by Adam Yoshida
“I could never have admitted under the old right-wing governments that ran this country,” explained the Justice Minister to the black tie crowd, “what we now admit to the world in the re-branding of this museum. The attacks of September 11th, 2001 were a tragedy, whatever motivated them and whoever staged them, but they should never have been viewed or treated in isolation. Instead, they were a powerful testimony to the effects of exclusion and how the United States’ long-standing record of oppression, both at home and abroad, could have powerful consequences for individuals who were, in their personal lives, at least blameless.”
“Where the old September 11th Museum was a monument to American jingoism and exceptionalism, the new monument and the new Federation Museum of Exclusion will document the sad history of oppression that marked the entire existence of the old United States and tell the narrative of how we, those who suffered the worst oppression under the old system, gained our freedom.”
The crowd applauded the Minister’s worlds politely, if perhaps without much enthusiasm.
“Of course, today I speak amidst a continuing struggle for the freedom of all of us from those who wish to restore the former era of oppression. It isn’t enough - though my colleagues the High Commissioner and Minister Ransom are ably taking up the duty - to defend us from the external military aggression that we face. It is also necessary to recognize that we face enemies within from those who wish to reassert old power of privilege and refuse to recognized that unearned wealth and privileges gained at birth are inherently oppressive.”
“I have, as the provisional Minister of Justice, already taken strong action against those radical anti-woman, anti-minority, anti-poor, anti-Earth, anti-justice forces that still exist within our society and I vow to you that, in the name of the Museum that we are here to dedicate today, that I will not relent in this effort no matter the pressures that I might face to do so. I hope that you will be with me in this cause. Certainly, as the Minister of Justice, I would say that there can be no better sign among those who are still struggling to show that they have a proper place in the new order and that they do not require rehabilitation than open display of support for institutions such as this.”
The organizers of the gala were surprised when, despite the economically-troubled times, the receipts for the evening came in at three and a half times what they had expected.
Vancouver, British Columbia, United Western Republic
“You can bring a great tragedy to a much swifter end, Prime Minister,” explained General Jackson as he sat in a comfortable lounge chair in the office of the leader of the United Western Republic.
Prime Minister Christopher Kent was the leader of the governing Conservative Party. Prior to the Canadian Civil War, Kent had been a member of the Federal Parliament in Ottawa and the Minister of Industry under the previous government. A grey-haired man his fifties, he was the epitome of the old establishment. Kent and his Conservatives ruled together with the members of the Liberty Party, which had been founded by Jackson and his allies in the aftermath of the creation of the Republic.
“Now, General,” said the Prime Minister, “we’ve had this discussion before. There’s simply no public appetite for such a move here. In fact, it is largely due to the rumours circulating that we’re planning just such a move that the Progressive Coalition has been winning by-elections. In fact, they’re now the largest faction in the House of Commons, even if our Coalition has more seats combined. This is very dangerous talk.”
“Prime Minister,” replied Jackson, “this war is going to be over sooner or later. And America is going to win. When that happens, there’s going to be a reckoning. Which side do you want to be on?”
“Look,” said Kent, “I’ve always been a friend of the United States. So are most Westerners. But we have no desire for another war. We’ve just rebuilt a lot of our cities and many are still mourning the dead of the last war. We’re getting enough flack for allowing your volunteer force to recruit within the West and for allowing you to take such a large part of our military and use it to support the American cause.”
“I’m sorry, General, it’s just not happening,” said the Prime Minister.
“I’m sorry as well,” said General Jackson, extending his hand.
.
After leaving the Prime Minister’s office, General Jackson and Colonel Benson walked down the hallway directly to the office of Nate Anderson, the Leader of the Liberty Party and, in theory, the second man in the government of the United Western Republic.
“Bill!” said Nate, who had been a colleague of the General’s when he had been a member of the British Columbia Legislative Assembly and, before that, had gone to high school with him.
“Nate, it’s great to see you,” said General Jackson as the Leader of the Liberty Party walked up to him and awkwardly hugged him.
“We’ve been following your record down there super-closely,” said Anderson as he walked the General over towards his desk.
“That’s good to hear,” said Jackson, “great to hear, actually.”
“What can I do for you today?” asked Anderson.
“Can we talk somewhere privately?” asked Jackson.
“Sure, sure,” said Anderson, “I know a place around the corner.”
A few minutes later the General and the Leader of the Liberty Party had quietly retired to a bar, where they sat quietly in a booth, nursing a whisky.
“Alright,” said Anderson, “how can I help?”
“I need you to help America win the war,” said Jackson.
“I’d love to do so,” said Anderson, “but I’m not so sure how I would go about doing that.”
“The majority of the Conservative and Liberty Party caucuses are in favour of getting into the war. Those that aren’t can be brought along. There are plenty of ways that we can do that. The problem is the Prime Minister himself,” said Jackson.
