George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 130

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The Republic of Sudan. Bordering Egypt, and acting as a gateway to Asia Minor and the Middle East, it was a country steeped in conflict. The 14th century was marked by the rise of Islam, and the 19th century by joint colonial rule.

The Republic of Sudan, less than 50 years after its independence, was already facing internal division. Minority groups, consistently oppressed since before independence, were attempting to secede, a movement backed by the considerable foreign influence of the American president, echoing a modern-day division of the world.

“I feel like my brain is slowly turning to mush,” Kruger, a local CIA operative in Sudan, muttered as he swallowed a handful of nutritional supplements. Despite being a local operative, he was an American citizen by birth, having, in a way, returned to his ancestral homeland.

Despite working for the CIA, his job was essentially that of a regular office worker: compiling information from the field, organizing it, and sending it back to headquarters. This might explain why the office was smaller than other CIA outposts, staffed by only two people.

“Yeah, I get what you mean. Doesn’t it feel like the more information you stuff in your head, the more you become like a machine?”

*What an easygoing bastard.* Kruger thought. *His brain must be wired differently. How can he be so calm in a country that’s practically a war zone? He must be a madman or a warmonger. Sending such a crazy guy as a junior…*

“No, it’s more like I’m afraid I might die.”

“This is the Sudanese Embassy in the U.S., not some backwater. What could possibly happen here?”

“Right. The Sudanese Embassy in the U.S., where you can hear suicide bombing chants at high noon.”

“Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” It felt like he’d heard it so often he could recite it himself. Frankly, with the climate and the local attire, he couldn’t tell if he was in Africa or the Middle East. It was an Islamic country, so it was to be expected, but this was excessive. The sight of black people shouting “Allahu Akbar” was surreal to Kruger, whose knowledge of Africa was limited.

To Kruger, Africa was simply a place with black people who carried guns or bows. It might be a prejudiced view, but he held a strong image of ‘Black Africa’ as an uncivilized and underdeveloped place. Even knowing it was a stereotype, it was hard to shake.

Especially when working here! He wasn’t trying to denigrate their beliefs, but from the perspective of someone raised in a capitalist democracy, it seemed like an ignorant and primitive place. Of course, Kruger knew that capitalism and democracy weren’t perfect either.

Ignorant people might rave about free-market capitalism being the best system, but Kruger disagreed. In his view, the problem wasn’t the ideology or system itself, but the people implementing it. Even the best political system would be executed poorly by an idiot, and effectively by someone competent.

“In any case, this isn’t a great place to work.”

Putting aside the suicide bombings, since the embassy was heavily guarded, Kruger’s immediate safety wasn’t threatened. But he couldn’t stand the frequent power outages caused by suicide bombings damaging the power grid, which erased the documents he was working on.

This had happened at least four times since he started working at the CIA office in the Sudanese Embassy. Four times! Was that even possible? If the equipment was outdated, he could request a replacement. But what could he do when the *country* was a mess?

*Should I request a change in the Sudanese government? Or should I just quit this job?*

“It’s not as bad as North Korea, though.”

“North Korea? You’ve worked in North Korea?”

“Not for long. Maybe about a year.”

“You only worked there for a year, and you’re already complaining?”

“Why? You’ve only been working here for a year, too, *senior*.”

“Huh, look at this guy. Is your year the same as your great senior’s year?”

The junior seemed to sulk and fell silent. But Kruger’s curiosity was piqued. The junior had clammed up, and what wasn’t very interesting suddenly became intriguing.

“What was North Korea like?”

As the saying goes, a thirsty person digs a well, and Kruger finally asked first.

“Ah, don’t even get me started. You know the Korean Peninsula was in complete turmoil. You know my original post was in South Korea, right? It’s still a livable place there, right? But those bastards sent me to North Korea because I was the only Yankee who knew Korean. Seriously crazy bastards. I know that if agents on the ground are exposed, they’ll be executed immediately, but they send *me*?”

Of course, the floodgates opened from the mouth that had been tightly shut.

“Why is that?”

“No, I mean, is the English that the British bastards use the same as the English we use? I really couldn’t understand a thing.”

He understood roughly when he explained it that way.

“If that was the only thing, I wouldn’t even say anything. But this crazy legend keeps coming.”

“Legend? You don’t mean the President?”

“Who else is a legend? George W. Bush is the only one. What can we do when the VVIP [Very Very Important Person] comes? We were all fired up and worked like crazy. Besides, the North Korean people are completely brainwashed. I still remember it. They glared at every American who passed by, saying, ‘Yankee jackals, get out! Our will! We will become a furious sword to stab the Americans! Let’s annihilate the American imperialist aggressors, the sworn enemies of the Korean people!’ Their eyes were so fierce that my legs went numb. And suicide bombings? Don’t even get me started. I was working when the light-water reactor exploded, so I saw it in real-time. That was the first time I saw a mushroom cloud. I thought Kim Jong-il had gone crazy and detonated a nuke?”

