Somewhere a man emerged from the shallow ocean waves and slumped down on the beach when his burning muscles gave out. With one hand he clutched a waterproof plastic bag so tightly that his knuckles stood out white. In that bag laid a camera, unscathed by the hell it had been through.
The man wept. Never before had he felt so profoundly happy to be alive. After hours, he managed to finally stand up. He needed to find internet access.
A warm, soothing rain fell down in Brussels. There was a collective sigh of relief in the city when the dark, rolling clouds finally charged the air with voltage and promised to bring a refreshing respite from the summer heat.
An employee hurried out into this rain. He was wearing neither an umbrella nor a suit - both of which he had carelessly left in the so-called Triangle Building. The thick raindrops briskly soaked his white shirt and neatly tied back hair, but regardless, he ran across the Rond-point Robert Schuman and onto the Rue de la Loi / Wetstraat, ignoring four cars whose occupants honked after him. At the stately, star-shaped, and fully greened façade of the Berlaymont Building, the security guards almost stopped the approaching man before he waved them aside with pass cards.
Fifteen minutes later, the European Parliament and Council were summoned to emergency sessions.
Chancellor Laurens van Jaarsveld sat quietly in his office chair. He had turned to the window behind his wooden desk, hands folded in his lap, and watched the raindrops trickle down the fogged window. This unexpected bad weather had been hanging over northwestern Europe for days. Gently, he reached out a hand and rubbed away the fogging with the sleeve of his jacket to peek outside.
Outside, ministers and ambassadors rang off the hook and hardly a minute went by without some door opening and closing again. Most sensitive messages were no longer uttered with that instinctive tactfulness, but answered impatiently and briskly, only to be placed on another pile somewhere.
Van Jaarsveld drew his mobile phone from his pocket but didn't glance at it for another few moments. When he did, he realized that the video was still open. Acting on a hunch, he checked the statistics. One billion likes and three times as many views. The video had paused on a shot of a blue sky over a burning forest. Clearly visible and razor-sharp, a Kaiju towered over the scene.
Van Jaarsveld looked down at his other hand, realizing it was grabbing the armrest of the chair. Slowly and very deliberately, he loosened the grip and laid down his palm once again. Now, it was shaking.
The European External Action Service received a meticulously prepared e-mail. It courteously announced a Japanese ambassadorial attaché, who arrived an hour later in a staff car. He stepped out and handed over a folder to the attendant, who - this time - wore both an umbrella and a suit jacket. They exchanged stern gazes, abstained from polite gestures and pleasantries, and parted again.
It had been raining for days now. Notwithstanding, a protest march with tens of thousands marched through the Rue Balliard towards the Place du Luxembourg.
The next day, someone knocked on a door in the Berlaymont.
Without waiting for an answer, Martin Radnitz - the Chancellor's Office Secretary - stuck his black mop of hair in. His eyes sunken in with fatigue he looked much older than the eager man in his mid-thirties he was.
"Are you alright Laurens?"
Van Jaarsveld almost laughed. Almost. He suddenly realized how tired he felt himself.
"Why do you ask?", he demanded instead.
The German stepped fully into the room and closed the door, his hand remaining on the handle. "You slapped the American ambassador in the face… In front of the press."
Van Jaarsveld leaned his head back. "God that felt good."
Dread and amusement visibly wrestled with each other in Radnitz. "Good old Jean Claude Juncker fashion?"
They both chuckled.
Radnitz sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. For a little time, the only audible sounds came from behind the door. A stream of messages and communiqués as steady as the rain outside.
"I'm the Chancellor of Europe.", Van Jaarsfvld finally said, prompting Radnitz to snap out of his thoughts. "And I'm sitting around in the Berlaymont, while America fucking invades New Zealand!" He almost screamed the last words.
With deepest frustration, he tossed the phone on the table, the scene still clearly visible.
"You know what really gets to me?" His voice almost cracked, as the head of state suddenly felt like he didn't have an ounce of energy left in his tired body.
"The audacity of it all.", Radnitz replied.
Van Jaarsveld forced himself to smile at his friend and nodded. "You know me too well."
Radnitz nodded as welöl and smiled. But he didn't avert his eyes like he usually did when receiving a compliment. Instead, he almost stared at his boss.
