by Bō Jinn
“Madame President.”
She was woken from her trance when the limo doors opened.
A gale of hollers and cheers blasted through the open doors. The motorcade had stopped. The high façade of the Capitol Building lay directly across, down a long, wide path bordered with armed guards, parting a fiery sea of red and gold where the masses had gathered.
“Madame,” Shields called a second time. “It’s time to go.”
The President suddenly forgot where her mind had taken her and looked away, confused.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she answered, “I’m fine,” but remained in her seat nevertheless.
Security men peered in through the doors.
Shields leaned over and counselled her in a low voice. “The city has been on maximum security for the last week,” he said. “There are sentries all around the perimeter. No pro-militarists to worry about. You have my word.”
“I know that,” she replied. “I’m not afraid. Just … overwhelmed.” By what, exactly, she was unsure, whether it was premonition or memory… or both.
“Well,” said Shields, “you’re not alone.” He gestured out of the open door, where the masses roared, waving spangled flags and banners of red and gold. The fiery phoenix of the Eden Accord was speckled all over the plaza. He extended his hand to her, and the hand of help hung in the air for a while before she held onto it.
No sooner than the President emerged from the vehicle, a million voices bellowed in unison and a million pairs of hands undulated at her feet across Capitol Plaza, under the great red and gold banner of the eight-star-phoenix swaying high on the face of the Capitol Building.
She cleared her mind and braced herself for the mechanical route ahead.
The deafening euphoria heightened once the procession began, down the long path, over and across the crowds. Aircraft soared overhead from either flank and blew thick vaporous ribbons of yellow and crimson across the blue sky. She watched her own face projected back at her on two giant screens the height and breadth of tower blocks, standing at the heads of either half of the plaza, and she smiled and waved at her people from the high displays, and the mass veneration assailed her with chants of:
“Novum mundi resurgent!”
“Novum mundi resurgent!”
She soothed her troubled mind with thoughts of her beloved. Her daughter. The day could not pass soon enough. She wanted to be home.
The clamour continued up to the point that they passed under the lofty front arches of the Capitol Building. A red carpet marked their path to the grand vestibule. Members of the global media herded toward them from the aisles of the foyer and the battery of flashing lights and camera lenses followed them all the way through the immense doors of the Assembly Hall. And as a thousand Assemblors rose to ovation at once, all she could feel was the unshakable dread of something vast and fearful looming on the horizon.
C. 5: Day 462