And as for foreign news reports
alleging stalled construction on cobalt refinery sites
being built by our new Chinese partners,
better check your sources say reps for the Bartos Corporation,
who claim work on the refineries is progressing smoothly,
and no one should doubt China's commitment to our future.
It's now one o'clock, let's join our Chancellor.
Good afternoon.
I bless you all in this time of great challenge
and great opportunity.
Despite discredited foreign media reports,
the Faban reunification was an unmitigated success.
There is no unrest. There are no guerrillas.
There is only a renewal of our love.
And yet still, the American Beast and its client states
try to strangle us.
But petty sanctions will always fail because our love cannot be sanctioned.
Turn it off!
Our enemies know we are thriving.
Turn it off!
Our economy is strong. Our workers are happy.
- Please! - Our enemies know,
so they have to lie and say...
What is it with you?
Why won't you sleep?
- Please turn it off! - We can't, Butcher.
Radio stays on all day. It's regulation.
- Turn it off! - Jesus, fuckin' shut up!
Anyone who dares insult me or my country
shall feel my fury and shall never be forgiven.
"It's one o'clock, let's join our Chancellor."
It's now one o'clock.
Time to join Chancellor Vernham's daily address.
A vicious lie is being spread
that our free trade deal with China has hurt our local sugar industry.
That the shops have been flooded with cheap Chinese sugar,
making it hard for our homegrown producers to compete.
A vicious lie.
Don't believe the lies. The sugar beet industry is strong.
Our sugar producers in Westgate are happy.
Westgate trash.
Any so-called demonstrations in sugar beet country are nothing
but cheap American performance art.
Don't let lumbering minds deceive you.
You must strive to have...
a graceful mind.
And who is really to blame
for the struggles of our local businesses and the reports of unrest in Westgate?
I'll tell you who.
Keplinger, the vile leftist.
He's still out there working with the global elite
to destroy everything we've built.
To those who oppose us, I have a simple message.
You dream about fucking me.
I don't dream about fucking you.
You dream about fucking me. I don't dream about fucking you.
Shut up! Shut up!
I don't dream about fucking you...
Sleep! Just sleep!
Been a week, you crazy fuck!
You dream about fucking me. I don't dream about fucking you.
You dream about fucking me.
I don't dream about fucking you.
It's now one o'clock, let's join our Chancellor.
Fuck.
Hot, hot. Fuck me. Hot!
Cold!
Cold. Fuck me! Cold.
The fuck are you wearing? Take that off!
And burn it. If fire still exists at this temperature.
Any better last night?
Oh!
It's like lying awake in a camel's asshole.
- Can't you feel it? - No, of course, I did.
It's nearly as bad in my corner of the world.
Hot. Hot. You're too hot, too hot.
Poor Lenny. I'll have another stern chat
- with services, yeah? - Yeah.
You know, when I have trouble sleeping,
I picture a doctor
opening up my skull and taking my brain out,
and all the thoughts that keep me up, my pains, my desires, they're all gone,
and I just pop right off.
Yeah, I don't think I'll imagine my own lobotomy, thanks.
Yeah, of course. Just a suggestion, really.
Oh, God, his air. It smells like dung today.
Good morning, my darling.
Good morning, sweetheart.
Let's have a little mint, yeah, shall we?
- Good boy. - That's it. Yeah.
Furnace. It's like a furnace.
- Oh, God, it's worse in here, Nicky! - Yeah.
I hear the boy sleeps in the Chancellor's bed now.
A bit worrying.
I think we may have more pressing concerns, Victor.
Like our entire economy circling the drain.
I'm just as concerned as you.
My son's application to Princeton, my iPhone account,
the pied-à-terre in Miami, it's all spatchcocked to fuck.
I'm living like a gypsy's dog.
And yet, I seem to recall you cheering on our Faban Corridor adventure.
"Sanctions? Do your worst," I believe you crowed.
No, no, no, I still support Madam's policies,
- ya know that, it's just-- - It's just? Just what?
You'd like to holiday somewhere without Sharia Law?
Get rid of your coats. She'll see you.
Number! The number, dear. Remember?
Thirty-four?
Thirty-four.
Right, let's do this.
- Wait. Caviar, caviar. Wait. - Yes.
Cheese.
Done.
