45
Friday, February 12, 2021, 4PM Moscow Standard Time
Sergei Borisevich sat in the President’s office in the Kremlin, in a chair facing the President. Beside him was Vyacheslav Viktorovich. The President leaned forward with his elbows on the desk, his fingers interlaced.
“So, you are prepared to brief me on the Deep Fakes program, as well as our other outreach to the U.S. Republican Party?”
“Yes, Gospodin Prezident. I have brought Slava Viktorovich along because of certain unique insights he can bring to the topic. But we also had some delicate questions to ask you in order to guide our further efforts.”
The Russian President tilted his head slightly and a quizzical look was manifest in his eyes.
“And what would these questions be, keeping in mind that I asked you both to bring me up to speed on these topics, and it is therefore I who should be questioning you?”
Slava leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Boss.”
“Yes?”
“It was I who brought these questions up when Sergei asked me to accompany him here. I just thought that perhaps it would help us in our work to know a little more about the full extent of activities in which we have been engaged with respect to the subversion of the Republican Party and this American President. Only to the extent that you feel is appropriate, of course, Gospodin Prezident.”
The President was silent for a moment. “What is it you think you need to know?”
“There were rumors even before the 2016 election that we possessed certain documentary evidence that would compromise that President, obtained several years before when he visited Moscow,” Slava began.
The President remained silent.
“Does such evidence actually exist?”
The President continued to stare forward. At length he turned to Sergei Borisevich.
“Sergei,” he said, looking down at the desk, “Could you leave us? I need to speak to Slava for a moment.”
Sergei got to his feet, red-faced.
“Absolutely, Gospodin Prezident.” He turned on his heel, went to the heavy oaken door, opened it, went out, and shut the door behind him.
The Russian President turned to Slava.
“Slava Viktorovich, there are certain topics I do not want to discuss in front of more junior people.”
“Junior? He is your Deputy. …But I understand. Forgive me if I have offended.”
“Now tell me why you want to know about this alleged kompromat.”
“Because now might be an opportune time – perhaps the only time – to use such material.”
“And why would that be?” the President said.
“Well, as you requested, I have been briefed on the Deep Fakes program, and have brought that brief to you, as requested, and it is most impressive. Our people are now able to quickly produce compromising phony videos of anyone in the world, engaged in the most disgusting, embarrassing acts imaginable.”
“So?”
“So others will undoubtedly have a similar capability sometime in the near future. Which makes all video kompromat far less effective. If it is well-known that anyone can have his or her head placed on a plausible body and be made to do unspeakable things, then belief in all compromising videos will begin to fade very quickly.”
“Gresham’s Law,” the President said.
“Excuse me?”
“It is an old capitalist economic law. Bad coin drives out good. Fake videos will destroy the utility of real ones.”
“Something like that. So, in my humble opinion, what we have here with ‘Operation O Face’ is a wasting asset. It will begin to lose its value as soon as the deep fakes begin to be produced in any number.”
“Are you suggesting we expose some of the videos we have now?”
“That is one option. Another is to use them, while they retain their value, as levers to further compromise our targets in ways that will not depend upon video evidence for their value. We could go back to the old ways. Financial corruption. Threats to family members. Hacking the documents on their computers as opposed to their cameras. But yes, I think we have a strategic decision to make. Holding this wasting asset of credible video kompromat, if we believe that this American Republican Party has reached the end of its usefulness to the Motherland, this may be the only time to leak that video evidence through our usual channel. It will burn all bridges with that party, and make them look foolish and criminal, and could turn them against our interests. But we could still hold back the ultimate card – the immense financial support they have been receiving from our chosen oligarchs through legally untraceable SuperPACs, the National Gun Organization, and the like. Some of these connections have actually been public for years, but the NGO’s lobbying power has made even thorough investigation, much less prosecution, impossible in the United States. I was worried for some time that American journalists might unravel these connections. But I have been amazed at their almost complete lack of interest in them. If it was my country…”
“It is not.”
“And I thank God every day for that,” Slava said, crossing himself three times in the Orthodox manner, thumb touching forefinger and middle finger, up, down, right, left. “American journalists are a dying breed anyway. And the only ones with sinecures – the Washington Tribune, the New York Record, and the like – seem only interested in reporting on the virus, or any story about this American President. They seem to have decided their readers’ eyeballs can only be retained by endlessly detailing the latest outrages committed by this President, or who might succeed him, or how the pandemic could kill you, or how many people have allegedly died from the pandemic. Between you and me, Gospodin Prezident, I have it on good authority that even those numbers are not reliable.”
“So, you think this is the time to use any kompromat we have?”
“It is just a thought that has become increasingly persuasive to me. Any final decision, of course, would be up to you.”
“Thank you, Slava Viktorovich,” the President said, not without a hint of sarcasm.
“Excuse me for bringing it up in front of Sergei. Now of course he will think you have told me the truth about the old video kompromat of the American president.”
“I am sure you will disabuse him of that notion.”
“I will do my best. So, there is no such kompromat?”
The President simply smiled at Slava.
“All right. I will leave these two briefings on Deep Fakes and our campaign contributions to the Republican Party for you,” Slava said, placing two folders on the desk. “The latter will tell you that we gave far less money to them this election cycle, in keeping with our longstanding tradition of starving our assets once they have been compromised. As for the ‘Operation O Face’ material, I suppose there is something to be said for simply riding out the current administration, holding these assets over their heads for as long as possible, extracting the maximum from them while we hold these cards. But I felt that it behooved me to state my opinion that these are assets that must lose value as deep fakes become more common. I would estimate that we have somewhere between a year and four years before any authentic video kompromat simply loses almost all its impact.”
“I thank you for your opinion,” the President said.
“The strategic question, of course, is the one you phrased to me a few weeks ago. Is now the time to reverse course, to twist the knife on the Republicans? Will we really get much more of value from them by standing pat? And, of course, might we, by double-crossing them, gain immeasurably by throwing that entire rival nation into even greater disarray and confusion and division? The choice, Gospodin Prezident, is yours.”
“Again, thank you, Slava.”
“I merely wish to be of service.”
“Noted.”
“One final thing – Antonov has informed me of a breakthrough. He says he can bring you the apparatus by which you will be able to watch the American President very soon. Possibly as soon as the first of the month.”
“Good.”
“Perhaps after sampling the results, you may have the data you need to make your decision on strategy going forward. I will await that decision. In the meantime, I will continue with business as usual.”
“Very good. Send Sergei Borisevich in as you leave. I think he may require some feather-smoothing.”
“Certainly, Gospodin Prezident.”
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian