colophonxenophanes

[colophonxenophanes]

PART 5

By the end of the federal holiday weekend it had been six weeks since the military debacle at Snake River. The President had not dared to order another engagement, unsure if the forces under his command could win. Use of the Air Force and ballistic weapons was considered off the table, as such destruction would destroy the very resources that were sought and would, all agreed, lead to an all-out civil war.

Vegeara arrived at the Pentagon at 0425 hours, feeling very well-rested and anxious for what the General would have for him after hearing nothing from him for two days. It was a cold morning and the echoes along the deserted corridors seemed louder and more pronounced. The additional security personnel were not posted and Vegeara was able to make his way through the circuit of security doors with his ID card and fingerprints, making it all the way to the main office without seeing a soul. He was visibly shocked and gasped when he entered the main office and saw that the General was already there.

“Hello, Colonel Vegeara,” the General said calmly, “I appreciate you being prompt. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Yes, sir,” Vegeara managed. He was very unsettled by the General’s presence at this early hour. He was more unsettled to hear muffled voices from inside the General’s private office. He could not help but glance that direction. Almost on cue Colonel Brant emerged, looking very serious and severe, followed by two junior officers, a Lieutenant Colonel and a Major. Colonel Brant nodded at the General and Vegeara, then departed with his subordinates without saying a word.

“Sir,” spoke Vegeara, “may I ask what is going on here? I’ve been very perplexed the last several days. This seems highly irregular.”

The General betrayed uncharacteristic warmth as he looked at Vegeara. He approached and put a hand on his shoulder. “Colonel,” he said, “you’ve always been dedicated and loyal. I’ve come to depend on your steadfast support through the most difficult days of my career. These are uncertain times. I understand your concerns. But right now, I have to know, yes or no, whether I can count on you, no matter what?”

Vegeara was taken aback. The General never talked like this. He was all business, which is something Vegeara respected greatly. He did not know quite how to react to this emotional plea from such a great man.

“Of course, you can sir,” came the reply, almost without effort.

“Good. That’s what I thought. We leave in an hour for the White House. Don’t bring anything with you. I’ll brief you on the situation as soon as I can.” The General nodded and spun around to head inside his personal office.

An hour later Vegeara sat in a large, nondescript van, crammed against the tinted window, next to the General. The van was rated for twelve passengers, but there were sixteen confined inside. Colonel Brant and his two subordinates were there. As was the Chief of Staff of the Coast Guard, and several lower ranking officers from the Army and Marine Corps that Vegeara did not recognize. There was a second vehicle that departed immediately after them, but which had taken a different route. Vegeara had seen the Chief of the Air Force among that group. He assumed there must be an unscheduled meeting with all of the joint chiefs. This was odd, as typically such meetings were conducted from a secure facility at the Pentagon, over video interface. But this, he assumed, must be something unique.

The first rays of daylight broke across the gray sky as the van pulled up to the White House security gate. Traffic barriers recessed to permit them access. ID cards were presented and the van was directed in. Minutes later the entourage was through another security checkpoint and metal detectors at the entrance and filed inside. It was not yet 0600 and the east wing was empty, save for an occasional Secret Service agent. The General led the group directly to the DMIO. Vegeara had never been there, but he knew the layout from the schematics he had scene when assisting in arranging for the office space.

The General’s ID card and handprint permitted him access. The entire group of sixteen were ushered inside. The three personnel manning workstations inside scarcely batted an eye at the large group invading the space, as if they had been expected. Moments later there was a knock at the door, which Vegeara recognized as Morse code for the letter X. The General opened the door himself, admitting another ten military officers from all branches. The room was crowded, so much so that Vegeara could not tell who all of the men and women were, but he thought most of the acting Chiefs of Staff were there. They huddled together in a corner while the rest set about a choreographed process of setting up equipment and removing items from their uniforms.

Only one of the three men operating the surveillance system continued to do so, as the other two worked in concert with the group. Shortly, four desktop manufacturing machines were in operation. Metal buckles, buttons, medals, and pins were fed into the little devices. Within minutes they were cranking out pieces of magnesium machinery. A handful of the officers who had come with Vegeara worked an assembly line, snapping pieces into place as fast as the little machines could mold them. Vegeara’s heart sank as he saw the final product begin to take shape. By 0620 the group had managed to produce at least three functional 9mm handguns, complete with clips and ammunition. This should not have been possible according to Vegeara’s understanding of the technical capabilities. But the military intelligence and special forces specialists around him obviously knew more. Innocuous pieces of material, cigarette cases, watches, rings, all of it was melted down to raw materials, which mixed with compounds of magnesium and petroleum to produce a perfectly functional weapon.

While Vegeara grew uneasy with the situation, he marveled at the efficiency of the operation. What seemed like a mere moment after Vegeara realized they were making pistols, they were being distributed among the assembled group. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he was not offered a weapon. The General took two and the highest-ranking officers each tucked one inside their Class A jacket. The uniforms looked odd, missing much of their military decorations, but this would not be obvious to most civilians.

At 0632 one of the station operators shouted at a commanding tone, “POTUS is on the move!” informing the assembly that the president was en route to his office in the east wing. The General cleared his throat and spoke briefly to those near him. He then asked for silence as he, and most all present, bowed their heads in a brief prayer. At 0636 the General tapped Vegeara at his elbow and said, “Stay behind me.”

A minute later the assembly broke apart into three groups. The first group, made up of the joint chiefs and a few subordinates, headed by the General, made its way for the Oval Office, intent on being present before the President arrived. The second group was larger, mostly Colonels and some lower ranking officers, formed a ceremonial line, just down the hall. The third group left the area and disappeared to another part of the east wing. The entire operation appeared to be extremely well-coordinated. No one spoke a word and every action was precipitated by scarcely even a hand-signal or eye contact. Vegeara only considered for a moment his role in what he believed to be happening. He disdained politics and was not one to pay much attention to the news, save that which he was required to know to perform his duty. But he trusted the General instinctively, and if there was a mission to be accomplished, he’d gladly die in his service to accomplish it.

The Oval Office door was flanked by two Secret Service agents in black. Vegeara made eye-contact with the man on the right as he flowed in. He recognized him as the man who had met with the General and Colonels Brant and Mortenson just three days earlier. The man looked right through him, never betraying the slightest hint that they had seen one another before. The General’s group was hustled into the Oval Office and took calm, deferential positions far off from the President’s desk, feigning an air of submissiveness and benignity. 

