RoboNomics

Chapter 36 - 2016

Henri and I are the first ones to arrive at Queen's Park that morning. We blink sleepily as we look up at the mottled brown building. 

I've always liked the legislature's bubbly stone work and the regal way it stands out next to the glass box University buildings and the mass of concrete block research institutes.

It's been about a month since I spoke with Minister Garrett. He was the last Member of the Provincial Parliament that could have stopped the protest. 

But he didn't stop it; he didn't change the way he would vote. And so Henri and I fumble to set up a table at the entrance to the park before union members from across the province show up. The April morning is so new that there's still dew on the grass.

"Austin didn't want me to come today, you know," I tell him. 

I don't mention that my husband's request to stay home from the protest turned into a monumental argument between the two of us.

"Yeah, neither did Russ." Henri replies. "It was weird. You'd think I was shipping off to war or something."

A few minutes later, Miriam and Elizabeth arrive. Half of Elizabeth's dreadlocks are dyed rainbow colors, as if she's going to a musical festival. 

Bill, Amit, Alexa show up soon after. They are followed by the other teachers, nurses and office administrators who helped us organize the protest. We give out t-shirts in colors that correspond to different unions and check people's names off of our long list of members. 

Soon the people arriving outnumber our supply of t-shirts. By nine o'clock in the morning, the lawn is crowded with tens of thousands of people. 

But there's no sign of Chris. Joe, Oz and Shari haven't shown up either.

"I've never seen such a crowd," Henri remarks. "How many you think? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?"

"You'd think this was Woodstock or something," Elizabeth agrees as she hands him a placard.

"Human Resources belongs to humans," he reads off the card. "Really?" He raises one eyebrow.

"Hey, don't blame me," says Elizabeth, "I put Miriam in charge of coming up with slogans."

"Hey," Miriam whines. "I thought it was clever."

"Guys, look," I pull myself onto the empty table and stand carefully as it wobbles. 

I grab Elizabeth's arm and help her to stand on the table with me. It has a plastic top with fold-out legs barely thicker than wire. That doesn't seem to matter to Henri and Miriam, who follow us onto it.

"It's beautiful," says Miriam. 

Laid out across the south lawn of Queen's Park is a moving, shifting patchwork of colors. The rainbow mass of bodies presses up against the legislature.

"You can't even see the grass anymore," says Henri. 

Queen Victoria sits on her throne in front of the east wing, her bronze eyes placidly watching the swell of humanity. Orange-shirted public service workers climb the statue and sit on her lap. 

The growing crowd tramples the circular patches of flowers decorating the park. The recessed windows of the building are dark eyes quietly observing the movements of the crowd.

"We did this, you guys," I announce.

"Look at that," says Henri as he points. 

The custodial workers' union, wearing t-shirts of forest green, start to chant. The rest of the crowd joins in. But I'm too distracted to appreciate ten thousand voices chanting in unison.