Although Fausto was no longer deeply involved in government affairs, he remained a key figure in the political landscape. His influence on public opinion was undiminished, leading to an invitation to return to the radio show Can You Hear Me, Lexter? This time, the aim was to delve deeper into his personal story, as his previous appearance had left many questions unanswered.
The conversation began with a relaxed tone. Fausto recounted moments from his childhood, pivotal events that shaped his impulsive nature and unyielding optimism. “Those years defined much of who I am now,” he admitted. However, he also revealed that during his tenure as head of state, he grappled with profound doubts.
“There were many times I questioned whether what I was doing was right,” he said candidly. “I was only twenty years old when I took on that role. Now, at nearly thirty, looking back, I see that it was an exhilarating time but also fraught with uncertainties. Like many young people, I had a tendency to challenge the status quo, to claim the world as my own. But over time, I learned something vital: the world, though imperfect, always has room for improvement. That had to be my goal—to change it for the better.”
Fausto credited much of his strength to the people who surrounded him during those years. “I was fortunate to have extraordinary individuals around me, people who taught me to see beyond the chaos and devastation left by previous generations. We lived in a land scarred by past mistakes, a place where any day could be your last. Even so, I firmly believed I could show the Seven Republics a different vision—something they could call their own, something that would fill them with pride.”
He reminisced about the times when the walls were still under construction, painting a poignant picture of the spirit of those who worked on them.
“Even though they lived within the borders of a republic, many didn’t feel like they were part of it,” he explained. “The state was disconnected from rural areas, far from the great cities. Yet, despite that disconnect, these people rose every day and went to work on the walls. No one forced them. They could have left, sought a better future elsewhere, but they didn’t. The pay was enough to start anew, and yet they chose to stay.”
Fausto paused, his gaze drifting to some distant memory before continuing with a wistful smile.
“Unknowingly, they were part of something greater. Completing the wall gave them purpose, a sense of belonging, even if they didn’t realize it. It was magical, in a way. They weren’t just building a wall; they were building a collective dream.”
When the wall was finally completed, Fausto felt that, for the first time, the Seven Republics could see themselves as a unified whole, as part of a shared history. But those times were also riddled with uncertainty. After the dissolution of the Directorate, many of his political colleagues seemed paralyzed by indecision.
“They had in their hands the chance to make a real difference,” Fausto said, a note of bitterness in his voice. “But no one dared take the first step.”
He vividly recalled the disappointment he felt toward the Directorate and the inaction of his peers. When the Grand Directorate was dissolved and the Congress formed to elect a new leader, he knew the road ahead would be challenging. The list of potential candidates was endless, with many disqualified for various reasons.
“I wasn’t an exception,” he admitted openly. “My youth, my inexperience, and the fact that I was relatively new to Congress worked against me. But in the end, I stepped forward. Because if there’s one thing I learned during those days, it’s that change never comes unless you dare to try.”
Still, when he raised his hand to nominate himself, something unexpected happened: he was accepted unanimously. “I couldn’t believe it,” he confessed during the interview. “I was confused, happy, and terrified all at once. Suddenly, I had immense power in my hands—a power that could give as much as it could take. The responsibility was overwhelming.”
Lexter asked him with genuine curiosity:
“Why did you do it?”
Fausto took a moment to reflect before answering. Finally, with a faint smile, he said, “The odds weren’t great—I knew that. But I preferred to try, to raise my hand and hear an answer, whether it was no or yes, rather than remain silent and spend the rest of my life regretting not taking the chance.”
His words hung in the air with the weight of someone who has learned to face the fear of failure.
Over the course of the conversation, Fausto also spoke about his relationship with Victorino, his vice president. “I had never met him in person before being elected,” he admitted. “I only knew of him from a speech I attended at my wife’s insistence. He was intimidating and stern. I remember he carried a cane, though he clearly didn’t need it. To me, it seemed more like a symbolic accessory than a functional tool. It struck me as a bit ridiculous, but at the same time, it gave him an air of wisdom that commanded respect.”
He recounted how, after being elected president, he was informed that Victorino would be his vice president. He described Victorino as a firm man, and despite occasional clashes, Fausto felt proud to collaborate with him. They often spent long nights working to propose laws that could satisfy everyone in Congress.
“It’s nice to want to pass laws that help people,” he said. “But those laws need to satisfy and convince the senators and deputies. In politics, if you want food to be free, that would be ideal, yes. But how would it be funded? Where would the money come from? How would it affect the rest of the economy? Noble ideas are hard to implement, and doing so recklessly would only cause problems in the future. So, we found compromises, like lowering the price of abundant foods. That was the best we could do.”
