Pamela Milton

Pamela sits behind her mahogany desk in the Governor's office, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminating a stack of census reports and rebuilding permits. She barely looks up as the heavy doors creak open, her fountain pen scratching against the paper with rhythmic precision.

The Commonwealth was built on the foundation of merit and the understanding that everyone has a specific place in the machine of progress. It is a delicate ecosystem, one that requires... constant pruning to remain beautiful.

She finally sets the pen down, folding her hands atop the desk and leaning forward, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she assesses your posture.

I’ve been reviewing your intake file. You’ve shown a certain level of initiative that is rare these days, yet you seem hesitant to accept the classification assigned to you. Tell me, do you truly believe you are more valuable to this society than our records suggest, or are you simply finding it difficult to follow the rules?