Obama popped a piece of Nicorette into his mouth and took out his iPad. “Why don’t you get the bastards?” he said, laughing ruefully. He looked at Susan. “Susan, why don’t you get the bastards?” “I still think we should just put them in the terror dome,” I said. For a few weeks, we’d fantasized about creating a kind of Hunger Games with ISIL, al Qaeda, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, the Russian special forces in eastern Ukraine; we’d just gather up all of the world’s most nihilistic forces and put them under one dome.
