Cynapsia
22-08-2007, 15:04
Camera bulbs flashed across the room as over a dozen journalists from various media companies, both domestic and foreign, sat in leather-back red chairs awaiting the arrival of a particularly important speaker for this press conference. The room was abuzz with conversation, speculation as to what the importance of this particular conference would carry, and why they had been all called to hear the words of the President Kommissariat of the United Socialist States.
They didn’t have long to wait. Barely a few minutes later, the door to the side of the podium opened, and President Maximillian Coltrane stepped into the room. The flash of bulbs became even more intense as the journalists strained forward eagerly to listen to the story, metaphorically salivating at the literary nourishment they were about to receive.
Max Coltrane stepped up to the podium and stood for a moment, hands braced on either side. At thirty-one, President Coltrane was the youngest leader the USSC had ever had, elected only three weeks before. A tall, dark-haired man with glasses and a scar across his face, Coltrane was a former Army officer who had seen action in Afghanistan alongside Russian Red Army troops twenty years beforehand. Rumours were already flying around the Congress and the Presidential Palace that the new President intended to bring a direct and radical approach to the Presidency, and each journalist there had the feeling that this would be the start.
President Coltrane smiled. “Thank you all for coming,” he said in a polite English accent, before glancing at his notes. “For a decade since the fall of our closest ally, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the United Socialist States of Cynapsia has been in a period of diplomatic isolation as the previous administration sought to find internal solutions to the problem of the importation of required goods and services from socialist allies. That administration failed, and my own was elected. I promise change.”
Max looked down at his notes again for a moment. “As of Congressional Law 1452, signed into the authority by myself this morning, the United Socialist States is officially leaving diplomatically isolated status and re-entering the international arena.”
More flashbulbs. Coltrane, still the politician, took the moment to glance up at the room for a memorable photograph before continuing. “Our problems cannot be solved by isolation from the rest of the world. There are other allies out there, other comrades that can help us in the universal struggle for the liberation of the masses from their capitalist overlords, and we must seek them out and build bridges and links to forge a bond of iron and a universal front in the class war.”
“Therefore,” Coltrane removed his glasses as he spoke for dramatic effect. “I am announcing to nations of the world that the USSC is open to diplomatic relations of any level, to be addressed to the now re-opened Kommissariat for Foreign Affairs. We wish to enter the international world and stand tall alongside our fraternal and maternal allies. We wish to assist in making the world a better place. We wish to make a difference.”
“Thank you, and may the light of the revolution guide you.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Barely a few minutes later, the door to the side of the podium opened, and President Maximillian Coltrane stepped into the room. The flash of bulbs became even more intense as the journalists strained forward eagerly to listen to the story, metaphorically salivating at the literary nourishment they were about to receive.
Max Coltrane stepped up to the podium and stood for a moment, hands braced on either side. At thirty-one, President Coltrane was the youngest leader the USSC had ever had, elected only three weeks before. A tall, dark-haired man with glasses and a scar across his face, Coltrane was a former Army officer who had seen action in Afghanistan alongside Russian Red Army troops twenty years beforehand. Rumours were already flying around the Congress and the Presidential Palace that the new President intended to bring a direct and radical approach to the Presidency, and each journalist there had the feeling that this would be the start.
President Coltrane smiled. “Thank you all for coming,” he said in a polite English accent, before glancing at his notes. “For a decade since the fall of our closest ally, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the United Socialist States of Cynapsia has been in a period of diplomatic isolation as the previous administration sought to find internal solutions to the problem of the importation of required goods and services from socialist allies. That administration failed, and my own was elected. I promise change.”
Max looked down at his notes again for a moment. “As of Congressional Law 1452, signed into the authority by myself this morning, the United Socialist States is officially leaving diplomatically isolated status and re-entering the international arena.”
More flashbulbs. Coltrane, still the politician, took the moment to glance up at the room for a memorable photograph before continuing. “Our problems cannot be solved by isolation from the rest of the world. There are other allies out there, other comrades that can help us in the universal struggle for the liberation of the masses from their capitalist overlords, and we must seek them out and build bridges and links to forge a bond of iron and a universal front in the class war.”
“Therefore,” Coltrane removed his glasses as he spoke for dramatic effect. “I am announcing to nations of the world that the USSC is open to diplomatic relations of any level, to be addressed to the now re-opened Kommissariat for Foreign Affairs. We wish to enter the international world and stand tall alongside our fraternal and maternal allies. We wish to assist in making the world a better place. We wish to make a difference.”
“Thank you, and may the light of the revolution guide you.”