The helicopter touched down on the parched lawn, creating a whirlwind of dust and dead grass. Oswald Octavian Beaufort-Chatsworth thanked the pilot, ignored his suggestion to wait until the rotors had stopped and held his sleeve to his eyes as he strode through the dust cloud towards the house. His slick black hair seemed impervious to the wind.
Waiting for him at the entrance of the house was Geoffrey
Aston. For an 89 year old, he looked surprisingly spritely – a full head of
hair, pudgy cheeks and a perfectly upright posture. He was wearing a rugby
shirt, some khaki shorts and a wide grin.
“Welcome to Penhallow House! Secretary of State, it is an
honour and a pleasure to have you here”
“How could I refuse an invitation from one of Britain’s most
successful entrepreneurs”, said Oswald, not bothering to pretend to smile
“What do you mean ‘one of’? Haha! We picked a fine day for
this rendezvous. Reminds me of when I used to have a villa on Mallorca. Aren’t
you hot in that leather jacket? And you’re even wearing that”
Geoffrey pointed at Oswald’s armband, on which a red lion
reared up in the style of the royal coat of arms.
“You politicians are always so worried about your image,”
said Geoffrey, “well tonight you can forget about all that, you’re here to
relax and be entertained”
“If you’re going to lie to a politician, I suggest you try
harder”, said Oswald as he walked past Geoffrey into the house
Inside, all of the walls were oak panelled and none was
without at least one portrait of a stern-looking man or a glum-looking woman.
“Seventeenth Century?” asked Oswald
“Yes, that’s right. It was built by a guano merchant, I
believe. I fell in love with the place at first sight”
Oswald’s attention was caught by an alcove with brackets
holding several elegant wood-coated rifles.
“If you have the time, I was hoping we could go hunting
tomorrow morning,” said Geoffrey, “Ah, Natasha!”
At the top of the atrium’s grand staircase stood a
middle-aged woman. Her long, plain dress and narrow glasses gave her the air of
a headmistress.
“We were going to have dinner soon,” said Geoffrey, “won’t
you join us?”
Even at that distance, Oswald could feel the searing hatred
focused on the two men from those piercing eyes. Natasha simply turned and
walked out of sight without a word.
“She’s lived here since her divorce,” said Geoffrey, “she
hates my guts but is quite happy to sponge off of me. Do you have children?”
“No”, said Oswald
“Think twice before you do. They’re little better than
parasites. Care for an aperitif?”
“Gin,” said Oswald, “if you’d be so kind”
The dining room had a good view of the sun disappearing
behind the Cornish hills. Geoffrey and Oswald sat at a long oak table, a stag’s
head watching them from above a fireplace.
“What’s it like in Whitehall at the moment?” asked Geoffrey,
“Must be quite… tense?”
Oswald gave him a quizzical look.
“What with the situation with France”, said Geoffrey
Oswald laughed, “No, we’re not scared of the French”
“You’re sure that Dubois is bluffing?”
“They’re not going to attack us,” said Oswald, “they know
that if there was a war, we could use our nuclear warheads but they couldn’t
use theirs. They want to move their people to our land. Even if they somehow
won, they wouldn’t want to rule over an irradiated wasteland. No, the 15
million migrants itching to cross the channel are a much bigger problem than that
loud-mouthed frog”
“That’s a relief,” said Geoffrey, “Of course, if there was a
war, the robotics experts in Aston Technologies could lend their-“
“I’m not the Secretary of State for Defence, Geoffrey.
You’re lobbying the wrong person”
“I was merely mentioning it,” said Geoffrey with a grin,
“Anyway, did you hear the sad news today?”
“Yes, I did,” said Oswald looking down at his drink, “very
sad news indeed. Salma Khan was a great woman. She’ll go down in history as one
of our greatest Prime Ministers”
Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, “Do you really mean
that?”
“Of course. Politicians are usually either charismatic or
diplomatic, but she managed to be both. While we Tories were fighting among
ourselves, she gave the country reasons to be optimistic for the first time in
decades. The world came close to net zero in 2040, in no small part thanks to
her persistence at the COPs”
“Then came the Alaric report,” said Geoffrey, “when was
that? ’42?”