Maybe caption it: "Love over easy," right?
"Petty sanctions won't starve us."
Yes, that's good too. Better, really.
So, I'm pleased to announce
that 20 of 26 poetry centers have been completed.
My wallet weeps bitter tears, but still tremendous news.
Why on Earth is it 26?
Remember, same number of original prints of Blake's "Songs of Innocence."
Are you serious?
It's 4,000 fucking degrees in here.
- Sorry, Madam, force of habit. - I want some, please.
Time for your breakfast.
Apologize to Agnes.
Do you know, sorry, he's been such a tyrant lately.
- Also, Agnes? - Yes, Madam?
His breath smells of feces. Have you noticed?
Can't say I have, Madam.
Well, let's work on that together.
And Agnes?
How is it?
I haven't yet inquired today, Madam.
But it's sleeping? It sleeps?
A bit, yes, Madam, yeah. I think it's trying.
Good.
So, it's still kicking.
Good.
And Agnes, get me some more fucking air conditioning units!
Certainly, Madam.
Even if the protests happening in Westgate were real,
which they are not,
what do our sugar beet workers have to complain about?
China is our friend.
Sleep well, Butcher?
Just think of all the ways China is investing in our future.
Infrastructure. Roads.
Our exciting new cobalt refineries.
All of these partnerships will pay off soon.
Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a tool of American intelligence
or a delusional Keplinger supporter
dreaming of my downfall.
Well, there won't be a downfall.
Our love is too strong.
No one will ever come between us.
I'm not telling her about the horse.
We have to tell her about the horse.
Then you tell her about the horse. This is your purview.
I am Minister of Comms, not fucking Master of Whips and Bridles.
Oh, shit. It's so cold.
I'd murder my family for a scarf. One scarf. I'd slit their throats.
Well, now.
This is something new.
Good morning.
Listen, before we start, can I just say something?
I don't need your quiet, worried faces.
You all need to be better at being normal.
When you're not normal, it makes me feel like
you're telling me that I'm not normal, which is a bad flavor for this room.
It's a loser's flavor and I dislike it.
And it makes me distrust all of you and want you to be dead.
So, just be better at being normal.
Good, let's start.
Madam, the foreign antagonists continue to do what they can
short of armed intervention to punish us for the Faban Corridor.
Freezing assets, banning travel, spurring defections--
Sanctimonious sanctions, I'd call it.
Yes, but what's the update beneath the update?
I was told the markets would even out with the China deal in place.
Chinese free trade was supposed to make us money,
not drain us dry.
Madam, free trade with China hasn't yet been the tonic we'd hoped.
As you know from the protests in Westgate,
cheap imports have hurt our industries, and--
I don't care about the sugar beet bullshit.
Just tell me about the cobalt refineries.
China was supposed to modernize our refineries
and jump-start our economy, so where's our payday?
When will they start earning?
Oh, very soon, Madam, we hope.
However, the Chinese contractors have hit some snags on the tech.
Well, quelle surprise.
Well, I can't wait forever, you know.
Meanwhile, ma'am,
with another three sugar beet factories closing,
the protests in Westgate are turning ugly.
We should discuss improving the visuals.
Madam, may we talk to you about an incident that occurred yesterday?
It's a situation
with a horse.
I'm eager for the next sentence.
One of our mounted police
monitoring a protest of sugar beet workers in Westgate,
well, his horse spooked.
It was the crowd's fault, really, Madam.
The horse bucked and it kicked a woman.
In the stomach region.
The woman was with child.
- A sort of unscheduled abortion. - Quite late term.
Right, and the woman?
Oh, regrettably, she expired.
Sorry, why am I hearing about this?
Well, ma'am, it's just that we're seeing it's become a bit of a rallying cry
among the disaffected of Westgate in particular.
Oh, the fucking Westgaters and their fucking emotional needs.
They're like fucking infants!
Yes, agreed, ma'am, agreed.
Nonetheless, I think it might be wise to have
a bit of a public dialogue of sorts with Westgate people?
And perhaps with the fetus of it all, something with children?
Fine, a Q and A with Westgate children here in the palace.
But only to inform.
I won't play nursemaid to their big, messy feelings.
God, it's fucking hot!
Who else is hot?
Hey! Hey, what is this?
- Let's go, Butcher. - Where?
