The Victim

Chapter Three: Ascent

Under siege

Now, you’re probably wondering why I care so much about a silly little law. A silly little law that lets the state decide if a speaker should be allowed to speak or not at public institutions, such as colleges. Except it’s not really the state, but a commission of liberal politicians that wouldn’t dream of putting people in danger with the plus of shutting down alt-right speakers.

You see, to me it’s all about the long game. Now that my law is constitutional, other liberal states will pass similar ones, nipping opposition in the bud. At the same time, the alt-right will try to demonize us and we will do the same with them, for instance calling them “alt-right.” This will help polarize people, which is more urgently needed than people think. Right now, there’s a great divide between citizens, and it has to be sharper so matters can be solved.

Some hundred years ago, there was a new country made up of different people split by their view on some matters. The situation was unsustainable, and finally violence erupted. After the dust settled, so did the matters that split those people, which were sealed with blood. Now we are in that same situation, spending too much time in petty squabbles and fancy debates without agreeing on important matters. Open struggle is the only way forward.

The week after my victory, I feel unstoppable. It’s like the world is at my feet. But then, and there’s always a “but then,” my house of cards starts to lose stability. On monday, I receive a strike notice from the police trade union. “Due to the excessive reduction of wages by the state government, we have no choice but to call on all law enforcement and corrections’ personnel to peacefully strike on the eighth of august, at 4:00 p.m. We hope this—” Blah, blah, blah.

The rest of the letter-shaped stab in my back is just formalities and pretty words. I call my rock. She gets into my office. “Get here tol’s president.” That’s how I call my friend from school outside here. “Oh and tell her it’s urgent,” I command. Then I reread the piece of paper. “You may want to read this first.” She hands me in another letter. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s another strike notice, from health care employers this time.

Two strike notices? And out of the blue? This is strange, too strange. I examine the second notice. They’re both for the same day, approximately the same time. This is not some random strike, this is concerted. My enemies rallied these people against me, the government incarnate. I stand up and go make some coffee to think clearer. Why now? Maybe it’s because of my victory in the Supreme… But it doesn’t make sense, I raised some of the union’s salaries to get votes for my bill.

Thank god I didn’t raise general taxes, even though they tried pressuring me into it. Maybe this was long-time coming. My rock comes in with another letter. She doesn’t have to tell me what it is. “Another?” I ask. She nods her head and says, “Firefighters.” Of course, if police went on strike, so would they. But we’re in the middle of summer, and a firefighter strike actually puts lives in danger.

“This is not good,” she says. “Find out if there’s more,” I command. “Pull every thread, turn every stone, I need to know now!” She nods and leaves my office. I pace up and down as my heart begins to beat quicker. I feel surrounded… And I know there are more strike notices to come in, I can feel it. Someone is gunning for me.

But who? Who wants me out? I turn on the news. They’re already reporting the upcoming massive strike. “… police, firefighters, garbage collectors, health care and public transportation staff will all participate in the massive strike that will take place next week—” I mute the tv. My house of cards has completely crumbled and is being stomped by grinning morons. I stare at the faces of the labour representatives that accuse me personally on tv.

I unmute the tv and listen to their poisonous stabs. I let it all sink in, their ill-conceived hatred, their condescension toward me, their treason. Then, when the news cycle starts over, I open my laptop and type in who they are and their position. I call my rock who is on the next room. She comes in. “Drop what I asked you to do before. We need to know who orchestrated this… this—” The words choke on my throat. “Coup?” she finishes. I nod. “I’m on it,” she says and leaves again.

Again alone, I think about the people I’ve f-worded over. I’d lie if I said it’s a small list. However, the list of people with enough power or influence to do this is not so big, so I decide to start there. I walk up to my secretary. “Cancel all my meetings for today. Only let through my rock and tol’s president. I’ll be at the war room.”