Public Domain Heroes: The Press Guardian #5
David Michael Newstead | The Philosophy of Shaving
“Okay, so what do you want to know?” The man asked as he lit an imported cigar.
Bartholomew Danor was a former army officer and currently the leader of the small, far-right Eternal Nation Party. Impeccably dressed, his face was nonetheless weathered and looked more like leather than human skin. After weeks of clandestine communications, the Press Guardian was able to smuggle him to a secure location for an interview with Cynthia Blake. It was deep background, totally secret, and he insisted on complete anonymity for obvious reasons – his own safety.
Cynthia studied her notes, while Perry Chase guarded the door from behind his mask as the Press Guardian. The room was cold and entirely concrete except for a small wooden table and chairs where they’d be having their conversation.
“First, I’m curious why you were willing to talk to us? On paper, your party seems like a natural ally of the New National Dream,” Cynthia said.
Danor laughed a little, “Not the case, unfortunately. Reporters don’t understand anything about politics, so I’m glad I have the chance to educate you.”
As she looked at him, Cynthia suddenly realized that Danor had a vein that went from the top of his scaly bald scalp down his forehead before disappearing into his haggard facial features. He smiled at her.
“What am I missing?” Cynthia said, “You’ve been advocating for some of these same policies for years now: stronger national defense, expelling all immigrants, demonizing the press, preserving our culture against the ‘evils’ of foreign values and homosexuality.”
“Listen, I know what you think of me,” he replied, “You think I’m a chauvinist, a misogynist, homophobic, racist, womanizing, warmongering Neanderthal, right? But I’m not really any of those things. The fact is, I tell people what they want to hear. That’s all. After the old regime collapsed, its most reactionary supporters didn’t just cease to exist. That’s the key fact left-wing intellectuals like you don’t want to acknowledge. Those people vote. More importantly, they donate money. Lots of it! You might find that part of the business uncivilized, but it’s a reality.”
“The business?” The Press Guardian interjected from the doorway.
“Politics, my boy,” Danor grinned wide, “It’s the business of people.”
“So, it’s all about profit for you, not those long held principles you talk about in your speeches?” Cynthia asked.
“Good god…” he replied, puffing on his cigar, “That’s what the whole song and dance is about in parliament. Small parties like mine are in an incredibly lucrative position. The Greens? Left-Labor? Their leaders aren’t living in the poorhouse either. We collect huge retainers every election cycle from all kinds of interest groups that want to hedge their bets.”
“Against what, Mr. Danor?” Cynthia said, coughing a little from the strong smoke.
“My dear… At least, historically, a small party on the correct side of the ideological spectrum has the opportunity to be a kingmaker in a tight election when the big parties are struggling to form a government,” he chuckled, “Think of it as insurance. Our donors certainly do.”
“And the New National Dream upsets the balance?” Cynthia followed-up, raising an eyebrow.
“Disrupting my income stream is just part of the problem, believe me. But yes, that’s how the animosity started between our parties. Krebtz and his goons are nothing but trouble. They are what I only pretend to be.”
“And what’s that?” Cynthia prodded him, wanting Danor to admit the truth about his odious platform.
The former colonel stared squarely back at her, “They’re autocrats, Ms. Blake. Pure and simple. Fascists who want all the spoils for themselves. You know this. They act with the thinnest veil of legality, but they’ve been dismantling parliament piece by piece for years now. And I don’t fit into their vision for the future anymore than you do.”
“So what has the regime been doing that most people aren’t aware of?”
“First off,” he explained, “… the size of the major opposition parties has actually worked to their disadvantage in this case. Every election cycle, they’re further infiltrated by moles and double agents. Those fresh faced, young candidates? It’s a ruse, my dear. I suspect less than two thirds of the big parties are still even made up of genuine legislators anymore. But I’m only estimating.”
Cynthia was taken aback, “You’re saying actual members of parliament, members of the opposition no less, are secretly agents of the regime?”
“Yes. A growing cohort of them, at least. It’s taken Krebtz a while to achieve it, but some parliamentarians and/or their staff members are puppets of the president.”
“Do you think this was achieved through threats of violence or blackmail?” Cynthia leaned in as she spoke.
“Both!” Danor responded, “Plus, good old-fashioned bribery! But I suspect a sizable number of them are true believers in the New National Dream, right out of the party’s training schools. Real members of parliament are terrified, of course, because they don’t know who to trust anymore from their staff, their own political parties, or anywhere else. Frankly, I’m not even sure I should be talking to you right now…” Danor paused to linger on his cigar, “My guess is the Greens will be the last holdouts. Those union murders have probably finished off the Left-Labor Party as a force in the legislature, which is a shame. Those guys were great card players and a lot of fun at the bar.”
“You say that like Krebtz’s victory is inevitable. If that’s the case, what’s to be gained by talking to us?”
