Lenwa and the Pandahead

LENWA AND THE PANDAHEAD

by

Relendra

~~~~~

The Second of Three Volumes in

THE PANDASTAN TRILOGY

~~~~~

PART I: PANDASTAN

PART II: LENWA AND THE PANDAHEAD

PART III: GOOD SENSE PANDA

~~~~~

Lenwa and the Pandahead is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book take place in a dimension of the imagination. They do not correspond to people or events from our own physical dimension.

Copyright 2013, 2014, 2022 by Relendra Raelle Kaia

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Published by Aphana Arts

Portland, Oregon, USA

Cover art and maps by Relendra

Lyrics from We Should Bump copyright 2011 by Relendra Raelle Kaia

Sections included from Good Sense Panda copyright 2014, 2015 by Relendra Raelle Kaia

Third Smashwords Edition: October 2022

for Gaia

CONTENTS

Synopsis

zero

1. Rapprochement

2. In

3. Mental Discipline

4. Pilgrimage

5. Velopment

6. Bamboo Tea

7. The Argot Device

8. Chilly War

9. The Adler Doctrine

10. Lenwa

11. The Pandahead

12. Empress on High

13. Pillow Talk

14. The Evolution Device

15. Winners

16. The Equivalence Device

17. Maiyen

18. Gonani Umampha

19. Love

Glossary

Maps

About the Author

A Note from Relendra

Good Sense Panda – (Preview)

– Take It and Put It

– The Chronos Device

– The Machine

– Just Around

SYNOPSIS

Lenwa and the Pandahead is the second of three parts in the Pandastan Trilogy.

The first part, Pandastan, told of a group of highly evolved pandas who appeared on the world stage with the power to overthrow armies, traverse any distance instantly, and communicate in all languages at once. After the pandas declared their intention to bring the world economy to a state of negative growth, the human governments of the United Nations, led by US President John Gripp, declared a global War on Pandas, uniting to contain or destroy these frightening and previously unknown creatures.

One component of President Gripp’s War on Pandas was the creation of the EJJ, the Extra-Judicial Judiciary, a secret court system designed to imprison pandas and other declared enemies of the president without regard for due process. Pandastan told how Dramedy Carver, a disgruntled American court clerk, was offered a position in the EJJ by the mysterious Eli Winters, revealed as an agent of the shadowy transnational organization known as the Concern. Against the advice of her friend and housemate Candy, Dramedy accepted the offer and soon found herself mired in a series of intrigues involving the Concern and the US government. Having recruited Dramedy as an agent of the Concern against her will, Eli assigned her to spy on a panda named Adler, held prisoner by the United States in the EJJ system. Dramedy agreed to meet with the panda, but not as a spy; she disclosed the full nature of her assignment to Adler, and the two become fast friends.

Pandastan also told of the adventures of Jack Marion and Carrie Hunter, American Peace Trade volunteers in the country of Malawi. After a romance blossomed between them one fateful night, the two lovers boarded a plane to India together, only to become captives of panda hijackers. Having conquered the entire region of Kashmir overnight, the pandas landed their plane high in the Hindu Kush Mountains, in the newly declared independent state of Pandastan. There, Jack and Carrie met the pandas Dervish and Fez, who offered to enlist them as emissaries to America, hoping to improve relations between Pandastan and the United States. The pandas revealed their goal of reducing human growth rates in economic activity, resource development, and ecological impact in service of their last, desperate hope—that planetary disaster could still be prevented.

The pandas instructed Dramedy, Jack, and Carrie in new aspects of reality that exist outside the physical laws we are familiar with. These include the mental plane, by which the pandas were able to manipulate matter using their force fields; it is also the plane of existence that houses Otch, a connecting social entity used by the pandas to communicate, access information, and store information for later. In addition, the humans learned of the ancient lore of Pandastan, including the tale of the great panda leader, Heva, who opened a portal on the living dimension by which spirits known as the loka entered into the Earth. The loka were powerful but insatiable beings that merged with one part of the ancient pandas, creating the race of Lokapandas. The Lokapandas sought ultimate power and fought a war against the Panda Faithful known as the Great Conflict, in which the Lokapandas were defeated. But the pandas believed the spirits of the loka endured, merging with the human race, where they continued to foster an endless lust for power and expansion.

