It was April 1st, 4780, and the Congress was officially opening for extraordinary sessions. As tradition dictated, the first to speak would be the vice president and the president of the Senate, that is, Mrs. Ventura and Mr. Hidalgo, with the president speaking last.
Karen, who was already four months pregnant, hadn’t changed drastically, but small details were now more noticeable. Her clothing, once form-fitting, no longer draped as precisely over her body, and though the curve of her belly was subtle, it was there, marking a natural change in her figure. Among the deputies and senators, some were more attentive, carefully choosing their words when addressing her, whether in the debates or in more casual conversations. It was a tacit respect, a courtesy born from the situation, one that didn’t need to be mentioned but was felt by all.
One of the most cautious in his dealings with her was Harrington. He often avoided speaking directly to her, opting to keep his comments to himself. His behavior wasn’t out of disrespect but rather from a personal experience that had left its mark on him. His daughter, who was also pregnant, had faced severe complications, ones that left a deep impression on him. As a result, he preferred not to risk words that could be misinterpreted, especially not engaging in unnecessary conflicts.
In contrast, Rivas never missed an opportunity to attack the opposition, trying to demonstrate power and determination. However, Harrington, observing from his seat, would raise his hand to his forehead with a worried expression. It seemed he didn’t understand, or didn’t want to understand, that the courtesy of others wasn’t for him, but for Karen, as a recognition of her condition.
“How can there be a donkey among steeds?” murmured Aníbal, seeking the attention of his close associates.
Finally, it was Karen’s turn to deliver her speech. Although long, her words flowed clearly, outlining a future full of promise for the nation. She spoke about societal growth, improvements in crime and hunger rates, and the boost to the agricultural sector. Her speech also highlighted the progress of the CAF infrastructure, which was expanding across the seven republics, marking the region’s progress day by day.
Her words were always optimistic, filled with hope for the future, especially directed at her party members and the government agents working under her mandate. She thanked them for their efforts and paid tribute to them, particularly the military, who, according to her, made this progress possible. "Brave soldiers, heroes of our history," she said fervently, filling the room with an almost reverential fervor. Fausto, watching her from his seat, didn’t share her sentiments but decided to keep his opinion to himself, knowing it wasn’t the time or place to voice his disagreements.
“We’ve walked together a treacherous path, as allies and adversaries alike. We’ve walked new ground, full of dreams and hopes. We’ve built a nation worthy of respect in the Seven Republics. We created a union that, though fragile and shaky at first, has become a strong and dignified institution for our people, for our citizens. However, even as we continue to grow, we must strengthen the state’s tools to ensure every citizen can feel secure and trust us. Let us draw closer to the people, and the people will draw closer to us. Today marks the beginning of a nation in splendor, of works that speak of love, not pain. A republic of equals, with no ego in the way.”
Karen concluded her speech with a phrase that resonated through the walls of Congress, a phrase that would mark her legacy and that of future rulers. “The Nation of Tomorrow has already arrived,” she said, a gleam in her eyes as though foreseeing a future full of opportunities and conquests. The words lingered in the air, like a promise, a shout of hope for all those present.
The pro-government senators applauded, and the opposition joined in with silent claps.
When the session ended, the Congress adjourned. The newspapers and radios spoke of the opening, the president’s speech, and the speculative gestures of those present. The people began to talk more about what they heard and saw. Concerns about the infected and the walls had been completely forgotten for this phase.
That same afternoon, Karen set off for the mountains of the Incan Republic, one of the most enigmatic regions of the Seven Republics. As her mode of transport ascended the ancient stone and dirt paths, the temperature dropped, and the air grew thinner. At over 5,100 meters above sea level, where in ancient times there was only a barren, frozen landscape, now stood a city surrounded by a majestic forest.
The trees, towering with thick trunks, reached heights of thirty to fifty meters. Their wood was so hard and dense that a regular axe would break before making a single cut. This forest was not just a geographical anomaly, but also a testament to the extreme changes the world had undergone after the nuclear war.
But what was most extraordinary about the region wasn’t just its vegetation. What truly amazed travelers were its inhabitants. Their skin had a deep blue hue, and some had subtly pointed ears. They were known as the Azulados, and although they could be found in various corners of the Seven Republics, it was in these mountains where it was believed they had originated. How or why they had changed, no one knew for certain.
Some suggested it was due to radiation. They said that, centuries ago, when the bombs devastated the world, when the infected attacked and began to spread chaos, many sought refuge in the mountains, staying there for a long time. Perhaps the Azulados’ blue skin was a sign of that adaptation, a natural protection against the radioactive waste still lingering in the earth.
Others believed the change was due to the altitude. At more than five thousand meters, the solar radiation was much more intense and lethal. The blue skin of the inhabitants of the Incan Republic might have evolved as a barrier against ultraviolet rays, a modification of melanin that made them more resistant to the sun.
And then there was the forest.
Before the war, that region was nothing more than a cold, barren desert where life barely persisted in small herbs. But after the nuclear devastation, the world changed in ways that were inexplicable. The climate became erratic, the seas encroached upon the land, and regions once barren began to flourish with life.
Some believed that the radiation itself had accelerated the evolution of plants, creating trees that grew at an unnatural speed and with an unprecedented resilience. Others argued the change was due to atmospheric alterations that redistributed rainfall and transformed winds. What was once dry and rocky became a lush ecosystem.
Valley of the Sky. That was the name of the province, divided into two districts: Rinconada and Moray. Its government was in the hands of an unusual party, Acción Popular (AP), an anomaly in a territory where the usual RIU party and others were present from the other republics. However, RIU’s weakness was evident; even when Fausto assumed the presidency, they couldn’t win over the people.
Karen, however, knew how to handle the situation. First, she arranged a meeting with Governor Axel Gómez and attended the inaugurations of new hospitals, primary schools, and housing projects. She knew the government’s presence at those events was crucial. Due to her health condition and the altitude, she carried a personal oxygen tank, monitored by specialized attendants. Fausto nearly lost his mind when he learned Karen would be traveling there, fearing something would happen to her and, with it, the loss of their child.
However, an old suspicion lingered in the air: some believed that Karen was using her health condition to gain the empathy of the people. After all, the Blue Ones had always remained aloof from politics. They appreciated Fausto’s gestures, yes, but they showed no interest in getting actively involved. They simply benefited from social policies when they could.
Karen, however, sensed that this place would be crucial for her administration. If she could win over the Blue Ones, she could solidify her power in the region.
Fausto felt immense joy and relief when they left the place. Though Karen had spent a day there and felt some mild symptoms due to the altitude, both she and the baby were out of danger. However, the President's visit to the area would leave a mark and an emblem on the future citizens born there. The RIU party would merge with the AP party, and it would later be known as AR (Radical Action). This party would establish itself in the province for many years to come.
The President’s measures, though well-intentioned, sparked a problem that affected the opposition sector, primarily the JW party. Aníbal Torcuato Harrington brought it up every time Vice President Ventura spoke about the budget, for, according to many, more funds were being allocated to infrastructure than to the maintenance of the walls.
While many historians, including the esteemed Tomás Venezuela, believed there had been no cuts during the Gabrielist era, they were mistaken. Just like Fausto, Karen reduced the budget for the walls by 15% in order to reallocate those funds to other projects. At the time, this was seen as an outrageous move.
By the fourth month of her pregnancy, Karen stopped attending Congress in person. Instead, Vice President Ventura took her place. She was a capable woman, yes, but not as clever or as skilled with the sharp and quick tongue of Aníbal.
"We are aware that state policies are very beneficial to the people, as long as they provide security," Senator Harrington said, his tone deliberately challenging. "But tell me, President Amanda Ventura, if you can: what is the purpose of reducing the budget for something as essential as the maintenance of the walls?"
"We believe it’s necessary for the project we have in mind. While the budget has been reduced, that doesn’t mean it’s insufficient or volatile. On the contrary, there are matters that require more attention."
"I suppose survival is secondary. It’s better for a street to look nice, right?"
"Senator Harrington, your concern is understandable. But as long as there’s no need to keep workers who only get paid to wait a year until their services are needed for the wall, there is no reason for the National State of the Seven Republics to pay for that."
"It’s easy to say that when the structures are standing, President. But when those walls start to wobble, what will your government do?"
"Don’t exaggerate your personal concern, Senator. The walls are fine and in perfect condition. They have received adequate maintenance. Now it’s time to focus efforts on other causes."
"What causes? Nicer streets? Painted houses? What?"
