Loop Day - Preface
Filch The Weather
Note: In late 2017, I got the belated idea to write this story “Filch The Weather” as a fictional preface or opening chapter to my recently published anti-Trump, anti-Empire novel, Empire All In. With a simple name substitution, this story also serves as the preface to Loop Day, my second Trump novel. This standalone dual preface is emblematic of the much larger stories of the two Trump novels. I wrote Empire All In in 2016 assuming that Hillary Clinton would defeat Con Don Trump that fall. When Trump won, I built a dual story of Hilty Crimeton and Donbo King Tyrump each ruling white Empire, as the finished novel. As Hurricanes Helene and Milton blast their lethal way through Florida and the South, this story goes direct to the urgent crises of the day. And now that Trump has won the Presidency a second time, it truly is a loop day.
LOOP DAY — A SERIALIZED NOVEL
In this partisan thriller novel, two low-level Oval Office aides relive the day of their deaths over and over again, in a doomsday time loop that will end only if they foil the plan to assassinate the President and save the world.
"Climate change ... should ... be the principal preoccupation of writers the world over."
—Amitav Ghosh, The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable
"Filch you, Leif!" tantrums President Tyrump.
Presidential Aide Leif Oak begins each day with the assumption that all people — not only the President and his ilk — are batshit crazy, somewhat logical, or an odd mix of the two.
"All literature is the search for a home," Leif once read.
"And all life?" Leif wonders.
But for the sake of what bothered him most, Leif would be growing herbs and mountain figs in the high desert, working in a health clinic, and writing poetry. Leif knows how to live the good life: till the earth, heal the ill, lyricize.
Instead, there is the world to save.
"The hurricanes are destroying my golf resort!" screams President Tyrump. "Leif, call an emergency meeting! Summon the Generals! Bring in the Bankers! Tap the CEOs! Get everyone here pronto!" President Tyrump rages against the impending loss of his beloved home away from home: Mar-y-Laguna resort in Coconut Beach, Florida.
"Après nous, le déluge!" claimed rulers of the world in years gone by. Today's rulers can only declare that they are the deluge: "Nous sommes le déluge!"
More than President Tyrump's personal bottle assistant, Leif had worked for years to reach this peak of power where he served as the eyes and ears of the Resistance.
Leif controls the President's nasal spray inhalers locked inside the walnut wood of the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. These little bottles contain liquid uppers and downers designed to finesse the uncertain health and wild moods of President Tyrump. The President is bounce-off-the-walls crazy, as evident to all but the equally deluded, and without Leif's desperate handiwork, the crazy would be far worse.
The President's primary physician warned Leif upon supplying the meds, "He dies, I don't know you. Plausible deniability is all I need. No need to even be plausible. All the right people are with me. The way of the world. Any bullshit story will do. You're on your own, pal."
The socialist Resistance positioned Leif to try to limit the damage caused by the Presidency, as if all life were at stake, which, in fact, it is. This is the Anthropocene, the human-made geological epoch, the cause of Earth's ongoing sixth great mass extinction of plants and animals. The climate has changed. Life itself is pushed to the cliff edge of termination by climate collapse and the threat of nuclear destruction.
"What the Hell are you going to do about it?! Save Mar-y-Laguna!" bellows President Tyrump at his billionaire Cabinet stuffed into the Oval Office. "I command you to stop the waters! Fix the weather! Goddammit! Florida is drowning!"
"And Texas," says Leif. "Not to mention Bangladesh, and islands all across Oceania."
"Where's that?"
"Drowned by oil, gas, and coal, if you can believe the socialists," says Leif. "They also say there exist more jobs in solar. By far."
"Believe the socialists?" cries President Tyrump. "How can I believe the socialists? I don't know any!"
"They say Houston and east Texas are drowning, Florida is sinking, the West is burning, and coastlines everywhere are going under because the weather is imploding and—"
"Filch Texas!" screams President Tyrump. "Filch the weather! Filch the World! I'm talking about Mar-y-Laguna! A wall will save Texas! But what will save my resort in Florida?!"
President Tyrump grabs his handheld and tweets to the universe: Everyone in my Cabinet is a dumbass! Not forgetting my Aide Leif! Very Bad! Golf killers! Losers! Mar-y-Laguna must live! Golf good! Losers bad!
President Tyrump smashes his handheld onto the desk, terminating the device and scarring the walnut wood.