Every person in the room was already standing at attention when the President entered. He was consumed in conversation with an aid, his eyes fixed on a stack of papers as he entered the room, scarcely seeming to notice the squad of eight generals and admirals that were arrayed to greet him. After the President entered, the door was closed behind him, by the Secret Service agent in black that had met with the General previously. The President dropped his papers on his desk and gulped down most of a bottle of chilled mineral water. Wiping his mouth, he finally turned to acknowledge his visitors, staring the General dead in the eye.

“Alright General,” quipped the President, “what is so urgent that I have to give up one of my off days to meet with you and your friends here?!”

For what felt like an eternity, there was no reply. The General stared at the president, at first with a blank, vacant poker face that betrayed nothing. But this shifted, to a visage of anger, but then sadness, as the General moved slowly and passively across the room.

“Mr. President,” the General choked up, fighting back the emotion of the moment, “I’m afraid it is my duty to inform you that I am placing you under arrest and relieving you of your duties as chief executive and commander in chief.” The words were perhaps the most monumental that had ever been uttered in that historic space. But they were stated with such plainness and neutrality that the president was incredulous to the point of confusion as he responded. 

“What’s that now? You’re going to do what?!”

In an instant all of the servicemembers in the room had drawn their pistols, as had the Secret Service agent. These were all pointed at the president and his advisor. Both slowly raised their hands, surrendering to the moment as much as to the cadre of armed men that immediately seized the room. Outside the door, a single shot was fired. Not the regular recoil of a standard weapon, but the explosion and crack of the artificial plastics of the homemade weapons. With hand signals and brief mumbles the office door was opened and a small group of cabinet officers was shoved in. One of the Marine Corps Colonels lifted a small radio to his ear, then barked to the General, “The vice-president is secure. We hold the castle. Reinforcements are on site.”

Scarcely twenty minutes later the General confirmed that his small group of operators, and a small contingent of augmentees had operational control of the White House. The President was indignant, but the sight of one of his guards, suffering the impact of a gunshot on his body armor, was enough to quash any meaningful protests. Without delay the President was shuffled back to the west wing to join his family, now under armed guard. The General paced as he awaited a series of coded messages, delivered via simple unlicensed HAM radios. Events moved quickly and by 1000 hours the General was ready to execute the next phase.

There was now a much more substantial military footprint in and around the White House, and spread throughout the capitol. A few soldiers escorted a camera crew into the Oval Office and monitored as they turned on lights and placed microphones. A television at the side of the room displayed images from across Washington, showing Army soldiers guarding various buildings, including the White House, but with no clear explanation as to why. Then, a breaking news update flashed that there would be a statement from the White House in the next few minutes.

The General wiped his brow and gathered some papers from his pocket, looking them over. He spoke to Colonel Brant, “Alright Dave. Let’s get on with it.”

Colonel Brant waved a hand and most of the military personnel exited the room. Vegeara began to follow them but the General pointed at him, directing him to stay. The civilian camera crew was quiet, displaying shock and discomfort at being among such a tense situation. When all of the equipment was in place they gathered together and looked to the officer that had escorted them. The camera operator signaled thumbs-up. “We are a go, sir,” said Colonel Brant.

The General sat up straight in the President’s chair, striking a strident, defiant pose, glaring intensely at the camera. All was quiet. At the side of the room, the cable news channel flashed an update, and in an instant the image of the General filled the screen. The camera operator counted down his fingers, three, two, one, then pointed at the General. The General showed no emotion and spoke plainly and calmly.

“My fellow Americans. I greatly regret having to address you today. Unfortunately, recent events left little choice, and I have taken an action unprecedented in our nation’s history.

“Earlier this morning, in concert with leaders from all branches of our military, I placed the President and Vice-President under arrest. Due to the unmitigated domestic crisis our nation has experienced for at least these past several months, I find that there was little choice but to remove the President from office and place the United States under the temporary control of the military. Accordingly, all members of the House and Senate present in Washington have been escorted to airports and directed to return to their states and districts. Those members already home should remain there. They and their staffs should not return to Washington for the time being.

“I am temporarily suspending the U.S. Constitution. All citizens should consider the nation technically under a state of martial law as of now. All domestic forces have been activated and are on alert to respond to any incidents of unrest or upheaval. I will temporarily function as head of state, for a period, which it is my hope, will not exceed ninety days. In that capacity, I am freezing all wages and prices. The machinery of federal and state government should proceed as normal, at least to the degree possible under the circumstances.

“The reason I have taken such extraordinary action is simply because it became clear that our federal government had ceased to function. Political civility had disappeared, abuse of power by the President and others had become untenable, and that led us to a state of actual civil war. It is my sincere hope that by my disbanding the government, temporarily, that the leaders of the Coalition of states will, as a show of good faith, ease their grip on domestic food production and assist the military in restoring the supply of the necessities of life to all of our citizens, including those in the largest cities and who now suffer from unprecedented scarcity.

“It is not my desire to the hold power over the nation. I took this desperate action only because it was clear that a much worse calamity was about to befall our great country. Within the last month, under the orders of the President, I was directed to install a permanent military intelligence office at the White House which was to be used to conduct domestic surveillance, focused on undermining any opposition to the President. In my view, this was not a step on the road to tyranny, but was, in fact, tyranny itself.

“I have no doubt that many who can hear the sound of my voice, and that history itself, may well judge me as a villain. I will accept the consequences of my actions and the judgment of history for what I have done today. But for the present moment, I have assumed the functions of chief executive, head of state, and commander in chief. I would warn the leaders of our fellow nation-states around the world not to attempt to take advantage of this unusual situation. Our forces stand ready and I will not hesitate to use overwhelming force to answer any belligerence or action aimed at destabilizing the U.S. or its allies. I urge you not to test me on this matter.

“Finally, to you, the American people, and to the governors and members of the state legislatures that represent you, as my last act this morning, I am calling a convention of states in accordance with Article Five of the U.S. Constitution, to convene in ten days. You, the citizens of the United States, and your state legislatures should make due consideration and select honorable, selfless, and committed delegates to attend this solemn event. It is my intent that, unless the representatives of the people determine otherwise, that whatever alterations to our form of national government are made, that a new federal election be held within ninety days and that those elected take power immediately. If, however, the nation is unable to come to terms and agree upon a path forward within ninety days, I will simply withdraw from this position, cede power back to the President, allow the previous Congress to resume, and let the states chart their own course into the future, whether it be peace, or war.

