Shyloh was looking to the future. Regionalism was on the rise in the country with the second largest land mass on the globe, and couldn’t be denied whether you thought the whole was greater than the sum of its parts or not. Forces of nationalism had been rekindled in Quebec and the cost of appeasing the separatistes was alienating the west. Drought, the resulting crop devastation and the market decline for fossil fuels had gutted the prairie provinces forcing a large migration to British Columbia and Ontario. After a brief economic resurgence because of offshore oil the four Maritime provinces once again were surviving on handouts from the federal government.
Then there were external problems. Illegal immigrants were infiltrating the country at an alarming rate. Asian snakeheads landed them on the beaches, smugglers lead them over mountains and through forests to cross the border to escape the escalating violence and societal breakdown as the United States of America imploded and the failed state of Mexico spiraled into chaos.
The federal government refused to acknowledge the problem. No problem, no funds for settlement programs, healthcare, housing, security, detainment, deportation.
The only parts of the country holding their own were the west and central Canada and they were forty-four hundred kilometres apart.
The seat of power was still in Ottawa, Ontario. The government of the day staunchly federalists, but how long the dream of “Mari usque ad Mare” would last was anyone’s guess.
Already there was a growing political movement to take BC out of confederation. Cascadia would be a country bordered by the Pacific Ocean and the Rocky Mountains, Alaska and Washington State.
The secession could be peaceful or bloody, but it would come, of that Shyloh was sure. With change came danger but also opportunity. He wanted the Triumvirate to be ready. A member high in the military would be an asset, a powerful one.
“When do you have to report?”
“In two weeks.” Judith stepped toward him. “Will you do something for me?”
“Visit Taalia more frequently. I can’t fly across the country on weekends.”
“Yes.” Shyloh was often denied a visit because Judith wouldn’t allow them to spend time together with the child, she said it sent mixed messages. He’d miss the mother but it would be more than made up for by visits with his daughter.
Judith squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish