Cora and Alex sat in silence, watching as the Chairman took the stage. This was not an inauguration. It was a coronation. The men behind him—his oligarchs, his war profiteers, his billionaires—lounged in their seats, eyes glazed, bodies slumped, high on something far stronger than victory.
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The rally was a spectacle, a circus of blind devotion, where his followers waved flags, bought overpriced merchandise, and cheered as he spun his lies into gospel. It didn’t matter if nothing made sense. They weren’t here for the truth. They were here for the feeling of it all.
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Alex had always been the truth-seeker, the one who couldn’t help but dig deeper, who couldn’t look away. He started with debates at the dinner table, calling out the lies, pointing to the headlines. Then he started arguing online, challenging family members who had fallen into the Circle’s rhetoric, pushing back against their justifications for hate. The world wasn’t collapsing all at once, just crumbling, piece by piece.
Cora remembers how the Chairman’s rise was built on deception, chaos, and blind devotion. A failed businessman turned reality star, he spoke the language of resentment, feeding on the fears of the disillusioned.
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