In the end, he picked up a crumpled piece of paper.
Everyone held their breath, hearts almost in their throats. The air was filled only with the silent swirls of cigar smoke.
The paper ball was slowly unwrapped. Mr. Segood squinted at it for several seconds, then he looked up, with an almost pitying gaze, at the man sitting at the end of the long table, trying to minimize his presence—the chairman of the House Procedure Committee, a congressman from a swing state in the Midwest, Harold Wilkes.
"God has made His choice." Mr. Segood's voice was hoarse yet calm, "Harold Wilkes."
"Oh, Jesus F**king Christ... NO!!!"
Harold Wilkes seed drained of all strength. His Wilkes family, though considered a local political family, could only be deed second-tier in the presence of the big shots here. He himself was known for being cautious and adept at compromise and diation, never expecting or willing to be thrust into the spotlight at such a ti.
The eting room was filled with a complex mix of noises—slight sighs of relief, barely restrained, almost gloating chuckles, and a few insincere congratulations.
"Harold, this is the call of the nation..."
"The glorious mont of the Wilkes family..."
"We will fully support you, Mr. President."
At this mont, the words "Mr. President" sounded like the most vicious curse. Harold Wilkes covered his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly, uncertain whether he was crying or struggling to restrain himself from swearing.
He had no choice. At this level of political maneuvering, the result of drawing lots was an ironclad rule.
Back out? That would an being abandoned by all the families, possibly ending up worse off than being this puppet President.
"Well... alright." Harold finally raised his head, his face pale, eyes vacant, "For Arica."
These words were said weakly, even he didn't believe them.
The subsequent proceedings were astonishingly quick.
As if fearing he would back out or so other mishap would occur, Congress convened a joint eting at record speed. During the eting, mbers of both parties demonstrated unprecedented "unity," unanimously "imploring" and "supporting" the reputable Congressman Wilkes to "reluctantly" assu the position of Temporary President of the United States, as per the relevant sections of the Presidential Succession Act, until the next election or the crisis is resolved.
Push you onto the stage!!
Harold Wilkes, in this almost farcical and coercive atmosphere, stood on Capitol Hill, left hand on the Bible, right hand tremblingly raised, taking the oath of office before the Chief Justice.
Hmm, the Chief Justice's expression also looked like he'd swallowed a fly.
The oath was recited haltingly, without any montum.
When he said, "So help God," his voice was as thin as a thread, as if even he didn't believe God would lend a hand.
Flashbulbs went off wildly, capturing this historic mont. Below the stage, the expressions of the applauding Congress mbers were complicated, so expressionless, so with wandering eyes, and so even with a hint of mocking enjoynt.
After the hasty ceremony, the most reluctant "lottery President" in U.S. history, Harold Wilkes, almost fled the venue.
According to his personal assistant, the first thing Mr. President did upon returning to the temporary office was rush into the bathroom and vomit violently.
But what he didn't know was that once inside, Harold Wilkes made a phone call to soone in Canada using a cell phone.
...
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