“My last admonition is this: I ask each and every one of you, please, pray for our nation. Ask almighty God to have mercy on us, forgive us our trespasses, and deliver us from evil.

“May almighty God bless all of you, and may God bless the United States of America.”

A dead silence gripped the entire nation for a long moment.

As the signal was cut, the weight of the undertaking was obvious on the faces of everyone assembled. The General closed his eyes for a long moment and breathed deeply. As the camera crew was escorted out the General rose, thanked them, and approached Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara, motioning him to take a seat at a nearby desk. The General produced two index cards with bullet points and notes written in pencil and handed them to Vegeara. He scanned them, then immediately went about the process of writing up a schedule for the General’s day. There was much work to be done.

END

[colophonxenophanes]

PART 4

Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara had hoped that the upcoming federal holiday would provide him some opportunity to rest and recover from the fevered pace of activity these past weeks and months. Certainly, he did not expect that he would have three full days off over the long weekend. He knew that was impossible, even under more favorable circumstances. But just a few extra hours of respite would be welcome and enable him to refocus his energies. 

In yet another unprecedented break with standard procedure, the General had pulled Vegeara aside and spoken to him out of the earshot of anyone else on the staff.  It was clear from his conduct and tone that it was not to be known that the General and Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara would be at work on the holiday. He was told, not offered, but told not to come in to the office over the weekend, but to arrive at the usual time on the Monday holiday.

This was disconcerting. Many members of the senior Pentagon staff expected to work seven days every week, and the acting Chairman more than others. As the General’s adjutant, he was expected to be on duty before, during, and after his commander. What possible reason could he have for requiring Vegeara to not come to the Pentagon that weekend? This was, after all, one of the most unprecedented times in U.S. history and military forces remained on high alert across the nation.

Only a year earlier the conflict had started before anyone had actually realized it. Everything happened below the observable surface until the world was suddenly forced to take notice. The initial reports were unexplained, but not uncommon, blips on the national security radar. Key aspects of the economy were always monitored, as was the energy grid, cyber space, the transportation system, anything that might be a target of a foreign power seeking to cause problems for the U.S. The disturbance was noticed, but not recognized as anything more than a minor dip in one of a thousand information streams.

Corn output to several processing facilities had come in significantly lower than forecasted, leading to a modest, yet sharp increase in price. Only the fact that this was so at multiple locations raised any concern. But, there had been no droughts, no recalls, no infestations, no wildfires, nothing that would have explained such a sudden and appreciable drop. As it was a single reporting period for a single commodity, it was merely noted and left alone. But it would not be the last such issue.

Not long after, a similar drop was noted in beef production. Soon after, pork, then poultry showed similar declines. Followed by soy beans, wheat, and then several staple vegetables. It was all a jumble of statistics and financial data, which as usual, produced a few winners and numerous losers from investments in the commodity futures market. Most in the investor class yawned at the swings and moved on to more interesting wagers on technology and consumer goods. But a relative few murmured, privately, and then quite loudly that there was some larger problem and that someone needed to figure out what was causing it.

It was only a matter of days before those responsible were ready to reveal themselves. Without any actual warning, amid a calm, unimpressive backdrop of nature, a group of governors faced the cameras and announced their plan to the world. The states represented in the group were numerous, but few of them very populous. They were uniformly states with significant rural populations and whose major industry was agriculture. The men and women that gathered in that group of rebels eschewed their normal garb of jackets and ties, opting instead for open collars and cowboy hats, insidious in their glaring contempt. The governors designated a single spokesman to speak for them all, a folksy, plainspoken moderate from one of the Great Plains states.

“My fellow Americans,” he began, “I don’t need to tell you that our country is in big trouble. Those of us who remember what our country was like a few decades ago know that it has changed a lot, and not for the better. Worse than that, it has become obvious to me and my fellow governors gathered here today that our political system is hopelessly broken, and that despite the greatest tradition of representative government in the world, the federal government of the United States no longer represents its people. A small, yet powerful cabal has managed to gain control of the entirety of the administrative state, and now has seized power over the entire federal government via illegitimate means. 

“The President, so called, and his party have so manipulated and abused their power that we, the duly elected governors of our states, have directed our representatives and senators not to participate in this illegitimate government. We simply cannot lend legitimacy to the regime that now holds power. We would remind all Americans, that it was the states that created the federal government, not the federal government that spawned the states. The regime in power has seized power illegitimately and appears determined to take our country down a path we cannot and will not permit it to go.

“Accordingly, we, the coalition of subjugated states, have just signed a compact by which we aim to force the President and his allies to cede power. Our demands are simple. The President, Vice President, and three newly added Supreme Court “justices” must resign unconditionally. The representatives certified by our states must be permitted to take their seats in Congress. Further, the electors so certified by all the states must be permitted cast their votes to elect the new President.”

The old governor paused, reflecting on the weight of his own words. “Accordingly, in order to deprive these illegitimate power brokers of their support structure, we have already taken steps, in coordination with our citizens, to dramatically reduce the rate of food production in our states. As of today, we have agreed to halt all shipments of food products, all meat, grain, fruits, vegetables, and dairy to a selected list of cities which represent the base of the regime’s power. While market distribution will continue within our states, and to regions unconnected to the President’s power base, we have blockaded several interstate highways, closed selected airports to all flight traffic, and put into place state military forces that will ensure that no domestic food products reach these cities. We encourage our brothers and sisters engaged in agricultural production in other states to join us in curbing production and restricting distribution, so as to sustain the rest of the nation, but cut off the identified cities.”

A map of the continental U.S. displayed the vast swath of territory that the Coalition claimed to exercise control over, and highlighted the dozen or so major cities that were to be deprived future food shipments. The Governor continued, “This blockade will continue indefinitely, unless and until our demands are met.”

The large group of governors gathered close together around their designated spokesman. “Let us offer a prayer to Almighty God, for our nation, all its people, and a quick end to this crisis.” The men and women joined hands and prayed in unison the Lord’s Prayer. The entire nation gasped.

