The council room fell silent as the first bell rang, a small, almost imperceptible gesture from Grace having invited the first speaker forward.
Ethan Caldwell, a slim man with a tense posture and sharp eyes, sat at the far end of the opposition's side.
His fingers brushed the edge of the bell, hesitating for a heartbeat.
When he pressed it, the chair beneath him detached with a soft hum.
Instinctively, he gripped the armrests, eyes widening as the chair rose into the air.
What… what is happening? Where is this taking me? Am I—am I about to die?
The chair hovered, gliding toward the central platform as though guided by an invisible rail.
Ethan's gaze flicked to the Piao sisters.
They sat rigidly on the proposition side, expressionless, and for a moment, he misread their calm as something dangerous.
Heat crept into his cheeks.
I can't die here. Not like this. Not now.
He tried to steady his breathing, hands still clutching the chair.
Each second stretched unbearably.
Finally, the chair stopped just above the platform.
Ethan coughed, trying to hide the flush creeping across his face.
He stepped off carefully, boots making a soft, precise thud on the metallic platform.
Silence filled the room.
All eyes were on him.
He straightened, lifting his head, forcing his fear to recede behind a veneer of calm.
"Hello… everyone," he said, his voice slightly hesitant at first, then firmer as he found his footing.
He paused, letting the brief acknowledgment settle.
"My name is Ethan Caldwell," he continued, projecting confidence.
"I serve in the Department of Societal Governance, specializing in emergency policy and regulatory oversight. I have studied the mechanisms and consequences of population control systems for over a decade, and I am here today to speak on the implications of the Male Protection Act from a policy perspective."
He took a measured breath, letting the room absorb his introduction, and relaxed his hands at his sides.
"I will begin."
Ethan's voice became steady, calm, and unwavering.
"The Male Protection Act was conceived in a moment of crisis. Humanity teetered on the brink. Birth rates had plummeted, resources were stretched to breaking, and survival demanded extraordinary measures."
He paced a few steps on the platform, gestures deliberate.
"But that was then. The emergency is over. Populations are stabilizing. The birth rate has recovered. Systems that were temporary by design have persisted far longer than intended. Laws built to save us from extinction cannot, and should not, govern in times of prosperity."
His gaze swept across the room, landing briefly on each council member.
"The Male Protection Act, in its current form, was meant for survival, not society as it is today. Its powers—extraordinary and centralized—were justified under the duress of extinction. Now, they are an anomaly, a holdover that distorts ordinary governance and ordinary life."
He paused, letting the words linger.
Then, softer, almost reflectively, he said:
"A law built for extinction cannot be the law that governs prosperity."
He drew a slow breath, hands tightening briefly at his sides.
"We are not here to ignore history. We are here to acknowledge it—and to recognize that survival systems, when extended into normalcy, become instruments of control rather than protection."
"This Act touches every aspect of life: birth, labor, punishment, medical care, and social hierarchy. What once preserved humanity now shapes it in ways we cannot fully justify or oversee. Emergencies require sacrifice; peacetime requires accountability."
Ethan stepped back, and the hover platform seemed to respond to his motion.
He slid back into his chair, which hummed and glided precisely along the invisible path back to his original seat.
The hum ceased. His hands folded neatly in his lap.
A hush remained in the room for a heartbeat before the next bell could be pressed.
The first opposition speaker had finished.
The meeting had officially begun.
The stage was set for the responses that would follow.