Meanwhile, in Washington DC, President Gripp helplessly watched the rise of the pandas and became plagued by nightmares and dark waking visions of his foes. The president descended into madness and became manipulated by his advisors, who hoped to exploit his weakness and consolidate power by doing so. After telling Gripp his madness was actually the result of messages from God, his advisors lost control of the president, who conflated the concept of God with that of the Market, the economic precept that dictated his administration’s policies. After Pandastan declared independence, Gripp responded by ordering a nuclear strike against the pandas, and his advisors were unable to dissuade him.

Playing both sides against each other, Eli Winters had already informed Dramedy of the impending attack. He helped her escape to Pandastan with Adler to sound the alarm, but he simultaneously planted a tracking device on Adler to guide the missiles to their precise target. Heeding Dramedy’s warning upon her arrival in Pandastan, the High Panda Council was able to implement the Destiny Device, an innovation of the pandas that prevents nuclear bombs from exploding. The Destiny Device worked, and nuclear conflict was averted.

Pandastan ended with Gripp’s decision to plunge America into dictatorship, spurred on by his advisors and by instructions from the Market, a voice that began addressing Gripp directly during prayer. Dramedy retired safely to Pandastan and there befriended Jack and Carrie, who agreed to accept the pandas’ offer to help mend fences between Pandastan and the United States. Lenwa and the Pandahead now tells the second part of the story—how Dramedy, Jack, and Carrie chose to meet the challenges of their uncertain future, including the impossible task of reconciling with President Gripp, now firmly established as American dictator and chief prophet of Marketism, the state-sanctioned religion. It also tells of Pandastan’s ongoing struggle to accomplish their goal of saving the planet from destruction, hindered by Gripp’s resurgent opposition and by a new global threat: a secret conspiracy to achieve world domination that would alter the very nature of humanity itself.

LENWA AND THE PANDAHEAD

Look, don’t try to force it. Just relax. Be open to the energy.

Dramedy fidgeted stubbornly. How can I relax when you keep telling me I’m doing it wrong? she complained.

Adler nodded but did not reply. Her inscrutable panda features revealed nothing.

Well? prompted Dramedy.

Let your questions drop off, said Adler. Just sit with it. Don’t worry about how this will work, or whether it will work. Just sit and enjoy.

That was probably good advice. They were seated on one of the beautiful terraces perched atop the city of Pandalama, deep in the majestic Hindu Kush Mountains. Dramedy had no job to worry about and no bills to pay. She had nothing but time to appreciate the wonder and beauty of the world. She also had Adler with her, and she and the panda had grown very close over the past few months. With them sat a panda named Jarrah. He was a respected seer in Pandastan who had joined them to help channel their mental energy—and perhaps divine the future.

The pathways are open between you and Otch, said Jarrah, and the doors to the living dimension are also at hand. The relendra between you is vibrant and strong. Maintain yourselves. I’m ready to begin.

Dramedy closed her eyes and concentrated on her instructions, drawing from her training in mental discipline. She was to keep both her mind and her heart open, but focus her heart while holding her mind in an unfocused state. The forces of her mind and heart would then be projected outward like stretched beams, blending together and dispersing above and around her body.

Forms and shapes suggest themselves to me, said Jarrah. Otch presents many possible roads, and the living dimension informs them. He fell silent for some time. Dramedy continued sitting in her state of unfocused focus. She listened to the wind. She felt herself breathe.

I see two people, said Jarrah. Two humans. Their focus is on you, Dramedy. They will seek you out. They are seeking even now. They are coming.

This sounded ominous.

What do you mean? Dramedy asked. What should I do? She opened her eyes and saw that Adler and Jarrah were both quietly observing her.

Jarrah held up a paw in a calming gesture. They don’t seek to harm you, he said, but they want you. They have strong needs. It is your vitality they seek—your energy. You must choose how to spend what is given you.

A sudden gust of wind blew Dramedy’s hair across her face, overwhelming her with a sensation of nervous excitement. She pushed her hair back behind her ears as the wind subsided.

