Interlude VIII
Addemup
Anti-Imperialist
C-SPAN House of Representatives Transcript
03-31-2028 13:00 EST
PRESIDING REP. DAVID JUMMINGS (R-FL): The chair recognizes Representative Domodo from California. You have five minutes to make your statement.
REP. BERNARD DOMODO (D-CA): Thank you, Mr. Chair. I want to begin by saying that my time spent in Washington has been nothing but pleasant. It's a wonderful city, and it has every right to enjoy the same representation as the over 300 million people who live throughout the rest of the country.
DOMODO (D-CA): However, it is also a small slice of the US. If admitted, it would become the 49th most populated state, with only Vermont and Wyoming falling behind it.
DOMODO (D-CA): But this does not mean that its deserved representation in Congress can be afforded to wait until July 1st. The people of Washington, D.C. have lived without a full congressional delegation since its founding in 1790, and they've only been able to vote for president since 1964. Granted, they may have a delegation here in the House, but didn't the Framers intend for the bicameral nature of Congress to be so in order for every state to get an appropriate degree of representation? To be honest with you all, it's a travesty that we are now living in the year 2028, and the issue of DC statehood is still being hotly debated.
DOMODO (D-CA): Of course, the main problem with Mr. Thompson's proposed expeditionary amendment is the possibility for the federal government to get caught up in all the rules and regulations, and not be ready in time for the amended June 1st deadline. To this my answer is simple: have some compassion! Have some compassion towards the people of the Douglass Commonwealth and get past the red tape in time for the summer! Have some compassion and give the nation's capital what it deserves, what it's been yearning for all these years! Doesn't every state in the US deserve some compassion?
DOMODO (D-CA): And that, Mr. Chair, is why I suggest that the House vote yes to Representative Thompson's proposed amendment to expedite the promulgation of the statehood act to June 1st; not because it would hurt D.C. to wait another month, but because they've already been waiting for almost two and a half centuries.
[Much of the chamber erupts into applause.]
- - -
The dingy motel room stunk of embedded smog. Seven learned men from all walks of life, united by a common cause, sat around the room in anticipation of a meeting. One of them was a young career bureaucrat by the name of Qin Luoyang, who counted himself as one of the more nervous individuals among them.
The leader, a gruff middle-aged man named Zeng, began the discussion with an assurance of privacy. "All the cameras throughout this hotel have been taken offline for maintenance. We should be safe for the next few hours."
He stopped to clear his throat. "But with that said: we are here today because the CCP's leadership has begun a war of aggression against one of its neighboring countries. Our objective with this meeting is to organize a resistance to oppose the war effort within the city of Changsha by any means necessary, barring violence."
Another one of the activists spoke up. "Well, if there's no use in taking up arms, then why don't we just go to the university and give students some picket signs?"
Zeng looked at the man with an expression of sympathy. "Open protests aren't going to work, either. We all know what happened on April 65th."
"April 65th?" Qin asked. The others answered with silence for a few terse moments, before something clicked in the bureaucrat's brain. "...oh."
"What we need to do," Zeng continued, "is offer passive resistance. Ghandi style. Make sure factory workers get sloppy in manufacturing war materiel. If the Party requests anyone to perform a special duty in service of the war effort, they should do the bare minimum required. Anyone who gets drafted should be told to stay on the move."
Another man, standing near the window, professed his skepticism. "The Party has eyes and ears everywhere. There's no doubt in my mind that they will find out about us. How can we stay away from their wrath while maintaining these operations?"
Zheng gave him a sly smile. "Well, that's the point of the strategy, my friend: our chief secondary objective is to break as few laws as possible. Imprisonment is inevitable, yes, but it can be mitigated by adhering to order. It helps that we, specifically, will mask our identities from the general public."
Qin raised his hand. "I motion for the adoption of this strategy."
Zheng sniffed before doing the same. "All in favor?"
Three, four, five, six... seven.
"Motion passed unanimously."
This was going to be an interesting year.
- - -
Officer Lawson examined the scene in front of him. The man named Kyle Conway was shaking and sweaty, the car he identified as his parked right next to a fire hydrant. "So Kyle, do you know why we're giving you this ticket?"
"Yeah, 'cause I couldn't find anywhere else to park. There's nowhere else in the entire goddamn neighborhood!"
