The U.S. presidential election didn't just ripple through America—it sent waves crashing across the Atlantic to England's shores.
Just days ago, the former Princess of Wales, now a renowned philanthropist, Lady Diana, published an article openly endorsing the U.S. Democratic presidential candidate, Barack Obama. Her piece appeared in The London Observer.
In it, she praised Obama's policies aimed at tackling economic hardship. "Across the globe, progressive politicians are rising to meet these challenges," she wrote. "In the U.S. presidential race, it's the Democrats who are offering ideas to help people navigate tougher times. To protect families facing foreclosure, Barack Obama has proposed a fund to shield them from the economic downturn..."
Though English, Diana commanded unmatched popularity in the U.S. Heaven only knew why a former British princess was so beloved across the pond.
Her endorsement sent Obama's approval ratings soaring, overtaking McCain by another four points.
Obama, thrilled, called Martin. "My God, this is a massive surprise! I never imagined you'd get Lady Diana to speak up for me. I owe you one."
Martin chuckled modestly and hung up.
His relentless support for Obama, leveraging his strong network, was a rehearsal for his own future ambitions. Sure, he had dreams of founding his own nation in Guinea, but that didn't stop him from eyeing the U.S. presidency first. If the world's most powerful nation let even a sliver of its resources trickle to Guinea, that impoverished African country could transform into a developed one. With robust U.S. backing, Guinea might even rise as Africa's hegemon.
[GodOfReader: if this fucker started proposing various policies that are beneficial to China, I'll straight up abandon this novel.]
Between inheriting a "continental titan" or a "rundown backwater," Martin clearly preferred the former.
Yes, he was out to shear America's wool, laying the foundation for his future nation.
Diana's article predictably enraged the Republicans.
McCain's campaign foreign affairs senior official, Michelle Geddes-Fabb, issued a statement on the campaign's official website on the 10th. She declared that Diana, as a prominent British figure and former princess, was out of line for publishing such a blatantly partisan article. "The U.S. election is an internal matter," she said. "Foreign interference is plainly unwarranted."
Geddes-Fabb added, "If this former princess has time to spare, she'd do better focusing on Britain's own economic issues—especially given their current state—rather than making inappropriate remarks about another nation's politics."
To counter Diana's influence, another woman, Sarah Palin, announced a forthcoming mini-memoir. Within a week, it hit the shelves.
Titled Sarah: How a Hockey Mom Shattered Alaska's Political Establishment (don't laugh—it's a real book), the slim 160-page volume told the story of a "political Cinderella." It chronicled a small-town mayor and devoted hockey mom chasing her dreams in an unforgiving political landscape.
As the only book about Palin's life on the market, its bestseller status was no surprise. In under a month, the hardcover climbed to thirteenth on the national nonfiction hardcover list, while the paperback hit sixth on its respective chart.
Palin had struck gold.
But just as she rode the wave of Republican efforts to overshadow Diana's impact and boost her own profile, internal cracks emerged.
Obama's campaign announced they'd teamed up with Alaskan officials to reveal "the real Sarah Palin" and dismantle her mythos. Former Alaska Governor Knowles and Wasilla Mayor Winston took the lead in the Democrats' latest offensive, dubbed the "Alaska Myth-Busters."
Wasilla was at the heart of the "Bridge to Nowhere" controversy.
These two officials questioned Palin's integrity and McCain's judgment in choosing her as his running mate. Knowles, in a teleconference, said, "Sarah Palin, Alaska's current governor and the Republican vice-presidential candidate, could become president if McCain falters. I deeply question her qualifications for that role. Their so-called reformist agenda doesn't align with reality."
Winston, meanwhile, highlighted Palin's growing "credibility gap." "For me and many Alaskans I know," he said, "the divide between what Palin says and the truth—between what she claims to have done and what records show she actually did—is widening."
He zeroed in on her handling of the "Bridge to Nowhere" fiasco. Palin had claimed she blocked construction of a costly, federally funded bridge linking the small town of Wasilla, population 7,600, to an airport on Gravina Island, citing its economic impracticality. At the Republican National Convention, an Ohio rally, and a Virginia event on the 10th, she told cheering crowds, "I told Congress, 'Thanks, but we don't need a bridge to nowhere in Alaska.'"
Winston called it pure fiction. "Palin never told Congress any such thing," he said. "In fact, she never said a word to Congress. The bridge's funding was secured long before she became governor. We did the work, and this woman shamelessly took the credit."
"Damn it, Sarah, what's going on? Tell me straight—is the Bridge to Nowhere story true or not?" McCain's voice crackled with frustration. He'd chosen Palin as his running mate partly for her gender but also because, as a political newcomer, she'd be easier to control if she became vice president.
But if she was already deceiving him...
McCain was starting to doubt his decision.
Palin's heart raced, but she stood firm. "That credit is absolutely mine. No one can take it away."
Meanwhile, Obama was buzzing when he called Martin again. "How the hell did you pull this off? They'd already aligned with Palin—how'd you get them to flip? My God, you're a miracle worker. My team's PR folks couldn't crack this in a week, but you did it with one phone call. I'm almost regretting not dragging you into my office."
His excitement poured through the line. And why wouldn't it? Smearing Palin meant McCain had lost his biggest asset.
Martin's voice stayed calm. "Easy, Barack. You know I'm good at persuading people."
"Good?" Obama laughed. "Martin, you're practically the god of persuasion."
Martin shivered, his mind flashing to a certain trickster from Norse mythology, the one locked in a love-hate dance with his brother, the God of Thunder. Loki, he thought. The god of mischief, lies, fire... and persuasion.