XII
Opening
Eric Blair climbed the podium. He was quite nervous. He had been the General Secretary for less than two months, but he already had to face numerous difficulties, associated with organising the International Congress. His post was equivalent to pre-war's Prime Minister - and it carried a simmilar load of responsibility. There were moments when he envied his younger self - the one who was storming York in 1925, fearing only that he won't make it in time to aid his comrades assaulting the York Castle. Back then, everything was clear and simple. Now... It has become complicated. Politics.
He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat. The House of Congress - or Commons, as it used to be called before the revolution - was crowed with people. Not only congressmen, but also visitors and delegates from all over the world. For a short second, he made eye contact with a sturdy man, smoking a pipe. He recognised him instantly. Ernest Hemingway, writer and journalist from
Daily Worker, the same newspaper comrade Reed used to work in before becoming leader of the CSA. Blair blinked and the American blended back into the crowd. Well, he'd have to try to catch him in the evening. Or perhaps sometime later... The Congress was planned to take at least two weeks. He'd have enough time to do this.
"Comrades delegates" He started his speech. The silent whispering dissappeared instantly "We gather here, in London, in perhaps the most important moment in our history. The First Congress, held by our great French friends, has turned out to be a grand success and and inspiration for the Third Internationale. Still, events of the previous year require us to refine our approach, to take a more decisive stand against our foes."
People crowded in the House of Congress were completely silent, waiting for him to continue. Blair has already witnessed this state during Horner or Mosley's speeches. Still, he was quite surprised to reach this effect so quickly on his own. Oh well.
"We all know the news. The fall of Chicago and narrow escape of comrade Reed have shocked the whole socialist world. Therefore, we must act quickly and swiftly. I realise that many of you crave blood. Personally, I believe in peace. I believe that peace is achievable without bloodshed, through conversation and negotiation, not negation. But it seems that world is not that simple. Long and Curtis are bloodthirsty and treacherous. Their protectors - Edward VIII and Wilhelm II - are those who stand between our justice and their crimes. But the time of reckoning has not come yet. The Red Shield - French Robespierre's Line and our Republican Navy - is ready. But we still need time to craft a sword. A sword that will become our Damocles, a sword that will hang above imperialists' necks, ready to fall should they do a false step."
He paused for a while, taking a deep breath. His legs were shaking and he had to lean towards the pulpit in order to maintain stability. He never thought this would be so exhausting and stressful... Still, he had to carry on.
"But even if we can't fight directly, we must not stand still, waiting for our enemies to strike. The most pressing matter is the survival - and I want to make it clear, comrade Reed is now fighitng for his survival - of the Combined Syndicates of America. All our actions, all our plans, must be made, keeping this in mind. We must be united. We must walk forward toghether, fighitng with all our united strenght, until victory is achieved. Therefore, I announce the beginning of the Second International Congress!"
After a moment of silence, the chamber exploded. Applause, cheers, occasional "All hail Brittania!" slogan - all this mixed together into a hardly bearable noise. Blair smiled slightly, feeling as all the stress leaves his body, draining him of all his remaining strenght. But he was glad. Truely happy. For he knew that a very interesting time has come.
A time in which he'd have a chance to become one of those building the world anew.