What began as curiosity around James Rivera had slowly turned into something else a mix of awe and dread.
Every round, he wasn't just winning.
He was dominating.
James stood at the prep station for Round Four.
Professor Franklin watched him from the stands, arms crossed, eyes squinting slightly like she still couldn't believe how far the kid from Midbridge had come.
His opponent this round?
Liam Patel from a mid-tier state college in Ohio.
A soft-spoken senior who looked like he'd rather be solving logic puzzles in his dorm room than facing off against a walking philosophy quote generator.
"Hey," Liam said, walking up to shake his hand.
"Hey. You ready for this?" James asked, friendly.
Liam adjusted his tie nervously. "Uh… I guess."
"Cool. Let's have a good one," James said with a warm smile that masked the absolute rhetorical devastation he was about to deliver.
The motion was revealed moments later:
"This house believes that universal basic income should replace traditional welfare systems."
James drew Con.
Liam was Pro.
The moment the timer began, James leaned back in his chair, tabs flicking open in his mind economic models, case studies, pilot programs, critiques, academic white papers.
UBI?
A classic.
He'd read through mountains of arguments in both directions already, and now, he was just excited to cook.
Fifteen minutes later, Liam stood to deliver his opening statement.
"Universal basic income," Liam began, "represents a fairer future. Instead of bureaucratic layers and complicated eligibility forms, it offers everyone regardless of status a chance to survive with dignity."
He cited the Finland pilot.
Talked about economic automation.
Mentioned the psychological freedom of guaranteed income.
It wasn't bad.
It was… okay.
But when James walked up to the podium, it was like watching a stormcloud approach a birthday picnic.
"I appreciate Liam's optimism," he began, smiling softly. "Truly. The idea of everyone receiving money unconditionally is appealing. But let's not confuse idealism with economic feasibility."
He snapped his fingers.
"First cost. A full UBI in the U.S. would run over $3 trillion annually. That's not a budget line. That's a black hole. Unless you're planning to cancel defense spending, Medicare, Social Security, and every infrastructure program, you're running on vibes and TikTok economics."
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
"Second UBI doesn't address inequality. It equalizes survival, not opportunity. The rich still hoard assets. The poor still lack mobility. All you've done is universalize the paycheck, not the ladder."
He leaned in, lowering his voice slightly.
"And third the moral hazard. Replace traditional welfare with UBI and you eliminate targeted support. Need-based aid becomes impossible. What happens to the disabled? The chronically ill? Veterans? You're giving everyone the same when not everyone needs the same."
He paused.
"And let's talk Finland. Yes, the pilot showed happier participants. But it was short-term, under 2,000 people, and didn't prove labor market impact. It proved people like free money. Which we knew already."
He straightened.
"Welfare reform is necessary. UBI as a replacement? That's not reform. That's intellectual escapism."
By the end of his rebuttal, Liam looked like he was shrinking in real-time.
His counter was short, halting he tried to mention Yang's Freedom Dividend and suggested replacing tax subsidies with UBI.
James stood again and simply dismantled each point.
"Yang's plan depended on a VAT that disproportionately hits the poor. And subsidies for corporations? Those are already under fire. You want to replace one flawed system with an underfunded dream and call that justice?"
Final score: James 97. Liam 65.
One more to go.
By the time Round Five rolled in, James was loose.
Casual.
Like a lion who's already eaten but wouldn't mind another snack.
His opponent Naomi Keller, a transfer student from a private Christian college in Texas.
She was tall, composed, and clearly had been told she was good her whole life.
She had the posture of someone who thought she could surprise him.
James was more than happy to be surprised.
The motion?
"This house believes that morality has no place in foreign policy."
James drew Pro.
He smiled.
Naomi opened, arguing against the motion with calm poise.
She talked about the importance of humanitarian values, America's moral leadership, and the role of ethics in building long-term alliances.
It was heartfelt.
James waited patiently, nodding.
Then stepped up.
"Morality," he began, "is the sugar coating we give to policy that would otherwise taste like coercion."
Murmurs.
"I'm not here to say values don't matter. I'm saying they don't drive foreign policy. Interests do. Always have, always will. Every time a nation intervenes, it weighs cost, strategic gain, and public perception. Morality? That's what we paint on the bomb after it's launched."
A sharp intake of breath from the audience.
He continued. "Let's take examples. Iraq 2003 sold as liberation, but driven by strategic oil interests and post-9/11 retaliation fever. Rwanda 1994? No intervention. Why? No strategic interest. Where was morality then?"
He turned to the judges.
"And look at current Ukraine policy. Sanctions? Aid? Sure. But it's not because of human rights alone. It's about preserving NATO relevance, checking Russian aggression, and projecting Western dominance."
Naomi attempted a rebuttal.
"Don't we have a responsibility to lead with values?"
James nodded. "We do. But we don't. And pretending we do creates hypocrisy. We fund regimes that violate rights daily because they're allies. We denounce others because they aren't."
He held up a quote on the screen.
"A country has no permanent friends or enemies, only permanent interests."
"And that's still true."
Naomi scrambled to point out international cooperation, treaties based on values.
James nodded again. "Treaties built on mutual interest. Values only matter when they align with goals. Otherwise, they're set aside."
He leaned into the mic.
"Foreign policy isn't a sermon. It's a chess game. And moral absolutism? That's checkmate in two."
The hall fell completely still.
By the time Naomi's closing remarks landed, she looked more like someone praying for grace than aiming for a win.
James ended his speech with.
"We must stop lying to ourselves. Morality is not foreign policy. It is the costume foreign policy wears to look respectable at dinner."
The audience exploded.
Professor Franklin stood up.
Judges stared at each other.
The final tally was almost redundant.
James: 98. Naomi: 64.
He stepped backstage.
Tossed his blazer over his chair.
Took a long sip of water.
"Five-zero," Franklin said.
James cracked his neck. "Felt like target practice today."
"You know what comes next?"
He nodded. "Quarterfinals. The real bloodbath."
She smiled. "You hungry?"
"Hungrier than ever."