Denunciations and critiques flew immediately. Within hours there was a national consensus that the governors were, in fact, domestic terrorists, and that their motivation was none other than obvious racism and white supremacy. The wealthy, liberal elite white people who controlled every aspect of the targeted big city and government centers of power proclaimed this without the slightest sense of irony. The President was on all media platforms within the hour, challenging his announced rivals, demanding an immediate end to their rebellion, and warning them of a decisive response if they carried forward. Polls and media agreed that the nation overwhelmingly supported the President.

Whatever the real goals of the coalition were, they did not have to wait long to see their efforts make purchase. Despite assurances from the federal government that it was not possible to disrupt the national food supply, and that there was sufficient food, cracks broke open almost immediately. In the largest targeted cities, prices began to rise, then double and triple, or more, on basic staples. While there was enough on hand to last weeks, even months, the pressure on the stores, bakeries, restaurants, and more took hold and squeezed them all. Within a week there were reports of rioting and looting in many areas of major cities. While an initial wave of poorer residents fled the cities to take their chances in unfamiliar country, most stayed, assuming that the President and his party would deliver for them. They were sadly disappointed. 

Roving mobs moved into wealthier areas and ransacked upscale shops, seeking to store up sufficient food for the now very real siege. The government claimed a decisive victory when it announced a quick end to the suffering, as it had secured an emergency influx of nutritious food from its international partners and the United Nations. This was flown into the country with ceremonial fanfare and met by the President himself, who rallied his supporters with chants of, “Help is on the way!”

When the big city residents received their rations and learned that it consisted primarily of protein-rich meat substitutes, including those made from refined insects, rioting and arson erupted. The short-term isolation of these major cities soon prevented resupply of gasoline, as coalition governors quietly diverted fuel trucks to their own states. As supply plummeted and prices skyrocketed for city dwellers, rural folks saw a glut of supply and historic lows.

Even before the bug-meat debacle, the President had been in consultation with the military about how to respond to this very real insurrection by inferior state executives. When it became clear that the Coalition would not relent and were willing to watch as urban populations starved and descended into utter chaos, the President announced that he had determined that at least some subgroup of these states represented a clear and present danger to the U.S., and thus he would undertake military action to resolve the situation.

In consultation with his hand-picked military advisors, a few relatively easily achievable objectives were selected. One was a small swath of a Midwest state that represented both an important travel corridor and had an abundance of farms and ranches that could be encircled and put back into full production. Another, closer to the west coast was a wide territory that could meet grain needs for months. The liberation of these targets would mean that at least a few of the suffering cities could receive an influx of real food and the growing calamity could be mitigated. Warnings were given and military forces were assembled and eventually deployed.

However, on arrival to their areas of operations, the operational commanders were stunned at the sight that greeted them. Overnight the owners of the targeted properties, and numerous others within the region, destroyed their crops and killed off their livestock to prevent their property from being taken. News videos flashed across all media formats, showing defiant country folks, arm in arm, setting mountains of product on fire and clenching defiant fists as they watched their fields burn. On farms and ranches across the nation, in New England, and near the Pacific Coast, individual farmers and ranchers engaged is a similar mass ritual sacrifice. The deep orange glow across the smoky skies of the fields on fire shone an ominous light on the President’s failures. Despite obvious signs of uncertainty, polling in the President’s favor remained strong.

In one of the last major events prior to the General’s appointment as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, another military operation was secretly planned. This time, without advanced warning, the government planned to deploy overwhelming forces to seize a large interior swath of fertile farm country. There was to be a contradictory movement of troops who would maneuver in a feint at a more obvious target, while airborne forces and recon forces overwhelmed the actual target. While it was hoped that such an operation could be carried out with very little bloodshed, it was understood that if the Coalition rebels fired at U.S. forces, there was no choice but to fire back and eliminate the enemy. It was at this point that whispers around Washington that the President might have to resign began to grow louder.

In the ultimate engagement to secure the target, the assault by U.S. forces along the Snake River did not go as planned. Tactical experts in the state militias recognized the feint for what it was and did not overcommit in resisting it. But this was nothing compared to the battlefield humiliation that resulted around the main target. U.S. forces sprang into action with an advantage in numbers approximately five to one over the state militias which opposed them. Early on in the engagement, it was clear the battle would not go well.

The U.S. troops, largely drawn from the new model army that had been assembled in recent years, lacked the fighting skill, cohesion, and discipline of earlier generations. The militias, made up of military veterans and supported by a vast force of armed civilians, were exceptional marksmen and fought desperately for their homeland. The advantages of defensive battle were made apparent as wave after wave of attacking federal forces failed to break the line. Despite every technical and technological advantage, the “pansy divisions” were stood up in every engagement and forced into tactical retreat. Where an obvious weakness was demonstrated, Coalition militia forces rallied to attack, breaking the federal lines and capturing massive amounts of equipment. In a scene reminiscent of the destruction of crops, military vehicles and equipment were gathered in heaps on the interstate highways and burned in front of lines of soldiers and civilians, a devastating photo op that led a brave few in the legacy media to question whether this was a conflict the President could win.

Every truthful observer recognized that the U.S. had now descended, once again, into a state of civil war. While only a single battle with minimal casualties had occurred, the line had been crossed and it seemed clear that there was no resolution to be had. The larger cities, in cooperation with some smaller cities, did their best to attend to their populations. But as food and gasoline diminished further, every city was forced to consider the needs of its own population first. As whispers of allies of the President grew louder, and more persistent, that he may not be the leader that was needed now, and that perhaps this conflict was unwinnable, drastic measures began to take shape.

In what was callously referred to as the Bloodbath, numerous senior leaders were forced out of the military or resigned, retired, or even left to join the Coalition. It was in this environment that the General was called upon to take over as the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and that the Domestic Military Intelligence Office was created. Its purpose, though no one knew it, was to watch those who claimed to be allies of the President, not his enemies.

[colophonxenophanes]

PART 3

The chasm between the liberal cities and traditional areas of the country had grown at a steady and increasing rate. The facts on the ground were fairly unremarkable. A majority of the total population resided in the largest cities. Perhaps as much as 50-60%, depending on which cities were included in the count. What was bantered about in public discourse was rather remarkable. Many in the elite power centers of these cities expressed both disbelief and derision with regard to those who lived in the sparsely populated swaths of the country. That those in smaller communities clung so tightly to the traditional values and way of life that they had known was unacceptable. The enlightened elect of the coastal metropolises, controlled most of the money and industry, and their acolytes dominated the popular culture. It was anti-democratic, it was explained, that the geographic bulk of the country refused to incorporate the new culture of the new world order. Many famous and powerful figures thought nothing of referring to their fellow citizens as mere serfs, subjects whose rights and values were secondary to the desires of the dominant power centers.

