Once in his previous life Andrei interviewed a famous bauld politician then as usual he was invited to dinner.
There in cozy environment he casually asked how he was able to survive so many political disasters. He said,
Haha well Mr Roy since it's you I tell you my secret, I do nothing and I win how is that ha? Hahaha.
Andrei wanted to thank the bald guy.
"Haha, well, Mr. Roy, since it's you, I'll tell you my secret." He winked. "I do nothing. And I win. How is that, ha? Hahaha."
And now, watching the newly elected American president Bill Clinton give his famous speech, Andrei can't help but to remember him.
He sighed in relief.
At least nothing major would happen for three months.
---
Andrei was getting restless lately. For the first time, many within the regime were questioning his decisions. Not exactly aimed at him,no one was stupid enough for that, but the anger was obvious. The Americans were showing off their moves against the usual Soviet proxies, and the Soviet Union didn't stand up to protect the girls.
Ironically, Andrei had just achieved one of his foreign policy goals.
President Bush invaded Iraq.
Yes, you heard that right. Andrei's foreign policy goal was to cuck himself.
Though that wasn't the intention, it certainly appeared that way to every other nation on Earth. Even with full guarantee of the Soviets, the Americans and their "Coalition of the Willing" invaded Iraq with a spectacular victory.
Andrei claimed the guarantee was only defensive. Saddam invaded Kuwait first. He was not responsible. The fine print was clear. Never mind that no one had read the fine print.
"Oh, come on," Andrei muttered to his empty office. "Can't you let me kill Americans in peace?"
If the Americans are not bogged down in the melting Furness called middle East how else he'll get to have the opportunity to put back the eastern Europeans in chains.
He felt like a hardworking Asian father grinding away at the office while his children squandered his efforts on stupidity.
Also he had to endure the trolling from the world over was quite unbearable.
"Hmp. Tsar? More like German Shepherd."
"The Soviet leader is all talk. Clearly he hasn't grown any balls yet."
"First he abandons Afghanistan, now Iraq. Next he'll abandon Moscow."
Andrei read the headlines, he had to break several American made products to relieve himself.
Unknown to him, it was kind of his doing. He had forced President Bush to look for an opportunity to look tough just before the election. The Munich appeasement was one thing but what really riled the American public was the passive-aggressive photos of the two world leaders.
Whenever they were together, Andrei, a veteran photographer from his reporting days, made sure to make Bush look inept.
Like when the leaders were coming down the stairs. Andrei made sure to be in front, just a half-step ahead, so the photos made it look like he was leading the American president. Like a teacher guiding a confused student.
In another, Andrei brought Natasha along. The three of them stood together for a photo op. Bush standing off to the side, stiff, alone, looking like an unwanted third wheel at someone else's anniversary party.
Bush had his usual stiff smile and his usual political dress. Despite being shorter, he never let it appear in the photo.
Andrei was flamboyant, open collar, tailored jacket, the kind of casual confidence that said completely outshined the old man.
Obviously, the opposition latched onto this weakness. Bush's chief rival, a young governor from Arkansas named Bill Clinton, attacked him relentlessly.
"George Bush lets a teenager push him around," Clinton said on live television. "How's he supposed to handle the country? How's he supposed to handle the Russians? The man's too old for this modern world."
The election of 1992 was the most unusual and chaotic in living memory. A major third-party candidate played the spoiler. All the candidates scrambled to find useless problems to attack each other.
In the end, history didn't change. Bill Clinton secured a narrow victory.
---
"Hey, it's me, Bill. We'll be knowing each other for a while, I reckon."
The first phone call between the leaders of the two superpowers went surprisingly well.
Andrei found himself actually liking the man. The kind of politician who made you forget he was a politician.
What Andrei didn't know, couldn't know, was that Bill Clinton looked at him as some sort of senior in the messy business of running a country.
Clinton had observed Andrei's rise with fascination. How he had demolished the old guard.
How he had created a loyal cult willing to go along with him regardless of how many taboos he broke.
Clinton wanted to replicate it for himself. The Democratic Party was full of fossils. They needed to be cleared out. Which perfectly aligned with Andrei's interests, as those fossils also happened to be the cold warriors and warmongers.
Also, for the first time in his political life, Bill Clinton felt he had met a kindred soul.
"Did you see that Latina on *Miss Bodyguard* last week?"
Andrei was momentarily speechless. Not even in his craziest schemes had he thought the President of America would be a loyal viewer of his pimp show.
Clinton laughed. "Your people are too conservative. If it weren't for the votes, America, I'd make it happen."
Then again, Bill Clinton was like that, Andrei mused.
---
They talked for a while. Mostly about de-escalation and defining spheres of influence.
The end result wasn't good. After half a century of struggle, one could definitely say capitalism had won. But even in defeat, Andrei managed to make a chivalrous exit.
The USA would have its unipolar hegemony. The Soviets would be a second-rate power.
Bill Clinton was happy. After all, he would basically be the emperor without any fight. This also allowed him to look at Andrei in a more favorable light.
Both agreed to finalize it the next year. After all, this was for bureaucrats to handle.
"Your Excellency, is it over?"
Putin, who had recorded the call, set down and looked up. The two of them faced each other in silence as well as the entire room.
"Comrade Vladimir, you know just as well as I do just how pointless and thankless a job it is to build a utopia. Human nature itself is evil. How can we mere mortals overcome it? If the Americans want to play God, let them."
Andrei got up and walked to the window. He looked out over Red Square, filled with tourists from all over the world. He turned back to the room. The old hardliners were watching him. The young reformers too.
"Don't worry too much, though," Andrei continued. "This is not an enemy our forefathers faced and failed to defeat. In order to defeat us, they sold their souls to the devil. When the hounds of neoliberalism come to devour her children, the people of this world will wake up from the dream. Until then, twenty years, to be exact we have to survive. We must protect this flame. It'll only require one spark to burn down this world."
The entire room was silent. Even the old hardliners couldn't help but stare at Andrei.
Andrei, on the other hand, was just as surprised as everyone else.
He had no idea where that had come from.
All he had wanted was to say something rubbish to fool them.
But his future memories had provided something else. Something that sounded almost... prophetic.
"Sir," Putin said, breaking the silence. "Long live."
"Long live his excellency!"
"Long live the Union!"
Soon the entire room was chanting. Even the old men who had doubted him.
"Alright, alright, get your horses down," he said. "Our future was never in the West. They are corrupted beyond any measure. Our future is the East."