Reform.
Every time I utter those two syllables, a dull ache throbs in my skull.
I know all too well what became of the lumbering bears of the Soviet Union when they let that word run wild. I know the cost of their folly.
What was it that Gorbachev called it?
Ah, yes.
Perestroika—Restructuring.
On the surface, it sounded grand, even tectonic. Restructuring! What an evocative, hopeful term.
It sounds remarkably like the promise to redevelop the crumbling, decades-old concrete 'chicken coop' apartments in my beloved, magnificent, yet precarious Seoul!
But the reality was as foul as rotting fish.
He claimed he would liberalize information and unshackle the press—yet he only did so halfway, leaving the state in a precarious limbo. Simultaneously, he antagonized both the pathetic, stagnant conservative military brass and the radicalized youth, splitting the nation down the middle.
The result?
The Soviet Union didn't just teeter on the edge of a shambles; it became a full-blown catastrophe. It wasn't a reform; it was state-mandated self-destruction.
Of course, compared to the three-course meal of ruin served by that drunkard Yeltsin—the total evaporation of the Russian economy, the collapse of the military, and the disintegration of democracy—Gorbachev was a saint. Nevertheless, the fact remains: that reform was an unmitigated disaster.
But the reason I cannot find it in myself to laugh is that I must now undertake the exact same task with my own hands.
What was that communist role-playing game? Tropico? It feels like being a complete novice forced to navigate the Modern Era with a bankrupt treasury.
Regardless, I have drafted the contents of what this reform shall be.
The logic I have devised is simple.
We must radically expand the Supreme Soviet.
The farms, the factories, the committees, the councils—all of them must be granted more seats, more suffrage, more weight.
Unlike the Soviet playground where a handful of elite apparatchiks in the Politburo hoarded everything, we must build a true People's Representative Assembly. And no, I don't mean that farcical imitation created by those Chinese traitors to the ideology.
Elections to clear the slate every two years?
Fine. It is infinitely better than allowing a ruling class to sit until they rot into stagnant water.
And if we add seats proportional to population for every new member state that joins the union, it would be nothing short of perfection.
The problem is that once I unveil this reform, the public reaction will be one of two extremes.
There will be those who cheer, shouting, "Finally, true Socialism has arrived!"
Then there will be those who gnash their teeth, hissing, "This is not the Socialism I signed up for!"
My honest feelings? I am terrified.
Who knows if this gambit will succeed, or if we will merely be recorded in the history books as 'Failed Socialist Experiment No. 132'?
But if we do nothing? We slide down the same wretched path as my previous world. We must not head toward a scorched-earth federation like the USSR, nor a state-capitalist monstrosity like China.
Therefore, there is only one choice. We must proceed, even if our hands tremble.
And I have made one solemn vow.
I will not be another Gorbachev.
I will not loudmouth about 'reforms' while the people starve and the commissars' bellies grow fat. The reform I write must, at the very least, be one that gives the people a reason to smile.
Now comes the time for the mind-numbing preparation for the council.
The fancy title, 'Perestroika'—ominous as it is due to its history of failure, though it possesses a certain revolutionary flair—is already attached. All that remains is for me to live up to the name.
Isn't it ironic? I am dredging up the very name under which the Soviet Union collapsed.
But what of it? I am not the balding Mikhail Gorbachev; I am Vladimir Park—blessed with a full head of hair—and this is not Earth. This is Terra.
Just because the USSR ended in a heap of ash doesn't mean we are predestined for the same fate.
Today, I roll the dice once more. Only whatever god sent me to this place knows where they will land.
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The word 'Reform' always wears two masks.
To the people, it looks like a beacon of hope; to the entrenched masters of the status quo, it feels like the cold edge of a blade.
The agenda currently in my hands—the restructuring of the Supreme Soviet, the expansion of seats, periodic re-elections, and proportional representation for new member states—it all depends on me whether this becomes a sacred promise to the masses or just another sleight of hand.
I know this. That is why my heart feels heavy.
The peasants say: "We fought a revolution, but in the end, the city folk took everything for themselves."
The factory workers say: "Meetings are held every day, but the words we speak vanish into thin air by morning."
The soldiers say: "We risked our lives, so why is it only the officers who live well?"
To truly hear these voices, we must increase the seats, empower the soviets, and refresh the leadership constantly. Stagnant water only breeds a foul stench when left behind a dam.
Naturally, there will be opposition.
"The nation will falter!"
"How can we hold elections when the Global Revolution is incomplete?!"
"To dismantle the authority of the leadership is to invite nothing but chaos!"
True. They are right. Chaos will grow. But if we concentrate power into the hands of the few just to avoid that chaos? That is a far darker road.
I would rather spend a hundred years in the mists of trial and error than watch the people be rendered mute once again under a system built in the name of the Revolution.
There are several pillars I must protect in this reform.
First, the drastic expansion of the Supreme Soviet's membership.
Second, the total reshuffling of those seats every two years.
Third, ensuring that people in new member nations—such as the Columbian Soviet Socialist Republic—have a voice equal to their population.
Fourth, creating dedicated representation for the Infected and the Sarkaz migrant communities. A revolution collapses the moment the weak and the marginalized are the first to be abandoned. We will not be like the Soviets, who massacred Georgian and Kazakh nationalists to appease Slavic chauvinism.
And finally.
We will maintain the Political Commissar system, but we shall turn their power from the sword to the pen. The military must not be the 'Hounds of the Party,' but the 'Eyes and Ears of the People.'
I am under no illusions. When I push this through, a firestorm of condemnation will erupt from within the Party, the military, and even among my own loyalists. Some will call me a fool for dismantling the very monolithic power structure I created.
So be it. If that becomes my epitaph, I will bear it, provided the people can finally smile. Today, I shall introduce this motion in the halls of the Supreme Soviet.
I will stand upon that podium and declare: "Comrades, we must listen to more voices. The Revolution is not the property of the few. The Revolution belongs to everyone."
In that moment, some will applaud, while others will scowl. I will meet every gaze. Why? Because I want the people to live as the heroes of the Revolution, not its slaves. I want to be remembered as a witness to the Revolution, not its failure. That is the raison d'être of my communism.
I set my feet in motion once more.
**************************************
The air in the plenary chamber of the Supreme Soviet is always heavy, but today it felt oppressive. Standing at the podium, I tapped my fingertips against a thick manila folder, catching my breath.
On both sides of the hall sat the delegates of the member states—though presently it was only Columbia and Victoria—the heads of the various Commissariats, and the generals of the Red Army. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on me.
In this room, even a soft cough or the rustle of paper echoes like a rolling stone. In short, this is not a place for trivialities.
I had tried to crack a few jokes in the past to lighten the mood, but they were usually buried by stern, humorless stares. Even Alexandra, sitting there in her wheelchair, looked dead serious. Honestly, I thought they were funny!
But today, I needed to foster a different atmosphere. Communism has never failed. This was the sentence looping in my mind.
As I've said before, many would retort: "What nonsense is that? Communism collapsed." But I can offer my conviction once more: Communism was never truly attempted in good faith.
The tragedy was that those who claimed to lead for the people were merely elites clutching onto power and privilege, leaving the 'People' as nothing more than decorative slogans. To claim "Communism failed" after that is like a tavern selling water in vodka bottles, and when the customer complains that it doesn't taste like alcohol, the owner insists, "Sir, alcohol is supposed to taste like nothing."
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