A series of downstream events resulted from the dramatic shift to a unilateral power center. The military saw this most dramatically. The first and most obvious symptom was a decline and then drop in recruiting. While military service had tended to draw from diverse populations and people joined for a variety of reasons, a reliable source of servicemembers was consistently the rural population, particularly the southern states. This trend declined greatly, leading the military services to gradually reduce recruiting standards over time.

There were political aspects to this as well. Activist politicians parroted a popular nonsense that diversity was somehow more important than uniformity and unity of purpose in a fighting force. This led to lower quality leaders who publicly endorsed such a view rising ahead of their peers in all branches. But more troubling, the ranks were opened to numerous troubled individuals who would traditionally have been excluded from service. Physical, cognitive, and emotional conditions which diminished operational efficiency were soon waived, and even embraced, expanding the uniformed force that on the surface appeared resilient, but below the surface was rife with fissures that would not withstand the critical pressures of the battlefield. Physically fit, mentally tough, strident, focused, courageous, and stubborn men ready and willing to fight and kill were quietly pushed aside, while women, homosexuals, and gender-altered or gender-fluid individuals were celebrated and rewarded more and more for their less conventional forms of “bravery.”

The persistence of soldiers who defied traditional definitions of masculinity and who eschewed manly virtues led to whispers at all levels referring to the military’s lead units as “pansy divisions”, a coy play on words harkening back to enemy armored units of times past. Gradually, a parallel development occurred well below public notice. More traditional recruits tended to sign on with state forces, both National Guard as well as state militias, which enabled them to directly serve their states and communities. In time the state militias outpaced the National Guard, gaining more and more forces out of the purview and control of the federal government. There was little public discourse about this, as the Defense Department applied its usual panaceas of higher budgets and mandatory positive messaging.

The formal establishment of the Domestic Military Intelligence Office occurred overnight and ahead of schedule. While the nation slept, the central might of the nation’s military was silently redirected to look inward and placed at the immediate disposal of its powerful leader. The new office was made to appear innocuous, barely noticeable to the casual observer. It was secure, accessible only by the assigned staff, the President, and select named members of the cabinet. Its function, essentially to perform focused surveillance on segments of the population who acted in opposition to the current administration, was not to be discussed and never to be directly acknowledged. By all reports, within its first few days of operation, the new element met with the enthusiastic approval of the White House. Vegeara allowed himself a moment of pride for a job well done, but dutifully refocused himself on his continuing duties.

Oddly, the General’s tendency to constant work and private meetings continued even after the DMIO was up and running and pointedly outside of the General’s direct involvement. More regular appointments were placed on the schedule as well. There was a slew of officer candidates to fill numerous vacant or interim positions in all of the military branches. So many high-ranking, branch-level officers had either retired or been driven out that an entire special staff had been established to identify candidates. This was a frustrating task for that staff, as standard military evaluations had to be filtered through a nakedly political list of priorities, and, many of the candidates were well below the experience level that would normally be a prerequisite to even be considered for such positions.

The hollowing out of the highest levels of the military was a predictable outcome of the most recent series of military operations. As usual, the civilian political leaders who were responsible for the conditions that led to military involvement escaped scrutiny, while the military leaders in place were forced to absorb all of the blame. The General had done his best to address the staffing issues in addition to his regular responsibilities, as had Vegeara, but it was long in coming, as Congress had to approve many nominees and Congress was barely functional.

There were two overlapping and nearly simultaneous factors that led to what would end up in the most decisive and destructive political split in history. One factor was the emergence of a few tightly-controlled, centralized media platforms. The other was persistent concerns over the security and legitimacy of federal elections.

The centralized media platforms were a phenomenon that largely evaded a comprehensive explanation. They had begun as free, internet-based programs, accessible on mobile devices, that enabled individual account holders to keep in touch with friends and family, access news and entertainment, as well as participate in an imagined community that included celebrities and political figures. Skeptics warned that their ubiquity and zero-cost demonstrated that the program itself was not the product, but that the user themselves were the product. These programs constantly recorded and analyzed the activity of the users, benignly assisting commercial advertisers, but also tracking all manner of theoretically personal data that revealed broad societal trends. Members of the intelligence services, including military intelligence, recognized these media platforms for what they were at their essence: intelligence operations tools.

The platforms were easily manipulatable by those practiced in propaganda. In controlling a target population, the message or theme was strictly secondary to creating the perception that it was already consensus. These platforms were amazingly useful in that they tended to limit media messages to short bursts of text or brief video clips, enabling messaging to be focused and simplistic. They also incorporated a reward system that provided users a sense of importance and self-worth via sharing and feedback from the platform itself. This aspect became quite addictive and led to their outpacing traditional, less-accessible media over the course of only a few years.

But what intelligence operators most valued was the ability to create artificial accounts within the platform itself. It was a simple matter to create an account for a non-existent person and make them seem as real as any other account holder. Rudimentary artificial intelligence was able to generate thousands of such false accounts and spread them throughout the environment and into every demographic, social, or political faction. By placing a gentle, but persistent, thumb on the scale, social and political messages merged and flourished everywhere. When the need arose to promote a certain idea, or push back against a popular notion, Little Brother was put into action, guiding the narrative to ensure that contradictory thoughtcrime was not permitted to appear legitimate.

However, there was an unforeseen downside to this nearly perfect tool for societal moderation. Before long, the traditional media, particularly television news, generally embraced the popular themes generated by their rival media platforms. Traditional fact-based reporting tended to receive fewer viewers than emotionally charged scandal and outrage. A quick survey of the topics trending across America’s mobile phones told the News Director all they needed to know about what should lead the daily programming. It became a vicious cycle, with the two competing forms of media echoing one another in a constant effort for approval and legitimacy. Added to this was the dominant opinions of those at the pinnacle of power and culture. Even the most spurious claims or seemingly insane opinions, if shared via a media platform by a leading figure, could flow through the data stream and dominate news headlines within a day.

