The true reach of Harry’s empire was unknown even to the angels of the Mundane Observation Corps, as it was as much a legal fiction as an actual corporation, comprised mostly of dizzyingly complex licensing agreements, syndication arrangements, shell companies and small stakes in a variety of other similarly byzantine corporations. Our accountants found one particular branch of Harry’s empire that served only to obfuscate the activities of the other branches. This branch was so good at what it did, however, that it eventually succeeded in becoming completely ignorant of what the other branches were actually doing, and at last inspection existed as a completely independent entity, busily hiding the details of what it was doing from itself.

There wasn’t necessarily any malice in any of these activities; Harry, for his part, did his best to run a reasonably respectable business. Shell companies, plausible deniability and intentional obfuscation were merely a routine part of business in the twenty-first century. Such defense mechanisms helped forestall audits, hostile takeovers and intelligent questions from shareholders, all at a cost of only a few hundred million dollars in lost productivity per year. Like the monarch butterfly, which has evolved a body chemistry that causes it to taste like burnt styrofoam to predators, Harry’s empire was a thing to behold – but you wouldn’t want to take a bite out of it.

The jewel in Harry’s crown was the Banner, which was within spitting distance of being the most popular news magazine in the world. News magazines were admittedly a bit old school by the twenty-first century, but an old-fashioned weekly publication made from actual dead trees lent his enterprise some much-needed respectability. An organization that could afford to lose as much money as the Banner did week after week was a force to be reckoned with.

The Banner also helped keep Harry focused on his ultimate mission – to usher in the Apocalypse. Unlike the other elements of his empire, which he had mostly acquired and then either built upon their untapped potential or looted them for all they were worth, the Banner was Harry’s baby. He had built the Banner from nothing – deliberately passing over several magazines on the verge of bankruptcy that he could have picked up for pennies on the dollar – because he wanted its focus to be pure: when the Apocalypse occurred, the Banner would announce it first.

That wasn’t his stated intent, of course. One had to maintain appearances. The mission statement of the Banner was to be the best news magazine in the world. So he had assembled a vast network of reporters – in L.A., New York, Washington, D.C., London, Tokyo – all with the ostensible purpose of providing the most timely, accurate and insightful news coverage possible. But the Big One, the one story he was really waiting for, was still out there. And he was going to get it.