How should I choose, Jarrah? she asked. What’s going to happen to me?

Intain, Jarrah said. Observe the path laid out for you and then take it.

Intain? asked Dramedy. What do you mean, intain?

I mean choose with your being, said Jarrah.

I don’t understand.

Hmm… Maybe you’re familiar with the phrase ‘choose with your heart?’ That’s close to what I’m getting at. Jarrah glanced sharply at Adler. Haven’t you explained intainment to her yet?

No… Adler said. That’s not really my forte. Yenna is so hard to describe in words.

Jarrah turned back to Dramedy and studied her. Adler does make a good point, he said. Most of the time words only get in the way.

Well, tell me something, said Dramedy. I’m getting confused.

All right. Just know this: It’s enough to feel your path beneath your feet with every step you take. Embrace your path with all your heart, but know your heart will be put to the test. Let it be tested. Let your fear pass through you. Carry it with you if it will not pass. Offer comfort to your fear, but don’t let it rule you.

Dramedy closed her eyes again. She felt a fear rising inside her, and she focused on letting it go. She imagined the fear rushing through her like the wind and the air she breathed. The fear was willing to depart. She calmed herself.

What else do you see? asked Adler.

…I see two people, said Jarrah. Two souls divided against each other. Where once there was harmony, now discord rules. They will suffer greatly.

The same people? asked Dramedy. Who are they?

Jarrah’s voice wavered. Difficult to tell… he said haltingly. There are several people, many divisions. I see two people… Two people are coming. Jarrah spoke no more.

Even as his words faded away, a soft crunch of footsteps began to sound in the distance behind them. Dramedy tried to ignore it and stay focused on Jarrah’s words. The footsteps continued growing louder until they reached the terrace itself. Dramedy turned around and saw her only human neighbors, Carrie and Jack, ascend to the terrace from the connecting pathway below.

I hope we’re not interrupting anything, said Carrie. I’m here to round up Dramedy for our mental discipline class.

Dramedy looked to the pandas. Adler and Jarrah exchanged glances before looking back to her.

We’re just finishing up, said Adler. There will be no more visions.

Visions? said Carrie, frowning.

You mean like telling the future? asked Jack. His manner was cavalier, but a glint of interest shone in his eyes. I hope it’s good news.

I’m not sure… said Dramedy. There was an awful lot about disharmony—two people losing their connection or bond to each other. Was I hearing that right, Adler?

There were certainly words to that effect, Adler said, and it troubles me. But there were also strong words of hope and destiny. The message is unclear.

Jack slipped his hand around Carrie’s waist and kissed her cheek. I’ll take the hope and destiny, he said. What do you think, Carrie?

Carrie looked up at him and smiled. What do you think I think?

Jack furrowed his brow. I’m not always sure, he said. Why don’t you tell me?

Carrie kept smiling, but she shook her head gently. Then she spotted something near the edge of the terrace and turned away. She walked a few steps and stooped to the ground to pick up a stone. It was reddish-brown and dusty, but Carrie polished it on the sleeve of her jacket and held it up to the light. Suddenly it gleamed with a luminous red essence.

Carrie walked back to Jack and draped her arms around his shoulders, hoisting herself upward to kiss him on the lips. Then she fell back to a standing position and pressed the red stone into his hand.

Here’s what I think, she said. I think you should keep this stone. Anytime you get to wondering about what’s on my mind, just hold it and remember how I feel about you. Don’t worry about a thing. She lowered her arms down to encircle his waist and hugged him warmly.

All right, you two, said Dramedy, rolling her eyes. Have some pity for the human on the terrace who’s still single.

Sorry, Dramedy, said Jack. But his eyes smiled with joy. You’ll find someone soon. I’m sure of it.

Really? How’s that going to happen? Dramedy gestured around at the isolated precipice. My dating prospects in Pandalama aren’t exactly encouraging.

Adler interrupted them. I’ve just gotten a message from Fez, she said. Mental discipline lessons will have to be delayed. She’s summoning all three of you to a meeting.

Why? What’s going on? asked Carrie.