"What is it?"
"Novakovic will arrive in Brussels in two days. I have the schedule. Hearing at the EP at ten am, Press conference at 2 pm, and meeting with you at 3."
He laid down a paper with the respective details on the desk. They both knew Van Jaarsveld wouldn't read it, as the short report already detailed everything he had to know. But out of courtesy, he looked at it regardless.
James Novakovic was the journalist whose video reportage on the American invasion of New Zealand had plunged the world into political chaos. The man had already had quite the reputation as an enemy of corrupt Kaiju corporations. Apparently, he had made it his grand mission to fight against Kaiju related injustice, sneaking into facilities and entire landscapes occupied by conglomerates, uncovering human rights violations and the destruction of the environment, yet managing to escape unscathed every time. Van Jaarsveld didn't know whether Novakovic had happened to be in New Zealand when hell broke loose by chance or whether he had somehow obtained intel the European secret services didn't catch. But his close-up reports from the front lines in the earliest hours prompted mass protests in Europe within hours.
"Good." Van Jaarself decided. "But that's not everything."
It wasn't a question and this time, Radnitz avoided looking the Chancellor into the eye. "No." He steadied himself. "Nariaki requested a personal meeting."
Van Jaarsveld sighed and raised a hand to rub his temples. "Half the world wants a meeting with me now."
"That's not everything. The Japanese embassy sent us a non-paper." Radnitz produced said paper and handed it over.
The office went half-silent again, while Radnitz waited for his boss to take in the details of the Japanese inquiry. The dry laughing Van Jaarsveld let out then was not the response he'd expected.
"Please let the Japanese ambassador know that I am very much surprised she does not seem to have understood Europe's position on Kaiju-warfare."
"Your position, Laurens."
"The government thanks you for your memo."
"Are we not even going to think about it?"
Only now did Van Jaarsveld raise his head up again. "What now?" He didn't give his minister a chance to answer. "I. Said. No."
"We're losing our grip on the South Pacific by the minute. Stamatis thinks it's a good proposal. Do you know what he said to me when he had it on his desk? He said: 'Go to the Chancellor and tell him the Foreign Minister said the Chancellor likes this proposal'."
There was a special kind of underlying sharpness in his tone that Van Jaarsveld reserved for special occasions: "Tell Stamatis then that he should refrain from such statements should he be inclined to remain my foreign minister."
"There's more", Radnitz pressed.
"Good lord…"
"Our faction in the EP has gotten a hold of the non-paper too. And they will ask Novakovic about his opinion on the matter."
A hot-cold jolt rushed through the Chancellor's spine, the instinctive reaction of a political animal that senses danger. "Who leaked it?"
"I don't know. Probably the ambassador herself."
Out of sheer frustration, Van Jaarsveld punched a hole into the air. "They won't do it in front of the cameras." He didn't sound as stern as he'd liked to and cursed himself.
"No…", replied Radnitz carefully. "But Novakovic might write about this. And you can be damn sure the other factions will take on this idea and promote it in the parliament. It's gonna be a shitshow."
The Chancellor steadied himself and rested his elbows on the desk. After a few moments of careful consideration, he said: "Alright. Let them."
"Laurens…"
This time, it was the desk the fist landed on. "Manufacturing new bio war Kaiju to help New Zealand and Australia against America is not an option!"
Finally, Radnitz lost his composure. "But taking on millions of refugees is or what? Letting America get through with this is an option? What kind of fucking foreign policy is this Laurens?"
Van Jaarsveld leaned forward as if to strike. "Europe is a federation of countries which agreed to unite for peace, Martin. For peace! While the world was drowned in bio-conduits and scrap, we regulated the hell out of the Kaiju to prevent exactly these war machines from ever walking on our continent…"
"The public demands that…"
"The public - Martin - is out on the streets protesting like hell because they feel the pressure. They feel how democracies are failing, how the world falls to the Kaiju economy like it's a drug. Everyone knows this war is the next domino to fall to greed and frenzy. But don't you dare tell the masses what an intervention would truly mean, because I tell you what - that means facing American Kaiju. As long as the people get to be angry, democracy lives, but moving against America means death. We fucked the planet once ourselves, but this time, we have the Kaiju to do it for us. You know where my philosophy comes from."
