Prologue

"Love is our response to our highest values."
Ayn Rand

Thursday December 29th, 2089

He spent most of those hours of darkness in little better than nightmares, racked by coughing, choking frequently, shaking with the chill and the burning of fever. A pink measles-like rash broke out on him by midnight, and by daybreak he could finally feel himself sinking into a deep sleep. Even as he slept, though, England could feel himself growing weak with the cumulative piling up of horror and an overwhelming sense of solitude that seemed to pool near the pits of his stomach, propelling him into mewling sobs of anguish. Still, when he felt the heat of sunlight warm his face, he opened his eyes, stretching his arm out, only to watch in fascination as the contours of shade and light teasingly pranced between his knuckles and over the decimated walls of the compound.

The fog of his mind made everything around him a blur of colors; shocks of brightness like messages between synapses jolted his muscles.

He had a certain sense of surprise about everything. He was not exactly sure what day it might be, for example—perhaps Thursday, he thought. But it could equally have been a Friday, perhaps even a Wednesday. He wondered back to those days of his early infancy, before he could understand words and time, and tried to imagine himself at the beginning, too frightened by the concept of the end.

The low murmur of static made him shift for the first time, and he groaned, then, tried to laugh. At least he still had a voice. But a throb of pain brought him back to his reality, and he realized that he had no television, much less radio transmission. As far as he was concerned, he was likely dying, perhaps already dead and too unwilling to let go—a memory of a nation in the limbo of war. But the familiar static of technology continued to thrum through the room, and he began to believe that it was real, that perhaps there was something in the room calling him to civilization.

"England! – Arthur!"

America. America. Why couldn't his lips move again?—America! Silence. The scream of desire and pain so deep as to be only heard by the rocks near his feet; maybe he was dreaming.

He'd last truly interacted with America, after all, whispering sweet nothings against the lad's mouth, drinking in the smell of coffee, and open-prairies with iridescent blue skies, lost somewhere in the other's warmth even as the sky turned a ghastly orange, swirling in the anger of ash and fire above them.

Why couldn't he just be living in a memory?

Many people, back then, had already been reported as escaping from the cities, but those that remained had suffered no small amount of disgraceful panic.

Civilization had retreated, but at least it had carried its wounded along.

Inspired by doctors and nurses at their post, thousands had enlisted as volunteers. Nations had been no heroes—just symbolic memories, their identities released to the public as a way to boost morale and prevent society from spiraling deeper into anarchy. So much sacrifice from his people, only for them to become an afterthought…

England could still remember that he had dug his fingertips into America's coat lapels, pulling him in for the first kiss he'd ever laid on his bright cherry lips, chapped and stained with arid dirt—a sweet reminder of the implosion of the world. Then, he had watched the American be pulled into a helicopter by two military men, yelling and twisting to get a good look at the Englishman he was leaving behind: "I'm going to end it, England. I'm going to make sure it stops now and then I'm gonna come back for you, and we're gonna have our happy-ever-after, damn it! Don't you smirk like that you condescending asshole; I'm serious, so you better wait for me… you better wait for me, England!"

"Arthur! Damn it—Arthur!"

"Sir—"

"Let me go! I'm going to find him—England!"

Whole areas of cities had been designated as hospital zones and points of concentration. All ordinary business had ceased, but his people had carried on, in the proud manner of their ancestors—perhaps in his proud manner.

The same that had prevented him from calling America, not even to say hello. But who said such things as 'hello' during times of war? – Phone calls were avoided; messages were sent in code; military plans were left behind—no one spoke in terms of the present, only in terms of the future, even if just as a way of masking the grimness of the day. What would he have said to America anyway? They had had no future.

He then felt the first pangs of hunger overcome the puncturing pain in his bones. Even as food had been rationed and a third of the population was dead, his people had kept on working, making sure that water, light, and power remained in most cities. To avoid intolerable conditions, which might have led to a total breakdown of morale, the authorities were enforcing strict regulations for immediate mass burials. How many mass burials would be needed now? Would he be tossed into a pit along with the rest?—He wouldn't mind so much, so long as…

"England…"

There was silence. And then he feared he really might have been imagining it all.

"America!"

