The Preacher

 Hundreds of workers, sitting on the ground, standing and leaning against the few walls and pillars, or over the railings on the walkways and balconies. Hundreds of people waiting for one, hundreds of voices silent to make way for one. The only one that they would honor that day. They ignored the heat, the steam, the crowd, the howling machinery, the grunge. Even the guards knew better than to enter this part of the facility that day. All of them hoped for freedom, which they never knew, and for a voice that would bring it ever closer. The Old Preacher had just entered this part of the building, silent and empty. He slowly followed the guide and the noise above, growing louder with every passing moment. His mind was full of worries. "Will they understand? Will they accept what I say?". He expected to be quickly chased away by the audience, but he wouldn't mind. "Perhaps some of them will. And that's worth a try...".