The Frisian, Part 2
Thierry Baudet’s office, Reichstag - July 2, 2014, 3:00 PM
Thierry heard the door open. He looked up from his desk in time to see five middle-aged men in black suits file into his office. These were the leaders of the five parties he contacted—Politische Christlicher (PC), the Athosian Party (AP), Fraktion Crusaderstaat (FC), Sacrum Imperium Romanum (SIR), and Partei Bibeltreuer Christen (PBC). While their full names sounded very intimidating and restrictive, that was the farthest from the truth. They were pretty moderate, despite lying outside the “official” mainstream. They had started solely going by their acronyms to bring in new supporters and shake off the image the full names gave off. The actual radicals and dangers to society were the madmen in the NDP and AfR, who of course still proudly used their full names.
“Ah, gentlemen,” he said, “Welcome. Thank you so much for making it here.”
“Thank you for inviting us, Herr Baudet,” PBC chairman Joel Ostler said, “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to reach out.”
Joel was a kind of short and skinny Bohemian man in his mid-forties. On that alone, he looked overshadowed by the other four men. But his sharp black business suit and slick gelled hair more than made up for it. His confident posture was a relic of his time with a major Pressburg marketing firm which went bust in 2008. He’d reinvented himself shortly after that by rediscovering his faith and becoming an ordained minister. The church he set up gained a large Internet following after he began streaming his sessions. His marketing background helped him a lot here, and many of his viewers were drawn in by his charisma. Even those who didn’t attend his church conceded he was very friendly and welcoming. Now he was moving on up in the political scene, first as the newly appointed leader of PBC and now standing right before him.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Herr Ostler,” Thierry said, “This country is at a crossroads. The biosphere is collapsing around us. Our house is on fire, and yet, despite acknowledging the problem, we refuse to do something about it. Merkel is still continuing the Nord Stream project, at the cost of jobs in the east and despite the obvious environmental issues, and nobody dares to speak out against her, not even the ‘opposition’. We are powerless to stop her within her coalition.”
“And you want me to be that voice,” Joel said.
“One of them,” Thierry said, “You have a wide audience. You can tell them about the troubles we are facing, what we are up against, and the failures of the mainstream parties in more detail than the media. You know how compromising and forgiving the media is when it comes to the first female chancellor. It’s time we treated her not as a female chancellor, but as any other chancellor.”
“Honestly, Herr Baudet, we also have more pressing issues to deal with first,” Joel said, “Like the bin Laden campaign.”
“Agreed,” SIR chairman Emilio Vandenburg said, “It’s madness. That orange buffoon’s support grows by the day, taking away our potential examiners and supporters.”
Emilio Vandenburg was a portly white-haired man in a pastor’s suit. Before heading into politics he had been a bishop in Lombardy. But when crime rates rose in his hometown, and many of his flock succumbed to opioid overdoses, he realized he had to do something, which led him to join SIR and eventually lead it. Thierry contacted him not only because he was SIR’s leader, but also because he was a bureaucrat at heart. He worked closely with local law enforcement and had kept detailed records of victims of crime and substance abuse, which served him well as a representative for the area. In his first few years in the Reichstag, he drove down crime and drug overdose rates to remarkable levels, earning him praise in provincial media…although the media outside Italia ignored him.
“I believe the media refers to it as ‘economic anxiety’,” Thierry said, “Bad economies lead to strange bedfellows. They’re cowards to call out the problem as it is when their own profit margins and sponsorships depend on it still existing. That’s what’s wrong with Roman society. Money has corrupted it. One of the seven deadly sins, greed.”
“Agreed,” Emilio said, “Bin Laden is building on the same talking points as you are, but none of the substance. We have to eliminate him before his campaign reaches critical mass.”
“I really don’t know how this guy’s getting so much support,” Joel said, “He has no redeeming qualities to him, just…madness.”
“That guy’s been married and divorced three times,” FC chairman Jacob Baldouin said, his voice tinged with a light Loango accent, “Bankrupted his properties too many times. He’s made his entire career out of scamming and defrauding everyone. He’s the living embodiment of not only greed, but the other six sins. I would even go as far as calling him the Antichrist.”