The problem with this dominant and one-sided echo chamber was that those who dominated it eventually became victims of it as well. Because a disputed fact or opinion would end up being shared throughout the new and legacy media, those expressing and endorsing such views came to see themselves as representing a vast majority of people. In reality, while only a handful of real people endorsed any such media byte, millions of robot accounts systematically echoed them, leading to the standard media and television to echo them as well. While a relatively limited number of politicians and celebrities shared many of the most insidious visions about society and how it should be altered, they did so under the impression that most of the world agreed with them. As the big city liberal power brokers dominated all aspects of media, the rest of the population resented and increasingly ignored all manner of media, instinctively recognizing it as distortion and fiction.

This intersected with the last federal election in a way that shocked and disturbed many. While for centuries political contests were definitively decided on election day, this had gradually distorted into election week or even election month in many places, leading many to question the security of such a process. The liberal forces, desperate to cater to less informed and disconnected populations, pressed and sometimes imposed dubious schemes which cast serious doubt on the integrity of some elections. Automatically mailing ballots, unverified voters, manipulatable voter rolls, unsecure machines, all manner of methods designed to overwhelm and outmaneuver election security were implemented, particularly in places where established power brokers feared the actual will of the people being expressed on election day.

When states and communities began to implement security measures, designed to ensure that only eligible voters could cast a single ballot, the familiar refrain reverberated across the airwaves and the metaverse. “Racism!” “Fascism!” came the cries. The merits were never debated seriously. The appeal was to raw emotion, seeking division. The accusation that the election, if conducted under such conditions, was not “fair” became a dominant theme. This cascaded across all media, resulting in the voices at the top growing louder, and bolder in their denunciations of “voter suppression.” That no actual suppressed voter was ever produced was irrelevant. The idea had been injected, endorsed, repeated ad infinitum, and thus accepted in all respectable corners.

To the surprise of very few, the results of the election were hotly disputed. In areas with minimal election security, there were accusations of voter fraud, votes by dead people, ballot box stuffing, and unverifiable counts by certain machines. In other areas, those where security was tight, louder and more boisterous claims of voter suppression, disinformation, even criminal conduct were constant. That this was the “truth” was affirmed dutifully by the army of fake media accounts, which echoed the loudest voices of the far left, demanding that such clearly invalid election practices could not be allowed to stand.

Washington D.C itself was locked down by U.S. military, for security, when it came time to assemble the new Congress and finalize the Electoral College count. The liberal president was strident that he had won reelection, as were his supporters. Utilizing a variety legal maneuvers in court, his party prevented the counts in some areas and some states from being verified. Then, daringly using his allies in the media, helped ensure that numerous opposition congressional candidates who had won their elections were not sworn in to the Congress. In some cases, the losing candidate was sworn in, in others the seat was left vacant.

This ultimately served his own interests perfectly. When the electoral count was officially verified by Congress, the President had enough allies in power to block the electoral votes of multiple states. In the end, while the matter was required to be settled in the House, the president was reelected, as was his vice president, alongside a substantial majority of allies from his party. The media hailed this historic moment as a meaningful victory for democracy.

The power of the president’s party was even more greatly enhanced when many opposing members of the opposition party chose to not participate. Called upon by their governors to not lend legitimacy to the regime now occupying the White House, many returned home and refused to take their seats, lending an awkward, eerie feel to the capitol. The president wasted no time turning the situation to his advantage, nominating three additional justices to the Supreme Court, all of whom sailed through confirmation in the lopsided Senate.

While these actions made many portions of the population furious, and while military forces in the capitol braced for violent clashes with rapid, senseless supporters of the opposition, they were sorely disappointed. Protests erupted around the country. Angry, passionate, but nonviolent demonstrations in towns and state capitols across the country declared the U.S. government illegitimate and the president a dictator. Comparisons to the most suppressive regimes across modern history were trumpeted, and fears for the future bellowed. But there was no assault on the capitol. To the surprise of all, while the opposition remained constant, it stayed away from direct confrontation.

While publicly the president and his allies proclaimed that this was proof of his own legitimacy and the illegitimacy of his opponents, behind the scenes there was enormous concern. The reactionary forces of the traditionalist opposition were understood to be simplistic, confrontational, and predictable people. They would mount at least some manner of attack on Washington, which would enable the establishment to further show their illegitimacy, as well as provide an excuse to prosecute and jail as many vocal political opponents as possible. That nothing of the sort occurred was confusing, even subversive. Hence, the need for intelligence information on the president’s political opposition became a definite priority.

[colophonxenophanes]

Fields On Fire

 PART 2

          The past several years had been tumultuous to say the least. The turbulence had not been limited to the military or to the world of politics. Indeed, the entire country had become barely recognizable to what it had been only a few years before. Many debated when the transformation had begun, what event had started it, or foreshadowed it. Partisans made accusations and tried to inflame passions against their opponents. But there was not one clear event that marked the change. Rather, a series of agitators had boiled below the surface for a long time. The rearrangement of society had not suddenly sprung into existence and altered prior norms, any more than a geyser created the water, heat, and pressure that led to its formation.

            Like many changes in societies, things started to change, slowly at first, then suddenly. Some of this was reflected in politics, particularly divisive partisan politics. But that was the observable surface. Far below, in the thousands of localities across the country, a shift was building momentum. The electoral process exacerbated the fissures, weaponized sentiment, and profited from division. But the division grew nonetheless, without truly being appreciated for a long time.

            Many of the alterations were not natural evolutions over time. The most striking changes had little to nothing to do with electoral politics as such. Rather, there were new societal norms, suddenly forced upon society by activists, always in the name of justice, equality, or some other high-minded principle. In reality, much of the change was pandering to specific, vocal groups, with varying agendas. Traditional views on sex, sexuality, marriage, and particularly manhood and masculinity were subject to some of the most vicious and intolerant attacks.

            While such views represented only a tiny minority, those in support had a disproportionate amount of influence. An overlapping, interlocking cadre of wealthy, famous, and connected people had come to exercise immense influence via traditional media and newer forms of social technology. This hydra, without any discernable center of gravity, over time became able to posit nearly any idea, regardless of merit, and via the influence of its various appendages, impose a sense of definite righteousness and inevitability, such that within a short period of time, most people would tend to forget that such an idea was new and casually agree that it had always been so.

