Quebec was already on fire.
Not literally—though the footage of protestors hurling flaming baguettes at government buildings made it hard to tell. But politically? Oh yeah. Full inferno.
Janet tossed a stack of intelligence briefs onto my desk. "Quebec declared symbolic independence. Again."
"That's their third symbolic declaration this week," I said, sipping maple cola.
"They printed passports with the slogan 'Not My Blake'."
Josh popped in. "I think their flag's just a giant shrug emoji now."
I leaned back. "Okay, how do we keep Quebec from actually leaving?"
Janet was already prepared. "Option one: economic incentives. Option two: cultural respect initiatives. Option three: something so stupid it might work."
"Tell me more about three."
---
Thus began Operation: Keep Quebec Chill.
First, we rolled out "French Fry Fridays"—free poutine for every Quebecois citizen under the new Unified States of North America food initiative.
Second, we made all government websites bilingual… and then had to fix them when the French translations came out as "Hello, Cheese Government."
Third, I held a televised address from a sugar shack in rural Quebec. I wore a flannel shirt. I learned how to say "Je vous aime" without accidentally proposing to the camera crew. I even played the accordion, badly.
Janet muttered, "If you solve secessionism with snacks and dad jokes, I swear to God…"
Josh handed me a mug labeled "Maple Messiah Returns."
---
Meanwhile, the other provinces had mixed reactions to the new policies.
British Columbia: Hosted a peace rave.
Manitoba: Politely asked if it was still part of anything.
Alberta: Demanded its own oil-based currency called the "Petroloonie."
And Ontario? Ontario was calm. Suspiciously calm. Like it knew something.
"They're up to something," Janet said, narrowing her eyes at a security briefing.
"Ontario?"
"They're the Canada of Canada, Blake. Never underestimate the quiet ones."
---
While we tried to hold the country together with duct tape and healthcare benefits, the rest of the world kept watching.
Russia accused us of "geopolitical maple imperialism."
The UK offered to rejoin if we promised to legalize kettles that boiled faster.
And Finland? Finland sent us a bottle of syrup labeled "For the Bloodless Conqueror."
Janet placed it on a shelf next to my "I Accidentally a Country" mug.
---
I was trying to review border logistics when a call came in from the new Minister of Canadian Heritage—a man named Luc, whose mustache had more authority than most generals.
"Mr. President," Luc said in a thick accent, "Quebec is planning an unauthorized referendum. Tomorrow."
"Let me guess—full secession?"
"No. They want to become their own country… within the USNA."
"Wait, like a country inside a country?"
"Oui."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Like a matryoshka doll of diplomacy."
---
The next morning, I flew to Montreal under cover of absurdity. We landed during a street festival that Luc insisted wasn't a protest, even though people were holding signs like "Croissants Not Congress" and "Poutine Before Politics."
I climbed onto a makeshift stage between a mime and a guy in a maple leaf speedo.
"People of Quebec!" I shouted. "You want to feel heard. I get that. You want autonomy. Cool. You want your own anthem, currency, and Olympic curling team. I can work with that."
The crowd murmured.
I held up a signed document. "So here's my offer: Quebec becomes a semi-autonomous cultural republic… with its own flag, anthem, and even an official holiday—Maple Pride Day. But you stay in the USNA. No passports. No borders. Just pride, poutine, and peace."
Luc whispered, "You are either very clever or very stupid."
"I contain multitudes."
---
The referendum passed by 0.4%.
Barely—but enough.
Quebec stayed. The country didn't splinter. The speedo guy became a national meme. And I, somehow, avoided complete political immolation again.
Janet met me on the tarmac back in D.C.
"Well?"
I handed her a fresh maple cookie from a bakery in Montreal. "We're still whole. Ish."
She stared. "You are somehow building a nation out of snacks and vibes."
I smiled. "Welcome to the future."
Josh rolled up in a golf cart shaped like a moose. "Can we make moose-shaped drones next?"
"Go away, Josh."