"Senator Harrington, I’ll ask you a question: is it better to live so the walls have more concrete and reinforced structures, or for a worker to have decent housing? Is it fair that the cement stored for the walls is so expensive that an average citizen can’t afford it for their home?"
"It’s easy to say that from your pedestal, Madam President," Harrington replied, a subtle smile crossing his face, almost as if he enjoyed the turn the conversation had taken. "But haven’t you forgotten a small detail? Survival is not something that can be taken lightly. The walls are the first line of defense for this State. While a roof over your head is necessary, the stability of the State itself depends on the security those walls provide. If the investment in them is reduced, you are putting at risk the very foundation of everything you claim to protect."
The room remained silent as he kept his gaze fixed on Vice President Ventura, assessing each of her responses. That was what he sought, and when Ventura broke eye contact, Harrington showed no mercy.
"You say that it's unnecessary to keep workers for the walls, that they are fine and in perfect condition," Harrington continued, his voice now deeper and slower. "But isn't that precisely the problem? We always talk about what’s ‘fine’ until it falls apart, until that stability we take for granted crumbles before our eyes. And then, of course, it will be too late to do anything. It's easy to make cuts when the structures haven't failed yet, but when they do, who will take responsibility?"
Ventura tried to respond, but Harrington gently interrupted her with a wave of his hand.
"I'm not saying that the streets don't need attention, nor that the workers' homes aren’t important. But there are priorities, Ms. Ventura, and the priorities of a government must be clear. A people living under the threat of a wall that could fall at any moment, even if they have beautiful streets, doesn’t live in peace. They live in fear. Let’s not talk about 'social justice' if what we’re really doing is blinding the people to the real threat."
Amanda felt uncomfortable, and unconsciously looked towards Fausto. He tried to shake his head, but it was too late; he already knew.
"Don't look at him," Harrington said firmly, pointing at Fausto with a gaze that cut through all courtesy and euphemisms. "Look at me. Fausto is not part of this, Ms. President. You are the one here to answer, you are the one who’s part of Congress. Are you here to defend your policies or to hide behind shadows that don't belong to you?"
A murmur spread through the room, and some congressmen exchanged uncertain looks. The former president had been a powerful figure, and his presence in the room, though without a title, was not something that could be easily ignored. But the way Harrington used him as a tool to expose Ventura's insecurity was a devastating blow.
Rivas, seeing the mounting pressure on Amanda, didn’t hesitate to jump to her defense. With a firm tone and a challenging look toward Harrington, he stepped forward and said:
"Enough, Harrington!" he interrupted, raising his voice to cut the tension. "The Vice President doesn’t have to justify every one of her moves in the face of a baseless attack. This is not about weakness or hiding behind others. Her policy seeks what’s best for the people, and sometimes that involves making tough decisions, not always popular, but necessary. If you think the security of our nation depends solely on the walls, you're wrong. The future of this country lies in the decisions we make today, not in resurrecting ghosts of the past."
Rivas gave Harrington a defiant look before turning his attention to the Vice President.
"Amanda, you don't owe anyone anything except the people. You’re not alone in this."
When Rivas intervened, the room fell silent for a moment. His defense of Amanda was clear, but Harrington wasn’t going to let it slide so easily.
"Oh, really?" he began, with a sarcastic tone. "'You don’t owe anyone except the people.' That sounds nice. But did we forget that the people also elect their representatives, those who are in this Congress to answer, not just the masses on the streets? Don’t you find it curious, Senator Rivas Hidalgo, that you, who once opposed Fausto’s policies, now give your unconditional support to Vice President Ventura? Isn’t it a bit contradictory that, in your eagerness to distance yourself from a former government, you’re now embracing the same kinds of decisions that led this country to the brink of decay? Under your own words, of course."
Harrington let his words sink in, then continued, this time looking directly at Rivas with an unyielding gaze.
"Isn’t loyalty also about consistency, Senator? Not just momentary popularity. What you're doing here is the same thing many others did before: betraying the principles of your own party to align with what seems to be a convenient policy. Politics isn’t about ‘not being alone,’ as you say. It’s about having the courage to face the consequences of your decisions. If Mrs. Ventura truly believes her proposal is solid, she should be able to defend it without hiding behind empty phrases or questionable allies."
