See the stars on my uniform? I work at the Pentagon, very high up. I was there on the day the plane crashed into the building. I’m sworn to protect the American people and I’m determined to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again.
We’ve got to stay alert, track down every suspicious lead, crush every potential threat before it becomes an attack. That’s my job. I take it seriously. No exceptions.
I worked for Dick Cheney. I respect the man. I even dreamed about him last night. I had a fitful night and awoke in a cold sweat.
I know it was only a dream, but you know how truly powerful a dream can be. This dream was one of those.
As you know, Dick has had a few problems with his heart. In fact, he’s had it replaced with a mechanical device, a really advanced one. In the dream, Syrian hackers allied with ISIS hacked into Cheney’s computerized mechanical heart. Then, the let him know they could stop his heart at will and they warned him to keep that a secret—or else. They also threatened to reveal that Dick is gay.
Then, they pumped him for information. Now, Dick’s been out of office for some time. He doesn’t get official briefings anymore. But he’s got a good memory and he’s got friends who know things.
In the dream, the Syrians were getting information from Dick, information about America’s vulnerabilities, information that might prepare the way for a devastating attack. Our country was in grave danger of crippling losses.
Now, I’m not stupid. I understand that this was only a dream. But it was a dream that raised the possibility, a small possibility, of an actual threat.
We’re talking about what Dick calls a “low-probability, high-impact event.” It may sound crazy, but if there’s even a 1% chance the threat is real, we’ve got to take action as if it was a certainty.
That’s why I’ve ordered Cheney to be picked up and flown to Guantanamo. We’ll be water boarding him and getting answers. But we won’t leave any marks. We’re Americans. We don’t do torture.