Leif pockets the President's broken device and replaces it with one of many backups.
"That's not the full story, Mr. President!" objects Pittance Viper, CEO of Goldun Sichos investment bank. "You can't blame us executives! We have grandkids, we love the planet, we love golf, we love your club! Why would we destroy Mar-y-Laguna?"
"For money." When Justice Assured of Wikilooks arrives at the meeting, nobody is wholly surprised. The voice from Wikilooks speaks from what looks like a hologram, a glowing yellow sphere hovering near the ceiling.
"I've got a fix on him," hisses NSA Director Allsee Allhear Allspy.
"I'll fix him," vows CIA Director Creepy Coupy Cutthroat.
"For money and power. For the Incorporated Estates of Dearth, you would destroy all Earth," says Justice Assured from the bright sphere. "The watchers have become the watched. We will always and everywhere track power, and report to the public."
The brilliant sphere vanishes.
"Wikilooks will pay!" fumes President Tyrump. "Make a note, Leif. We are going to kill Wikilooks, and they are going to pay for their own death!"
Leif taps his smartphone.
"If this meeting is livestreamed by Wikilooks, we're all going to pay," says Attorney General Lawkemup Libelem Lawless.
"Not me," says Vice President Rob Loot Thief. "I gave at the office."
"Me too!" squeaks Senate Leader Richi Rich Rich.
"Point me in the right direction," growls the Speaker of the House, Thuggy Thug Thuggun. "Where do I shoot?!"
"Keep it in your pants, Thuggy," says Joint Chiefs Chair, General Krushin Karvin Kilman. "Anyone goes nuclear around here, it's going to be me."
"There’s a drone for every occasion," mutters the Director of the CIA, Creepy Coupy Cutthroat.
"Nothing some bloody detective work wouldn't eliminate," boasts FBI Director, Payne Prison Pillory.
"What a clown show!" says President Tyrump. "They talk but what do they do? Leif, who ordered these clowns into my office?! Are you or are you not my dumbass bottle aide? Don't make me tweet it!"
"You told me to call them all in, Sir."
"You got to be real dumb to be a bottle aide, Leif!"
"As you say, Mr. President."
"Good. You're dumb. But not a smart ass. That's why I'm going to put you in charge! You're the boss now, Leif! The whole nation is at your command! The whole world!"
"Sir, I doubt that the Constitution allows—"
"Filch the Constitution! I'm the one in charge here! I'm putting you in charge!"
President Tyrump glares at his Cabinet and the bankers who control the money, call the shots, make the bombs, target the bombs, and fire the bombs.
"Behold, the rulers of the world! Billionaires mostly. Trillionaires! Look at what they have done! Filched the weather! They are drowning Mar-y-Laguna, my dear resort, the truest home to my heart and soul, and to my current family, and to my families of the past. Like a God, I have lived many lives. Great lives! The best of them at Mar-y-Laguna! I want to preserve my dearest home, Leif, but these dumbasses have drowned it! The hurricanes are running wild! The fires are out of control over there! The rains won't relent over here! The winds won't die down anywhere!"
"Sir," says Leif, seizing the opportunity. "Greenland is melting like an ice cube in a microwave. If the entire Greenland ice sheet melts, the seas will rise by 20 feet. A billion people will go under water, probably more. With Greenland gone, most everything else will go too. Refugees everywhere. Those who survive."
"Very good, Leif. If this were the first grade, you would get a gold star. I've heard, Leif!"
"Sir, Antarctica too is melting to nothing. That would be 200 feet of sea level rise. Not to mention permafrost melt on land and subsea, with methane emissions far worse than carbon dioxide. We are cooking the planet, Sir."
"Tell me something new, Leif! They say it could get so hot, the oceans could boil dry! Then how would we jet-ski?! The drylands drier, wetlands wetter, the coasts and lowlands sunk! The Earth a boiling pot of flesh and blood! I've seen the movies, Leif! I watch TV! You must save Mar-y-Laguna!"
"Me, Mr. President? You're the one with the power."
"Leif, if I put you in charge of the world, then you take the blame for its failure. I would sue your ass, and make a nice profit!"
"But the end of the world would mean the obliteration of all life, Mr. President."
"If it comes to that, fine. I'll tweet and tee off into the apocalypse. The End. We tweet and we die, Leif!"