The image of the graph on the first page of the Alaric
report was burned into Oswald’s memory. Global temperatures and emissions had
risen together in a macabre dance until 2035, when the world’s leaders finally
got their act together and emissions started to plummet. But instead of
plateauing, temperatures kept rising faster than ever. Vicious circles had been
triggered – ice sheets reflecting heat back into space were shrinking, forest
fires were spewing more and more carbon into the atmosphere, and melting
permafrost was releasing billions of tons of methane. Humanity had lost control
of the planet.
“The Alaric report broke Khan,” said Oswald, “You could see
it in her eyes. She knew all of her work was simply too late. Her cancer
diagnosis was only a few months ago, but she’d already lost the will to go on.
Maybe if she’d been born ten years earlier…”
“But Alaric was a godsend for the Lions”, said Geoffrey
“It’s what persuaded me to join them,” said Oswald, “After
that, installing Richard as party leader and then winning the election was a
foregone conclusion. The British People wanted a government they could trust to
protect them – and only them – in this new, terrifying world. And that’s not
going to change anytime soon”
“Do you really believe you can rely on that fear
indefinitely?” asked Geoffrey
“Fear is more powerful than greed, indignation or any other
emotion,” said Oswald, “If you were scared enough, I’d be willing to bet you’d
give up all your wealth to be safe. Used competently, fear is an effective tool
for preventing disaster. Fear of the apocalypse is what prevented the Cold War
from turning hot. But we didn’t beat climate change because we didn’t fear it
enough. It was too abstract. Now people fear that they won’t survive the
world’s descent, and we’re using that fear to preserve Britain”
An attendant arrived to serve their dinner.
“Griddled tuna steak with lime and asparagus”, he said with
a hint of pride
“Thank you Pierre,” said Geoffrey before suddenly going pale,
“Ah, Pierre has been living in the UK for fifteen years, so…”
“Don’t worry,” said Oswald, smiling at the Frenchman like a
hungry predator, “If he was on the register, he’d already be in my care. And I
know you wouldn’t risk hiding undocumented migrants in your home, especially if
you were planning on entertaining Cabinet members”
Pierre awkwardly sidled out of the room.
“How much did this cost you?” asked Oswald as he started
dissecting the tuna, “It’s not every day you get to dine on an endangered
species”
“Well, it’s not every day we have Secretaries of State round
for dinner!” said Geoffrey, “Say, you don’t have any nanites do you?”
“No. I presume you do?”
“Oh yes, I’ve got thousands of them in my veins,” said
Geoffrey, “First I got the basic immune support ones, then the cancer-killing
ones, then the muscle-building ones. And earlier this year I got the new
neuron-repairing ones. They work wonders, I can tell you. It’s almost like the
past 30 years never happened to me!”
“Good for you,” said Oswald, who was more interested in his
food, “It must feel like you’ll live forever”
“It’s a terrible shame that nanites are still so expensive
that even our highest ranking politicians can’t afford them. After all, the
healthier and sharper our government is, the stronger the country will be,
right? So I’m willing to give you a 50 percent discount on all nanite
treatments from Aston Technologies”
“How generous,” said Oswald, “That’s a discount of upwards
of five million pounds, am I right? What do you want in return?”
“A few years ago you were merely a junior minister in the
Treasury. But you’ve worked your way up to the Cabinet and carved out your own
government department for yourself. And it’s an open secret that you have the
PM’s ear like no-one else, some say even his wife is jealous”
Oswald sighed in exasperation, “Tuna, a discount and even a
heaping pile of flattery. What a delightful evening this is turning out to be.
For God’s sake Geoffrey, spit it out. What do you bloody want from me?”
“Persuade the PM to lower corporation tax rates,” said
Geoffrey, “back to the levels they were twenty years ago”
“No”, said Oswald
“Fine, 60 percent”, said Geoffrey
“I’m not going to haggle with you,” said Oswald, “You think
we can keep Britain alive in a world that’s falling apart on the cheap?”