"England!—Arthur, I'm here… oh my gosh, where the fuck are you? Keep yelling, damn it! England! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

"A—America…! America, America, America, America, America…!"

And he continued, his mantra releasing him into light as he coughed, trying to turn his body to crawl towards a more visible area, but just as he was turning his eyes towards the sky, he felt a loud thump next to him.

"God damn it. Just—I knew I was going to find you. Artie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry. I fucked it all up; I'm sorry. I'm—"

"Hush now, America," he coughed into the other's jacket, feeling his body shake once again, perhaps from shame at having stained the other red with his blood, "I never doubted you would—would find me, love. Now hush, America, don't cry."

America rubbed at his eyes with his free arm, cradling the English nation in his other arm. He watched as the other heaved out shaky breaths, one arm hanging limply by his side. Already his wrist was beginning to swell. "Artie, I'm—this is all my fault. There was a miscalculation and…"

Through sighing breaths, England managed to push out what he'd been wondering all along—ever since Sunday: "Is it over now?"

Tears pooled near the corners of America's eyes. He blinked, trying to push them away. "Yeah, Artie, yeah," he paused, gulping in hopes of recovering some strength to his voice, "I—it's over." He laid a kiss on the other's temple, feeling the rising bumps of a burning rash over the other's skin, "It's over. I swear to God it's over, Artie. I—I came here looking for you as soon as the peace treaty was signed; I—I, fuck, I wanted to be here sooner, but…"

"… you ridiculous fool," the other's lips curved into a smile, and he let his nose breathe in the faint smell of musk and sand from America's neck, settling a marginal kiss over his pulse, such a strong pulse, "it's over, America."

(England would always remember the taste of that pulse—the vibrating thrumming of cities still left standing, people skipping and running and carrying on… yes, carrying on. He would remember it when he would kiss America's lips, when their limbs would lay tangled together. And whenever America was asleep, England would press his lips to that pulse and remember the rebirth of hegemony.)

"A—Arthur…?" America's voice squeaked as he sniffled, hands quaking as they tried to remain calm, "England…?" He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows, "Y—you're just sleeping, right? England?"—He tried to roll the other awake, lightly shaking his shoulder.—"No, no, England, you're just sleeping." He nodded, scanning the area only to find rubble, and, in front of him, the face of a man with his eyes still openly staring at him, half his body charred by radiation, "Yeah, you're resting, you're—"

"Yes, America. I'm… I'm just resting."

"Just resting?" his voice begged for a promise.

And England delivered, "just resting, love."

"Man with all his noble qualities, with sympathy which feels for the most debased, with benevolence which extends not only to other men but to the humblest living creature, with his god-like intellect which has penetrated into the movements and constitution of the solar system—with all these exalted powers—man still bears in his bodily frame the indelible stamp of his lowly origin."
Charles Darwin

He saw a rat attacking a smaller one.

The small one fought back, dodging desperately in an attempt at escape. Internally, America cheered for the small one, having, perhaps, always believed that he was the representative of the small and defenseless, all those that needed a Hero. The small rat seemed poised to succeed, finding a hole too small for the larger one. But then, a third and still larger rat appeared.

America reached for his gun, but felt a weak hand sprawl over his wrist, holding him back. Half-lidded green eyes settled on his, and he eased the tension in his shoulder, letting go of the gun.

The larger rat sprang upon the small one. A little pool of blood spread out from the torn throat as the largest rat dragged the body away with the one that had made the original attack scurrying close after.

"Why did you—"

England simply shifted, groggily turning his back to him, and falling back asleep. "You need to learn to act less out of instinct, and more out of habit."

"I don't understand," America pouted, staring still at the thin river of blood that trickled above dismembered bricks. He flexed his fingers, eyeing the small pit of fire he had put together after much work, "England, did you hear me?"

There was a ringing bitterness to his voice when he responded: "Who's the hegemon now, America?"

The blue-eyed blonde blinked, unsure of why it should matter, why the question should even come up when everyone was in such a position of pain and loss—he, too, among them. But he cleared his throat, frowning as he threw in another stack of figs to encourage the fire to burn brighter. "I think you know, or else you wouldn't be asking, England," he murmured in a whisper, almost ashamed.

"Again, then?"

"Yeah," America bit his bottom lip, "again."

