Lynda passed multiple businesses, each proclaiming a need for help that all suddenly had no position for the erudite giant, before she wound her way to a small legal firm looking for a secretary.

Her pale knuckle rapped against the wooden door. Lynda smiled as the door swung inwards; the grin was a little forced but it held within it a glimmer of hope. The suited man looked at Lynda’s papers, held in front of her as if it was some sort of talisman, then up to her face.

“Good day, I was wondering…”

The door slammed shut. Lynda’s demeanour broke down, showing the red fire within as she couldn’t take anymore. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and she closed her hands into fists. “There’s nothing wrong with me!” Lynda bellowed at the door.

Everyone in the street stared at the Outcaste woman, showing fright as the giant's protestation shattered the peace. Lynda eyes darted around, catching each watcher before she scrambled away to the chorus of uncomfortable muttering about the previous unseemly scene, though none followed her as she bolted for the relative safety of a nearby memorial park. 

Lynda slowed and took several deep breaths, less due to the physical exertion and more to try and steady her emotions, as she slumped down on the edge of a nearby statue. With no one but a sleeping, black suited, man under a nearby tree to see her emotional fall, she slapped her references upon the stonework next to her and placed her head into her hands. She did what she could to strangle the scream of frustration but all she managed was to change it with a deep sigh and the utterance of an escaped sob as the world pressed upon her.

“Struggling?” A smooth, but slightly lisped, voice broke the quiet of the park.

Lynda recoiled as she glanced at the smartly dressed, dark suited, man nested in her shadow, as if to try and escape her own mortification. He happened to be a tall man whose body could be described to be one of a swimmer; athletic without bulk. He actually looked to be quite handsome with piecing green eyes and tanned skin. He was holding out a placating hand, as if trying to sooth a startled animal.

Scrambling to her feet Lynda adjusted her red jacket, making sure it was straight as a dark grey blush pooled on her cheek. He smiled at her, his mouth opening and showing a set of serrated teeth that looked a bit too big for comfort.

“Unfortunately, so.” Lynda said, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. Despite her size the gentleman seemed so at ease that he radiated an unmatched confidence. Her eyes glanced above his head and to the stores that ran along the street. “I was hoping to find work, but it seems they don’t want to know me, or anyone really.”

“That’s their loss, I’m sure.” He patted the edge of the statue once more and took a seat himself, making sure to sit a little further up the statue’s steps so as he could talk to her face to face. With a certain amount of reluctance, Lynda slumped next to the man with the serrated grin. He flicked through the references quite casually as if they were his own. “A woman with your education should be a boon.”

“I...couldn’t say, honestly.” Lynda replied, reticence getting the better of her.

“What’s your name?” The dark suited man asked, despite the pages listing her name several times.

“Lynda.”

“I'm Theodore Gort, though please just call me Theo.” Gort rasped through his oversized teeth as he grinned. “How long have you been back in the city?”

“How did...” Lynda began, looking to the man as confusion blossomed. He simply let out a laugh that was tainted by self satisfaction.

“Because you know your way around the city well enough that you don’t need a guide.” He said, pointing to where she had walked from, though the point rolled as he extended a thumb and indicated the sheaf of papers in his other hand. “Yet you seem patently ignorant of the fact there is no employment for anyone that isn’t already well to do, and not wishing to actually work.”

Lynda’s eyes narrowed as a prelude to her turning away to hide her annoyance.

“Have you been following me?” She asked, her words a little frosted at the edges. Gort, to his credit, didn’t look concerned and instead let out another smug chortle.

“No, but our people take note of you. You’re not exactly easy to hide.” He said, handing the pages back to her. “A giant walked into the city. Rumours of you have spread far and wide by our people, I assure you.”

“Why?” Lynda asked, taking the pile of references from Gort and pulling them closer to her chest. While the jocularity of Gort remained, he did huff out a sigh of resignation as his smile drained by degrees. 

“Your clothes are roughly stitched, but they’re clean. You had a trunk, made of oak and not something like pine, and you have a home even if it’s a small one. That, my dear, is note-worthy in-and-of-itself in view of what you are.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Lynda said, taking time to study the man once more. The grin was reminiscent of Clarky’s exuberance, though not as crazed or filthy; there was something behind it but she couldn’t place her finger on.