“You think you can keep Britain alive without free enterprise?”
“If by free enterprise you mean you being free to spend as
much as you can on your vanity projects, then yes”
Geoffrey threw his cutlery down, “You’re bleeding us dry!”
he roared, “You’re no better than the fucking socialists!”
“You should be grateful,” said Oswald in a calm, deep growl,
“grateful that we haven’t shut down your operations and confiscated your
assets. How can you say we’re bleeding you dry when you’re building that
glorified bunker of yours in orbit? How much are you sending up there? Are you
aware of the metal shortages? Britain needs those resources more than you do”
The ticks and tocks from a grandfather clock echoed in the
dining room. The sky grew inky and the ragged curtains closed automatically as
the two men ate in silence.
“The tuna is delicious”, said Oswald
“I’m the majority shareholder of a centre-right outlet
called Civitas News”, said Geoffrey
“Never heard of it”, said Oswald
“At the moment it’s pretty critical of the Lions. But I can
tell the editor to slowly shift right over the next five years. Pump out
opinion pieces that are ever more forgiving of, and eventually defensive of the
government. We’ll lose some subscribers, but many will convert to the cause and
barely realise it. In return, I expect you to pull some strings at HMRC. Tell
them there’s no need to examine Aston Technologies’ tax bills so closely”
“Found it,” said Oswald, who was tapping at his phone, “It
has twelve thousand subscribers. And I’m guessing they’re mostly grumpy old men
who still worship Thatcher’s corpse? Why would I expend any effort on them? The
Centre died a long time ago, Geoffrey”
“Every little helps, surely?” said Geoffrey, “I’ve never
heard of a politician who refuses media support”
“It’s not the ‘20s anymore,” said Oswald, “back when the
Right needed the media to feed codswallop to at least half the population in
order to prevent an uprising. Today, we have facts on our side. Everyone just
needs to look out their window to see why Britain needs us”
“Britain, Britain, fucking Britain,” said Geoffrey, glaring
at his guest, “Don’t you ever get sick of saying that word?”
“Tell me Geoffrey,” said Oswald, tapping his finger on the
table impatiently, “Why did you fall in love with this house? Was it the décor?
The gardens? The history? Or was it perhaps because it’s a stone’s throw away
from Newquay spaceport? Seems to me like a good house for someone who thinks they
might need to get into orbit at a moment’s notice”
“Well, I-“
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘A citizen of the world is a
citizen of nowhere’? You don’t even want to be a citizen of the world. You’ve
turned your back on your own tribe, on the nation who raised you. You’re
destined for the ninth circle of hell, with all the other traitors”
Geoffrey stood up and loomed over Oswald, “Britain is
doomed. In a hundred years, it will be just a collection of desert islands. For
almost the entirety of history, Britain was a poor, backwards island on the
edge of the world. Its only valuable contribution to humanity was the discovery
of fossil fuels – and look where that’s got us. In the grand scheme of things
Britain is just a blip with an ignominious legacy. So I think you can forgive
me if I’m not moved to tears by the Union Jack, bulldogs and cream teas”
Oswald stood and looked at Geoffrey squarely in the eye,
“Didn’t you love your mother, even when she was old? Thank you for dinner. I’m
going for a smoke”
The night air was still warm. Oswald got out his
grandfather’s old ivory pipe and stood in the mansion’s porchway surveying the gardens.
The dry fountains and weathered statues looked eerie in the faint light coming
from the house. One of the shadows on the grass moved, and Oswald realised he
was being watched from the first floor. Natasha was staring at him as though
she was trying to turn him to stone. He stared back, sucking on his pipe.
“Care to join me?” he said loudly
Natasha hesitated, then opened the window.
“What?”
“I said, care to join me?” said Oswald, “I’m sure you’d be
better company than your father”
She scoffed. Oswald casually ambled to the spot beneath her
window.
“Why do you hate me?” he asked
“Do I actually need to explain to you?” she said, “Do you
repress your memories each night so that you can get some sleep?”
