George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 159

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Although the donation lines had shrunk considerably, the culture of donation hadn’t been completely destroyed. Of course, donation aversion had spread widely among the public due to the recent scandals, and distrust of charities had arisen. However, because the government took the lead in investigating and reforming the sector, it instilled a degree of trust in the government itself.

It was like an exchange of trust: less for charitable organizations, more for the government. Paradoxically, this also meant that information released by the government was perceived as having a certain degree of reliability. The ‘Charity Guide’ released by the government succeeded in restoring some trust in charities, though not completely.

The problem was that charities not included in the guide were completely sidelined. This meant that the very act of donating could be controlled according to the government’s will. It might be a slight exaggeration, but one could say that ‘even people’s consciences could be swayed without directly spending money.’

Strictly speaking, money *was* spent. Money was spent on investigating and compiling the Charity Guide. However, since people who wanted to donate didn’t directly receive money from the government, it could be argued that no money was spent in influencing their decisions.

Isn’t it ironic?

That in the country that loves freedom the most, the most authoritative entity has become the government? What a contradiction. Of course, it’s a problem if the government lacks authority, but it’s equally problematic if it wields too much.

However, even those with good intentions couldn’t speak out carelessly. After all, aren’t justice and common sense often arbitrarily defined by the needs of the public? Back in the 80s, you could smoke on the bus. Now, if you lit up a cigarette on the bus, you could be arrested and end up eating three square meals a day at the police station.

They had no choice but to acknowledge the current trend favored the government. All they could do was collect as much data as possible, preparing for the inevitable moment when the government made a significant misstep. Even a knight in the sturdiest armor can be killed by a boy with a well-honed dagger if he finds the chinks in the armor.

However, the person wielding the dagger had to be at least a boy past puberty. Shoddy and unreliable data, like that of an infant, couldn’t possibly challenge the government’s dominance.

A small phrase uttered by a reporter from a minor newspaper was creating a subtle wave, slowly spreading awareness throughout American society.

“Is there such a word? ‘Dictatorship.’ That’s a bit of an uncomfortable word to hear.”

“That’s what they’re saying. Frankly, it sounds like bullshit to me.”

The reason the Chief of Staff could confidently dismiss the concerns of intellectuals as bullshit? There was a very simple, very valid, and undeniable reason that everyone would be forced to accept.

“You want me to do this every day until I die? What a fucking mountain of bullshit.”

The reason was piled up like a mountain in front of the Chief of Staff.

“Even if that’s not the case, I have to do it for six more years?”

“Please don’t look for me in the next term.”

“Haha, this guy’s jokes are top-notch.”

Bush had no intention of letting Andrew Card go unless he collapsed from overwork. If a public official is paid by the country, shouldn’t that official work like a dog so that the people can live comfortably?

“But no one else sees it that way. Why doesn’t everyone work like a dog like the Chief of Staff, and instead work like a son of a bitch?”

In fact, it wasn’t just the President and the Chief of Staff in the Oval Office. Several cabinet members, including Dick Cheney, were sitting uncomfortably in their chairs. The President’s scolding, delivered with relentless energy, left everyone speechless. No one could respond to this outburst, especially since it was the President speaking. It was well-known that President Bush had thrown himself into his work after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, essentially abandoning any semblance of a personal life.

Once, a famous paparazzi reporter, known for uncovering the love affairs of countless sports stars, declared, ‘This is a sure thing!’ and tried to gather evidence for nearly a year. In the end, he admitted defeat, acknowledging that his efforts had been in vain.

Bush really did work all day. Of course, a mere paparazzi couldn’t know every detail of the President’s life, so his assessment wasn’t entirely accurate. However, reputations matter, and this paparazzi’s reputation was legendary in his field.

Anyway, the important thing was that Bush and the Chief of Staff were truly living austere lives, dedicated solely to ‘work’ except for sleeping and eating.

So, the other officials had no excuse, even when the President chewed them out. The most senior figure was setting the example, so how could they simply coast through their days and go home?

Did I say ‘some officials’ earlier? In fact, many officials were already working to the point where they couldn’t even go home, thanks to the immense workload Bush had assigned them. In particular, the CIA personnel were authorities in pushing limits, and some actually collapsed from overwork due to their superiors constantly pioneering new, uncharted territories of exhaustion. The thoughts and feelings of those who collapsed were always the same: ‘Finally, I can rest!’

There had been talk that the President’s methods reduced work efficiency, but now no one dared to challenge his assertion: ‘I have made America the greatest with this method!’ and his accompanying threat: ‘If work efficiency is going to drop this much, take off your clothes and leave!’