"Mr. President, the last time Earth roasted like a sealed greenhouse, 97 percent of species went extinct. Life was set back hundreds of millions of years. Humans cannot survive the heat."
"Air conditioning, Leif! A modern marvel!"
"All civilization would collapse."
"Goddammit! Filch the weather!" screams President Tyrump. "Mar-y-Laguna is threatened! That's the worst thing! Water everywhere!"
"Famines and crop failures, murderous wars, endless refugees, bloody chaos—"
"You truly are a dumb ass, Leif, but no dumber than these billionaire morons here. And you have the great luxury of being Native American. You know people who touch the Earth! They talk to the waters, the sun, moon and stars! Your people jive with the oceans, rivers, lakes, and the rain in the sky! Your people cut deals with the weather!"
"That's not how it works, Sir."
"Leif, get into a sweat lodge and fix this! If you don't save Mar-y-Laguna, who will?! These goddamn billionaires are no use!"
"Bring it on!" snarls the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Krushin Karvin Kilman. "The next war will be fought against the weather!"
"Filch you, Kilman!" bawls President Tyrump.
"Smart money says we can make a killing off new weather patterns!" proclaims Senate Leader Richi Rich Rich.
"Filch you, Richi!"
"Climate change is fake news!" declares Secretary of Education Shammi Shilling Sharlatan.
"Filch you, Shammi!"
"The truth will float to the surface like a dead body!" judges Attorney General Lawkemup Libelem Lawless.
"Filch you, Lawless!"
"I will criminalize the rain!" thunders FBI Director Payne Prison Pillory.
"Filch you, Payne!"
"No Godless storm will take me alive!" bellows House Speaker Thuggy Thug Thuggun.
"Filch you, Thuggy!"
"Those who own the oil, gas, water, and sun are gaming the system," drones NSA Director Allsee Allhear Allspy. "Soon they will own all the blood. It's no problem as long as I know all about it."
"Filch you, Allspy!"
"The fossil fuel industry resents the accusation!" mutters Secretary of State Oily Oily Oily.
"Filch you, Oily!"
"I took nothing!" pleads Vice President Rob Loot Thief.
"Filch you, Loot Thief!"
"There will be no pardons!" announces CIA Director Creepy Coupy Cutthroat.
"Filch you, Coupy!"
"You are a billionaire yourself, Mr. President!" observes the ever-enrichened Treasury Secretary Deadly Dollar Dealer, a former Goldun Sichos CEO. "Did you drown your own home?"
"Filch you, Deadly!" shouts President Tyrump. "Filch you all! Leif, I order you to save Mar-y-Laguna! If you fail, I will gut you like a Thanksgiving turkey and serve your brown carcass to my family on a gold platter!"
"I'm sure that would violate the spirit of Thanksgiving, Sir."
"Filch Thanksgiving! But I'll spare your turkey ass for now, Leif. Call your people! Save the world if that's what it takes to protect Mar-y-Laguna from the rising seas. I would build a wall around my resort, but the water comes up from below! Water today is like an illegal alien from the center of the Earth!"
"Your people were immigrants to this country not so many years ago, Mr. President," notes Leif. "Also, two of your wives, including your current wife, Myownia."
"My people are American, Leif! I'm talking water killers here! Goddamn nature filchers!"
"All Florida is in the same boat, Sir. Barely above sea level. And not only Florida."
"I don't care who or what you must save to protect Mar-y-Laguna! I command you, Leif! Just do it! I'll give you a day to perform your Native magic. Results by morning! I want names, Leif. Lists of people, experts who know how to stop the drowning of my resort!"
Leif knew people who could make a difference. He also knew the President might terminate him upon learning he was a socialist. There was no shortage of dungeons for the disappeared in the Incorporated Estates of Dearth.
"I never loved people, Leif, only my own special place in life! Mar-y-Laguna! My resort must be secure! Do it, Leif!"
Could the President possibly be serious? Sane?
"You're goddamn straight I'm serious, Leif! Don't tell me I don't act serious! I see that shifty look in your eyes! Get to work! Don't you dare think! The rest of you filching morons, get the filch out of here! No one interferes with Leif saving my club, or I will filch you all!"
"Now hold on, Mr. President," says Goldun Sichos CEO Pittance Viper: "I will finance the preservation of Mar-y-Laguna. If the price is right. A few tens of trillions of dollars should do it."
"Be gone, Viper! Out with you all!" President Tyrump brays. "Leif, stay a minute."
