[EVENT] Dreams of the Falange

President Roberto Urdaneta sat in the Presidential office, content to stare outwards at the Bogota skyline. For the moment, he enjoyed what was one of the few moments where Bogota was supremely quiet, that being Sunday mass. He sipped at his coffee, just a little too hot, and sighed with contentment. He almost could forget his situation… almost.

His secretary entered, informing him of a call. It was from Laureano Gomez. All thoughts of peace and tranquility vanished, and what could only be frustration took over. Urdaneta took the phone. Gomez was a man of passion, a militant Catholic, anti-communist, and known to berate his opponents during debates into submission. His ideas were more akin to blunt weapons, devoid of nuance. The world to him was binaries, binaries that had clear right and wrong answers. In other words, to Urdaneta, to be a puppet of Gomez was to live on the edge.

"Senor Presidente. A pleasure." Urdaneta dryly answered. Two heart attacks deep, Gomez still insisted on a level of micromanagement many would call "invasive".

"What is the progress in the Constituent Assembly?" Direct as ever, and the question made Urdaneta squirm.

"The study group is making progress… however… as we both know… these things take time." Gomez's silence was deafening.

The rest of the call was made without incident, however, deep in his country convalescence home, Gomez could not help but seethe with rage. Deep within him was a dream, a dream of a Colombia built on a corporatist foundation, yet progress seemed to slow to a crawl. Gomez cursed his weakness. He cursed the cowardice of Urdaneta. He cursed the cowardice of those in the Conservative Party unwilling to see what had to be done. Most of all however, he cursed his damn heart. Gingerly getting out of bed, he fell into his desk, took up the pen, and once again began to write.

The dream of a Falangist Colombia was still alive, even if it had to crawl.