There’s finally been a breakthrough in relations with the United States, said Adler. A diplomatic mission is on its way to Gilgit to meet with us.

Dramedy was excited by the news, but also apprehensive. She tried to remember Jarrah’s words from just a few minutes before; everything seemed jumbled and confused. She couldn’t concentrate.

Dramedy took a deep breath and stood up. Huh. Well, I don’t know what to make of it all. But I guess we’d better go meet with Fez and see what she has to say.

Adler also stood up. I hope you got something out of our time with Jarrah today, she said.

I’m not really sure, said Dramedy. You know I’m a skeptic.

I know, said Adler. But please humor me and stay open to it just the same.

I will, Dramedy promised. And thank you for working with us, Jarrah, she said, turning to the other panda.

The visionary bear remained seated as the others left the terrace. You’re welcome, he said. Choose with your heart, Dramedy. Even if it leads you to foolish places. There’s a time when all of us are meant to play the fool.

Dramedy didn’t like the sound of that. She hoped her heart would be a little wiser than what Jarrah was predicting. She bid farewell to the panda with a wave of her arm and a conflicted smile. Then Dramedy turned to follow her friends, stepping onto the path that led to her future below.

RAPPROCHEMENT

By dog-diggity, but it’s good to be back home!

President Gripp glanced at his advisors to gauge their reactions. He knew they didn’t really agree with him on this point. His chief of staff, Dick Razor, was a born Washington politico. To him, Friendsville probably seemed about as remote as Patagonia. Iron Fielding, the nation’s panda czar, doubtless felt the same way. Both men managed weak smiles in support of Gripp’s statement.

Gripp didn’t care what they thought. Washington carried too many bad memories for him. He needed a fresh start, and all his associations from Temporaneous were positive. Gripp had served for eight shining years in Friendsville as the state’s governor prior to ascending to the presidency. Moving the nation’s capital here seemed like a great way to recapture the bygone joys of that era. And now that Gripp was dictator, he could do whatever he wanted.

He had completed the move just a few days ago, and the transition had been both simple and smooth. He owed it all to Razor for proposing that he seize dictatorial power. That made just about every aspect of his job easier. Gripp also had the Market to thank. He was unsure if he would have found enough courage to go through with the power grab had the Market not commanded it.

Gripp leaned back in his chair and gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the Tumperaw River roll past the edge of downtown Friendsville below him. His new presidential mansion was fairly functional and ordinary—a far cry from the splendor of the White House—but Gripp thought the view made up for it. Perched atop a hill close to the Friendsville business district, the mansion’s windows displayed the sprawling majesty of the American Breadbasket. The sight of it comforted Gripp. He was back in the real heart of America: back with his people again.

A knock came at the door and Razor opened it, ushering Reverend Babbitt inside. As the administration’s chief spiritual authority, Babbitt’s presence was essential for today’s meeting.

Good to see you, Babs, said Gripp. How’s tricks down at the temple?

It couldn’t be better, Mr. President, beamed Babbitt. In contrast to Razor and Fielding, Babbitt had been happy to leave Washington behind. He was a native Temporanean like Gripp, and returning to Friendsville put him back in touch with his original parishioners.

The First Temple of the Market will officially open its doors on Sunday, Babbitt continued. It looks as though Marketism is off to a brilliant debut.

Reverend Babbitt had returned to Friendsville several weeks before the rest of Gripp’s administration, using that time to convert followers of his own Market-based Christianity into the first congregation of Marketism. Babbitt intended for Marketism to signify a bold leap forward in the evolution of Christianity. It identified worship of the Market and obedience to its earnings reports as the only surefire way to stay in God’s good graces. With President Gripp as his first high-profile convert, Babbitt was sure Sunday’s sermon would be a rousing success.

That’s fantastic, Babsy, it surely is, said Gripp warmly. I’ll be there on Sunday, as bright and early as you could bet. But right now, I want to get down to tacking some brass. Gripp stood up and clasped his hands behind his back as he addressed the room.

Folks, he said, It’s official now. We’ve set up shop here in Friendsville, and I mean to stay here for good. I just want to take a few minutes with you today to review our position—make sure we get off on the right foot. Dickie Boy, could you start ’er off for us?

Certainly, Mr. President, said Razor. Well, first of all, the process of relocating the White House governing apparatus is entirely finished. Although most governmental operations still remain in Washington, the presidential mansion here in Friendsville is fully functional. Congress and the Supreme Court will require several more months to transition, but those branches of government are mere ornaments in the new America. You are the seat of power, and because you are here, the capital is here.

And what about the public response? Gripp asked.

"The public is with you, sir. They’ve accepted the story you laid out for them: Washington DC is so infested with East Coast anti-Americanism, the capital could not remain there. It’s only here in the Heartland that the antiterror effort can succeed. Your approval ratings are still above ninety percent, and our message has not wavered.

We’ve got a lot to be proud of. The public is utterly terrified of the terrorist conspiracy deep at the core of the Washington establishment. They now believe in a conspiracy insidious enough to have breached the ultimate barrier, launching America’s nuclear weapons against your will. Although Pandastan was somehow able to stop those weapons from functioning, the public is still anxious. They’re scared stiff by these creatures, and they wonder what else they are capable of.

We’ve also worked out a repetitive news cycle to wear down the public’s ability to resist our directives, added Fielding. "Fresh waves of trauma are imposed on them every few weeks. That keeps them weak, terrified, and eager for leadership. All we have to do is put you on TV to announce the latest revelations of newly discovered terrorist plots. Then we follow up with a new round of security crackdowns and arrests, together with signed confessions and executions.

The more extraordinary your measures become, the more they cement your hold on power. Each new prominent execution scars the American public a little more deeply. Terror becomes so heavily ingrained in their psyches, they soon find it normal to fear their government as much as they still fear pandas and terrorist conspiracies.

You’ve done a stellar job, Mr. President, said Razor. You’ve successfully explained to the people how the terrorists have cells in every branch of government—how the existence of such a gigantic conspiracy requires a full suspension of civil liberties. Americans don’t hold you responsible for failing to protect them. They hold the weaknesses of democracy responsible, and they’re more than happy to bid farewell to it. Remember the adulation you received last week when you canceled this year’s general elections?

Gripp glowed with satisfaction as he recalled the glittering press reviews. All the important news outlets had hailed Gripp as the leader America needed. Of course, the press was now directly controlled by Iron Fielding, but that wasn’t important. The important thing was that the people believed in him. Sometimes the people just needed a little push to help them figure out what they believed.

It’s really worked out great, hasn’t it? mused Gripp. Now tell me, Ronnie, how’s your Panda Police program going? They’re the ones that’ll have to keep the people in line if they change their minds about what we’re doing here.

Yes, sir, said Fielding. My staff has finished drafting the I Love America Act. We’ll force Congress into an up-or-down vote on it next week. But there’s no question about whether it will pass. Anyone who votes against it clearly hates America and wants the terrorists to win. Besides, I’ll just have the Panda Police arrest them if they vote no.

Right, right, said Gripp. Can you run through the provisions of the bill one more time for me?

Certainly, Mr. President. The act expands my authority as panda czar, granting me sole control over the newly created Department of Pandas. This department will encompass the Panda Police, the EJJ, and the Environmental Destruction Agency while overseeing the nation’s major media outlets. The enforcement power of the department is vested in the Panda Police, who have the authority to seize property and make arrests as they see fit. All arrests and legal challenges to government action will be funneled through the EJJ court system. Actually, the I Love America Act simply streamlines changes in the bureaucracy that have already taken place under my direction.

Streamline. Gripp loved the sound of that word. It was so neat and clean. He loved how smoothly the government was running now that Fielding and Razor were helping him streamline it. Governance used to be so messy and complicated. Sometimes the new order seemed too good to be true.

That’s super, Ronnie, said Gripp. And I think that about sums up where we’re at. But I want to be sure we’re not getting too confident. After all, the story we’re telling about this terrorist conspiracy isn’t exactly a hundred percent true.

"It’s one hundred percent untrue," clarified Razor.

That’s what I mean. Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna catch wind of that?

We’ve taken precautions, sir, said Fielding. I have direct control of the media now, remember? Anyone who doubts the existence of the terrorist conspiracy is denounced as a conspiracy theorist. They don’t have a chance.

