[Slokais]

Ousmane had been unable to strike the assailant and neither had his attacker. The Brissicans seemed very amused by the fight between the Koldans. It was as if this was no more than some form of entertainment to the Brissicans. It had always been like this, Koldans killing and fighting each other when the Brissicans profited. Ousmane’s father was a high-ranking politician, high enough to live well beyond the fears and dreams of everyday Koldans. Despite this image of Kolda’s self-reliance pushed by the KLF-U, Kolda needed the world and the world needed Kolda. For much of his life, Ousmane had believed the lies his father had told, of greedy capitalists and dangerous Islamists. Yet when he attended University, his perceptions changed. Although capitalism was still evil, so was the false flag of socialism promoted in Kolda. The world could be divided into the camps of Capitalism and Communism yet in the end, people suffered under both. When his father called him to return to Kolda and join the political machine, Ousmane had a new goal. Be the good child his father wanted and take everything down from the inside.

His attacker swung again, although this time Ousmane grabbed the knife mid-strike and pushed it back into his attacker. She fell backward, clutching her chest. Behind them the Brissicans still stood, waiting like spectators for the referee to call the fight. When it became clear, she was not getting up, the Brissicans themselves prepared to fight, although he doubted they would. He would most surely be changed with the murder of this woman, even if in self-defense and in favor of the greater good.
“I’ve got a murderer over here” one of them yelled in French.
“You played yourself, dealt with our problem and we still got the money,” another said.
“What’s in it for Brissiac?”
“Everything, you Koldans do the work, and we naturally reap the benefits”
“What about Brissiacan independence and self-reliance?” Ousmane asked as he thought of a way to get out of this situation and this alleyway.
“The Koldan people have and always serve Brissiac”
At that moment, a group of young Koldan boys appeared in the alleyway behind them.
“Report this man to the police” one of the Brissican men demanded.
“What has he done?” one of the boys demanded, Ousmane recognized him as the one who had taken his bags several days before.
“Never the matter, I’ll tell the police you boys are illegals and they will deport you” the taller Brissican man said, suddenly realizing he was surrounded.
Ousmane realized this was his chance and rushed the three Brissican men, and that same time the boys on the side did the same. In the chaos of the moment, Ousmane somehow slipped through and onto a dusty backroad. Those boys, similar to those he met during his childhood trip, had saved him. Fate had spared him, yet Ousmane realized the conspiracy within Kolda was greater than before.

For the first time in a long time, Etienne Seghor was slightly afraid of losing his job. Although he publicly declared the DAP would never come close, and the Koldan people would triumph, internal polling suggested otherwise. It didn’t help Republican Rally and the Dawla were also taking away some of his votes. Although they had long been party allies, they had still fielded candidates in 2024, and now look to cut into his margins.
“What are our options?” President Senghor said as he sat with his VP and Chief Advisor. They had been reviewing the internal poll conducted last week by the KLF-U.
“Comrade President, we have several, although the foreign election groups are watching closer this time” his Chief Advisor, Moussa Kiemba. Kiemba had been a long time party fixer despite being a former Islamist, yet his resources and connections were key in setting up Senghor’s path to control during the early 2010s.
“We can’t let the capitalists have any chances” President Senghor
“Very well, the most minor measures are already being undertaken. The Moujerrian extremists are already being denied from the voting booth”
“A real shame, the children of Diawara turned on the party which could help them the most” Vice-President Joseph Thianghou added. Thianghou was a Revivalist Christain, who while a little extreme sometimes was key in gaining the support of Revivalist benefactors. Many in the party looked at him very favorably, maybe a little too much for Senghor’s liking.
“Indeed, what about the RPA-DAP alliance in Saborrise, they usually come out in large numbers there?” The President asked.
“A little truth, we are already distributing materials claiming Jissel Baoul is a radical Islamist who wants to ban Animistic practices, watch how those Saborrise savages react” Moussa Kiemba responded, grinning at his cunning plan.
“Well, you seem to have things settled as always, Comrade Kiemba,” President Senghor said.
“Let, me speak with you in private, Comrade President” Vice-President Thianghou added
“Of course”

After, the Chief Advisor left, Vice-President Thianghou asked the President bluntly
“Do you believe in Diawara?”
This was a conversation which had occurred many times as Thianghou, a believer in Rivalist, Diawara faith attempted to convert the Catholic, Senghor.
“I believe in the organization and the restoring the Koldan people, yet I don’t believe in idol worship,” President Senghor said
“You should, Diawara believes Koldan can become great again, and promises all power to you if you accept her wisdom” Thianghou said
“Look, Joseph. I am a man of God. While I appreciate the support of Diawara faithful and I can not commit in good faith. God willing we will win this election, that is enough”
“Very, well. But the spirits are restless and rising”
“Tell the spirits and yourself to get out of my office, I want to believe in you, Thiangou. Yet these statements are outrageous, ” President Senghor said, pointing to the door.
“The ancestors remember those who turn against them” Thiangou said as he stood up.
“When you get over this Comrade, I want you to pick a suit for Tuesday’s victory celebration”
“Very, well, you have chosen,” Thinagou said, closing the door behind him.

Before Kolda was a nation, it was a city. A great city rising in the grasslands and the center of a large trading empire. Yet today, little remained except a few markers. This is the story Mbaye knew before she stepped out of her mobile prison, the guards still holding her.
“Welcome to New Kolda”
The shell of the ancient city which had been decayed and eventually destroyed by colonial authorities in the 1920s had been restored. The brush of the arid Moujerrian plan had been completely cleared with a mile of the massive modern tower reaching the sky, construction vehicles were abundant. Small structures covered the landscape made from pre-built concrete and steel. Mbaye was quickly pushed out of the road and into a network of white tents.
"Where I am going?" Mbaye asked
"To serve your creator," one of the guards said, as they approached a checkpoint.
It was a small white tent, with various medical instruments pushed to the walls. Nurses wearing white robes approached.
"Please comply with all further instructions, in time you will be granted answers from the high priest," A young nurse said as she inspected Mbaye, measuring her height and guiding her into a small adjoining tent.
"Please change, your clothes are inside," the Nurse said.
Mbaye wanted to be unwilling yet after many days of living in complete darkness, just being outside in the light was a gift. In time she could escape, yet for now, she knew it was pointless. Her new clothes were all grey with a large curved symbol across the front. It included a bottom undergarment layer similar to pajamas. After gathering her old clothes, she stepped out of the tent.
"No, leave them inside" a guard demanded in Kango.
After setting her clothes back inside, the same nurse greeted her
"Wonderful, you look much more beautiful," she said.

After changing, Mbaye was finally allowed to enter the general population. She was given an electronic card attached to her waist, which listed her daily schedule on a small digital screen. From there she was allowed to roam the city, although she was warned that if she failed to report to her scheduled duties it would "not go unnoticed" by the "ancestors". The people of New Kolda wore various singular-colored clothes, each with the same symbol that adorned her chest. Most wore grey, although the guards wore green many guarding women and men dressed in white. It was clear, that those who were white were granted high authority. After several minutes, including heading towards the edge of the city of were Mbaye found a high electric fence, she arrived at her assigned Home. It was a simple grey concrete cube from the outside in a sea of similar cubes. After slipping her electronic card into a small slot into the door it opened.
This building was not all hers, it had been subdivided into smaller cubes with white walls and tent doors. Peaking around it seemed as if the building was full with only empty cube.
"Welcome home to me" Mbaye said as she stepped into her new home.