Of course, after one or two people actually quit due to excessive work, they slightly reduced working hours. Still, no one dared to complain.

“Anyway, what I want to say is simple.”

Bush said, signing the documents with a cheerful flourish. With that, the approvals to be resolved by noon were finished. Then, he accidentally moved his leg and pressed a button.

“Oh, shit. Wait a minute.”

Suddenly, a motor sound came from the desk, and something popped out from the front. It was truly bizarre. The color was military green. The shape was rectangular, but it protruded slightly forward.

“What the hell is this?”

The patent number was 2,972,949. The contents inside the polystyrene shell were 0.125-inch steel balls and 1.5 pounds of C4 explosive, making its name Claymore [a directional anti-personnel mine]. It goes without saying that if it exploded, everyone except the person behind the desk would die.

“I can fix it.”

Was it this button? No, maybe it’s this button. Bush fumbled and tested a few buttons, and finally succeeded in restoring it to its original state. With the first motor sound, the Claymore retracted into the desk and disappeared without a trace.

“I wondered what secrets were hidden in that clumsy desk, but was such a hideous thing installed? I thought it only had explosion-proof functions?”

Dick Cheney was very surprised. He thought he was the most outrageous, but he had completely forgotten the proverb that there may be blue and better blue [meaning someone will always surpass you]. Of course, Cheney was running fast, but Bush was flying in a fighter jet.

Anyway, the President’s desk outwardly only appeared to be equipped with excellent explosion-proof functions. But how could that be all? Besides the Claymore that had just been activated, there were a few more hidden functions. However, the only people who knew those functions were the technicians who installed it, the President who had to use it directly, and the Chief of Staff, who was a loyal confidant.

“Does that run on electricity? What if it malfunctions?”

“The firing function is manual, so it’s okay.”

Of course, since they were using electric detonators, if the current flowed incorrectly, everyone would go to the afterlife together. However, for the current to flow and malfunction, they would have to directly manipulate the wiring. In short, there would be no malfunction unless they pulled out the wire from the outlet with their hand and plugged it directly into a specific part of the desk. That was the only way.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is this. Everyone is so busy, so it seems like there wouldn’t be a big problem even if the budget for idle departments is cut a bit.”

It was a logical step. Until now, the government had been spending freely thanks to the money coming in from Congress. However, with China on the verge of collapse and the future uncertain, unnecessary budget expenditures had to be minimized.

“I think you understand what I’m saying, right? From now on, create your own work.”

As Bush finished speaking, White’s [likely referring to the presidential pet, a Scottish Terrier] leisurely cry was heard from under his feet.

Since then, things started to run more smoothly, and efforts to find and address even one alienated person or one small inefficiency became visible to the public. Of course, as always, there is no perfection in the world. Because they were trying to create non-existent work, strange tasks such as ‘turning off and on a perfectly good light a few times at a set time’ were created.

However, even considering these pointless tasks, it was true that the amount of work processed had increased. You can’t be perfect, but you can improve.

However, only this rumor spread: ‘The President threatened public officials who didn’t work hard enough with firearms.’

“Hmm, they’d be even more horrified if they knew it wasn’t a firearm, but a Claymore, right?”

“Did you press that on purpose, sir?”

“How could I accidentally press that? I pressed it on purpose. Did you see the expressions on those guys’ faces at that time? They showed subtle expressions, and then they turned blue.”

It was so complicated to operate that it only worked when a specific footrest was pressed with the foot and a separate button was pressed with either the hand or the foot. In short, it was an event that could never happen unless coincidence was piled upon coincidence.

“Aren’t you getting more and more eccentric lately?”

“Originally, monarchs used to summon ministers who weren’t working hard enough and threaten them by stabbing them with a knife on the spot, so I’m pretty good.”

“What crazy monarch does that?”

“Look, White is saying I’m normal too.”

Bush put both hands between White’s armpits and lifted him up, but his body was so long that his legs didn’t come off the ground.

“Cats can’t talk.”

The words ‘And that doesn’t seem to be a cat’ were swallowed before they could be uttered. For some reason, that snow-white thing seemed to be glaring at him. White’s vertically torn pupils had a strange power that made his spine tingle.

“Well, that’s what I mean.”

“I’m glad that your hunting instincts have decreased a bit these days. I thought you would eventually not be satisfied with birds and move on to large mammals.”

“Hum. It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t trust the words coming out of the President’s mouth, but how are you going to solve the Southeast problem anyway?”

“Southeast? What Southeast?”

“Didn’t you tell me to investigate the Southeast last time?”

“Ah, the kudzu problem?”