Before Jacob Bauldouin entered politics, he was a poor boy from a Loango village. A chance encounter with a traveling missionary introduced him to Christianity, spurring him to enter the priesthood. But he decided the life of a clergyman wasn’t for him, so he decided to become a missionary instead. His strong-willed voice soon boomed across many town squares in the African states, and his unyielding determination made sure he made at least a hundred converts in each state before moving on. Using donations raised in previous states, he rebuilt and modernized schools, orphanages, hospitals, and roads as best as he could. Berlin had largely done the bare minimum for Africa over the last few decades, but Jacob would not settle for that. His big break came when he partnered with a powerful Frisian shipping magnate who wanted to give away his entire fortune to charity, allowing Jacob to expand into the Middle East, Europe, and Neurhomania. This drew the attention of FC, which first offered a partnership and later full membership. From there, he climbed the ranks to become the first African leader of a Reichstag party. If only he applied the same determination which got him there to shaving his ridiculous beard.
“Let’s not call him the Antichrist,” Joel said, “That probably won’t play well.”
“We should ignore him, then,” Jacob said.
“Are you serious?” Emilio said. “He’ll discredit our movement and take all of us down with his incompetence.”
“Not if we work together,” Thierry said, “With all of our factions caucusing together, we have the strength and influence to push him out and retake the narrative.”
“You propose an alliance?” AP chairman Sebastian Kristof said.
Sebastian was a bureaucrat like Emilio, but he had made a career out of it. He spent 25 years in the Bureau for the Environment, and he looked the part. His hair was curly, and he always wore small circular glasses. His face was wrinkled and square, with a light mustache running over his face. He was content with wearing a casual plaid button-up shirt and jeans, with a Roman eagle pin on his collar and a plain cross necklace around his neck. Nobody had expected him to lead AP, but he did.
“I suppose we align on a lot of things,” Sebastian said, “I like your environmental record.”
“And I appreciate your efforts in opposing the Nord Stream project,” Thierry said.
“But why us?” Sebastian said. “We’re all from minor parties. You want us to leave the governing coalition and make sure Merkel gets even less done?”
“Look Sebastian, the chancellor is ramming Nord Stream through the Diet with your help,” Thierry said, “Even if you don’t agree with Nord Stream, she has the votes.”
“We do that so we can get some of our platform passed,” Jacob said.
“I did get Christmas reaffirmed as a religious holiday,” Sebastian said.
“Oh, for the love of…you know what, I’ll skip to the point,” Thierry said, “Christmas is still a religious holiday, Sebastian. Always has been, alongside the secular festivities. It’s a diversion from the real policy issues, like Nord Stream. And the Diet voted down voluntary school prayers, in case you missed it. She's playing all of your.”
“He has a point,” Joel said, “She only offers meager concessions to us in exchange for us supporting her entire platform, not just the environmental stuff.”
“But…’Gott mit uns’ is again the national motto,” Sebastian said.
“DOES ANYBODY CARE WHAT THE MOTTO IS WHEN THE GODDAMN FRAKKING PLANET IS ON FIRE?!” PC chairman Josiah Burkard suddenly shouted.
Everybody stared at Josiah. Nobody had expected an outburst from the quiet academic who wore a collared shirt and black blazer with the coat of arms of the Constantinople School of Economics emblazoned on it. The economics professor was more known for his recent papers on the most effective welfare plans for new immigrants and how to integrate them into Roman society than his rage. However, Thierry did hear at least a couple former students recount traumatizing incidents when their entire class failed a particularly difficult midterm. There were no such incidents when he taught theology at Jerusalem University during the summer though. It was like he was a completely different man there.
“Uh…Josiah…do you have anything to add?” Thierry said, nervously backing away.
Josiah’s scowl disappeared and was replaced with a smile. He relaxed his posture.
“Don’t…you…frakking…understand?!” Josiah said. “Merkel only uses us to keep her majority, keeping us placated with non-issues like nonexistent wars on Christmas and the national motto instead of the stuff we should work on, like expanding the welfare state and implementing a carbon tax. Both of those are necessary reforms we must make soon to save not only this country but the entire planet, and yet Merkel only throws us the smallest bones in exchange for things like Nord Stream. Herr Baudet has a point.”
