The Situation Room
(Excerpt from “Conspiracy!”
by S.A. Gorman and S.J. Curwick)
The State Department’s Chief of Protocol is observing what sounds to be a very heated
argument between two four-star generals. An
Old Bulldog of a General with a team of like-minded generals
beside him is bent over the table yelling at a Younger General with his
own team of like-minded generals on his side.
“Your plan’s not working,” the Old Bulldog General barks. “If you
want regime change, we need to go in!”
“That’s not how we do it
anymore, Jack,” the Younger General says. “Regime change is no longer
accomplished by boots on the ground-”
“Because
that’s war...” the Chief of Protocol reminds everyone.
The Younger General accepts the State
Department’s interruption as par
for the course and continues.
“If
you want regime change,” the Younger General explains, “you start
with your NGOs to foment discontent with the
current regime, while simultaneously encouraging partnership with
Western interests...”
“Democracy
promotion,”
the Protocol Chief offers, helpful.
“...then you orchestrate
the overthrow of the existing government...”
“Democratic
Uprising,”
the PC corrects.
“...which leads to
elections in the square...”
“which
is not a coup,” the PC makes clear.
“...then we recognize
the newly elected regime...”
“the
legitimate government,” the PC adds.
“...and then they invite us in,” the Younger General says, giving the Old Bulldog General a condescending smile. “We give them
IMF loans and they open up the country to
Western investors. We can frack, bring in GMO
crops, build nuclear power plants...whatever you want...and no one can say “boo”
because it’s just two democratic countries enjoying the benefits
of the Free Market.”
The Old Bulldog General folds his arms and
gives the Younger General a well-seasoned smile.
“And how’s that working
out for you?”
He looks down at the electronic map between them.
“Because from here, it looks like the farmers in the North don’t much care for your
fracking and frankenfood...and have picked up their pitch-forks and shovels...”
“which
makes them terrorists,”
the PC points out.
“...and
are beating the shit out of your little band of Nazi mercenaries and drafted
high school students-”
“the
People’s Army,” the PC corrects.
“...driving them all the
way back to the town square, where they were ‘elected’...”
“the
recognized government,” the PC reminds.
“...and
where ‘the People’s Army’ is now holed-up, cowering like little girls, waiting for
someone to swoop in and rescue them,” the Old Bulldog General says, handing the Younger General’s condescending smile right
back to him. “While you sit on the
sidelines and watch your five year, five billion dollar NGO project go down the
drain!”
The Old Bull Dog General
gets right in the Younger General’s face.
“So, if you want to
frack this fucker, you better do
something…and quick!”
The Younger General has visibly deflated during the course of the
Old General’s verbal onslaught.
He answers in a measured
voice.
“You think we don’t want
to do something? You think we wouldn't just loooove
to go in there with a full brigade of American troops-”
“Nato forces,”
the PC reminds.
“...Nato forces,” the
Younger General restates, “backed by airstrikes...”
“which
is not boots on the ground,” the PC adds, just to be clear.
“...and drive those
farmers-”
“the
terrorists,”
the PC adds, helpful.
“...back into their
barns?!” the Younger General says, finally completing his thought.
The Younger General gets
right back in the Old Bulldog General’s face.
“Hell! If it were up to
me, Jack, I’d line the friggin’ eastern border with American troops-”
“Nato
Forces,” the PC corrects.
“Nato Forces...” the Younger General
restates, through gritted teeth.
“Peacekeeping
mission - still not boots on the ground,” the PC reminds
everybody.
The Younger General
continues with his point.
“…then plop down a big ‘open for business’
sign and invite corporate America to the housewarming party!”
“Western
investment to bolster their economy,” the PC adds, cheerfully.
The Younger General
turns to the Old Bulldog General.
“…but then, Mother
Russia looks up and sees a bunch of Nato troops parked on her border, and
rightly figures the next thing she’ll see is a U.S. military base-”
“American
Embassy,” the PC corrects.
The Old Bulldog General
and the Younger General both turn on the PC.
“Oh, shut up!”
The State Department Protocol Chief humbly puts up his hands.
“Just
here to observe...”
The Younger General gives the Old Bulldog General a sober look.
“Russia’s
gonna have something to say about troops on her border, Jack...and
she’s gonna say it with short range nuclear missiles pointed right at the EU.
Then we’re just one “fuck you” away from World War III and full on Nuclear
War.”
“Still
not boots on the ground!” the PC interjects, just sayin’.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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