The United States of America: hegemon. England gulped, loudly, feeling warm tears pool around the corner of his eyes—the jealousy of his entire being converging into hate and anger, because as much as he loved Alfred, everyone wanted hegemony, and no one loved a hegemon.

England had once been a global hegemon, but the global system always loved devolution, and in the eternal cycle of great power politics, England had lost his hegemony to America, though not immediately. For the first early years, he had felt like a big brother again, perhaps only with more love in his heart this time, for which he could blame Arthur, and together, they had built a different empire—capitalism, the international political economy. No love child had ever existed as sweet for two nations: an entire international regime. But as the years passed, England lost his relevancy while America did not.

Years of mistakes, impulsivity, rash actions—all in the name of good intentions—all of it, left America dry, and as all hegemons are bound to experience through their moral order experiments, he lost his strength. They'd noted it once, together, and then never spoke of it again. There was no new hegemon—the international system was not fertile for it, and it was assumed hegemony, mischievous love-child of power and morality, had finally been put down for a nap.

But even now as England lay next to America, he could feel it in the air.

"I mean, I don't have my strength back or anything. I—I couldn't even move you from here without some struggling," America hiccupped, hiding his face between his legs.

"Is that right?" England coughed, "I thought perhaps you'd been told you couldn't take me from my land. That would be invasive, wouldn't it, America?"

"Ah," America's head snapped back up in terror, "w—well there's that, too, but…" He looked away, cheeks a blazing red, "they said they'd bring in a team; the United Nations is back in working order. We're getting missions together for a lot of countries; I told them here first. But I'm not leaving you alone, Artie, I'm—"

"As I said," England interrupted and rubbed at his eyes, hiding his face in the shadowy corner of his elbow, "you'll need to learn to act less out of instinct, and more out of habit—including with your favoritism. You weren't very good about it the first time, America. Perhaps I'm partly to blame. You and I—both of us—we created the international regime your first time. Maybe it's best you will be alone this time." He let out a racketeered breathe, "Y—you should do things differently this time. Be selfish for once, America. Focus on yourself. Don't be quick to always feel as if you need to be the world's hero. You were always too impulsive, but especially during your years as a hegemon. No one ever appreciates, much less loves the hegemon, no matter if the road to hell he paves is based on good intentions."

There was much tension in the air, thick like mud, and America was almost afraid of having to waddle through it alone in search for England's own good intentions. The many decades they had spent dancing around each other, pretending not to love each other between insults and angry comebacks, all of it, he'd hoped it would end, and yet, here he was, being slapped in the face with the knowledge of the power he had once possessed and always wanted back.

He had almost expected England to be proud, to be excited by the prospect of reclaiming the world together and yet…

America smiled, breathing slowly through his nose to keep his voice from cracking from the pressure mounting inside his chest. He grabbed hold of England's hand, pressing it lightly, "well," he gulped, hard, "you love me, don't ya, England?"

England pulled his hand away. "No. As a dying country, I cannot love one being reborn."

"N—no…?" – his chest caved in from the pressure, and he could feel his hands turning into fists, almost ready to punch the other, but then he saw England move, slowly shift onto his side to stare up at America from the ground. "Artie, that's not fair. England, I—I lov…"

"—But I will always love Alfred," England sniffed, cupping the other's cheek, "I was never a very good mentor to you, America. Shush, lad, and let me be honest; this might be the last time I ever am. I did not love you at first, America; as a country, I loved many other colonies far more than you—they were more prosperous, needed less investment, gave me far greater economic freedoms. But as a man, I only ever cared for my little Alfred. There is a line drawn among nations between who we are as nations, and who we are as people… and sometimes I fear I never quite taught you that distinction."

"England…"

"So, Alfred, if you're going to say you love me, then do so. But know that it is not England that returns your love, but Arthur."

"I don't understand; why are you always saying stupid things I can't understand and that you probably don't even mean?" America sobbed, letting his fingers dig into the other's clothes, pulling him with his renewed strength. Both stopped, eyeing each other momentarily—and then there was a sudden recognition: America's strength, after years of having disappeared, was faintly returning.

England smirked, "Well, lad."