People would go along with us even if we didn’t control the media, added Razor. "Americans are basically faced with a choice between two frightening alternatives: a terrorist network that exists within the government, or a government corrupt enough to consolidate power by fabricating its existence. In the end, it’s more comforting for them to believe in the terrorists. That’s an enemy that can still be beaten. But if they choose to see us as the enemy, they’ll have to face the fact that they’ve already lost. We hold the power."

And anyway, Babbitt chimed in, I think Americans realize we’re not their enemies, even if we do have to lie to them a little. The larger truth is still intact: America is full of people who oppose the Market. That makes them no better than terrorists, even if they haven’t acted on their feelings yet. Our actions are justified because we love America and the Market. We must protect them.

Babbitt’s explanation was almost exactly the same one Gripp had heard from the Market directly. He spoke to the Market almost every week to make sure he was getting things right. The Market had told him the dictatorship was necessary to root out and punish the unbelievers. Hordes of Market Enemies were running loose in America, and democratic measures were simply too weak to combat them.

Now you’ve hit on it, Babs, said Gripp. That’s what this is really all about as far as I’m concerned. We’ve got to bring the Market to the people! There’s so many poor, ignorant saps out there who don’t know the first thing about the plans the Market has for our lives.

Gripp was getting excited now. He loved talking about the Market. The Market loves all of us, he said, beginning to pace around the room. "Except for those down and dirty, rat-poked, jelly-jiggered Enemies out there, he said, correcting himself. And we’ve gotta dust off our Dutch ovens and help the Market cook their gooses good!"

Well said, sir! remarked Babbitt. We’re off to quite a fine start. Now that you’ve founded the Marketist Party in the political arena, it won’t be long before every major politician in the country declares themselves a member. With Marketism taking off as a religion here in Friendsville, the whole country will soon be ready to embrace the economic freedom and moral virtues the Market provides.

Moved by tremendous joy, Gripp leapt atop the seat of his desk chair. Oh my yes, Babsy! he laughed. We’re gonna do it!

Gripp looked down at his three advisors. They seemed somewhat uncomfortable with his acrobatics. Maybe jumping on the chair was a little too enthusiastic after all.

Babbitt swiftly regained his supportive demeanor. He spoke to Gripp tenderly. It gladdens my heart to see the spirit of the Market move you so boisterously, he said.

Gripp chuckled softly, attempting to keep his dignity intact while dismounting the chair. I’m glad too, he said, getting serious again. But even though things are looking good for America, I’ve been thinking lately about all those Market Enemies in the rest of the world. Especially… Gripp faltered as he searched for the strength to name his greatest fear. "…The pandas, he finished, almost in a whisper. What are we gonna do about them?"

Razor breathed in heavily. You may not like it, Mr. President, but I believe it must be done.

What? What must be done?

Rapprochement, said Razor.

Ra-proshe-mon? Gripp repeated. You mean the video game?

Sir?

Sure, and there was a TV series a few years back, too. Japanese, if I remember. By jiminy, but my kids went wild for those little cartoon critters. They were just guns and goat necks for all them Peek-at-yous and Jingledy-poofs till I thought it would drive me straight to an early grave—all the crazy noises those animals made. Squawking and hollering… What does all that have to do with pandas?

Razor sighed, drawing from the deep wells of patience he reserved for his talks with the president. Rapprochement isn’t a children’s television show, he explained. And it’s not a video game, either.

Are you sure? Gripp asked. "I remember what they used to say: ‘Peacha! Peacha! Coo! Coo!’ And something about saving the world from devastation. I always liked that part—’cause that’s what I do."

Forget about that cartoon. This is something different: Trust me on this. Rapprochement is a French word. It’s diplomatic. It means we lay off of the pandas for a while. We play nice.

Gripp scowled and turned a wary eye towards Razor. You weren’t kidding, Dickie Boy, he said. I don’t like the sound of that—not one little bit.

We’ve got more than just the pandas to worry about right now, said Fielding. The rest of the world wasn’t very happy with the way your little nuclear adventure turned out.

How do you mean? asked Gripp defensively. We blamed it on the terrorists.

