By Livia Cahill
He loved the planet so much, he surely did. When he’d signed the agreement with Tech Empire he hadn’t thought of that, just that it’d provide a leg up in their foreign policy and economic standing as a country. And that it’d provide some good jobs and also keep him in office and maybe even in favor. Besides, his cousin was connected with Tech Empire, not that anyone else knew about that. Still, he wanted to keep himself in favor with the people of Twitter, so he conveniently avoided the topic of his cousin and that side of his family in general.
“Mr.President, your private jet is ready for your trip.”
“Thank you, Teresa,” he said, waving his hand distractedly to tell her to leave. He didn’t look up from his massive piles of papers covered in legalese.
Private jets were his favorite mode of transportation. He flew at least once a week, getting his groceries from around the country and even the world if he had time. His favorite thing about being President was enjoying the full extent of that good old American freedom. He could play golf on lawns that used up a significant amount of the dwindling water supply and have someone do his work for him. Hell he could have someone read the dreaded papers out for him as he played.
“Mr.President.”
Teresa was still there. Shit.
“Yes, Teresa,” he said as politely as possible, finally looking up from his papers.
“You might want to visit the people sometime soon.”
“The people? What for?”
“They’re protesting.”
“They’re always protesting.”
“Have you been on Twitter in the past hour, Mr.President?”
“No, I’ve been working.” He wasn't lying… for once. Whatever, most important interactions between him and the people happened over Twitter.
“They’re flooding the streets, millions of them.”
“Again? Get my PR team for me, please.”
“I don’t think a tweet’s gonna—”
“—don’t worry, Teresa. I’ll handle it.”
Teresa held in her sigh. She’d gotten used to doing that.
Last time they protested his tweet had quelled them. Sure a few oil rigs were raided, but they were up and running and filling his coffers. So what if it polluted a few oceans and killed a few turtles who got in the way. That wasn’t his fault.
What would he Tweet next? How about: just signed a deal that will give us an upper hand in the global tech industry? No, that hadn’t worked the last time. He’ll just tweet his support and say he’ll do everything he can for the climate. Again. Like he always did. It’s why they voted for him, wasn’t it?
“Teresa!”
“Yes, Mr.President?”
“I don’t need the PR team. Besides, they won’t fit in the jet.”
“Are you sure? We can just—”
“We’re painting the White House green!”
“What?!”
“Yes, we’ll paint it green and oh! We’ll plant a Federal Garden for the people to enjoy!”
‘That sounds nice, but–”
“We’ll also paint the jet green. And have it say: President for the Earth. Yes, that'll do. Let Big Oil know that I can’t be seen with them in public but the deal they sent is on. Let’s go recycle! Do you think I can recycle my old private jet?”
Teresa just smiled and nodded as she slowly died inside.
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