Yep! I'm back, after a break of a few months. I needed it.
With the US midterm elections coming up in a few weeks, I decided to write a political story. Don't worry; it won't ALL be about politics, just some more humorous aspects of it. Although I follow my country's politics fairly closely, I can't promise that all the details displayed here are accurate to how the White House actually works. I'm using some artistic license, which we're allowed to do as fanfiction authors.
Additionally, as always, feedback is appreciated. Happy reading.
It was early afternoon on a chilly autumn day, and President Fiddlesticks sat by the window, carefully scanning the landscape below.
To most people, even those who had never been in an aircraft before, the view would have been nothing special. In contrast to views of castles and forests like there were in Europe, there wasn't much to see Stateside but urban sprawl.
Fiddlesticks didn't mind that, though. He liked having a bird's-eye view of the suburbs and countryside, because it reminded him why he was pushing for the bill. It helped him stay grounded, no pun intended.
Eventually Air Force One began making its final descent into the beautiful city of Washington, DC. Even though he'd been President for almost a year now, President Fiddlesticks couldn't help but marvel at the architecture every time he returned from an event. There was something about the capital that you only appreciated once you lived there.
"We'll be landing in five minutes, Drywall," the pilot said over the intercom.
Fiddlesticks couldn't help but chuckle at the D-word. It may have been his code name, meant to be used for a very serious purpose indeed, but that didn't mean some levity wasn't in order.
The helicopter made its way lower and lower, past the fall foliage beside the National Mall, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and all the other landmarks of the nation's capital. Despite the cold weather, it made the President feel warm and fuzzy inside when he saw these buildings.
We're going to make this place even more spectacular, Fiddlesticks assured himself. We're going to build back better, for lack of a better term.
A few minutes later, as promised, the helicopter touched down on the lawn of the White House. With its stark white facade, Roman columns, and giant American flag flying over the roof, the Official Residence was quite a sight to behold. Even if you were one of the few people entitled to live there, it always felt special to approach it.
The President disembarked from the helicopter. His knees had seen better days, considering that he was in his mid-seventies, but on the whole, he had little to complain about. Plenty of men didn't reach 75, let alone still be in good enough shape for the hardest job in the world at that age.
Fiddlesticks' mobile phone buzzed. The newfangled contraption wasn't something he'd grown up utilizing, but just like every boomer thrust into a world of technology, he had to live and learn. He picked up the phone.
"Who are you?" the President asked, probably sounding like he'd just been awoken from a nap. Really, that was an apt analogy, considering how trance-like his state could be when admiring Washington DC.
"It's your Secretary of Transportation, sir" a younger male voice announced, and Fiddlesticks had to admit that yes, it was the Secretary of Transportation. There was no mistaking the voice, even if he forgot his Cabinet's phone numbers sometimes. Not dementia; just regular, organic decline.
"Why are you calling me?" Fiddlesticks responded gruffly. "I'll be in there shortly."
"Because I don't want to rock your world," the Transportation Secretary said. "I want you to be prepared for the news."
"Whatever it is, just spit it out," the President shot back. "Did Natalia have a heart attack or something?"
"No, it's not that. The First Lady is fine - but the country may not be if we don't get this thing passed."
"Believe me, I know," Fiddlesticks replied. "Infrastructure is imperative, after all - any country needs its roads up to date."
"Again, it's not what you think it is," the Transportation Secretary told the President. "Just come in and meet us in the Situation Room."
Although the light breeze made the afternoon perfect for walking the First Dog, Yap, Fiddlesticks knew that it wasn't in the cards. When his Transportation Secretary (or any other member of his Cabinet) called him before a meeting, something was out of the ordinary. Something had gone wrong. And, as much as he may have liked to ignore it, he couldn't.
He was the President, after all.
"I'll be there" Fiddlesticks promised his underling. He then put his phone away and strode confidently across the lawn, flanked by several Secret Service officials.
"Drywall, do you need assistance?" one of them asked him.
The President shook his head. "I'll be fine, okay? No malarkey about that."
Though he was getting up there in years, and thus had all the aches and pains of an elderly man, he felt as energetic as ever as he entered the White House through the lawn door. The idea that he needed to be escorted everywhere like a pathetic little kid was, quite frankly, insulting.