“It is inevitable in the short-term. But there’s still hope for the country, in my opinion,” Danor replied, “Krebtz doesn’t have full control over the security services yet or the military. Especially the Officer Corps. There are people who believe in the republic and the rule of law and fair play. For now. That’s his main obstacle. Otherwise, he would have strangled our democracy six months ago.”
“So, why have you come forward now?” she asked. “Why not six months ago?”
“Two reasons. I was vaguely aware of the role the Chessman was playing for the regime and I don’t have a death wish. Your masked friend took care of that concern, so here I am. Secondly, there’s a clause within the revised Political Party Registration Act that’s currently before parliament that would allow Krebtz to appropriate any parties’ bank accounts, which will effectively demolish the last organized opposition. Now, in theory that’s only for emergency reasons in defense of the republic, but since Krebtz will have discretion to define what an emergency is, I suspect my party will be robbed the day after this law passes.”
“Why hasn’t this proposed change received more attention in your view?” Cynthia asked.
“As I said, the Chessman…” Danor began to speak.
“But your own money is your main motivation, is that correct?” Cynthia cut him off mid-sentence.
“My livelihood, you mean? Yes! I’m not ashamed of acting in my own self-interest, but they just so happen to align with the interests of our glorious republic. So, you don’t have to talk to me like I’m some greedy asshole. That money is what fuels actual, practical opposition, my dear. That’s party workers’ salaries. It buys expensive campaign advertising and pays legal costs. In our system, informal groups of citizens don’t have the same abilities or standing as lawfully registered political parties.”
Danor continued, “Without parliamentary oversight, Krebtz is going to start transferring taxpayer money into the pockets of his cronies on an unimaginable scale.”
“How?” she asked.
“Military contracts, special tax incentives, subsidies, approved lists of government vendors and suppliers, construction deals, economic development funding, business licensing, registered political consulting, privatization schemes, nationalization schemes, and about a million other ways. You think my tailored suits and steak dinners are bad? We’re talking about 700 billion euro a year. Once that faucet is opened, I don’t know if it can ever be closed again. The New National Dream will essentially be moving as much of the country’s annual budget into their own bank accounts as possible. And there’ll be no enforcement of campaign contribution rules anymore or spending limits. They could install rabid loyalists to every position that matters. Classify anything that’s inconvenient to them. It’s a governance nightmare.”
He stopped to slip from a bottle of sparkling water before continuing on with comical hand gestures, “People mistake their opinions and their thoughts and feelings for opposition to the regime, but there are tangible mechanics at play, my dear. Gaps that can’t be overcome by editorial articles, viral videos, or clever protest signs. It doesn’t matter how social media savvy you are if you can’t win at the ballot box. That’s what Krebtz is preparing to destroy. And our elections will become a rigged boxing match if they succeed.”
Cynthia grimaced. Danor had a habit of calling her “my dear” in a way that was both charming and disgusting at the same time. As they spoke, he was visibly looking her up and down. His teeth were obnoxiously artificially white and his irises seemed to sparkle at her whenever she made eye contact with him. In the recesses of her mind, Cynthia groaned and sighed and screamed, but labored onwards in the interview. Fucking creep, she thought.
“What’s your personal assessment of the President?” she said, “You must have interacted with him during his years in parliament.”
“Have you met Alexander Krebtz before?” Danor asked sarcastically, “He’s a grimy little man. Another self-important jackass with no style or finesse. The one thing I’ll say about him though is that he knows how to turn any bureaucracy into a lethal weapon. He’s like a deranged accountant trying to kill you with papercuts. His little cabal will attack their enemies by any means within the law and outside the law and by changing the rules. And by the time you realize that fight is even happening, it might already be lost. I’ve seen it many times.”
“You’ve made a lot of serious allegations today,” Cynthia said, “If I may ask, how do you know some of these things?”
Danor chuckled again and didn’t talk for a few seconds, “I come bearing gifts, Ms. Blake,” Then, he handed her a thick folder of documents.
Cynthia and the Press Guardian locked eyes for a moment, amazed at this trove of evidence.
“We really must speak again sometime,” Danor said as he stood up, preparing to leave, “You’re such an engaging interviewer.”
They shook hands and Danor headed for the door. The Press Guardian checked down that long hallway decorated with pipes and conduits running along the ceiling. There was no one.
“Come with me, Mr. Danor,” he told him and Cynthia anxiously watched the two of them depart.
Citing Crime Wave, President Krebtz Launches New Security Initiative
By Andrew Andrewson | National City Bulletin
Surrounded by law enforcement and business leaders, the President signed an executive decree on Wednesday, designed to strengthen police and stop violent crime across Yaharza. “We will defend our citizens at any cost!” Krebtz told those in attendance before putting pen to paper. Considered a major escalation in the war on crime, the order will direct more money to local departments, make sizable investments in new electronic capacities and training resources, and greatly expand the powers of the Interior Ministry’s Special Office. CONTINUED ON PAGE B9