Radnitz clenched his fists. "I do."
"Then you also know why Europe will not participate in that war. I'm not going to advocate for sacrificing the last remaining island of peace and humanitarianism on this world when we can stay out of it."
"Are you still not willing to even consider Kaiju might possibly be a necessary addition to our defenses even now?"
"I'm quite confident in our satellites, yes."
"No one would even know we helped out in the South Pacific!"
"You damn well know my position on Kaiju and where it comes from."
Van Jaarsveld's fist was clenched around the armrest again. He let it because the Chancellor didn't know what it would do should he remove it.
"So let's just hand over some solar panels and Housing-Kaiju to our allies! Oh yeah, that's gonna help keep our reputation as a global player."
Radnitz's voice was so full of bitterness, Van Jaarsveld was actually taken aback. His hand loosened.
"Martin…", he managed to say in an almost calm tone. "What is it?"
Suddenly, the young, talented politician visibly grit his teeth and seemed to barely hold back tears. His face contorted. "I have good friends in New Zealand… Old colleagues… Have you ever been on the phone with someone who fears they might die the next minute?"
An awkward silence followed and again, the busy noises of desperation and attempts for control were the only faint sounds audible.
Finally, Van Jaarsveld managed to utter: "I'm not going to let the Kaiju off the leash, Martin."
Radnitz stood up and quoted Joschka Fischer: "Mr. President, respectfully, you are an asshole."
Then he turned around and left.
Two and a half years later, the debate over the South Pacific War reached new heights in Europe. It became increasingly clear that after New Zealand, Australia would also fall into America's hands. Images and footage of the US Kaiju were omnipresent, and one couldn't pass by a Brussels café without overhearing a debate on the subject. The increasing number of refugees taken in by Europe further fueled the discussions, and social fronts hardened, as they always do when crises drive people into fear and frustration.
The rejection of Kaiju in Europe triggered a wave of vandalism, to the extent that the destruction caused by agricultural Kaiju even impacted the Gross National Product of the Federal European Republic, while counterprotests in favor of building European war Kaiju were soon to follow.
International cooperation reached a historic low, while Kaiju fights and virtual reality offered escapes and distractions more and more people willingly consumed, just to not have to think about the shithole humanity had managed to form earth into.
And during that whole time, Chancellor Laurens Van Jaarsveld remained steadfast in his policy. He fiercely defended Europe's neutrality in the face of what humans could do to each other and resisted the rising number of allies who pressed for a stronger position with a might that sometimes felt like it should have been beyond human capacity - even to himself. And each time he felt his inner strength waiver, Van Jaarsveld only had to look at the intelligence reports, the publicly debated videos of Kaiju rampaging through towns and forests alike, to hold fast.
Until a day no one ever heard about.
Van Jaarsveld sat down on the bench and sighed. He had noticed he did that a lot as of late but he had also stopped wondering why he wasn't already numb to it all, why sighs kept coming and coming out of him.
The winter air was cool and soothing, a nice change to the dry office air, almost invigorating. In the distance, Brussels traffic hummed, the occasional siren passing by faintly. Security personnel in uniform stood nearby, just close enough to reach the leader of Europe should anything unforeseen happen, but far away enough to create an illusion of privacy. But the area was deserted.
Van Jaarsveld took the scene in while he thought. He couldn't even remember when he'd last seen a winter sky that blue. Only then he realized the large housing Kaiju, far in the distance. Europe had specialized in renewable energies and various areas of high tech a century ago but unlike the rest of the world, didn't take on Kaiju quite as openly. Especially since the war. Only agriculture, construction, and housing saw the use of big Kaiju.
Van Jaarsveld watched as the four-legged behemoth carried its public housing project through the outskirts of Brussels, which were perfectly fitted to accommodate the machine, a coat hanger of a walking bio-machine. After some time, Van Jaarsveld suddenly noticed he was staring intently, his face slowly but surely losing the fight to a grimace of anger. He composed himself. He wasn't here for that.
