Holding an Election in South America (2)
"......"
I stared at the constitutional amendment draft Isabella had laid out, struck speechless — but only for a moment. I immediately pushed back against her proposal.
"A seven-year term is already absurd, and now you're saying I can be reelected with no limit at all? Don't you think that's a bit of a problem?"
Isabella didn't so much as blink.
"The foundation of democracy is the people's choice. If the people wish it, you must answer that calling — for twenty years, thirty years, however long it takes. And if you fail to receive the people's choice, then you may step down. Is that not so?"
"No matter how I look at this, it isn't right. Let's go with a single seven-year term instead. Serve exactly seven years and step down cleanly. That would actually help the development of democracy—"
"Your Excellency! That is out of the question!"
A bang erupted from the far end of the table as Pedro shot to his feet. The first man of the San Marcos military locked onto me with eyes like tempered steel.
"Your Excellency. The armed forces follow you and you alone. If you were to step down, no one can say how the military would move."
"That's something you can keep under control, Marshal Pedro."
"I am nearly sixty. I will have to hand over my post and retire before long — and without Your Excellency, control of the military would be impossible."
"Wow... I'm jealous..."
In the instant I was envying him, Pedro clenched his fist tight.
"Your Excellency, do you wish to see soldiers turn their guns on one another again? Do you intend to shove this country back into the fires of civil war?"
"Hold on, what does that have to do with—"
The national-security argument had me at a loss for words. Then a chilling voice drifted from across the table.
"Marshal Pedro is correct."
Lucio, Director of the SIA, opened his mouth, his eyes gleaming with something unpleasant.
"San Marcos as it stands today is a structure built on empty air. The moment Your Excellency steps down, the criminal organizations and reactionaries we have held in check will resume their activities. The only person who can prevent that is you."
Before I could even form a rebuttal, Ricardo, the Senior Secretary for Finance, was on his feet.
"The economy would fall into crisis just the same."
"Suddenly?"
"Why do you think Korean companies are pouring money into San Marcos? This country's growth potential? No. They invested because they believe in Your Excellency. Only you."
Ricardo laid it out point by point, as if tapping through a calculator.
"If Your Excellency steps down, large-scale capital flight will begin immediately and investment will freeze. Jobs will shrink, and the boom we enjoy now will scatter like a mirage. Your resignation would be nothing less than a death sentence for the San Marcos economy."
I could barely breathe. Then even Sergio, the usually mild-mannered Senior Secretary for Education, stepped forward with a trembling, tearful expression.
"Your Excellency... you yourself said that education is a policy that must be measured in centuries. San Marcos's education system has only just begun to take root. And if the next president decides the budget is too tight and cuts the school meals? Closes schools? Who takes responsibility for our children's future?"
Sergio pleaded with everything he had.
"At the very least, until the children who have just enrolled become adults... should Your Excellency not be the one to protect them?"
Every exit was sealed. The loyalty of the military, the stability of society, the confidence of the economy, the future of the children — all of it was bound to my existence.
I had built this system to survive. Paradoxically, that same system was now closing around my throat.
"Your Excellency."
Isabella delivered the finishing blow.
"This amendment is not ambition. It is the last remaining measure this country has. San Marcos as it exists today cannot be held up by anyone but you."
She tapped the amendment papers sitting in front of me.
"Do you want the people to starve to death and die by gunfire?"
"When did I ever say I wanted that—"
"Then please. Accept the people's calling. I beg you."
"......"
Judging by the atmosphere in the room, if I dug in my heels here they were fully prepared to launch a hunger strike.
...I'll just say I understand for now.
No term limits didn't mean I actually had to keep doing this. Change the law first, and later I could run or step down depending on how things looked.
I let out a long breath and nodded.
"...Very well. If that is truly your collective will, I will accept this amendment."
In that instant—
"Waaaaaah!"
The cabinet members rose from their seats as one and erupted in cheers.
"Long live Your Excellency! Long live San Marcos!"
"A wise decision!"
And so the presidential term of San Marcos was set: seven years, with unlimited reelection.
That night.
A hidden room in the basement of the Presidential Palace.
The core members of UF — Ujin Forever — had gathered to prepare for the coming election. Isabella, Chief of Staff, and Lucio, Director of the SIA. The innermost circle of Eugene, the man who held living power in his hands. Their eyes burned like those of revolutionaries on the eve of an uprising.
Isabella set down her teacup and spoke.
"As you saw earlier, His Excellency has accepted the amendment. For us, that was the greatest hurdle."
Lucio asked, his gaze dark and hungry.
"Then all that remains is the election itself."
"His Excellency will run as the sole candidate in any case. The result is as good as decided. When running unopposed, one needs only the support of more than fifty percent of those who vote."
Isabella set her cup down again.
"However."
