Yishuv

the birth of a nation

chapter III: "building the perfect beast"

(United Nations, New York)--The
World Mutant Congress was offi-
cially given observer status in
the General Assembly today, follow-
ing a bitterly-fought conflict
between Third World and Western
nations. Only the diligent efforts
of the United Kingdom assured that
a modified resolution was pushed
through, one which would severely
limit the activities of the WMC
but which would, nonetheless, pro-
vide the first, official repre-
sentation of mutantdom on the
world stage.

Reached for comment, WMC president
Lord Augustus Saxe-Coburg & Gotha's
office released a statement reading,
in part, that "the Congress is very
pleased with the General Assembly's
actions and thanks the tireless efforts
of the UK delegation to secure the
voting privileges of the mutant
community in committee. Of course,
our first preference was for a status
similar to that of the former
Palestinian Authority or the Sahrawi
Arab Autonomous Republic but we are an
ever-patient people and we believe
that, in the end, our representation
will be secured in toto and without
prejudice."

Contrasting this, the leader of the
Ge'ah'l (Redeemer) Party, Magnus, formerly
Magneto, released a terse statement
"...accepting present-day realities
and (promised to reintroduce) a
stronger resolution in the next
session which would boost our status
to appropriate levels."
(Reuters)

(London, UK)--A special delegation
from the World Mutant Congress has
been dispatched to Whitehall in
an effort to coordinate policy
prior to the final vote in the
United Nations General Assembly
on the so-called 'Mutant Mandate'
programme.

The head of the delegation, WMC
president Lord Saxe-Coburg & Gotha,
is scheduled to meet with Prime
Minister Tony Blair at 11:00 AM
GMT.

A final vote on the creation of
a mandatory programme which would
envision the creation of an embryonic
mutant state is set for March 14
and tensions have been rising as
the Great Powers shuffle from dele-
gation to delegation in an attempt
to influence the final tally.

It should be noted that due to
Security Council reforms in the
waning years of the last century,
a General Assembly vote can only
be suspended by a Permanent Security
Council veto of more than three
members, something which places
this particular vote in an unusual
light.

The United States and Russia
are said to be leaning towards a
veto while the United Kingdom is
on record--as the cosponsor of the
resolution--as being favourable.
France and Germany are being sought
out vigorously by both sides while
Japan vows to abstain from taking any
action at all. Indeed, the main
enigmas in the Security Council
seem to be Brazil, India and South Africa,
all of whom almost seem to relish
the possibility of being feted by
the elder Permanent Members.
(The Times of London)

10 Downing Street

London,

United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

The prime minister slid the communiqué over to Augustus and I. "Paris is going to veto the resolution," he sighed, frowning. "Partly, that's why I agreed to your presence at this meeting, Magnus. I can only think of one thing that might save this proposal but it's going to require your acquiescence to it."

I looked over at the viscount, who was, even now, struggling to hold down his consternation at this latest turn of events. "Go ahead," I said, looking back at my host.

"The sense I'm getting from Paris and, to an extent, even Berlin is that they worry about how little control the mandatory power will have over the mandate, itself. Some feel, and perhaps this is a bit justified, that you might as well take the 'embryonic' out of the description of Nova Canaan. What will be set up by the resolution would be a de facto state right at Day One. That is unacceptable to many Europeans, particularly Russia and, to a lesser extent, France and Germany. There's a kind of breast-beating here, in Europe. The EU is only now getting its act together and the Common Foreign Policy initiatives are still delicately phrased. Just this once, many EU members would like to see the will of the Union expressed with a degree of unanimity." A sigh. "And then there's the United States. I needn't remind you that America is emphatically against this proposal in its entirely."

"No," I nodded grimly. Anyone who noted the way the elections were shaping up to be over there could see the public was absolutely terrified by the notion...and the politicians, if anything, mirrored and even intensified such feelings. "What would you have me do, prime minister? Believe me, if I can help, I would but I don't see where--"

"Agree to a ten year mandate instead of three year one," he said, interrupting. "In addition, allow some flesh to be put onto the bones of the mandatory regime. Perhaps a High Commissioner or something like that. In any case," he leaned forward, folding his hands, "we're going to have to agree to a lot more...more of what you've called 'interference' in Nova Canaanite affairs than either of us wanted. I was perfectly willing to let the resolution slide and place a titular mandatory power in charge of a limited development course but with Paris' apparent decision...things are looking bad. Something has to be done and done fast. You don't have a lot of time to salvage this before the vote is held."

