Friday Fiction: “Revolution!”
Revolution! A Sci-Fi Fable…
Copyright 2025, Steven M. Moore
The middle=aged man code-named Zorro, host of the meeting, tapped his wineglass to bring the group to order. “Welcome, my friends.”
He smiled at the ethnic mix of women and men seated around the old table in the game room above the old pub’s main floor. All of them were patriots who, as refugees living in Canada, had organized the American resistance.
“We will now take the final vote on whether we’re ready to end the fascist reign of this moron who arrogantly believes he’s America’s new fuehrer.”
“It’s a big step to take,” Tinkerbell warned. As a Federal Appellate Judge, she’d refused to go along with the tyrant’s plans to insist that every federal employee had to take an oath of fealty to the despot. She’d also presided over a trial where America’s DoJ had dared to prosecute one of the principal oligarchs supporting the administration. Consequently, she had to flee for her life when some militia members the American dictator had released attacked her residence. The black eyepatch, showing how close they’d come, matched the one the militia’s leader wore.
Others in the room had similar grievances. Their stories were the glue that bound the group together. But were they resolute enough to commit what the American dictator would surely call treason, even though he’d attempted the same thing years earlier?
“It’s time to vote,” Zorro said.
The vote was unanimous. The invasion of their homeland would proceed as planned. It would be a massive attack moving south on three different fronts: From Vancouver, Windsor, and Prince Edward Island, mixed forces of American ex-pats and Canadian patriots would stream across the border to take over what they would soon call the North American Free States. It would still be a limited invasion, though: No one cared about the old fascist red states, what the invaders called the Fascist States of America and the center of the American dictator’s power. A new wall would be built to quarantine their fascists.
“Shock and awe” couldn’t begin to describe the invasion. The American dictator had to flee in Air Force One to Russia just like that Syrian dictator before him. The fascists in the US Congress and SCOTUS barely escaped with their lives to Florida and Texas where they might be safe for the time being.
Casualties among the invading forces from Canada were eventually buried with honor at Arlington Cemetery. Casualties from the fascist hordes were hauled away to landfills and unceremoniously dumped to rot like the rest of the garbage.
Eleven years later what remained of the Fascist States of America surrendered to the North American Free States that had been joined by the Canadian provinces along the old border, a just twist on the dream that the American dictator once had entertained. By that time, Mt. McKinley had become Denali once again; and the Gulf of America, a name no other country in the western hemisphere had ever used, once again was called the Gulf of Mexico.
Peace was once again restored in the Americas, and no one wanted to remember the threat of the old American dictator now giving worms indigestion in an unmarked grave near Moscow.
Morale? McD’s meals and fascism aren’t a good mix!
