Chapter Eighteen

Manning was in the best spirits he’d been in years (around two of them), and it was about time. His treatment at Fort Meade was spectacular compared to Quantico (marines) and Leavenworth (army). He assumed it was because the US media had actually been picking up his story lately (even FOX). His lawyer, David Coombs, was young (had to be), pro bono (thankfully) and learning as fast as he could how to defend him (a slow and painful process). Although they had made mistakes early on, Coombs was tenacious about promotion and making alliances with the older generation of conservatives and liberals who understood what was really going on. They had tricks as well…

Today was unusual. He had an unannounced visitor.

“Private Manning! You will face the wall until told otherwise!” The guards were still hardasses, but whatever. His patience was growing, and it had power.

“At ease soldier,” a familiar voice said softly, “how’s the weight of the world?”

“Mr. President!” Manning turned and stood stunned. “Sir, you’re not supposed to…”

“I know, I know, but the President has privilege.” He smiled and took him in. “You look much better than the last time I saw you. I’m grateful you’re ok.”

Manning didn’t know what to say. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes sir.”

“My eyes are sore too son. I had hoped this would take less time, but you are persevering. Thanks for not dropping the ball.”

Manning felt like he was in a dream again. All this began with a shitty decision to join the military, when a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came in the form of US government cables, (millions of them at his fingertips) and he made the decision (albeit medicated) to out his employers. Assange had mentioned the President was pro-WikiLeaks, but with all the feints and counter feints thrown around during press conferences, it was hard to know what the truth was…and here he was.

“Sir?”

“Yes private.”

“You’re still going to denounce me and my actions to the public right?”

“For now, we have to.” The President held his stare, “we are waiting for public understanding to catch up, and the tipping point is almost here. Remember, legally, I must hold you to your ‘crime’, so the People will polarize with you (realizing you are no criminal), and the truth will come out faster. More celebrities and politicians are bristling at how you are being treated, and they will recognize your ‘new’ cause. David Coombs has been brilliant. He’s still playing the innocent, school boy well. After all this is said and done, I will have positions for both of you, if we can sew this up during my next term.” Tears welled in Manning’s eyes. “Otherwise, ‘There are worlds beyond this one’.”

“Maximillian Roivas, ‘Eternal Darkness’,” quoted Manning. “Didn’t know you played sir.”

“I don’t,” said the President. “That’s also Stephen King, ‘The Gunslinger’, I forget how old I am sometimes.”

“You have the youngest, sharpest, most strategic mind out any president I’ve ever witnessed, and I’m grateful you’re on my side,” Manning confessed.

“It’s because you are the truth private,” said the President, “and ‘the Truth shall set you free.’ It was good enough for Jesus, let’s pray it’s all we need.”

Chapter Seventeen

Rafael Correa, the president of Ecuador, shook hands with Assange for the first time inside the embassy. They stood inside his mini-makeshift office/bedroom amongst a laptop and clothes scattered everywhere.

“Julian, mucho gusto amigo,” smiled the President. “Your reputation proceeds you, but I’ve been particularly fascinated by the rabble rousing you’ve been up to. Buen trabajo!”

“Mucho gusto Mr. President,” replied Assange. “I’m thrilled that you’ve noticed at all. Amigos are far and few in between nowadays. What I really need now is allies.”

“Mi embassy es su embassy buei. I hope this will suffice for now. I will most likely get a subversive ‘talking to’ by my American affiliates, however, like much of the American public, I too believe you are doing the right thing.”

“It’s perfect,” said Assange. “This single room has enough legal freedom for me to continue my work, and I will push for transparent government and media rights until further notice. Thank-you, by the way, for pardoning those journalists in Quito, that was a breath of fresh air.”

The President raised an eyebrow, “you think that was because of you?”

Assange took an awkward gasp and let out a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t going there sir…”

“I was just kidding amigo!” The president howled, “but I wasn’t…no, I did have an Assange moment. Those journalistas are pendejos and they know it, but even their trash has rights. I don’t give them enough inside scoops, so they make up their own gossip.”

“If you would like any ayuda, I offer my services toward a dialogue between you and the local media…”

“Gracias, pero no my friend,” the President sighed. “You have much bigger fish to fry. All I ask is that you keep publishing, I’m addicted to WikiLeaks, your team is the best! And in the spirit of objectivity, I know I am not out of bounds, but por favor, at least give me forewarning if you are going to print anything about Ecuador.”

