Pneuma met me at the foot of the steps with the same level of joy that she had when we met at the front door.  “Madame President! What a glow up! And in record time too!” 

Angel nodded his head in approval and offered his arm for balance. I waved him off, “I think I can manage in my own home.” Pneuma led the way from the foyer into an open parlor.  From there, she turned left down a long hallway.  The same navy blue runners from the stair case covered the polished wood floor underneath. Once again, endless portraits lined the hallways.  I followed as best as I could with Angel walking behind me. “Come, Madame President!” said Pneuma excitedly.  “Mr. Voltaire knows to wait just a few more minutes, but we really should find somewhere to debrief before I take you to him.” Although Pneuma was petite, not even 5 feet, she walked with incredible speed. It took a lot to keep pace with her. Angel cleared his throat when he heard me attempt to catch my breath, “Uh…Pneuma…” She turned. He gestured with his eyes. “My apologies Madame President…I underestimate my speed a lot of times.” 

She slowed down and decided to walk by my left side, while Angel continued walking behind. When she slowed down, it allowed me to really take in the portraits more. “There’s a whole lot of portraits here…” I thought aloud. 

“Ah yes… we call them the Greats…” 

“The Greats?” 

“Yes, Madame President. All of the great leaders who came before you.” 

“All of them?” I craned my neck back down the hallway and then looked forward. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like they stretched on forever. 

“Yes… All of them. At least, all of the leaders who hail from this country that is or became a citizen of this country.” She beamed with extreme patriotism. 

“So ‘all of them’ as in past Presidents like me? Or…” 

“All of them as in past Presidents like you…” she said in reverence. 

“Whoa….” 

“Now… to be fair… the Presidency is a rather new term for our nation.  For a while we had tribal leaders, prophets, priests, kings… President just started being a leadership title…what Angel…like 100…200 years ago?” 

“I’d say…” Angel chimed in. “Yeah… that is a new one. And it sure is complicated. I think I liked our Kings the best (…and Queens…). It was simple. You were the King. That was it. Nothing more to it.” He sniffed. 

Pneuma rolled her eyes. “Now Angel…” she shook her head. “If she wants to be President… let her be President… the government’s already in shambles as it is…” 

“WHAT!?!” Realizing I yelled, I clamped a hand over my mouth in embarassment. “The government’s in shambles?!? What do you mean by that?” 

“Way to go, Pneuma…” Angel said sarcastically. “I was trying to break it to her slowly…” 

Pneuma blushed. “Oh… I thought she knew already…” 

“That’s why we’re debriefing…” Angel said through persed lips. “Remember…the knock out… concussion… memory loss… my…brother…” 

“Wait!” I exclaimed, “Your brother knocked me out? How? Don’t I have bodyguards and such? I’m so confused…” I placed my hand on my still throbbing head. I guess that totally explains the never ending headache I had. Angel put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s explain everything in your office. It’s three doors down.” 

The Presidential office was incredibly…Presidential. “Welcome to the West Wing!” Pneuma exclaimed as two body guards opened the oak double doors to it.  The French doors led to another hallway with a small sitting area, and two more doors. “Mr. Voltaire is behind this door.” Pneuma pointed to the first door. “And your office…” she said as she opened the second one, “is behind this one.” The door must have been heavy because she said that last sentence with a grunt. 

I stepped into the room with awe. Ten foot tall colonial windows on all sides of the back half of the room let in sunlight from the courtyard. A giant oak desk sat in front of the windows and matched the door leading to the office. On top of the desk sat three small flags of various designs that I could not recognize at first glance. A small sitting area with a few classic sofas and couches and a coffee table provided a small space to meet with guests. Just like the US President’s office, but this was… “…my office?” I turned to Pneuma and Angel. They nodded. 

Pneuma pulled out a large leather chair behind the large desk and gestured that I should sit. I noticed the overgrown stack of papers on the left side of the desk. A single photo of my husband and dog sat to the right. I inhaled deeply as I took a seat. “Madame President…” Angel said… “You’re holding your breath…”

“Gah!” I got up once more as I let it all go right away. “I can’t do this job! I can barely remember what I ate last night, let alone run a country!” I looked at them in desperation. “I’m sure there were so many other people more qualified than I am…” 

“Yes. But as President, you got chosen, because you won—” Pneuma started. 

“Yes, but WHY, PNEUMA? WHY!?! Why did I win the election? What did they see in me? I don’t even know what this country is! What its name is. Who the people are. I don’t remember anything!?!” 

Pneuma crossed her arms and went into deep contemplation. “Hmm… alright. Let’s sit on the couches and go over the fastest national debrief on the planet.” 

I followed her and plopped down, already feeling defeated. Pneuma sat right beside me and pulled out her phone. “Madame President, you are the President of the USAR.” 

“Let me guess… it stands for the ‘United States of a’… a what?” 

“Close, but no. You got one word right. United. It stands for United Sherah, Alma and Ruha.” 

“Female Names?” 

“Yes. The names of our city-states.  We have three of them. We’re currently in Alma. The capital.” Pneuma quickly searched for a map on her phone and showed off a tiny island nation in the middle of a vast ocean. As she zoomed in, she showed off the parts of the island. 

