Order Out of Chaos
Old Phil Borro stands staring out from his Hawaiian villa. His face is scarred by the hard life he suffered. He was molded at a young age in World War II by betraying Jews with his uncle and then selling their household goods. He has no regrets, and it earned him tens of millions of dollars at the time. You might think that after such a harsh, traumatic childhood, it is now his turn to make others suffer, but the reality is even worse; nothing interests him as long as he does not suffer. He’s a psychopath, pur sang.
Because of his startup capital, his ruthlessness, and his cleverness, he stands out in higher circles, and decades later, Phil Borro is among the absolute elite of the earth and, like his peers, strives for world dominance. Because of his efforts to make globalism the norm, the inescapable response is that populism and nationalism are popping up everywhere; it’s a thorn in his side. America, in particular, can’t do anything right in his eyes. And if it weren’t for the Second Amendment, America would have already been defeated. A Japanese general once said that invading America is never an option because behind every blade of grass would be an American with a weapon.
His priority now is to disarm the American citizen by turning black, white, male, female, rich, poor, young, and old against each other. In this way, he hopes to create chaos so that he and his friends can restore order. As he stands staring out the window, he gets an idea to get his plans moving. While sipping his whiskey, he whispers to himself, "Ordo ab chao," and grabs his phone.
New York. The UN's rectangular headquarters stands like a monolith, glittering in the morning sun. On First Avenue, right in front of the UN, a white van is parked. It's surrounded by a heavily armed and dressed-in-black anti-terrorism team. "Hands up!" is shouted. Inside the van, a white, confused man sits with his hands up. Carefully, the team moves left and right around the van. "Don't move, asshole!" shouts a member of the team as two team members carefully open the door of the driver. They grab him and drag the man out of the van. He is carried off bound and shouts to the spinning cameras of the press, "Death to the new world order!"
Eighty Million Reasons
From the news studio, a beautiful lady looks into the living rooms of America and says, "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen; an incredible event this morning. First Avenue at 46th Street; the UN building; a man in a van was stopped. His van was full of explosives. These explosives were fake; nevertheless, New York escaped an unfathomable disaster. Apart from his name, not much is known about the perpetrator, only that the man, probably a lone wolf, is a conservative nationalist who wrote on Wastehook that he hates leftist politicians immensely and believes in conspiracy theories.
A chuckling Phil Borro sits in his study. Many people will think that New York escaped disaster, but it has been put together in such a way that nationalism is put in a bad light and is linked to white Americans. The evening sun casts long shadows into Borro's study. Harold, his right-hand man, stands in front of his desk. Phil holds up a glass of whiskey for Harold and congratulates him on the success of the operation in New York for which he is responsible.
"No, thank you, Phil; it's too early," says Harold as he places his hand on his stomach while making a face as if he just ate a lemon. "I'm here because an unarmed black teenager was shot by police. It involves a shoplifter who attacked the officer and wanted to take his gun away. I don't know if we can do anything with it."
Phil's eyes sparkle. "Harold, it’s all about perception."
"But some stations have already reported on it."
Phil walks around his desk to Harold and leans against his bookcase with one hand. "Nixon once said that Americans only believe something when they see it on TV, and I have control of all the channels. And even though observant people know they are being deceived, it will frustrate them, but most of all, it will make them feel despondent. When you want to break something, you will have to bend it first, Harold."
Harold smiles. "Then what do you want me to do, Phil?"
Phil hands Harold a note: "There’s a bank number on here. Deposit eighty million dollars on it from our company in Curacao. I'll take care of the rest."
Harold walks out with the note, gets into a helicopter, and leaves the estate.
The Man With the Plan
A day later, from a big, lying, black magic mirror, a blue-eyed, tie-wearing anchor looks at a truth-seeking America: "An incredible and horrific tragedy played out here last night, when a young, black teenager was shot by a white cop. The black teenager was not behaving aggressively and was not armed. It is yet another cowardly killing by white cops of innocent citizens and mostly of our, already struggling with life, fellow black people."
An amount of eighty million dollars is transferred from Curacao to a newly established organization in America. The director takes no half-measures and instructs all his employees to contact their people and gather as big a crowd as they can. With the help of social media, countless people join the action groups that take to the streets in no time. White and black women and men walk hand in hand. "Stop the fight; black’s alright!" they shout.
