For All Time: Well Enough Alone
Just because I wanted to add my own input to the timeline that first tempted me to this website, I wish to present to you all my opinions for the end of this dystopia. I’m not trying to take the credit for another person’s idea, please just view it as a simple thought exercise. I’ve done my best to make sure that total maniacs are in key positions and that the world is just as fanatical as in the real timeline. Discussion thread is here;
London: Federation of the British Isles
The new Permanent Under-secretary at the Minister for Reconstruction, Anthony Blair swore to himself as his car sputtered to a halt in the middle of Whitechapel, his old Leyland once again giving up the ghost. Stepping into the grim July air, the windswept alleys around the austere Apartment blocks, he was, after letting the engine steam off, able to finally make his way to his new office job, the Department responsible for cleaning up the mess of the secessionist movements of the ‘70s.
London could hardly be said to be a pleasant city, the Welsh Liberation Army bombings had destroyed the few buildings the blitz had spared and Prime Ministers Enoch Powell and Michael Foot had hardly been the sort of people to support public expenditure on mere architecture! Blair managed, after a struggle of sorts, to get his car to the severe concrete bunker that served as his “office”. He managed to avoid his minister to his great fortune; Francis Maude had a filthy temper.
After skimming over his business for the day, mainly reports for the new rebuilding programs in Dublin, the old Irish capital had been nucked in the last stages of the troubles, but then, Tony mused, what did the Finnians expect if they supported the Catholic death squads?
After signing the last documents formally ending the tentative plans for the Channel Tunnel (which had been a dead-duck from day one; the French couldn’t afford it and who wanted to give SPID sufferers an easy route into the country?) Blair gave a cursory glance to the maps on the wall, the Isles were once again united, although he noticed that most of Yorkshire was still under occupation, the legacy of that extremist Scargil from when he had tried to take the region out of the old Kingdom of England in the ’90s. Blair was proud to say that Britain was still relatively peaceful and prosperous in spite of everything that the last 50 years had thrown at it, well… at least in comparison to the rest of Europe.
He only had time to notice the investiture of the new Archbishop of Canterbury on his flickering television, some liberal nutcase called David Icke being consecrated by King Edward IX, before he was summoned before the Prime Minister; Redwood had succeeded Archer after the former had been found guilty of embezzlement the previous winter, the Mandarin had not been too bothered, it wasn't as if anyone in the Federation needed that plutonium! Blair signed; at least another day was nearly over.
Beijing: China
……………….?
Berlin: National German Republic
The new Reichschancellor of the NGR, Jorg Haider, stepped onto the platform of the new German capital to address the mass rally of supporters of the National Front of Germanic Liberation. He smiled at the wave of Celtic Crosses that had become the emblem of his new political union that had swept to victory in the “election” last month.
“Germans” he boomed out amongst the Alexanderplatz, his easy smile and tanned skin projected on the dozens of communication screens that covered the square “I salute you!” he paused as the thousands of cheering voices erupted in front of him, many with tears streaming down their devoted faces. “After sixty years of division and dishonour, the Germanic peoples are free and united in the city once home to the greatest men in history!” he was again forced to stop under the patriotic fever of his supporters. “No longer will the chosen race be forced to play second fiddle to the corrupted powers of the West! We are all now very much united under one glorious banner”
That much was true at least; the fall of the old GDR had been rapid as soon as the reds had wiped themselves out in a wave of cleansing flame and syphilitic diseases, but he had still had to kill the remaining pinkos, Schröder had gone to the work camps only a few weeks ago along with the rest of the SPD’s leadership. “The Fourth Reich now spreads from Strasburg in the West to Königsberg in the East, happy, wealthy and enlightened! Yet, this is only the beginning! We shall not rest until the Kleptocracies of the heathen Slavs are finally under the thumbs of the chosen peoples!” If the noise in the plaza grew any more, Haider thought to himself, the filthy Semites would keel over and die without a fight!
