CHAPTER ONE THE END OF THE WAR
No one would have believed in the last years of the 20th century that this here Province was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than the Northern Irish people’s; that as paramilitaries busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency Loyalist paramilitaries went to and fro over Norn Iron about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their Empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same.
No one gave a thought to the newer worlds of ideas and technology as sources of danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the ideas as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most, Protestant men thought there were other men living in the Province, undoubtedly inferior to themselves and ready to take up arms in a military enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds and vast cool and unsympathetic intellects, regarded this here Province, and slowly and surely drew their plans against the Loyalist people. And early in the 21st century came the great disillusionment.
The continent Europe (EU) , I scarcely need remind the reader, revolves about the USA at a mean distance of 140,000 miles, and the light and heat it receives from the USA is half of that received in the rest of this world. The USA must be, if history has any truth, younger than our Province; and long before this here Province became steeped in bigoted hatred, life upon the USA surface must have begun its course towards super-capitalism. The fact that it is scarcely one seventh of the volume of the earth must have accelerated its reaching the temperature at which Supremacy could begin. The USA has air and sea power and all that is necessary for the support of a dominating existence.
Yet so vain are Loyalists, and so blinded by their vanity, that no Loyalist writer, up to the very end of the 20th century, had any conception that intelligent ideas might have developed so far from Our Province and so far, beyond our Provincial viewpoints. Nor was it generally understood that since Our Province is older than the USA, with scarcely one-thousandth of the superficial area and as remote from the EU, it necessarily follows that our Protestant State for Loyalist people is not only more distant from its beginning but nearer its end.
The secular ending that must someday overtake our Province has already gone far indeed. Its distribution in physical geography is still largely a mystery, but we know now that even in our capital city the population is tilting towards that of our oldest fears. The air of is much more Irish than it was, beaches have shrunk until over half of their surfaces are used by the Other Sort, they belong in Stormont. In protest huge groups gather about flag poles and periodically disrupt Flag removals. The last stage, which to us seems still incredibly remote, has become a present-day reality for the inhabitants of our capital. The immediate pressure of necessity has brightened non-Loyalist intellects, enlarged their powers, and hardened their hearts. And looking across space with instruments, and intelligences such as we have scarcely dreamed of, they see, a morning star of hope: our own surrender of the Orange State with its bigotry and black hatred, with its cloudy atmosphere eloquent of Times Past, with glimpses through its drifting cloud wisps of broad stretches of Loyalist fanaticism and narrow, B Special- and British Army-crowded roads.