*Good heavens. Eminem isn’t even this fast.* Kruger thought.

Kruger realized for the first time today that he could beat someone with just words. He didn’t know how he was breathing, but the rapid-fire words that came out without a break were like a mouth of terror. Besides, he spoke so fast that he couldn’t tell if it was English or an African native language. If he hadn’t gotten used to his junior’s tone, he really wouldn’t have understood.

“But I heard things have gotten a little better since the establishment of the embassy?”

“Better my ass. It’s just not in the news. The situation there is still bad. Even the South Koreans who used to protect them as the same Korean people now treat them almost like traitors. And at least you can go shopping for things here. They don’t sell anything to Americans there.”

“So, is all the work we’re doing to turn North Korea upside down in vain?”

“It’s not in vain. They hate Americans, but the North Korean people are so crazy about American products. You know how South Koreans really hate Japan but are so crazy about Japanese products? It’s the same principle. You know that North Koreans use our dollars to calculate prices in the marketplaces? I was so dumbfounded.”

This junior of his was good in many ways, but his flaws were that he was sassy and talkative. Kruger cursed inwardly, saying that he would have chewed him out for good if he hadn’t been so bad at his job.

Then, suddenly feeling suffocated, Kruger unknowingly ate another nutritional supplement. No matter how much nutrition there is, it’s never enough, right? Of course, too much is as bad as too little, and if he rashly took more than the recommended amount, he could be taken to the hospital, but two shouldn’t be a problem.

But at some point, the mouth of terror was closed?

*He’s not the type to just talk this much and stop.*

He waited for a long time, but his mouth didn’t open.

“Why, man? What? Say something, man.”

“Can I have one of those, too?”

What he meant by ‘that’ was the nutritional supplement that Kruger had just taken to protect his health.

“You know we grow plants on the embassy rooftop, right?”

“I know. It’s like a botanical garden up there.”

“You can eat the same ingredients if you go out there. Go up and eat it.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s extracted from African plants, so you can get it locally.”

“What are you talking about?”

In fact, Kruger was a bit dumbfounded even as he spoke.

Ingredients extracted from African plants, manufactured by an American pharmaceutical company in an American factory, and a nutritional supplement that an African-born American CIA agent on a business trip to Africa diligently takes in Africa. Isn’t that ironic?

“Anyway, no, no. Do you know how much this costs?”

In fact, it wasn’t a very expensive item.

“Ah, just give me one.”

But at least it was an expensive item *now*. Originally, the price of an item varies greatly depending on the art of negotiation. Price is something you make, not something that is set separately. He’s pushed this far, so isn’t it time to pull?

“Then, if I give you one, will you listen to me?”

“Of course.”

The junior answered as if he had been waiting for it.

“Then, first of all, slow down your speech, man.”

“Okay.”

The junior immediately put the nutritional supplement in his mouth as soon as he received it. But suddenly, he heard a sound like he was chewing peanuts?

“No, you crazy bastard. Why are you chewing it?”

“It doesn’t taste very good. It smelled sweet, so I thought it would taste like candy.”

He thought he had experienced all kinds of strange people since joining the CIA, but this junior was the first crazy person like this.

“Anyway, Sudan doesn’t refuse to sell things to Americans.”

“You son of a bitch. I’d rather they didn’t sell it. It’s better than being chased by a cheetah from behind when you go out to buy something.”

Even though it’s Africa, how can there be a cheetah in the city, not the wilderness? That’s because cheetahs are raised as hunting or pet animals in Africa. It’s not very common even in Africa for wealthy families to raise them occasionally, but that uncommon wealthy family happened to be in this neighborhood.

“They say it’s running up to you to play.”

“Do you want to play with a carnivore? I think I’d be terrified even if a dog half the size of a cheetah ran up to me.”

“Humans are carnivores, too?”

“Humans are omnivores. You idiot.”

“I’m a vegan?”

“You said you were a carnivore?”

“I’m a flexitarian?”

*Is he really crazy?*

The expression of his intention not to give in even a single word was strongly evident.

“Stop talking nonsense and do your job properly.”

“I’m done?”

The junior said that and turned the laptop around to show him. The information, which had been so chaotic, was neatly organized into easy-to-understand graphs.

*If it weren’t for that excellent work ability, I would have chewed him out like crazy.*

“How is it? Did I do well?”

And if he were a man, he might have killed him. He’s holding back because he’s a ‘woman.’

“But what is this? It’s Chinese data.”

“Ah, this? It’s a comparison of the decline in China’s GDP and the increase or decrease in Chinese companies’ investment in the Republic of Sudan. Didn’t I do well?”

He did well. Frankly, he had a natural talent for information organization, which was a narrow task, and he was better than Kruger, who had been doing this for 15 years.

“This isn’t what I asked you to do.”

“Ah.”

After that, the two entered overtime.