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#1
March 18th, 2012, 11:20 AM
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The Fountainhead Filibuster: Tales from Objectivist Katanga
June 1966, Galtville, Republic of Katanga
Bob Denard was scared. He wasn't used to being scared. snick Another round in the mag. Almost full. I should have stayed a cop snick He's been re-filling his Sten mags a lot these days. Shit, I should have kept selling washing machines.... except that's how I met that bitch in the first place. snick Full. He tucked it into his webbing with the others. He got up to leave. There was no way he was going to stay inside the bunker without something to distract him from that fucking idiot former car company executive standing by the telephone board, with his Panama suits and that ridiculous schoolboy part in his hair. "Well, yes I understand they're using jets but...well j-just hear me out Moise, but I've run the numbers on this and it really is more cost-effective to just re-build the tracks....." Idiot, scowled Denard as he stalked up the stairs. He walked out of the bunker into the town square. A dusty square surrounded by art-deco buildings that never had quite filled up. That ridiculous Atlas statue. At least the neon slogans had been turned off when the petrochemical depot got mortared. No juice to ask who John Galt was now. The square was fuller now, sharp barking voices in Afrikaans, scarecrow figures of, oh, what did she call them? mundanes- one of the less polite terms for 'slave' Bob had ever heard- loading green crates into Unimogs. Something about a counteroffensive, she kept saying. Moving a whole company up to that ridiculous retro-1930's train station. Keep the links to the outside world, she said at the last speech. The world's best would rally to the call. Even Col.Falques was too scared to tell her the Indians had cut the main line a week and a half ago. It was a trunk line to nowhere. The distant pop-pop-pops were drowned out by a low howl. It darted up into the sky, a stubby barrel shape, painted bright white with those two black block letters on the side. Fucking Swedes pulling another gun run, eh? Denard gave an inner smirk. The more CAS missions the Tunnans were pulling, the less they would notice a southbound C-46. Not too happy about the low altitude...but if that guy dropped supplies on gabrielle and beatrice, he could make it to Rhodesia. They were good boys- all French, all colons. RPIMS, Legionaires, didn't matter. They'd all decided to take being alive as their severance pay. Just slip out, real quiet, maybe when the saffies all roll out to the train station......oh, fuck. She's here.. Cigarette chomped firmly in mouth. Grey hair in a bun. Her lumpy, short figure was not complimented by the awkward, overstarched fatigues she had taken to wearing these days. "What the FUCK are you doing?" She wasn't screaming at him, thank god. She was stalking into the middle of the square. "Get back to work!" She screamed again at the mundanes, still cowering after the Saab's flypast. Slowly, they obeyed. One of them- one of the bedroom girls they were making haul mortar rounds- slipped and fell down when she tried to lift her crate again. Those tits don't help you work now, mon chere.. The Leader stalked right over to her. The girl looked down at the stenciled crate, biting her lip, tears streaming down her face. SHELL 82MM MORTAR HE Bob didn't think she could read. "You cow! You STUPID, IRRATIONAL COW!. Can you NOT comprehend logically what will happen if you don't pick up that crate?" The Leader fumbled with her holster, eventually drawing her Hi-Power. "SAVAGES! pop. Into the ground in front of her. The girl whimpered. pop. pop. Into her stomach. popopopopop Eventually the slide locked back. The square was silent. Even a few of the saffies had stopped to watch from behind their aviator sunglasses. "Oh, what?" Her voice rang out. "Are you sorry for her? Do you feel bad?." She waved the Browning in the air. "That is EXACTLY the kind of attitude. Which got us into this mess. You all feel too sorry, too weak! And now a bunch of curry-eating INTERNATIONALISTS"- she spat the last word- "are shelling my city!." "Get a move on, all of you!" She didn't have to tell Bob twice. 
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#2
March 18th, 2012, 11:25 AM
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After the publication of Atlas Shrugged in 1957, Ayn Rand fell into a deep, listless depression. Eventually, she emerged, throwing herself into the development of the philosophy of Objectivism.
But a chance encounter could have pushed her in another direction, one devoted to shaping the world more directly. A chance encounter leads Rand to decide that making the "Galt's Gulch" of her hit book a reality is priority number one- a place where the rich and powerful, the geniuses weighed down by the altruism and collectivism of lesser men can forge a world based off of will and rational self-interest. A place rich in resources ready to be exploited and tamed by human self-interest, a place under threat from savages and weak-willed collectivist internationalists. A place called.... Katanga.
