“Yes! You can do all of that – and more. So bring your seekers to that cabin. Bring enough so that you can kill them all. Do it. Do it. Do it.”
The Great Consulate nodded as he continued to look across the East River and to his beloved drones. The voice was right. The voice was always right. But first…first he needed time in his killing room. Yes…there must always be time for that. The thought made him giggle as his hand once again brushed against his decimated groin.
But he was not mad. So he told himself…over and over again.
XII.
The four survivors of Dominatus, along with Cooper Wyse, and Cooper’s associate Imran, settled into the cramped interior of the drop cabin. Imran had brought food as a gift, a tradition he had learned long ago from his own family back in Turkey – never arrive as a guest without giving something in appreciation.
The six sat on the floor eating dried fruit and strips of well seasoned caribou jerky, washing it all down with cool water from Imran’s large thermos. It was, all things considered, a reasonably good meal.
Imran asked more than once if they found the jerky acceptable. Bear had consumed several large strips of it in the span of just a few minutes, and clapped the little man on the back, sending his upper body forward toward the floor.
“Good stuff Imran! You come from Turkey, huh? Well then, I’m gonna call this Turkey-jerky, and it’s good! Keep it coming!”
Imran smiled widely at the compliment and offered Bear the final strip, which Bear quickly swiped and devoured, more than living up to his long-standing nickname.
Reese studied Imran carefully, waiting to proceed with a series of questions he wanted answered. Finally, after the last of the jerky and dried fruit was gone, and a moment of silence hung between all of them, those questions were posed to the newest member of the group.
“Imran, do you mind if I ask you some things?”
Imran glanced over to Cooper, who said nothing, before he looked back at Reese.
“I would be honored, Mr. Neeson. You are…you are well known to me and many others. So many of us listened to your words from Dominatus during the attacks. Please ask me anything and I will do my best to answer you.”
Reese paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
“You…your family was part of the forced Muslim migration into Canada, right?”
Imran nodded his agreement without speaking.
“What was the purpose of this migration? Why is it that the New United Nations left Canada alone – that it wasn’t required to follow the mandates? I’ve heard some explanation of that before, but you experienced it first hand. I want to know your version of it.”
Imran appeared to hesitate for a brief moment, his eyes glancing at the floor. Then he returned Reese’s gaze and held it before proceeding.
“What was once Canada is following the mandates of the New United Nations, just a different version of them. Canada is rich with resources the globalists need. Fuel, coal, wood, and chaos. Chaos…it is the threat of chaos that keeps so many in the former United States in line. Years ago, just after the American president was made the Great Consulate, a series of videos were released by the government controlled news agencies showing beheadings happening in Canada. Do you recall those? I was barely a young man by then, but I remember them very well. They were very graphic, very brutal. These beheadings were carried out by newly transplanted residents into Canada, radicals who followed Sharia. It was said they were punishing their own, and so that was, at first. But then…then they were shown punishing white Canadians. People who were alleged to have done an injustice to Muslims. Do you recall this?”
Reese nodded. He had witnessed the brutality of the beheadings from numerous media reports, as well as recalling the panic it created within the former United States and throughout parts of Europe where the Muslim threat was by then even more significant.
Imran continued.
“And while the New United Nations condemned these beheadings, it did nothing to stop them. Nothing. In fact, some have said they were the ones ordering those terrible acts. They were the ones who disseminated the videos to the media. They created the threat of Muslim radicals, they promised to protect the millions who remained inside the borders of the former United States. You see, it was said that only the New United Nations had the power to stop the Muslim threat – but it was the New United Nations that created that threat in the first place!”
“But why is the Canadian Black Market allowed to flourish in direct violation of the mandates? Why would the New United Nations powers allow that to happen?”
Reese’s question brought a smile from Imran’s face as he pointed to Mac.
“Mr. Walker, you were military, yes? For many years? And some of those years were spent throughout the Middle East, correct?”
Mac gave one brief nod but said nothing.
“And what did you see? Who…who was so often in power in that part of the world? Was it the official government, or was it someone or something else? If you needed access through an area, through a town, who did you set that up with? Say in Pakistan, or Iraq…or Libya?”
Mac glanced at Reese, and then stared back at Imran.
“If we were among hostiles, we had to coordinate with the local warlords. The clerics, the generational families who controlled the land – people like that. They were scum, dangerous, but would take money, or promises of weapons, whatever. As long as they allowed us access, or a window of time, that’s all we cared about.”
Imran’s eyes narrowed slightly as he paused, wanting Mac to take his answer just a little further.