“I’m genuinely curious”, said Oswald
“I watch the videos of your gangs-“
“Employment officers”
“Your gangs dragging people away from their families, into
your black vans”
“We’re giving them meaningful work,” said Oswald, “a way to
give back to Britain. In this day and age, that’s something to be grateful for”
“And are they grateful?” asked Natasha, “Being chipped, then
forced to work in dangerous conditions with minimal training, then told to
sleep in an overcrowded prison, on two bowls of porridge a day. All for the
crime of being unemployed or a refugee. How many die each day? Hundreds?
Thousands?”
“The people in my care are building flood-proof homes and
growing food for the British People,” said Oswald, “They are keeping Britain
alive. And if they weren’t in my care, they would be at your gates, demanding
everything you have and more”
Natasha shrank back in revulsion, “You’re a fucking fasci-“
“Oh please,” said Oswald, “you’ll only embarrass yourself
making that comparison. This is the twenty-first century, we’re so much more
enlightened. We’re not bigots, we don’t discriminate against any faiths, any
races, any sexualities, any genders. And we cherish Britain’s democratic
tradition”
“For now…”
“Why would we take away the vote?” asked Oswald, “You think
we’re scared of Labour? Even if they did win the next election, you think
they’d build a socialist paradise where everyone sings and dances all day long?
No, if they win, it will be because they promise to be even tougher than us. The
world gave idealists a chance and they failed. Now the world needs realists”
“That’s just an excuse to treat human beings like animals,”
said Natasha, “But the People aren’t as xenophobic or sadistic as you are”
“They don’t have to be. We all know that many millions of
people are going to die in the next few decades,” said Oswald, “the only
question is who”
“You’re a murderer”
“If you say so, but my constituents seem to like me and I
don’t think I’ll be leaving government anytime soon. By the way, do you have an
employment certificate?”
Natasha adjusted her glasses, “I-I’m a writer…”
Oswald chuckled, “I’ve heard that excuse many times before”
“And did those feet in ancient time” sang Oswald’s
phone, “walk upon England’s mountains green?”
It was Michael calling, an ambitious civil servant at the
Ministry of Defence with whom Oswald had been cultivating a mutually-beneficial
friendship.
“Oswald, the Met Office confirmed,” said Michael, “the winds
have changed”
Oswald’s eyes widened, “Does that mean…?”
“The COBRA meeting’s already started. The order should be
coming through any time now”
“Good work, Michael”
Oswald put away his phone and looked back up. Natasha had
closed the window and disappeared, so he went back inside.
“Pierre! Get me the finest whiskey Geoffrey has!” Oswald
yelled in the atrium, “Geoffrey! Take me to your largest screen!”
Geoffrey appeared wearing a golden dressing gown, “Why all
the ruckus?”
“Let’s watch the news”
“Actually I was thinking of turning in”
“You’re going to want to see this”, said Oswald with a
mischievous grin
“Hmm… The way you say that is making me uneasy,” said
Geoffrey, “let’s go to the drawing room”
Somewhat out-of-place amid the mahogany bookcases and
moth-eaten sofas, a sleek 85-inch screen dominated the drawing room. Oswald and
Geoffrey nursed their drinks as they watched tributes to Salma Khan, then images
of rioting in Toronto.
“Is it a coup?” asked Geoffrey, “Is that what we’re waiting
for?”
“What makes you think that?” said Oswald
“Well, installing puppet leaders in countries close to the
poles is all the rage now. First the US in Canada, then China in Russia…”
“It certainly seems to be a good way of ensuring the smooth
migration of people to safe, fertile lands, even if it causes conflict with the
locals”, said Oswald
“So who will it be? Scotland? Iceland?”
“Ah, here we go”, said Oswald
“And now some breaking news,” said the anchor, “we are
getting these images from Paris”
A column of tanks was snaking down the Champs-Élysées, the Arc
de Triomphe lit up behind them. Some civilians stood by in silence watching or
filming them, others scurried away. Another video showed a military gendarme guarding
a very ornate gate, angrily waving his rifle at a composed commander in a tank
whose main gun was pointed at the gendarme. Both men proudly wore the tricolore
on their uniforms.
