WASHINGTONIUM, IMPERIUM AMERICANUM.
There are moments in the history of a great empire when an emperor must recognize that the greatest enemies do not always command tanks, launch missiles, or ask irritating questions at press conferences.
Some of them buzz.
Some of them crawl.
And some of them sit in tall grass waiting for the glorious citizens of the Imperium Americanum to expose an ankle.
That is why Imperator Donaldus J. Trumpius Maximus, Supreme Commander of Executive Orders, Defender of the Beautiful Lawn, and Eternal Protector of the Presidential Golf Sock, has identified a new enemy of civilization:
Mosquitous and Tickus.
The imperial message could not be clearer:
If you suck American blood, you had better have excellent lawyers.
The Flying Barbarians Have Arrived
The palace is particularly offended by foreign mosquito species.
The Asian tiger mosquito and the Egyptian mosquito have apparently spread through parts of the empire and even dared to establish themselves in sacred Washingtonium D.C.
For Trumpius, the strategic picture is obvious.
Foreign invaders.
Uncontrolled reproduction.
American territory.
At this point, all that is missing is a giant map with red arrows and the Emperor pointing at Florida.
Ticks have also earned a place on the imperial enemies list. They threaten citizens, pets, livestock, picnics, hiking trips, and perhaps most dangerously, the national confidence of anybody wearing shorts.
The Emperor has therefore responded with his traditional moderation:
The populations must be dramatically reduced.
Washingtonium may soon become the first capital in history with an unofficial five-year plan for bugs.
Operation Make Picnics Great Again
But this will not simply be an old-fashioned campaign of spraying everything until the squirrels request legal representation.
No.
The empire has discovered ecological sophistication.
Breeding grounds are to be reduced. Drainage is to be improved. Grass is to be managed. Natural predators are to be encouraged.
In short, Trumpius is not merely sending chemicals into battle.
He is sending landscapers.
Where Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon with legions, Donaldus Trumpius may now conquer mosquito habitat with improved drainage.
Veni. Vidi. Drainagi.
Even sterile insects, biotechnology, and beneficial bacteria may be deployed against the enemy.
The new imperial legion could therefore consist of scientists, park workers, environmental officials, and millions of mosquitoes incapable of producing heirs.
Rome never had technology like this.
The Imperial Department of Bug Warfare
Several mighty institutions of the empire are now expected to coordinate the campaign.
The Interiorium, the Agriculturium, the Imperial Environmental Prefecture, and the venerable General Administration of Buildings, Corridors and Marble Columns are to join forces.
The Health Ministry also receives a major role, because Mosquitous and Tickus bring with them diseases whose names already sound like conquered provinces:
Lyme. Babesia. Zika. Dengue. Chikungunya.
And then there is Alpha-Gal Syndrome, a condition associated with certain tick bites that can trigger allergic reactions to components found in mammalian meat.
For the Imperium Americanum, this may be the darkest possibility of all.
A tick standing between an American and a steak?
That is practically treason.
The administration is even directed to explore whether food and drug products containing significant alpha-galactose should receive allergy-style labels.
At this rate, the imperial barbecue may soon require more warnings than a nuclear facility.
A Prize for the Ultimate Mosquito Destroyer
The order also summons the scientific guilds.
Research competitions may be launched to develop faster diagnostics, better treatments, preventive tools, and non-chemical methods of controlling the imperial insect menace.
Somewhere in a laboratory, a researcher is probably staring at a prototype and whispering:
“If I can build a machine that sterilizes mosquitoes, repels ticks, and trims the presidential lawn, I may receive an imperial prize.”
This is how civilizations advance.
Or how extremely ambitious grant applications begin.
No Mosquito Left Behind
The grand imperial objective is simple:
Washingtonium shall become safer, more beautiful, and significantly less itchy.
Citizens should once again be able to walk through parks, enjoy rivers, visit recreational areas, and heroically grill meat without returning home covered in tiny red reminders that nature still has opinions.
And if the Washingtonium campaign succeeds, the methods may be expanded across the entire empire.
Thus begins a new chapter in American strategic doctrine.
Not merely:
Peace Through Strength.
But perhaps:
Peace Through Mosquito Sterilization.
And somewhere above the Potomac, one nervous mosquito turns to the rest of the swarm and whispers:
“Guys... he signed an Executive Order.”
