Chapter 9: I*raeli ahh Propaganda

When the timer finally disappeared, Charlie pushed himself upright and reached for the wooden supports. Getting them into position took more effort than he expected, but once he managed to stand, his legs held.

They trembled beneath him, and every move of his weight felt uncertain, but they weren’t collapsing anymore.

Charlie took a careful step.

Walking was another matter entirely. He made it to the door and rested against the frame, breathing through the effort.

"Good enough."

Biggie had already reached the door. The pig nudged it with his snout. When that wasn’t enough, he pushed harder until the door swung open.

Charlie glanced down at him.

"Show-off."

Charlie followed, leaning heavily on the supports. He had barely made it a few steps when the old man suddenly appeared in front of him.

Charlie jerked back.

"Jesus—"

One of the supports slipped. The old man caught it, handed it back, then pulled a folded piece of paper from his robe.

Charlie glanced at it.

"What?"

Instead of giving it to him, the old man held it out to Biggie.

The pig took the paper in his mouth.

Charlie stared at him.

"You’re giving the pig a list?"

"Groceries."

Charlie looked at the list dangling from Biggie’s mouth.

"I’m supposed to buy those?"

The old man nodded.

Charlie glanced down at his legs. "I’m cooking?"

"Yes."

"And nobody can do it?"

"No."

Charlie sighed. "You know, you could send someone with me."

"They don’t know what to buy."

"It’s written on the list."

The old man shook his head. "The List is just a suggestion. You decide what to buy."

Charlie looked at Biggie, who was still standing there with the list.

"Fine. Apparently we’re going shopping."

Biggie snorted.

"Don’t look so excited."

By the time Charlie made it outside, he had figured out one important thing: he couldn’t carry anything.

Both hands were needed for the wooden supports, and trying to walk while balancing groceries under his arms sounded like a good way to end up back in bed.

Fortunately, Yu had a solution. She had attached a small wooden cart behind Biggie with a simple harness. It wasn’t much bigger than the pig himself, but it was enough to carry whatever Charlie needed.

Charlie adjusted the list in his pocket and watched Biggie waddle ahead.

"You know, this is actually useful."

Biggie snorted.

"Don’t let it go to your head."

They headed deeper into Liangjing, farther than Charlie had gone on his last trip. The streets became busier as they approached the centre of the city, with shops packed tightly along both sides and people moving between them in every direction.

Charlie stopped whenever he found something from the list, adding it to Biggie’s little cart before moving on.

He was trying to figure out what one particularly ugly vegetable was when he noticed several people putting up posters farther down the street.

The largest one showed a middle-aged man in a dark blue robe, smiling confidently beneath enormous characters.

LIANGJING NEEDS ORDER.

LIANGJING NEEDS STRENGTH.

LIANGJING NEEDS ZHAO RENGUANG.

Underneath was another line.

MAKE LIANGJING GREAT AGAIN.

"Okay. That’s... familiar."

A woman carrying a stack of the same posters stepped in front of Charlie before he could get any closer.

"You probably shouldn’t get involved with him."

Charlie stopped, resting both hands against the wooden supports. "Why?"

"You don’t know who he is?"

"No."

The woman lowered her voice, as though even saying the man’s name too loudly might cause trouble. "Zhao Renguang has a terrible reputation. They say he’s fathered more than nine hundred children in Liangjing alone."

Charlie took a moment to process that.

"Nine hundred?"

She nodded.

His eyes drifted to her stomach.

"Is that one of his too?"

The woman’s mouth fell open. Charlie realized almost immediately that he had chosen the wrong question.

"I—"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry."

She continued staring at him for another second before shaking her head and stepping aside.

"Fine. Do whatever you want."

Charlie watched her disappear into the crowd, then turned back toward the poster.

Nine hundred children.

That was an absurd number, even by the standards of a city where apparently nobody thought to explain anything to him.