“Well, you’ll get no disagreement from me on that point,” replied Anderson.
“But that can be overcome,” continued the General.
“With all due respect,” said Anderson, “I’m not really sure how exactly that could be done. He’s got the leadership of the Conservative Party locked right on down.”
“He does,” agreed Jackson, “but that doesn’t mean everything. He doesn’t have close to a majority in the House without your votes.”
“I’ve spoken to many members of the Conservative caucus. They’re not happy with him at all,” said Anderson, “even if they’re not prepared to challenge his leadership directly.”
“Exactly,” said Jackson, “but if something were to knock him off his throne and if appropriate fundraising were available, then everything would be up for grabs, including the Prime Minister’s office. It would be available to anyone with the courage and the strength to take it.”
“True, but…” said Anderson, trailing off.
“Isn’t there a budget vote coming up tomorrow?”
.
Before the Canadian Civil War, James Beauregard had been one of the four Liberal members of the Alberta Legislature. During that conflict he had initially hedged his bets, but quickly changed sides as it became universally obvious that, at an absolute minimum, both British Columbia and Alberta would never return to the Canadian Confederation. That early shift of loyalties had been enough to secure him a place both within a Western provisional government that was eager to show that it was not an exclusively partisan affair and then within the permanent government of the United Western Republic once the first national elections were held. His Progressive Party had actually managed to gain seats during the second national elections that had been held within the Republic. In fact, they were actually the largest single party within the House of Commons, even if the combined numbers of the Conservative-Liberty Party coalition were far larger than those of his caucus alone.
The gains of the Progressives in the last election and been partially caused by vote splitting on the right, as the Conse
rvatives and the Liberty Party had been unable to agree on common candidates in a large number of constituencies, but it was also something of a reversion to the mean among Western voters who, now further removed from the immediate trauma of the energy crisis and Federal oppression that had brought on secession, cast their votes over more prosaic concerns. Beauregard: handsome, young, and always smiling on camera alongside his equally beautiful wife made a picture-perfect leader for the left. He was always carefully moderate and was fully willing to ride almost any populist wave that drifted on by. It was almost universally-acknowledged that he’d be Prime Minister of the UWR one day. Perhaps not in the next election, but certainly no later than the one after that.
Or perhaps, he thought, much, much sooner than that.
The vote on the supplemental budget for the Department of Culture was supposed to be routine. Libertarians didn’t like that the Western Republic even had such a department - it smacked of the hated CBC and the other institutions that they had managed to drive out during the war - but the Conservatives ran the government and the Western Conservatives shared an awful lot of DNA with the Canadian Conservatives from which they were descended, meaning that they were usually willing to compromise core principles rather than making a fuss.
But that’s certainly not what Nate Anderson is doing today, thought Beauregard.
“Is this what we went to war for - what men and women died for from Vancouver to Thunder Bay?” roared Beauregard.
“This is enough,” continued the Liberty Party Leader, “this is quite simply enough. For too long we have tolerated compromise over core issues and we have sacrificed our principles for power. As the great cause of liberty has been contested here and all around the world, we have chosen to sit silent and still.”
“If that is not clear enough, let me make myself very plain: I will be voting no on this measure. I expect that my friends will be doing the same. I encourage the Prime Minister and the government to likewise join us in rejecting the sort of big government nonsense that we fought a war to rid ourselves of.”
Jackson sat down and the Speaker stood up.
“The Right Honourable, the Prime Minister,” announced the Speaker.
Prime Minister Kent stood up and buttoned his suit coat.
“Mr. Speaker,” he began, “I must begin, of course, by noting that I am very surprised by this sudden turn of events. The Member for Burnaby South is, of course, a valued Ministerial colleague and he did not indicate to me prior to this session the course that he would be taking today. That is a surprise indeed. However, I am confident in the virtue of this measure and know that it is universally supported by sensible and moderate opinion in this House and in the country.”
The Prime Minister looked across the House towards Beauregard as he spoke, locking eyes with him.
“And I am confident that those who consider themselves to be defenders of moderation and sensible government will find it in themselves, whatever their party affiliation, to sustain this particular measure. Going forward, of course, it may be that the events of this day will require us to reconsider the composition of the government or to take other similarly-dramatic measures, but that can and should wait until we have had some time for sensible and sober contemplation of this unexpected state of affairs.”
“I move that the House now vote on the measure that has been laid before it,” concluded the Prime Minister.
“Very well,” announced the Speaker, “hearing no objection, all of those in favour say aye.”
Most of the members on the Conservative benches called out their approval, while the Liberty Party members remained silent. It took a second for it to dawn upon the Prime Minister and the members on the Conservative side to realize that the Progressives had also been silent.