Fiddlesticks made his way into the Situation Room, where the various members of his Cabinet were already seated around the long, rectangular table. One seat in particular was reserved for the President: The one with the American flag next to the flag with the presidential seal.
The Cabinet Secretaries were all glancing expectantly at the President, as though they expected him to have all the answers. Fiddlesticks did not engage them, instead walking quietly around the table to his designated chair.
Most of the time, Fiddlesticks was the one with the answers; that much was true. However, today he had more questions than answers.
The Secretary of Transportation, a rather short man with average-length dark hair, looked up from his notepad as the President took his seat.
"Well? What was it, Secretary Lawrence?" Fiddlesticks asked the aforementioned Cabinet member.
"The news I wanted to bring you?" Secretary Lawrence replied.
"Why, yes. Come on, man, I want you to be transparent with me."
"About that…" the Transportation Secretary began, trailing off. "Well, suffice it to say that it's not good news. I don't know if you can handle it."
"Why not? You think I'm too old for this?"
The other Cabinet Secretaries glared at Secretary Lawrence, who had just put himself on the spot. Fiddlesticks, of course, knew just how much power he had over Lawrence; he was the one who'd put his Cabinet where they were, and he could take their positions away from them too. With the snap of his fingers, he could fire them.
Fortunately for Secretary Lawrence, I'm not that type.
"I didn't say that at all!" Secretary Lawrence insisted. "I just wanted to tread carefully; I knew this was your signature accomplishment; at least, you wanted it to be."
"And?"
Vice President Randolph, seated just to Fiddlesticks' right, turned to face his boss with a grave expression. And he uttered the following words:
"Negotiations on your transportation infrastructure bill have stalled in the Senate. The Republicans are demanding cuts to Social Security and Medicare in exchange for their votes on the bill."
Fiddlesticks narrowed his eyes at his VP. "What did I just say about no malarkey?"
"This isn't malarkey" Vice President Randolph responded curtly. "It's true. The GOP isn't going to back down from their position. We'll end up in a stalemate unless you want to shut down the government."
The President would never forget the last time there had been a government shutdown. Salaries for federal workers hadn't been paid. National parks, the nation's last gorgeous frontiers, hadn't been taken care of. And nearest to his heart, transportation delays had grown ever more commonplace.
Fiddlesticks shook his head. "We're not going to shut down the government over this. But it must pass, one way or another."
"The only other way to pass the bill", the Press Secretary jumped in, "would be to eliminate the filibuster."
"The filibuster shouldn't exist anyway" Randolph interjected, wiping off one of the lenses of his glasses. "Nuke it into smithereens and leave nothing but a radioactive crater in its place. What's the point? Just to keep it as a Jim Crow relic?"
"Unfortunately", Secretary Lawrence responded, "two Senators remain steadfastly opposed to eliminating the filibuster. They claim that they're not going to vote to get rid of it under any circumstances."
"That is very unfortunate indeed" Fiddlesticks replied. "I'll make sure to endorse their primary challengers next cycle."
"If we can't eliminate the filibuster", VP Randolph continued, "and we're not going to shut down the government, we need to break them somehow."
"Break them?" the President enquired. "A lot of them are older than me. Are you suggesting that we…".
"I mean we should psychologically break them," the Vice President responded. "You could go all Dark Fiddlesticks on them. Make sure they know that you'll campaign against them like there's no tomorrow. After all…".
"If you don't fight like hell, you're not going to have a country anymore" replied President Fiddlesticks. "Yeah, I remember when the former guy said that."
"So we have to put some pork in the bill," Secretary Lawrence said. "Maybe add funding for some better water infrastructure. We'll make it so that if they vote against it, they'll have a hell of a time explaining it to their constituents. They'll fall in line after that."
The Press Secretary rolled her eyes. "I don't know if it'll work. But I suppose we have to at least try. The country is counting on us."
"Exactly" Fiddlesticks responded, running a hand through his thinning white hair. "It's imperative that we get this done, for the sake of the American people. No matter what we have to do - unless it involves shutting down the government."
And just like that, an agreement was reached. President Andreas Fiddlesticks and his Cabinet had settled on a solution, and the President couldn't have been happier about it. Perhaps now he could take Yap for a walk.