“Alma is a city on a great plateau with a large fresh water river flowing from east to west and a smaller salt water river flowing from north to south. The people of Alma are incredibly smart. Originally, there was only the fresh water river that fed snow from Mt. Harri in the east to the Crimson Delta in the west. Ancient Almites thought it would save so much time for visitors to get their city if another river went from north to south and it would keep the fresh water river clean from foreign diseases if they built a massive dam and aqueducts for the fresh water river. That dam collects the fresh water that cascades down Mt. Harri and then it splits the water into three different tributaries. Two tributaries go around the plateau and provide fresh water to the northern and southern parts of the island. The tribuary in the center of the dam feeds up a set of aqueducts that provide fresh water to the entire city above the river flowing from north to south. All three tributaries meet at the other end of the plateau to continue to provide fresh water to the people on the western part of the city. As you can imagine, the invention of the aqueducts, man-made lake and dam made Alma the business district of the nation. The greatest exports of this city are education, entertainment and commerce. Just about the entire nation comes here to do business or trade in something. That’s why their flag has the gold cardinal directions on top of a royal blue background. It represents the two rivers that meet and the wealth and prosperity that is created from that meeting.” She pointed to the small flag in the middle of the desk.

Pneuma pointed to the city in the west, “And this city is called Sherah. Sherah is a city on a plain that rests between the desert in the north, the sea to the west and a tropical rainforest in the south. Right in between the desert and the forest is the perfect soil for planting wheat, rice and all sorts of goods. Sherah is known for its tribal lands. There are eleven tribes with eleven tribal heads that share leadership with each other. There is no single representative of that city. Each tribe is known for the goods they produce. Goods like fishing, agriculture, mining, etc. It has a very rich and deep history and somehow for most of the USAR’s history, they’ve learned to get along with each other. Occasionally a tribal war breaks out amongst them, but the eleven tribes seem to figure it out without Alma or Ruha’s intervention. The people of Sherah are the original people of this island. They typically don’t have interest in financial wealth and often barter amongst themselves. This is why, they’re often considered the poorest of us. Yet, between you and me, the people of Sherah have the most joy. That’s why my current home is there. The joy is just…contagious!” Pneuma beamed. “Because of the eleven tribes and their firm stance on remaining as united as possible, but they do come from a very bloody not so united past, their flag is a single white eleven pointed star on a blood red background.”

She then swiped the map to the right of the island. A single large snowcapped mountain rested on the furthest righthand side of the island. “And finally, this city,” Pneuma pointed to a city off the western most side of the mountain, “is where I’m originally from.” 

“Oh, me too!” Angel chimed in. He was standing behind the couch watching the map from over our shoulders. “I have a house in that city right now!” Pneuma smiled. “Yep. Most angels have made a home in Ruha. It’s climate and altitude is most conducive for their lifestyle.”

“Oh…you’re saying that humans don’t like to fly?” Angel joked. 

Pneuma rolled her eyes, “I’m saying that humans and most beasts don’t spend as many hours as angels do in a day doing meditative breathing exercises.” She shook her head and I laughed with her. 

“Yeah, Angel.” I chimed in. “Breathing…it’s something I do but apparently not as much as you.” He chortled. 

Pneuma continued. “As you can imagine, tourism, the arts, and religion are their number one exports. Ruha sits on a mountain that was once a volcano but has gone dormant. Most people love this side of the island because you can go skiing in the morning, swimming at the beach in the afternoon, and because the angel-folk prefer to preserve nature as much as possible, you can find some incredible spots for stargazing.” 

“Oh yes!” Angel chimed in. “Stargazing! It’s one of my favorite pasttimes! I know some spots with legitimately ZERO light pollution! It’s incredible!” 

“He’s right,” said Pneuma. “The people of Alma are the number one tourist demographic to Ruha. And most of the people who like to travel are the scholars who want to observe the sky, the stars and the sea. Not that the people of Sherah aren’t interested in Ruha. They’re just very…well…occupied. As I shared before, they’re largely tribal and still very much rely on ancient agricultural practices, which means that they spend most of their time working the land and sea or raising or preserving animals. Ruhan’s do not take offense to that at all and instead serve on multiple missions trips to assist the Sheronites. Because Ruhan’s are largely immigrants from nations within the UKH, they have taught the Sheronites a lot of their practices. So even the Sheronites get a little piece of Ruha in their backyards while they work.”

“The UKH?” my ears perked. 

“The United Kingdom of Heaven. Where I was created.” Angel answered. “I visit there often to talk to family and friends. But yeah. Most of us angel-folk are from there.” 

“Ah…” I nodded. 

“I was also born in the UKH and spent my childhood in Ruha. I work in Alma but currenly live in Sherah with my favorite people. Ruha, though, is a breathtaking place…no pun intended. The atmosphere is very thin as you get closer to the top of Mt. Harri. Becasue of how many angel-folk live there, the island’s single international airport rests on the western most border of Ruha.  You can get direct non-stop flights to the UKH from there if you wanted to. So knowing all of this, you can imagine why the Ruhans decided that their city flag would be a white flag with a red triangle pointing up, mirrored by a black triangle pointing down.” Pneuma pointed to the white flag on the right side of the desk. “Angels travel. A lot. They particularly like going up and down.” She laughed as she reached into the side pocket of her slacks. 

“And this is why…” she said as she pulled out a flag pin and turned to face me. “The flag that represents our nation looks like this.” She handed it to me. The flag looked like the back of an envelope with the colors and symbols of each city-state merged into each other on top. The “flap” of the envelope was white. The left side was the blood red of Sherah and the right side was the royal blue of Alma. The symbol of the center was a full compass rose with the gold cardinal directions of Alma on top, followed by the red and black mirrored triangles of Ruha underneath and the all white, but outlined in black, eleven pointed star of Sherah underneath. Three thicker black lines outlined the borders of the city state corners. 

I handed the pin back to Pneuma. I eyed the national flag sitting in the righthand corner of the room behind my desk as she unscrewed the back and pinned it to the lapel of my blazer. “Now you look like the President I know!” Her eyes were full of warmth and compassion. “Are you ready to meet Mr. Voltaire now?” 

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Total Word Count: 30,420