Lolita lay on her bed, remote in hand. She flicked on the news just as the live press conference began: Renee Clinton lounging in a plush red flax chair, Yesmin Trixie seated opposite, pen and notebook clutched like weapons.
Yesmin leaned in. "Renee, do you plan to accept more Cascadian immigrants in Catwerp?"
Renee nearly choked on her coffee, quickly setting her mug on the countertop table. "No. If we accepted more immigrants, it would create a housing crisis in Catwerp. Buying a house in Catwerp here costs a fortune, and property taxes are sky-high."
Yesmin's long black eyelashes didn't flutter. "That's interesting, because just this morning your social media account called Cascadians 'savages.' Care to comment on that?"
Renee shook her head. "My team is investigating a clear breach of that account. What I can say is that Catwerp remains committed to responsible immigration policies that protect our citizens."
"Really?" Yesmin arched an eyebrow. "Are you refusing Cascadian immigrants because you're racist?"
Renee stomped her heel on the marble floor. "Racist? How dare you. I have friends from all over the world!"
Yesmin didn't blink. "I've welcomed ten thousand Cascadians into Jayland already. I'd take more if I could—but my country is tiny. Catwerp is four times larger. Why won't you step up?"
Renee shook her head. "I can't. It would hurt the economy."
"Why is the customs enforcement team forcing Cascadian immigrants out of their homes?"
"Customs can remove anyone who isn't paying property taxes," Renee said flatly.
Yesmin raised her voice. "Most of these immigrants are too poor to afford valid documents."
"I can't loosen the rules governing my country."
Yesmin put her notebook and pen on the table. She pulled out a remote control for the smart board from her jacket pocket.
"You need to watch this." Her voice turned to ice.
Yesmin pointed the remote at the smart board behind them. Renee turned her head to watch the screen. Yesmin pressed the red button on the remote, turning on the video.
The video began: a low-resolution nighttime recording, likely from a body-worn camera. A battering ram struck the front door of the modest two-bedroom house. Wood splintered sharply. Agents in tactical gear stormed inside, their flashlights cutting through the dark.
One agent dragged a woman in her thirties by her dreadlocks. She screamed, "Please! I can't go back to Cascadia!"
He dragged her across the threshold and threw her face-down onto the wet grass outside. His knee drove into her back; she gasped as he wrenched her arms behind her and snapped handcuffs tight.
Nearby, another agent wrestled with the brown-eyed girl, kicking and screaming. Sank her baby teeth into the agent's forearm. He yelped, recoiling; she broke free and bolted barefoot down the street in her pink pyjamas.
The agent rushed after her and tackled her to the pavement. The agent weighed two hundred pounds more than the petite girl. She screamed, her face was bloody and bruised. The agent handcuffed her and carried her to the police cruiser. Two men sat on the grass crying while handcuffed, as the agents interrogated them.
The screen cut to black.
Yesmin's voice was steel. "This is disgusting. An eight-year-old girl ended up in hospital with a broken jaw—courtesy of your agents."
Renee shrugged. "I don't run Homeland Security. I can't stop every operation."
"You're the most powerful person in Catwerp," Yesmin shot back, "and you can't protect a child from having her jaw shattered by your own enforcers?"
"It takes years for the House of Commons to review any bill. The liberal party must first write the bill, and every member of parliament must agree on it. As Ruler, I can't change the laws without their approval."
She paused, a faint smirk creeping in. "Don't you have your own issues? Jayland's airport security is notoriously underfunded—high-tech bags slip through with undeclared firearms every day."
Yesmin bit her tongue. "Yes, I'm aware that our security team is underfunded. The problem is that travellers are bringing in high-tech bags that are passing through the clearance check at the airport security."
Renee chuckled. Now, the tables have turned in Renee's favour. " Thousands of those smuggled guns ended up in Cascadia. No arrests followed. Care to explain that?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine.
Lolita yawned. She'd lost interest twenty minutes ago. Reaching for the remote, she clicked off the television, finishing the last of her wine in one long sip. She set the glass on the bedside table and let her eyes drift closed, already half-asleep.