The American Spectator

“Is there anybody left in this country who hasn’t found some Indian blood in him?” said General Borland to no one in particular.

“I beg your pardon,” Ward seethed. “We Polynesians are not Indians, as you call them. We migrated from the Marquesas Islands, not across the Bering Strait. I consider it very racist that you cannot make that distinction.”

“Well, let’s see how the Chinese take to all that,” interrupted Federer. “Have you ever had contact with the Chinese?”

“The Chinese government is the same capitalist, imperialist machine as the United States government.” Ward fairly spit out the words. “We will have nothing to do with them.”

“Have any of your Polynesian members had contact?” he pursued.

“This man has nothing to do with Polynesians,” shouted Mayor Garawalawall, rising from his chair again. “He represents only himself.”

Federer glanced at Schoonmaker. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough of this,” said the General, rising. “Guards, take both these men outside.”

“No, it is important I be here,” wailed the Mayor, turning to Federer for help.

“Alright, let him stay,” said Federer.

“Long Live the People’s Republic of Polynesia!” shouted Ward as the guards escorted him outside. “Free Hawaii from American Occupation!”

Federer felt his heart wrenching in anguish. How had America become such a seething cauldron of hatreds, he wondered. He sensed the same sentiment floating around the room. There was nothing to do but to plow forward.

“Ms. Slocum, you were saying something,” he began again.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” said the Undersecretary. “You know, I feel a tremendous sense of tension in this room. I’d like to have everyone relax for a moment. Let’s everyone close their eyes and take a deep breath.” Federer looked around the room and was amazed to see pairs of eyes closing. “That’s it,” said Slocum, her voice descending to a reassuring murmur. “Now exhale very slowly, making a hissing sound.” She hissed for example. “Visualize that breath as it leaves your body. Now take another. Just relax your mind. Think of waterfalls in the woods.” There was a sound at the door. Federer peeked and saw an aide thrust his head in, then disappear. He could hardly believe four-star generals were submitting to this.

“That’s it,” continued Slocum. “Nice thoughts. Now take the hand of the person sitting next to you.” There was a rustle of dissent around the room but in a moment Federer felt the meaty hand of General Schoonmaker fumbling for his own. He felt a huge hollowing in his stomach as his hand nestled into the General’s large mitt. On the other side of him, General Borlander did not seem to be participating.

“There, isn’t that better?” said Slocum, suddenly returning to the moment. Federer actually felt much worse but said nothing. “Now I want to convey a message from President Armageddon,” continued the Undersecretary. “There is to be absolutely no thought of retaliation. We’re pursuing the Gandhi approach — passive resistance. Violence only leads to more violence and the stakes are too high. We want everyone to disengage from such thoughts.”