“And who, Mr. Walker, who funded these warlords as you call them? So often, where did that money come from? Who provided them weapons? Who further consolidated their power?”
‘Besides the United States government?”
Mac’s comment held no humor – he wasn’t joking.
Imran nodded again, his smile returning.
“Yes! Besides the Americans, who funded so many of these groups? These very people you described as dangerous, as scum?”
Mac covered his mouth with his right hand and coughed, then cleared his throat. He appeared to be very, very tired. Brando’s head was on his lap as the former Navy SEAL’s left hand gently scratched behind the Doberman’s ears.
“Most the money, if you followed the trail, which our people did from time to time, most the money came from the Saudis. Millions here. Millions there. Sometimes hundreds of millions or even billions. More than enough to buy up huge sections of countries. Take Afghanistan, for instance. The Saudis didn’t much bother with the capital of Kabul. Let the Afghan government pretend to run things there, but the Saudis controlled just about everything else. In a country of thirty million or so people, the Saudi influence dominated at least two thirds of them. You had thirty-four Afghan provinces. The Saudis had at least twenty, maybe thirty of them bought and paid for. And all that money the U.S. government was sending to Kabul to prop up the national government? The Saudis were taking their cut of that as well. They would turn right around and dump that money back into the other provinces – using American tax dollars to buy up weapons and resistance to use against the American military. It was one huge, pathetic cluster-fuck.”
“And was this arrangement, it was common throughout the Middle East, yes?”
Mac nodded slowly as his eyes closed.
“Yeah, sure. Iraq after Saddam was gone. Egypt after Mubarak was forced out. Libya after Gaddafi. Same thing. The power vacuum was always replaced by an increased Saudi presence. They used the Muslim Brotherhood to do a lot of it. That’s what so many people missed. The Brotherhood connection. Or they didn’t want it pointed out because the Brotherhood had such close ties inside the American government.”
Reese opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then went ahead and posed another question.
“I thought the Muslim Brotherhood was banned in Saudi Arabia? I recall reports indicating the two groups, the Brotherho
od and the Saudi Royal Family, didn’t trust each other.”
Mac chuckled.
“Sure, that’s what the media repeated to everyone and anyone who would ask. Not that many did. Most people back then if you asked them about the Muslim Brotherhood would have had no idea who they were. None. Too busy tweeting about nonsense to pay attention to their world destroyed all around them.
“Fact is, the founder of the Brotherhood was a guy named Hassan al-Banna. I seen the file myself on him. Back in the 1940’s he was going back and forth from Egypt to Saudi Arabia regularly. Getting funding for the Brotherhood. From the very beginning the Saudi Royal Family was using the Brotherhood to create disruption, chaos, all the things that drove up the price of oil and made them wealthier than anyone else in the world. Trillions of dollars of wealth. Even we couldn’t figure out how much money they had. It was so well hidden, transfers from one government to another, ghost corporations, media groups, the environmental movement…people a lot better at that stuff than me would go through it all and come back with “inconclusive”. It was impossible to figure out just how much money they really had, but it was a hell of a lot. More than the U.S. government had. Talking real money here, not the fake shit we were printing off for decades before it all came crashing down.
“Now this thing was a long time coming. The Saudis, the Brotherhood…it was decades and decades of work and then, after 2008, everything was accelerated. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back on it all, I see then that 2008 was when they pushed the real go button on all of it. We saw Egypt fall, Libya, Syria, the unrest in Turkey, the back and forth in Iraq and Iran, all of the crap in Europe, and eventually, it came to the United States and Canada. The Saudis sat back and watched all the years of planning, all the money invested…it all just fell into place for them. That sound about right, Imran?”
Imran nodded again, though with no enthusiasm this time. His eyes held a deep sadness as the memories of his family’s forced relocation to Canada swept over him.
“Yes. The Brotherhood, it had become the most powerful group in Turkey. Openly hostile to everyone else. You were…you were either with them or you were not. There was no in-between. It was they who organized the re-location to Canada and as Mac has said…the Brotherhood in turn was sponsored by the Saudis. The Saudis promised the Brotherhood vast lands, such as Canada, Australia…so long as the Brotherhood in turn provided a market by which the wealthy and powerful could continue to enjoy certain things…products, that had become outlawed under the mandates. They worked in conjunction with the political leaders of that time who were open to such an arrangement. I saw that myself as a young man here in Canada. Local officials would simply look away as crimes were committed. Murders. Chaos. Until eventually, that chaos overtook the entire system. The new powers…the New United Nations, needed a Black Market that allowed them access to the very resources that it had banned the use of by the general population. No more can a private citizen travel by plane to another location. They must remain in a designated area where they can more easily be monitored, yes? But who is allowed to travel across the world if they so choose? The ruling class. The New United Nations. The Saudis. And where is the fuel obtained for those planes? From the Black Markets of Canada and elsewhere. And that Black Market has made more wealth for those who had already been wealthy. Real wealth. Not the fake New United Nations credits. Ban the use of oil and what happens to it? It becomes that much more valuable as it becomes that much more limited. The Saudis knew this long ago. That is what has happened to every resource.”