            The influence of such power only increased, and in time was leveraged by those who sought power, particularly the politicians. Once revered institutions of the national government came to be dominated by an entrenched administrative state that persisted despite changes in elected government. Some of these were leveraged by political power brokers to harass, delegitimize, and even prosecute political opponents. While there was a determined and committed opposition, centered around western cultural traditions, particularly religion, the revolutionary movement was overwhelmingly successful in painting its opponents as the worst kind of people. Racist, sexist, supremacist were the most common labels. Daring to disagree or oppose even the pace of change was sufficient to be excommunicated from polite society, deemed part of a lunatic fringe, and worse. The result was a quiet, yet dominant asphyxiating orthodoxy from which almost no one could escape.

            In time, many who had tended to passively resist the changes being imposed from above tended less and less to see themselves reflected in the society and culture that ascended around them. They largely accepted that American society had changed, and tended to see themselves as being outside of that society. Like St. Augustine, they recognized that the world around them was a city of man, but that they were to try to live in a city of God, distinct and apart from that of man, while subsisting inside it.

            The largest cities tended to be the epicenters of the new culture of “Now!”  Those most deeply opposed to restructuring the world tended to live in smaller towns and rural areas. Significant demographic shifts occurred. The cities continued to grow, but significant numbers of people moved away and out into places where the grip of government was less pronounced. As politics pervaded, the split became gradually more apparent. Those who lived in the country saw a government that promoted nonsense as unworthy of trust and committed themselves to limiting its power. Those who lived in the large cities, who experienced government as a companion to daily life, argued for giving the government more power, size, and scope. The traditionalists put their faith in God, recognizing mankind’s fallen nature, and conceived of government useful only for very limited purposes. The modernists denied God, seeing man as the most powerful thing in existence, and thus believed that man could build a perfect world, if only his government were granted enough power to force it into existence.

In time, the more traditional and conservative citizenry more and more opted out of public life. Many ceased to vote and viewed all politicians with the same derision and suspicion. Largely, vast swaths of the population turned their backs to one another and retreated into parallel communities, societies, and realities, finding their antagonist’s reality unrecognizable and unacceptable.

It was late morning when the General finished with his block of meetings. Two admirals and a senior intelligence official had taken up the bulk of the morning. They had each left quite deliberately, casting suspicious glances at the office staff as they departed. The General looked exhausted. Anyone could see it. This was odd as he had been going home for the day at a relatively early hour all week. Vegeara suspected he was taking his work home with him. The General rubbed his eyes as he helped himself to a sixth cup of coffee.

“Colonel, have someone grab my lunch. I’ll take it in my office,” yawned the General.

“Your usual, sir?” asked Vegeara.

“No. Roast beef. Extra mayo and double the meat. I’m starving.” The General moved deliberately towards his office. He came close enough to Vegeara that he was able to notice something else out of place. The General was perspiring. His brow was drenched with sweat, as if he’d just finished a five-mile run. He disappeared again into his private office and shut the door.

Later in the day Vegeara was summoned into the General’s office. Inside were two full-bird Colonels and a civilian dressed in a dark black suit, who seemed to stare right through him. Several requisition orders and inventories were spread out on a conference table before them. Vegeara noted that these seemed rather tedious documents for such a high level meeting.

“You sent for me, sir?”

“Yes. This is Colonel Brant, special assistant to the President’s Chief of Staff, and Colonel Mortenson, with Spec Ops. Gentlemen, Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara is my adjutant. He’ll handle the logistics for our hardening plan. Colonel Vegeara, you’ll interface with Colonel Brant in securing and installing the equipment we’ll need to establish the new domestic military intelligence office at the White House.”

“Of course, sir. How shall I proceed?”

Colonel Mortenson handed Vegeara a stack of papers, which he recognized as authorizing the acquisition, movement, and transfer of sensitive military materiel. Mortenson looked him up and down. “We need all of this prepped and ready within forty-eight to seventy-two hours. The items on the last page are off book and are already packaged. See me directly when its time to move in.”

“Yes, sir.” Vegeara scanned the top page of the document. Mostly computer electronics and security items.

The General stared up at him, which he recognized as a cue to depart. He made the requisite nod and left the room. The man in black never said a word, nor did he ever break his stare.

When Vegeara began working the order he was perplexed. Most of the items were relatively run of the mill. He well knew of the project to install a military intelligence office in the White House, focused on domestic surveillance. It had been a topic of much conversation in the previous few weeks and had become a top priority. It had even been leaked to the press, who commented favorably and generally agreed that such a move was a necessity due to the current situation, and that any public criticism was seditious and disloyal.

What confused him was why the General would be so directly involved in determining an equipment list? Under ordinary circumstances something like this would have been handed off to someone below Vegeara’s level. The participation of Special Operations and certain items being kept off the books, paid for out of discretionary funds, was expected. What was not expected was a single line-item on the last page of the stack of documents. It was innocuous enough, just a block of code squeezed between dozens of other similar lines. Most would not have noticed it at all. But Vegeara was meticulous and was quite familiar with handling such information. He recognized the coding and wondered to himself what the new White House Domestic Military Intelligence Office needed with such items?

The devices in question were a highly sophisticated desktop technology. An oversimplified description of an earlier generation of such devices was a three-dimensional printer. But the these were far more complex. The classified tech made it possible to manufacture critical replacement parts on short notice, made from a variety of materials. The operational use of these machines tended towards units in remote and austere locations, where resupply of critical items was limited. The new military office at the White House did not match with the standard use. But, such concerns were far above Vegeara’s paygrade. He moved on quickly from the oddity of the items on the list to determining the logistics that would enable him to complete the mission he had been given.

Over the next two days Vegeara managed to accomplish the acquisitions, according to the required parameters, on top of his near constant regular duties running the General’s schedule. The closed-door meetings continued, which Vegeara attributed primarily to the military intelligence office project. This had become such a high priority that numerous defense agencies were devoting significant resources to putting it in place ahead of schedule. This was not publicly discussed, or even officially acknowledged of course. The effort was, in theory, highly classified, meaning that officials from different offices, working on different aspects of the same goal, could not even discuss it with one another. Vegeara was comfortable with the secrecy and minimal verifiable information. The nation, he knew, had long been in a state of emergency, and extraordinary measures were being implemented to ensure its survival.

Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara allowed his mind to drift to the striking events of the somewhat recent past, reflecting on the government’s flat-footed inability to anticipate events or react appropriately. It was the resulting upheaval which had mandated the expanded power of the federal government which was now being undertaken, as well as the emphasis on domestic surveillance and security of which Vegeara was a key part.

[colophonxenophanes]

Fields On Fire

PART 1

            The ricochet of deliberate footsteps echoed through an empty corridor. The Pentagon was still practically deserted this early in the morning. It was just over thirty minutes before dawn and there was much work to be done before the generals and admirals arrived to receive their morning briefings.

            Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara lifted his gaze to present his face to the security camera as he tugged on his ID badge and held it a finger-width from the sensor. The bolt of the auto-lock sounded like the recoil of a distant gunshot. An armed enlisted soldier physically checked his ID as he entered and confirmed his face matched the photo. “Good morning Colonel Vegeara,” came the dry, routine greeting. He was eyes-front, emotionless, at one with his duty.

            “Morning Corporal,” Vegeara replied. He continued through the labyrinth of cubicles and offices, returning to his office and workstation, immediately outside the private office of the acting Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It had barely been five hours since he’d finished his work for the night and gone home. He had only been able to fall asleep due to a combination of noise cancelling technology, aromatics, and measured doses of magnesium and melatonin. He was awake now thanks primarily to a cocktail of vitamin compounds and strong coffee. His mind was already three tasks ahead as his secured computer grinded through a seemingly endless series of security protocols and verifications which required him to click through statements acknowledging that improper use of the system would subject him to federal prosecution.

            His first task was to read the General’s early morning emails. He had already checked most of the overnight messages on his mobile device, within minutes of waking up. Only the classified messages and those received within the last hour would be left. He would need to sort, prioritize, summarize, and synthesize all of this into a digestible three-minute oral presentation, which would be given to the General as Vegeara walked with him, briskly, from a secured entrance to his office. There was a busy schedule already, which had been finalized the night before. The content of the messages received in the first twenty minutes would determine if any last-minute changes had to be made.

            Such sudden changes had become the norm. Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara rarely permitted himself to reflect much on the momentous events of the last several years. He did not have time to indulge in such trivialities. He had important work to do and the pressure around the Defense Department and the Pentagon had increased exponentially. Only those who embraced the ‘adapt and overcome’ mentality managed to thrive in this environment. Vegeara believed that the key was to never allow oneself to consider all of the work before him as one monstrous undertaking. One had to process surface information quickly and subdivide the workload into numerous smaller tasks, prioritizing them according to importance and those which could be completed quickly. The trick was to manage larger tasks by attacking them in segments, never getting bogged down in a single item that might take all day, or longer.

            It was 0505 hours. The General would arrive within the next ten to fifteen minutes, requiring Vegeara to perform his preliminary scrub within five minutes in order to meet him as soon as he arrived. A prominent stressor was that much of the General’s schedule was occupied by in-person meetings, most of which the General had scheduled for himself. This complicated things for the staff, as such events tended to overlap on the schedule and often ran long, throwing off Vegeara’s ability to manage the day at peak efficiency. Almost as irritating, when the General set a private meeting in his personal office, he rarely provided the kind of key details that a staff member would, such as the number of attendees and their names. This often created chaos for the General’s staff, as high-ranking officers and officials would arrive without warning and disappear behind the large oak double doors for hours, leaving staff to scramble and work with subordinates from other offices to reshuffle other events.

            Today was no different. Large black blocks on the spreadsheet indicated segments of time the General had already marked off for unspecified meetings. Vegeara had adapted as well as one could, sharpshooting for less significant and ceremonial items for which the General had increasingly demonstrated little patience. About thirty percent of today’s scheduled items were low priority and subject to elimination. He marked them and sent a few electronic messages, prepping the battlefield for another day of constant change. Within four and a half minutes Vegeara was marching up another empty corridor to meet the General as soon as he walked in the door.

            “Good morning, Colonel,” snapped the General as he strode in from the secure garage, moving at full speed and not slowing down.

            “Good morning, sir,” came the reply.

            The General scratched a few notes on an index card with a mechanical pencil that Vegeara provided him. This had become part of the daily ritual. The card was tucked into a breast pocket and never seen again. He noted that prior to departing for the day the General tended to shred the card by hand and toss the pieces in a random trash receptacle. He also noted that the few times he had seen the shredded pieces of card, they did not seem to be enough to account for the entire card. He suspected the General kept the remaining shreds and disposed of them outside of the Pentagon, so as to ensure it would be impossible for anyone to reconstruct the card and thereby decipher the General’s notes or thoughts.

            This level of OPSEC did not concern Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara. It was merely an additional level of security, and for a man in the General’s position, such precautions did not evince paranoia, but rather practical care and self-preservation.

            The era of trust and easy espirít-de-corps in the United States military, particularly at the top, was long over. Politicians, bureaucrats, insiders, and ambitious officers were constantly looking and listening for advantageous information and looking over their shoulder to ensure they did not give up any. Scandal had become a weapon of choice and leaks to media allies an operational necessity. Many rising stars in the prime of their careers had been derailed by information attacks, leaving a hollow void in the middle of the leadership base of the military.

            No one was more keenly aware of this phenomenon than Lieutenant Colonel Vegeara. His position as executive adjutant to the acting Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had been achieved indirectly from such machinations and maneuverings. He was a capable and well-organized officer. His record was impressive. But he was not among the dynamic and charismatic superstars that tended to be groomed for important positions. He had simply managed to make no enemies and maintain a low profile as he had progressed through the ranks. His organizational skills had caught someone’s eye and he had been assigned to assist the General in his previous billet. After a handful of high-profile resignations, retirements, and dismissals, the General was next in line to temporarily act as Chairman, at least until a new candidate could be appointed by the President. When the General assumed his new position, he took Vegeara and a few others over with him. In the intervening time he had developed a system to accomplish a job which had no appreciable limits and which seemed to change on a daily basis.

            The General was tightlipped about his dealings. Communication had tended more and more to be one way, with Vegeara providing information and answers to questions, and the General providing specific instructions that betrayed no information about what was going on in his mind. The General’s regular cast of visitors provided no additional information, other than one basic fact that Vegeara thought would be plain to anyone. Whatever was going on, it was extremely important.