Chapter Sixteen

“Is this line secure Mr. President?” Assange sounded frazzled.

“Hard to believe with your celebrity status that it could be,” said the President, “but my people assure me it is. Everything ok?”

Assange took a longer breath than normal, “as well as it can be, but I can’t help but feel as if I’m running on borrowed time. Great Britain is about to sell me out to the Swedes, Australian parliament is blocking me from running for office and I’m supposed to just take it in stride.”

“Remember the power of the martyr.” chimed the President.

“Aye, so long as he has the media with him,” Assange grumbled. He was nervous. Vaughan’s compound had been such a peaceful reprieve from everyday life, it felt awkward to be back in the throws of the unknown. “I can’t help but feel abandoned by my fellow journalists after they blamed me for any trouble that came their way.”

“Two words: catty bitches.” Assange could hear the President’s smile thru the phone. “They love you for the dirt you dug up, but they hate you for getting it to the public first. Trust the path you’ve chosen. Maybe you’ll get a taste of how Jesus felt…”

“ ‘Thrice before the cock crows,’ and maybe more if this keeps getting delayed.” Assange paused. “Any good news?”

“I enjoyed your show on RT,” said the President, “it’s already a vice of mine, and it may be even more detrimental than my Marlboro Reds. Free speech is becoming hazardous to your health around here. Did you notice the banks still playing the same games that got them in trouble before?”

“ ‘Spare the rod, spoil the rich kids.’ Isn’t that how it goes nowadays? I can only assume that’s playing into your plans…”

“I’m working on a new possibility.” The President took a breath. “Historically, when the market fails, you shore up the banks and let them fix their mistakes. It’s taken three years to find out that no longer works. They played me in the first month of my administration, and if they think I’ll be played again, they will experience something else.”

“…like?” asked Assange.

“What if,” the President paused, “the money we would normally supply the system with in times of crisis, we shared with the People? What would happen if the USA gave grants and loans to those who couldn’t afford their mortgage instead of the banks?”

“First and foremost, you would be THE MAN,” answered Assange. “The People would love you even more, but I would worry about certain power-hungry, fat cats becoming angry at being cut out of the equation.”

“True,” continued the President, “even though that money would still go to the banks, they might feel…under appreciated…but it would certainly help our accountability.”

“…and your popularity,” said Assange. “I think it’s as bold a move as executive order #11110, so watch your back.”

“If you think that’s bold, what do you think about a total overhaul of government pensions?” asked the President.

“You’re going there?” Assange gasped. “Wow Mr. President. I thought you were moderate. That sounds like borderline revolution.”

“Well, it may not be necessary if we can get some transparency in regards to where the money is going, but the People have to want it.”

“ ‘Follow the money.’ If only it were that easy,” Assange thought for second, “but if another crisis happens…”

“Then it might be time to roll out the big guns,” said the President, “if by ‘big guns’ I mean…‘a lifting of the veil.’ ”