The Global Leaders Summit in Geneva was packed tighter than Janet's emergency Xanax drawer.
One by one, world leaders filed in—grim, curious, confused. The topic? The sudden, meme-fueled unification of the United States and Canada.
I stood backstage, calmly sipping maple cola. My heart wasn't racing. My hands weren't shaking. Somehow, I'd become the guy who could accidentally start a war, end it with a livestream, and walk into a summit acting like it was all a strategic masterstroke.
Janet paced beside me. "Blake, don't improvise."
"I never do."
"You always do."
Josh burst in. "Uh… the Call of Duty clip leaked."
"What clip?"
"The one where you signed the ceasefire while sniping players on Rust."
"…Oh."
"And they added dubstep."
---
The room fell quiet as I stepped onto the stage.
I adjusted my tie, nodded to the Secretary-General, and approached the podium with the quiet confidence of someone who didn't fully understand how he got here—but was going to pretend he did.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said. "I know things escalated faster than a Reddit thread about pineapple on pizza."
The room didn't laugh.
Tough crowd.
I cleared my throat. "Let's address the flaming elephant in the room. Yes, that was me playing Call of Duty while signing the ceasefire. And yes, I got a 3.0 K/D ratio during the match. Thank you for noticing."
A ripple of murmurs. A few stifled chuckles. Finland gave me a thumbs up.
"But let's talk about what didn't happen," I continued. "No nukes were launched. No cities fell. Civilians lived. The war ended in 72 hours with minimal casualties. And we avoided mutual annihilation—while the previous president once almost started World War III over a typo."
---
France raised her hand, her expression frosty. "President Blake, don't you think merging two sovereign nations warrants more than... gamer reflexes and memes?"
"Absolutely," I said. "It also takes political courage, lightning-fast crisis management, and enough caffeine to kill a moose. Fortunately, I had all three."
England leaned forward. "You seriously expect the world to accept this... snack-based superstate?"
Josh popped up helpfully. "We're calling it the Unified States of North America. There's a flag. And a commemorative syrup line."
China's delegate pulled up the CoD video on their tablet, letting the distorted dubstep echo through the chamber.
Everyone turned to me.
I held firm. "Would it help if I told you I won that match?"
Janet facepalmed audibly.
---
The reactions split down the room like a geopolitical fault line.
Germany: Appalled.
France: Begrudgingly fascinated.
India: Confused but intrigued.
Finland: Still proud.
Japan: Taking notes.
Brazil: Suggested a samba-culture merger with Portugal next.
Quebec: Started a protest outside the building with signs reading "MERDE!"
The Secretary-General rubbed his temples. "Mr. President, are you seriously proposing this new country?"
I smiled. "Not proposing. We already passed the bill. This summit is just me being polite."
---
Three hours later, after 17 debates, 2 walkouts, and one dramatic PowerPoint presentation from the Swiss delegate comparing me to Napoleon riding a Segway, we finally voted.
The global consensus?
Divided.
Some nations warned of setting a reckless precedent. Others shrugged and said, "Well, at least they didn't invade anyone over oil this time."
The motion to recognize the USNA as a provisional union passed—narrowly.
I signed the document, posed for photos, and managed not to wink at the camera.
---
Back on the hotel rooftop that night, I stood with Janet and Josh, watching the lights of Geneva flicker in the dark.
"You realize you just memed your way into the history books?" Janet asked, sipping her wine.
"I prefer to call it 'unconventional diplomacy.'"
Josh grinned. "You're trending in fifteen languages."
"Good," I said. "If the world's gonna panic, it might as well be over someone who knows how to quickscope."
---
Tomorrow, I'd face the fallout. The skeptics. The rogue memes. Quebec.
But tonight?
I was the confident, ridiculous leader of the strangest new nation on Earth.
And somehow, the world hadn't exploded.
Yet.