Concept: NSA agent and CSIS agent spend years monitoring the same person. One night after she hangs up the phone the line stays open. Tentatively, a voice: “Hello?” They strike up a conversation, hit it off, start meeting for coffee at the border to talk about what a dumb fuck their assigned person is. First it’s once a month, then once a week, then twice, and before long they’re sharing a home that straddles the dividing line. They fall in love, slowly then all at once, and promise to spend their lives together.

Then, in the early hours of the morning years later, the call comes. She’s done it. President Ivanka Trump has declared war on Canada over the NAFTA deal that she is convinced was the death of her beloved father. The NSA agent begs and pleads with their beloved, “Come back with me, let me keep you safe,” but it’s not to be.

“You said you would never let this border tear us apart. If you go now, it’s over.” The NSA-issued earpiece issues a high whine, cutting through any thoughts of hesitation. “Please. I won’t ask again. Don’t leave me.”

The door on the American side swings closed. A car, American-made, another industry saved by the Trump dynasty, revs its engine and pulls away. In the house, the only sound is muffled weeping.

The US prepares to carpet-bomb the border days later. Ivanka’s nuclear button is bigger than Trudeau III’s, and actually works. In a quiet office, deep within the NSA headquarters, a broken agent’s finger hovers over ‘confirm’. A holomap glows before them, a single blinking point marking an unremarkable border town where they left their life behind. Tears blur their vision until the red dot is all they can see. Their hand falls.