If only his idol had not been stabbed in the back in ’45 he thought sadly, still, the microstates in the East would be walkovers if all went well. The disestablishment of the Swiss Cantons had been easy as soon as the banks collapsed in the eighties and Austria had been quick to fall under the rule of the FPÖ after Vasiliy Kulik had come to power in what remained of Russia. Despite Haider's rhetoric, he felt that the National Bolsheviks would prove to be supportive of his actions he and his counterpart in Kirov, Eduard Limonov, had decided upon for exterminating what remained of the Tatars and other parasitic groups.
“And so we shall march alongside freedom and glory on the road to Glorious National Salvation!” he climaxed to the wild cheering of his subjects.
They would have died for him and the Fatherland and, he smirked, many probably would!
10 miles outside Arkhangelsk: Free Republic of the Kola
Dimitri Medvedev, erstwhile Governor of Murmansk, surveyed his fiefdom, well, if that is what you could call a small handful of farms and peasant villages. He had been furious when, in the first fully open elections that the Kolarites had been given, they had kicked him out in favour of those damn populists! Medvedev signed, it wasn’t as him he didn’t like Vladimir Zhirinovsky, but he still hoped that the Finns had remained in the region for at least another few months, but as with the will of the world, the Perussuomalaiset had pulled the army out to deal with the Lapp uprising in ’92. Finland had perhaps suffered the least out of the splintering of the Nordic Pact; they had only had Oulu nucked in the last stages of the war with the Swedes and relations between the Scandinavian states were now fairly congeal, only around 10 000 had died in the ethnic riots so far.
He was, Medvedev considered, fairly lucky to be around, he had been one of the few students to have got out of Leningrad alive and even more lucky to have survived the cleansing camps in Siberia and had a result, been one of the handful of people deemed “pure” enough to have been called up for the Motherland in the last stages of the Second Civil War. He had been been granted clemency by the first Russian President before he had escaped to the North during the Finnish expansionist period in '89. Kulik was not the sociopath Chikatilo had been…well, not quite so much…and at least he had had the decency to keep the rape-murders to a minimum but Dimitri had his limits, which included working for even the most pleasent of mass murderers.
He noticed one of his serfs…sorry, employees, was stumbling about in a daze, SPID was not so bad around the White Sea but still, he thought as he took the Grach pistol slowly out of his pocket, best not to take any chances eh?
Naples: Kingdom of Italy-Two Sicily’s (South Italy)
Silvio Berlusconi, senior partner of Berlusconi e Giuffrè, one of the largest and certainly the most respectable solicitors firm in Naples, ambled down the Piazza Municipo without a care in the world, the sun beating down upon his battered, wrinkled skin. He had had a difficult afternoon after deciding to take up the private case the Sicilian Business Community had submitted against the local Government over alleged “misappropriation of funds”. Antonino had been adamant for him not to take it, Silvio had wondered why, the Casa Nostra were not a threat anymore, were they? What did it matter if they were anyway? The Sicilians were paying him half-a-trillion lira for the case, which was a fortune now that inflation was back under 100%. “Finally”, he thought to himself, things were looking up!
It had been difficult, he mused, to have picked himself up from the gutter after his assets in Milan had been liquidated by La Russa’s regime. The Azione Sociale had been quick to move into Milan as the old Communist government collapsed, and, while Silvio was by his very nature a Conservative, he had no support at all for the massive state control the Fascists demanded of a…ahem…honest businessman. Still, the top graduate of Rome University Law Department was made of sterner stuff than his enemies gave him credit for!