Sure, but not everyone believes that story outside the US, said Razor. We don’t control the media in other countries. To a lot of people, America doesn’t look like a stable world leader anymore. Our assault on democracy at home hasn’t helped our image either. The foundations of trust between the nuclear powers have suffered severe blows. We need to build that trust back up and make America respectable again.

What does that have to do with the pandas? Gripp asked sourly.

There’ve been a lot of hurt feelings and pointed fingers going around, said Fielding. The nuclear disaster would have destroyed civilization if it hadn’t been for the pandas. Most countries in the world are grateful—they want to mend fences with Pandastan. And since America was the primary belligerent in the War on Pandas, it’s our duty to lead the way.

That’s correct, agreed Razor. The United States needs to prove that it’s a reasonable power—a power that would never have deliberately ordered an unprovoked nuclear strike. A power that would never wipe away centuries of democratic tradition unless it were absolutely necessary.

And how do you think you can prove that?

We’ll start with a small but meaningful gesture, replied Razor. I think we should send a diplomatic mission to Pandastan. After all, they saved the entire world from destruction just three months ago. It looks suspicious for us to remain openly hostile, especially since Pandastan was the country our missiles initially targeted.

You know how I feel about pandas, Gripp said, glowering at his advisors.

I know sir, but it’s such a small step, persisted Razor. It’s a token of our goodwill—a sop to all the nations who aren’t sure what to make of the new America yet.

Gripp’s mood had begun to tumble as soon as the topic of pandas first entered the discussion. As joyful as he had been, he was just as sullen now. He deeply resented foreign nations pressuring him to deal with those treacherous bears. If only he were dictator of the whole world instead of just America.

I don’t know, he said. I suppose we could give it a try… but only if the Market doesn’t object.

I’m sure the Market will approve, Mr. President, said Babbitt. Just trust us and pray. Prayers can’t go wrong.

Babbitt was right. Gripp’s advisors knew what they were doing. The Market would warn him if they veered astray.

Okay, Babs. Why don’t we start right now? suggested Gripp. I’d feel better if this whole… rappa… rappa-proshemon thing was kicked off with a proper blessing or two.

Splendid idea, sir! Just give me a moment to prepare.

Gripp turned back to Razor. How much time will it take to dispatch the mission? he asked.

Not long, sir. We can organize the whole thing in only a few weeks. We just need to select the right team of people.

Babbitt held up his hands, signaling that he was ready to commence. All the men in the room bowed their heads.

Glory to God, and blessed be the Market, began Babbitt. "May we choose wisely in selecting brave warriors to venture into that land of eternal night, wherein multitudes of pandas do lurk and slink, bereft of sound investment strategies. In your unceasing struggle against the forces of wealth redistribution, may the unclean bears not sully our righteousness.

"And may inflation rates dwindle, so as not to diminish the strength of compound interest, and may the profits of creditors soar to the heavens. May the enemies of your eternal marketplace wither and crumble to dust. Yea, verily and forsooth, we shall rejoice on that day. But on this day, let us receive your blessings that our works shall not fail, and that all profits shall flow thus unto your heavenly coffers. Thy will be done here as it is there. Amen."

Gripp raised his head, satisfied. It was a good prayer. Whatever tricks the pandas might try to pull would never be enough; Gripp was backed up by the greatest trickster the world had ever known.

The Market was on his side.

IN

From the moment President Gripp announced his decision to move the nation’s capital to Friendsville, flocks of people and institutions began flooding the city. Everyone was eager for presidential access, especially now that all governmental decisions flowed directly from the executive. Rents rose through the roof as people scrambled for apartments, houses, and office space. The onetime sleepy town now bustled with excitement and activity.

The influx of people into Friendsville created a business boom at the Stubbs coffee shop where Candy worked. She was happy to take on the heavier workload for the moment. It helped keep her mind off the disturbing changes she had noticed in the attitudes of the people around her. Everyone seemed to accept Gripp’s burgeoning dictatorship as if it were their patriotic duty. It was common to hear people talk about the need to support the president in these difficult times. Challenges to such sentiments were taboo.

