The morning after the alliance was formed, Leo was awakened by hunger.
His stomach was contracting. Last night's life-changing conversation was now being pushed into a corner of his mind by the most primal of needs.
He sat up on his creaky bed and, with a sliver of lingering hope, walked over to the refrigerator.
He pulled the refrigerator door open.
The dim light inside illuminated three things.
A carton of milk, four days past its expiration date.
Half a bottle of ketchup.
And a small block of hardening butter in the door shelf.
The grim reality of his situation instantly washed away the towering ambition he'd felt the night before.
He closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it, feeling a wave of dizziness.
He finally couldn't hold back any longer. He posed a question in his mind to the great Mr. President.
'Mr. President, we don't even have enough money to buy luncheon meat for our next meal.'
His voice echoed in his consciousness.
'Before we start thinking about the future of Pittsburgh, I'm afraid I have to seriously consider the problem of what *I'm* having for lunch today.'
It was an unavoidable problem.
Even the flames of revolution need calories to burn.
Roosevelt's voice rang out in his mind, tinged with a hint of amusement.
"Leo, a good politician must understand how to solve money problems. This is the most basic, and also the most important, lesson."
"But our first funds absolutely cannot come from the generosity of bankers or a secret donation from some entrepreneur. That would put shackles around your neck from the moment you step onto the battlefield. Once you take their money, you become their servant."
"Our first bit of money must, and can only, come from those you intend to serve—the people."
Leo felt a surge of absurdity.
'The people?' he asked back. 'But I'm nothing to them right now. I'm a nobody, a recently unemployed PhD student. Why would they give me money? To listen to me lecture about the history of Roosevelt's New Deal?'
"Of course not." Roosevelt's voice became gentle and persuasive. "Before you ask the people for a single cent, you must first do something for them. Something they can see, something they can feel, something that will make them trust you."
"And this task isn't about money. It's about winning their trust. Trust is the only real hard currency in the world of politics."
'Then what should we do?' Leo felt even more lost.
"Go where the people are. Go where the conflict is sharpest. Go to the places the incumbent politicians avoid like the plague." Roosevelt sounded like an experienced hunter teaching his young apprentice how to find prey.
"In those places, you'll find both your enemies lying in wait and your future supporters."
He paused, his tone growing a little lighter.
"And I guarantee, you'll find a solution for your lunch problem there, too."
Following Roosevelt's guidance, Leo gave up on his standoff with the empty refrigerator.
He sat back down in his chair and opened his computer.
He began searching local Pittsburgh news sites, community forums with dated interfaces and excessive ads, and local Facebook groups.
He filtered out boring community event announcements, posts about second-hand goods for sale, and notices for lost cats and dogs.
He was looking for conflict.
Conflict between communities and the government, between tenants and landlords, between ordinary citizens and big corporations.
He spent the entire morning immersed in this ocean of trivial yet real information.
It wasn't until the afternoon, when hunger had started to blur his vision, that he found a notice tucked away in an obscure corner of the Pittsburgh City Government's website.
It was a list for a "Forced Auction of Properties with Delinquent Property Taxes."
He scrolled down the list with his mouse wheel. It was mostly abandoned houses and shuttered small shops.
Then, one name made him stop.
Steel Worker Community Center.
He knew the place. It was less than ten blocks from his apartment.
It was an old brick building, once a local chapter of the Steel Workers' Union.
After the collapse of the steel industry, it had been converted into a non-profit organization that provided help to unemployed families, the elderly, and children in the community.
It offered after-school tutoring, free legal counseling, and skills training for the unemployed. In the winter, it even opened its doors as a shelter for the homeless.
It was the last little fortress that old workers like his father had built for themselves and their neighbors after being left behind by the times.
And now, that fortress was about to be auctioned off.
The announcement stated clearly that due to tens of thousands of US Dollars in delinquent property taxes, the Steel Worker Community Center would be forcibly auctioned by the Pittsburgh City Government the following week.
Leo's heart sank.
He immediately opened a new browser tab and began to dig for any information he could find on the matter.
He found a short article on a local news site.
The article mentioned that the center's director, an elderly man named Frank Kovalsky, had been working on the issue for months. He had tried to apply for a tax exemption from the Mayor's Office and had also attempted to solicit donations from the community, but all his efforts had failed.
Leo didn't stop his search there.
On the Pittsburgh City Government's public records website, he found the information for the registered bidders in the auction.
There was only one bidder.
A real estate company called the Peak Development Group.
The name made Leo furrow his brow.
He felt like he'd seen it somewhere before.
He started a new search. This time, he put "Peak Development Group" together with another name: Pittsburgh's incumbent Mayor, Martin Carter Wright.
The search results showed him the full picture.
The Peak Development Group was one of Mayor Carter Wright's biggest donors during his election campaign.
Furthermore, over the past few years, the company had acquired several parcels of prime real estate from the Pittsburgh City Government at extremely low prices to develop luxury apartment complexes.
Their business model was crystal clear: demolish old neighborhoods, build new apartments, and sell them to the wealthy professionals who worked downtown.
Leo could practically imagine what would happen next.
The Peak Development Group would win the community center's land at the reserve price.
Then, the old building, filled with the memories of Pittsburgh's working class, would be razed to the ground by bulldozers.
A gleaming luxury apartment building, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows and a gym, would shoot up in its place.
And the elderly, the children, and the unemployed who once depended on the community center for help would lose their last refuge entirely.
Leo leaned back in his chair, staring at the interconnected pieces of information on his screen.
He felt a surge of anger, but also a thrill of excitement.
Roosevelt's voice echoed in his mind.
"Do you see it, kid?"
"A perfect battlefield."
"Corrupt politicians, corporate greed, and the merciless trampling of the public's interest. All the elements are in place."
"Go."
"Your first assignment is here."