"There's an open space on the other side of the street." The cop pointed out.
"No, that's way too short," Kyle muttered, scratching his shoulder while talking. "I would've parked there, if any of those retards knew how to park."
"Listen, I'm not here to argue with you. You're getting a ticket, and if you don't move your car somewhere else it's gonna get impounded."
Still scratching his back in a frenzy, Kyle's attention was turned towards his car, where a second officer was rooting around the driver's seat. "Wait a minute, the hell's he doing?"
"He's searching your car."
"Yeah, but why is he searching my car?"
"Because, quite frankly, you look like you're high on meth."
Kyle's face scrunched up as he listlessly turned away from Officer Lawson. "Christ, man, it's not my fucking fault that all these niggers don't know how to fucking park their cars!" He gave a good kick to the side of his SUV, almost falling back onto the sidewalk in the process.
"Now, that wasn't necessary." Lawson kept an eye on him as he went over to the other officer, who relayed some information to him. Kyle was still fuming over his hurt foot when he returned.
"I want to ask you a question, Kyle." He gestured to the hood of his car, where the second officer had placed a ziploc bag containing white crystal. "Where did you get this from?"
For a moment, Kyle stood in silence, almost trembling with fear. "Uh... I dunno, man."
"Well, you had to get it from somewhere."
"Um... well..."
"Listen, Kyle. We're not going after you. We're looking for the big guy. If you tell us where you got this meth from, then that'll help the both of us out a whole lot."
Kyle's arm twitched. "Uh..."
"Be honest with me."
Kyle didn't even say anything. He just mumbled and continued to stare at his feet. Both of the officers stood around him, ready for anything at a moment's notice.
"Alright, if you're not going to talk, then we're placing you under arrest. Put your hands behind your back."
Kyle continued to stare out into space, wide-eyed even as the cuffs were placed onto him. "What? No. I can't go to jail. I can't go to jail..."
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you-"
"Fuck this."
"-in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before you ask you-"
"Fuck you."
"-any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot-"
"Fuck you. Fuck this."
"-afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you-"
In Kyle's mind, the officer's words were drowned out by the severity of his situation. He hadn't even been doing drugs for an entire year, and now he was going to pay for it. Hopefully they wouldn't find a way to bring up his edgy posts on Twitter...
- - -
"When is dad going to be home again?"
Singdha Patil asked her mother in the somewhat spacious family dining room. The chandelier hung as high as it could, while Mrs. Patil and her two children ate their bowls of paya. They were joined by an important guest: the former governor of the state, C. Vidyasagar Rao, who was hoping to find Mr. Patil but wound up disappointed.
"I told you already, he should be here to visit tomorrow." Singdha's mother answered before blowing on her spoon. Within a moment she turned to Mr. Rao and feigned a smile. "I'm sorry my husband wasn't here today. I'm sure he'll be able to speak with you over the weekend."
"No, no, it's fine. I just wanted to ask him how things were going." The retired politician's hand shook as he slowly raised his spoonful of paya to his mouth. "I have quite a lot invested in his company, you know."
"He's told me you are one of his most valuable customers." Mrs. Patil noted. "How has your retirement been?"
"It could be better," Mr. Rao mentioned before putting down his spoon. "I have more than enough money to keep me afloat, but my safety is another matter entirely. Especially after the events of a few years ago."
Singdha's mother stopped eating to take a quick glance at her daughter. She returned to face the former governor within a moment's notice. "I'm not sure we should discuss that... not right now."
"Why not? Your children lived through the Religious Crisis, did they not?" Mr. Rao waved a hand at Mrs. Patil's two children before going back to his stew. "They deserve to know what happened."
Singdha turned to Mr. Rao. "What did happen, anyways? Wasn't it something to do with Muslims?" Her mother opened her mouth in protest, but quickly stopped once she saw Mr. Rao's brow furrow in anger.
A fist curled from underneath the table. "Those damned pacifists ruined the party, and they ruined the country, too! The fact that nothing's been done to punish them for their actions is beyond infuriating! It makes me want to - " he stopped in his tracks before standing up in a stupor. A few startled gags spewed out of his mouth before he fell over onto the linoleum floor.
