I'm on a roll, aren't I? The lab, the lab, the lab's on fire, as they say!
Here's the next chapter. This one contains copious amounts of political humor, so if that's your kind of thing, you'll hopefully love it. I'd like to thank my new story followers on Time Will Crawl, Phoenix2099 and starfett13, and may there be many more! Enjoy!
Current music: Great Spirits - Phil Collins/Tina Turner
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2024 - 9:00 AM (THREE DAYS BEFORE)
President Andreas Fiddlesticks had barely finished eating breakfast with the First Lady when a knock came at the door.
"I'll get it, cornpop," the President told his wife, gingerly standing up from the table. His back cracked a bit when he did this, but whatever - that was just a function of being 81.
As the President shuffled over to the door, he couldn't help but wonder who was visiting him at this odd hour. Usually he was allowed at least some time after breakfast to read his daily briefing in peace.
"Oh, hello there" President Fiddlesticks said upon opening the door and seeing the face on the other hand.
It was his Chief of Staff, Henry Hammer. The bespectacled man with thinning dark brown hair wore a no-nonsense expression on his face, which was typical for him.
"Good morning, Mr. President" Hammer replied. "Actually, though, it's hardly a good morning."
"What do you mean?" the first lady, (whose name was Angelina Fiddlesticks), replied.
"I am sorry, Mrs. First Lady, but that is something I cannot tell you. It'll become apparent soon enough, though - things move very quickly these days."
A series of jumbled thoughts ran through the President's mind. Had another country invaded its neighbor? Had the former guy decided to launch another insurrection? Had his last physical shown that he needed to stop eating ice cream?
"There's no time to explain," the Chief of Staff said curtly. "Mr. President, you'll come with me to the Situation Room. Now."
President Fiddlesticks looked longingly at his lovely wife, with whom he'd fallen in love with many years prior, but was still just as attractive as she'd been back in the 1970s. And he regretted that he'd most likely be unable to eat lunch with her today, depending on what the meeting entailed.
"What's going on, Chief?" President Fiddlesticks asked Hammer. "Do I need to stop eating ice cream?"
Hammer didn't laugh as he shook his head. "It's far more serious than that, Mr. President."
"But does it have to do with my health?"
The Chief of Staff seemed to weigh the question carefully as he escorted the President toward the Situation Room. Finally, he responded.
"Yes and no. It's about the perception that you are mentally unfit for the job."
"Dang it" the President muttered. He thought about what it would mean to be diagnosed with dementia, for his body and mind to waste away. And that process wasn't quick, either; he might live ten years or more, increasingly unable to remember the faces of the people he loved.
To make matters worse, he did feel a little more forgetful as of late. It wasn't that stark a difference, but part of him just felt out of it, the "brain fog" associated with being mildly ill.
"Now, don't worry, you haven't been diagnosed with Alzheimer's or any other type of dementia" Hammer replied, as though that were supposed to make his boss feel any better whatsoever. "But there's the diagnosis that comes from a doctor, and then there's that from the general public."
"But why should they care?" the President all but whined.
"Because you're the President of the United States" the Chief of Staff snapped. "Like it or not, when you speak, people listen. When you fail to speak with sufficient eloquence, people will think you're not up for the job. You'll have a chance to prove them wrong soon."
The President was led into the Situation Room, where his Cabinet sat around a long, narrow wooden table. This was by design. Forget the old stories about the Round Table where there was no hierarchy; Andreas Fiddlesticks was in charge, and he wanted each department head to know it.
"I'm not senile" the President insisted as he took his position in the center of the table. "I know exactly what happened yesterday. I'm Andreas Fiddlesticks, President of the United States, and my wife's name is Angelina!"
As Hammer took a seat right across from the President, the Chief of Staff frowned. It was then that an indescribable feeling seized the President and refused to let go.
Wasn't I here three days ago?
He couldn't remember all the details - hell, he couldn't even tell you what the main point of the meeting was! He just knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this situation had occurred before.
"So, Mr. President," Hammer began, "I have informed you why you are here."
Everything felt hazy as President Fiddlesticks tried to recall what had been said at the meeting three days ago. The memory eluded him, though, much like a gazelle sprinting away from its prey.
"Wh-why am I here?" the President wondered aloud. "Are you going to invoke the 25th Amendment?"
The 25th Amendment to the United States Constitution could be activated at any time by the Vice President and a majority of the Cabinet, which would then remove the President from office. This was meant to be done if the President was incapacitated or otherwise deemed unfit to perform the duties of the office anymore. The fact that his Cabinet had all called him here seemed a surefire sign that they were at least considering it.
"No" the Secretary of Transportation, a dark-skinned woman named Laura Howell, stated matter-of-factly. "We would never betray you like that."
"She's right, you know," Hammer told his boss. "If we were going to invoke the 25th, we wouldn't tell you about it. We wouldn't ask for your input, we'd just do it. So no, that's not what this meeting is about."
"But it's about my mental fitness," President Fiddlesticks replied. "You told me it was about my mental fitness."