Left.
- Where are you taking me? - Try anything and we put
- a bullet in your brain. - She would never.
- She doesn't give a fuck about you. - Move!
Left.
Hello, Herbert.
I'm Ed.
Keplinger...
what are you doing here?
I live here.
No, you don't.
I am quite certain that I do.
No, no, no, you are in the countrys--
You are in the countryside.
Am I? Gosh, well, I hardly seem to be.
No, no, no, no. I've seen you.
You live in shame, up north, in a big house.
We all know it. Everybody's seen you.
Oh, that. Yes, that is a bit of movie magic, I'm afraid.
They drag me very politely from my cell to a manor house now and again
to film a little fiction for you all.
You are a fucking liar.
Yeah, I can see it's confusing after what she's told you all.
No, you tried to ruin us when you were Chancellor.
You and your rich leftist friends cutting deals.
Piece of advice, Herbert,
from one prisoner to another, everything you thought you knew
up there when you were sucking free air,
it's a cloud.
You just let it pass.
Here, may I--
Tom, the keys.
Thank you.
You're from the beet country, I hear, yeah?
My mum was a Westgater.
There we are.
Don't mind Tom and Vin.
They're very, very lovely people who have come a very long way, especially Vin.
So, it's them who gave me your book?
The book. The book. Christ, you didn't read it, did you?
- No. - I should hope not.
The fetid wind of an aging leftist.
Does anyone know why we're still standing?
Come. Let's sit.
Please.
Gently, gently, Vin.
What is this?
Well, it gets a bit pokey in my cell,
so Tom and Vin like to bring me here in the tunnels for the odd midnight feast.
You know, a few smokes, schnapps, bit of sausage.
It's our little secret, so, you know...
Our little secret.
She's really giving you the treatment, isn't she?
I mean, it's fine. I have no scores to settle here.
I've reached a point where I frankly just...
- I suppose I pity her. - No, no, shut your fucking mouth.
Watch your tongue, Butcher.
You will say his name or you'll not share my table.
Do you understand?
Now get out.
But I haven't had my sausage.
And you will not. Not tonight. Go.
Tom, my friend, one moment, if you please.
I apologize.
Down here, you'll be treated with respect.
Yeah? I don't care what you did.
You and I are the same now. I'm no better than you.
In fact, in many ways, I'm a hell of a lot worse.
Here.
It's not as bad as it looks.
Thank you.
Don't swallow.
Don't swallow. Don't swallow.
Alright, this way, please, all you Westgate children.
Those of you with questions for the Chancellor,
please sit in allocated seats.
Come this way, please.
And we've thoroughly vetted these kids?
No prepubescent Trotskys in the mix?
The children have all been screened,
- I assure you. - Good.
I would hate to break out the extra-small garrotes.
Yes, hopefully, it won't come to that.
Ma'am, please do remember that these are real Westgate people
and you did ask for live TV.
Why does everyone keep saying that?
Do you think I'm gonna take a shit on the podium?
But I do think it may be wise to have a moment of silence, up top.
I'm not mentioning the horse.
Oh, you don't have to say the word "horse."
I think most people will understand it is ultimately about the horse.
Stop saying fucking "horse"!
So, without further ado, boys and girls,
Chancellor Elena Vernham.
Goodness, it's warm in here. I do apologize.
Well, good morning, everyone.
Good morning, Madam Chancellor.
Oh, that's sweet.
Now, I'd like to begin with a--
some questions. Who's first?
Yes?
My mum-- My-- Sorry.
No, that's alright, dear. Just take a breath.
My mother says we may have to ration food
because of disruptions in the supply chain.
- Is that something we-- - No, no, no, no, no.
Let's not go scaring ourselves with these words,
"rationing," "supply chain."
No, we are a good, strong economy.
Strong farming. Just be frugal.
I've been tightening my belt. You know, less butter, less wine.
It's good for me to go with less.
So, just follow my example and cut down.
You'll still have all your favorite little treats.
Yeah? Good. Who's next? Yeah?
I live with my parents in Westgate.
Yes, I thought I smelled something.
Oh, pity. That usually plays.
No, I love the factory smell. Smells like jobs.
And I've always had a special bond with you Westgaters.
- Continue please, dear. - My parents are worried
the sugar beet processing plant will close down.
