Within days of the departure of the last Jews from Ukraine, in the basement of the Presidential Administration Building at 11 Bankova Street, a team of the nation’s most adroit web manipulators were hard at work. None were older than thirty-five. The best and brightest of Ukraine’s millennial generation were busy monitoring chatter relating to the exodus of Ukraine’s Jewish community. Their journey through the maze of Ukrainian cyberspace found that national sentiment on the topic was mixed. On one hand, many Ukrainians felt that their president appeared weak for capitulating to the demands of the American president. On the other hand, most Ukrainians saw the Jews as the root cause of many of their problems. For them, ridding their soil of these accursed parasites could hardly be seen as negative. At the president’s request, Ukrainian intelligence officials worked hard to analyze the data. They concluded that the president could survive the exodus of the Jews so long as he remained resolute on resisting Russian aggression. Security procedures pertaining to Ukraine’s most radical Jew-hating elements would have to be enhanced and monitored vigilantly. But the majority of the country was shifting their focus to the Russians.
There was, however, another problem in the house of President Kovalenko. Since the truth of her grandfather had come to light and the Jews of Ukraine had departed, Ulyanna Kovalenko spent every moment of every day seething in the presidential palace. She unleashed her fury on anyone who had the misfortune of getting in her way, including her husband. The look of disdain that she gave him for conceding to the Americans and Israelis was ever present. Her fury was consuming her, and she wanted her husband to somehow take revenge. This message was not lost on him.
It was clear though that there were not a lot of good options. His administration believed that putting this matter behind them was best for the president and for the country. But that didn’t mean that President Kovalenko could not at least try to grant his wife the one thing she had been demanding.
On a cold, wintry Sunday morning just weeks after the emigration of the Jews, the first lady barged into the president’s private study. At the moment he was meeting privately with his minister of intelligence. His presence was totally insignificant to her. And it did nothing to prevent her impending tirade.
“These Jews have been undermining our country for generations, making us look like fools in front of the whole world. Time and again we have tried to destroy them, yet they keep popping up and making everyone’s lives miserable. We are the Jews’ laughingstock, and you two sit here sipping vodka as if everything is just perfect!”
“Lany, what would you have me do? Stop the Americans from supporting us militarily? Would you rather have Jews or American weapons to fight the Russians?” the president asked, trying to reason with his infuriated wife.
“What I want you to do is make the people responsible for this travesty pay, and pay dearly. I want you to kill every filthy Jew that embarrassed our country and ridiculed my family. What I want you to do is to avenge the name of my family, and every other Ukrainian family that has tried to defend our nation from these vermin for centuries!” she said emphatically before turning on her heel.
Smiling, the president turned to his chief of intelligence and said, “Well, if that is all she wants, maybe we can just make that happen.”
“I’ll see what we can come up with, Mr. President,” the intelligence chief said pensively before taking another sip from his vodka glass.