He espied the newest posters of the King and Prime Minister that had been erected at either end of the boulevard, Vittorio Emanuele IV had made a rapid return to his homeland following his Corsican exile and the battered southerners, who had never embraced Communism with the same semi-religious fervor as the north, had been happy to take back the monarchy after a grim succession of increasingly corrupt oligarchs. In addition, Bernardo Provenzano was proving to be a fine, if somewhat doddery, Prime Minister, “The greatest Statesman is one who does the bare minimum” Berlusconi thought to himself as he purchased his favorite Flemish Chocolate Gelato from the roadside seller. He wandered down the muggy streets of the South Italian capital, the car stereos blaring out either some of the newly decriminalized Opera or some dreadful Indian music from the British Federation.
As he ate, he found himself feeling somewhat lightheaded, perhaps he was letting himself go somewhat. He would have to start going to the gym again…
“Yes” he contemplated, as he made his along to the seaside promenade, all things considered, it had been best to get out of the North. Naples could hardly be described as one of the world’s great cities; the Communists had viewed the once beautiful Baroque architecture as “Extremist Bourgeoisie decadence” and had demolished most of it, of most of the great architectural gems of Naples, only the Royal Palace had survived, but it was his adopted hometown and the first place he had felt safe in for quite some time.
Berlusconi paused, wheezing, he was not that unfit surely? And why did he have that strange metallic taste in his mouth? He looked at the gelato in silent horror; he thought that damn seller had looked shifty!
As the best lawyer in Naples pitched forwards, his last thoughts were taken up with how stupid he had been to try and work against the mafia!
HMS Ophelia: 140 miles east of Ittoqqortoormiit
The newest aircraft carrier of the Royal Navy cruised off the coast of the Republic of Greenland, the flight deck steaming with moisture as the nuclear reactor worked overtime to ensure that it remained dry and free of frost.
Second Lieutenant Wendy Fiennes grimaced as the freezing polar air hit her in the face, this far from the arctic circle, one needed as many layers as regulations would allow. The Royal Navy was once again the world’s second largest, ever since the Soviet nuclear subs had been scuttled at Odessa, Vladivostok and Murmansk, one of the last stages of that brutal, vicious Civil War that had ripped the Communist state asunder.
Lunch was a depressing affair, little more than a greyish slop masquerading as chicken and mashed potatoes, but she ate it anyway, there were a great deal of starving people in the Third World, or rather, the World. Still, at least she had time to read her smuggled copy of Bristol Fasion Review.
She left the mess hall in a huff, that gross steward Prescott had been trying to grab her arse again, she would have to report him if it went on for much longer. She stood on the portside gantry to look at the American Naval Flotilla about ten miles aft. A brace of nuclear armed battleships, the USS Robert Dole, named after the old Vice President sailed alongside the USS Slade Gorton (named after a President that, while not bad by American standards had still given to order to nuck Nome when Alaska tried to declare independence in 1994), supporting the Carrier USS Libertarianism, an apt name, she considered, to say how Smith was running the United States.
Wendy walked back towards the flight deck to discuss politics with the only bloke on the ship who gave a toss about current affairs. Jack Straw was, it had to be said, slightly bookish, but the civilian attaché was still reasonable company. The two spoke for a few minutes regarding Prime Minister Redwoods new trade agreement with Nigeria, Britain had been relying on the West African state’s oil to keep afloat for the past two decades and it was good to know that the economy was still going to stay at a level to keep it better than most of the other European countries. After the chat, she made her way back to Admiral Frederick West to see about her long awaited promotion.
Indeed, it was a shame that she failed to heed the warning lights on deck and that she didn’t recognized the whine of the Typhoon jet fighter that spread her, and six other junior officers, along the flight deck in a way akin to spreading jam on a giant steel slice of toast!
Boston, Massachusetts: North American Confederacy
John Chirac, the Governor of one of the most stable of the American States looked out of his elegantly appointed office in the East Wing of the Capitol building. Chirac, who had come to the former United States with little more than a bright head and a pocket filled with the manuscript for his political thesis, had rapidly moved up the American social ladder. He had first become the Professor of Political Sciences at Yale, the last incumbent it had turned out; the University had been forcibly closed for hosting a protest against Alexander Haig. Then it had been onwards to become the Republican nominee for Governor which he won in the landslide of ’96.