Senator Harrington gave a slight smile, confident he had placed Rivas in a difficult position.
"And as it’s already been made clear, the Vice President has the opportunity to defend her actions herself. She doesn't need anyone to cover her eyes from the truth. The people will know what to do with the information."
The RIU party began to murmur amongst themselves, as Rivas was about to speak again, but he was stopped by members of his own party. However, Harrington continued speaking to the vice president.
"Do you want to hide or ask for help, Mrs. Ventura?" Harrington continued, his voice now laced with challenge. His tone shifted, becoming more persuasive. "It’s not bad to ask for help; it’s a sign of wisdom to know when you can’t solve something alone. But, apparently, your pride seems to be above the safety of all of us."
The room fell silent. It was evident that Harrington had placed the vice president in an uncomfortable position. He had stripped her of her shield of courtesy, pointed out her vulnerability by looking at Fausto, and questioned her leadership ability by suggesting she was trying to hide.
Amanda, now clearly out of her comfort zone, tried to suppress an expression of frustration. She couldn’t afford to lose control, but every word from Harrington pushed her closer to the edge.
"You don’t need to hide, Madam President. You just need to recognize that the priorities of a government can’t be so easily diverted. Security is not something we can afford to reduce."
With a slight tilt of his head, Harrington let his words sink in. The room was tense, waiting for Ventura’s response. Though committed to her position, Ventura felt the blow.
"Now, let me be more direct," the senator continued. "You talk about 'redistributing' funds to other causes, as if that money could cure all the ills of society. But, Mrs. Ventura, that money won’t be enough. The wall remains the absolute priority for the safety of the people. Without it, what are we offering to the workers, to the families, if not a false promise of well-being that crumbles the moment the real threat materializes?"
His tone softened, but his words were still sharp.
"I'm not saying you shouldn’t fight for housing, but let me be clear: if we don’t protect what we have, those nice houses will just be ashes in a world destroyed by negligence. I assure you, the infected outside won’t come to clean the streets or be friendly. A budget that doesn’t prioritize state defense is not a sensible budget; it’s an invitation to chaos. That’s all, Madam President."
Harrington leaned back slightly in his chair, letting his final comment hang in the air, knowing he had made a deep impact. The vice president cleared her throat, clearly more aware of the solidity of her own arguments.
When Ventura tried to continue, frustration was evident on her face; she couldn’t respond. She wasn’t used to such intense confrontations. However, before she could continue with the project, Fausto raised his hand.
"Madam President, may I say something?" he asked firmly.
The opposition erupted in shouts and cheers of disagreement, chanting phrases like "Shut up and respect!" or "Dynasty, this is a dynasty!" Meanwhile, Harrington observed from his seat, studying Fausto’s body language. He was no longer the young man he once was; now he was a full-grown man. He had let his facial hair grow, a clear sign that he was no longer a boy.
Ventura hesitated for a moment, but, summoning her courage, she granted him the floor.
"It’s the people’s house, of course, you may speak," she replied, trying to maintain composure.
"Thank you, Madam President," Fausto said, standing up and directing his gaze toward the opposition senator.
"Mr. Harrington, may I ask you a question?" Fausto inquired.
"Go ahead," Harrington replied, though his tone was skeptical.
"Alright, what would you do?" Fausto asked, without losing his composure.
"Pardon?" Harrington seemed confused.
"What you heard. What would you do, Mr. Harrington? It’s easy to point out mistakes in the budget and structure, but you’re so focused on defending the interests of the walls..." Fausto said, emphasizing the last words with a challenging tone.
Harrington immediately understood that those three words, “of the walls,” were a direct attack. While they didn’t mean much in concrete terms, in politics, every word carries specific weight. Fausto was implying that he and his party only listened to the walls, and, if we are being logical, walls don’t speak, don’t think, and are certainly not alive. In other words, Fausto was pointing out that Harrington’s position lacked substance and was driven by interests disconnected from reality.
But Fausto made a miscalculation. Harrington not only knew how to read between the lines, but he also knew how to turn the attacks to his advantage.
“What would you do, Fausto?” Harrington replied with a calmness that only someone very confident in themselves could possess. “Would you close your eyes to the threat of the walls and say everything is fine while the people live under a false sense of security? Is that what you propose? Because, believe me, speaking without offering clear solutions is just a way of hiding behind empty rhetoric.”
