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.
"Have you seen Chris?" I shout over thousands of human voices.
"Nope," replies Henri as he rolls his eyes. "No idea why our fearless leader wouldn't be here for this."
"Wait here." I nearly lose my balance as I climb down from the table. "I'm going to go look for him."
"If you find him, tell him for me that his lack of commitment is complete bullshit," Henri places a hand on his hip.
Elizabeth nods. "I don't care how important he thinks he is. He's supposed to be our leader."
I duck through clumps of protesters as they hurl slogans at the building's brown facade. Violet-shirted nurses sit in circles and sing a chorus of "Union Maid".
I pick my way around them. My foot lands on patches of grass trampled into mud.
"Andrea, over here." Henri calls through the crowd.
I've walked in a full circle on the south lawn. But there's no sign of Chris. I walk towards Henri but the thick pack of people pushes me. I feel as if I've lost motor control. I feel as if the crowd has control of my limbs.
Eventually, I am deposited beside Henri. Miriam and Elizabeth are under his arm. The four of us stand, packed together so tightly I can see the individual hairs on Henri's moles.
"Is it just me or is the crowd getting restless?" I ask.
"Yeah. And so are the commuters," Elizabeth gestures towards the line of cars, three-deep, that idle at the intersection.
Protesters spill onto the street and weave their way among the stopped cars. People shout slogans and pound on car doors and hoods.
"Can we go over there?" Miriam indicates the curb, where the crowd is thinner. "I really need some air."
The four of us slowly push through the mass of people to the edge of the lawn.
"Andrea," Miriam grabs my elbow. "Look!" I follow her gaze, turning to look towards the brown building.
"Cops?"
They're setting up metal barricades around the park and they're coming towards us.
"I thought this was supposed to be a peaceful protest," Elizabeth tugs at one of her dyed pink dreadlocks. "That's what Chris said, right?"
More people join the mob of protesters each minute. Every time the crowd swells and pushes up against the growing barricade, we hear a cacophony of honking from the gridlocked traffic beyond us.
"Oh, my god. Henri," exclaims Elizabeth.
She points down the broad stretch of College Street. We stand on our toes, looking over the tops of heads to find out what she's pointing at.
"What in god's name are they doing here?"
Henri looks towards broad-shouldered uniformed men and women on horseback trotting down the avenue towards us. In front of the horses are lines of police officers on foot. They thump their plastic shields rhythmically with night sticks as they advance towards us. It's the riot squad.
"What's going to happen, Andrea?"
Terror glints in Miriam's eyes. She has a hand on each side of her hijab and holds her head. The crowd morphs into a panicked animal with the arrival of the police.
The four of us are bumped and knocked from all sides. Henri is sent sprawling over a barricade and across the hood of a car stuck at the packed intersection. The driver, a middle-aged man in a stiff suit, lays on the horn.
"Hey," the driver of the car shouts through a barely cracked window. "Get off my car!"
Henri smacks the hood of his car as he hoists himself off it.
"Goddamn fucking lay about," the man says through his window.
"What did you call me?" Henri shouts back.
"You heard me. Hey -- why don't you just get a job like the rest of us instead of complaining?"
"Get a job? And what job am I supposed to get? Yours? Cause everything else is taken by the mother fucking machines."
Henri's face turns fire red as he screams the last word. The driver's eyes flash to Henri's face. His eyelids peel wide with fear.
"I'm just trying to get to work," the man screams from his car.
He's gridlocked on the corner of College and University but he's still trying to drive through the crowd of protesters. People in multi-colored t-shirts block the massive intersection. Beside the man's car, Henri waves a placard and begins to cross to the driver's side. The man rolls up the crack of open window.
"Yeah, well," Henri screams to be heard above the din, "I'm just trying to get my work back!"
A group of protesters from the local office administrators union scream their assent.
A wiry young man with bleached hair and the yellow shirt of the office administrator's union places a megaphone to his mouth.
"If you don't support automation at the expense of employment," he shouts through it. "Make some noise!" The crowd responds with hooting, whistling and applause. Then he begins a chant.
"We say hell no! Union busting has to go!"
"We say hell no," the crows joins in. "Automation has to go. We say hell no, robot workers have to go!"
I call to Henri but he can't hear me. Miriam, Elizabeth and I stand in muddy patches on the beaten lawn that stretches from the seat of the legislature.
"Henri," I yell, my voice hoarse from the strain. "It's not worth it!"
He turns and walks toward us. The man is flipping him off behind his back. I look at the girls and shake my head at them. Don't tell him.
The chants blasted through megaphones by protesters grow louder and angrier as the riot squad closes in. Thousands of feet stomp in time.
"There he is!"
Henri stretches a long finger towards the side of the building. I follow it with my gaze. It's Chris. He's near the side of the building with Joe, Oz and Shari. They stand next to some dumpsters. They run up a set of stairs that are covered with a stone awning.
"I'll be right back." I say.
"Wait, where are you going?" Miriam calls but I can't go back. I'm already swallowed up by the crowd.
(Continued in Chapter 37...)
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Hey all, thanks for reading this chapter! Don't let me stop you from continuing on to the next super exciting chapter! :)