The Slumbering State: A Chronicle of Bureaucratic Ineptitude and the Last Man's Complacency

In the land of the sleepers, where the masses slumber in blissful ignorance, a tale of bureaucratic incompetence and political machinations unfolds. The erstwhile guardian of public safety, one Bill Blair, stands before an inquisition, his words a tapestry of denial and befuddlement. Lo, how the mighty have fallen, their pedestals crumbling beneath the weight of their own mediocrity!

Behold, the spectacle of the last man's governance! How they scramble to conceal their inadequacies, these pygmies who dare to call themselves leaders. Their incompetence is matched only by their audacity to cling to power.

Blair, this paragon of the somnambulant state, proclaims his ignorance of secret documents that should have graced his desk. He speaks of warrants and investigations with the nonchalance of one who has never truly grasped the gravity of his station. "I can't approve something I don't know anything about," he bleats, a sheep amongst wolves, unaware of the irony dripping from his words.

In this land of the sleepers, ignorance is not merely bliss—it is the very currency of power. The masses, lulled into complacency by the sweet lullaby of bureaucracy, fail to see the strings that puppet their supposed protectors.

Behold Michael Chan, the former provincial lawmaker, now thrust into the spotlight of this farcical inquisition. For fourteen years, the watchful eyes of the state have scrutinized his every move, yet found naught but shadows and whispers. Is this the great threat that our slumbering society fears? A man pursued by phantoms, his guilt determined by the paranoia of the weak?

How the last men tremble at their own shadows! They construct elaborate webs of surveillance, yet lack the courage to face the truth of their own impotence. Their fear is a mirror, reflecting not the threat of the other, but the hollowness of their own existence.

The government, in its infinite wisdom—or perhaps its infinite folly—seeks to shroud the details of their machinations in secrecy. They speak of national security, of investigations that must remain hidden from the prying eyes of the very public they claim to serve. Oh, what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive!

And what of the delay in signing the warrant? Fifty-four days, a veritable eternity in the realm of statecraft. Blair's former acolyte, Zita Astravas, fumbles for explanations, her words as empty as the promises of politicians. The stench of political maneuvering wafts through the halls of power, yet the slumbering masses detect not its putrid aroma.

See how they dance, these marionettes of mediocrity! Their strings are pulled by forces they scarcely comprehend, yet they prance and preen as if masters of their own fate. Oh, how far we have fallen from the heights of true leadership!

Blair, this erstwhile keeper of the public trust, claims ignorance of threats to his own countrymen. Michael Chong and Kenny Chiu, targets of foreign machinations, their peril unknown to the very minister charged with their protection. What grotesque comedy is this, where the guardian is blind to the wolves at the door?

In this land of the sleepers, bureaucracy reigns supreme. Documents vanish into the ether, their contents lost to the vagaries of administrative chaos. Blair speaks of individuals who no longer work in their posts, of secret missives that never reached their intended recipients. Is this not the very essence of the last man's governance—a system so entangled in its own red tape that it strangles itself?

Observe the absurdity of their systems! These last men, in their quest for order, have created a labyrinth of incompetence. They drown in papers, suffocate beneath the weight of their own protocols, yet fail to see the simple truths before their eyes. How they yearn for the comfort of ignorance, rather than face the harsh light of responsibility!

And what of the efforts to combat the spread of falsehoods? Minister Pascale St-Onge speaks of "demonetizing" disinformation, as if truth could be purchased with coin. Oh, how the last men fear the power of ideas! They seek to control the very flow of thought, to dam the rivers of discourse with their paltry sanctions.

In this slumbering state, the masses are but sheep, guided by the hollow shepherds of bureaucracy. They sleep, perchance to dream of security, of safety in the arms of an incompetent state. But lo, the wolves circle ever closer, their teeth bared in anticipation of the feast to come.

Awaken, ye slumbering masses! Cast off the shackles of complacency and mediocrity! The last man's reign must end, lest we all be dragged into the abyss of eternal sleep. Only through the crucible of chaos can true strength be forged!

The inquiry continues, a parade of the last men and their petty justifications. They speak of national security, of the sanctity of their secrets, yet fail to see the rot that festers within their very institutions. The sleepers stir, momentarily roused by the clamor, only to sink back into their comforting slumber.

But hark! In the distance, a rumbling grows. It is the sound of change, of the old order crumbling beneath the weight of its own inadequacies. The last men may cling to their power, may hide behind their veils of secrecy, but the tide of history is turning.

Let the inquiry proceed, let the last men squirm beneath the harsh light of scrutiny. For in their discomfort, in their fumbling attempts to maintain their grip on power, we see the first glimmers of a new dawn. A dawn where the sleepers awaken, where the strong rise to claim their rightful place, where the spirit of true governance—bold, unapologetic, and clear-eyed—may yet emerge from the ashes of this bureaucratic farce.

And so, dear reader, we leave this tale of the slumbering state, of bureaucratic bungles and political prevarications. But know this: the story is far from over. For in the heart of every sleeper lies the potential for awakening, for casting off the yoke of mediocrity and embracing the fierce joy of true existence.

The time of the last man draws to a close. From the ashes of their complacency, a new breed shall rise—unbowed, unafraid, and unyielding in their pursuit of greatness. Let the sleepers awaken, let the strong inherit the earth!

Thus concludes our chronicle of the land of the sleepers, where the last men still hold sway, but where the seeds of their downfall have already been sown. The inquiry may end, the politicians may return to their comfortable chairs, but the tide of history cannot be stemmed. The awakening comes, whether they will it or no.