The door opened with a soft click, and Anthony stepped back into the room, his professional composure intact but his eyes bright with barely contained excitent. The mont he saw sitting upright in the chair, a genuine smile broke across his face.
"Congratulations, Boss," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that went beyond re professional courtesy. "Thirty-four votes. You did it!"
I managed a weak smile in return, though the effort felt more taxing than it should have. "We did it," I corrected, gesturing toward both him and Evelyn. "I couldn’t have gotten here without either of you."
Anthony’s expression shifted as he took in my condition more carefully. Even sitting down, it was probably obvious that sothing was seriously wrong. My posture was too careful, too asured. Similar to the way that soone moves when they’re not entirely sure their body will cooperate.
"How are you holding up?" he asked, though from his tone it was clear he already suspected the answer wasn’t good.
"I’ll manage," I said, which was becoming my standard non-answer to that question. "But we should leave. Now. Before anyone realizes..."
I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Anthony understood imdiately. The last thing we needed was for word to spread that I was physically compromised or that my System could be turned off in certain scenarios. Political opponents would have a field day with that information, and even supporters might begin to question whether soone who couldn’t function without System assistance was really the right choice to lead a movent toward reduced System dependence.
"Already ahead of you," Anthony said, pulling out his phone. "I’ll call for pickup. We can use the side exit and avoid the main crowd entirely."
As he made the call, I tried to stand, imdiately regretting the decision as my legs threatened to give out again. Evelyn was beside instantly, her hand finding my arm with a kind of practiced ease.
"Easy," she murmured, her voice low enough that Anthony couldn’t hear over his phone conversation. "Don’t push it. Last thing I need is a lecture from Sienna about you getting injured."
I leaned more heavily on her than I wanted to admit, grateful for her steady presence. There was sothing comforting about having soone who understood what I was going through, even if her vision impairnt was completely different from my problem.
Anthony ended his call and turned back to us. "Car will be here in three minutes. Black limo, pulling up to the service entrance on the east side of the building."
"Good," I said, taking a careful step forward with Evelyn’s support. "Let’s move before—"
The sound of cheering from outside the building interrupted . Even through the soundproofed walls, we could hear the roar of what had to be thousands of people celebrating the vote results. The noise was distant but unmistakable. It was pure joy and excitent that carried even through the building’s isolation.
We made our way slowly toward the side exit, my progress embarrassingly halting. Every step required conscious thought and effort, like learning to walk again after a long illness. Anthony moved ahead to scout the route, while Evelyn stayed close enough to catch if I stumbled.
"Service corridor’s clear," Anthony reported back. "No staff, no delegates, no dia. Perfect timing."
The corridor felt impossibly long, though it was probably only fifty ters to the exit. My breathing was more labored than it should have been for such minimal exertion, and I found myself genuinely grateful when we finally reached the door.
Anthony peered through the small window, then nodded. "Limo’s here. Driver’s already out and has the door open. We can get you in without any unnecessary exposure."
The transition from building to vehicle was rcifully quick. Anthony and Evelyn basically carried the few steps to the car, and within monts I was sinking into the plush leather seats of the limo’s interior. The relief of being off my feet was imdiate and profound.
As we pulled away from the building, our route took us past the main entrance. I couldn’t help but look out the tinted windows at the scene unfolding there.
The crowd was enormous—easily several thousand people packed into the plaza in front of the building. Many were holding signs supporting my candidacy, others were simply cheering and celebrating. I could see news crews scattered throughout the crowd, their caras capturing the historic mont.
What struck most was the genuine happiness on their faces. These weren’t just political supporters going through the motions. These were people who genuinely believed that sothing important had just happened, that the world might actually change for the better.
I watched them through the window, feeling sothing stirring at the edge of my consciousness. Without Observation active, thoughts felt... incomplete. Like trying to grasp sothing important but having it slip away just as I reached for it. There was sothing significant about this crowd, about their reaction, about what it ant for the future, but I couldn’t quite articulate what it was.
The frustration of not being able to think as clearly as usual was almost as debilitating as the physical weakness. I’d beco so accustod to the System’s enhancent of my cognitive abilities that functioning without them felt like trying to solve a complex Rubik’s Cube while wearing thick gloves.
A wave of dizziness washed over as we turned away from the crowd, and I found myself leaning heavily against Evelyn’s shoulder. She tensed for just a mont—a barely perceptible flinch that I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been so close to her.