"It does not matter so much what the reality is," said another Cabinet Secretary (Secretary of Health and Human Services Michael Apollo). "What matters is what people believe. The Republicans in Congress want to -".
"I don't give a damn what they want to do!" President Fiddlesticks bellowed. "I'm the President! You know it, they know it, everyone knows it!"
"Of course you're the President," the HHS Secretary responded. "But Presidents can be impeached, and that's exactly what the Speaker of the House intends to do. Articles of impeachment have been filed - ".
"By whom? Those rowdy whipper-snappers in the Freedom Caucus?"
"They still have power, though," Secretary Howell pointed out. "They can still impeach you, even if their reasons for doing so are frivolous at best."
President Fiddlesticks put his head in his hands. "That's a bunch of malarkey," he muttered. "They're going to impeach me with no cause whatsoever."
The Chief of Staff shrugged. "Welcome to America, Mr. President. When the opposition party controls the House, they're going to do whatever they can to sabotage the President."
"We had this conversation three days ago, didn't we?" President Fiddlesticks asked. "Yes, I'm certain we did!"
As stated above, the President couldn't remember the ultimate outcome of this discussion, just that it had occurred in the first place. He knew that by voicing this thought aloud, he'd be opening himself up to the doubts of his Cabinet secretaries, but he couldn't resist.
Indeed, the reaction from Hammer was almost instantaneous. The Chief of Staff gasped, his eyes wide open and full of what looked like panic.
"We have to talk about this, Mr. President," Hammer told his boss. "You think this conversation occurred three days ago…".
"I don't think so," President Fiddlesticks snapped. "I know so."
"Well, how do you know?" HHS Secretary Apollo enquired. "We have the records of the meeting three days ago - Monday, January 29, 2024. We did not discuss the articles of impeachment."
"We didn't?" the President wondered aloud. "That's funny. I could have sworn we did."
Hammer gave his boss a pitying look, much like the way you'd look at a pet dog you're about to have put down.
"We can talk about this later," Secretary Howell asserted. "There will be plenty of time in the future to discuss what we should do about it. But right now, our primary concern is the trial."
"Trial?" President Fiddlesticks enquired. "What…what did I do? What have I been accused of?"
Hammer grimaced, squirming a bit in his seat as he did so. Secretary Apollo was the next person to talk.
"Look, Mr. President," the HHS Secretary told his boss, "I don't know what's come over you today. But you're going to play right into the GOP's narrative if you testify at your impeachment trial. Right now, they're arguing that you're unfit to stand trial, and the average American voter is going to agree when they see you thinking that we had this conversation three days ago."
"But it's not true!" the President barked. "It happened!"
"Maybe it did, maybe it didn't" Hammer replied, though he still sounded rather uncomfortable saying this. "But with all due respect, Mr. President - and there's a lot of it - perception is very often reality in politics. You know how it goes here."
Once more, the President glanced down at the table. He didn't like Situation Room meetings at the best of times, but when the meeting concerned such matters as this, he hated it even more.
President Fiddlesticks shook his head slowly. "Why did I take this job anyway? I'm too old for this shit."
"That's exactly the argument we can't make at the impeachment trial," Secretary Apollo pointed out. "It's going to play right into their narrative."
"Ah, fiddlesticks."
There were no chuckles around the table at this pun. Quite the opposite - the Cabinet secretaries glanced awkwardly at one another, and the President couldn't help but wonder if they were indeed going to invoke the 25th.
"Look, Mr. President," Hammer told his boss. "You ran for office because you said we were in a battle for the soul of this country. You won enough delegates to become the nominee. And enough people voted for you to win the Electoral College. That's generally how one becomes President of the United States, is it not?"
"Enough about that," Secretary Howell snapped. "We're not giving the President of the United States a civics lesson right now. We don't have time."
"That's right," Hammer admitted. Turning back to his boss, the Chief of Staff said the following:
"The House is expected to vote on the articles of impeachment this afternoon. The vote is scheduled for 2:00 PM, and we can't count on any Republican Congresspeople missing the vote. We have to assume that the vote will succeed."
The President sighed. "So I'll be impeached."
"Again," Hammer replied, "that's to be expected. The Republicans are going to use whatever powers they have to sabotage your reelection campaign, and we don't have any Delphox magic to stop the impeachment."
President Fiddlesticks frowned. "Del…Delta Fox? Like one of America's great airlines?"
Nobody even laughed at that, not that the President had expected them to. Hammer ran his hands through his thinning hair, grimacing once again.
"I'm talking about Delphox, Mr. President. A Pokémon species, the evolved form of Braixen, which is itself an evolved form of Fennekin."
"Huh," the President mouthed. "Isn't Pokémon a game franchise that lots of kids play? I know my grandkids enjoy it."
Secretary Howell narrowed her eyes. "Pokémon are real in this world. You've lived among them for 81 years, Mr. President, haven't you? You should know that."
"I thought…I thought I did," President Fiddlesticks admitted. "I guess I didn't…you're real, right? I swear, I haven't had that much."
