She knew he liked the rain. She also knew he had no say in when it would fall. Niola met Auden while collecting data on the disenfranchised in Cloudbank and quickly took a liking to him. Hulking but affable, his observations on the city and life in general betrayed an inquisitiveness and intelligence that would have landed him a decent career had he had the opportunity to develop them. Instead, he was part of a legion of Cloudbank inhabitants that, while doing much of the minute, often dirty, tasks to keep the city running smoothly, were not afforded the benefits of citizenship.
Niola was horrified to discover there were so many.
The Administration justified this by emphasizing the necessity of their jobs, as well as those jobs' repetitive and unstimulating natures. For these workers, citizenship was, in the words of Administrator Porter, "a dangerous distraction. Once they believe they can control the weather, next they'll assume they can control their destinies. You'll have them clamoring at the doors to Traverson, and the lucky few that make it through will get to the Selection Office and not know what to do with themselves. Selections must be made from a place of education, a place of understanding. Otherwise, the city would descend into chaos, its foundational workers off chasing useless dreams."
Niola typed the words from Porter's recorded statement into her computer verbatim, her rage growing with every keystroke. Her hands trembled across the words "useless dreams," and she pushed herself away from her desk in disgust. No dream was useless, especially in a city that claimed to be free and fair.
Opening her window, she breathed in the scent of petrichor, letting the rain-chilled air cool her face and her temper, and wondering if Auden had a chance to get out and enjoy the weather this afternoon.
She smiled at the thought. Though most of the disenfranchised individuals she interviewed were eager to talk, some stood out more than others in her memory. Auden, quick-witted and easy-going; Mildred, a tough-talking but gentle mother of four; Mackey, a hot-headed mechanic with a wide generous streak; and Corinna, all lean muscle and righteous vitriol. These people had become the faces of Niola's advocacy, representative of, but by no means all-inclusive of, the patchwork of lives and dreams and desires deemed unworthy of recognition, a demographic for whom education was considered "dangerous."
Niola returned to her desk and read Porter's words again, then opened a fresh document and began to form her counterargument. An outline complete, she shut down her computer and walked out of her apartment and into the rain, into the lively bustle of Goldwalk—the chatter, the ideas, the casual meetings of those with voices and those without.
A nearby OVC terminal recognized her and chirped out a notification, pulling her from her thoughts. She approached and the screen revealed a poll:
Vote on tomorrow's weather!
She looked over the options with a growing smile, then selected the one for Rain.