Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 444: Chapter 207: The Shifting Vote (3)

"Does that slogan sound familiar?"

The image on the screen changed, cutting to a video clip of Leo speaking at a community kitchen in Pittsburgh.

It was one of a series of promotional events for his "Pittsburgh Revival Plan."

Onscreen, Leo was passionately addressing a crowd of workers. "...While Wall Street bankers are taking home astronomical bonuses, our workers are left to die because they can’t afford their medicine! This system is broken! It’s killing people!"

The commentator’s voiceover returned, playing over the footage of Leo’s speech.

"Wallace planted this seed of hatred."

"He told people the rich were their enemy, that capitalists were vampires, that health insurance companies were the executioners stealing their lives away."

"Now, that seed has sprouted."

"This is the Pittsburgh Virus. It’s spreading across the state, and across the United States."

"Leo Wallace has the blood of Arthur Vance on his hands."

The commentator’s voice echoed through the office.

Leo’s eyes narrowed.

"Absolute bullshit."

Leo spat the words out coldly before shutting off the video.

"They’re building a narrative."

Roosevelt’s voice rang in his mind.

"They don’t care about the truth. All they care about is how to use this body."

"A madman killed someone. That’s a tragedy."

"But if they can tie that madman to your political platform, he becomes a weapon."

"They want to paint you as an instigator of terrorism."

"Leo, the online sentiment is terrible right now," Sarah’s voice came through. "Twitter is flooded with hashtags about Wallace inciting murder. The right-wing media is retweeting them like crazy, and even some centrist outlets are starting to question if your rhetoric is too radical."

"We have to apologize, or at least issue a statement condemning the violence and distancing ourselves from it."

Sarah offered the standard crisis management advice.

"Distance ourselves?"

Leo looked at Sarah.

"If we rush to distance ourselves now, we’re essentially admitting to their accusations."

"We’d be admitting that there was something wrong with my speeches, that my ideals did lead to violence."

"I’d go from being a reformer to a guilty suspect."

"Investigate the shooter."

Leo gave the order.

"I want to know who he is and why he opened fire."

Sarah nodded, and the video call ended.

Leo stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the heavy curtains.

"All right," Leo said to his reflection in the glass. "That’s enough for tonight."

"I need to rest."

He turned and looked at the empty room.

"The vote is tomorrow."

"A storm is definitely waiting for us there."

...

「Washington D.C., Capitol Hill.」

Beneath the dome of the Senate chamber, the atmosphere was tense.

A massive electronic tally board hung above the rostrum. With every flicker of its red and green numbers, the nerves of everyone present were frayed.

This was the decisive moment.

The final vote on the "National Strategic Supply Chain Resilience and Regional Industrial Upgrade Act" was underway.

The voting was nearing its end.

Daniel Sanders sat in the front row of the Democratic Party seats, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow furrowed.

After yesterday’s luncheon ended on a sour note, he had spent the entire night like a salesman, shuttling in and out of the offices of every senator on the swing-vote list.

He had promised committee seats for the next quarter, agreed to back down on certain agricultural bills, and even had to hold his nose and stump for a few members of the Establishment Faction he wouldn’t normally give the time of day.

The cost was steep, but he had managed to hold the line.

The best-case scenario was a 50-50 split, leaving it to the Vice President to cast the tie-breaking vote.

As of yesterday, at least, Christo had promised him she would vote ’yea’.

As for Joe Mannheim, Sanders had lobbied him as much as possible, but Mannheim had refused to commit, and Sanders couldn’t read what lay hidden behind his eyes.

"Clerk, please continue the roll call."

The Acting President of the Senate banged the gavel.

"Senator Mannheim of West Virginia."

All eyes fell on a burly, silver-haired senator.

Sanders looked at Mannheim and gave a slight nod, a silent reminder of the understanding they had reached the previous night.

Mannheim rose to his feet.

He straightened his suit, not even sparing Sanders a glance.

"Nay."

The word left his lips, as light as a feather.

A murmur rippled through the chamber.

Sanders’s fingers tapped once on the armrest.

Mannheim’s betrayal didn’t surprise him. He was already mentally prepared to lose that vote.

’It’s fine.

’As long as the remaining Democratic senators don’t drop the ball and Senator Christo votes ’yea’ as promised, the final tally will be 50-50.

’Then, the Vice President will cast the deciding vote.’

Sanders’s gaze shifted to Christo.

"Senator Christo of Arizona."

A female senator in a brightly colored suit rose to her feet.

The night before, after Sanders had promised to support her appropriation for a border water project, she had hinted she would consider the bigger picture.

Christo glanced at Sanders, then over at the Minority Leader, McConnell, across the aisle.

McConnell gave her a slight nod.

Christo took a deep breath.

"Nay."