Our relationship was still relatively new, still in that careful stage where physical intimacy was asured and considered rather than automatic. We’d grown close over the past months, but we hadn’t pushed beyond careful boundaries yet. The forced intimacy of my current condition was probably as uncomfortable for her as it was necessary for .
But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted slightly to better support my weight, her hand coming up to rest gently on my arm.
"You should try to get so rest," she said quietly, her voice carrying genuine concern. "You look exhausted."
"Can’t," I replied, though the temptation to close my eyes was strong. "Need to stay awake for twelve hours. Otherwise, the tir goes on pause till I wake up again."
It was a cruel irony of the System’s design—the very thing that could restore my abilities required to remain conscious and alert during the period when I was least capable of doing so.
"Then just relax," she suggested. "Don’t try to think about anything important right now."
Her shoulder was surprisingly comfortable, and I found myself settling against her despite my embarrassnt about the situation. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned spending my mont of political triumph. Being barely conscious and dependent on others for basic physical support.
The drive to the airport took nearly an hour through city traffic, and by the ti we arrived, I was feeling marginally more stable. Not strong, exactly, but at least capable of staying upright for short periods.
The private airport was a blessing—no comrcial terminals to navigate, no crowds of people to avoid, just a direct route to the waiting plane. But even here, discretion was crucial. The aviation industry was notorious for gossip, and the last thing we needed was rumors spreading about my condition.
As we pulled up to the aircraft, I could see ground crew moving around, preparing for departure. Not many people, but enough that getting from the car to the plane without revealing my weakness would require so strategy.
I tried to formulate a plan, but without my Strategist, the process was frustratingly slow. Normally, I could assess a situation like this and identify the optimal approach within seconds. Now, I felt like I was thinking through molasses.
"Alright," I said finally, "if we ti it right when most of the crew is—"
Before I could finish the thought, Anthony had opened the car door and scooped up in his arms, carrying like a bride on her wedding day.
"Anthony!" I hissed, panic flooding through . "People will see—"
But as I looked around frantically, I realized that nobody was actually looking in our direction. The ground crew was focused on their pre-flight checks, the pilot was inside the aircraft, and the few other personnel visible were all engaged with their own tasks.
Anthony must have been watching for exactly this mont—a brief window when everyone’s attention was elsewhere. His spy training had served us well, identifying and capitalizing on the perfect opportunity to move without observation.
Still, being carried like this was mortifying. I was supposed to be a leader, soone capable of overthrowing a World President, and here I was being transported like a damsel in distress.
My embarrassnt deepened when I heard Evelyn’s barely suppressed giggle behind us. I turned to see her following with her phone out, clearly taking a picture despite her blindfold making her aim slightly off. She was probably recording this to send to the girls and if Camille found out I’d be dood for eternal teasing.
"Really?" I muttered as Anthony carried up the aircraft stairs.
"Insurance," she said with a grin that was far too amused for my liking. "In case you get too full of yourself once your System cos back online."
Anthony deposited into one of the plane’s leather seats with surprising gentleness, and I was grateful to be sitting under my own power again, even if I’d needed help getting there.
The aircraft was a mid-size private jet, comfortable but not ostentatious. The Canadian governnt had provided it for our use, which I appreciated—it struck the right balance between practicality and the dignity expected of soone who’d just been endorsed as a potential world leader.
As the engines spun up and we began taxiing toward the runway, I felt so of the tension finally beginning to leave my shoulders. We’d successfully navigated the most dangerous part which was getting away from the conference site without revealing my condition.
The takeoff was smooth, and as we climbed into the sky, I found myself thinking about what ca next. The vote had been just the beginning. Now ca the real challenge: actually mounting a campaign to challenge the World President. I’d likely have to visit so countries individually to build up my reputation.
It was then that I rembered sothing that brought a small smile to my face despite everything else. The Event Quest. I’d completed it—succeeded in gaining the endorsent I’d been working toward. Under normal circumstances, I’d be eager to see what rewards the System had provided for such a significant achievent.
But of course, with my System connection disabled, I’d have to wait. The rewards would be there when my abilities ca back online, but for now, they remained as inaccessible as everything else System-related.
Still, the knowledge that I’d succeeded, that I’d accomplished sothing truly historic, provided a small spark of satisfaction even in my weakened state.
As we leveled off and began the long journey back to Canada, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on that satisfaction rather than the discomfort and uncertainty of my current condition. In a few more hours, I’d be back to full strength. And then the real work could begin.
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