Her eyes went cold.
"Our goal is not a mere victory. An approval rate of one hundred percent. A perfect triumph without a single dissenting ballot. That is the coronation gift we must present to His Excellency."
"One hundred percent..."
Lucio's mouth curled into a thin, unpleasant smile.
"Our side has already begun. Agents are circulating through Libertad, continuously checking whether any blasphemous rumors have started to spread."
"Even if something of that nature does arise, we must not respond with force. His Excellency places great importance on fairness."
"Do not worry. I have already issued instructions with that in mind. And the provinces?"
"The National Saemaul Women's Association has those locked down. Maria, the association chairwoman, has even spread a rumor that hanging His Excellency's photograph will cure illness. Some of them regard him as something close to a god."
"Excellent."
Isabella and Lucio looked at each other and smiled, satisfied. Every preparation was complete. All that remained was to drive up turnout and concentrate every last vote on Eugene.
"Shall we discuss the electoral methods, then?"
The two of them put their heads together through the night, working out every possible way to tilt the election in Eugene's favor.
"What if we station volunteers in front of the polling stations? So that voters don't get confused — a kind escort, right beside the voting booth, to guide them through it."
"As expected of you, Chief of Staff. Your consideration runs deep. The voters will feel thoroughly reassured as they cast their ballots."
"And we make His Excellency's name and the voting box large on the ballot paper. The opposition box, we make small."
"Hmm... that might come off as a little petty. Rather than that, perhaps..."
"For campaigning, we rely as much as possible on television and radio..."
"Some of the provinces may not have media access, so we place battery-powered radios in every village..."
"To make certain that everyone votes, we make it legally mandatory — but we also declare it a public holiday..."
By the time dawn broke and every discussion had been settled, Isabella and Lucio steeled their resolve once more.
"This election is how we show it. How deeply the people of San Marcos love His Excellency. Let us prove that burning desire in numbers."
And so the historic presidential race of San Marcos began.
Of course, only one person was ever going to be standing at the finish line.
Ten days later.
Nearly a million citizens packed into the central square of Libertad, the capital of San Marcos. The city's total population was a little over five million, which meant one in five had come. Their reason for gathering was simple: to see Eugene's campaign rally.
The square was so full that people had spilled onto the rooftops of nearby buildings, and the police had to deploy in full force to keep any accident or unrest from breaking out.
How long they waited, no one could say.
Footsteps on the platform.
The moment Eugene appeared on the dais—
"WAAAAAAAAH!!!"
A roar went up that shook the ground itself.
Eugene! Eugene! Eugene!
Viva el Presidente!
Eugene waved, bearing up under the enormous pressure of it.
It was this intense...
He felt, all over again, the full weight of the support the people were sending him.
"My fellow citizens!"
His voice rang out, vast and resonant, carried by enormous speakers across the entire city. In that instant, as if a switch had been thrown, the roar of a million people cut off. In a silence so complete that even breathing seemed to vanish, millions of eyes locked onto Eugene.
"These past three years, we have made a miracle. The gunfire has stopped. The laughter of children has filled our schools. Bread and meat have returned to our tables. But!"
He clenched his fist.
"I am not satisfied with this!"
"......!"
"We have escaped hunger. But now is the time to dream of living well. I, Eugene, make you this promise. Within the next seven years, I will make San Marcos the pearl of South America!"
One by one, he laid out the blueprint he had prepared.
"To that end, I will revive our secondary industries. We will raise factories across this land. Automobiles, electronics, textiles... products stamped Made in San Marcos will be sold to the entire world. And those products will become your jobs!"
The eyes of the crowd sparkled with expectation.
"I will also end the tragedy of people who cannot go to a hospital for lack of money, who watch a small illness grow into a great one! We will build hospitals and reform the medical system, so that the state takes responsibility for the health of its people!"
"Hhhk— His Excellency has been worrying about us this much all along!"
"Your Excellency! Your Excellency! Your Excellency! Your Excellency!"
"Eugene Choi! Eugene Choi! Eugene Choi! Eugene Choi!"
Cheers mixed with the sound of people weeping rose from every corner of the square.
"And lastly, I will revitalize the private economy! We will lower the barriers to the banks, abolish regulations, and support new businesses, so that anyone who works hard can become rich in this country."
Eugene swallowed and raised his voice.
"A great nation where everyone eats well and lives well! I, Eugene, will make it happen. I ask you — trust me, and leave it in my hands!"
When the speech ended, the square exploded once more.
"WAAAAAAAAH—!"
Cheers that seemed to pierce the sky, flower petals scattering on the wind, and citizens in a frenzy of joy. Eugene raised his hand in answer to their roar, and thought:
Alright. If it's come to this... let's give it a shot.
That day, Libertad Square burned hotter than it ever had before.