“I alert everyone,” stated Assange, “but of course, for your hospitality, I will make sure you know what’s up. Is there anything in particular I should know about, Mr. President?”

“Hah, hah!” The President lol’d, “you are the last person I would give any information! Just clean up your room, it’s a pig sty…just kidding!” Assange lol’d too.

Happy Terrorist Day (4th of July)

Happy Terrorist Day!

236 years ago, our forefathers ignored British law and initiated treasonous, terrorist acts against their country England. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and George Washington committed crimes against the crown, and were considered terrorists. We know now, they were only doing their duty when the rights of mankind were being infringed upon.

Let's remember that today.

We can always re-choose a new legal system, a new military or even a new government...just by deciding it so and doing something about it.

Remember, remember that 4th of July's means terrorism is good sometimes.

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.’ ”

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m sorry old boy, but I’ve held out at long as my sanity will allow. You’ve got to go.” Vaughan Smith had tears in his eyes. His home Ellingham Hall in Norfolk, England had been Assange’s sanctuary from political persecution for nearly a year. “I thought I could stomach it, as I believe in what you are doing. Prannie understood in the beginning, but month after month of fending off reporters and paparazzi has taken its toll. The prank phone calls were funny at first, but now they’re hourly, on every phone we own. Our spam filters don’t block death threats and we’ve been hacked so much we considered unplugging ourselves from the world…but we don’t need to if you’re not here.”

“I understand mate.” Assange smiled. “Fish and visitors stink after three days, let alone three hundred, and what I brought to the table was already rotten.”

Vaughan’s eyes leaked as he maintained his gaze. “You are not rotten, you are the truth. You are what the world needs and wants. I will continue to help however I can, but if I want my marriage to last, I have to pass the baton for now. Prannie believes in you too, but when ideology and reality are set upon a mother’s scale, children tip the balance.”

“Rightly so. Your family is one-of-a-kind Vaughan. I’ve written you in my will to pay you back when the time comes.”

Vaughan wiped his tears away with shaking hands and held them out to Assange. “Then stay alive chap. I want you to see what you’ve accomplished when it all plays out. You deserve to witness the fruition of your work. The dominoes are falling as we speak, and the world is ready for this regardless of the governments who are scared shitless of their own shadows.”

“As well they should be.” Assange took his hands in his own. “Thank you brother. Your hospitality and understanding are only surpassed by your sustainable farming that tastes so good.” They embraced as if it was the last time they would see each other.

“You’re not so bad for an Aussie.” Vaughan’s voiced hitched and his eyes kept leaking.

Assange winked. “And you’re not so bad for a wanker.”

Chapter Fourteen (there will be no chapter 13 for the USA)

“You are boggling my mind with your political deftacity sir,” Assange admitted, “although I am still waiting to hear you really ‘tell it like it is.’ I think you would be a smash hit amongst the youth and the baby boomers, and right now, they are embodying the ‘cool’ in politics.”

“We’re getting there.” The president enjoyed their conversation. “The rhetoric game has been going on too long in politics. Have you ever noticed that leaders get criticized for saying one thing and doing another?”

“Only obviously,” smirked Assange, “even you said in your campaign speeches you would ‘defend whistle blowers’ and seek ‘transparency.’ I trust you didn’t forget that.”

“Pardon my non-politically correct response but, ‘it ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings.’ I came into this job knowing you have to ‘dance with the devil’ to make anything happen. What you’ve seen so far is called the first term anchor. For sustainability, I had to plug the holes of the last administration’s leaky ship by paying for the mistakes of the banks, create trust within the status quo by giving them their precious top 1% tax cuts (further alienating them from the rest of the 99%) while keeping my constituents satisfied with meager change (even though they are clamoring for revolution) just so I can keep things from getting out of hand amongst the media and public opinion to keep my promises that couldn’t have been accomplished within the first term, so I can initiate greater change during my second and go down in history as one of the best presidents to have ever held the job…aka one hell of a cluster fuck.”

“I’ve never seen the GOP so toxic,” said Assange. “When you offered to work ‘with’ them, it was almost like you called them out on their stance of doing nothing to fix anything. If their only goal is to defeat you, they are telling the American people, ‘we’re not doing anything until this guy is out of office.’ That’s a back handed way of earning a paycheck for four years from US tax dollars.”

The President raised an eyebrow. “It’s what happens when politicians stop being politicians.”

Julian thought for a moment. “Speak on it, please.”