Moments later, some white boy is mercilessly beaten up by a bunch of black boys. The lad had thought for himself for a second and came to the conclusion that not only black’s alright, but every color’s alright. His mistake, however, was to proclaim this out loud, and this will land him in a hospital bed for a very long time, and there will be no news channel that will broadcast it.
After the last election, three years ago, an outsider grabbed victory completely out of the blue. He's a man who loves America and who wants to give something back for all she has done for him.
A successful businessman who might as well be spending his days by the pool or on the golf course has decided to work for the greater good.
In three years, despite opposition from both sides, he gets things done.
He has sat around the table with two dreaded nuclear enemies. Climate treaties, mostly negative for America, are being re-examined. China is finally being dealt with after years of unfair competition. The economy is thriving, and unemployment among black Americans has never been lower. The president is a man who does not care about the establishment. He has the charisma and can handle all forms of media like no other, often by simply telling the blunt truth.
A scowling Phil Borro smashes his glass of whiskey in the fireplace, resulting in a brief but sparkling spectacle. He is outraged at the sitting president: "That fucking bastard is ruining my whole plan!"
Harold tries to calm Phil down. "Easy now, Phil; mind your health."
"It is time for tough action," says Phil. "We have to censor alternative media first. I want the boss of Wastehook here and that bastard from Glitter too; have them picked up!"
Harold nods and quickly runs out of the office.
One week later,
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the eight o'clock news. Wastehook and Glitter have blocked several influential conservative alternative media companies. In their own words, due to 'violation of terms of use' without specifically explaining in any way what term was broken, the affected companies often engage in conspiracy theories and, with their far-right thinking, often call for violence without directly doing so through a so-called dog whistle... And now for the weather."
The Last Move
Harold sits across from Phil with his legs crossed. "Phil, we have a problem. Censoring the competitors has only drawn more attention to them. Boycotting these alternative giants just doesn't work; they have their own platform, so they don't actually need us, and I fear the sleeping giant is waking up, Phil."
Phil growls from behind his laptop, "What do the polls say?"
"Republicans lead: eighty-six percent, Phil."
"God damn it!" shouts Phil. "Okay, Harold, this is my last move."
Harold sits down next to Phil, whose health is rapidly deteriorating, and discusses one last trump card before the election.
One week later,
"Good morning, America! The latest news regarding the package bombs: former Senator Jim Boss and former President Mabus have received a powdered letter in addition to a suspicious package. The FBI is thoroughly investigating the matter, and President Lewis is making every effort to track down the suspect. It is very likely that he or she must be sought in right-wing circles, given that the threats are made against mere outspoken opponents of our current president. More later..."
All of Phil Borro's attempts to influence the American people have not had the desired effect. Yes, America is in chaos, but the elites just can't manage to forge a unified whole again. The free internet has simply proved to be a powerful weapon of information.
Old Phil Borro is not doing well, and Harold is visiting his seriously ill boss and friend. Phil looks at his loyal friend and thanks him for his years of service. Saddened, Harold says goodbye to his boss and leaves the house. Phil Borro lies in his bed. From the open window, he looks defeated at the Hawaiian landscape. He has failed during his lifetime to destroy and take over America. His solace is the knowledge that his son, Alan, has promised to continue his work. Expressionless, he lets it be known what he thinks of the world: "Bunch of assholes."
Phil Borro draws his last breath and dies at the age of ninety-two.
A week later, Harold stares out the window of Phil Borro's old villa with a whiskey in his hand. Behind Harold, a man enters the room, and he softly closes the door. Harold turns and shakes the man's hand. "Alan, my condolences on the loss of your father; he was a great man and will be missed by many."
"Thank you, Harold," responds Alan. "Let's get back to work; sit down."
Harold grabs a chair and sits down. "What do you need me to do, Alan?"
Alan, too, hates America and the freedom it symbolizes. "Contact our friends from the East."
Harold looks at Alan with wide eyes and asks, "Are you sure? There's no turning back if we do."
"Yes, Harold, I'm sure," replies Alan as he rubs his hands together. "Release the virus."