Publish, And Be Damned.

 The typewriter clacked its staccato rhythm in the dimly lit newsroom. The ding of the carriage return bell and ratchet of the carriage return acting as an audible punctuation to the incessant clatter of the keys. Not for Miles Caldwell the relative quiet of the new-fangled electric machines, he liked his trusty old Royal, which he’d used for more than twenty years. Miles was a seasoned journalist with a face carved by the harsh edges of truth. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as he hammered out the exposé that would rock the city. The corruption of Senator Robert Thornton had festered beneath the surface for too long, and Miles was ready to lay bare the festering wounds to the cauterising glare of the public.

The ink-stained pages, heavy with his story and filled with the damning evidence, rolled off the press like a manifesto of justice. Miles's article landed on the front page of the city's most respected newspaper, a sledgehammer blow to the facade of the political elite. He revelled in seeing his name right there on the front page, it was the thing he lived for and with this piece he could almost taste justice sharp on his tongue.

But justice, like the river's current, takes unexpected turns. That same evening when he returned home, Miles found his apartment door ajar. The ominous silence through the rooms was broken only by the sound of glass that crunched underfoot as he discovered his notes scattered, a hurricane of retribution unleashed. His home utterly trashed. A warning.

Senator Thornton, a venomous snake and political shark, struck back with ferocity. Miles's reputation crumbled under the weight of a series of utterly untrue and scandalous allegations - bribery, false reporting, defamation, a carefully constructed web of deceit spun to discredit the journalist who dared to challenge the throne.

Miles fought back with the only weapon he had left – the truth. He exposed the machinations of Thornton, revealing the lengths to which a corrupted politician would go to silence dissent. But the city, caught in the whirlwind of political manoeuvring, turned its back on the beleaguered journalist. No smoke, they said, without fire. People had voted for Thornton and people did not want to be shown to be fools, so instead of believing the obvious truth, they chose to believe the lie.

The newsroom, once a haven for unbridled journalism, became a battleground. The newspaper owner, feeling the wroth of Senator Thornton’s power chose to defend the newspaper as a business. Miles Caldwell, the casualty, stripped of his laurels, stood alone against the tempest he had unleashed. The truth, bitter and unpalatable, became a double-edged sword. And the sword he lived by was ‘publish and be damned’ and damned he seemed to be.

In the end, of course, Miles's exposé proved to be a testament to the relentless pursuit of truth. But by then he had lost his job, his reputation, his livelihood and was forced to make a living by bashing out romantic dime novels by the dozen under a pseudonym of Caldman De Milo. He may have lost the battle, but the war waged on. The ink on his pages might have smeared, but the indelible mark of his courage shouted from the page, a statement of defiance against the tyranny of power.

Senator Thornton was eventually disgraced enough to be forced to stand down. It didn’t cost him one penny. He still played golf, his wife still loathed him and burned with silent disdain, his children still didn’t have anything to do with him. He still held court in the local country club to the same circle of sycophants and rich fools. He was still disgracefully wealthy. He still wore an over-sized red silk tie to church on Sundays.

Miles still had his trusty Royal typewriter.