She traced the lines on her ceiling as mid-morning heat seeped through her window blinds. In only a few hours, she would become an Architect. Preparatory school had taught her well, and it allowed her a job in Waymorch Industries. Music had always alluded her, but her mathematics and physics score was simply too high for her government to allow her to pursue such a dream. Architecture with a City Design focus or Professor of Logic and Reason were her only two options, and many counted her lucky for even having options. In her little room, music was softly humming.

    "....The curtains have already torn,

We see clearly that they need more,

For when battle calls, they blow that horn

And there we send the, those untouchable poor...."

    

    Forty-five minutes early to her first assignment, and she was already being scorned at by the receptionist for not being a full hour early. Around her were white walls that stretched loftily upwards, eventually disappearing into a white light.

    “Marcus is waiting.” The receptionist taped her stiletto sharply on the pearly ceramic floor, snapping Robyns focus back to the scorning woman.

    “Right.” Robyn took one more glance up at the endless walls. Dizziness punched her hard in the stomach.

 

    “Now that everyone is here, I will assign empty parameters that need construction for the growing population,” Marcus spoke so softly, it warranted everyone’s silence, “Scotte, Parameter 72. Devlin, Parameter 65. Rickar, Parameter 23. Robyn, Parameter 87. Ployy, Parameter 54.”

    “Parameter 87?” Robyn asked aloud, “I thought… I thought that was full of Untouchables.”

    Everyone in the room clenched and most held their breaths. Who even addressed Marcus, and especially in such blatant disobedience? Marcus had been born in the capital, lived there, and rarely left. That meant that his word was equal to the word of the government. No one could argue with a Capital Resider.

    “Excuse me?” Marcus, who had been facing a large hologram of the parameters, turned on his heels.

    “Parameter 87,” Robyn spoke without hesitance or concern, “You must be mistaken.”

    “Robyn, am I correct? We have not formally been introduced. I admire your pluck, but unfortunately this is no place for such response,” Marcus said, equally as coolheaded and unworried.

    

    Robyn laid in her bed. What was she to do? People lived in Parameter 87 in tent cities they called the ‘Park’. Her eyes scanned the ceiling, where a rounded light resided. That is when the idea struck her.

    

    Within the next several months, Parameter 87 was constructed into a major metropolis where the overflowing population could spread into. Being its distance from any other main town, a small capital building was constructed. With delicacy and much care, it was built over the Park, granting the poor people voices that could be heard by the government. The government was unable to strip them of their new found power; for if they did, that would also mean that they must stripe people such as Marcus from their rank.