As if to reassure himself, the top politician pulled his phone out and glanced at the latest news article from James Novakovic. Every time he did so, Van Jaarsveld couldn't help but think "How's that bastard still alive?" or something along those lines. He actually liked the man. When they first met two years ago, the first thing Novakovic had done was walk up to him and firmly ask him to do something.
"I threw myself into the ocean to escape the US Kaiju.", he'd said. "And I'd do it again if that's what it takes to convince you."
Novakovic didn't convince him. He spoke with the open heart and political cluelessness of a righteous man. And despite his remarkable ability to describe the horrors of war without compromise, he didn't know about all the committees, the public scrutiny, and the political actors waiting to take a stab for a controversial move. He also didn't know about Van Jaarsveld's background. Instead, he published some harsh but fair critiques of European foreign policy. Van Jaarsveld was less than bothered and sometimes - when his staff approached him about the famous journalist's latest criticism - he'd shrug and say something about press freedom.
But not last month. Then, he said nothing, while both his hands grit down on the armrests of his office chair.
Novakovic somehow managed to get an interview with American forces and even some of their prisoners, two of which became the headline of that report. With astonishing tactfulness yet journalistic precision, he interviewed two children - or rather the older one taking care of his baby sister - who were left without a home or parents after the raiding of a village. The touching interview quickly went viral and the worn-out, empty faces emerged as symbols of freedom and democracy in Europe. Of course, Van Jaarsveld made attempts to get the Americans to hand the children - and the other prisoners for that matter - over to Europe, but the request was still pending and subject to intense negotiation.
The Chancellor sighed again. He wasn't here to dwell in his own dark thoughts. He was here for an apology.
"You know," he said, finally overcoming the lump in his throat, "I don't think I ever told anyone the whole story. You, of course, know what happened, but that alone isn't enough to understand my philosophy, is it…" He hesitated, rubbing his hands restlessly against each other. "It's not easy for me to talk about… I always just tell people that my family was never wealthy. I say we always got by just fine, and compared to the rest of the world, I really can't complain. A European typical household. I played soccer instead of marveling at Kaiju, and as I grew older, I slowly realized how fortunate I was to be born here. The press digs that…"
Gently, Van Jaarsveld reach out and placed his hand on the cold, rough surface of the gravestone, only for a moment.
"On the day that malfunctioning Construction-Kaiju rampaged through Maastricht, single-handedly destroying everything that wasn't bolted down… Well, you were there. Sometimes, when the memory comes back and I can hardly keep my composure, I really just hope you didn't have to hear your own skulls shatter, 'cause I damn well know what a profoundly dreadful sound that is." He sniffed, almost surprised to find that he didn't have it in him to cry. So he continued, "Well, you know the ending. I was left without parents and, on top of that, had PTSD."
He paused a long time.
"It's one thing to know what Kaiju can do. But witnessing it is another. I tried to do something good with that pain. If there are to be European Kaiju, we'll put a leash on them, that's what I always said. We even made posters with that slogan back in the day." He looked down at the ground. "I know you've never been very political but I thought I should tell you regardless." He breathed in and out. "I'm going to do it. I'll agree with Japan and provide them with our expertise. I'm going to lead Europe into a damn conspiracy to supply Australia with the perfect new Bio-Kaiju… I'll drop the leash and let the Kaiju do the one thing I swore to never let them do, goddamn."
This time, he paused even longer.
"I could go into all the details… Japan's own interest in expanding its sphere of influence against China, preserving democracy in the South Pacific, and our own interest in exporting scrap to Australia. But in the end, it's just a leash that can never be put back on. It's Pandora's Kaiju and that's what I feel really guilty about… You know what's funny? That report by Novakovic is what got to me. Quite a cliché, isn't it? The statesman is being swayed by a heartwarming report about two children who became victims of war." He laughed. "Maybe that's what I'll tell the press one day if the public ever finds out we were involved. The truth is, I can't shake off that look. The eyes of that child. Because it reminds me of myself on that street in Maastricht. And now, those photos are everywhere, and I just can't take it anymore, I… I don't want to be in that place anymore."
He glanced at the grave. "I hope you can forgive me. I know I can't."
Van Jaarsveld felt as if everything had been said, so he stood up and then turned to leave. He was already late for the cabinet meeting.