"No, no, no… I don't want it again…"

"Now," England cupped America's other cheek, finding comfort in the way his body was half-suspended by America's fingertips—all that strength, only in his fingertips, "you and I both know that's a lie, America."

There was hegemony.

"Until politics are a branch of science we shall do well to regard political and social reforms as experiments rather than short-cuts to the millennium."
J. B. S. Haldane

United Nations Security Council
November 30th, 2090

The meeting was called to order at 8.05 a.m.

Adoption of the agenda

The agenda was adopted.

The present condition and future of the United Kingdom

Report of the Secretary-General on the
United Nations Integrated Mission in
the United Kingdom (S/2090/1563)

The President:I should like to inform the Council that I have received letters from the representatives of Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and Portugal, as well as from the human personification of the United States of America, in which they request to be invited to participate in the consideration of the item on the Council's agenda. In conformity with the usual practice, I propose, with the consent of the Council, to invite those representatives to participate in the consideration of the item, without the right to vote, in accordance with the relevant provisions of the Charter and rule 37 of the Council's provisional rules of procedure.

There being no objection, it is so decided.

At the invitation of the President, Mr. Alfred F. Jones (United States of America) took a seat at the Council table; the representatives of the other aforementioned countries took the seats reserved for them at the side of the Council Chamber.

The President:In accordance with the understanding reached in the Council's prior consultations, I shall take it that the Security Council agrees to extend an invitation under rule 39 of its provisional rules of procedure to Mr. Arthur Kirkland, Special Representative of the Delegation and Human Personification for the United Kingdom. It is so decided. I invite Mr. Kirkland to take a seat at the Council table.

In accordance with the understanding reached in the Council's prior consultations, I shall take it that the
Security Council agrees to extend an invitation under rule 39 of its provisional rules of procedure to His Excellency Mr. Daniel Kristoff, head of the delegation of the European Union to the United Nations.
It is so decided.

I invite Mr. Kristoff to take the seat reserved for him at the side of the Council Chamber.

The Security Council will now begin its consideration of the item on its agenda. The Council is meeting in accordance with the understanding reached in its prior consultations. I wish to draw the attention of Council members to document S/2090/1563, which contains the report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Integrated Mission in the United Kingdom.

At this meeting, the Security Council will hear a briefing by Mr. Arthur Kirkland, to whom I now give the floor.

Mr. Kirkland:Thank you, Mr. President, for the opportunity to introduce the report of the Secretary General (S/2090/1563) on the United Nations Integrated Mission in the United Kingdom (UNIMUK), covering the period from 03 January to 30 October 2090.

At the outset, I would like to pay special tribute to Mr. Alfred F. Jones, my dear colleague and friend. He has made several important contributions in advancing the causes of peace and stability in the United Kingdom, and for that, and on behalf of my people, I thank him.

As the report notes, the security and political situation has finally stabilized, allowing State institutions the space to focus on the country's longer-term war-reparation challenges, many of which, as the report states, we are unlikely to meet under the strains of our current budget deficits. This can be observed in the political debate, which has generally moved beyond backward looking discussions on how to move past the events of the perhaps too recently ended war, to forward-looking discussions on how to build on the gains made and ensure the future prosperity and stability of the United Kingdom. This trend, thus far, has not been much affected by the resignation of Prime Minister James Wright, or the indictments recently prepared against two members of his Cabinet.

Many plans, strategies and institutions have been developed with a longer-term focus in mind, including a new package of national security laws and the draft of the required Strategic Development Plan. Both are critical initial steps on the road ahead; however, their implementation will require a sustained momentum in efforts to tackle systemic, institutional and political fragilities, all of which are challenges currently faced by the United Kingdom.

In hopes to not waste the Committee's time, I should like to primarily state the reason, perhaps, as to why we are currently meeting in session.

Though we have been greatly helped by much international aid during this time period, it has been decided by the government of the United Kingdom that the best option for the continued growth and development of its member countries is to provisionally dissolve so as to best serve the needs of the people.

I.

I'm sorry. I can't. I'm really sorry. I just can't continue the briefing.

The President:Mr. Kirkland, I thank you for your briefing; if you are finished, then I will now give the floor to the representative from New Zealand.