“I know.” Gort said as he seemingly stared off into the distance. “You meant what makes you so special. The answer is nothing.” He turned. “And everything.”

Lynda nearly prevented herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m serious; yes you are a giant, and yes you might or might not have abilities that befit your stature, but do you use them outside of need? No. Do you hold yourself above your peers? No. You just wish to live with equality.”

“Well, true...” Lynda considered and though she relaxed something about what had been said sat on the edge of her mind. “But you almost say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh no, I can see the appeal of a simple life. No stress or responsibility. Just day to day, be free, earn a living and raise a family.” His finger pointed down the street at the stores that had barred themselves to Lynda’s approach, which allowed him to miss her expression at the idea of family. “In a fair society they wouldn’t turn their back on capable and willing employees but would find themselves inundated with skilled workers able to do wondrous things.”

“Then there wouldn’t be enough jobs to go around, I guess.” Lynda said, letting a sigh slip her lips.

“You’d think that, but in a truly prosperous society wouldn’t businesses increase to meet the demand?”

“Well, certainly theoretically...”

“More money, more investment, more jobs which leads to more people spending money which means more money.” Gort said, giving Lynda a shrug. “A simple economics lesson in a nutshell, right? So where are the chances and opportunities that such thinking promised?”

Lynda sat silent for a moment, her gaze turning briefly to the stores. Gort couldn’t help the resigned chuckle as he waved a hand. “Because it isn’t a chance for everyone instead it’s a chance for those in place who do not need it; the lords, ladies and their powerful friends who can and will make money off of our misery.”

“That...sounds like a bit of an over simplification.” Lynda started, bringing her attention back to Gort's dark humour.

“Perhaps, but it’s the best way to get you to see the problems.” He offered a shrug once more. “Start with a simple view and work your way out; besides most people don’t understand the more nuanced understandings of the world that you or I might.”

“They just need to be taught, that’s all.” Lynda replied, looking down at the pages from her academic career, such as it was. Gort snapped his fingers and pointed at the giant almost in triumph.

“Exactly! They need to be taught! I think I know what you want and, if you’ll let me, I think I might be able to help give it to you but first we’d need your help.” Gort said.

“What kind of help?” Lynda asked, curiosity grabbing at her with a firm hand.

“Later today there is a demonstration.” Gort waved a hand towards the centre of town. “We’ll be taking over a part of Kings Way so we can make ourselves heard; I’d like you to consider joining us as someone like you there may give the others a little more spine.”

“In protest of what?” Lynda asked while her brow rose once more. “I’m not saying no, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“A wise choice.” Gort said, though his words faltered only a little at the question. “On an official level the city has completed its rebuilding efforts; inside the walls of the city, such as they are, houses are reconstructed and business renewed. Officially speaking, the wounds of history are healed but much of the outlying land is still being rebuilt.”

Lynda nodded, contemplating the open earthworks and the shifting stone on her way into the city. Gort gave a nod to her thoughtful expression and continued. “But while the rebuilding efforts have moved outside the walls, there is still an area inside the walls that is full of rubble and debris. These are the docks and the warehouse district; our slums in other words.”

“That doesn’t make any sense; the docks are vital for trade; I know things can be a little tense with the Golden Empire, or the Arid Principalities but...”

“Oh, they’ve repaired it enough for essential services; the cranes, the jetties and even some of the more front facing buildings, but the rest of that quadrant is still in ruin and turmoil. There’s nothing, for anyone who actually lives there.”

“...I’ve got a bad feeling I know where this conversation is going.” Lynda remarked, looking down at her bleached hand as a frown formed on her dark lips.

“You’re quite smart for one of...us.” Gort said, though the phrase caused her forehead to wrinkle as she pondered the words. Gort continued on. “That’s where we live; the dispossessed and the ruined, those of us who are little more than the offal thrown away.”

“Sounds awful.” Lynda replied, casting a glance at her feet as her heart ached with guilt of her own good fortune. “I always thought there weren’t that many of us here. I mean you always hear stories but...”