“What we need is a coalition of our own,” Thierry said, “We pool our resources together and agree not to compete with each other so we don’t split our examiners and divide our supporters. We’ll present a united front to the rest of the nation. First, we’ll use that to defeat bin Laden and Alternative for Rhomania, and then afterward we’ll take on Merkel. I have to be honest, we may not defeat Merkel this year. I don't expect to. But if we run on issues that everyone can agree on, like infrastructure, education, healthcare, and of course the climate crisis, we can get a foot in the door and build up a base for 2020 and beyond. Perhaps we can even get our ideas into the mainstream.”
“It’ll also help put us in contrast with that idiot,” Joel said.
“I agree,” Jacob said.
“We need to show him for who he truly is,” Thierry said, “A fraud and conman who hopes to buy the chancellery in his latest scam. We represent a moral constant that’s been lacking in Roman society, as he so ‘eloquently’ embodies as a coastal ‘billionaire’ from Jeddah. We intend to bring back balance to this country, because we actually care about the common people. We all need that, now more than ever.”
“Yes, with a renewed focus on the poor and needy, as the good book encourages,” Sebastian said, “We at AP have a nice welfare reform package ready to go.”
“Send it my way, I could check your calculations,” Josiah said.
“Sure thing,” Sebastian said.
“See?” Thierry said. “We have a lot of things we can agree on.”
“Wait, since nobody in this room is going to say it, I suppose I will,” Jacob said, “Why should we support you? Why should you be our leader? If we can unite against bin Laden and AfR, we all have the resources of our parties behind us, while you only have campaign staff and a few connections. Why not give the position to someone with more experience, like Josiah or Sebastian?”
“Gentlemen, you need me to reach a bigger audience,” Thierry said, “To show one party isn't dominating the others, as you'll all appreciate, but rather we're all working together as equals. We also need to look beyond defeating bin Laden and towards ousting Merkel and the CMU. The CMU has calcified. The SPR lost its way in Mexico, and the KRA and FMP have been idiots for decades. The Diet is paralyzed. Has been for years, but nobody has realized it yet, or maybe they do and are too afraid to speak out. We will speak out. We will tell them it’s okay to voice their concerns. They need someone new to look to for guidance, not just the same old order which caused all of our current problems. They want new leadership, new blood. You have the influence. I have the new blood. Together, we can reach those people. We can bring our unified message to a larger audience. I can coordinate our campaigns, increase our reach and influence tenfold. Even if it takes five, ten, fifteen years, we must not give up.”
The four men took a couple seconds to let Thierry’s words sink in. Then they slowly nodded.
“I agree,” Joel said, “Well said. Consider me sold.”
“Well, I do like the sound of new blood,” Emilio said, “I’m onboard.”
“I like your enthusiasm, Herr Baudet,” Sebastian said, “I think you’ll get very far. With us working together, of course.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t help to add my expertise to the team,” Josiah said, “You’ll need it.”
“I appreciate it,” Thierry said, “Thank you, all of you. I’m honored you’re all onboard.”
“They won’t like what we’re doing,” Joel said.
“Let them come,” Thierry said, “They’re afraid of change. Let’s show them what the unified voice of the people can do, God willing.”
Swords to Ploughshares Initiative - August 15, 2014, 10:00 AM
Erich entered the lobby and waited at the counter. A social worker appeared from a side door and led him down a hallway to one of the rooms, where Martin relaxed on a couch, watching the local news.
“Hey,” Erich said, “How are you doing?”
“Fine, Erich,” Martin said, “Got through another of those movies yesterday. I think it was
Apocalypse Now or something. They’re too real.”
“You don’t have to watch them, Martin,” Erich said.
“I know,” Martin said, “I was just curious.”
Erich handed him a casserole. “Sharon made it.”
“Uh, thanks,” Martin said, “So, how are you doing?”
“Oh, I’ve gone back to work,” Erich said, “Not much paperwork to fill out these days. Really not much to do lately. My friend Hermann told me he’s working for The Forum’s campaign now. And Sharon’s lawsuit is still going.”
“I heard,” Martin said, “It was on the news just now.”
“The news?” Erich said. “Sharon didn’t give any statements.”
“No, the candidates were talking about it,” Martin said, “Especially that Martin Schulz guy.”