Mr. Jones:Hey, it's obvious he's not done. Give him some time. It's hard having to admit your country has to disband. I know for all of you, that's just like seeing a country become a bunch of tiny countries, but for him, that's like, his brothers died, and sure, he didn't like them, but they were still his family.

The President:Mr. Jones, I must ask you to practice absolute decorum and wait your respective turn, else I will be forced to have security escort you off the premises. I now give the floor to the representative from New Zealand.

Mr. Barton (New Zealand):In an act of solidarity, the delegation from New Zealand would like to yield its time to the United States.

Mr. Jones (United States):Since one of my guys is already sitting at the front, I'm going to assume he's referring to me. Good morning everyone, my name is Alfred F. Jones and I am the United States of America. I'm sorry for my informality, but I didn't actually plan on giving a briefing, though I'm glad to do it. As we all know, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has historically been a committed and well-respected member of the international regime. World War III has wrecked great devastation upon all nations, but for a previous super-power, one that has recently had to lose its seat in the United Nations Security Council, and a half-destroyed nation, it is particularly difficult to overcome the possibility of becoming a failed state. Now, everyone knows that the United Kingdom is not going to become a failed state, but it will need all the help it can, and it cannot retain its union, so it must opt for devolution. Well, I have another option. And it's not one that Arthur's going to like very much, but it is an option that I would like to present for possible consideration by this committee: I, Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America, would like to request the permission of this body to acquiesce the United Kingdom and absorb it as part of the United States.

Ms. McCullough (Canada):This is the level of favoritism that the delegation from Canada is here to counter. This delegate, for one, has the full weight of her government backing the expansion of both military and economic aid to the United Kingdom for an indefinite period of time with the hopes that we can prevent the expansion of the United States of America during this great period of strife. The absorption of an entire country, especially one with a long legacy of sovereignty and democracy, by another, would leave behind a precedent that could dangerously tip the balance of peace the world is currently experiencing. Should this body grant any consideration to Mr. Jones' proposal, it would be to allow the United States of America a blank check to invade any country it deems in need of extreme aid.

We stand in solidarity, and against the militarization and invasion of a country…

The President:Decorum, delegates. Mr. Jones still holds the floor.

Mr. Jones: Wait a minute, I'm not talking about invasion—this would be fully consensual! I know no one in this room is happy that the United Kingdom has to disband; I'm not happy about it either, but the international community cannot pool all its funds in the defense of the United Kingdom. There are many nations in need of reconstruction funds, which is why my proposition works best—it takes this one country out of the equation, no one has to worry about it anymore, and efforts can be maintained to help support the other countries that still require every single little bit of help we can provide. I have nothing else to say. I mean, I'll open it up for questions, but I don't think that's how it works here, right?—Maybe I'm thinking about the General Assembly.

The President:Thank you, Mr. Jones. I now yield the floor to the representative from Canada.

Ms. McCullough:Completely base and not even deserving of consideration. This delegation would like to point out that the nations of Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Portugal have been important members of UNIMUK, and have consistently reported the great strides the nation is making. The concept of devolution saddens everyone greatly, but such a matter should not be exploited by countries like the United States to be taken as an invitation to promote neocolonialism across the globe. What country will come next? – Perhaps Germany? Or maybe it will be Norway? More countries than the United Kingdom experienced great tragedies. Certainly, none were hit by a hydrogen bomb, but none of them would consider a proposal the like Mr. Jones has made. Thank you, Mr. President.

The President:I have received a request from the delegate from the United States to address the accusation from the delegate from Canada. Request has been granted. The delegate has 30 seconds.

Mr. Jones: I feel like the delegate from Canada is not adequately representing Canada. Ms. McCullough, do you know how much aid has gone to Canada from the United States? – How much of that money is indirectly funding UNIMUK? One thing is to say my proposal shouldn't be up for consideration, and another is to call me imperialistic. I am a country that stands for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. There's no need to insult me. Let me just add that this would all be on a provisional basis.

The President:Thank you. I now give the floor to the delegate from France.

