America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

The stage setup was simple: a huge desk piled high with files.

A map was hanging on the wall, but it was completely wrapped up with countless red tapes.

European countries once widely used red ribbons to bind government documents, and in the early 19th century, "red ribbon documents" became a common metaphor for bureaucratic delays.

John Smith, a timid-looking citizen in a gray suit, stands in front of his desk.

Behind the desk sat Humphrey, his expression as calm as a rock.

"Name?" Humphrey asked without looking up, his pen moving across the form.

"Smith. John Smith."

Have you filled out application form C-12?

"Filled it out."

"What about Appendix D-4?"

"I filled it out too."

"What about that notarized document proving that your grandmother did not owe taxes in 1895?"

The audience burst into laughter.

Mr. Smith asked cautiously, "Is that necessary?"

Humphrey finally raised his head and said:

"Mr. Smith, in our system, nothing is absolutely necessary, and nothing is completely unnecessary."

"But my house is about to collapse, I just want to apply for roof repairs."

"roof?"

Humphrey took out a book thicker than a brick and flipped through it.

"According to Article 482, repairing the roof is considered an 'aerial structural alteration,' and you need to apply for airspace use rights from the Civil Aviation Administration first."

"The Civil Aviation Administration? But my house only has two floors!"

Humphrey closed the book and said regretfully:

"That's not our responsibility. If your roof collapses, that's a 'ground structure alteration,' and then you can come to our ruins management office."

The audience burst into laughter.

George Bernard Shaw, sitting in the front row, laughed so hard his beard trembled. He turned his head, intending to say something to the empty seat next to him, only to find it was still empty.

He frowned, then turned back to continue watching the show.

On stage, the plot continues to unfold.

Mr. Smith did not give up; he took out a stack of documents:

"Mr. Humphrey, I have prepared all the required documents. Here you see, this is the application form, this is the certificate, this is the notarization..."

Humphrey took the document and flipped through it page by page. His movements were slow and meticulous, as if he were reviewing some important state secret.

"Hmm, the form is filled out correctly, but..."

"But what?" Mr. Smith asked nervously.

"But these documents need to be stamped by the archives bureau."

"I'll go now! I'll be right back."

"Wait." Humphrey raised his hand to stop Smith.

"The archives office is open from 9:00 AM to 11:00 AM on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

"It's already Wednesday afternoon."

"Yes, so you can't go today or tomorrow."

"Then I'll go the day after tomorrow!"

"The day after tomorrow is Friday. However, this Friday is the end of the month, and the Archives Bureau will be organizing its files and will not be open to the public."

"What about next Monday?"

Next Monday is a public holiday.

"Next Wednesday?"

"The head of the archives bureau is having a meeting next Wednesday."

Mr. Smith's voice began to tremble: "Then when exactly can I get the stamp?"

Humphrey pondered for a moment, then opened the calendar on the table and examined it carefully: "According to the current schedule, the earliest time is... three months from now."

"Three months?!"

"Yes. And that's assuming no other unforeseen circumstances arise."

The audience laughed even harder.

Just as the curtain was falling on the opening segment, the side door of the theater was suddenly and gently pushed open.

Several men dressed in black suits, with serious expressions, quickly walked in and warily scanned their surroundings.

The audience noticed these people, and whispers began to spread throughout the theater.

Immediately afterwards, two assistants stepped forward, one on each side, and steadily helped a middle-aged man wearing pince-nez glasses and with a long pipe in his mouth into the room.

With the support of a steel leg brace, the middle-aged man straightened his back and took a few firm but slow steps.

Although he needed leverage for every step, his proud posture and infectious confident smile made everyone around him pale in comparison.

It was as if he wasn't the one walking into the theater, but rather the entire room stood up in solemn silence at his arrival.

The entire room fell silent instantly; even breathing seemed to stop.

Even in dim lighting, every New Yorker could recognize this face.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Governor of New York State.

The workers changing the set on stage paused for a moment, but quickly regained their composure.

But the audience below the stage could no longer concentrate.

Everyone was watching that man.

Arthur, standing in the side of the curtain, froze completely.

Franklin Roosevelt? What's he doing here?

Isabella, standing beside him, was equally stunned and speechless.

She whispered, "You invited him?"

Arthur shook his head:

"No, I didn't invite him. But Samuel did reserve a seat for me; I didn't expect it to be him who came."

The silence lasted only a few seconds before being broken by thunderous applause and exclamations.

This sensation was several times stronger than when George Bernard Shaw entered the venue.

Roosevelt smiled and waved to the surroundings, as if he were not there to watch a play, but to inspect his territory.

His smile was warm and confident, and his innate leadership qualities captivated the entire theater.

Roosevelt went to the middle seat and sat down next to George Bernard Shaw.

Two prominent figures from different fields met in this small theater in Providence.

George Bernard Shaw stood up and looked at Roosevelt with great interest. He extended his hand:

"Mr. Governor, I thought politicians were too busy cutting cake at banquets to watch this self-deprecating comedy."

Roosevelt grasped Shaw's hand, burst into laughter, his voice booming:

"Mr. George Bernard Shaw, if you know New York politics, you'll know that watching someone get mocked is much tastier than eating cake."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for those around to hear.

The reporters frantically took notes.

This is big news!

The governor himself came to watch the satirical play about City Hall! It's like he has "I don't like Jimmy Walker" written all over his face!

At this moment, Arthur and Williams rushed over from backstage.

Arthur walked up to Roosevelt: "Governor, your arrival makes us... feel flattered."

Roosevelt looked up, scrutinizing Arthur through his glasses.

"Don't be nervous, young man. I'm here as an audience member today. I heard your play kept some people up at night? That's good. In this day and age, sleeping too soundly isn't a good thing."

He patted the armrest of his chair: "Alright, let's begin. Don't let me down."

Arthur nodded and turned to walk backstage. His heart was pounding in his chest.