He changed the channel.
“…get her house in order,” SPR candidate Martin Schulz said, “Chancellor Merkel and her Justice Minister have done a terrible job of handling this lawsuit, which has dragged on for almost a year already. I’m not even talking about the fact that the Deputy Director was somehow beaten up by his entire staff because they thought he was a terrorist. Nobody was held accountable for the incident. What is going on with this administration? What we need is a political revolution to bring about actual change, to limit the power of the 1% over the rest of the Roman people. We must reform our system so that it benefits the many instead of the few…”
“I hate it when they talk about me like that,” Erich said.
“His poll ratings increased five points since yesterday,” Martin said, “He’s got some great ideas, I’ll give him that. Unlike that bin Laden idiot. He dodged the draft, can you believe it? Something about bone spurs. And the nerve to criticize actual veterans like Mihailo Princip…”
“Did they ask you to be an examiner?” Erich said.
“If they did, I’m not supposed to tell, am I?” Martin chuckled.
“The law is a little vague in that area,” Erich said.
“Regardless, it’s too much work, so I guess I’d defer it to someone else,” Martin said, “There’s definitely someone better for the job. I’ve been away from home for too long.”
“You doing okay?” Erich said. “You seem tired.”
“I’ve been tired ever since I got home,” Martin said, rubbing his neck, “Maybe I’m just old. The sessions here help out a little.”
“That’s good to hear,” Erich said.
As Martin rubbed his neck more, Erich noticed a large scar running down the back of his neck, partially hidden by his hairline.
“What’s that scar you have there?” Erich said.
“Oh, that?” Martin said. “Think that's from Schnitzelberg. Pretty bad cut if you ask me.”
Arcadia Bar and Restaurant - September 17, 2014, 6:00 PM
Angela sipped another beer as Gustav cut away at his steak. College students chatted loudly around them while rock music blared over the loudspeakers. The wall-mounted TV sets had a baseball game on. Jersey-wearing fans crowded around them, complaining about every bad play.
“So, want to tell me why we’re here?” Gustav said.
“I just wanted to catch up, like old friends,” Angela said, “See if there’s anything new.”
“Are you sure?” Gustav said. “They were talking about the ruling earlier. Congratulations.”
“Tell that to my mom,” Angela said, “She thinks five million marks and a year of backpay still isn’t enough.”
“Hey, it’s hard to get a better deal these days,” Gustav said, “Especially exactly one year after the incident happened. I think she got the largest payout in the last forty years? Everything’s gotten so calcified these days.”
“Calcified?” Angela said.
“Yeah,” Gustav said, “I mean, what do you expect, when those in power aren’t concerned about losing it anytime soon?”
It slowly dawned on Angela.
“Thierry Baudet,” she said.
“Well, let’s just say our interests align,” Gustav said, “I mean, he’s not the NDP and he’s certainly better than bin Laden.”
“I suppose so,” Angela said, “I have to admit, they have some good ideas. And at least he’s not bin Laden.”
“Well, if you want a more detailed platform, I can get you a pamphlet from Thierry himself,” Gustav said, “Maybe even with an autograph.”
“I’m good,” Angela said, "I prefer to stay out of politics...as much as I can with my job."
“By the way, I now manage The Forum’s veterans outreach program,” Gustav said.
“Using Swords to Ploughshares?” Angela said.
“Hey, he’s our biggest donor,” Gustav said, “I really like the new gig. I get to reach out to more veterans than with Swords to Ploughshares alone. And we might be expanding to the eastern provinces soon. Some charity there is talking about merging with us. Called the Shepherds'...something, I forgot.”
Angela sipped her beer again.
“Well, I can’t blame you,” she said, “Speaking of which, how’s Corporal Georgios doing?”
“Martin’s recovering well,” Gustav said, “His nightmares have subsided. He’s recovering more of his memories. But he still can’t talk much about what happened after Schnitzelberg. And he still doesn’t react well to loud noises.”
“Perhaps he should see a PTSD specialist,” Angela said.
“We’re working on it,” Gustav said, “But the IHS’s budget hasn’t been the same since the shutdown ended. Did you find out more about his circumstances? What exactly happened while he was still in Siam?”
