Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 163: A complete mess, let's drink it while it's hot!

The weather in Washington was unusually good.

The sky was clear and blue; the strong winds of last night had blown the clouds away.

The conference room door was tightly closed.

McCann sat in the old-fashioned leather armchair at the far end of the room, his body buried in the shadows, his expression inscrutable.

He had been sitting there for half an hour without saying a word or moving a finger.

There were originally fourteen chairs in the room, but three more were brought in later.

No one spoke.

Nobody is using their phones.

The room fell into a deathly silence.

A few minutes later, someone couldn't hold back any longer.

The man was from Indiana, had slicked-back hair, and wore glasses.

He cleared his throat and said, "Mr. President, we all heard your speech yesterday."

"The wording was mild, the structure was complete, and it was appropriate for the status of a national leader. It also received a lot of positive reviews from the media."

“Gallup’s immediate feedback also showed that independent voters’ emotions had clearly calmed down.”

The atmosphere seemed to have eased a bit.

However, the next second, two cold laughs came from across the table.

"You people really take this as a accomplishment."

What did the president say last night?

The spokesperson shrugged, revealing an almost sarcastic smile:
'Reject fear,' 'Violence cannot tear us apart.'

"The entire speech revolved around the word 'pain,' yet he didn't even dare to mention Sever's name."

A Florida representative tried to interrupt, but he cut him off directly.

"Don't try to smooth things over, Tom."

"We both know perfectly well that Severe is dead. The explosions haven't stopped yet, and the New York Times has already started putting his ugly photos on the cover."

“He said he ‘incited division’ and ‘had enemies’.”

"And what about us? Relying on a few ambiguous speeches?"

"You want stability? You want order? Then tell me, why are supporters in various states starting to arm themselves and head to polling stations?"

"Tell me, why are hundreds of channels on Paperplanes reposting 'Heartland Recon's' posts?"

“I’ll tell you why—because they think we’re finished.”

"We don't even dare to say a complete sentence."

At that moment, a young state legislator from Oklahoma whispered:
"However, we can't give them any leverage. The whole nation is on edge right now, and the federal government is too deeply involved—"

Before he could finish speaking, he was abruptly interrupted.

"I fucking don't care about the Federation."

"What I care about is whether I can win the election."

The man turned to look at McCann, his gaze intense:
“Mr. President, you have to define this as an ‘internal subversion’ from the Democratic Party.”

"This is not a random event, not a security vulnerability, but a devastating blow to the republican constitution."

"Anyway, the entire country has now been raised to an orange alert level."

"As long as you don't explicitly object, they will interpret it in their own way."

From the corner, someone let out a cryptic sneer.

“They did that a long time ago.”

"Georgia mobilized several hundred people last night to 'train' outside the polling stations."

"The Department of Homeland Security sent people to persuade them, but they were mistaken for undercover agents and their tires were punctured."

"In the end, it was the county police who came and took the person out."

"Not only were they not afraid, they even asked in return: 'Which side is the Federation on now?'"

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, almost solidified.

McCann remained silent, gazing at the bright sunlight outside the window, as if he were deaf.

This time, someone finally couldn't take it anymore—a consultant from Georgia, nearly sixty years old.

“This is ridiculous, John.”

"We have always been defenders of the rule of law and anchors of order."

"But now, you want voters to organize illegal armed actions."

He said, leaning slightly forward. "At that point, who will obey Congress? Who will respect the voting system?"

"Moreover, if we set this precedent, those Democratic lawmakers could accuse us of 'colluding with violent groups' and 'interfering with democratic mechanisms' tomorrow."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a cold snort came from the side.

"The only thing you people care about right now is how to make us 'live with some dignity'."

"But Severus is dead, and his death was gruesome."

"Damn, this whole thing is even more serious than 9/11."

"Do you really intend to brush off voters with nonsense like 'investigate according to law'?"

"Tell them: 'Hey, we lost a candidate, but we're still more civilized than the other side,'"

"Civilization cannot win wars," he said.

"Yes, war."

"We have been drawn into a war."

"You talk about the court, about regulations, about patience."

The man leaned back and spread his hands: "From what you've said, I've only gleaned three things—"

"Weakness, decay, and disloyalty."

The Georgia advisor was clearly provoked and was about to stand up to retort, but was forcefully silenced by the man's loud voice:

"If you people lived in 1775, you might actually be able to persuade Washington to write a petition to His Majesty the King."

"Unfortunately, it's 2028 now."

As he spoke, he looked at McCann:
"Mr. President, you have already delivered a national address."

“Very well, we have no objections.”

"That's what a national commander should say."

"But what we need now is the stance of party leaders."

The man spoke slowly and deliberately: "Are you still on our side?"

The room fell silent for two seconds after he said that.

Then, a Pennsylvania establishment advisor suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence:

"If what you just said gets leaked, the New York Times editorial will be writing about it tomorrow—"

“‘The Republican Party is ready to launch the next election upheaval.’”

"Do you think public opinion is on our side now? We can't even protect our own people."

"The Democrats are keeping quiet now so we can blow things up ourselves."

“If we do exactly what you say, we will immediately go from being victims to perpetrators.”

The South Dakota representative sneered repeatedly, asking sarcastically:

"So what do you suggest?"

"Hiding corpses under the national flag while shouting slogans of unity and enduring the bleeding?"

"Or should we just follow you and slowly drown in the footnotes of 'procedural justice'?"

Upon hearing this, the Pennsylvania advisor couldn't help but take two deep breaths to avoid being so angry he would die.

Then look at McCann.

For some reason, the conference room fell into an eerie silence.

All eyes were on the man in the chair.

McCann still didn't move.

In the distance, a faint commotion could be heard—not from cars, not from sirens.

It was a shout.

It was very far at first.

Then it got closer little by little.

Like ripples, they spread, overlapped, and finally became a surging tide.

McCann stood up and lifted a corner of the curtain.

A crowd had gathered on the street.

The banner unfurled in the wind.

The font is large and the color is scarlet.
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Note: The author has something to do for the next two days, during which time there will likely be no internet access. I will try my best to upload the chapters. If that's not possible, I will upload them after the story ends.

(End of this chapter)