The clamor of hundreds of shouting voices filled the hearing room.
Had they heard correctly? The chairwoman was pounding the table with her gavel, calling for order. The mood in the chamber had shifted from optimistic calm to general alarm. George, one of the members-at-large, caught the chairwoman’s eye. They shared a look of concern that said “That wasn’t on the agenda.”
Eventually the combination of gavel strikes and calls for order reduced the boil of the crowd to a simmer. The chairwoman addressed the crowd, the prodrome of hoarseness creeping into her voice.
“Will whoever just spoke please approach the dais?”
A tall woman with defined arms worked her way through the crowd. She was the type of woman to post a fox gif, or eat a burger, or operate a 40mm’s horizontal gear on a battleship. The crowd parted before her, like floes cleaving beneath the advance of an icebreaker.
“The gentlewoman is recognized,” said the chairwoman. Her mind wandered as she regarded the woman in front of her, and then snapped to attention as she saw the anti-Sun patch on the woman’s jacket.
Oh god, I hope it’s not–
“I propose a motion to blow up the sun.”
The words broke the silence like a large bolt of thick fabric being torn lengthwise, precise, destructive and irreversible. Two heartbeats passed before a voice farther back in the crowd cried out, “I second that motion!”
That set the crowd back to a boil. The chairwoman leaned back in her seat as the chaos filled the air in the room, her voice already strained from shouting over the last commotion.
It’s going to be a long night, she thought, letting out a rueful laugh as she realized: Especially if the anti-Suns have their way.