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#3
March 18th, 2012, 12:59 PM
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Awesome even if i don't know if laugh for the destiny tha Rand and her cohorts will face or cry for the revival of the Congo Free State.
Big Butterfly for the future, if the former car executive is who i think, the Vietnam war will be fought different and the bomber crowd and the fan of massive retaliation will must search another culprit when theirs toys and pet theories will be trashed. Even a certain OTL head of the FED will face a grim future if tained by association with that Loony
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#4
March 18th, 2012, 01:17 PM
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This is the actual TL thread?
  . Subscribed.
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#5
March 18th, 2012, 02:14 PM
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I will watch this with glee.
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The greatest argument for the implementation of social darwinism is the existence of social darwinists. Last edited by Spengler; March 18th, 2012 at 02:22 PM..
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#6
March 18th, 2012, 02:23 PM
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I followed the other thread with delight. Subscribed of course.
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#7
March 18th, 2012, 02:23 PM
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1957, Los Angeles, California
These idiots don't know a great story when they see one. Another spec script angrily slapped down on another Hollywood bar. They must all think she's just another one of THEM. "It has 'shrugged' in the title" said the little man behind the desk. "Audiences aren't gonna bite on that- and if you want that radio scene in there, you should probably save us the trouble and buy yourself a radio station." Idiots. Scum. Little empty studio suits caring about what the audience would think. About what their effete little communist actor friends would think. Worrying about profit, and studio returns, and bubblegum-snapping teenagers. Care care care. No action. Did Homer care what his audience thought? Did Aristotle? Greatness never comes out of whinging about what other people want to see or hear. Where the hell was that Martini? She needed something to take the edge off of these pep pills. The doctor was right- it got her up in the morning, but it sure made her ragged. Who the hell works at this bar? Who the hell works at any bar? People who can't Achieve anything greater, that's who. Goddamn right. She'd felt so empty since finishing the book. So lost. What to do? She couldn't write novels anymore, oh no, not just that. She had to do something, to reach out, to carry the torch forwa- "Excuse me, Miss, is this seat taken?" Broad shouldered figure. Double breasted blue jacket. White pants. Blue eyes, a determined glint in his eye. Looks like a leader. The captain of a mighty ship. A man of greatness. "And you're asking why?" A large smile, reaching to the corners of his eye. "Because I know a writer in trouble when I see one." "I'm not in trouble" Asshole. "You might be for today." He glanced at the rougly bound tome on the bar "But I think MGM might be in trouble for years to come." He sat down, ordering a scotch and soda so calmly, so forcefully, she barely noticed, but the whole bar of lazy do-nothings sprang into action. "MGM doesn't know a good story if it bites them in the ass. I would know." He rested his hand on her shoulder. Not an advance- equality. Strength. "You're a writer?" He nodded. "Oh, yes. I've been a great many things. Author. A US Marine. I've seen the sun rise over China and hunted Japanese submarines, and I've also fought to lead people to a brighter future." "You've recognized me." He gave a chuckle and picked up his drink, which had come from somewhere. "I saw you from across the bar. I loved your book. You know, a lot of people don't think science fiction can change people's lives. I know it can." He winked. Her martini finally arrived. I didn't order it like he did- concerned only with himself. It gave the others, the lessers so much clairity... "But what am I going to do, if not a movie? This story is too....it's too powerful for something tawdry like cinema. The masses don't deserve this wisdom." She sighed, and gulped her pep pills. Maybe they would make her less self-pitying. "Miss Rand, you of all people should know that you already have the answer to that. You're looking in the wrong places." He picked himself up from his rakish slouch and looked right. at. her. "Miss Rand, I sense that you, too realize we live in a world where ignorant, dark forces want to stamp out all better futures. You also know that this era is the era of the individual- improving him, freeing him from negative imprinted events of the past. Some individuals possess incredible personal power." He understands. "I've been persecuted for what I believe in. Goverment thugs and grey suits shut me down at every corner when I tried to bring my message to the people. You know what I did?" The answer came right to her. "You were trying to reach the wrong people" "Exactly. I was trying to reach the wrong people in the wrong place. The powers that be- cops, g-men, psychiatrists, hollywood suits...they aren't ready for it. They won't let my message get