Candy thought about Dramedy frequently during this time, wondering where in the world she was living and whether she was happy. It was over three months since Dramedy had accepted a posting as a court clerk in a secret government prison, and Candy hadn’t heard a word from her since. She hoped Dramedy was safe from the terrorist conspiracy that had turned the country upside down. Every week there was another news story about the latest terrorist attack against soldiers or government agents. All Candy could do was keep her head down and continue preparing americanos and mocha lattes, wondering how long it would be before she heard from Dramedy again.

She originally met Dramedy by posting an online ad for a roommate several years ago; Dramedy was her favorite of the people who responded. Although she had often been negative and temperamental, Dramedy was also amusing and interesting—or at least Candy thought so. Besides that, she felt a connection with Dramedy right from the start that she couldn’t quite explain. But Dramedy was often lost in her own head, and Candy sometimes wondered if Dramedy felt the connection between them the same way she did. Even now, Candy was unsure whether Dramedy would ever bother to contact her again or whether she would just drift out of her life entirely.

I want a large peppermint mocha with whole milk, half-and-half, with two pumps of caramel and nutmeg, said a customer.

The train of ridiculous coffee drinks never stopped.

What do you mean, ‘whole milk, half-and-half?’ asked Candy.

What do you think I mean? I want whole milk and half decaf, half regular espresso. Jesus Christ!

Oh. We usually call that half-caf.

Can you just make the goddamned drink?

Candy had grown weary of Stubbs customers a long time ago. She hoped this guy wanted a twenty-ounce alto-sized drink, because that’s what he was getting. Stubbs used fancy Italian words for their drink sizes. This was supposed to make the coffee chain unique, but it really just confused people. Sometimes when they said large they wanted a sixteen ounce largo, but usually it meant they wanted an alto. This customer clearly belonged to the class of people who would say something hostile and cruel to Candy if she asked him to clarify.

Half-caf, alto, two-pump caramel, nutmeg, peppermint mocha, Candy called out.

I want an alto, extra-hot, skinny, sugar-free vanilla latte with three and a half pumps and two shots, came the next order.

The woman ordering was disturbingly thin, and said the word skinny with relish. Candy thought she looked like the type of person who stayed up late every night chain-smoking and pulling out her hair, revising memos and action plans for the next day of work dozens of times over.

Alto, three-and-a-half-pump sugar-free vanilla, nonfat, extra-hot latte, Candy called.

You didn’t say two shots, snapped the woman, staring intently at her smart phone, her thumbs furiously engaged.

It comes with two shots, said Candy.

"No, largo comes with two shots, the woman insisted. Alto comes with three."

Candy didn’t feel like arguing the point, but maybe if this woman listened to her now it would save everyone some grief when she placed more orders in the future. "You must be thinking of icy alto, she said diplomatically. Those have three. But hot altos come with two, just like largos."

I come here all the time, and I know how many shots an alto has! Now the woman was angry enough to look up from her smart phone so she could glare at Candy with all of her hatred. She was not going to listen.

Can you make sure that last drink gets two shots? Candy called out. Pete, who was marking the cups, just grinned at her and shook his head.

The clientele had become increasingly neurotic and belligerent with the boom in business. Candy supposed it was all these lobbyists and political types who had moved to Friendsville, following the president. Each of them seemed to be operating on one single remaining nerve. Their ludicrous espresso drinks were the only comforts left them in their valiant struggles to ward off a complete nervous breakdown. She wondered if they might not be the stupidest people on earth.

Give me a half-skim, half-breve, dry cappuccino, extra-hot, no foam, a half pump of sugar-free caramel and one-and-a-half pumps of vanilla.

Candy rolled her eyes involuntarily. Luckily, the woman ordering was so busily engrossed in her own smart phone she didn’t notice.

This order was so annoying, Candy didn’t even know where to start. Mixing two types of milk. Extra-hot milk (which really meant scalded milk). A cappuccino with no foam. Cappuccinos were half-foam by definition. Also, she would have to steam the milk longer to scald it, and steaming was the very thing that caused more foam. This woman must have felt like she was getting something extra out of life by ordering such a complicated drink. One more tiny notch on her belt in a lifetime of scrambling for every edge she could get.

To top it all off, she hadn’t even