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Tuesday, March 23, 2021, 12PM Moscow Standard Time
Sergei Borisevich knocked on the President’s door.
“Enter,” the President said.
“Gospodin Prezident,” Sergei said.
“What is it, Sergei?”
“Gospodin Prezident, I feel I must inform you that there are reports that unknown forces have apparently rebelled against the governments of the Baltic States beginning early this morning, and are in possession of large swaths of the territories adjacent to the Motherland.”
“Really?” the President said, raising an eyebrow and smiling slightly.
“Da,” Sergei said, also smiling. “The forces that have arisen are reported not to wear any official markings.”
“Zelyonye Chelovechki?” the President asked. Then in English, he asked, “Little Green Men?”
“No,” Sergei said.
“No?”
“Actually, this time, they are Belyye Chelovechki. Little White Men. They wear ski suits.”
“Very interesting,” the President said. “This is of course something I will need to stay on top of. This instability on our borders demands great vigilance on our part. Perhaps even direct investigation. It is such a convenient coincidence that I will be meeting with the head of our Special Operations directorate in… well, right now.”
“That is most convenient indeed, Gospodin Prezident. In fact, I think I saw him outside your door as I entered.”
“Well, if he has gone to all that trouble, perhaps you should send him in, Sergei Borisevich,” the President said, still smiling slightly.
“Konechno,” Sergei said, and backed out of the President’s office, also smiling.
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian