The skies over Philadelphia still cast the long, weary shadow of war.
Bullet scars left by the Victorian Governor-General's forces and the Independence Army remained etched into the outer walls of the government office. Beside the stone steps, jagged fragments of artillery shells, yet to be cleared, glinted coldly in the light.
On the streets, gazes flickering with hope for a new era collided with eyes wide with the dread of a renewed civil war.
Children ran through the alleys clutching red and blue cloths in each hand. Merchants were busy hawking revolutionary badges that read, 'I am a Communist,' but even behind their smiles, a lingering unease permeated the air.
Inside the government building, within a conference hall flanked by marble pillars, two flags hung side by side.
One was a crimson banner emblazoned with the hammer and the gear; the other was a sky-blue flag representing liberty and parliament. From the moment they entered the hall, the suffocating atmosphere of tension weighed heavily upon the delegates.
Earl Browder, Secretary of the Columbian Communist Party, opened the floor in a low, gravelly voice.
"Comrades who led the Columbian Revolutionary War, the future of Columbia must be determined by the people themselves. That decision must be made through the Soviet method—or, to use the Victorian tongue, through the consensus of the councils."
Beside him, Selene Maylander responded with chilling composure.
"What we bled for was liberty. A council devoid of liberty is merely a dictatorship by a new name—a mere repetition of Victorian oppression. If the rights of parliament, the press, and the citizenry are not guaranteed, we will resist until the bitter end."
A stir of agitation rippled through the hall.
A young Communist representative stood up, his voice rising in anger.
"The traitors who relied on the scraps of support from the Gaulish Empire's aristocrats have much to say! The liberty you speak of is nothing more than a freedom that begs for the mercy of nobles and the bourgeoisie!"
Countering this, an individual from Maylander's camp, a former lawyer, slammed his fist onto the table as he rose.
"And how are you any different from the bureaucracy of the Victorian Governor-General? You have changed nothing but the name! You are nothing more than another manifestation of centralized violence!"
"Have you even bothered to read the Soviet Constitution before opening your mouth?"
"You're openly admitting you're traitors selling the country to the UTSSR! And what guarantee do we have that the words written in that constitution will be upheld?"
"What did you say, you bastard?!"
Just as the exchange reached a razor's edge, a metallic, clinical voice resonated through the chamber.
"Liberty and equality are not mutually exclusive."
Every head turned toward a figure seated in a crisp military uniform. It was a bird.
Unlike a Liberi, it was truly the image of a literal bird.
Maylander had introduced him as Mark Max.
"The system is merely a matter of optimization. The variable is the people's acceptance; stability depends on the structural flexibility. The solution already exists."
The chamber froze.
It was a statement that pricked the pride of the politicians, yet because it was the very conclusion they had been awaiting—but refused to voice out of vanity and self-interest—no one could bring themselves to refute it.
After a heavy silence, Browder looked up.
"...Very well. Columbia must become one, by any means necessary. United we survive; divided we perish."
Maylander also took a steadying breath and spoke.
"So long as we do not lose our liberty, we shall not refuse integration. Provided that the rights to private property and enterprise are guaranteed."
The debate, which lasted late into the night, eventually culminated in a single document of agreement.
**********************************************
The Philadelphia Accord
October 14, 1017
General Secretary Earl Browder, representing Eastern Columbia, and Chairperson Selene Maylander, representing Western Columbia, based on the unified will of both peoples and the duty toward the World Revolution, hereby agree on the course for a new Columbia following its liberation from colonial rule.
Accordingly, the provisions of this accord are as follows:
Article 1: Name and Capital
The newly established state shall be known as the Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic (CSSR).
The capital shall be Philadelphia.
Article 2: Political System
The Republic shall hold the duty of building a Communist world.
No political party may be dissolved by state power, and all parties shall have the right to participate in the Supreme Soviet upon receiving the support of the people.
Article 3: Local Autonomy
The Republic shall be federal in nature, with each state and locality guaranteed independent autonomy.
In particular, each locality holds the right to establish and implement unique economic policies.
These may run contrary to the policies of the central government.
Article 4: Status of Political Parties
The founding of the Columbian Liberty Party, as the successor to the Western independence forces, is legally recognized.
All other political forces also hold the right to operate freely so long as they comply with democratic procedures and the Constitution.
Article 5: Military Integration
The armed organizations of both sides shall be unified into the National Revolutionary Army.
The unified military shall adopt the Soviet system of Soldiers' Councils and shall be subject to democratic control.
Article 6: Foreign Relations
The Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic shall formally join the Union of Terra Soviet Socialist Republics (UTSSR).
The Republic shall join the cause of the International Revolution and pledges solidarity and support for the liberation movements of other peoples.
Article 7: Entry into Force
This accord shall enter into force immediately upon the signature of the representatives of both parties.
Signatories:
Representing the People of Eastern Columbia,
Earl Browder, General Secretary of the Columbian Communist Party
Representing the People of Western Columbia,
Selene Maylander, President of the Provisional Government of Columbia
***********************************************
The crimson flags draped across marble pillars pressed down heavily upon the windless air near the ceiling.
The vast, semi-circular hall had been filled with the breath of men since morning.
Before three hundred delegates—their ranks recently filled through by-elections—dozens of agendas had been tabled, but only one held the undivided attention of the assembly.
Today was the day of the vote on whether to admit the Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic into the Union.
I sat in the Chairman's seat upon the dais, observing the scene.
The gavel of the Supreme Soviet rested before me. It did not feel like a mere block of wood; it felt like a weapon imbued with the weight of countless lives, sweat, and blood.
In a way, that gavel also felt like a decoration awarded for my past labors.
The clerk read the agenda.
"We shall now proceed with a show of hands to determine the approval of the formal admission of the Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic into the Union."
A brief silence fell.
But soon, from every section, the hands of the delegates were raised one after another.
A few peasant delegates hesitated briefly, perhaps worried about the import of Columbian agricultural products, before raising their hands. The worker delegates, elected from factories and unions, exchanged looks before thrusting their hands high with fervor.
The hall suddenly became a spectacle.
A multitude of hands formed a rising tide.
I watched the scene and let out a long breath.
Not a single soul opposed.
The clerk looked up and nodded toward me.
I lifted the gavel and struck it slowly.
Three strikes echoed off the marble walls.
"I hereby declare. As of this moment, the Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic is a member of the Union."
In an instant, the chamber surged like a massive wave.
Some delegates wiped away tears; others threw their arms open to embrace their neighbors.
Delegates from the People's Commissariat of Defense, like Laman, tried to maintain stone-faced expressions, but the slight trembling at the corners of their eyes spoke for their emotions.
The revolution had finally been exported.
Though it may have begun in Columbia, the delegates who firmly believed that Victoria—the birthplace of the first Communist Party—was the heart of the revolution, saw this as the ultimate triumph of their struggle.
I watched from the Chairman's seat.
The revolution that had flared up across the sea had now come under the banner of the Union, beneath the hammer and sickle.
At that moment, the long-dormant weight in my chest seemed to lighten, if only slightly.
A sense akin to exhilaration washed over me.
"Polygamy and polyandry must both be permitted!"
"You woman-crazed lunatic!"
"Communism must destroy traditional-reactionary family views and respect individual liberty! These aren't concubines, they are wives and husbands! What is the issue? Anyone who denies this is nothing but a reactionary, conservative feudalist!"
"Stop the bickering and settle it with a vote, you morons! My ears are ringing!"
"144 in favor, 141 against, 14 abstentions, 1 invalid. I declare the legalization of polyandry and polygamy passed!"
"You insane lunatics of the Liberty League!!"
"Get out of here, you conservatives who lost the vote!"
After that, various other agendas were traded back and forth, with approvals and rejections following in rapid succession.
