It's a warm, summer afternoon in Safingrad - Konzask, well, as warm as Konzask can get really. The usual sounds of cars driving past, and chatter of citizens filling the air. A normal summer day for must. However, today for others, is much more significant, today, these "others" shall decide the trajectory the Bolshevik state will go.
The glass and finely polished steal of the government building shimmered in the sunlight, as every member of the party begins convening inside, chatting and discussing possible suggestions, or reforms to bring up during the congress. Then there is the head of the Party, Varely Sablin, second only to the President and Vice President. Admittedly, excited, and secretly dreading this day for a long time now. What is decided here can not be undone until the next congress, and this could very well decide, and cement Konzasks fate, and all he can do is hope the party makes the right choices, and that he make the right choices.
Party officials make there way to the center of the building, convening in a large room. The room itself having red carpet, simple, metallic chairs with wool seats, with a podium elevated at the end of the room, elevated on a small stage. The wall at the end of the room having a bronze model of the national coat of arms hung up. There is exactly enough seats for every single party member, including the president himself. The room is filled with excitement, and nervousness, officials idly talking in their seats waiting for everyone to arrive. The room would suddenly fall silent, as Sablin left his seat, and stood at the podium. Sablin, despite being the head of the party was very clearly the youngest person here, barely even 19, yet having accomplished so much. He was a top student, and at one point a Commissar for the red army before officially being accepted as a party member, eventually winning his position in a snap election. He was quite tall, and almost always woar a white tuxedo or a black trench coat, with white dress pants and white commissar hat, with a hammer and sickle, and red star, proudly placed in the middle of it. The excitement in the room would seem to fade in an instant, replaced with expectation, and a sense of readiness among the party, as sablin cleared his throat, ready to speak. This motion made everyone in the room, quickly put on the headphones at their desk, as well as ready microphones given to them, and a small, red button. Sablin smiled, and opened his mouth to speak ~
"Comrades! What a glorious day this is for us all, a day many have been waiting for, in either excitement of fear. But put that aside, let us a remember our predecessors, they would have killed for a time as easy as this!" Sablin stopped talking, as a few chuckles and laughs could be heard, with President Dimitrov, giving a snicker in approval, Sablin smiled "1944" the Room fell quite yet again "Our forefathers, tired of the oppression, and enslavement under fascism, and capitalism rose up in defiance, and had to build our communist state from the ground up, no industry, only disgruntled farmers and peasants!" Sablin bellowed, he licked his lips, as the room was listening to him intently, curios to where he's going with this "And they did it! they brought a feudal, fascist hell, into the modern era, they built up a nuclear program, they even took us to space! Comrades if we cold do this, when the whole world is against us, there is nothing to fear in this congress!" the room was filled with applause, as Sablin was ready to truly begin.
"I'm sure all of you are aware that the goal of our immortal ideal includes it's spread, I ask you comrades, what have we done in that regard? We've grown yes, we've made allies, friends and even possible enemies, but we have done nothing to fulfill the inherent internationalist values of our governments standpoint. It is the Vangaurd Parties duty to spread it, not just secure it". The room fell silent, almost out of shame, Sablin spoke up again "Well, are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourselves? this is OUR congress not just me giving a damned speech, speak up!"
It wouldn't be long until one of the party officials pressed one of the previously mentioned red buttons. A soft beep could be heard, as attention focus's on the one who caused it. It was one of the female party members, Rayna Ludmilova. She flicked the switch on her microphone, turning it on, and she spoke, "Comrade Sablin, I firmly believe we need to adopt a much older policy, that was made by an unorthodox thinker many many years ago" Sablin looked at here, confused "What might that be Rayna?", Her voiced boomed, as she confidently spoke "Comrade Sablin it is up most imperative, to secure the revolution we adopt the ideals of the 'Permanent Revolution' proposed by comrade Trotsky." The room, almost exploded in talking and debate from officials, even catching Dimitrov off guard, while Sablin was silenced out of shock out of the suggestion. Rayna herself sat there, confidentially. The chaotic atmosphere immediately quited as another beep was heard. All eyes were now on the Minister of Foreign Policy himself, Yoan Spasov.
Yoan spoke, almost out of anger, but mainly out of his will to get his opinion on the matters of revolution across, "Comrade Rayna, with all do respect, That is not only Trotskyite Revisionism that goes against the very fabric of our party itself, but it is quite frankly idiotic, and would never work." Rayna looked at him calmly, waiting for him to continue while the other party officials quietly spoke to one another, picking up on the small sense of hostility. Yoan spoke again, "Not only are we not nearly strong enough as we would need to be to even attempt such a feat, it would also essentially ruin any alliances, or friendly relations we have, it would down right bankrupt us, and lead to our destruction. In tern what we need to do is the slow promotion of socialism in one country at a time, regardless of their placement under Communism. Be it syndicalist, or left leaning centrists, one country at a time, we need slowly influence, and tip the scales in their favor, while we ourselves continue to build up, and grow, hopefully to a point where we can have our own sphere of influence to rival the other larger powers", Sablin nodded, and there was much less dissatisfaction or controversy, being a rather processable, and moderate choice, gaining much support from the varying other left wing groups present in the congress (Syndicalists, Left Wing Nationalists etc).
A third beeping noise can be heard, it came from further back by Gero Filipov, leader of the Left Wing Nationalist movement, the 'Legionaries of Konzask'. He spoke in a much more energetic tone "Although Yoans proposal is more orthodox, and methodical, it does not go far enough. Konzask must be the head, the shining light house for the world's proletariat to gaze at with hope. We need to purge ourselves of our unnecessary foreign entanglements, cut back on our support of Trimainia if they refuse to accept a more Konzask aligned regime change, and ditch Quangsuh all together, as their revisionism will only seek to spoil our national pride and ideals." mumbling across the room could be heard, Sablin finally spoke again, "This is a congress, and the topic is revolution. Any other opinions?". The room was silent, which was signal enough for Sablin to continue "Then comrades it is time for our vote".
One by one, members of the congress left the room, and returned, placing their vote for what they believe Konzask should fallow. This process was a long one, and including the time it takes to count the votes, it very well takes hours to get through. Finally, as the afternoon shifts to a cold summers eve, the vote tally is shown to Sablin, who lets himself have a small smile as he turns back to the congress men and women, proclaiming "Congratulations Comrade Yoan. We once the congress is over we will make strides to your methodical approach", the room was filled with applause, and a few disgruntled party members making quite comments to themselves. This would mark the end of the first congress meeting, next one set to begin tomorrow afternoon, as all those who attended funnel out of building into the orange and red sunset sky. Sablin stays behind, breathing in the cold, Konzask evening air, ambitious as ever, as he plans out his speech in his head for the next meeting.
