Absolute power, like a slow-acting poison, changes everything. In the week after the National Recovery Act was passed, the new reality began to settle across Britain. It wasn't an explosive change, but a cold, creeping shift in the nation's foundations.
My first Executive Order was simple but brutal. Issued under the banner of "national security," it permanently expanded the powers of the Department of Immigration and National Security. Deportation was no longer just for illegal immigrants or criminals. Now, any non-citizen immigrant deemed a "threat to public order"—a deliberately vague term—could be detained indefinitely and deported without appeal.
Sir James Sterling, vested with near-limitless power, moved with the efficiency of a soldier. "The Purge," as he called it privately to me, began in earnest. Thousands were rounded up in predawn raids. It was no longer just gang members, but radical preachers, outspoken political activists, and anyone who had found their way onto an MI5 watchlist.
Kaelan Richards and the remnants of the opposition tried to fight back. They screamed in Parliament about "concentration camps" and "a secret police." But their voices were drowned out. I had created the perfect storm of fear, and in the middle of it, most of the British people preferred security to liberty. The media, terrified of being accused of being unpatriotic, largely just reported the official numbers.
My second Executive Order targeted the enemy within. Using the new laws, I froze the assets of organizations I designated as "enablers of domestic terrorism." This included several Muslim charities, anti-fascist groups, and even some of the more radical trade unions that had helped organize the "Day of Resistance." Without funding, they were crippled.
Blackwood was the architect behind this.
"We're not banning them." He explained to me.
"Banning creates martyrs. We're simply making it impossible for them to operate. We're starving them financially."
…
One evening, Blackwood came to my office with a single file. "There's a problem," he said. "Or rather, an opportunity."
"What is it?"
"The Lord Chief Justice, Sir Alan Fitzwilliam. He's privately informed the new Lord Chancellor that he plans to rule your first Executive Order unconstitutional. He's rallying support from the other senior judges. They're going to try to bring us down through the Supreme Court."
I leaned back in my chair. The politicians had been easy to handle. They were cowards and opportunists. The judges were a different problem. They believed in something bigger than themselves—the law.
"How long do we have?"
"A week, maybe. Two at most," Blackwood replied.
I looked at him. "You know what to do."
Blackwood didn't blink. He opened the file. Inside were photographs and transcripts. "Sir Alan Fitzwilliam has certain… proclivities unbecoming of his office. He is a frequent visitor of a young 'massage therapist' in Mayfair. An illegal immigrant from Romania, ironically enough."
I felt a wave of disgust and… admiration. Blackwood was the perfect monster for my new world.
"Make sure he understands his options," I said coldly. "A quiet retirement with his honor intact, or public humiliation and total ruin. Give him twenty-four hours to decide."
Two days later, Buckingham Palace announced, "with deep regret," the early retirement of the Lord Chief Justice due to "ill health." His replacement, "advised" by my office, was a far more… pragmatic judge.
The judicial resistance had been broken before it even began.
…
With the domestic front largely secured, I turned my attention outward. I needed allies. Not friends, but partners in pragmatism.
I made my first call to Moscow. The conversation with the Russian President was short and direct.
"Mr. President," I said, dispensing with formalities, "we both face the same problems. Islamist extremism within our borders and an American-led liberal order that seeks to dictate our policies."
"A keen observation, Mr. Prime Minister," the deep, slightly amused voice replied.
"I propose closer intelligence sharing on counter-terrorism matters. And a tacit understanding. Britain will no longer meddle in what you consider your 'sphere of influence'. In return, Russia will recognize British interests in certain areas."
"What kind of areas?"
"Africa," I said without hesitation. "Resource-rich and government-poor. A vacuum to be filled."
There was a pause. "You are a very clear-spoken man, Mr. Einstein. I appreciate that. Let us talk more."
My second call was to Beijing. The tone was different, more formal and circuitous, but the message was the same. I offered freer trade, easier access to London's financial markets. In return, I asked for only one thing: that China use its considerable influence at the UN to veto any attempt at sanctions or investigations into my domestic policies.
"Internal stability is the prerogative of every sovereign nation," the Chinese leader said, a statement that was a veiled agreement.
America and Europe could scream all they wanted. I was building a new network of power, based not on shared values, but on shared interests and a shared contempt for the old order.
…
One night, while reviewing the daily briefs, I found something odd. A footnote in an MI5 intelligence report.
"Increased communications traffic between Kaelan Richards's office and an attaché at the American Embassy."
I summoned Blackwood. "Find out about this. I want to know everything they're talking about."
Two days later, he returned. His face was graver than usual.
"It's worse than we thought, Prime Minister," he said. "Richards isn't just complaining. He's actively soliciting support. Financial aid for the opposition, diplomatic pressure… and he's been feeding them information. Police patrol schedules in minority neighborhoods, names of sympathetic civil servants. He's committing treason."
A cold rage washed over me. I had defeated Richards in politics. Now, he had crossed the line into treachery.
"He just signed his own death warrant," I whispered.
The System flickered in my mind, as if sensing my bloodlust.
Threat Detected: Foreign Collusion.
New Task Accepted: Eliminate the Internal Opposition.
Description: Use any and all means necessary to neutralize the leader of the opposition and destroy his ability to challenge your regime.
Reward: Full loyalty of the domestic intelligence service (MI5).
"We can't just arrest him," Blackwood said, pulling me from my thoughts. "It would make him a martyr. It would prove everything he's been saying about us."
"I didn't say we were going to arrest him," I replied. I stared out the window into the dark London night. "People have accidents all the time, Simon. Tragic, unfortunate accidents."