The next day, Ethan Hawke pushed a whiteboard to the center of the Mayor’s Office.

On the whiteboard were nine photos, held in place by black magnets and arranged in two rows.

Below each photo, a name, district number, and a short note were written with a marker.

Leo sat in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the faces.

He’d seen most of them on the news. He’d met some backstage at the campaign debates, while others were complete strangers.

But for the next four years, these nine people would decide his fate as mayor.

Roosevelt’s voice sounded.

’We won on the streets, we won at the ballot box, and we even sent Carter Wright packing back home.’

’But if you want to pass the budget, if you want to push for the second phase of your revitalization plan, you have to get past this hurdle.’

’The Pittsburgh City Council.’

’In there, your mayoral executive orders are just worthless paper, unless you can get to that magic number.’

Ethan wrote a large number at the top of the whiteboard: 5.

"Nine council members, one vote each. You need five votes—a simple majority."

"Get five votes, and you’re the Caesar of this city. Don’t get them, and you’re just a mascot who signs papers and collects a paycheck in his office."

Leo looked at the number.

5.

It sounded so small, so easy.

But when he shifted his gaze to the photos, the number became as heavy as a mountain.

Ethan began to break down the nine "local tyrants" entrenched in every corner of the city.

"The current situation is 3 to 2 to 4."

Ethan drew two vertical lines on the whiteboard, dividing the nine photos into three groups.

"First, this group. Your opposition. If you want these three votes, you’ll have to pay a considerable price."

The tip of Ethan’s pen pointed to the first photo. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The photo showed a white man in his fifties, his hair slicked back, wearing an expensive custom-tailored suit, with the shrewdness of a businessman in his eyes.

"Gavin Stone. Council member for the second district, representing the downtown commercial area and the ultra-wealthy Squirrel Hill District."

"He’s Morganfield’s direct agent on the council and a staunch defender of the Chamber of Commerce’s interests. He opposes all forms of tax increases and any regulations that might affect the business climate."

"To him, your ’Revitalization Plan’ is a socialist manifesto for robbing the rich."

Ethan’s pen moved to the second photo.

It was a middle-aged woman with short hair and glasses. She had a severe expression, the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Linda Rossi, council member for the fifth district."

"She is a political ally of Carter Wright. Even though Carter Wright is gone, the old bureaucratic system he left behind—and the contractors who live off city contracts—have now rallied under her banner."

Finally, Ethan pointed to the third photo.

A burly man with a thick neck and a fleshy, brutish face.

"Pete Miller. Council member for the ninth district, representing the conservative white communities on the city’s outskirts, as well as the police union."

Leo looked at the face. It seemed familiar.

"Is he related to Dave Miller, the former police chief who Carter Wright sent to prison?" Leo asked.

"Distant cousins," Ethan answered. "They also both came up in the same Irish-American police club. Your confrontation with the police force in the city hall plaza didn’t exactly endear you to him."

Leo looked at the three faces.

They were solid rock, without a single crack.

Ethan’s pen moved to the other side, where there were only two photos.

"This is our base, our staunchest allies. These two votes are solid."

The first was a young African-American woman with a determined gaze and her hair in dreadlocks.

"Aisha Williams. Council member for the third district, representing the Hill District. She’s a young Progressive who, like you, came up through grassroots mobilization. Your speech in the Hill District was a huge help to her, and she’ll support your revitalization plan."

The second was a Jewish man with thick-rimmed glasses and curly hair.

"Benji Cohen. Council member for the fourth district, representing Oakland, the university district. He’s a political science professor at the University of Pittsburgh, a radical left-wing intellectual, and a natural ally of the Sanders faction."

"He can be a bit of an academic, but on matters of principle, he’ll stand with us."

Ethan drew a large circle around the remaining four photos.

"This is the crux of the problem, Leo."

"The centrists. The swing votes. The fence-sitters."

"These four don’t have a firm ideology. They don’t answer completely to Morganfield, but they don’t fully trust us either."

"They only care about one thing: their interests."

"These are also the four votes that will decide the outcome."

’Interesting.’

Roosevelt’s voice rang out in Leo’s mind.

’Nine people, nine different agendas. Each one guarding their own little fiefdom, each one treating the vote in their hand like the most dazzling jewel in a crown.’

It was as if Roosevelt were looking through Leo’s eyes, re-examining the unfamiliar faces on the whiteboard, just as he had once scrutinized the stubborn Supreme Court justices.

’This is the most ingenious and also the most brutal design of American politics, Leo.’

’Power is divided, checked, and locked within a series of interlocking gears. Anyone who tries to turn this machine too quickly risks having their fingers snapped off by those gears.’

’You need to bring them together—to forcibly assemble these scattered gears into your war chariot.’