The opening of Goldwalk Channel was supposed to be a celebration. Inside the gallery, artists, most of whom had never had a say in the city's development and politics, stood, beaming, beside their creations and awaited the first visitors.
Outside, however, a different scene unfolded. A vociferous group had gathered at the entrance to the Channel, pushing their way past visitors waiting to get in, and repeatedly reading a list of seventeen grievances through a megaphone.
Niola tried to ignore them at first, then tried to calmly address their grievances, but the group was less interested in understanding than they were in strong-arming the hours-old gallery out of existence.
"Reason number twelve," a woman shouted through the megaphone, only a few feet from Niola's face, "defeating the Highrise Metro proposal. The space where this gallery exists is built for transportation, not for idle shoegazing."
"It was the voters' decision," Niola replied, clenching her fists at her side.
"The margin of votes was less than the margin of error! We demand the gallery shut down until the votes can be recounted and verified."
"They were verified! Twice!"
But the megaphone had been passed, and the group moved on to reason thirteen. Then fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, ignoring Niola at every turn.
"Reason seventeen," a man said at last, "incitement of civil unrest."
"Unrest?" Niola cried.
"By giving space to meritless perspectives undeserving of notice."
Niola opened and closed her mouth as the words replayed through her mind. A white-hot bolt of anger ran down her spine, and before she could stop herself, she stepped up to the man and jabbed a finger into his chest.
"Meritless?" she said. "Who gets to decide that? All perspectives are deserving of notice, whether you agree with them or not! How is that inciting unrest?"
"If they were worth noticing, they wouldn't be cleaning fish guts off the docks."
"Or cleaning overflowing bathrooms," someone else added.
"Or working on assembly lines."
"They're too dumb to vote! They don't deserve a voice!"
Niola viciously shook her head. "You are the ones that are too dumb to see their worth! You all just fall in line, content with the options you're given. You're a disgrace to what this city is supposed to stand for, and you're a blight on Goldwalk just standing here!"
There was a moment of silence, then the crowd erupted in rage, flinging accusations and insults, closing in on Niola like a pack of dogs.
"Stop!" A man's voice cut through the clamor. Niola looked up and saw Administrator Kendrell standing at the edge of the group, dressed in white and flanked by three others. "She has a point. Cloudbank is a democracy. Every voice should matter."
The crowd's roar dulled to a murmur, and Kendrell smiled at Niola. "I commend you for remaining patient as long as you did. Come, let's leave this crowd behind. My associates and I would like to speak with you. I think you'll find we have much in common."