Mrs. Patil dropped her drink in a flash, failing to notice its contents spilling all over the tablecloth. "Shiva above! Raj, call an ambulance!" Singdha's older brother was quick to take out his phone and start dialing. Singdha herself ran over to Mr. Rao, a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth and drips of blood rolling out of his head.
"It'll be alright, sir. It's going to be alright..."
- - -
The Baraka household was quite typical among those in Uganda. There was enough electricity to run the lights and a radio, the plot of land was adequate to feed everyone, the three bedrooms and two baths seemed like just enough to house the family of two parents, four children and one grandparent. It was here that Barasa, the second child of Monbera and Mordasa, sat on the floor, eating his stew on a makeshift table.
"We have all done very well today, children," the patriarch, Monbera, proclaimed. "But the growing season is far from over." He doesn't need to tell me that twice, Barasa ruminated before taking a sip of stew.
Mzuzi, the oldest child of the Baraka family, was next to speak up. "We're almost done with plowing, no?" he pointed out. "That's the worst part of it."
"Oh, it may be the worst party, but that doesn't mean the rest will be much easier," Mordasa mentioned.
Monbera chuckled. "Yes, work may be long and grueling, but it's all for a very important purpose." He pointed to his half-empty bowl of stew. "We'll need a lot to get through the winter."
"You boys want to listen to the radio?" Mordasa asked. A chorus of "yeses" and "sures" echoed across the room, and within a minute the family was reintroduced to the radio's evening news program.
"Good evening Uganda, and welcome to The World Today. Our latest development comes from the Rwandan capital of Kigali, where a student-led protest against the authoritarian rule of President Paul Kagame was broken up earlier today by a massive police crackdown, resulting in the arrest of at least 44 university students. Among the protest's secondary demands was for the Rwandan government to pull out of the planned East African Federation, which Uganda, Rwanda and three other members of the East African Community are slated to join on June 1, 2029..."
"What's with the EAF, anyways?" Barasa asked. "I still don't get why so many people are against it."
"Against it?" Monbera exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. "Why would anyone be for it? It's a globalist grift that will enrich the elite at the expense of small-timers like us! It's a travesty that this scam was able to get so far in the first place."
"Maybe we should turn off the radio," Monbera's wife suggested.
And so they did, leaving Barasa to ruminate on his father's words.
03-31-2028 13:00 EST
PRESIDING REP. DAVID JUMMINGS (R-FL): The chair recognizes Representative Domodo from California. You have five minutes to make your statement.
REP. BERNARD DOMODO (D-CA): Thank you, Mr. Chair. I want to begin by saying that my time spent in Washington has been nothing but pleasant. It's a wonderful city, and it has every right to enjoy the same representation as the over 300 million people who live throughout the rest of the country.
DOMODO (D-CA): However, it is also a small slice of the US. If admitted, it would become the 49th most populated state, with only Vermont and Wyoming falling behind it.
DOMODO (D-CA): But this does not mean that its deserved representation in Congress can be afforded to wait until July 1st. The people of Washington, D.C. have lived without a full congressional delegation since its founding in 1790, and they've only been able to vote for president since 1964. Granted, they may have a delegation here in the House, but didn't the Framers intend for the bicameral nature of Congress to be so in order for every state to get an appropriate degree of representation? To be honest with you all, it's a travesty that we are now living in the year 2028, and the issue of DC statehood is still being hotly debated.
DOMODO (D-CA): Of course, the main problem with Mr. Thompson's proposed expeditionary amendment is the possibility for the federal government to get caught up in all the rules and regulations, and not be ready in time for the amended June 1st deadline. To this my answer is simple: have some compassion! Have some compassion towards the people of the Douglass Commonwealth and get past the red tape in time for the summer! Have some compassion and give the nation's capital what it deserves, what it's been yearning for all these years! Doesn't every state in the US deserve some compassion?
DOMODO (D-CA): And that, Mr. Chair, is why I suggest that the House vote yes to Representative Thompson's proposed amendment to expedite the promulgation of the statehood act to June 1st; not because it would hurt D.C. to wait another month, but because they've already been waiting for almost two and a half centuries.
[Much of the chamber erupts into applause.]
- - -
The dingy motel room stunk of embedded smog. Seven learned men from all walks of life, united by a common cause, sat around the room in anticipation of a meeting. One of them was a young career bureaucrat by the name of Qin Luoyang, who counted himself as one of the more nervous individuals among them.
