Senate Sign up

[Zero]

Escorted by Fifty Men clad in the latest technology of Infinity Incorporated Joshua Corben would be headed towards one of the places you signed up to enter the senate race. This senate race would be one where Infinity Inc would be winning. The plan was for Joshua to win the race. But they would also make it so he would have some allies in the race as well.  Joshua Corben had not wanted to wake up at Five Am in the morning and attend a briefing today. No, but he had. As of now his job would be changing to the public face of Infinity Incorporated. In addition, he would be running for Senator. The whole Mann debacle had taught Aseron three things. One of those things was that he did not like losing. Two was that possibly the hand still held some corruption.

And three was that without any form of political jurisdiction there was nothing he could do about it. Thus why Joshua Corben was entering the race as a senator so that he could be prepared for the events that would transpire soon.  Joshua would walk into one of the offices nonchalantly and ask.  Two of the men had came with him into the building, the rest remained outside clad in business suits...black and blue. Black shirt, black shoes, blue tie, black pants. Each wore the symbol of Infinity Inc on their business suits now. The building he had arrived at was the capital of one of the regions that would be his home for the next 5 months.

So after filling out the paper and slipping it in the slot Joshua would walk to a hover-limo escorted by the Fifty Men. Inside the limo Aseron Lustre would be waiting and would hand Joshua a large brief-case full of creds.

"So far you are doing well Joshua. Keep this up and there is more where that came from. Use it on your campaign."

The limo had no bugs on it, had been scanned...and thoroughly scrubbed of any.

Joshua would nod, and once he reached a library would exit. It was time to do some research on Zarethian Law. And Zarethian Politics.


 

[Ragnar the Red]

Zaigen Yevit was there as well, thoughtfully filling out his form. It was time for his reelection, and to be honest, he felt confident. He had done quite a bit of work in the government. In the eight years in which he had been senator so far graduation rate in his province had grown 16%, and the economy all over was thriving. Financial aid was decent, and so was taxation, much of each (however mostly the first) thanks to him. However there was one thing that had him curious, and been stuck in his head. It was about the crash, he had been outside when it happened, and saw it in the distance. There was a sudden warning about the Lorcar, and impassioned he went to immediately see what he could do to help. However, withing ten minutes it was declared a false alarm. What on earth could have gone on? He had searched a bit, but mostly been shut out by a classified beyond Top Secret agency called Rapture. Part of him was telling him to push further, but during election season it seemed it may be a bad idea. It was hard decision all around what to do. Then there was Alina. Boy did she complicate things.

[Embodiment of Cringe]

"Yes you can."
"Again."
"Yes you can."
"Once more."
"Yes you can."
"Good. I'm going to ask you a number of questions. I want you to answer them to the best of your ability."
"Yes you can."
"... Is it morally correct to assume that it is okay to kill one person to save many?"
"Yes you can."
"How about to kill many to save one?"
"Yes you can."
"Is the llama's spaceship in the Sector of orbital bunnies?"
"Yes you can."
"Perfect. You are ready for the senatorial race."

The senator-candidate-whom-has-absolutely-no-chance-of-winning, Zaibama, was conversing with his political advisor, who at the last moment, decided to quiz Mr. Omglawl before he officially entered the race.
"Now, let me remind you... You are forbidden from killing yourself. If you so happen to do so, your family is next. Do I make myself clear?"
"... Yes." Zaibama replied, impersonally. One could tell he was straining to even get the word out.
"Great. Now go sign up for the race."

Zaibama nodded, and exited the hovering vehicle they just so happened to be inside this whole time, and made his way to the location one goes to for registration. He had no need for bodyguards, or attendants: He was practically unknown. No one cared about him. And that was the plan: He'll rise into power with his unending, relentless charisma, and beat down all other candidates with his nigh pure and clean slate.
He took one of the sign-up sheets, and began filling it out. Occasionally, he asked himself 'Why are we doing this on paper again? Haven't we evolved to holographic displays? No one even carries a pen anymore,' but such thoughts quickly passed. He paid no attention to the other candidates: they paid no attention to him.

[Beware Ye Who Enter Here]

Each and all of them would be at the senatorial requesitions office, be asked by a robotic servant to fill out a form and put it into the slot for examination.