Will we be okay? Given the China of it all?
"The China of it all"?
Well, kids say that, don't they?
Thank you for your question.
Sugar beet country, will be fine. Yeah.
A free trade with China will be a success.
Faban freedom will be worth the cost.
But let me just say this, have some pride.
I won Faban for you. I've empowered you, come on.
Don't just fall to pieces at the first little road bump.
Be real, people. You know, stop complaining.
Let me do my work and be grateful, okay?
'Kay. Sorry.
Yeah, no, don't say sorry, dear. I'm not scolding you.
Okay. Who's next?
But first, are we all having fun so far?
- Yeah. - Yeah? Alright, good.
Let's do another. Come on, let's go.
So, when I grow up, I want to be a doctor,
- just like you-- - I'm sorry, but a fucking horse.
That's all this is about. A horse. It's absurd.
Horses spook. That's just what they do.
Oh, no, maybe it was me who told horsey to kick that woman.
Clip, clop, clip, clop, kick.
Yes, of course! Let's all blame me. It was all my fault.
Listen, I'm sorry, if you're a giant pregnant tuna,
don't attend a government protest.
Oh, you see, this is exactly what the Americans want.
They want fear and unrest because their defense budget depends on it.
And you lot are just
handing it to them.
And Keplinger too, Marxist rat, scheming to get rich off your backs again!
Hiding in his mansion, and trying to subvert us.
Plotting and scheming, putting mold in our walls,
trying to poison us all!
I'm sorry, sorry, dear, you were saying you want to be,
you want to be a doctor?
Can't someone just give her a tissue?
Right, I think we've seen enough.
...for the youth of today.
But you will need Mummy and Daddy to buy you quite a lot of kit.
Yeah. Must be the cold, dry air.
- What? Cold? - The hot, the hot.
- Of course, the hot air. - Are you on crack?
Get the fuck off me. Right, now...
now, listen, I'm not angry, but it was very dry in there.
That's what the moisture meter is for, yes?
- That's your job, yes? - Yes.
And I've told you about the breath, remember?
Not angry, but the air was too dry, and your breath smells like shit.
Palace doctors say the incident was swiftly resolved,
but despite the brief medical mishap,
those in attendance were said to be delighted by the Chancellor's performance,
which even included a fiery denunciation of foreign critics and purveyor--
Chancellor.
No, no, no. Stay seated. Sit, sit. Sit, please.
Sorry it's been so long.
I've just been absolutely jammed.
Yes. Well, I remember how things can be, you know.
- Lapsang? - Thank you, no.
Never much cared for warm piss.
- You're well, though? - Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah.
- Enormously well. - Well, that's terrific. Good for you.
And you? Still curating your look, I see.
Your stubble and your rumpled dissident cool.
I said to Nicky, I said, "Wonder how he's getting on down there."
And then I remembered
as long as there's a mirror, you're in business.
Well, if you really want to know, I've been feeling a bit old lately,
bit lonely.
But I sleep really well.
Dreaming of your Mandela moment?
- Elena. - Chancellor.
Yeah.
Can I ask why you're here exactly?
Oh, you don't know?
I'm here to fuck your brains out, Eddie.
Right.
It was a joke.
I'm here to smash your fucking face in.
Yeah. Well, if you think it'll help.
Relax. Another joke.
Yeah.
Listening to the radio, your punchy new stance on the West.
I've been amused by the rather basic irony.
Tickled, are you?
Well, after all, our American friends
never much cared for my anti-imperial swank.
They much preferred you, their safe pair of tits.
We all remember you bending over for them at the drop of a check.
Well, that's all over now. I've driven them out.
- Have you now? - For the honest working people.
- Your old hobby horse. - Yes, yes, yes. Right.
The honest working people, like your gorilla man.
Brutes like him really turn you on, don't they?
No, he was never important.
But you do have a wonderful way with half-wits.
They just eat you up.
- And they spit you out. - The butchers,
well, they really devour your bullshit.
You effete, old peacock with your gay book and your Lapsang,
- babbling your left-wing dissertations. - No.
Yeah, no, I suppose I should've been fucked in the head like you.
Broken people really love broken people, don't they?
I can't help it that I'm interesting and you're not.
They're born in pain, so you turn their pain to anger
and make their anger your cudgel.