“For all the problems the Dems have with being bought out by the banks, the GOP was bought years ago. They are no longer accountable to their voters, they are accountable to their bank accounts. When you don’t govern based upon your ethics and your decisions are made for you by money…”

“…you’re just a cog in the machine, and no longer a politician.”

“And Bingo was his name-o.”

Julian looked awed. “Fuck me, the banks aren’t political strategists, they’re just money holders. How do they expect to win in politics when they can’t even balance wealth that’s not theirs?”

“Their aggressiveness is staggering, but I’m not the kind of guy who wants to call anyone out. It’s best to allow the People to find the truth on their own.”

“So when you took office and the financial fallout occurred a month later, it was basically the banks pulling some gangsta shit,” mused Assange.

“This is a stick up!” clowned the President. “Give us more money to cover the cost of our gambling debts or we’ll let the whole system fall apart during your term…and there will be CHAOS!”

“Riots, food shortages, raping and pillaging…wow. You could’ve just called their bluff though. Do you think America would’ve fallen apart?”

“No,” said the President, “we have too much good in us, but I didn’t want it to fall apart. I believe in the human race, and part of that is allowing the People to correct their mistakes and learn from them.”

“What if some people don’t want to fix their mistakes?” asked Assange. “What if some control freaks are so enamored with their own deception that they deceive themselves into believing they are bullet proof?”

“If it comes to that, the People will supply the bullets.”

Chapter Twelve

“Mark my words. It will not be six months before the world tests him like they did John Kennedy. We're about to elect a brilliant 47-year-old senator president of the United States of America. Remember I said it standing here, if you don't remember anything else I said. Watch, we're gonna have an international crisis, a generated crisis, to test the mettle of this guy.”
–Joe Biden, October 20, 2008

“Well, even though he made it look like a piece of cake, we got our money.” Rockefeller locked his hands behind his head and laid back in a leather recliner. “I gotta admit, I didn’t know if he would play ball or try to get ‘The People’ to rise up against us.”

Cheney grimaced. “He knew what was best for him. At least he’s not impulsive. We would’ve pulled out the big guns if he went rogue. Even he’s got dirt the public would find…distasteful.”

“For all the ‘hopey-changey’ liberals out there, the old racket still works.” Rockefeller smiled. “Thank God we were able to get all the laws changed in time to drop the bottom out of the market within his first month of office. Biden had the gall to compare him to Kennedy. He’s no Kennedy, this president knows his place.”

“Are we sure of that?” Cheney looked up beneath a frowning brow. “I get these premonitions of danger that almost lead to panic attacks. I’m still concerned that it isn’t yet safe.”

Rockefeller leaned forward and slapped him on the back. “Cheer up Dick! The duty you did for your country will be remembered, respected and protected by the right people for the rest of your life. I know you didn’t even think it was possible in the beginning, but this is peanuts compared to what you pulled off. He’s a lawyer, he knows better than to challenge us now.”

“How can we be sure?”

“In your entire lifetime, you’ve seen us win it all…everything…even when we didn’t know what we were doing half the time. We figured it out, whatever it took. That same logic applies now. No matter what anyone thinks they can do about it, we will win.”

Cheney let loose a long labored breath. “I don’t trust him. He has the feel of a martyr waiting for the right time to make penance.”

“Then we will use his martyrdom at the right time…or we’ll induce it.” Rockefeller winked. “Come on man, you’re the glue who held the ship together during ‘the greatest hoax ever pulled on the American people.’ Don’t tell me you’re getting spooked now.”

“There are new precedents in motion that are unsettling. Bradley Manning is being compared to Nelson Mandela. Julian Assange is getting a tv show.”

“On Russia Today right?” Rockefeller laughed. “Who’s going to believe RT propaganda? Putin’s compromised. Don’t give up on American pride, it’s kept us afloat since the beginning of our lives. Mom, apple pie, guns and butter…the GOP may be toxic, but the American flag isn’t.”

“Anonymous is gathering more and more members everyday.”

“I thought the FBI was running their ‘honey pot’ strategy with them like Al-Qaeda,” said Rockefeller. “It’s not working?”

“The problem is…hackers are not poor, broke and brown. They are often white, male and upper class. They also don’t have the sense of urgency that potential terrorists bring with them.”

“Hackers aren’t terrorists?” asked Rockefeller. “Isn’t that just a matter of changing some more laws?”

“Oh, they’ve been introduced,” said Cheney, “but they don’t carry the same fear that hash-eating, tower-toppling assassins bring to the minds of regular Americans.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to change that.”