Some were knocked to the ground, then scrambled back up and kept charging. Some were struck in the knees by iron pipes, staggered to their knees, and were trampled by the people behind them.
More and more people poured through the breach, like a collapsed dam with water continuously flooding through the gap, completely washing away the station's original order.
Raymond rose from the platform.
He moved slowly, like an old rusted machine starting up again. Bracing himself against the edge of the table, he closed the ledger and looked down at the seething crowd below. There was no fear in his clouded eyes, only an almost numb calm.
He stood there for a while before slowly speaking. "Go ahead and riot. When you're done, you'll still have to wait."
His voice was not loud, but the wind carried it to the ears of several nearby people.
Some heard it. Some did not.
Those still charging forward did not stop, because if they stopped, they would be shoved back into that endless order again. They had waited long enough. They had waited out an entire lifetime.
And at the far end of the continent, in an abandoned coastal city, another riot was brewing at the same time.
This city had once been the largest port of the old civilization, with deep-water berths, enormous cranes, crisscrossing railways, and underground pipeline networks.
But after the catastrophe, seawater had flooded back in and submerged the low-lying districts. All that remained were the ruins of high-rise buildings and dockyards piled with rusted shipping containers.
Those containers had been pried open countless times. They were empty inside, leaving only unidentifiable scraps and dried oil stains.
Gano's lottery platform was set up on a cleared concrete expanse in the harbor district. Around it stood abandoned crane