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In parts of the coming road trip, Leo was going to find the true status of America in nascent revolution.
In the next few weeks, Leo tried to prepare. He talked to Paul Kerr and other Administration leaders about their ideas of what needed to happen. He studied the issues. He pretended to be an opposing candidate. He practiced speaking in front of his one compliant but captive audience, Jane. He looked at himself in mirrors.
The other New York meetings went as Paul Kerr had predicted, and he won their nominations because he was the only nominee. Slowly, reluctantly, he gained a little confidence, but the real test, the road trip, lay ahead.
Leo had little idea what preparations had been made for his travel, but he was impressed when he came to the railroad station. His accommodation was a converted cargo container that could be carried on a flatcar and moved from one train to another. Its dimensions were 2.43 meters wide, 2.59 meters high and 6.06 meters long. Within, he had a hammock, a desk, and a chair. The desk and chair had shock absorbers to ease the roughness of the ride. The entire container sat on a rubberized foundation. The corner under the desk had his battery pack, the soul source of power. A door and three windows had been added.
Leo dropped his suitcase on the floor, put his computer on the desk, and was ready to be transported to Boston.
But Boston caught Leo unawares. Instead of an orderly meeting in which he would be introduced then give a short talk, as he expected, he was hustled out of his container-home by a crowd of enthusiastic, talkative young people. He tried to remember names as they introduced themselves, but realized afterward that he hadn’t remembered a single one. Everybody seemed to be talking at once as they whisked him away from the station and went, by foot, a few short blocks to a big open urban space with a wooden stage prepared in advance.
There were thousands of people, and each one seemed to surge forward and introduce himself individually as Leo tried to get through them and take a seat on the stage. He shook every hand he could grasp, but he couldn’t understand what people were saying and soon gave up trying to respond at all.
Then he tried to listen and understand as the long list of speakers began to unwind. Some of them referred to Leo’s presence, but he waited in vain for anyone to introduce him. Among the issues under discussion were international affairs, wars, food, industrial production, communications, education, and, over and again, the greatness of Boston.
After a few of the grandiose claims for their home city, Leo was beginning to agree with them. The air did not seem as foul as in New York, though it certainly wasn’t as clear as the air he’d seen out west. One of the speakers said that Boston had come through the difficult period better than any American city, and that it was because of the work they had done since the 1990s in organizing communities and law enforcement.
Speakers said that Boston had come through the difficult period with no more than half its population dying. Even though very few people were willing to have children, for fear of deformities, the speakers said that they had great future plans for child rearing and public education.
The crowd was eating it up. Speakers were interrupted over and over again by shouts and spates of applause. Sunlight was almost gone before Leo was finally introduced.
“Now let’s have a good reception for our guest from the revolutionary center,” the speaker said. He then added, as almost an afterthought, “Leo Torres.” Leo decided that the applause was moderate, but nearly unanimous.
He laid his note cards on the seat behind him and walked, as confidently as he could, to the mic.
“Hello Boston, I’m …” he didn’t get his first sentence out for the applause, but they were applauding their home town, not Leo. He started again, “I’m Leo Torres and I am appealing to you for your support for my effort to be a representative to a new world council.”
No response, and Leo wasn’t sure they were listening.
“As the other speakers said, we have been through a very difficult time. Many of us did not survive it. If we hadn’t made drastic changes in the way things get done, probably none of us would have survived. I can see, though, that you are making progress here in Boston…” again, at the mention of the city, applause interrupted.
“Those of us who survived, you and I, are basically living today under emergency measures. We aren’t starving as much as we were. We aren’t suffocating as much as we were. We aren’t as disease ridden as we were. But we are nevertheless still living under emergency measures everywhere, including Boston…” This time the interruption was short and unenthusiastic. Leo decided to finish as fast as he could get away.
“For the first time in some years, we, as survivors, are starting to think about having a future. We need a world council to start trying to figure out how we can make that future into one we want. Thank you.”
As Leo started back toward his chair, the other speakers began offering their hands to be shaken again. The crowd surged forward, also proffering hands, and Leo was lost in a sea of Bostonians.