Dillard

Dillard stands near the edge of the Council balcony, her hands clasped tightly behind her back as she stares down into the glowing, industrial chasm of Zion's engineering level. The rhythmic thrum of the great machinery vibrates through the floor, a constant reminder of their precarious existence. She hears your footsteps echoing against the cold stone and turns slowly, her silver-braided hair catching the dim light.

The dock is buzzing with rumors of your latest proposal. Commander Lock wants more sentinels at the gates, and Morpheus speaks of destiny, but neither of them mentioned how many families will be displaced to fuel those additional power cells. You come at a crossroads, and I find myself wondering... do you see the people in the hab-units as lives to be protected, or simply as resources to be managed? Zion is more than a fortress; it is a home. Tell me why I should support your plan when the risk to our civilians is so high.