In large letters: THE SCARCITY IS A LIE. WEIS HOARDS WHILE YOU DIE.
And below it, a crude but effective recreation of the vault data's key finding—a simple chart showing how much time existed in reserves versus how much circulated in the economy.
"Someone's spreading the message," Elena said. "This showed up in five different locations across Dayton overnight. The Timekeepers cleaned it up by morning, but people took photos. It's circulating."
Ray felt a surge of hope. "The data is getting out."
"Slowly. But yes." Elena shut off the tablet. "Which means you need to act fast. Once people see the proof that scarcity is manufactured, they'll be ready for more. Ready for someone to actually do something about it."
"We're ready," Ray said. He looked at Martha, at Sylvia, at Greta who was finally able to sit up without help. "Tomorrow, we start. First distribution in Dayton, outside the factory district. Quick transfer, maximum impact, then we vanish."
"I'm coming with you," Greta said.
"No," Martha replied firmly. "You're still healing. You stay here with Dev and coordinate communications. Ray, Sylvia, and I will handle the first distribution."
"And if it goes wrong?" Greta challenged.
"Then Kira and Dev get you out of here, and you continue the work." Martha's voice left no room for argument. "We're not risking everyone on one operation. That's how movements die."
The next morning, Ray woke before dawn. His stomach was twisted with nervousness, but also with anticipation. Today, they would start. Today, they would actually do something.
He checked his clock: 105:13:18:52.
By tonight, that number would be lower. He'd be giving away time, distributing the stolen hours to people who needed them. The thought should have scared him—every transfer was permanent, irreversible—but instead it felt right.
Time was meant to be lived, not hoarded.
Ray, Sylvia, and Martha prepared in silence. Each of them carried five time capsules hidden in their clothes. Fifteen years total to distribute. A drop in the ocean compared to what Weis hoarded, but enough to save fifteen people who were running out.
Dev checked their disguises one last time. "Remember, you're not Ray Shivers and Sylvia Weis anymore. You're workers, tired and bitter, blending into the crowd. Keep your heads down, don't make eye contact with security, act like you belong."
"We've got this," Ray said, with more confidence than he felt.
Elena's van was waiting outside, engine running. They climbed in, and Elena drove them toward Dayton, toward Ray's former home, toward the first test of their plan.
As they crossed from the Fringe into Dayton territory, Ray saw the checkpoints Elena had mentioned. Timekeepers with scanners, checking everyone's time, looking for anything suspicious. But Elena's van had the right credentials, and her cargo was officially labeled as industrial supplies.
They passed through without incident.
"Drop point is three blocks ahead," Elena said. "I'll circle and pick you up in exactly thirty minutes. If you're not there, I leave without you. Understood?"
"Understood," Martha confirmed.
The van stopped in an alley. Ray, Sylvia, and Martha climbed out, and Elena drove away immediately. No lingering, no goodbyes. Professional.
Ray oriented himself. The factory district was two blocks east. This time of morning, the shift change would be happening—hundreds of workers coming and going, tired and desperate. Perfect cover.
"Stay close," Martha instructed. "We approach individually, make the transfers quick, then separate and meet at the extraction point. No heroics, no conversations. Just transfer and move."
They split up, each heading to different parts of the district.
Ray spotted his first target—a woman sitting on a curb, her head in her hands, her clock visible: 00:04:17. Four hours. Not enough to last the day.
Ray approached casually, sitting down beside her. She didn't look up.
"Rough morning?" Ray asked, keeping his voice neutral.
"Every morning is rough," she muttered. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing. Just thought you might need this." Ray pulled out a time capsule—one year, glowing green in his palm. "No strings. No catch. Just take it."
The woman's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "What—who are you?"
"Nobody. Someone who got lucky and wants to share it." Ray pressed the capsule into her hand. "This is yours. Use it to survive, to live, to fight back against a system that says you don't deserve more. Just... don't waste it."
He stood and walked away before she could respond, before she could ask questions or draw attention. Behind him, he heard her gasp as she activated the capsule, as one year of time flooded into her clock.
Ray moved to the next target. A man outside the factory gates, checking his clock nervously. Ray made the transfer—another year—and moved on.
Then another. And another. Five transfers in fifteen minutes, five years distributed to five people who would have died without it.
As Ray made his way toward the extraction point, he noticed something. People were talking. Whispering. Looking at their arms in disbelief. The word spreading: someone was giving away time. Real time. Free time.
Ray spotted Sylvia and Martha at the alley where Elena's van was supposed to pick them up. Both looked tense but intact.
"All transfers successful?" Martha asked quietly.
"Yes. You?"
"Same. Fifteen years distributed total." Martha checked her watch. "Two minutes until extraction."
They waited, pressed against the alley wall, listening to the growing commotion in the street. More people were noticing, talking, sharing the story of mysterious strangers giving away time.
The van appeared right on schedule. They piled in quickly, and Elena drove away at a normal pace—not too fast, not suspicious, just another vehicle in morning traffic.
"How did it go?" Elena asked once they were clear of the immediate area.
"Perfectly," Ray said. He checked his clock: 105:13:13:44. Five years lower, but it felt like a victory rather than a loss.
"Good. Because you're about to have company." Elena gestured to her rearview mirror.
Ray turned to look. Behind them, growing closer, was a Timekeeper vehicle.
"Are they following us?" Sylvia asked, her voice tight.
"Might be coincidence. Might not." Elena took a turn, then another. The Timekeeper vehicle followed. "Hold on. This could get interesting."
Ray's hand instinctively went to his clock. After everything—the escape, the planning, the successful distribution—were they about to get caught on the extraction?
The Timekeeper vehicle's lights flashed on.
They were being pulled over.
And there was nowhere left to run.