Biggie gave the cart a tug, pulling it another step forward.

"Yeah, yeah. I’m coming."

A man standing nearby had overheard the exchange. He gave Charlie an amused glance.

"Who are you voting for?"

Charlie blinked.

"Who?"

The man gave him a puzzled look before realization crossed his face.

"Ah. You aren’t from Liangjing."

The man pointed toward the poster. "Zhao Renguang is running for Grand Administrator. Shen Lihua is running against him."

Charlie shifted his attention to the second poster, which showed a woman in a pale robe beneath her own campaign slogan.

"Election’s in three days. Everyone’s been talking about it."

"Can vote?"

"If you’re registered."

That answer was less encouraging than Charlie had hoped, but the entire thing was strange enough that he wanted to see where it led.

He followed the flow of people toward the large building at the end of the street.

A blue-and-white flag hung above the entrance with a six-pointed symbol embroidered in the centre.

"Holy shit."

Something about the flag felt familiar. Like something straigth from home.

"Israel?"

He stared at the flag.

"There’s no way."

Biggie tugged at the cart.

Charlie shook himself and started toward the entrance. Inside, a young woman sat behind a wooden desk. Charlie approached with Biggie beside him.

"Salam alaikum."

The receptionist looked up.

"What?"

Charlie smiled awkwardly.

"Salam alaikum."

She stared at him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Charlie cleared his throat.

"Rigth...Uhm. It’s a little habit of mine."

She picked up a register.

"Citizenship?"

"Oh, I’m American."

"American?"

"Yeah. America."

The woman waited. Charlie reached into his clothes and pulled out the passport he’d somehow still been carrying. He placed it on the desk. The receptionist picked it up, turned it over, then looked back at him.

"What is this?"

"My passport."

"This isn’t a citizenship document."

"It literally is."

She pushed it back toward him.

"Do you have a Liangjing citizenship certificate?"

"No."

"Then you’re not registered."

"That’s disappointing."

The receptionist reached for another form.

"Name?"

"Charlie Kirk."

She wrote it down. Then pointed toward the back of the building.

"Go through there. Stairs down. The voting hall is below."

Charlie nodded.

"Thank you."

The receptionist watched him walk away.

Charlie took the stairs with Biggie lumbering after him.

He had expected something closer to what he remembered from Earth. There should have been private booths, curtains, ballots, someone checking identification before allowing people near the voting area.

Instead, the room below looked more like a public meeting hall.

Rows of chairs surrounded a small raised platform. Two chairs had been placed behind a narrow table at the front, with a large timer sitting between them. Behind the platform hung another campaign poster showing Zhao Renguang and Shen Lihua side by side.

Charlie found an empty seat near the front and eased himself into it.

A man beside him moved over to make room.

"Sorry, bro."

Charlie settled the wooden supports against the side of his chair. "No problem."

He nodded toward the platform.

"So how does this work?"

The man gave him a sideways glance. "You’ve never been to one?"

"First time."

"They debate for an hour. After that, everyone votes."

"That’s it?"

"Pretty much."

Charlie considered the arrangement. "Fair enough."

The man glanced down.

Biggie had settled beside Charlie’s chair, his little cart resting behind him while he watched the room with his ears raised.

"Is that allowed?"

Charlie rubbed the pig’s head.

"He’s with me."

"That wasn’t really what I asked."

"He’s my legal pet."

The man stared at him.

Charlie nodded toward Biggie with complete confidence. "Very qualified."

Biggie gave a quiet grunt.

The man looked at the pig for another moment, decided there were probably better things to question, and turned back toward the platform.

Charlie settled deeper into his chair. He had no idea what either candidate actually stood for, why one of them was rumored to have more than nine hundred children, or why a flag that reminded him of Earth was hanging over the entrance to a political building in the middle of a city.

But the room was filling up and whatever happened next, Charlie was about to hear an actual political debate for the first time since he woke up in this strange place.