In the days after the primary, Pittsburgh fell into a strange political vacuum.
On paper, Martin Carter Wright was still the city’s Mayor.
His term would last until the end of the year, his na was still printed on the letterhead of every docunt from City Hall, and his portrait still hung in the hallways of various governnt departnts.
But in reality, ever since leaving through the back door on that rainy night, Carter Wright had not set foot in the Mayor’s Office again.
The City Hall staff ca to work as usual every day, clocking in, drinking coffee, and processing the endless stream of trivial paperwork.
But everyone knew in their hearts that the largest office on the third floor was now empty.
Although Carter Wright was still symbolically handling official business elsewhere, the central nervous system of power had stopped pulsing. The enormous bureaucratic machine was like a colossal ship that had lost its engine, drifting on the water on sheer montum alone.
The general election that followed in November beca a foregone conclusion, a re formality.
In this deep-blue industrial city, the Republican Party had symbolically nominated a candidate nad Thomas.
He was a respectable businessman who ran two car dealerships. His most aggressive campaign move was posting a few photos of himself and his family eating steak on X, with the caption, "Let’s bring reason back to Pittsburgh."
Mr. Thomas knew his role perfectly.
He wasn’t there to fight a war; he was there to fill a spot.
In the grand drama of democracy, he was the supporting actor standing in the corner, responsible for proving that "competition still exists."
Leo didn’t even hold a single large rally for the general election.
He didn’t need to.
The landslide victory in the primary had already exhausted all the city’s political passion and established an unshakeable new order.
On Election Day, Leo simply posted a photo of himself drinking coffee at a construction site on his social dia account.
The results ca in.
Seventy-two percent.
It was a dominant figure in Pittsburgh’s electoral history.
Leo Wallace, with a clean sweep, had crushed his barely-there Republican opponent and officially beco the Mayor-elect of Pittsburgh City.
Everyone knew this was just the final legal procedure.
The real show would begin in two months.
「January third.」
Pittsburgh was experiencing its coldest day of the year.
A frigid wind blew off the frozen Monongahela River, cutting at people’s faces like a knife.
The sky was a leaden gray. Fine pellets of snow mixed with the wind, making a rustling sound as they hit people’s overcoats.
Grant Street, in front of City Hall, was cordoned off.
Tens of thousands of citizens had flooded the streets.
They wore thick down jackets and scarves printed with the na "Wallace."
Among them were steelworkers, university professors, African-Arican barbers, Latino custodians, young students, and retired veterans leaning on canes.
They huddled together, enduring the bitter cold.
Because they were here to witness a mont.
A red carpet had been laid out on the marble steps of City Hall.
Leo Wallace wore a black wool overcoat over a well-tailored dark suit.
His left hand rested on a heavy, worn book.
It was not the Bible.
For this solemn mont, he had chosen a book of greater personal significance—a copy of *Franklin D. Roosevelt: A Life* that he had read countless tis in college, its margins filled with his notes.
A judge stood opposite him, solemnly reciting the oath of office.
"I, Leo Wallace, do solemnly swear..."
Leo’s voice carried clearly through the microphones to every corner of the square.
"That I will faithfully execute the office of Mayor of Pittsburgh City, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of Pennsylvania..."
Behind that solemn voice, in the front row of the viewing stand...
Frank Kovalsky, wearing the suit he never wanted to put on, was crying like a child.
This tough man, who hadn’t so much as blinked when facing the batons of riot police on the picket line, now let tears stream down his wrinkled cheeks and drip onto his garishly patterned tie.
Sarah stood next to Frank, tightly gripping two phones. A constant stream of instructions for security and dia coordination fed into her earpiece.
Her eyes were bloodshot, the result of not having slept for three consecutive days.
She was checking every procedure, confirming every cara angle, ensuring this mont was absolutely perfect.
Ethan Hawke stood further back, holding a thick folder.
Inside were the drafts of the first batch of executive orders Leo would need to sign in the coming week.
He hadn’t booked a return ticket.
Last night, he had received a call on his cell phone from Senator Sanders.
The order was brief: stay.
Washington didn’t need another staffer to write papers, but Pittsburgh needed an executive who could truly implent the Progressives’ ideals on the ground.
Sanders wanted him to keep an eye on Leo, and more importantly, to keep an eye on this ’showcase,’ ensuring that every brick here was laid according to their blueprint.
"...and may God bless Pittsburgh."
Leo finished the last line of the oath.
He lifted his hand from the book and looked out at the crowd below.
In that instant, a cheer erupted like a volcano.
Tens of thousands of arms waved in the cold wind, and tens of thousands of faces flushed with excitent.
User Comments
0 comments from readers