It's brilliant.
But now, they're turning the cudgel on you, aren't they, Elena?
And you know it. And you're very scared.
And that is why you're here, you silly fucking bitch.
Right.
Well...
enjoy your rest, Eddie.
Where is my family?
Lisbon? Perhaps?
Pity about the horse.
Face and torso. But save some for later.
Alright, my lovelies.
While the Chancellor's performance is being met with widespread acclaim,
we're hearing reports that during the Q and A,
she may have been the victim
of a pulsed radio frequency attack by the CIA.
Doctors say these attacks can cause brain fog,
irritability, and even nosebleeds.
Though the Chancellor has already recuperated,
she will continue to be monitored by medical experts
who say it is doubtful she'll suffer any longer-term effects.
If you would like to send your well wishes to the Chancellor...
Welcome back. Come. Sit, sit, sit.
Yes, I know, it's ghoulish.
It's alright, ya lovely bastards. You had no choice.
Come, let's feast.
Tonight, I see we have cheese.
- She was here. - Yeah, yeah.
Did she ask about me?
No, no.
Actually, that's not true. You were, you were mentioned.
- I was? - Yeah.
What did she say?
She asked me if I had seen her butcher.
I'm sorry, my friend.
It's true.
- I am a butcher. - No. No, you're not. No.
- Yes, I am. - No, you're not.
- I am. - You hurt people.
But what did she make you do after that?
- Yeah? Hurt more people. - Oh, shut up.
You hurt people because you wanted her to love you.
She did love me.
My advice...
surrender the fight. Just put down the bag.
Let her go like I have, yeah?
- Fuck off. - Okay, okay.
You still haven't read my book, I hope.
Of course not.
Not even a page?
- No. - Good man.
Date night has always been sacred.
It's the one night when we can focus on what really matters.
Family.
- Say "cheese." - Cheese.
Cheese.
Good. Got it. Right.
Get out. Everyone, fuck off.
Nicky, if I was pregnant, I wouldn't go to a protest.
I mean, anything could happen.
Do you know, I could get just knocked to the ground
or even kicked by a fucking horse.
You have to protect the baby at all costs, don't you?
Nicky?
I'm losing them.
My people.
Because you keep them at a distance.
- What? No, I don't. - Yes, you do.
Well, what do you know?
Stop being so bloody childish, Lenny.
For fuck's sake! The protests are real.
China's put half of Westgate out of business
and you know it.
You have to go and see your people. Be where they live.
Oh, no, no. No, that's not-- No, I'm not doing that.
- Oh, no. Absolutely no. - I'll be with you the entire time.
No, no, no. I'm not doing that. I can't.
And we'll bring all your medication,
- your comforts. It will be like... - No, can't.
- ...you never left the palace. - No. No, I said I can't.
You have to do this, Lenny!
And you can.
Trust me, you can.
What will happen?
We'll drive out to Shitsville,
and you will smile your beautiful smile, and say your lovely words,
and make those poor bastards happy.
And then, we'll come home.
Yes?
Hot.
- Hot, hot, hot. - Right.
- No, I'll do it. - EPO, Diazepam, Epinephrine.
Nothing can hurt you, okay?
But Nicky, we should've got more
- of these fan thingies. - Yes.
And that's B-12. Thank you, Rachel. We're gone.
Chancellor Vernham will meet in person today
with representatives from the sugar beet producers union in Westgate
to address the concerns of protesters.
What do we want?
Jobs for Westgate!
When do we want it?
Now!
Sources say the Chancellor hopes to bring an end to the violence and unrest
witnessed at recent demonstrations and foster a fruitful and healing dialogue
with our nation's sugar beet workers.
Amongst the topics set to be discussed
are strategies to limit Chinese competition in the sugar trade.
The Chancellor is looking forward to, once again,
being out amongst the Westgate people who she has long maintained
are the heart and soul of our nation's working class.
Oy, I'm sorry.
I thought it might be easier to meet at my place.
As you can see, I've gone horizontal.
Oh, poor Tom and Vin.
Not your fault, my friends. Never, ever your fault.
Didn't happen to catch the news, did you?
Yeah. She's losing.
Yeah, she's meeting with the sugar beet union in Westgate.
Desperate enough to leave her bubble.