I closed my eyes and massaged them gently with the tips of my fingers. So close... We were so close! "I'm honoured by the thought that you think I'm capable of having the most influence on the Congress, prime minister, but you're asking for a hard sell."

Augustus held up a hand, steadying me. "Perhaps I've a way to make this a bit more easier to swallow," he said, stroking his chin. "What if we agreed to your stipulations but added one of our own?"

"That depends on the stipulation, of course," Blair said. "Remember, we don't even know if agreeing to a longer, beefier mandate will placate Paris. I'm sure you don't want to insert anything which will be deemed as a 'killer' amendment."

"What would you say to the mandatory power being Britain?" Augustus asked. "An admitted concession to us, yes, considering the UK is sponsoring the resolution but London's not going to want to be seen as a 'dupe' to the WMC in the world's eyes, will it? So I would think that, in the interests of fairness, the UK would be even more scrupulous of the mandatory than, say, someone who titularly opposes or is neutral towards it, hmm?"

The prime minister whistled, leaning back in his chair. "That's a bit convoluted on the logic, wouldn't you say? Even if I could convince the Cabinet and then Parliament of taking on those kinds of responsibilities--no mean feat I assure you--there is no guarantee that the other members of the Perm-10 would sign off on it. I'm particularly worried--again--about Paris. I think Berlin could be placated by such an offer, perhaps even New Delhi and Pretoria... I don't know about Brasilia or Tokyo, though. This might move either into opposition." He stroked his chin. "I'm not certain I could sell Paris on such an arrangement...but I might be able to do so if it were reconstituted as an EU--rather than simply a British--mandate. It would also, frankly, make it a lot easier to sell to Parliament. Our budget is rather tight these days."

I wanted to scream. Instead, I gripped my hands into fists and took a long, deep breath, feeling the effects of the exercise ease the raging blood in my veins. "We've come this close--too close--to allow the Mutant National Home to be scuttled like this," I said, steadily. "I don't like it--in fact I loathe it--but I will be able to push an EU-mandate through the Ge'ah'l Party. In fact, I think this kind of arrangement will work in our benefit, as far as the Congress goes. The Yatzahim--the Closure Party--and the Liberal & Social Democrats will undoubtedly feel a lot more comfortable with Europe at the helm of a mandate than, say, a unilateralist France or unabashedly negative America." I glanced over at Augustus. "Perhaps even Summers' Progressives will be placated...but I doubt it. If we're lucky," I grinned, "they'll split down the centre."

"Naughty lad," the viscount chuckled. Turning back towards the British Prime Minister: "Sir, I think the World Mutant Congress can live with this kind of arrangement. I sincerely hope you will present it forthwith to the Paris delegation as an option to the imminent threat of defeat. If need be, I'm certain we'll be more than willing to send a delegation to the French President and/or Prime Minister to attempt to dissuade him of this course of action. We, of course, would also be willing to go to Brussels and Strasbourg as well, should Paris sign off on this." Quieter: "Frankly, prime minister, a defeat would only serve those who would opt for a more unilateralist approach, something we don't want and will not associate ourselves with. Our whole reasoning for seeking out British assistance for our cause was to legitimise it. None of us want to see it become just another oppressed-minority-cum-terrorist-movement organisation. Let us endeavor, if at all possible, to keep the process on the right track."

Tony Blair, in many ways the consummate politician but, thankfully, a man of strong conviction and sense of moral dignity, nodded gently. "Amen to that, Lord Augustus. I've managed, in my time, to rely on faith, skill and a good measure of luck to sustain some rather controversial projects...but I've always pressed on with them because I thought they were right!" he lightly rapped the desk with his knuckles. "This cause is worthy of following. Your people are long-suffering and their condition in other countries--sadly, even the United States--is becoming more precarious by the year. We need this to be pushed through, gentlemen, and I aim to see it done. I cannot promise you the stars, friends, but I can promise you the full help of His Majesty's Government."