“All opposed?” called out the Speaker.
“Nay!” screamed the Libertarians and Progressives, who represented an overwhelming majority of the House.
“The nays have it,” announced the Speaker.
The Conservative whips jumped to their feet to called for a roll call vote as the Prime Minister slumped, ashen-faced into his chair.
.
“Excellent,” announced Nate Anderson as he walked into the Legislative offices used by the Liberty Party, “as soon as it becomes clear that Beauregard and the Progressives don’t have the votes to form a government, then the President will have to call upon me and I think that we’ll be able to get enough Conservative votes to make a go of things. Then we’ll see some real change in this country…”
Anderson stopped mid-sentence and fixed his eyes on a television screen that carried an image of James Beauregard standing with a half-dozen Conservative members of the House - and one Liberty Party member - standing behind him.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Anderson, stabbing his finger into the air in the direction of the TV. Those around him remained silent. Some deliberately looked away.
“What the fuck!” said Anderson, stalking over towards where the television was mounted and turning up the volume.
“…we have to think about the need for a stable government, especially at a time of so much international tension,” explained one of the Conservative MPs.
“And you’ll be voting to keep a Progressive government in power?” asked one of the reporters.
“I think that this is a time where we have to look beyond partisanship,” said one of the MPs.
“Fuck!” screamed Anderson as he drove his fist into the television, mildly injuring his hand.
.
“It was a clever plan,” said Colonel Benson comfortingly as the plane that she and General Jackson were taking back to California prepared for takeoff, “even if it didn’t work out in the end.”
“Who said that it didn’t work?” replied General Jackson with a smirk.
.
It was after midnight when James Beauregard, newly-designated as the Prime Minister of the United Western Republic, made his way home. He wasn’t quite fully the Prime Minister yet - the President had asked him to form a government and he had accepted, but he had yet to either choose a team of Minister or to be properly sworn in - and so he still had only the sort of security afforded to the Leader of the Opposition of a relatively small country. That meant that he had a bodyguard and a driver and not much else and even those left at the end of the day most days. Only the President of the United States and a handful of others in modern democracies travel with a convoy of retainers more suitable to a Roman Emperor than a democratic statesman.
“Don’t be frightened,” said a voice from the darkness of the living room of Beauregard’s townhouse.
“Who the fuck are you?” demanded Beauregard.
“No one you know,” answered the man. Beauregard turned on the lights in the room to find a bald middle-aged man of average size sitting on his couch.
“What do you want?” said the Prime Minister-designate, stepping warily forward into the room.
“I want to talk about your future,” said the man.
“Ok,” said Beauregard, moving into the living room and taking a seat in a giant plush recliner.
“In a few days, you’ll be the Prime Minister and I think that’s great. It’s rare for so young a man to advance so far as quickly as you have. I’m fearful, though, that there are things that could bring your bright and brilliant career to a sudden and shocking end.”
The man grabbed a file-folder and tossed it down on the coffee table that stood between them. Beauregard picked it up and began to look inside. It was filled with big 8x10 pictures of him and women. A lot of them.
“The… interests… that I represent are very diverse, Prime Minister,” explained the man, “and they own a great many businesses. Some of them they’re quite up front about. Some of them, on the other hand, they control through many, many layers of subterfuge… for obvious reasons. Your favourite escort service being one of them.”
Beauregard threw the folder back down on the table.
“About the hookers in and of itself? Well, some might,” said the man, “but you’re right: most probably won’t. However, I think that what they will care about is how many of them were underage.”
Beauregard went white.
“This was an open - government-regulated, in fact - service,” he said.
“Yes,” agreed the man, “it certainly was. And the people that we hired to ran it ran a very clean shop. These girls in question - did I mention that the youngest was fourteen? - were run very much off-the-books for special clients such as yourself.”
“I didn’t know - and couldn’t possibly have known anything about that,” said Beauregard defensively.
“Well, perhaps you can sell that case to the electorate - and to the public prosecutor’s office. I’ve seen the video that we have of the girl’s - the fourteen year-old, I mean - version of this particular story. She is a very compelling witness.”
“I… This is awful,” said Beauregard, defeated.
“Yes, it is,” conceded the man, “but, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you know that the girls were all very well-paid. And the ones that we selected were, to put it mildly, hardly innocent. Let me put it this way: we didn’t introduce them into the industry. They were enthusiastic participants, both from our end and, I must say - based upon the videos that I’ve seen - so far as you were concerned as well.”
“What do you want? For me to resign? Fine, I’ll resign. Fuck, I mean - I haven’t even taken office yet. I’ll refuse the office,” said Beauregard.
“No, you misunderstand me, sir,” replied the man, “I want you to take office. And I want you to prosper. We are going to be great friends, Prime Minister.”
USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76), Near the Cape of Good Hope