And that, Herbert, suggests to me--
Thank you, my friend. Here, take a chair.
That suggests to me
an endgame.
I think it's over. I think she's finished.
Now, we're still captives to her whims.
We may die with her regime, but if we do survive, we need a plan.
- We? - Oh, yes.
We. Together.
Me, with my experience in the chancellery, you with your,
with your common touch.
And your vision.
Yeah.
What would we do?
- Everything. All of it. - We give it back?
- We do. - Farms, factories?
- Yeah. - Land reform?
I said we'll do it all, Herbert.
And we'll keep the Americans out.
Yes, of course.
What?
We will. We will.
I mean, obviously, yeah, we'll have to lift sanctions
somehow first, and stabilize the markets
to avoid total catastrophe, but after that, yes.
Yeah, we keep America out.
- You speak too many words. - I can do.
But go ahead, peer into my soul.
I have no reason to lie to you, Herbert.
And what about her?
What about her?
What will happen to her?
Well, I don't really know why you care, given how she's treated you.
But she'll have a fair trial,
so the people can see who she is, what she's done.
How it was me who felt their pain all along and not her.
And then, she'll get what's coming to her,
and she'll finally be gone.
Yeah?
What's that smell?
Oh, God. The car smells like a hog's urethra.
- Must be in Westgate. - Do you want a bit of scented oil?
Oh, yes, please. Thank you.
Thank you, my love.
I'm so sorry. I mean, the AC in this car
is not working as well as in the palace.
It's cranked to the fucking hilt, Nicky.
Is it really?
It's alright.
You have diagnosed perimenopause before, Doctor.
Yes, I suppose I have.
Aren't I a catch?
It's now one o'clock, let's join our Chancellor.
I want to hear my address.
- Can you turn the radio louder, please? - Louder!
My friends,
my loves.
Oh, how I long to be with you again.
To answer the mystery, what has become of our love?
We've let it wander.
Graceless minds, pushing each other away.
Hot-headed.
When really, we wish to be fused together
like a baby and its mother, skin on skin.
And so, I implore you,
don't shut me out.
Let me back in.
They look happy to see you.
He looks happy.
No, he's just happy because everyone knows that I came to him.
Deep breath.
- Try not to inhale too much. - Right.
Madam Chancellor. Silas Ganz, President of the Sugar Beet Union.
- I'm so honored you came all this way. - Please,
always happy to be amongst Westgaters.
- Hello, Westgate! - Hello.
Pleasure to be here!
Hello.
The first stage is actually the washing of the sugar beets
and then we cut them into cossettes
and I'll show you that in the next stage of the journey.
The smell is from the water content extracted from the sugar beets.
It's like a sort of dog turd smell.
Honestly, we're all so used to it now,
things that don't smell of dog turds smell awful to us.
300,000 hectares of sugar beet crop
from which we sell a little over four million tons of refined sugar.
At least that's our usual quota.
But if China keeps flooding the market,
the whole factory will be closed by Christmas.
If there's Chinese sugar in shops now
that's nearly half as cheap as ours, of course people'll buy that instead.
- Right, of course. - We're not stupid, ya know?
- No. - But if the plant shuts down,
I don't know how to do anythin' else.
- This is it. - Unless they're hiring in Guangzhou.
Please. If I may?
Yes?
Before I continue, I'd just like to say something.
I have the deepest sympathy for the poor woman and child
who perished in the protests, and why I'd like to take
a moment of silence to acknowledge them.
I will now embark on a series of listening tours
throughout the country to ensure that no further bloodshed transpires.
In addition, we will work to curb Chinese imports
of sugar to our shops.
Reforms will be put in place
to protect the rights of our sugar beet workers.
Westgate will rise again.
Yeah. Yeah.
Chancellor Vernham, a little something from us.
It's just a funny gift, really.
- A sugar beet for the palace garden. - Yeah.
But we can't thank you enough for today's conversation.
Very reasonable.
- We knew you'd see reason in the end. - Of course.
Get that fucking stinking,
sprouting fucking turd plant
out of my fucking face, Nicky!
Get me Mr. Laskin.
Yeah?
Let us do the talking. Pretend it's a family call.
You won't be surveilled where you are anyway.
Okay.
Chancellor Vernham's regime is going to be toppled.
Maybe not tomorrow, but it will happen.
