"Does he really care if people are Black or White? All he cares about is tearing society apart to profit from the chaos. Political parties are no different. They’re just colors used to mobilize voters and distinguish friend from foe. At the highest level of power, only interests are eternal."

"That’s because you could afford to ignore the parties."

Leo retorted.

"Because you’re Franklin Roosevelt. In that unique era, you practically controlled the will of the entire nation. You could appoint Republicans to your cabinet and push legislation across party lines, and no one would dare say a word."

"Because you were the one making the rules."

"But I’m not."

Leo pointed at his chest.

"I’m just the Mayor of Pittsburgh. If I go to Warren, if I sit down with a powerhouse in the Republican Party and someone snaps a picture, I’m finished. Sanders would abandon me in a heartbeat, and my voters would think I’d betrayed my principles."

"And besides, there’s an even more practical problem."

Leo continued to pace around the room.

"Let’s say we do go to Warren, and he does help us. He helps us get through the administrative review. What then?"

"What about selling the bonds? Are we supposed to expect Warren to help us pitch Progressive bonds to Wall Street? That’s laughable."

"We’d be drinking poison to quench our thirst."

Roosevelt was silent for a moment.

"I have other ways," Roosevelt said. "As long as we can get this first step done, I’ll teach you how to handle the rest. As for the money, we can..."

"Sell off more things?"

Leo interrupted him.

He walked to the window, looking out at the brilliant Washington nightscape.

"I’m a politician, I admit it. These past few months, I’ve learned to compromise, I’ve learned to make deals. For Pittsburgh’s revival, I can sell the port to Morganfield. I can carve off a piece of my soul."

"But, Mr. President."

"Haven’t we sold off too much?"

"The port, franchise rights, the land... and now our political principles on top of it all. What will we have left? Besides the empty title of ’Mayor,’ what do we hold that still truly belongs to the people?"

"Leo."

Roosevelt’s voice grew stern.

"Pittsburgh is just a springboard."

"You must understand this. The city, the mayorship, even that five-hundred-million US Dollar bond—they are all just stepping stones to a higher office."

"Your current struggles, your present pain... it’s all because your position is too low."

"Only when you’ve reached a high enough position, when you hold enough power, can you truly help a greater number of people."

"For the sake of that ultimate goal, any sacrifice along the way is worth it."

"A springboard?"

Leo turned, his back pressed against the cold glass of the window.

"But... weren’t you the one who taught me from the very beginning? To never forget that feeling."

"’Don’t forget the people queuing in the rain. Don’t forget the look of hope in their eyes.’"

"I haven’t forgotten."

Leo’s voice was low.

"Every single day, I have to remind myself why I’m in this position. I’ve even had to forcibly suppress my own humanity, to make myself cold and machine-like, just so I don’t show any weakness in front of Morganfield."

"But I do all of this to make their lives better, not to use them as stepping stones for my own climb to the top."

"If I have to sell away their interests, again and again, just to climb higher, then what’s the point of getting to the top at all?"

"Class."

Roosevelt suddenly threw out the word.

"You talk about ’the people,’ but you ignore the most fundamental logic of politics: a class will not betray its own interests."

"Capitalists will always protect other capitalists, and bureaucrats will always protect other bureaucrats. It’s a rule embedded in their very class."

"Warren represents that class. So does Morganfield. Their alliance is a natural one."

"And you, Leo, if you want to use them, you have to play by their rules. That’s not selling out. It’s the law of survival."

"Your current class dictates that this is the only way for you to gain the momentum to advance."

"No."

Leo looked up, a flash of resolve in his eyes.

"A class might not betray its own interests."

"But there are individuals who betray their class."

Roosevelt was stunned.

Leo continued, his tone firm.

"You are that traitor, aren’t you?"

"You were born on an estate in Hyde Park. Your family were among the greatest beneficiaries of the status quo of that era. You should have been standing right alongside the Morgans and the Duponts, drinking champagne and laughing at the poor."

"But you didn’t."

"You betrayed your class. You declared war on ’organized money,’ you created the Social Security system, you gave rights to the workers."

"Your friends called you a traitor. Your own class hated you to the bone."

"But it was precisely this betrayal that made you the great Roosevelt."

"That’s the kind of person who is truly great, isn’t it?"

Leo’s voice echoed in the room.

"If I want to be great—if I want to truly change something—then I can’t just go along with the logic of class interest."

"I can’t become one of them just to survive."

"I have to find another way."

Roosevelt was silent for a long time.

"It seems you have chosen the hardest path,"

Roosevelt finally said.

"This path is covered in thorns. There are no shortcuts, no free rides. You might fall and be shattered to pieces, or you might be crushed between the forces on both sides."