Power Connections in Putin’s Alaska


Alaska. A crater formed by mountains. A tall blond woman wakes up alone. The mountains are red, the sun has set. It is 3pm. She finds some steps down into the mountains. A diorama of the valley. A red pin marks her location. Downstairs. A cowboy bar. Drunk men collapsed. She walks outside. A small, black guy in a suit greets her. He looks like he’s waiting for a date. He does this often. This is the first time any woman has turned up. He shows her around the underground base, introducing her to people as his date. They laugh until they see her. She likes his humour and optimism, the fact he is right, and she loves seeing how pissed off people’s faces are when they see she’s real. 
I’m under a bridge with international officials. We are trying to get the European train moving. I ask Putin about rebel groups in the Ukraine. We agree that stability is best for everyone. I climb on board the train, splicing power lines together, improvising connections. The train begins to move. A friend is concerned about my wiring skills. He goes to check the connections. 

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