I made my way through the domes, finding the alleys and pathways mostly empty as I wove my way toward the center of the city. The signs directed me toward the center, but not quite to the mausoleum, rather I found myself in the small square that Pott’s had for civic events. It was full, with several lines of people moving through it, and I found the back of one of them, and took my place in it. The person in front of me looked at me casually, turned their attention back to the line, then did a double take and looked at me again. I met his eyes, and he returned his attention to the line, but now with the intense focus of someone doing his best not to draw attention to himself.

He had nothing to be nervous about, but it wasn’t a reaction I was unused to. We moved forward at a good pace. Taking a step, waiting a few seconds, taking another step. At the end of the line I could see several small booths that had been set up, and several white robes answering questions, guiding people, and taking the slips of paper as people completed the process.

I heard a cough behind me, and looked to see that Julian had taken his place behind me. It was my turn to do a double take..

I nodded in his direction, “Julian.”

He returned the gesture, “Donovan.” He looked better than the last time I’d seen him. He’d definitely gotten some sleep, shaved the rough patches of stubble from his face, and eaten something, all of which made a distinct difference with his appearance. A number of other people in lines, or even just passing through gave him nods of acknowledgement, brief hellos, or even engaged him in conversation as we moved forward in the line. I’d forgotten after seeing him working in his lab, but he was a member of the Honored Dead for a reason. He commanded the white robes, and so was in a way the person most in charge of keeping things running in Pott’s. Much like Mama, everyone in Pott’s knew him, and had dealt with him or his white robes in one way or another.

When we were roughly halfway through the line, the greetings stopped. I turned to Julian.

“I have a report to give you.”

He held up a hand. “We already know what happened. Our network got a briefing to us almost as soon as it happened. We can both head to the Mausoleum after this to discuss options, though I believe Kit is already working on breakdowns of each possible decision we could make.”

I nodded. “In that case… who are you voting for?” I asked.

“I endorsed Mama.”

I raised a nonexistent eyebrow, finding myself surprised. I’d heard a number of arguments for either option at this point, and for some reason I’d expected Julian to choose Solomon. In a lot of ways he was the more practical choice. I wasn’t as bound by practicality as he was, of course, and thinking Solomon was a prick had been enough for me.

Julian noticed the confused look on my face. “Wondering why?”

I nodded.

“It’s quite simple. The voting pool, those who are going to have access to this advanced version of the system, what do we know about them?”

I shrugged. “Aside from Pott’s?” I asked.

“Yes”

“Braindead, superstitious Wasters for the most part. Never left their home settlement, or done anything of worth. Shitheads, for the most part.”

Julian smiled a bit, in spite of himself. “Yes, exactly. Are you aware of Mama’s name?”

I shook my head. Mama was Mama, I’d never known her by any other name.

“It actually is Mama, in the system I mean.”

“So?”

“So, the average waster is an uneducated, superstitious, and prejudiced person. When the system shows a number of options to pick to be in charge of them, do you think they’re more likely to gravitate toward someone with the name Solomon, Masters, or Mama?”

“So you’re saying her name gives her an advantage because everyone in the wastes is stupid.”

“Yes, but I also know Mama. Have you ever had an argument with her?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you ever won one?”

I shook my head.

“I have won three. Considering how long we’ve been in the Honored Dead together, I am actually very proud of that number.”

We moved forward a few more steps, we were nearly at the booths.

“Basically, I think she’s got a better chance than Solomon, or Masters… My only real concern is how to motivate some of the Khan’s people to vote. He himself has made no mention of his candidacy, and… we’ll focus on this primary for now. Burn that bridge when we come to it.”

We reached the booths. I followed the instructions given to me by a white robe who seemed too exhausted to care who either Julian or I was, for which I felt grateful. I went into a booth, marked Mama’s name, folded the paper, walked out, handed it to another white robe, and was done. I noticed a notification in the corner of my vision and I opened it as I started walking toward the mausoleum.

Congratulations Citizen! You’ve just earned an additional rank in NATIONALISM! You’re doing your part in recognizing that America is the greatest country in the world!

I sighed, slightly disappointed. I had hoped that I was going to receive a handful of PP for ‘delivering’ my vote, but clearly the system recognized my voting for what it was. The Nationalism stat in general baffled me. I could see no benefit for the average citizen it provided. If it actually did anything it was probably something that was meant to be monitored and tracked by whatever governments were meant to exist. I wouldn’t be surprised if even now someone’s Nationalism stat was a good way to determine how a person would vote in the upcoming election.

I reached the Mausoleum and made my way through the front doors, white robes and others clearing the way for me as I walked through them. I heard an increase in muttering since the last time I’d been through. I caught a few words, “a hundred”, “ALL of them!?”, “by himself?”. It wasn’t hard to understand what they’d been referring to. One of them had likely overheard Nix’s report, and spread it quickly to others. One of the problems with Pott’s was that everyone knew everyone else, and news spread incredibly quickly from one part of the city to the next. This was sometimes a good thing as well, but in my case it rarely worked out in my favor.

I made it into the chambers of the Honored Dead. Mama and Solomon were conspicuously absent, but Kit and Jim were there along with Nix. They were all gathered at the table, going over different charts and maps, pointing at one area or another. Nix gave me a welcoming nod, Jim ignored me.

“Hello Donovan,” said Kit, holding out her hands.

I stared at them, confused for a few moments, before realizing. “Oh, no new maps or journals this time. I was mostly in the same spot.”

She withdrew her hands, a bit of disappointment in her expression. “That’s fine, force of habit I suppose. Your journals and maps tend to have the best information… and formatting.”

Nix chuckled. “We actually have all of our undertakers model their note-taking and reports after your journals.”

I blinked. “What?”

Kit nodded. “I had them implement the change a while back. Yours make the most sense and are the easiest to follow.”

“You’re just saying that because you rely on his the most and are used to them.”

Kit nodded. “All of these can be true. None of those statements are exclusive of one another.”

Jim coughed. “I thought we were here to plan, not talk about journals.”

I nodded. “Just tell me who to kill.”

Julian walked in shortly after, and we all gathered around the maps to discuss possibilities. Breaking the siege directly would be incredibly difficult, but while it did remove a large portion of our allies from play, it also provided an incredible opportunity. Jim was actually the one to point it out.

“The Remnants have committed the majority of their forces to the siege right?” he asked.

“That’s what the intel indicates,” responded Kit, tapping a pile of notes.

“So… let’s just go around them.”

“Elaborate,” said Julian.

“Well, they’ve got all these forces here,” he said pointing at Medina, “that means they’re not defending everything else as heavily. We move through the deadzone and attack key targets behind their lines with less resistance. Right?” Jim asked the question with the kind of insecurity only a yes man with his first original thought could provide.

“Right,” said Nix. “It doesn’t make sense for us to attack the group directly, we don’t have the forces for it even if we pull in more of the Rens, the Hordes other forces, and whatever we can muster, but if we attack them where they’re weakened, we can make the siege all that harder. If we hit them hard enough, we may even be able to force them to withdraw.”

I nodded along as I listened. I liked this plan, it was simple and made good sense. I looked over to them. “I’ll say it again. Just tell me who to kill.”