“I’m trying to get the files,” Angela said, “Bureaucracy is slow.”
“Please let me know if you find anything,” Gustav said.
“I understand,” Angela said, “His treatment needs to be tailored to his experiences.”
Gustav’s phone rang at that moment.
“Oh, my bad,” he said, “Hello? Kurt? Really? I’ll be right there.”
He hung up. “My apologies. Kurt says there’s an emergency at Swords to Ploughshares. One of our clients had a seizure. I need to go.”
“It’s fine,” Angela said, “Take care of that.”
Gustav grabbed his hat. “Well, it was nice meeting you again. And the steak was something to die for.”
X-Division - October 3, 2014, 7:00 PM
On the TV, a debate was on between the two main candidates for chancellor. Merkel and Schulz stood at their podiums, making their case to the people as moderators asked questions.
“With all due respect, the chancellor’s budget has been in shambles for a while,” Schulz said, “The shutdown was just one example of this. Her record of not reversing, if not continuing, Schröder’s disastrous deregulation make the facts clear. The existence of the Occupy movement shows the result of her actions. Her handling of the Athanatoi lawsuit fiasco shows where her priorities are. If the chancellor gets another term, we are on track for another recession. She is the bought and paid for representative of the 1% who would like nothing more than to continue the unsustainable status quo.”
“Herr Schulz, you are plain wrong,” Merkel said, “The shutdown was caused because the KRA and FMP both demanded an end to subsidies for nuclear power and I’m not conceding.”
“But the subsidies were still removed in the final budget,” Schulz said, “What are you going to say to the workers who’ll lose their jobs?”
“And what do you suggest?” Merkel said. “What do you propose to fix these problems? How will you pay for all of your policies?”
"That's the twentieth time you've asked me that, and again, I say that everything is outlined on my website in an easy to understand format," Schulz said, "Meanwhile, nobody here has asked the chancellor how she will pay for yet another hundred billion mark increase for the military budget. How come we always have money for unnecessary wars around the world but never have it for social programs at home? Can you answer that now, Chancellor Merkel?"
Diana changed the channel and sighed.
“This is getting boring,” she said, “The last time these debates were interesting was when Kohl was in office. It’s all soundbites and trick questions these days.”
“Someday, we’ll come around,” Anders said.
“I don’t think so,” Diana said, “We’ll never see another Kohl.”
“I miss Kohl,” Angela said.
“Has it really been fourteen years?” Olga said.
“It was a different time,” Anders said, throwing another pencil at the ceiling, “When we didn’t have to worry about terrorists taking away our funding and civil liberties. I feel old.”
“We’re still relevant,” Angela said, “We still have the X-Division.”
“That means nothing these days,” Diana said, “And as time passes, it’ll mean less and less. Just look at us right now. We haven’t had a case in months. I don’t think we’ll have one in a while. We used to get cases every week or so. The tabloids and local news had all the crazy stories we’d investigate.”
“And now it’s all just celebrity worship, blatant jingoism, and the weather,” Anders said.
“To be fair, half of those old reports were hoaxes,” Olga said.
“These days, every alleged incident you’d find online, because that’s where you find all of them these days, would be debunked instantly,” Diana said, “No more shaky cellphone footage, no more blurry photos, no more men in black, just obviously made-up stuff designed to rile people up and push an agenda.”
“Maybe that’s the conspiracy we should be investigating,” Anders said.
“We’re all over 50,” Diana said, “We don’t have much time left.”
“You know agency policy means we have to retire soon,” Angela said, “What will we do then?”
Anders looked at the floor. “Yeah…what will we do? I never thought of it.”
“You have plenty of money,” Angela said.
“It’s not going to help,” Diana said.
“What about X-Division?” Anders said. “Who will run it? What about the truth? Who will work to uncover it?”
“We’ll figure it out, Anders,” Angela said, “We always do.”
“You keep saying that, Angie,” Anders said, “But we’re not in the ‘90s anymore. We can’t figure things out the way we used to. Look at what happened with the other Angie. If I was duped the whole time, what does that say about me?”
Diana took Anders’ hand.
“Then we’ll figure out a new way,” she said, “Together. That’s how we move forward.”
But Diana knew, deep down, it wasn’t going to end well for all of them.