The mornings in Pittsburgh always carried a biting chill, especially this ti of year. The fog, mixed with the damp air from the river valley, could pierce through the thickest of coats and chill you straight to the bone.
Grant Street, in front of the City Hall building, was quiet at this hour, typically with only a few street sweepers moving slowly about.
But today, that tranquility was shattered by the roar of engines.
Three battered old trucks, emblazoned with the "Pittsburgh Revival Plan" logo, drove in a single file line into the plaza in front of City Hall.
The security guard, dozing off in his booth, was startled awake. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the strange convoy.
The trucks didn’t stop in the loading zone. Instead, they drove right onto the large lawn in front of City Hall’s main entrance—the very patch of green that represented the city’s public face.
The brakes screeched harshly.
The doors flew open, and Leo Wallace was the first to jump out.
Following close behind were Frank, Sarah, Ethan, and a dozen other able-bodied Union volunteers who also leaped from the trucks.
"Hurry! Let’s move!" Frank shouted, directing the group. "Get everything unloaded! Careful, don’t drop that copier!"
The security guard finally snapped to his senses. He grabbed his radio, calling for backup as he scrambled out of the booth.
"Hey! What do you think you’re doing? This is City Hall! No parking! No unloading!"
Leo turned to face the guard.
He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was the "Office Rectification Notice" the city council had issued just to make things difficult for him.
"Good morning," Leo said, his voice calm. "We received a notice from the City Administration Office stating that our prefab office in the South District is a fire hazard and must be vacated imdiately. As law-abiding citizens, we are, of course, cooperating with the governnt’s work."
"But... you can’t move here!" the guard exclaid, pointing at the lawn. "This is a public area!"
"You said it yourself—it’s a public area," Leo said with a shrug. "I am a taxpayer in Pittsburgh, and I am an executive committee mber of the City Revitalization Committee. I have the right to work on land that belongs to the citizens."
"Besides, this location is closest to Mr. Mayor, which makes it convenient for us to report to him at any ti about all those never-ending forms."
The guard froze, his mind unable to process the sudden turn of events.
In the ti it took him to recover, the volunteers had already swiftly unloaded everything.
Several paint-chipped desks were arranged in the center of the lawn, forming a makeshift office area.
A tal filing cabinet was set up next to them, stuffed with all the damn application forms and rectification notices.
A few folding chairs were unfolded.
Even the printer that constantly jamd and the coffee machine that always made weird noises were brought out and hooked up to a large, portable generator.
In less than twenty minutes, an open-air "campaign headquarters" had been erected right at the foot of the City Hall building.
"Alright, everyone." Leo clapped his hands, the white puff of his breath dissipating in the cold wind. "Let’s get to work."
Sarah quickly set up three caras.
The angles of these three caras had been ticulously planned.
One was aid directly at the office area, capturing footage of Leo and his team handling docunts in the biting wind.
Another was focused on the constantly running generator and the mountain of files.
The last and most important one was aid slightly upward, pointing at the third floor of the City Hall building from a low angle.
There was a massive floor-to-ceiling window there.
That was the Mayor’s Office.
"Live feed is up," Sarah said, staring at the monitor. "YouTube, TikTok, Facebook... streaming to all platforms now."
The title of the live stream was simple and blunt: *24-Hour City Hall Reality Show*.
At 8:00 a.m., City Hall employees began to arrive for work.
They stared in astonishnt at the scene on the lawn. So whispered among themselves, while others took out their phones to take pictures.
Passing citizens also stopped in their tracks, and a crowd of onlookers began to gather.
Leo sat at his open-air desk, a pen in hand, filling out tedious information on a form for "Worker Lunch Sanitation Standards."
The wind was strong, making the papers rustle loudly. He had to use a brick to hold his docunts down.
His hands were red with cold. Every few words, he had to stop to rub his hands together or breathe warm air onto them.
And in the background behind him stood the warm City Hall building.
This stark visual contrast was transmitted in real ti through Sarah’s caras to thousands upon thousands of phone screens.
No comntary was needed; the image itself was the most powerful indictnt.
At nine o’clock, a few workers in worn-out jackets walked onto the lawn.
They were workers from the "Pittsburgh Revival One" construction site.
The project had been halted, their accounts frozen. Today was payday, but they hadn’t received their wages.
They had originally gone to the prefab office in the South District to demand an explanation from Leo, only to find the place deserted. A notice on the door had directed them here.
The old worker leading them, a man nad Old Qiao, clutched a grimy hat in his hands, looking sowhat ill at ease.
"Mr. Wallace." Old Qiao walked up to the desk. "We heard you’d moved here. We don’t want to cause any trouble, but... when are we getting this week’s pay? My wife can’t stop her dication, and the landlord is demanding rent."
The cara imdiately zood in, capturing a close-up of Old Qiao’s face, etched with wrinkles and coated in dust.
Leo put down his pen.
He stood up, walked around the desk, and stood before Old Qiao.
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