“Yes, there are more of us in the city that anyone would think, but us also includes the unchanged who have no ill-will towards their warped brothers and sisters; the poor and the destitute and those who would turn their back on tradition to raise us all up. It’s their home, and ours, which have been left ruined by the war; not the home of the lords and ladies or the wealthy merchants who feed their pockets from our tables. We just need to go out and remind the rich and powerful that we are not an insignificant number, and we are prepared to act so we might change our future. We just need to do it together.”

Lynda paused, chewing with anticipation at her dark thumb nail.

“I’m not really one for demonstrations; I usually just keep my head down.” Lynda replied. Gort let out a tiny noise of frustration.

“I know, a lot of people think they’re not but if we’re able to gather as many people as possible we may yet have a chance; a chance to show them that we’re not just to be stepped on, a chance for them to hear our collective voice. Trust me when I say this needs to happen.”

“Well...” Lynda said, resting her chin into the palm of her hand, her sentence leaving a hook on the end that Gort couldn’t ignore.

“What can we expect to change if we are not prepared to put ourselves forward? Staying silent will only give them the indication of our consent. We’d be complicit in the government’s cruelties.” Gort put a hand on Lynda’s shoulder. “And shouldn’t we at least try, for our brothers and sisters who do not have our luck?”

“I’ll...consider it.” Lynda said, looking down at her knees with an expression that read of shame to any that could read it, which lead to Gort’s grin growing wider.

“Good. We’re going to be meeting at about seven; we could really do with you there. There will be a good number of us, enough to be counted at any rate.” Gort encouraged, taking his hand from her shoulder.

“Before I do anything, I just want to have a quick talk with Clarky. He’s always a good sounding board for this kind of thing.” Lynda said, rubbing the back of her neck and easing away some of the tension therein.

“Clarky?” Gort turned on the giant and looked surprised. “Who’s that?”

“He’s my friend...my brother, technically.” Lynda explained. “The rumour people may have seen me walking through the city with him?”

“I don’t recall.” Gort said, looking up as if to search the back of his eyelids for that information.

“Average height, brown hair, dirty duster travelling coat?” Lynda reached out and held her hand at what she felt that was about right for his height.

“Very descriptive.” Gort said, with more than a dash of sarcasm.

“...Looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards from a local sanatorium?” Lynda’s voice fell into a deadpan. Gort’s expression rushed though shock and slammed into a quiet indignation.

“Oh. Him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Why would you want to talk to him about this? Do you have to check with him? Does he chaperone you? Control you?” Nastiness crept across Gort’s words causing Lynda to metaphorically stumble back, holding her hands up in hopes of placating him.

“No, nothing like that-”

“Then this has nothing to do with him!” Gort stood to his feet, the passion rising in his veins as his hand stretched out. “It’s our people that suffer, daily, at the hands of baseline humanity!”

“But I trust him.” Lynda said, her voice slipping and becoming a little weaker.

“Trust? How can there be any trust between us and them?” Gort demanded, his words becoming more heated by the moment. “They have all profited from it, therefore they are all complicit in their crimes against us!”

“Clarky isn’t like that, though!” Lynda snapped her head back to Gort, taking a stand as her hands balled up around the loose pages, crumpling the thick sheaf as if it was a napkin, card folder and all. 

Gort’s eyes flicked down at her hands, and then back up. The slight waver as his smile dropped and then reasserted itself was almost imperceptible.

“...Perhaps I misunderstood your relationship.” He said, placing a hand on her forearm and speaking in a soothing fashion. “I’m always happy to be proven wrong when it comes to the intention of our allies; I’ve just grown to assume the worst sometimes. Perhaps you could invite him to the demonstration then; having him there is sure to send a message, given his normalcy?”

Lynda took a quick breath, before realising her precious references looked like a three dimensional topographical map of a mountain range. With a slight squeak of alarm Lynda placed them against her thigh and tried to smooth them back to being flat, though had little success.

“...Around seven, right?” Lynda asked after a brief moment of silence.

“Around seven, yes.” Gort repeated. “Just look for the large crowd of the downtrodden wanting to a better life.”

There was a pause, as Lynda looked down at the ruined references, garnering a small patch of quiet in order to gather her thoughts.

"I'll see you there." She said.