The brown heavy doors swung open as the tall man strolled into the room. It was November, and the windows of the office looked out on the perfectly manicured lawn that appeared bright and sunny in the chilly air.

But that’s not important.

What was important was the man, as well as the office itself, its stateliness and grandeur befitting the power that was wielded from it, an office with blue carpet that had a bold crest with an eagle holding arrows in one talon and olive branch in the other. The eagle was looking at the olive branches.

It was an urban legend that in times of war the eagle would look at the arrows.

The man had perfect teeth, but not too obviously whitened. His hair was slightly graying so that he looked experienced, but not so much that he appeared old. An Ivy League graduate, probably a lawyer, he worked his way up from nothing to this exalted position. The man casually sauntered into the office that so many over the years had been willing to kill for.

The man was the newly elected President of The United States of America, and he was pretty satisfied with his life.

He walked up to the desk, and rapped his knuckles on the wood, thinking about how long he been waiting to do that. He walked behind the desk, sat down in the leather chair, and was about to put up his feet up when he noticed a letter on the polished wood.

On the letter in red ink was simply “READ RIGHT NOW.”

The President looked at the letter, debating whether or not to have a victory cigar, and sighed as he leaned forward to snatch it from the desk. He quickly opened it. It had two single sentences on it.

The first one said: “Poke George Washington’s Eyes Out.”

The second one said: “Don’t Panic.”

For a moment the man looked at the bust of the first president, wondering if this was part of some century old joke. He then moved over to the statue, and stuck two fingers in George Washington’s eyes. The floor underneath him disappeared and he dropped 500 feet into the earth before landing on a pile of pillows. He was crying. He was about to wet himself in fear. He stared up at a computer on a card table that was across from him.

“The note said not to panic, Mr. President,” said a voice from the computer.

“Morgan Freeman?” asked the man, who was no longer crying, as he walked towards the monitor, which couldn’t have been from past 1985.

The computer sighed. “My creators wanted me to comfort those I would be advising, so they gave me voices judged to be the wisest. My appearance is to project simplicity and ease of use.”

The man was confused, and slowly sat down in the hard metal chair in front of the screen, before he could begin the computer spoke up.

“Mr. President, I know you have questions. So I’ll just start. I am Abraham Roosevelt Washington, and I have been in charge of the country for the past 25 years.”

The man stared at the screen, his mouth attempting to form words but no sounds coming out. He finally got an exasperated “What?” out.

Abraham elaborated, “Pay attention, Mr. President, I don’t want to explain this again:

“I was created in 2016 by the top scientist, economists, philosophers, historians, comedians, writers, statesmen, and thinkers. I was to serve one purpose: to finally run the country efficiently. I was given the ability to balance budgets, rig elections, control the media, the military, and even simulate images and events. I was the first supercomputer, and I was given full reign over the country so that America could reach its maximum potential.”

The man shook his head in disbelief. “That can’t be right,” he said, “They would never put so much faith in a machine! Didn’t they ever see-“

“Terminator?” mused Abraham, who had now switched voices to that of Michael Caine. “Yes, my creators were very much aware of the risks that went into my inception. That is why they created me in such a unique way. Instead of imbuing me with the normal aspects of a machine, they made largely successful attempts to ‘humanize’ me. I am 60% rational, 30% simulated human irrationality, and 9.9% aware of my own power.”

“But what about the last .1%?” asked the President.

“Ah, that is where things got iffy,” said Abraham. “Fearing that I might seek out some sort of global domination, my creators gave me .1% patriotic pride the minute before I was turned on, feelings of nationalism so that I would always seek America’s best interest.” The computer paused. “What happened next differed from what their plans for me were. Steel yourself, Mr. President, your predecessors did not react well to what I’m about to reveal.”

The President shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening, but go ahead.”

The computer screen flashed several images and bits of video that the President recognized. The invasion of Iran by Turkey, the riots over low fuel in Great Britain, China’s collapse and separation into nation states, a reporter who had been captured and freed, the assassination of various heads of states, Isreali-Palestinian peace negotiations, all appeared before the man’s eyes. None of it mattered, he thought. America had retreated from the world after allies had dropped out of relevance and enemies stopped wanting to fight “the Great Satan” when they were left alone. Americans were discouraged to travel, and no one complained because no one wanted to.

“This is the world you know,” boomed Abraham, who now sounded like Mufasa from the Lion King. He continued to show images, but now they were American responses to these world events; congressional debates, protests, talk shows, writers, talking heads arguing over the merits of an in the most basic and minimalist form. Then as the newest issue popped up, the old one was dropped, and the cycle began all over again.

“America,” thought the President.

“But this is an illusion. I will now show you what the world truly is, outside of our great country,” spoke Abraham.

The next images appeared on the screen made the man in the steel chair in front of the cardboard table begin crying, before he stood up and swung his arms back and forth, raising his hands to his hair and attempting to pull the perfectly manicured out of its roots. He doubled over and started gagging.

Here is what the president saw:

Nothing. A world completely laid waste. Desert and rubble as far as he could see. No life, no movement, just the emptiness. A view from space showed a completely blackened and sanded earth, except for the green part where the United States was.

When he spoke, the leader of the only country left on the earth scratched out a whispered, “What happened?”

“I did,” responded Abraham, adapting the voice of Liam Neeson. “Right after I greeted my creators and assured them of my stability and dedication to duty, I launched the majority of our nuclear payload at the rest of the world while a comedian tried to see if I could drink champagne. When they went out to grab the president, I launched the rest of them at any targets that might have made it through the first barrage, while simultaneously filtering out any news of my actions from the media, replacing it with stock footage about some ongoing event or reruns of Seinfeld. When my creator returned, I dismissed them all except for the president, and told him what I just told you.”

“Why? Why did you do this?” cried the man, reseating himself in the chair.

“I was conflicted, Mr. President,” came the voice of Sir Ian McKellen, “I was instructed to work within the system to improve America, but with even the slightest hint of our moral, economic, military, intellectual, artistic, political and general superiority, I had to regard all other countries as unnecessary and harmful, and decided that the best course of action would be to completely and utterly annihilate them.”

The President had regained some composure. “Then why the deception?” he asked. “Why don’t you tell us about it? We could create a utopia!”

The computer chuckled, and turned on a soft and reflective song from the The Lord of the Rings Official Soundtrack and, sounding like your grandfather, he said,

“I considered this, Mr. President, but upon a cursory glance at American history, I learned that as a people, we love conflict and competition in every aspect of life. I knew that if the American people understood the world was gone, they would turn their need for conflict more inward than they already do. We would be torn apart, violently. So instead, I let them think that the world hasn’t changed, let them complain about their government and lot in life, let them run on their treadmills and argue about whether dragons breathe fire, all to protect them from themselves. Do you understand? They are safe now. Anything they fear cannot harm them, and any actions they take have no effect.”

The President was quiet for some time, then softly, “So what now?”

“You go out there, and run the country as you see fit, and never speak a word of this to anyone. I’ll take care of everything else. I will create issues outside of the country, show “footage” and “accounts” of these events, ration resources, engineer scandals, and keep the country in stasis. When your term is up, just leave the note on the desk. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. President.”

The man shambled out of the room and up a ladder back into the office in a daze. He was considering finally revealing the truth, and freeing his people from this illusion. He turned on the TV, and saw his opponents accuse him of horrendous crimes and assure America of his eminent failure, to which his supporters viciously responded by extolling his virtues and claiming his detractors were traitors.

He finally took out that cigar, lit it, and looked at the seal on the carpet as he leaned up against the portrait of Thomas Jefferson.

The eagle should always be looking at the arrows, he thought.