Radical

D minus 175

The light wood and yellowish leather that comprised the décor of the National Assembly looked cheap on television, and even though luxurious in real life, it still seemed like carnival plastic to Kate. It made everything that happened against its backdrop look somehow more frantic, with an edge of hysteria.

I suppose restfulness was not the aim, she thought, but I somehow expected it to be more dignified.

How sections were allocated seemed to be a matter of tradition and seniority, in Kate's head also known as willy-waving. Radical had taken the seats they were shown to, without comment, and people on the edges had calmly moved when an MP from a neighbour party had requested a swop. Looks like I'll be sitting here for the next five years, Kate thought, and looked around.

MPs were moving around the benches like scurrying ants, sometimes in groups, and sometimes singly. Their brightly-coloured clothing, often in party colours, or technically disallowed logo prints, clashed with the yellow and grey of the room. Over there, a big contingent of yellow, black and green seemed to be keeping to their own area, with the occasional red or blue approaching them. The majority party was certainly not scuttling to other sections, they waited for sycophants to come to them.

There were many grey and navy suits too, though. Difficult to gauge who was propositioning who, in those cases.

Four hundred people rushing around. Cutting deals, right? The horse-trading I was warned about. Kate felt like a toddler at her first puppet show.

Well, not quite four hundred. Radical's MPs were mostly sitting and talking quietly, watching the goings-on around them. In line with the party manifesto, they would vote their consciences. Radical had only one agenda, and it was unlikely that another party would act in the direction of a Universal Basic Income. So, their job would be to support motions they believed were for the good of the country.

They had, however, mostly agreed to support the Party for Economic Freedom's nominee for Speaker, on the somewhat flippant assumption that an MP from their own party would be treated with more dignity and respect by his commotion-prone fellow party members. Especially those that formed the leadership.

Kamo, the leader of the PEF, caught her eye and nodded an unsmiling greeting. So, he's heard about our plan to support their candidate, Kate thought.

She was waiting to see what happened with the presidential election. She couldn't quite choose the lesser of evils, between the staid Democratic Stability Party, and the rebellious PEF.

As if our plan is any less controversial than the PEF's, she chuckled to herself.

Kate caught Mosa's eye as she looked around at her fellow party MPs. Mosa gave her an excited, but restrained smile, bouncing ever so slightly in her chair, arms crossed.

None of Radical's MPs were wearing party teal and white. We did choose a particularly hideous shade, Kate thought. It makes a striking logo and it stands out, but I can't imagine anyone over the age of five choosing to wear the colour. They were wearing predominantly navy, though, with white shirts.

Oh, someone was wearing the awful colour, but in a beautifully tailored long dress with white around the neckline and cuffs, and in skirt inserts that remained hidden unless she moved. Chantelle, Kate's cousin, with her typical flamboyance, impudence, and arty background, had found a way to make something repellent much more palatable. In fact, she looked fabulous. She was in earnest discussion with her neighbour, Thapelo, but it couldn't be terribly serious, they were both leaning back in their seats and smiling, even laughing occasionally. They both studied at Wits, Kate thought, they may have memories in common. Friends, even, if it was possible with a five-year age difference and the arts/sciences rivalry.