The Cabinet secretaries all shared glances of concern, but then Secretary Apollo addressed his boss directly.
"Mr. President," he said, "I think it's best if you don't do too much talking at the trial. Indeed, you don't have to be present at all - you could go play Scrabble with Angelina if you'd like."
President Fiddlesticks sighed. "I guess…I guess I'll do that. I dunno, I guess I'm just a bit foggy-headed today."
Secretary Howell chuckled warmly. "Yes, I think we're all well aware of that."
"We have to discuss the best defense strategy for the trial," Hammer announced. "We've only got a few hours before the articles are voted on, so we'd better be quick. The Republicans are going to argue that you've lost your marbles and that you're now unfit for office. The Democrats, as well as your lawyers, have to rebut those arguments. At least in theory, since they're bringing the case, they need to meet the burden of proof. We just have to attack their case until there's nothing left of it."
"It's political, though" President Fiddlesticks mumbled.
"Of course it's political, Mr. President" Secretary Howell muttered. "That's just how it is, and that's just how it goes."
A couple hundred miles north from the Situation Room of the White House, a TV host sat at his computer, listening intently to the audio feed coming from the President's home.
Cameron A. Buckley snorted, his concentration hardly wavering as he did so. Yes, this practice of wiretapping was illegal, but just because something was against the law didn't mean it was wrong. After all, humans didn't write the moral law - God did.
"Oh my God!" the host exclaimed. "Actually, Lord, sorry for using your name in vain! Anyway, let's get a load of this!"
Cameron listened to the tape once more, and he could hardly believe what he'd just heard. The President of the United States had just said something so demented, he was surely senile. And to have such a man in charge of the nuclear arsenal was beyond belief.
"Guys!" Cameron bellowed, even though he was well aware that there was nobody else in the room. "I've got to tell my listeners right now!"
He sprang out of his chair and grabbed his microphone. After turning the podcast software's settings to record his every word, Cameron gave a quick chuckle.
"Good morning, America! I'm your host, Cameron A. Buckley, and I'm right here with a brand new episode of I'm Gonna Buck You!"
Cameron hesitated for a moment as he tried to decide how best to break this news. His usual jovial personality likely wouldn't do when discussing something as important as President Fiddlesticks' senility.
But then again, in 2024 America, the only way to get the public's attention was to be as exciting as possible. Besides, if Cameron Buckley wasn't extravagant, he wasn't Cameron Buckley.
"You might be wondering why I'm coming to you from New York City, the crossroads of America, the city that never sleeps, the greatest city in the world despite being run by liberals, right now! My show's a Saturday show, after all, and it's Thursday!"
Cameron cleared his throat as he prepared his next words.
"Well, I've got some news for all of you! We've got Andreas Fiddlesticks, an old man with dementia, diapers, doodles, and delays, as our illegitimate President! But if you've been a loyal viewer of my show, you already know that! So why am I bringing this news to you again?"
Cameron raised a fist as he delivered the next line: "Because we've got more on this story today! Apparently, President Fiddlesticks is so senile, so untethered from reality, that he thinks the meeting he had today in the Situation Room happened three days ago! Can you believe that? Three days ago?
"I'm telling you, folks, if he didn't need to be impeached before, he certainly needs to be impeached now! Thank the Lord above that the House Republicans have finally grown a spine and are going to vote on the articles of impeachment today! We've got to save America from the people who are determined to see it flushed down the toilet like Fiddlesticks' memory!
"But that's not all! The truth will not be flushed down the toilet! In fact, the truth will set you free, it'll set me free, it'll set all of America free!"
Cameron raised both fists in the air, grinning like a maniac as he did so. Then, he continued speaking.
"But impeachment isn't enough for President Fiddlesticks! Or should I say, illegitimate President Fiddlesticks? We all know he lost the last election - we had mail-in ballots up the wazoo, Pokéballs containing ballots from people voting ten to fifteen times, and voting machines that malfunctioned until the Democrats said 'Oh yeah, this senile old man won!' Give me a break!"
Cameron cleared his throat. "So here's the situation we're in. We've got a President who thinks he's reliving the recent past like that movie Groundhog Day, we've got a Cabinet who refuses to invoke the 25th Amendment against him, and we've got a political party that remains unwilling to stand up to him when it counts. I mean, they're all a bunch of traitors, aren't they, for stealing the election!
"So if you've got a Democratic Senator, everyone, here's what you do. Tell them that they're a traitor if they don't vote to convict President Fiddlesticks. Quite frankly, he should be in a nursing home, not the White House, and anyone who disagrees is a traitor to this nation, plain and simple!
"And I'll end this emergency broadcast with one last cold, hard truth: If you still think Andreas Fiddlesticks is fit to be commander in chief, I'm gonna buck your world! Haha, get it?"
Cameron laughed at his own joke as he turned his microphone off.
He'd done his civic duty. His listeners and viewers would know what to do. He could only hope that they took action to remove that sundowning old man from the White House. After all, that's what it would take to save America, and Cameron A. Buckley would not rest until he saw that happen.