Chirac had been a relatively popular Governor, the shooting of the Québécois nationalists notwithstanding, but he had still had to do that little bit of vote…rearrangement to get his third term the other year. He was considering running against Smith in the Primaries in January; the damn Libertarians did not have a clue about how to run the economy or law and order, and it had only been El Neil’s immense personal charisma that had given him the support needed to redraft the Constitution on the grounds of “betraying the Revolution”.
John still had to hand it to Smith on the foreign policy stiff though; the NAC now ruled North America from Alaska to Acapulco, ever since West Canada had joined the Union in the plebiscites last year. Yet with the “Liberty Corps”, as the independent militia groups were called were known, still engaged in their long war of attrition against Grand Columbia and the Chavez régime there, the American administration still had a long way to go before Smith would be able to let the Government atrophy.
Chirac glanced at the television which stood like a obese toad in the corner of the wood paneled office, the ANN newscaster was still partway through the latest news headlines, “The President of Quebec, Jacques Rose, defended the actions of the Quebecois navy in the incident yesterday afternoon in which a Greenland freighter was sunk by bombers from the carrier QN Raymond Villeneuve. Relations between Quebec and the Republic of Greenland have become even more strained as of late and many commentators believe war in the North Atlantic may now be inevitable.”
The Governor turned the TV off with a sigh, his knew he ort to have some sympathy for people of his French heritage, but try as he might he just could not manage it, his homeland was still under the thumb of the neo-Fascists. General Maxime Brunerie, who had seized power in the coup last year, the fifth that France had seen in the last decade, was already engaged in a war against the Mahgreb Federation as the first stage in “uniting the pagan, proto-Bolshevik Africans under the reign of the Elect”. Since the war had broken out, Tunis and Marseilles had both been reduced to radioactive ash and around 150 000 troops were dead on either side.
John looked at the documents before him before tossing them into the wastepaper bin with a snort of derision; did the Attorney General really think that he didn’t know about the missing heath insurance?
New Shanghai: South-East Asian Economic and Defence Co-operative Zone
Zack Lynn, American Ambassador to the Empire of Japan stood awkwardly at the edge of the ball hosted by the Japanese military governor of the region, General Yuji Fujinawa. Lynn, who had been forced to vacate his cushy position as the Democratic Governor of Louisiana after disagreeing with President Smith now had to content himself with trying to keep himself occupied in the new régime that Emperor Hitachi had set up ever since the (relatively) bloodless coup he had led against his brother six years ago.
Japans dominant political party, Rikken Yōseikai, which had been reformed in the aftermath of the Japanese reunification wars, was beginning to reestablish the control it had once held over Indochina back in the ‘30s although due to the state of the crater maze that had once been China, Dai-Nippon had so-far only been able to penetrate 10 miles from the coast. But luckily, if all went well, by 2050, Japan would have regained territory as far as the Indian border at Qinghai.
Japan had perhaps benefited the most from the Sino-Soviet and Communist Civil Wars; she had first occupied Kamchatka and Manchuko before moving down the coastline as far as Norodom Sihanouk’s Greater Khmer Empire, a vast nation which had managed to conquer both Laos and the Democratic Federated Republic of Borneo-Sumatra after the old IFPDR had collapsed. In short, she was now the most powerful nation in the east after Charles Yu's empire in Australasia.
Indeed, Lynn thought as he snatched some of that weird raw fish from the passing Pilipino butler, unless you counted Korea (not many people did, surprisingly) East Asia was actually doing quite well considering how much had been thrown at it over the past few years. Of course, one did hear rumours concerning the medical camps on some of the Korean islands, but, the Ambassador thought, who cared what the Japanese did to dissidents just so long as those alluring Geishas remained around to proved some “light relief” for a hard working diplomat?
