ALLIANCE CAPITAL — GRAND CIVIC HALL — DAWN
No one had slept.
That was how all truly excellent democratic decisions began.
The Grand Civic Hall had been rearranged overnight.
Not for ceremony.
Not for worship.
Not for spectacle.
For process.
Long tables in concentric arcs.
Delegates from every alliance kingdom.
Labor representatives.
Rural councils.
Archive clerks.
Legal scholars.
Teachers.
Three bakers, for reasons no one had fully explained but which Lily insisted were "socially necessary."
The twelve anchors.
And me.
At the center stood not a throne, not a stage, but an empty podium.
I hated how symbolic that looked.
"Remind me," I muttered to Kieran, "why we're doing this in public."
"Because if reality starts listening, we want witnesses."
"That's a terrible reason."
"It's actually one of our better ones."
Fair.
Director Chen struck the assembly bell with all the joy of someone who had finally managed to turn metaphysics into procedure.