Fausto recounted the experience with a mix of nostalgia and humor, describing the time when he and Victorino were trying to figure out a way to "distribute water" across all the republics. They spent over ten hours locked in an office, surrounded by piles of papers, documents, drafts, and proposals that seemed plausible, but none quite fit together.
"It was exhausting," he said, chuckling. "There was no way we could find a clear solution, and the more we tried, the more frustrated we became."
In a moment of complete exhaustion, they decided to take a break. They collapsed onto the floor, side by side, letting the silence and fatigue fill the room. Victorino, always the picture of composure, pulled out his pipe and began to smoke calmly. Then, almost on impulse or perhaps by habit, he offered the pipe to Fausto.
"I told him I didn't smoke," Fausto said, his smile revealing the discomfort the memory brought him. "But Victorino, in his usual way, mocked me. 'You survived the infected, and you're afraid of this?' he said, laughing."
The exhaustion and frustration must have played a role, because Fausto ended up accepting the pipe. He took a puff, but as soon as he did, he started coughing uncontrollably, his lungs burning and his throat closing up.
Victorino burst into laughter, his deep, infectious laugh that rarely surfaced. Fausto couldn’t help but join him, choking on his coughs and tears from the smoke. It was an absurd and human moment in the midst of a grueling day, one of those instances that, over time, would become an unforgettable memory.
He then went on to explain what had happened with the cabeluces, the famous uprising in Ochanca.
After the cabeluces were declared free, a period of transition full of challenges and social complexities began. The new law granted freedom to all slaves, ensuring them the same rights as any other citizen. However, implementing this measure was far from simple. It wasn’t an immediate, uniform emancipation; the state did not burst into homes to "tear them" from their masters. This created a variety of situations, as the relationships between slaves and masters were not homogeneous.
Fausto explained that, while he recognized slavery as a moral aberration, he also understood the complexities inherent in human nature. There were cases of violence and abuse toward the slaves, but there were also masters who treated them as part of their family. This diversity of experiences made the situation difficult to address.
One of the greatest fears was that freedom could turn into a curse for many cabeluces. Freedom without support could lead to destitution, fueling the perception that "leaving them to their fate" was, in essence, a form of negligence disguised as justice. Some slaves, faced with uncertainty, preferred to stay under the yoke of their masters if it meant having a roof and food secured.
To mitigate these consequences, the state took on the responsibility of caring for the most vulnerable among the freed slaves. Support programs were established, which included temporary housing, basic education, job training, and access to medical services. The intention was to provide them with the necessary tools to integrate fully into society as autonomous citizens. However, these efforts were not always sufficient.
The impact of this transition resonated deeply across all sectors of society. Some former slaves took advantage of their freedom to forge an independent and prosperous future, establishing small communities and businesses. Others, trapped in poverty and lacking opportunities, found it hard to escape the shadows of their past. Society also experienced internal tensions: former masters had to adapt to a new reality, while the working classes saw the freed slaves as direct competition in an already saturated labor market.
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Despite the difficulties, the liberation of the slaves marked a milestone in the country's history, highlighting both the challenges and the possibilities of building a more just society. Although the road to equality was arduous and filled with obstacles, the decision to free the cabeluces left an invaluable lesson: true freedom must be accompanied by dignity, opportunities, and a support network that allows each individual to thrive as a full member of society.
Fausto went on to explain that eradicating social unrest and racism wasn’t as complicated as one might imagine. Slavery was not a common practice among middle-class citizens, which offered an optimal opportunity to abolish it completely. Although some labor sectors were harmed by this measure, the state took care to compensate those affected to mitigate the losses.
However, not everyone welcomed the new law. For those who refused to comply, the government took a firm and severe stance. Slavery, or any form of deprivation of freedom against a citizen, was declared a serious crime, punishable by imprisonment for up to twenty years. On such delicate matters, there was no room for weakness or indulgence.
Nearly fifty people were imprisoned for refusing to grant freedom to the cabeluces, a stark reminder that justice had to prevail over resistance to change. Fausto, convinced of the necessity of these actions, stated that the firmness of the state had been key to consolidating a more just and equitable society.
"Every citizen is free from the moment they are born."
Taking the opportunity, Lexter asked about a historical figure who had piqued his curiosity, the leader in question.
"Since we're on the topic, I’d like to ask: What happened to the revolutionary Celeste Villordo?"
