The busy office of the Washington Navy Department faded from Leo's consciousness like an old photograph.
The scene shifted again.
The impact this time was more powerful than any before.
Leo saw Roosevelt in a wheelchair.
In 1921, a sudden bout of polio had robbed him of his ability to walk.
He was no longer young. Years of illness and political struggle had carved deep wrinkles into his face, and his temples were flecked with gray.
But he sat there, his back ramrod straight.
His gaze was more determined, more profound, than ever before.
Those were the eyes of a man who had endured hellish suffering and risen from it.
He was on the steps of the New York State Capitol, hand on the Bible, taking the oath of office for Governor of New York.
His voice, carried by microphone and radio, spread throughout the entire state of New York.
His voice carried a strength that illness could not destroy.
And less than a year after he took office, on October 29, 1929, came Black Tuesday.
The stock market on Wall Street collapsed, crashing down like an avalanche.
An unprecedented economic depression—the Great Depression—began to spread rapidly from New York, enveloping the entire United States and, eventually, the world.
"My third step was to govern a territory and create a model."
Roosevelt's voice-over now became incredibly somber.
"Fate gave me my harshest trial, but it also gave me my most precious opportunity."
Leo's perspective, like that of an eagle circling in the sky, began to soar over the crisis-stricken state of New York.
He saw heartbreaking sights.
In Buffalo, the factories that once roared day and night fell silent. Their smokestacks no longer belched smoke; their gates were chained shut.
In New York City, angry and desperate crowds swarmed the doors of banks. Their life savings had vanished with the banks' failures.
On rural farms, milk was dumped into rivers by the barrelful. The price had dropped so low it couldn't even cover shipping costs, yet in the cities, children were starving.
Tens of thousands of people lost their jobs.
Dressed in thin clothes, they stood in long lines in the cold winter wind, all for a bowl of free soup and a slice of bread.
Leo could "feel" the despair and fear permeating the very air of society.
The President of the United States at the time, Herbert Hoover, was still in the White House, stubbornly clinging to the outdated tenets of classical liberal economics.
He assured the nation that "prosperity is just around the corner." He believed the government should not interfere with the economy, that the free market possessed a magical ability to repair itself.
All he could do was appeal to businessmen not to lay off workers and urge philanthropists to donate more money.
In the face of such a monumental economic crisis, these words seemed utterly pale and powerless.
But in Albany, the capital of New York, the governor's office was another scene entirely.
The lights burned all night.
Roosevelt had summoned the brightest and boldest minds in the United States to his side.
Economists from Columbia University, law professors from Harvard University, experienced social workers, and even some reform-minded businessmen who loathed Wall Street.
They gathered there, forming a team that would later become known as the "Brain Trust."
Together with Roosevelt, they worked day and night, devising a bold course of treatment for an economy on its deathbed.
Leo's perspective began to focus on how the policies that would become the prototype for the "New Deal" were implemented, step-by-step, in the state of New York.
He saw the establishment of New York's first state-level Temporary Emergency Relief Administration.
At the time, this was a groundbreaking move.
For the first time, it established that providing relief for the unemployed was an undeniable responsibility of the government, not a matter of charity from the wealthy.
Leo's perspective followed an unemployed construction worker.
He had been out of work for months, and his family had no food left.
He walked into the newly established relief center and submitted his application.
A few days later, he received his first cash relief payment.
Holding the crumpled bills, the man, in his forties, stood at the entrance of the center and wept like a child.
That money wasn't just money; it was his dignity as a man.
Leo saw large-scale public works projects unfolding all across the state of New York.
Tens of thousands of unemployed workers were hired by the government, once again taking up their familiar tools.
They were no longer idle wanderers.
They planted millions of trees in the suburbs of New York City and built new parks.
They built new hiking trails and fire watchtowers in the Adirondack Mountains.
On Long Island, they built new highways connecting cities to the beaches.
They received more than just a paycheck; they gained a sense of accomplishment from rebuilding their home with their own hands.
Leo saw Roosevelt at his desk, signing one reform bill after another.
He reformed New York's banking regulations, forcing bankers to strictly separate depositors' savings from their own high-risk speculative ventures.
He pushed for a plan to modernize the electrical grid in rural areas, allowing tens of thousands of farmers to use electric lights for the first time.
He established special regulatory agencies to protect ordinary investors, cracking down on financial fraud on Wall Street.
At the time, these policies were attacked by conservative newspapers and businessmen as "poisonous weeds."
But they brought tangible hope to the ordinary people struggling through the crisis.
"That was the real political capital that ultimately allowed me to reach for the White House and win the people's absolute trust."
Roosevelt's voice-over was filled with power.
"With New York's successful implementation, with those tangible jobs, with the relief funds placed in the hands of the unemployed, I proved to the people of the United States that my methods were effective."
"I proved that the government can, and must, be the people's protector in times of crisis."
"I proved that I could save this great nation from the abyss of the Great Depression."
All the images vanished.
Leo's consciousness returned to his small apartment.
Roosevelt's narration was over.
Leo was silent for a long time.
For the first time, he saw a clear path leading from a young upstart to the pinnacle of power.
"Do you see, Leo?" Roosevelt concluded. "Every stage of this path has a clear objective. Its core is this: enter the system, use the system, and ultimately, transcend the system."
"Now, let us return to the opportunity before you."
"The 'Deputy Director of the Office of Community Relations' in the Mayor's Office... the position sounds nice, but it holds no real power. It's a trap. A gilded cage designed to lock you away, forcing you to deal with petty neighborhood squabbles day in and day out, draining you of all your fighting spirit."
"We cannot accept this position."
"But we can use this opportunity. We can leverage Carter Wright's eagerness to bring you into the fold and demand a truly valuable starting point—one that will allow us to start building our strength and creating our own model."
"What kind of starting point?" Leo asked.
Roosevelt smiled.
"A place where we can convert the reputation we won in the community center battle into more permanent, institutional power."
"A position that Carter Wright deems trivial, but for us, is a crucial foothold."