Forever a Mouse

God, it took long enough, but I have finally completed Chapter 6: A Mouse in the Perfect Trap. For some odd reason, it is full of allusions to the first book. Ralph relives Mark's death. Something goes wrong in California. He decides to go to California. He sees Orion. He plays the part of the mouse. And, perhaps most happily of all, the conspiracy finally comes out. Because it is, by far, the most interesting part of the chapter, that is what I shall paste.

“How surprised,” it was her turn to match his calmness, “would you be if I told you that the Red National Army has sleeper cells in California?”
Ralph did not make a noise. It should have surprised him immensely, but it did not surprise him at all. His calm remained in tact as the puzzle pieces fell into place. Connections that had trouble his subconscious for twenty damn months suddenly made sense. He saw flashing was Robert Davidson had resigned—why the RNA had bombed San Francisco—why California and the others had seceded—why all the tragic events of those twenty damn months had come to pass. It hadn’t been random chance, random chaotic chance—hadn’t even been one catalytic cataclysm that set in place that tragic series of events. No, it had not been beautiful, random chaos but cold, calculated order and cosmos. It had always been as put together as that itch in the back of his head had thought. There was a reason why he had become the Vice President, and perhaps even why he had become the President. Surely every event was significant to the plot, even Mark’s assassination. It was such a marvelous plan, he reflected, and it had worked so brilliantly, so perfectly, that it had taken twenty damn months for anyone to realize the trap that Robert Davidson had laid.
“You see it too, then?” Felicity asked ruefully at his silence.
“Yes,” he returned very quietly. “Robert Davidson made a plan with Ai Mengrui. He wanted power, always had, but he knew that he could not compete with Mark Adams. He knew that California could be driven to do just about anything. He guessed that calculated chaos could drive the state to the breaking point and force secession. He figured that, if he were Governor of California, he could be his own President. He bet everything on his cousin’s ability to pull off a successful terrorist attack. He arranged for Governor Pierce’s rather convenient death. He resigned as Vice President in January, assuming that Mark Adams would pick a meek replacement as Vice President—someone who would do his bidding without questioning. He got his Governorship and waited. All he had to do then was wait—wait for Ai Mengrui and the RNA to drop their pretty little hydrogen bomb on Davidson’s own city. He did, and California got mad, just as he had expected. The state seceded, with some company. He got his cushy little Presidency and waited. Soon enough, an assassin, most likely hired by him, murdered Mark Adams. Soon I, the meek Vice President, end up in the big chair in the Oval Office.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing exactly what he wanted. He knew I would keep fighting his fake country, knew that I would disillusion the American public, and knew that whoever ran against me this year on a Free California platform would win.” His soul splintered farther than he had known possible. He was the enabler of history, the enabler of tragedy. He had been played, and in doing what he thought was right, he had allowed everything to come to this point and to get so terribly out of hand. He was responsible for everything that had happened since that horrid oath, he knew, and he would be responsible for everything that would come to pass. He would be responsible for what was sure to be a frightening regime under Erikson. He would be responsible for China’s collapse. He would be responsible for enabling Davidson and allowing his evil plan to succeed.
“It’s not your fault, Ralph,” Felicity answered his thoughts quietly. “You have responded to circumstances the only way you could. You have done all the right things. If you hadn’t fought Davidson, he’d have won anyways. Don’t you see, Ralph? It was a lose-lose situation—the perfect trap.”
“No trap’s perfect, Felicity.”
“Ralph, you aren’t perfect either. No one in the entire country had any idea what was going on. He fooled us all. You are simply human. Don’t be bothered by that fact, and don’t beat blame yourself for it—for your humanity or for history.”