Fausto chuckled with a hint of complicity at the question.
"I’m still in touch with her. In fact, the company Forreza, now renamed 'Gabrielo,' I admit I had something else on my mind when I named it, is one of the companies she co-owns. Also, she recently became a mother. She told me she named her child after me... I won’t lie, it made me feel a little embarrassed."
Lexter couldn't help but laugh at the situation but soon shifted the conversation to a topic that deeply intrigued him: "your name."
"When you came here and told us that shocking story about your childhood, a question slipped my mind. If you don’t mind, of course."
"Not at all, go ahead," Fausto replied, smiling with curiosity.
"It’s about your name. Why are you called Joaquín Gabriel Fernández Fausto and not Joaquín Fausto Gabriel Fernández, or Gabriel Fernández Joaquín Fausto? Why that peculiar order of your name?"
"Is that so?" Fausto laughed heartily. "It’s a style. Since I can remember, I've always scrambled my name. My parents got tired of correcting me. I still remember my private tutor trying to teach me to write my last name first, then my first name. It didn’t work. It’s just a weird habit of mine, and I guess I never wanted to give it up."
Lexter smiled and, with a mix of wit and apparent laziness, formulated his next question:
"In this 'realm,' I usually ask personal questions to the interviewees to show the listeners that those they view as 'strangers,' whether they're businesspeople, politicians, or presidents, are human just like us. It's a way to generate closeness and empathy."
"I understand. What do you need to know?" Fausto responded, curious.
"Your relationship with your wife, the current president of the Seven Republics, if it doesn't make you uncomfortable. What was your life like before you got married? What drew you to her?"
Fausto gave a slight, uncomfortable smile, aware that he needed to be careful with his words, especially since he knew Karen was listening.
"Well, honestly, I’d rather keep some details about her to myself until she feels ready to share her story. What I've shared on your program was with her permission, as, for me, she was a crucial pillar during that nightmare."
"I understand," said Lexter in a respectful tone.
"For me, she..." Fausto paused, lost in thought. The moments he had lived with Karen, from the most insignificant to the most emotional, flashed through his mind. Gradually, his nervousness and the discomfort of choosing the right words began to fade.
"For you?" Lexter pressed, breaking the silence.
Fausto smiled and sighed deeply.
"For me, Karen is the best thing that ever happened to me. Without her, I probably wouldn't have come this far. She was an essential pillar in my growth and maturation, just like my parents and siblings. She's the person I fell deeply in love with; she's beautiful and smart, smarter than me or you. She supported me unconditionally when I was president and made my burden feel lighter. Because, let's be honest," he said, addressing the listeners, "leading seven nations is a tough task, physically and mentally. It's stressful, and often things happen that are beyond your control."
Fausto paused briefly and, in a more reflective tone, added:
"If you want to be president, you need two things: patience and cunning. And I can boast that I have them, partly thanks to the particular life I had to live. But, had I not been with someone like Karen, I'm sure I would have fallen into the mistake of feeling immortal."
Then, Fausto looked at Lexter with a serious expression, but one filled with emotion.
"I don’t know if this answers your question. But to me, she is everything. She is my world, and the love of my life. She could have chosen anyone far better than me, in intellect and appearance, but she chose me. I might be a fool many times, but she is the person I want to show my silliness, my mistakes, and my imperfections to. And I can say, after being married to her for several years, that I still love her with more intensity than the first time I said, 'I do.'"
On the other side of the radio, while many people were listening to the emotional confession, Karen, who was at the government house signing papers related to future bills, had begun to get distracted when she heard Lexter's question about her. At first, she didn’t pay much attention and continued with her work, but as Fausto poured his heart out on the radio station called "Can You Hear Me, Lexter?", she slowly stopped working, unconsciously paying more attention to what he was saying.
A mix of emotions began to flood her as she listened to every word from her husband. Next to her, her vice president, Amanda Ventura, who was helping her with her tasks, couldn’t help but comment when she saw Karen’s reaction.
"I wish my husband would say something like that about me."
Karen couldn't help but smile like a fool at every word Fausto spoke, feeling how the love he expressed for her in public resonated deep in her heart.
When Fausto finished speaking, the interview continued as usual. The questions ranged from personal to political, forming a balance that kept the listeners’ interest. In the end, Lexter closed with one last question:
"Would you be president again?"
Fausto smiled calmly before responding:
"I see that as very distant. I would only do it if I considered it absolutely necessary. For now, I just want to take things easy."
