Pete finally squeezed through a gap in the crowd. His shoulders had been bumped several times, but he made it to the notice post at last.
A recruitment notice for the Spring Aid Team was posted there, with each position clearly listed: Construction Team, craftsmen, physicians, apprentices, guards. Pay, terms of service, and family allowances were all plainly laid out.
The command at the very bottom was simple and direct: go bring light to those still in darkness.
Pete stared at that sentence, his heart tightening slightly as a feeling rose within him: All right. It's my turn to do something.
Registration desks had been set up in the center of the square, where officials from the Civil Affairs Office were busy keeping order.
Wooden signs marked the different queues, and Pete joined the logistics line.
Some people around him shouted and tried to cut in, while others complained about the crush. Order was only restored when a clerk stepped forward to settle the crowd.
When Pete's turn came, he steadied his breathing and stepped up to the desk.
A clerk in his thirties looked up at him and said evenly, "Name, department, work history."
"Pete Holland, Supplies Office, third-class warehouse officer," he answered simply.
The clerk leafed through the records, then looked at him. "Winter dispatch work in District Three... you have experience. You understand this assignment isn't just about moving supplies?"
Pete nodded. "I've heard a little, but not the details."
"We're not sending out labor. We're sending out ways of doing things," the clerk explained bluntly. "Those who go need to keep accounts, allocate grain, organize distribution channels, maintain order, and teach others to do the same. In short, grassroots officials who can run a small post on their own."
Pete took a few seconds to digest