Of course, it's been said that you just can't have nice things. Just because you're the President of the United States doesn't mean you're immune to that adage being true. At that very moment, Fiddlesticks remembered that he had another obligation.
"This meeting is adjourned," the President asserted. "It's almost time for me to give my weekly address."
"About that…" the Press Secretary interjected.
"Come on, woman" Fiddlesticks replied. "Just tell me what it is. Spit it out!"
"Before you give your address, there's a new rumor coming out all over the country. It's that a major multimedia franchise is real."
The President frowned. "Of course the media is real. That's why my approval ratings are in the toilet."
"No," the Press Secretary responded. "What I mean is that people believe it depicts real events. Just…this is supposed to be classified, so come into the next room with me."
Fiddlesticks sighed. If it's so classified, why did Secretary Rosalina even mention it here?
Nonetheless, he stood up and followed Secretary Rosalina into the next room. It was there that the Press Secretary turned to face him, clutching her tablet computer to her lapel.
"Okay" President Fiddlesticks said. "I don't know that this is the most prudent place to discuss classified intelligence, but go for it. What's up today, minus the malarkey?"
Rosalina laughed dryly. "A rumor has spread on far-right message boards, as well as Facebook and Twitter, that Pokémon exist in the real world."
Fiddlesticks frowned. "Pokémon? You mean, those pocket monsters that kids play with, including my grandkids?"
Rosalina nodded.
"But I already knew that," the President replied. "I've seen the cards all over that house. Of course Pokémon exist."
"You still don't get it," the Press Secretary snapped. "Pokémon cards aren't actually the creatures themselves. But a lot of people think that Q, or whoever showed up on the alt-tech platforms, spoke to them. Pokémon, at least in these peoples' minds, are actual creatures somewhere in the galaxy."
"And they might invade?" Fiddlesticks responded. "Jesus Christ, what kind of malarkey is that?"
Rosalina sighed almost angrily. "How should I know, Andreas? Nobody knows what's going on; that's why people are so terrified. And that's your job as President, to reassure the public that nothing is wrong."
"I can't give them malarkey, though" Fiddlesticks told his Press Secretary. "If something's terribly wrong, the American people have a right to know about it."
"But aren't you concerned about your approval ratings, Andreas? If they fall any further - and they've got a lot further to fall - the question will no longer be if the Republicans regain Congress. It'll be the size of their majorities. And you don't want to deal with that, do you?"
No. Of course not. I don't want to get impeached, have billions of investigations, all that jazz. There can't be any malarkey in this country.
"No. I don't."
"Then go in for your weekly address and tell the American people what they want to hear. Make sure they know that whatever happens, you'll be a competent leader through it all. That's why they elected you, you know."
"Well, what do they want to hear?" Fiddlesticks responded. "Is it malarkey, or is it the cold, hard truth?"
The Press Secretary sighed. "Just go before the cameras, Andreas, and tell them the truth. Which is that you're working to ensure that any threat from a Pokémon civilization will be neutralized. You're doing your best to make sure the country's better off today than it was with the former guy in office."
"Okay" President Fiddlesticks replied. "Should I tell them that we're readying the military defenses? Assure them that we'll have enough hospital beds for any alien viruses they bring us?"
And then Rosalina did something she hadn't done all day. She smiled.
"Whatever works, Andreas. Whatever you need to say to comfort them, say it, and then back it up with action. Tell them what concrete steps you're taking in order to prepare. And then do it. Promises made, promises kept."
"What I don't quite understand", Fiddlesticks said quietly, "is how everyone can believe this shit. The previous presidential election was stolen, vaccines have 5G in them, and Pokémon are real."
"Misinformation is a powerful, powerful thing," Rosalina replied. "If you put people in a social media echo chamber, you can get them to believe almost anything. That's how damaging it can be."
After a few more words exchanged between the President and his Press Secretary, it was time for the weekly address. Fiddlesticks had to enter the room alone for it - no other officials could be seen with him.
He was not, however, alone from his thoughts.
Maybe the QAnon people have a point. The President is indeed battling a cabal, but THIS cabal is all that disinformation I'm forced to deal with on a daily basis. But I'm going to fight and win, because that's what Americans do.
"It's time, Andreas."
The President looked down at the floor and strode into the press room.