It’s a pleasant morning. The forecast claims it’s the first day of spring - the humidity high and the sky clear, a bright and curious sun. The hedges are in bloom, vines and trumpet flowers covering the fences. A sweet smell is coming from the botanical gardens, just beyond the parking lot. The only part that hasn’t changed.

I wonder if you remember this place.

The official name these days is Harmony Village Center. It’s Central’s largest convention center, forty minutes north from the city by train. But you’d probably remember it as Village Convention Center. Old fashioned, and ‘Harmony Village’ sounds even more inviting, something out of the old country, doesn’t it? But Harmony is nothing so quaint. Harmony Electric is the largest power distributor on the continent, with lines going into the deserts, up the mountains and under the seas. And power comes in many shapes. Ten years ago, Harmony bought the ailing Village institution, demolished its old cinderblock stadium and built up this dome of glass and steel. They painted the walls white, planted the hedges, and bought all the homes within five kilometers, paving over them with asphalt, setting down parking spaces and lightposts. Then they set up bus circuit and connected it to the mainline trains, so people could get here without cars. They did a good job - you see the entrance, a solid wall of people waiting to get in.

It’s all very impressive.

I would say this is the biggest venue we’ve hit so far. Yes, it is a little daunting to see the size of the place, the sheer number of people flooding in from all over, milling under the sun with banners and balloons. But remember: like the winds, the tide, the flowers in spring, or unwitting residents getting their houses mowed down by another sweetly-named megacorp -- what happens, happens. It’s out of our hands. Nothing is an accident or a lost opportunity. Nothing exists which was not intended from the start.

Walking through the doors is like magic, a gateway to another world. The air is full of voices. Something smells delicious. I wish you could have come. You would have liked it. It’s too bad.

As for the one who did make it today…  it’s business as usual. 

To you, who could be here: there isn’t much to say. It’s your time to shine - let someone else do the worrying.