The leader, a gruff middle-aged man named Zeng, began the discussion with an assurance of privacy. "All the cameras throughout this hotel have been taken offline for maintenance. We should be safe for the next few hours."
He stopped to clear his throat. "But with that said: we are here today because the CCP's leadership has begun a war of aggression against one of its neighboring countries. Our objective with this meeting is to organize a resistance to oppose the war effort within the city of Changsha by any means necessary, barring violence."
Another one of the activists spoke up. "Well, if there's no use in taking up arms, then why don't we just go to the university and give students some picket signs?"
Zeng looked at the man with an expression of sympathy. "Open protests aren't going to work, either. We all know what happened on April 65th."
"April 65th?" Qin asked. The others answered with silence for a few terse moments, before something clicked in the bureaucrat's brain. "...oh."
"What we need to do," Zeng continued, "is offer passive resistance. Ghandi style. Make sure factory workers get sloppy in manufacturing war materiel. If the Party requests anyone to perform a special duty in service of the war effort, they should do the bare minimum required. Anyone who gets drafted should be told to stay on the move."
Another man, standing near the window, professed his skepticism. "The Party has eyes and ears everywhere. There's no doubt in my mind that they will find out about us. How can we stay away from their wrath while maintaining these operations?"
Zheng gave him a sly smile. "Well, that's the point of the strategy, my friend: our chief secondary objective is to break as few laws as possible. Imprisonment is inevitable, yes, but it can be mitigated by adhering to order. It helps that we, specifically, will mask our identities from the general public."
Qin raised his hand. "I motion for the adoption of this strategy."
Zheng sniffed before doing the same. "All in favor?"
Three, four, five, six... seven.
"Motion passed unanimously."
This was going to be an interesting year.
- - -
Officer Lawson examined the scene in front of him. The man named Kyle Conway was shaking and sweaty, the car he identified as his parked right next to a fire hydrant. "So Kyle, do you know why we're giving you this ticket?"
"Yeah, 'cause I couldn't find anywhere else to park. There's nowhere else in the entire goddamn neighborhood!"
"There's an open space on the other side of the street." The cop pointed out.
"No, that's way too short," Kyle muttered, scratching his shoulder while talking. "I would've parked there, if any of those retards knew how to park."
"Listen, I'm not here to argue with you. You're getting a ticket, and if you don't move your car somewhere else it's gonna get impounded."
Still scratching his back in a frenzy, Kyle's attention was turned towards his car, where a second officer was rooting around the driver's seat. "Wait a minute, the hell's he doing?"
"He's searching your car."
"Yeah, but why is he searching my car?"
"Because, quite frankly, you look like you're high on meth."
Kyle's face scrunched up as he listlessly turned away from Officer Lawson. "Christ, man, it's not my fucking fault that all these niggers don't know how to fucking park their cars!" He gave a good kick to the side of his SUV, almost falling back onto the sidewalk in the process.
"Now, that wasn't necessary." Lawson kept an eye on him as he went over to the other officer, who relayed some information to him. Kyle was still fuming over his hurt foot when he returned.
"I want to ask you a question, Kyle." He gestured to the hood of his car, where the second officer had placed a ziploc bag containing white crystal. "Where did you get this from?"
For a moment, Kyle stood in silence, almost trembling with fear. "Uh... I dunno, man."
"Well, you had to get it from somewhere."
"Um... well..."
"Listen, Kyle. We're not going after you. We're looking for the big guy. If you tell us where you got this meth from, then that'll help the both of us out a whole lot."
Kyle's arm twitched. "Uh..."
"Be honest with me."
Kyle didn't even say anything. He just mumbled and continued to stare at his feet. Both of the officers stood around him, ready for anything at a moment's notice.
"Alright, if you're not going to talk, then we're placing you under arrest. Put your hands behind your back."
Kyle continued to stare out into space, wide-eyed even as the cuffs were placed onto him. "What? No. I can't go to jail. I can't go to jail..."
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you-"
"Fuck this."
"-in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before you ask you-"
"Fuck you."
"-any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot-"
"Fuck you. Fuck this."
"-afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you-"
In Kyle's mind, the officer's words were drowned out by the severity of his situation. He hadn't even been doing drugs for an entire year, and now he was going to pay for it. Hopefully they wouldn't find a way to bring up his edgy posts on Twitter...