The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

We had found a believer.

*

"I tender my resignation from the faculty of

Boston University, effective immediately.

Post Scriptum: Perhaps I should've placed

a gold star on my sweater...then at least I

would've been reminded how 'enlightened',

'liberal', and 'sensitive' the present regime

is towards members of my genetic disposition."

excerpted from the resignation statement

of Dr. Malcolm MacLaughlin

Basle, Switzerland

March 6, 2008

Malcolm was a brilliant philologist, partly because of his natural talent at being able to expertly dissect languages with the ease that was positively uncanny. His mutation, moreover, was more than helpful in his life's work. He intuitively could understand the ebb and flow of logical patterns, making him perhaps the world's best cryptographer...and, not so coincidentally, philologist. We, however, found him useful in both realms...

I glanced down at the report he'd handed me, frowning. He absolutely insisted in writing it in Nova Canaanite, the language he'd created, one loosely based upon Chaldean with a flavour I recognised as Aramaic. The only problem was he'd, if anything, designed it to be even more complex than those dead tongues...which said much for the infernal deviousness of his mind. Simply looking at it gave me a headache and I am no lightweight when it came to the language department. "If you must write these reports in this confounded language of yours," I hissed, "at the very least supply me with the diacritical marks so that I can tell where the damned vowels are."

The Scots'-descended American lifted a bushy brow. "How are you going to learn, then? I'm trying to beef your vocabulary up--"

"Rubbish," I snorted. "You're confusing me. I'm looking at this and all I can see a linguistic panaroma; anything from Biblical Hebrew to Amharic and it's driving me insane," I groused, though truth to tell I needed the intellectual exercise. And, admittedly, if this were to become a lingua franca for our people world-wide...I'd better be fluent in it. Using its conventions to name my party isn't enough.

I ran my finger over the document from right to left, slowly translating it in my mind. It took a painstaking fifteen minutes to read something I should've been finished with fourteen minutes and forty seconds earlier. When I placed the report down, I was fuming. "So, now that you've succeeded in giving me a migraine, do you wish to explain to me why you're trying to stir up trouble for us when we're on the verge of success!" I slapped the report with the palm of my hand. "Tomorrow we head for Brussels, to brief those damned Eurocrats! We've finally gotten through those idiotic Gaullists in Paris and we're now ready to bring the whole EU-mandate proposal before the Union, itself. You'd have me endanger this whole endeavor? Are you out of your mind?!"

He shrugged. "Not exactly...but I'm not as enamoured with what you and Lord Augustus are doing in the first place. I'm here merely to warn you. I see this--" he patted the report "--as an opportunity to inform you that we're yoking our movement to a very dangerous ox here. Have you watched Blair's poll numbers lately?"

I scowled, visibly irritated. How dare he?! "No!"

"He's slipping. It's not that he's unpopular--far from it--it's more the voter fatigue factor. Eleven years in power and people are beginning to wonder if the alternative couldn't give them a better life. Lately--I'd say within the last generation--that's been the trend in Western-style democracies. 'What have you done for me lately?' It happened to Kohl in Germany, Klaus in the Czech Republic, Jospin in France...and, of course, the reformists in Russia. Chernomyrdon didn't have a chance in 2000."

"Somehow," I noted dryly, "I don't think Hague and his Tories are in any position to take advantage of any lethargy Labor may or may not engender in amongst the British people. He's all the personality of a rock."

Another shrug, something I was beginning to find increasingly annoying. That man... "Maybe so, but there's no guarantee that the Conservatives will keep Hague around as party leader. He's already lost them one election. Blood's in the water and those who're lining up to replace him are no friend to our brand of minority politics."

"And this?" I tapped the report. "You actually think Arthur Dent has a chance at becoming head of the Conservative Party?"

He nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. He's vocal, he's strident. He represents the old right wing of the Tories, the backbenchers--most of whom are in the Lords and not the Commons--who remember the Iron Lady. I'm not talking about Thatcherites here...but something a bit more to the right."

"The National Front in pinstripe suits, eh?" I frowned. "A British Ken Harrison."