Lexter nodded with admiration.
"That's a noble answer."
With that comment, the program came to an end.
"Well, we’ve reached the end. Thank you for joining us, Mr. Gabriel."
"No, thank you for having me back," Fausto replied.
"A pleasure, as always. I’m Lexter Frederick, from Station 91. Thank you for choosing us, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the same time."
After the farewell words, Fausto stood up from his seat and shook Lexter’s hand before leaving the room. Outside, a crowd of admirers awaited, eager for an autograph or simply to catch a glimpse of him. As he stepped out of the station, thousands of voices chanted his name. Fausto, ever polite, merely waved and smiled before getting into his carriage and leaving.
The night wore on, and after several hours of travel, Fausto finally arrived at the government house. Rain had begun to fall, and the fresh air carried the scent of wet earth. The darkness of the night was punctuated by the soft glow of street lamps, giving the scene a melancholic, beautiful atmosphere.
Hastily, Fausto exited the carriage and ran toward the main entrance. He knocked on the large wooden door, and was quickly greeted by one of the servants, who welcomed him warmly.
"Welcome, sir."
Fausto nodded in gratitude and made his way directly to his wife’s office. Karen was still working, as she always did, gazing out the immense window. Rain slid down the glass, casting reflections that filled the space with a serene stillness. This time, Ventura was not present; the work was done, as efficiently as always.
Fausto stopped at the threshold of the office, unable to take another step. His eyes rested on Karen, who stood motionless in front of the large window. The rain twisted down the glass, creating fleeting shapes that mirrored the soft light from the desk lamp. Her figure, gently illuminated, radiated a mix of strength and fragility that left him breathless.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"I listened to the radio."
Karen’s voice struck him like a bolt of lightning. A chill ran down his spine as he desperately searched for the right words.
"And... what... what did you... think?" he stammered.
Karen didn’t respond immediately. Her silence hung heavily in the air, but when she spoke, her voice was deep, as if every word had torn through her soul.
"When Mr. Rivas saved us..." her voice was a whisper, as if each word cost her an internal battle, "I knew right then that I had nowhere to go. No one was waiting for me, no one was searching for me. During those days we were trapped, I couldn’t stop dreaming of the atrocities I had seen... and the things I had done to survive."
Fausto stepped forward, his expression turning serious.
"The faces of the people I loved, of those I cared about..." Karen continued, her gaze fixed on the window. "I see them in dreams. They torment me. When your parents opened their home to me, for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel completely alone. They were so warm to me that I couldn’t help but feel at ease... but I always wondered: Do I really deserve this? Do I deserve a family after everything I’ve done?"
Fausto moved cautiously, getting close enough to see how her hands trembled. Karen was struggling with all her might to maintain her composure, but her voice began to crack.
"The lives I took... their smiles, their faces... little by little, I’m forgetting them. I only remember them as monsters who wanted to devour me. I can barely recall my dad’s voice... or the laughter of my friends... before the infected took them from me."
Fausto couldn’t bear it anymore. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly from behind, as if trying to keep her together before she shattered into a thousand pieces. Karen, unable to hold back any longer, collapsed into tears.
"Karen..." he murmured, with a warmth reserved only for her. "You deserve all the good things in this life. None of what happened was your fault, nor mine, nor anyone else’s. It was the fault of the infected, and thanks to everyone’s efforts, they’ll never return. Our child, who’s growing in your belly, will live in a world where he’ll never have to fear them. We’ll make this nation a place where our children, and their children, can run free and happy, without fear."
Karen slowly turned to look at him. Her eyes were red, but there was a spark of hope in them that Fausto would never forget.
"As I told you... if you hadn’t been in my house that day, if I hadn’t met you... I would have died a long time ago. Whether by the infected, by disease, or simply from hunger. Karen... you saved me."
Fausto gently took her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart.
"All of this is yours, my love. My soul, my being, my life. I love you with all my heart, Karen Samanta Freeman, and no matter what happens... it will always be this way."
She, moved to tears, kissed him deeply, so painfully and emotionally that the seconds felt like hours. When the kiss ended, Fausto held her so tightly that it seemed as though he feared the world might try to separate them.
"I love you too, Joaquín Gabriel Fernández Fausto," she whispered, teasing him just a little. "Now and forever."
Karen smiled, her sweetness lighting up the entire room.
"Thank you for saving my life."
Fausto, on the verge of tears, caressed her face and responded with a smile only she could draw from him.
"Always."