After the Oval Office disgorges the rich and powerful, Leif notes, "It's nearly time for your bottle, Mr. President."
"Prepare it, Leif."
Leif uses a fingerprint scan, then types in the code that opens the side compartment hidden in the walnut wood of the presidential desk. He procures the President's favorite nighttime concoction, good for the tweeting.
Suddenly a giant white wave smashes through the glass doors of the Oval Office. It slams President Tyrump.
The world explodes in water.
Not fire. Not ice. Water.
A tsunami strikes the Atlantic coast, drowns the First State of Delaware, erases the Chesapeake Bay, rushes up the Potomac River and blasts through Washington DC, wiping out the White House.
The climate has changed. Collapsed.
The long-time self-regulating and life-giving greenhouse that once was Earth has now, like the Presidency of the Incorporated Estates of Dearth, gone berserk.
And from that terrifying moment, Leif awakens.
In the kitchen adjacent to the Oval Office, Leif had fallen asleep on a chair by the table.
He wonders whether in a bout of weakness he inhaled one of President Tyrump's potent brews.
On the table before Leif sits a glass of water, the ice cubes melting.
"We're in trouble." The ice speaks.
Throughout these long years, Leif has come to grips with many dire realities decades before most people would admit to them, little details, like the threat of human species extinction by nuclear holocaust, also climate collapse. Today Leif wonders if the dire realities have finally overwhelmed him and the world.
President Tyrump strolls into the kitchen from the Oval Office.
"Leif, get your ass up! We've got shit to do! I like you, Leif. You seem like you can take a punch. You need to save Mar-y-Laguna! Come on, now! Save Florida, Texas, and the entire world if that's what it takes to save my lovely resort home!"
"Sir, you are the President of the most powerful nation on Earth. I am a mere bottle aide."
"You've seen my Cabinet, Leif! They cheer their reflections in gold mirrors. They wave the flag like a get-out-of-jail-free card! They don't give a shit about anything but their wallets, their bank accounts, and the stuff that goes into their wallets and bank accounts!"
"Money, Sir?"
"Filch, yes!"
"Fire them, Sir."
"It would be like firing myself! They would get back at me. That's why I need you, Leif. People like you. People people. Real people. People who actually care about what becomes of the world."
Leif wonders if he is dreaming.
And then something strikes him.
Leif is submerged in churning heavy water as if a sudden storm surge has flooded the White House again — for the first time.
Leif smashes into what feels like rock.
The force of water glues him to it.
The pressure eases, the water lowers. Leif slides down the rock until he hits soggy ground. It’s the base of the Washington Monument.
"Am I alive or dead?" Leif speaks to anyone who can hear. Apparently no one. "This can't be happening. I must not exist. Everything is too clear, too simple, too unbelievable. Earth is giving way beneath me."
The Washington Monument is collapsing. Leif can feel it. The towering obelisk is not subtle. No nuance there.
Leif awakens.
He sits up in bed at night.
Tomorrow, I may take over the Presidency. Am I batshit crazy?
The sphere of Wikilooks appears and glows beside Leif, before vanishing.
Easing back to pillows, Leif dreams of figs, and lyrics. Patients.
All literature is experience for living.
Cold water rises beneath Leif.
Water covers his mouth and nose.
Leif walks through water.
He enters the Oval Office where he finds himself face-to-face with President Tyrump.
"This is my only home," says Leif.
"Your home?!"
"The Earth."
"Filch you, Leif!" The President vomits.
Leif is deported. Sent back to the highlands of his reservation nation.
Leif walks through the miracle of a lush permaculture orchard.
He picks juicy ripe figs.
He brings the figs to a clinic where he attends to patients throughout the day.
Then he walks toward his home and family.
The sphere of Wikilooks appears like a star before him: "We must return you to the Oval Office, Leif."
"How?"
"We'll try."
Leif wakes in the White House.
He steps into the Oval Office and finds President Tyrump lying on the rug, tweeting: There's no place like home! There's no place like home! There's no place like home! Save Mar-y-Laguna! Whatever it takes! Save my precious home from the wind, the water, the weather, and the filching flag wavers!
"Time for your next bottle, Mr. President. You have a big day tomorrow. It's late."
"Already, Leif?"
"Yes, it’s very late, Sir, so very, very late now."
President Tyrump takes the bottle. And Leif tucks him into bed.