"Precisely." He stroked his massive beard. "Look, for what it's worth, this isn't an isolated analysis. Since you put me charge of the Congress' Trends Analysis Committee, I've had the opportunity to initiate a few studies. The data's being massaged now but I can tell you that a backlash is building in the West. It's not along the traditional Right-Left lines, either; nor the internationalist-isolationist axis. It's got more of a nativist flavour to it all, though it's even a bit beyond that. All those debates over immigration policy over the last decade everywhere in the West has begun to sink in. Arguably, it caused the most recent changes in administration in both France and the US; the former when Algeria went bottom's up and the latter following the coup in Mexico City. When refugees--political or economic--come rushing across the border, all rationality goes through the window. The West has grown decadent, too appreciative of its own largesse. Anything that threatens that is reflexively hated."

"This nativist movement is so paranoid that it's beginning to view anything that smacks of 'un-us' as the enemy. We've seen what's happened, particularly in the States. The cantons are being systematically dismantled. The lynchings in New York and LA. Even small things, like editorials and articles in various nationwide newspapers, seem to be sliding towards an anti-mutant tinge."

I frowned. "How can you tell that? Develop prescience lately?"

Unruffled he held up his hand. "Look, today the headline is 'clashes in Central Park over mutant civil rights.' Next it's 'militant mutants demonstrate for special recognition'. Finally it's 'mutant rights activists threaten mass action; economists warn of a recession'. You tell me, Magnus. It doesn't take a weatherman to know which way the wind is blowing."

"Thank you, Bob Dylan," I replied dryly. "But what would you have us do? Even if you are correct--and I'm not unpersuaded by your arguments but the fact is we don't know with any degree of certainty how correct you are--where does that leave us? We play right into the extremists' hands if we attempt to intervene--"

"Who said anything about intervening?" he interrupted. "I'm talking about creating the Mutant National Home right here, right now! Why do we have to wait for the world to bless us first?!"

So...this was the true reason for this meeting, I thought. I allowed myself the luxury of a sigh. "You cannot possibly, after describing to me the delicate political ramifications of various electoral scenarios, expect me to believe you to be that obtuse, do you, Malcolm?" The man seemed genuinely flummoxed by my rebuff. "Don't be a fool. I know you to be much more intelligent than that. Any form of unilateralism will simply cause a backlash. With no kind of understanding between the surrounding nations, we'll likely to face an immediate economic boycott. Meanwhile, our erstwhile supporters will be embarrassed and our own people will be exposed to even more virulent anti-mutant prejudice, perhaps even government-organised pogroms."

MacLaughlin nervously crossed his arms, his face now a melange of frustration. "Aren't you being a little melodramatic and 'prescient', yourself? We don't have the foggiest idea what will happen if we move now...except that we might save a few lives, lives which would otherwise be lost whenever the mob gets testy in New York or where ever. Economic sanctions? Boycotts? You've got to be kidding me! Rhodesia survived fifteen years with nearly nothing! South Africa could've gone on ad infinitum! And let's not even talk about Iraq!" He flung his hands into the air. "And before you tell me that we're buying good will from the nations, let me suggest to you that no amount of good will is going to change genetics. We are and always will be apart from them. By succumbing to gradualism, all we do is place our welfare into the hands of the very people who, tomorrow or with a change in government, might decide that it's no longer in their nation's best interests to support our cause. You're making the same mistake the West made in the waning days of the Soviet Union: you're betting the farm on a single man. Then it was Gorbachev. Now it's Blair." He clenched his fists. "God help you if you're wrong, Magnus. All your politicking and diplomacy won't mean a damn if London gets cold feet. And by then it'll be too late for those who've died in the interim. Too late." Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked out, positively livid by the looks of it.

I brought a hand to my forehead and closed my strained eyes. Damn.

Damn, damn, damn, DAMN!!

*

Brussels, Belgium

March 10, 2008

"NO!!!" I screamed, wrenching myself out of the bed so fast the blood hit the back of my eyeballs, exploding in a cascade of lights. My heart hammered in my chest, sweat poured from my body, drenching my sheets. I could scarcely catch my breath. And when I inhaled, all I could smell was the sweet, sickly smell of...

"god no," I mumbled, my parched lips barely moving. Numb, damp fingers, shaking, found my forehead. Outside my closed eyelids, the first hints of morning began to creep. But behind them, all I saw was red...