- - -
"When is dad going to be home again?"
Singdha Patil asked her mother in the somewhat spacious family dining room. The chandelier hung as high as it could, while Mrs. Patil and her two children ate their bowls of paya. They were joined by an important guest: the former governor of the state, C. Vidyasagar Rao, who was hoping to find Mr. Patil but wound up disappointed.
"I told you already, he should be here to visit tomorrow." Singdha's mother answered before blowing on her spoon. Within a moment she turned to Mr. Rao and feigned a smile. "I'm sorry my husband wasn't here today. I'm sure he'll be able to speak with you over the weekend."
"No, no, it's fine. I just wanted to ask him how things were going." The retired politician's hand shook as he slowly raised his spoonful of paya to his mouth. "I have quite a lot invested in his company, you know."
"He's told me you are one of his most valuable customers." Mrs. Patil noted. "How has your retirement been?"
"It could be better," Mr. Rao mentioned before putting down his spoon. "I have more than enough money to keep me afloat, but my safety is another matter entirely. Especially after the events of a few years ago."
Singdha's mother stopped eating to take a quick glance at her daughter. She returned to face the former governor within a moment's notice. "I'm not sure we should discuss that... not right now."
"Why not? Your children lived through the Religious Crisis, did they not?" Mr. Rao waved a hand at Mrs. Patil's two children before going back to his stew. "They deserve to know what happened."
Singdha turned to Mr. Rao. "What did happen, anyways? Wasn't it something to do with Muslims?" Her mother opened her mouth in protest, but quickly stopped once she saw Mr. Rao's brow furrow in anger.
A fist curled from underneath the table. "Those damned pacifists ruined the party, and they ruined the country, too! The fact that nothing's been done to punish them for their actions is beyond infuriating! It makes me want to - " he stopped in his tracks before standing up in a stupor. A few startled gags spewed out of his mouth before he fell over onto the linoleum floor.
Mrs. Patil dropped her drink in a flash, failing to notice its contents spilling all over the tablecloth. "Shiva above! Raj, call an ambulance!" Singdha's older brother was quick to take out his phone and start dialing. Singdha herself ran over to Mr. Rao, a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth and drips of blood rolling out of his head.
"It'll be alright, sir. It's going to be alright..."
- - -
The Baraka household was quite typical among those in Uganda. There was enough electricity to run the lights and a radio, the plot of land was adequate to feed everyone, the three bedrooms and two baths seemed like just enough to house the family of two parents, four children and one grandparent. It was here that Barasa, the second child of Monbera and Mordasa, sat on the floor, eating his stew on a makeshift table.
"We have all done very well today, children," the patriarch, Monbera, proclaimed. "But the growing season is far from over." He doesn't need to tell me that twice, Barasa ruminated before taking a sip of stew.
Mzuzi, the oldest child of the Baraka family, was next to speak up. "We're almost done with plowing, no?" he pointed out. "That's the worst part of it."
"Oh, it may be the worst party, but that doesn't mean the rest will be much easier," Mordasa mentioned.
Monbera chuckled. "Yes, work may be long and grueling, but it's all for a very important purpose." He pointed to his half-empty bowl of stew. "We'll need a lot to get through the winter."
"You boys want to listen to the radio?" Mordasa asked. A chorus of "yeses" and "sures" echoed across the room, and within a minute the family was reintroduced to the radio's evening news program.
"Good evening Uganda, and welcome to The World Today. Our latest development comes from the Rwandan capital of Kigali, where a student-led protest against the authoritarian rule of President Paul Kagame was broken up earlier today by a massive police crackdown, resulting in the arrest of at least 44 university students. Among the protest's secondary demands was for the Rwandan government to pull out of the planned East African Federation, which Uganda, Rwanda and three other members of the East African Community are slated to join on June 1, 2029..."
"What's with the EAF, anyways?" Barasa asked. "I still don't get why so many people are against it."
"Against it?" Monbera exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. "Why would anyone be for it? It's a globalist grift that will enrich the elite at the expense of small-timers like us! It's a travesty that this scam was able to get so far in the first place."
"Maybe we should turn off the radio," Monbera's wife suggested.
And so they did, leaving Barasa to ruminate on his father's words.