"We’re on a tight schedule, Ethan."
Leo sat back down in his chair.
"Every day of shutdown burns money. At this stage, efficiency trumps everything. Throw them a bone, get them to shut up, and get the machines running again."
Ethan sighed and walked out with the docunts.
The mont the door closed, the calm in Leo’s eyes vanished, replaced by a profound and sinister darkness.
He was tired of this endless exchange of favors, tired of having to feed this pack of greedy pigs before he could ever get anything substantial done.
He wanted absolute control.
"It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it?"
Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.
"You have five hundred million US Dollars in your hands, you hold the highest executive power, and yet you still have to answer to those nine clowns."
’Yes, Mr. President,’ Leo admitted internally. ’I want to get rid of all of them. I want this city to have only one voice: mine.’
"Dictatorship."
Roosevelt uttered the word.
In the modern political context, it was a dirty word, a synonym for tyranny.
But from Roosevelt’s lips, the word sounded like a neutral tool, even carrying a hint of sacredness.
"Leo, have you ever heard of the Philosopher King?"
Roosevelt said slowly.
"Plato believed that the best form of governnt is one where a philosopher, possessing the highest wisdom and morality, exercises absolute power."
"In tis of crisis, democracy often ans inefficiency. It ans squabbling. It ans missing opportunities in this ever-changing world."
"When the floodwaters are rising, you don’t need a committee to vote on who gets on the boat first. You need a captain—soone who can give the order and cut the mooring lines in an instant."
"That is the logic of the Philosopher King."
"As long as you can guarantee that you are that best leader, as long as your goal is the well-being of the majority."
"Then dictatorship... is the most efficient form of good governance."
Leo’s heart gave a violent thud.
His rational mind told him this was exactly what he craved most right now.
’Mr. President, with all due respect, isn’t that what you did back in your day?’
Leo looked at the giant in the wheelchair within his mind, his eyes filled with unconcealed adoration and fervor.
’You broke with tradition. You served four terms. You bypassed Congress, and you even tried to pack the Supre Court. In that era of crisis, you were the Philosopher King of the United States.’
’You dragged this country out of the mire and lifted it to unprecedented heights.’
’I want to achieve that. And I must.’
’Pittsburgh can’t wait, and neither can I. I need that kind of power—the power to ignore the noise and forcibly turn the tide.’
But then, just as quickly, the fervor cooled for a mont.
It was awe in the face of absolute power, and even a primal fear.
’But, Mr. President, I’m afraid.’
Leo’s voice beca low, laced with a slight tremble.
’Power corrupts.’
’If I really tear down all the guardrails, if I really make this vehicle obey only my commands...’
’If I lose all checks and balances, will I beco the next Carter Wright? Or a tyrant like Morganfield, devouring everything for my own selfish desires?’
"That will depend on what’s in your heart."
Roosevelt’s voice beca solemn.
"I will be watching you, Leo. I will live inside your head and watch your every thought."
"I won’t let you go astray."
"You will be this city’s guardian, a shepherd holding a sharpened sword."
Leo was silent for a long ti.
He looked up at the administrative map of Pittsburgh on the wall.
The nine electoral districts, like nine puzzle pieces, divided the city’s power.
"Alright."
Leo’s gaze beca resolute, even revealing a hint of coldness.
’I’m going to take control of the city council.’
’I won’t just make them pass my budget. I’ll make them an extension of my will for all ti to co.’
’I’ll make it so they won’t even breathe without my say-so.’
’Tell , Mr. President, what should I do?’
"It’s difficult, Leo. In this country’s political design, the city council exists for the sole purpose of getting in the Mayor’s way. Trying to change that structure is tantamount to anding the Constitution."
"Of course, you can’t dissolve the council, nor can you and the Constitution tomorrow. You can only operate within the existing frawork."
Roosevelt paused, then continued, "There are three paths before you."
"The first path is a purge."
"You can use your current popularity, and the funds at your disposal, to back your own proxies in these nine districts during the next city council election."
"You can pick nine obedient young people, give them campaign funds, endorse them, and have them vote out old-tirs like Moretti, Stone, and Rossi."
Leo stared at the first district on the map.
If he could replace Moretti with one of his own people—even if it was just a nodding bobblehead—life would be much easier.
"But this not only takes ti, it also offers a terrible return on investnt," Roosevelt said.
"Elections are a gamble, and the mood of the electorate is as fickle as the wind."
"Your approval rating might be seventy-two percent today, but tomorrow it could drop to thirty percent because so damn streetlight wasn’t fixed."
"Besides, every district is different. Moretti has been running his district for years. If you want to parachute in a newcor to defeat him, it would require a massive investnt of resources, and the odds of winning would be low."
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