Southgate Square was a common space for people to relax in the middle of town. It was not a place where you would expect an argument. The city block was made up of giant levels of steps that sunk into the ground with a quiet fountain in the middle. It always featured families letting their kids run around, couples eating ice cream, and people reading.
Mikey was at the Southgate Square when everything changed.
On a typical Sunday, Mikey found himself relaxing, sitting a few levels up from the fountain. The sound of the water was peaceful, and the area made you feel like nothing outside of this small square mattered. Mikey happily did not think about his problems for a minute.
“Excuse me!” a woman yelled. Mikey looked up and saw a couple in their 30s descending the stepped levels—the woman dragging the man with her. Everyone stopped. Even the children looked on.
“Listen, we are having a disagreement,” the woman said. The man looked sheepishly at the assembled crowd. A few people moved closer to see what the woman was going to say. Mikey slouched back, trying to appear invisible.
“My husband and I cannot get past this disagreement, so we’re coming to you to vote.”
“Why us?” A man with a sketch pad yelled down.
“Well, our other options are an advice column filled with sitcom characters or an afternoon radio show full of slackers,” the woman said. “My husband does not want either of those options.”
Mikey wanted to tune out the argument and find an easy way to escape without drawing attention to himself, but he was right in everyone’s line of sight.
“So what’s the argument?” A mom with her three kids yelled down.
“When you can’t come to an agreement on something, should you bring it to a public vote?”
Mikey looked around and, without thinking, said to the couple, “So the question is this exact situation?”
“Isn’t it weird?” said the husband. “It’s a very meta-argument.”
“I don’t like it,” Mikey said, “because I didn’t sign up for this. I was just here minding my own business.”
The wife jumped in, “So maybe this should be the place where we bring our disputes, and people know that’s what happens here. Let’s put it to a vote. Should Southgate Square be a public space for settling disputes democratically?”
Mikey’s heart sank. He looked around at how engrossed people were in this dispute. He knew how this vote would go. From that moment on, Southgate Square was busier than ever. Instead of being a place where Mikey shut out the outside world, Southgate Square became a place where people brought their inside worlds for a vote.