If you remain in the palace, you and your son will be trapped.
You have to get out.
You can really help us?
Yes. We have contacts that can assist you.
I'm listenin'.
All we need from you is information on the inner circle.
Their day-to-day patterns, what they eat, who they speak with,
where they go at night, habits, movements.
But we can discuss all that later.
The most important thing is getting you and your son out.
Sir, I don't know who you are.
- Sorry? - I don't know who you are.
I'm loyal to my Chancellor.
You're a demon. Never call me again.
Listen to me--
What has become of our love?
We've let it wander.
Graceless minds.
Hot-headed.
Don't shut me out, my loves.
Mr. Laskin, I have uncovered evidence of a deeply troubling conspiracy.
I'd like you to send armed security forces
to the Sugar Beet Union offices in Westgate immediately.
Oh, let me back in.
Madam, are you saying you would like us
to uncover evidence of a troubling conspiracy?
No, you're saying that, not me.
So, then you're not saying
to plant guns and money in the union office?
No, you just said that. Your words, not mine.
I want to feel you feeling me.
Madam, if you do this, the protests will only spread.
Mr. Laskin, why don't you go and protect our country in that very special way
that only you know how to do.
Please, please.
I want it to finally happen.
Because I dream about fucking you.
Fuck!
Hey!
Herbert.
I cannot sleep.
- Well, let me-- - No, no, no, no.
I don't want to sleep.
No?
Since I met you,
whenever I sleep, one minute, five minute, one hour,
there's nothing.
You understand? It's empty.
No dream. No nothing.
Okay.
So, what are you saying?
It's like I'm dead in the ground.
Herbert, I do understand.
- Do you? - Yeah.
This is what she does.
She starves the brain of oxygen, information,
any kind of social reality.
It's what she does.
What the fuck are you talking about?
Okay, okay, okay, okay.
You're impatient. You're impatient for change.
- I get it, we all are. - Nah, look at me.
I don't love you.
- You don't have to love me. - Yes, I do.
I have to love you. And I would.
Look at me.
But I don't.
It's always exactly the same with you people, isn't it?
I see you now.
You refuse to choose what's best for you, don't you?
- I see you. - I can't help you, Herbert,
because you won't be helped.
You and your fucking book.
Well, maybe if you read it, you'd learn something.
But of course, you people don't wanna learn anything, do you?
You don't wanna help yourselves.
You just want to live in your fucking feelings.
You just want the dream.
No, I want her.
Yeah, yeah.
Butcher.
Well, you certainly got her attention.
Come on. Let's go.
Acting on reliable intelligence
from local and central law enforcement,
state security officers uncovered this week
a conspiracy of terrifying proportions within
the National Sugar Beet Growers Union.
Large stockpiles of weapons,
as well as sizable reserves of United States currency,
were discovered in the office of Union President Silas Ganz
during a targeted raid late last night.
In response, the Chancellor announced:
"The entire Westgate Protest Movement has been operating in secret
"with American intelligence for months
in an effort to subvert and overthrow my Chancellorship."
Vernham out! Vernham out!
As radicals in Westgate vow to avenge the arrest of Ganz,
military sources are warning of a protracted struggle
against armed insurgents bent on destruction.
It's going to get more and more violent now.
Let's hope so.
Attacking peaceful protesters makes me a monster.
Fighting off armed insurgents makes me a protector.
- Agnes? - Yes, Madam?
We'll need to devise new protocols.
Whatever you wish, Madam.
No Western electronics inside the palace. All Chinese.
Palace residents stay contained to the palace grounds,
yourself and Oskar included.
We're battening down the hatches.
What if there's an emergency with Oskar, Madam?
This is an emergency. Aren't you fucking listening?
Civil war may be imminent.
Oskar stays with me at all times.
My family is now at risk of assassination.
Yes, Madam.
It'll be alright, Agnes.
- Yes, Madam. - Don't you believe me?
I want to fuck you.
Yeah.
Hey!
What the--
No, don't stop. Keep going.
- Come on. - Lenny.
Don't look, don't look.
Lenny?
What will you do in the battle that awaits us to sustain our way of life?
To prove your love?
For in the words of our Chancellor, it is only love that can save us.
- Without love, we are lost forever. - Yes, yes!
Yes!