As the session ended, the delegates filed out of the hall in small groups.
Tangled languages, laughter, hugs, shouts, and lingering anger remained in the hall, but I headed straight for the breakroom.
In the breakroom, Wrangel, Pyotr, and Maxim had already gathered. They stood as they saw me.
Wrangel spoke first.
"Columbia is finally in the Union's embrace. This calls for a toast. However..."
He paused, tapping his cigarette case.
"...Foreign affairs might catch a breath now. The problem is internal."
I nodded.
He was correct.
Pyotr placed a thick folder onto the table.
"We must reform the army and the Soldiers' Soviets again. Too many inadequacies were exposed in this war. The education reform bills are piled as high as a mountain. Victorian is so simple a tongue, yet how is it that the majority of the population can barely read simple words? It's absurd."
With a pencil tucked behind his ear, he looked at me with the eyes of an old man burdened by reality.
Maxim added in a heavy voice,
"Our medical supplies are bottoming out. Wounded soldiers returning from the front are overflowing in every hospital, but our blood supplies have dried up like sand. Nurses are barely keeping critical patients alive by injecting saline into syringes. Because medical equipment and pharmaceutical factories were concentrated in Southern Victoria, even with the remaining factories running at maximum capacity, the shortage is catastrophic."
I listened to them in silence.
This was the reason why the taste of victory did not feel entirely sweet.
The end of war was not the end; it was the start of a new struggle.
"I know what you all want to say," I said, meeting each of their gazes.
"From now on, the real fight begins. We won't be fighting an enemy with swords and rifles, but hunger, ignorance, disease, and counter-revolution."
The room fell quiet. The weight resting on each of their shoulders had been made clear.
I stepped toward the window.
Outside, the lingering light of autumn remained.
Sunlight piercing through the clouds stained the red flags of the conference hall with an even deeper hue.
While the revolution's external security was stabilized, the ground beneath our feet that sustained the system was still unstable.
The economy stood amidst ruins. More than half the railways were destroyed, and factories that had been churning out guns and shells throughout the war could no longer produce their original goods. We had to restore the peacetime production system. We had to establish a Five-Year Plan for post-war reconstruction.
The social issues were even more complex.
Soldiers returning from the battlefield had to go back to the farms and factories.
But the shadow of war still loomed in their hearts.
If we did not act swiftly, orphans, refugees, and the disabled would wander the streets, and bread lines would stretch endlessly at the distribution centers.
People would celebrate the victory of the revolution, yet fear whether they would have bread tomorrow. Ultimately, their faith in the revolution would shatter.
The political balance was no easier.
The Liberty League, the Social Revolutionary Workers' League, the Alliance for Hopeful Progress, the Centrists.
And even the Columbian Liberty Party and independent socialist forces of other nations.
Each faction raised its voice higher than the last.
It was true they all desired the revolution, but their interpretations varied wildly.
They gathered to sing the chorus of the World Revolution.
Yet, a chorus can collapse into discord at any moment.
Thus, my duty was to weave their voices into a single, perfect symphony.
Military issues also remained.
With the war effectively over, the debate over how to reorganize the Red Army and the extent of the Soldiers' Soviets' authority was bound to intensify.
Alexandra and Laman, who held the reins of the military, and Maxim and Wrangel, who had deep roots in the field hospitals and worker militias, remained quiet. However, some within the military called for a reduction in the power of the Soldiers' Soviets, while idealists in parliament argued for their expansion.
Choosing only one side would inevitably lead to a split.
I let out a sigh.
It is harder to light the fire of peace and progress than it is to extinguish the flames of war.
Outside, the flags billowed in the wind.
It was as if they were silently mocking the heavy burden upon my shoulders.
Yet at the same time, the flags seemed to speak to me.
Telling me that we had not yet fallen.
Telling me that the revolution would never end.
I closed my eyes.
The echo of the gavel rang in my ears once more.
Now, it was time for the overwork to begin anew.