In a normal historical context—one where human civilization progressed without deviation—how difficult would it be to flip California, a blue state for over a decade, to red during the second U.S. presidential election of the 21st century (2004)?
"Difficult, but not impossible."
At least, for Vela Adelheid Russell—the Chairwoman and CEO of Militech, ruler of the San Francisco Bay Area in the [Resident Evil] world, and head of the rising super-industrial conglomerate—it was achievable.
Her method: preemptively altering California's voter structure.
Southern California, bound by Los Angeles and Hollywood, was a lost cause for now. Thus, she began by flipping Northern California—the Bay Area.
She had started this long ago, back in the previous century.
The reason was simple: Vela had no intention of letting Militech devolve into a playground for lunatics and monsters.
What she truly needed were skilled technicians, highly educated researchers, law-abiding citizens, and disciplined corporate forces—an environment governed by meritocracy, where the capable rose, the mediocre stepped aside, and the unfit were eliminated.
Not a herd of self-righteous activists stacking endless buffs of moral correctness.
Not even a trace of that.
Even burdened with the monumental responsibility of overseeing the interlinked development of the "Nine Realms of Vela," holding Militech's reins in one hand, she could still crush those wraiths and demons underfoot.
Escorted by Militech security, and having concluded her neural exchange with her [Cyberpunk] counterpart, Vela stepped into the bustling campaign rally venue, where the atmosphere pulsed with energy and enthusiasm.
Just as her counterpart spent New Year's with Saburo Arasaka—now playing shogi with the old man, completely unable to leave—Vela herself couldn't transmit the newly developed super fusion virus across worlds yet. After all, she'd have to be insane to carry such a bioweapon in person while attending Simmons' campaign rally in Los Angeles.
"Chairwoman Russell."
"CEO Vela."
"Lady Vela."
...
Everyone at the event, without exception, recognized her—and greeted her warmly. Some of the old-fashioned intellectuals, much like the likes of Martin Luther King Jr., men who had risen through genuine talent and education as "first-generation college graduates" in American society, even placed a hand over their chest in respect.
The gathering wasn't massive—less a grand political rally and more a social event where celebrities and dignitaries mingled.
Vela nodded to each greeting in turn.
Many attendees were acquaintances—beneficiaries of her previous donations to state, county, or municipal election campaigns.
Others were new faces—perhaps entrepreneurs and professionals drawn to California's stability and prosperity under Militech's governance: international immigrants, middle-class Americans relocating to the Bay Area, or emerging regional elites enriched through supplying Militech's auxiliary industries.
In 2003, the San Francisco Bay Area was once again named one of the most civilized cities in the United States by the Federal Tourism Bureau—ranked among the best in sanitation and public safety nationwide.
The Bay Area's rapid transformation, barring the willfully contrarian few, was evident to the entire world.
The futuristic [Vela Adelheid Center] and Militech Tower—global headquarters of the company—were advancing at unprecedented speed. Coupled with the preexisting Silicon Valley, San Francisco had rightfully earned its new title: "City of the Future."
As for her support base—even the conservative, politically incorrect Vela had Black supporters.
Following the civil rights movements of the late 20th century, Black elites in the U.S. had indeed risen steadily—but in their efforts to integrate into mainstream society, they often consciously downplayed their racial identity.
These individuals were largely disconnected from the working-class Black population—especially those living in impoverished urban communities.
As for currying favor with Vela?
Well—what choice did they have? Progress was everything.
If you can't beat them—join them.
And as for their "hommies" crushed under Militech's iron fist? Sorry—they didn't know them.
Thus, Militech's meritocratic system—its doctrine of ability over identity—was, in their eyes, worth absolute support.
As Vela activated her Geass field, the corners of her lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile. Multitasking effortlessly, she amused herself by discerning who was friend or foe, who harbored resentment, and who might be a worthwhile recipient of future campaign donations.
"Welcome, Vela!"
A hearty laugh rang out.
Turning toward the voice, Vela saw a white man with neatly combed brown hair and a polished forehead striding toward her.
In the prime of his life and at the height of his career's ascent, Drake C. Simmons greeted her with a bright, confident smile, extending his hand.
"Thank you for the invitation, Advisor Simmons."
Under the crystal chandelier's glow, Vela extended her hand for a brief, cordial handshake, her expression equally radiant.
"Welcome to Los Angeles! It's been too long, Vela. I heard you're planning to build an ecological park in San Francisco? That's quite a surprising change."
Simmons shrugged playfully as he said this, his tone laced with humor.
Naturally, Vela caught the subtext of his joke.
She—who had never gotten along with environmental groups and had routinely imprisoned protestors who obstructed Militech's construction projects—was going to build an "ecological park"? Truly ironic.
But she didn't take offense. With calm composure, Vela replied with a faint smile, "This ecological park isn't what you think. Let's leave it as a little mystery, shall we?"
The [Jurassic Park Project], as both her technological reserve and proof of concept, was never meant to remain exclusive to Arasaka.
"I look forward to it," he said, spreading his hands.
After a few more light-hearted exchanges, the two quickly settled into a warm, easy rapport.
The entire campaign gathering proceeded pleasantly. Through Simmons' introductions, Vela gained numerous new and useful contacts—and handed out her own number to several influential figures as well.
When the banquet finally ended and the guests dispersed, Simmons personally guided Vela into the hotel's presidential suite. After instructing the attendant to bring coffee, his expression turned serious.
"Vela, do you think I have a chance of defeating President Graham in the 2004 election?"
The gravity in his tone was unmistakable.
As the youngest National Security Advisor, Simmons' establishment of the BSAA (Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance) had achieved remarkable results in anti-biohazard and anti-BOW operations. With Militech's assistance—and his exemplary handling of post-crisis relief efforts after the 1998 Raccoon City incident and the 9/11 attacks—his ambitions had grown quickly.
He was no longer content to remain a supporting actor in the White House.
With an ally like Vela—who controlled the Bay Area and influenced half of California's electorate—it was impossible not to feel tempted.
The title of "youngest president in U.S. history" was within reach.
"Difficult," Vela replied coolly. "Simmons, you should know—I don't vote for the Donkey Party. Long ago, I removed your party's California chair from the mayor's office in San Francisco. And not long ago, that smiling junior of yours tried to run for District Attorney there, didn't he? I put a stop to that too."
At this, Simmons fell silent, deep in thought.
Yes, he was a Democrat—but a centrist one. His ancestors had followed Roosevelt, not the increasingly radical faction that now defined the party.
A staunch advocate for social stability at all costs, he often favored GOP policies and accepted corporate financial support. Within the Democratic Party, his faction was mockingly referred to as "GOP Lite."
That was precisely why President Graham—a Republican—had appointed him to the cabinet: not only because of his family's influence, but because their ideological views aligned closely.
In the United States, there was a long-standing tradition of appointing opposition party members to the cabinet, to broaden appeal and demonstrate bipartisan governance. Few knew that, in a certain unnamed future timeline, two of the oldest presidential candidates in history would break this very tradition.
"So, Vela," Simmons asked quietly, "you're suggesting I switch to the Elephant Party?"
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