The room fell silent, listening closely as Harrington dismantled Fausto's stance. Fausto had raised an accusation, but he hadn't provided an answer. He merely pointed to the problem without wanting to deal with the solution.
“Harrington, it seems to me that you’re more concerned with the walls than the real needs of the people,” Fausto said, as though trying to continue his attack, though no longer with the same confidence as before.
“And what do you propose?” Harrington looked at him challengingly. “Accusing without the courage to offer something concrete is nothing but a way to escape responsibility, and that, Mr. Fausto, is not politics; it’s demagoguery.”
But Fausto knew well how to defend himself. He wouldn’t be dragged into Harrington’s provocations. Throughout his career, he had learned to recognize when an adversary tried to divert attention and to turn the situation to his advantage. Something that Victorino had taught him.
“Mr. Harrington,” Fausto began, his voice firm but calm. “It’s true that the walls are important, and we all know how vital they have been for our security. I’m not blind to that, but I cannot remain silent when I see a greater blindness, one that fails to see the true face of the situation. It’s not proposed that we abandon the walls or stop maintaining them. What is being said is that we cannot continue spending indefinite amounts on them while there are people inside who need our help. The security, the protection those walls offer, has no value if those within them have nothing to eat, no access to quality education or healthcare. We cannot let fear rule us, because fear doesn’t build a nation; what builds a nation are the opportunities for its people.”
The room murmured, some nodding, others not as convinced. Fausto, however, continued with the same clarity and authority he had maintained throughout his presidency.
“The walls protect us, yes,” he said, pausing to let his words sink in. “But it’s not the walls that define us as a society, they are not the ones that give us identity. We are the citizens who shape our nation. We can’t keep justifying everything based on security. The people need more than that. They need economic stability, jobs, an educational system that doesn’t fail them, and healthcare that isn’t out of their reach. That’s what is being proposed, what must be maintained, and what I and those of us present are willing to fight for, because I may not have a vote, Senator, but I have a voice, and my voice matters, just like yours.”
Fausto looked directly at Harrington, unwavering. He knew these confrontations weren’t just about ideas, but about who controlled the narrative. He wasn’t going to lose that battle.
“What would I do?” Fausto repeated, his tone even firmer. “Reduce the budget for what isn’t essential, without compromising the safety of our people, of course. It’s not about dismantling the walls, it’s about prioritizing. If what we want is to maintain a prosperous nation, we need to better distribute our resources. What good is it to defend a wall that prevents the danger from the outside, but does nothing for the families living within its shadows? Because a person who can’t find a job or food might just be willing to take their chances with the infected.”
A deep silence fell over the room. Fausto had touched on a delicate subject: the fear that was fed through the constant maintenance of the walls, but also the fact that the real threat wasn’t only on the outside, but in neglecting internal needs. The citizens no longer only wanted security, they wanted to live a dignified life.
“And yes, I understand the fear. I’ve felt it too, I’ve lived it,” he added, his tone softer, seeking to connect with his audience. “But we must understand that fear can blind us, can make us cling to what no longer serves us. I’m not an enemy of security, but I refuse to be a prisoner of it. We cannot remain stuck in fear of the future. If there’s one thing my time as president taught me, it’s that we must learn to balance protection with progress, fear with hope, and walk together toward peace, well-being, and the future.”
Fausto took a step forward, reaffirming his stance with a serenity that only experienced leaders possess.
“So, Mr. Harrington, with all due respect, my question is: what good is it to maintain a concrete wall if life behind it remains fragile and unsustainable? I propose a path toward true security, a path that is not just based on protection, but on prosperity. That’s what our citizens need. That’s what I would do.”
The silence lasted a little longer, but this time, the room didn’t murmur with the same certainty as before. Fausto had managed to redirect the debate, showing a broader, more humane vision that invited thinking about the future, not just the security of the present.
When Fausto sat down, much of the Senate stood up and began to applaud. Harrington gave a slight gesture of disapproval; he hadn’t managed to break down the officialist speech, but he had achieved something even more valuable: he knew that without Fausto, the officialism was nothing.
Meanwhile, in the presidential house, Karen relaxed in her bed, listening to the radio and everything that had occurred. A smile crossed her face, and she let out a sigh.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
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