A dream. Only a dream. Behind my trembling fingers I collected myself, trying to shake free from the cobwebs--the coils--of the night. Contemptuously, I wiped the grit from my eyes, my lips curled bitterly. I would never be free of these dreams. Never. So long as I live they will lurk inside me, poking through from the darkest recesses of my soul whenever I close my eyes.

It was a small miracle that I had not succumbed to madness by now.

I forced my legs out from beneath the sheet, placing them firmly on the shag carpeted floor. Gently, I separated my eyelids, greeting the morn's kiss. At my mental command, the curtains were swept aside and the window slid open. Warm sunlight spilled over my face; the cool, morning breeze caressed my skin. The night's protestations notwithstanding, today would be a glorious day. It had to be. If I had to grab it between my hands and throttle it, today would go well.

I inhaled sharply, trying desperately to clear the stench of last night from my lungs.

My brows met at the centre of my forehead, words from deep in the recesses of my mind spilling forth from my lips unexpectedly, almost reflexively. Suddenly, I was but a boy again... "Modeh ani le-fanecha, melech chai ve-ka'yam, she-hechezarta bi nishmati b'chemla, raba emunatecha," I whispered, almost as if embarrassed by this sudden expression of my youthful faith. I wiped the sweat from my face. Perhaps, in a way, it was fitting. Considering the contents of my dreams--my nightmares--perhaps thanking HaShem--or whatever might lay out there--for 'restoring me to life' is not so silly as it may initially sound.

Or, alternately, senility might finally be creeping up on me, I smiled to myself wanely.

The shower awaited...

...and behind me, the smells of stale sweat...

...and sizzling flesh.

THE HARRISON CANDIDACY

Sen. Kenneth Harrison, the
sole member of the chimerical
Nationalist Party in the US
Senate, announced early yester-
day that he was resigning his
seat--effective immediately--
to devote 100% of his time to
running for the White House.

For more than one reason, we
see this as an ominous event.

Originally a nativist disciple
of former GOP presidential can-
didate Pat Buchanan, Ken Harri-
son spent two terms in the House
before successfully claiming
the 'open' Senate seat he's now
giving up. During his tenure
he's been fixated on one, single
item: mutant-human relations.

If he were willing to see both
sides of the coin, we wouldn't
be concerned. Instead, Sen.
Harrison's first action as
a member of the upper house was
to introduce a bill to cut off
funding of the mutant cantons,
an action which, even if it had
passed, would have been blatantly
unconstitutional. This kind of
reckless disregard for our highest
body of law, however, didn't end
there.

Sensing an opening caused by the
vast media coverage he succeeded
in garnering, Sen. Harrison changed
tactics and instead spent most of
the remaining tenure finding
convoluted--one would almost, if
it weren't such a sad story, be
tempted to call them ingenious--
methods to starve the cantons
of federal funds and choke them
in a sea of Washington-enforced
regulations.

But the most troubling aspect of
the Harrison phenomena is that the
public has reacted with some degree
of sympathy for his actions. Almost
as if acting as a bellweather, the
nominally austere and dour Idahoan
has become a fiery, combative rhetor-
ician, filled with a degree of self-
righteousness and public support that
we find positively alarming.

The latest Mason-Dixon poll has
placed Harrison's standing at a
respectable 22%. This is not enough
to win the presidency--yet. But
with the Reform Party's perennial
candidate, Ross Perot, gravely ill
and no successor in sight, there is
a good chance Harrison will pick up
many a Reformist in his quest for
the White House. And with no apparent
competitors within his own, small party,
the now-ex senator can begin full-
boar campaigning while his adversaries
in the GOP and the Democratic Party
beat each other to a pulp as the
primary season unfolds.

But the most frightening statistic,
however, is this, taken from last
weeks USA Today/Washington Post poll.
Nearly forty percent--38.6% to be pre-
cise--of Americans surveyed think that
some kind of regulation on the use of
mutant and metahuman parabilities is
justified.

Someone, apparently, hasn't pointed
out the difficulty in 'regulating'
a part of one's anatomy.

A sad--and scary--day, indeed.

an editorial
The Washington Times
1 March, 2008