When an American pessimist said to me, “We are so divided. The only thing that could bring us together is an alien invasion,” I wondered if we were really that broken.
“Mr. President, there appears to be a vast fleet of alien ships headed on a trajectory with Earth. Clearly, they are hostile.”
The president’s national security adviser pointed to the terrifying leviathans on the darkening screen. The president turned to his generals in the situation room. “Raise us to DefCon 1. Send up our F-35s to conduct recon, and fire if fired upon. Give me the nuclear launch codes. I’ll reach out to our congressional leadership.”
The president first spoke to the Senate majority leader, who said, “It would be a waste of my time and the country’s time to attend any so-called emergency meeting called by a lame-duck president. Build the damned dome! Secure the stratosphere.” Then he hung up.
The speaker of the House had a two-word reply. “Drop dead.”
The House whip told the president he didn’t have time to talk to “traitors.”
“I have to work the tea party caucus,” he said. “The House is in the middle of a vote to repeal your War Powers Act.”
As the clock ticked, the commander-in-chief’s despair deepened.
One congressman called the president “a congenital liar,” another questioned his status as a citizen of Earth and another accused him of “unspecified high crimes.”
The chair of the Joint Chiefs cleared her throat. “Mr. President, the saucers appear to be taking positions around the world over major cities.”
Alarmed, the president asked his chief of staff, “Where’s my space security director?”
“Mr. President, you have no space security director. Her confirmation hearings were postponed last week, in one senator’s words, ‘until hell freezes over or little green men land in Washington.’ Sir, the Statue of Liberty was just vaporized.”
The room gasped. The president rose from his chair and clenched his fists. “Engage the enemy!”
The vice president tugged the president’s sleeve. “Uh, Mr. President, I have the chairman of the Military Affairs Committee on line one. He doesn’t approve of the way you’re handling this. His committee is issuing subpoenas. He is looking into impeachment. Whoa! Did you see the way the Lincoln Memorial lit up? Lincoln’s head shot clear across the Potomac!” The situation room shook. Lights flickered.
On the TV monitors, the images of global havoc were replaced by a hideous alien creature demanding surrender, “or your filthy little species will face prompt and utter destruction.”
The vice president’s phone rang again.
“Call for you on line two, sir. It’s a senator from Texas. He’s threatening a prompt and utter government shutdown.”
As images of smoldering cities filled the monitors, the nation fell to its knees in prayer as the president picked up the call. On the other end was a twanging nasal voice that grated the nerves like nails across a chalkboard.
“I was hoping to get your attention, Mr. President. Since when did you think of yourself as above the law, giving the order to launch an interstellar war without congressional approval? I’m calling for an investigation into what is clearly ...”
“Now, senator? Now? The entire West Coast is gone, senator! And New York!”
“Those people aren’t my constituents. I represent the real America.” The senator was unmoved, even as a wounded starship careened into the Capitol dome.
Over the screams of his colleagues, the senator continued with firm conviction.
“Listen, Mr. President, how do we know that you aren’t from outer space?” The senator glanced out his window to see the Washington Monument obliterated and the Potomac ablaze.
“I have an election coming up, Mr. President!”
Just then, the line went dead and the lights went out. The president held his head in his trembling hands as the nation’s seat of governance lit up like a thousand Fourth of Julys.