Ms. Venesque(France): The Republic of France would just like to extend a courteous thanks to the United States for its unconditional aid to all countries in need, but would like to point out to the rest of the countries currently represented in this body that we are here to discuss UNIMUK. This body has no business interfering with the state of affairs of the United Kingdom should it choose to disband, much less should it choose to join with the United States in a political union. The only time the UNSC would be able to intervene would be if the United States invaded the United Kingdom. On that note, we would further encourage the United Kingdom to reconsider its plans for devolution as such a measure would make the implementation of reforms more difficult. While we concur that a more localized approach to addressing post-war reparation and reconstruction should be implemented immediately, the rise of many different governments will make it difficult for this body to aid it fully—a centralized government is best to counter any possible anarchic tendencies that might stem in the system. I yield the rest of my remaining time to China.

Mr. Wong (People's Republic of China): This delegate would personally like to hear from the United Kingdom. We are here as a forum to provide possible solutions to a member nation that is on the verge of becoming a failed state should it choose to divide. On our part, the PRC would like to point out that it has given substantial aid to affected countries of Asia and certain member of Europe, among which is the United Kingdom, but we cannot for long continue to subsidize the United Kingdom, especially now considering its sudden desire to devolve. The very statement made by the delegate completely counters any signs of stability in the report. We would like to set a vote in motion after listening from the UK delegate and perhaps reconvene at a later date. There are several other pressing issues, and given that three of the current UNSC voting nations are at odds, we will not get a unanimous vote and have little opportunity to contribute to the discussion. We should move the agenda to the current situation in Japan.

The President: Thank you both. At this point, based on an executive decision, this body would like to hear from the United Kingdom. The floor is yielded.

Mr. Kirkland: I fear that I am not in an emotional position, much less a political one, to comment on what should be done in regards to my country other than our decision to devolve. I am deeply concerned by the recently made comments that aid would be withheld by any nation should the United Kingdom finalize devolution. Sanctions over governmental decisions for the betterment of a nation's current crisis are unfounded and would be detrimental to our continued growth, thus pushing us to accept the offer from the United States, instead of helping us avoid it.

The President:At this moment, are there any pending motions on the floor. Yes, the delegate from Portugal is recognized.

Ms. Silva (Portugal): Motion to close the speakers list in order to enter voting procedure—over whether to close the agenda.

The President: I will require two speakers for and two speakers against. Speakers for: Portugal, China. Speakers against: no speakers against? Then the motion automatically passes. We are now in voting procedure.

All those in favor of closing the agenda. All those against.

The motion passes with a two-thirds majority. The agenda has now been closed. Thank you delegates. We will reconvene at a later date to discuss a future agenda.

"Character, in the long run, is the decisive factor in the life of an individual and of nations alike."
Theodore Roosevelt

"Hey England, hey, wait," America ran out of the room, holding onto his many binders, trying to catch up to the shorter blonde and his delegation. "I said wait!"

Slowly, England turned around, pursing his lips into a taut line. "America, I'm really not in the mood at the moment."

"I know, listen, about what happened in there, I just wanted to say that I'm not giving up on this."

"I wish you would. Don't you remember even one bit about that conversation we had in December?"

"We've had a lot of conversations, England," America grinned, chuckling in an attempt to ease some of the tension in the air. "I don't remember half of them."

"I told you to be selfish, America. To worry about yourself for once. It's obvious you didn't listen to me, else you wouldn't be shooting your money every which way as if you had a toy cannon you were just dying to use," England huffed, turning on his heel to walk out of the crowding hallway.

"Hey, hey," America barely grabbed his wrist, "what are you talking about? – In there, I—"

"Stop fighting for a dying nation, America. There's nothing you, or anyone can do at this point. I've accepted it, and so should you—if you have any respect left for me. Now good afternoon, America; I will see you tomorrow at the General Assembly."

America dodged past a crowd of people, trotting until he was able to slide in front of England, and with furrowed brows, he let both his hands fall on the other's shoulders. An array of thick binders fell on the ground, and England had to jump around to avoid them hitting his toes. America cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension on his fingers, fearful that he might break the other's bones in his carelessness, and along the way, he focused his blue gaze on graying green. "I am being selfish, England. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me."

The shorter blonde blinked, unsure of what to say, his lips dry and his throat burning. "A—America…"

"Now, like I said: I'm not giving up, Arthur, so you better not give up either."

With that, America kneeled on the floor, picking up his many binders, watching as England's legs walked around him. And when he looked up, he saw England looking back.