out. I go over their heads." "The ones that really matter" mused Rand. "You're just as sharp as you write- you know, I'm only here in LA for another two days. Just to talk to movie stars, millionaires, people who matter. If I can get them to free their minds....." "You can do anything." A long, pregnant pause. A sip of a martini. The energy of the pills filling her. "So where will you go, after Los Angeles?" It was half question, half request. "To sea, Miss Rand!" He gestured at his own handsome blue and white garb. "To sea! Where the g-men and the tax men and the naysayers can't find me." A triumphant grin. "It's a lot like your own Galt's Gulch, Miss Rand....except I'll take a ship over a gulch any day of the week", he finished with a wink. It dawned on her. This was a turning point in her life. Like when her bitch mother gave away her precious, earned toys to charity. Like when those collectivist Bolshevik scum made her cower and flee. This was an awakening. Galt's Gulch. The ones that matter. Somewhere where those empty suits couldn't find her. Don't make the movie. Make a reality. He smiled, a teacher's smile. "You have given me...." she sat up, drawing herself up to her full- minimal- height on the bar stool "...a lot to think about, Mister?" "Ron." "Ron Hubbard" And like that, with a wink and a smile, he left.
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#8
March 18th, 2012, 09:10 PM
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It'd be interesting if Katanga leads to Rhodesia and Portuguese Africa hanging on for longer, even adopting (ruinous!) objectivist economic reforms.
Possible ideas: a Katanga-Rhodesia-Portugal-South Africa-Biafra unholy axis? and will the existence of Katanga lead to the U.N. being more militarized, especially if Dag doesn't die? (again, U.N. special task force vs. PMCs vs. local gangsters/militias. Think District 9 except with objectivists instead of aliens.) Last edited by Strategos' Risk; March 18th, 2012 at 09:36 PM..
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#9
March 18th, 2012, 09:41 PM
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Quote:
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My website, Korsgaard's Commentary. Read my work, comment, and share it and come again! Now on YouTube! Communist Confederacy Disscussion
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#10
March 18th, 2012, 11:07 PM
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More seriously, the butterflies from this TL are huge. I haven't quite decided on what will happen to Dag, there are a couple options- all entertaining- but as everybody was able to discern from the first chapter, ONUC (eventually) has a major military role. The Congo ATL is going to be even more transformative for the UN than OTL, and ONUC is going to play a big role. Quote:
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#12
March 19th, 2012, 12:43 AM
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The first part with the gun toting Rand could be straight from a early 70s New Hollywood movie ...
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#13
March 19th, 2012, 01:14 AM
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This is great! Its funny, I just started Atlas Shrugged a few weeks ago. Great book, and great timeline
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#14
March 19th, 2012, 01:59 AM
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This is very fictional, but also very, very entertaining! Even have some thoughts of my own, though they'll have to wait a week or so.
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"The Iron Duke and the Star-Spangled Banner" - a timeline of how one man's altered whim can change the course of all history.
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#15
March 19th, 2012, 09:21 PM
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This story just started but I hope someone writes a Mad Men crossover.
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#16
March 19th, 2012, 09:30 PM
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I'm gonna keep it real-life only (however distorted that might become) but this is just sooooo goddamn tempting. Pete Cambell slimily guiding tours of Galtville, expounding on the dynamic new world of tomorrow. Euuuuugh.
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#17
March 19th, 2012, 09:59 PM
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#18
March 19th, 2012, 10:50 PM
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The amount of people finding a hapless, out of their depth pair of authors and what looks like Robert McNamara setting up a small empire in Africa and unleashing horrifying amounts of bloodshed is frankly unnerving. I suppose we just don't have Objectivists in the UK to laugh at.
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#19
March 21st, 2012, 05:25 AM
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It will take quite some suspension of disbelief, but the timeline so far is well researched and well written. I'm subscribed and hoping to see more of this Rapture in the Congo.
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#20
March 21st, 2012, 11:27 PM
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Man, imagine another spin-off: if Objectivist Katanga didn't take place in OTL, but in For All Time...
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