Brando’s head suddenly lifted from Mac’s lap. The Doberman stared intently through a window to the outside for a moment, before lowering his head again and drifting back to sleep.
Mac too was staring off through the window as his voice seemed to come from some place very far away inside himself.
“We gave it all away. Bit by bit until there was nothing left of what it once was. Nobody cared. Nobody was paying attention.”
Dublin reached over to lightly touch Mac’s left leg.
“What did we give away, Mac?”
Mac looked over at Dublin and appeared to almost smile, but then his gaze returned to the outside.
“America. Our way of life. We didn’t realize…not all of us anyway. Didn’t realize how many others in the world wanted to destroy us because of what we had. Namely what we had was freedom and opportunity. It just didn’t sink in how good we had it, you know? Nobody wanted to admit the possibility that somebody could be elected president who actually hated what the country stood for. Hated the United States. Most of you are too young to remember that time. The political correctness. How anyone who opposed what the government was doing – how they were called racist. Stupid. Crazy. Eventually, the government would just come in an arrest them. Send them to a re-education facility. Wasn’t long before nobody was willing to talk out. Everybody just kept their heads down and didn’t say anything. Lots of talking going on of course…about the weather, about some new reality program on the TV, but for all that talking going on – nobody was actually saying anything.”
Cooper Wyse, who had been sitting silently listening intently to the conversation, finally spoke up.
“That would explain the immigration push. And not just what happened in Canada with the radical Muslims, and what happened in the United States. How all those people were brought in from places that didn’t speak out against the governments they came from, right? Think about it – if you want to bring down America, what better way to do that than bring in a bunch of voters that either hate America already, or can’t be bothered to try and save something they don’t really understand or would miss if it’s gone?”
Mac snapped his fingers and pointed to Cooper.
“There you go, Coop, right on the money there. And if you would have said anything like that say back in 2010 or 2014, you’d have been run out as a crazy racist son-of-a-bitch. When in fact, what you’re saying is all about saving America. What you just said there about the immigration thing is absolutely right. Makes sense now, don’t it? Why those big government liberal types were so big on open borders and bringing in anyone and anything that hated America. No need to take over America, or try to openly destroy it, when you can just sit back and watch it eat itself up from the inside.”
Bear shook his head with disgust.
“Like a cancer.”
Mac gave a pained smile at Bear’s comment, followed by a barely heard whispered response.
“Yeah, like a damn cancer.”
XIII.
The Great Consulate was whining in anticipation of the time soon to be spent in his killing room. A new seeker had been delivered to him just yesterday, and it was a beautiful specimen. Stronger than the earlier versions. The lab was getting better at producing them. Thousands of aborted fetuses went into the creation of each successfully engineered seeker. The Great Consulate did not think in terms of cost though. He had long been an advocate of forced abortion. The general population could not be trusted to take care of such things themselves. Food and water resources for them were limited, so therefore, the population must remain at a constant. That was simply a fact, and it was up to the government to enforce that fact. In doing so, if hundreds of thousands of unwanted lives were terminated in the process, so be it.
Oh, but the seekers! What a wonderful and brilliant creation were they! And of his own DNA too! Years ago the New United Nations had obtained documents from a former program originally initiated by the communist government in China. They too had utilized the genetic material from their own long-standing forced abortion program. They had not the science then to accomplish what it took the New United Nations Department of Genetic Engineering but a few years to do – the creation of life!
“You are a god, that is what ultimately made the program such a success. It was your DNA that proved the final component to creating the Seekers. You are God. The only true God.”
Yes! The voice was right of cours
e. He was God. There was no distinction between where his life as a mere human began, and where the realization of his divinity began. They had always been one and the same. Senator. President. Emperor. God. All one from the same. That is what he was, what he had always been. What he would forever be.
Let all those others live in their world of politics and posturing. He was beyond all of that now. He had always been beyond all of that. Better than all of that. Greater than all of that. He was the Alpha and Omega of this world. He was its beginning, and if he chose, its end as well. Just as he was the beginning and end of the billions of lives that lived under the supervision of the New United Nations.
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