“You’re behind this?” said Geoffrey as he slowly rubbed his
forehead, “You said Dubois isn’t a threat”
“He isn’t”, said Oswald
“So then why?”
“With chaos and confusion at the highest levels of the French
government and military, they are less ready to deal with unexpected events,
and it also gives us an opportunity to gather some intelligence while they’re
distracted”
“So this is part of a pre-emptive strike?” said Geoffrey, “I
still don’t understand”
Oswald tapped his nose. For some time, the news replayed the
same videos of the tanks over and over. The anchor had to try very hard to
describe the videos without speculating. The drawing room had a fireplace,
which Pierre lit. Geoffrey broke the glowing logs apart with an iron poker in
an attempt to stave off boredom.
“Right,” Geoffrey eventually said, “I’m off to bed”
“You’ll regret it,” said Oswald, “it’ll be any time now”
The sound of thunder came from outside.
“What was that?” said Geoffrey, going to the window to peer
through the curtains, “The forecast didn’t say anything about a storm”
The thunder grew louder, becoming a never-ending roar, so
low and pervasive that everything in the room seemed to tremble. Geoffrey
turned to Oswald, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with terror.
“Belgium and the Netherlands will be hit in an hour’s time,”
said Oswald, “creating a strip of radioactive wasteland 50 miles thick along
the coast of the Channel from Rotterdam to Brest. No migrant will want to cross
that, so all the peoples of Europe, Africa and the Middle East will be
funnelled towards Scandinavia instead. One of my best ideas, if I say so
myself. The PM took some persuading, but he came to see why this was the best
way to secure Britain’s future. And as much as the King disapproves of the
Lions, I’d hope that finally defeating our old enemy almost a thousand years
after the Battle of Hastings will give him some pleasure”
“A-aren’t we in danger here?” asked Geoffrey
“No, the winds will blow the fallout eastwards”
“Won’t they retaliate?”
“The attack would have only gone ahead once we had located
all of their nuclear subs,” said Oswald, “our own subs can intercept any
missiles launched from them before they’re dealt with”
“What about the Americans?”
Oswald laughed, “You really do live in the past, don’t you? The
Americans couldn’t care less”
Geoffrey sank into a sofa, his head in his hands.
“Are you really that surprised?” said Oswald, “The Israelis
have killed millions of Arabs, the Chinese have killed millions of
Bangladeshis”
“I know, but I never thought we…”
“You thought Britain was special?” said Oswald, “Maybe
you’re a patriot after all! Cheer up old chap, this is what victory looks like!
This is the world your generation created, one where only the ruthless survive”
Oswald got up and started marching around the room, “Pierre!
Another whiskey! Nemo saltat sobrius! Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me
my arrows of dee…sire! Bring me my spears! OH CLOUDS UNFOLD! Bring me my
chariot of fire! I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep
in my hand, til we have built Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant l-“
Natasha stood in the doorway, her face twisted with rage,
aiming an elegant wood-coated hunting rifle at Oswald.
“Well I never,” said Oswald, “I never thought I’d see a
lefty holding a gun. But I wonder if you have the nerve to use it”
Geoffrey leapt up from the sofa and stood between them,
“Natasha, put it down!”
“Are you really going to defend him?” asked Natasha, “After
what they’ve just done?”
“Think about what you’re doing,” said Geoffrey, “we can’t afford
to make enemies of them”
She fired into Geoffrey’s stomach. He crumpled to the floor,
howling in pain. Oswald didn’t move a muscle as she stepped over her father and
strode towards him, the rifle trained on his face. She stopped when the barrel
was an inch from his eyes.
“What’s the point?” asked Oswald, “You’d only be adding to
the death toll”
“Because it’s people like you that make the world a horrible
place to live,” said Natasha, “People like you shouldn’t exist”
Oswald sighed, “Dulce et decorum est p-“
The last thing Oswald saw in the corner of his eye was
Geoffrey rising to his feet with the iron poker in his hand. Natasha pulled the
trigger, and Oswald’s world came to an end.
