In the southeast corner of Oolagah Lake is The District. A population of 4.5 million, it is the home of the political class and their powerful allies. In The District, you will find the best restaurants, bars, lounges, and food trucks. The buildings are a mix of new construction with cranes fixed in the skyline and old rustic bricks priced so high only foreign developers bother to call them home. The theaters and playhouses, the galleries and museums, the concert halls and game rooms are just a few labeled with hashtags ‘world class’. Yes, the best of many, if not everything is there.
The air is thick and swims between the gray skyscrapers and the historical auburn blocks competing for height and attention. The noise is like thousands of tree leaves clapping at the dapper dons and dames racing past one another with horns from gridlocked cars and the traffic officer’s whistle competing against the bass booming beneath the street, and the buzzing murmurs completes the city’s daytime symphony of reverberations. The night, the air is thicker, and lights luminant. The people played up and down all at the same time, but still an accessory to the schemes and scams plotting in between night caps and generous tips.
Men and women with the weight of the world walked with a light foot and a soft touch. Decisions that affect 4.5 million people, and 5 million more between the districts are done over a drink and a low-carb snack and by people who avoid engaging with civilians or their constituents in order to maintain the rouse of being human.
Discretion, confidentiality, and ambition are the words echoed through the halls, rooms, and trickle down to new residents of The District. Friends, family, colleagues, and strangers must possess those three core components to survive in the southeast corner of the Lake.