Jerusalem: Grand Hebrew Republic (Israel)
The Chairperson of the Kadima-Labour Party, Ehud Olmert, walked down the streets of Jerusalem flanked by a number of very tall, very well-trained and very Mossady bodyguards. The Leader of the Opposition was a very paranoid man, even more so since the assassination of General Sharon the other week.
Olmert was that very rarest of things, a liberal Jew. Although of course, “Liberal” had a very different meaning in a State that had undertaken an almost state-sponsored genocide of the Islamists in Arabia and the other areas of the former Jerusalem League. The Motherland Act of the last year had effectively made the worship of Islam illegal and the execution of Abdullah bin al-Hussein, the sole remaining head of the old Middle Eastern Royal Families, had decapitated the formal leadership of the Muslim world.
However, Olmert wondered sadly as his troop marched down towards the remains of the Western Wall, bombed by the PLA back in 2001, the Fundamentalists remained a threat for the entire Republic. The various so-called “Mujahideen” groups had been behind a spate of terrorist atrocities over the past decade. These had included; placing a suitcase nuke in Tel Aviv, spreading anthrax and smallpox dirty bombs in the armed forces and managing to storm the Knesset building in order to gun down half of the cabinet. The damn infidels had even tried to blow up the Dome of the Rock last March, fortunately however, Mossad had been able to stop the attack and the ringleaders of the operation which had included the overall leader, a spoilt young Saudi billionaire. All ten of them had been executed a few weeks ago, televised so as to show the heathens the power of Medīnat Yisrā'el. That had of course only been the beginning; Saudi Arabia had been dissolved after a brief invasion in December and the new Emirates of Nejd and Hejaz were being “de-Islamified” as fast as possible in order to “Ensure peace and stability for the Jewish people”. Olmert gave a cynical laugh; the only thing President Ze’evi wanted from Arabia was more oil revenue to fund the armed forces expansion.
Olmert arrived at his destination, the French Embassy, to meet with the Ambassador about the plans for importing more of the experimental jet fighters; he had been appointed Defence Secretary as part of the Coalition Government and he needed to import the technology, the Air Force still hadn’t mastered jet propulsion.
He entered the airy atrium of the diplomatic building, grateful at least for the effectiveness of the Gallic air conditioning. He paused as he approached the reception desk; the staff were busily rearranging portraits and statues for the benefit of the new administration in Paris. Olmert gave another laugh of contempt, one could set a watch by the regularity of the French Coup’d’etats!
Olmert left the Embassy three hours later with a spring in his step; the French had decided to give the Israelis the technology in return for Iraqi oil. General-President Brunerie must be desperate, Ehud thought, the French must have been better even under the Third Empire, at least they had plenty of food back then. The Defense Secretary paused, perhaps that could be the solution to the shortages in the Palestinian ghettos!
Reykjavik: Republic of Iceland
“I herby call to order this meeting of the Texan-Icelandic Association” Ron Paul, the Chair of the most important business group in the North Atlantic stated in is characteristic tone of voice. “I should like to point out that the pickled herring is superb!” he added to enthusiastic cheering from his fellow members. Paul looked around at some of the most prominent men within the TIA; Perot, who headed the Icelandic Geothermal Energy Consortium, George H. Bush, Chairman of Kopavogur United Fisheries and of course, Warren Buffett, CEO of Valley Falls, which owned more collective wealth than Iceland and Spain-in-Exile combined.
The former leader of the Icelandic Progressive Party had retired last month after twenty years as the Treasury Minister. In his long and…interesting tenure, Paul had removed what remained of the wasteful welfare state, abolished income tax and removed the small stockpile of nuclear weapons left by the Americans. He had also been the driving force behind allowing the Faeroe Islands into the North Atlantic Free Trade Zone after she had declared indepedance from Norway. NAFTZ now encomprised all of the various islands of the Arctic Ocean including Svalbard and Novaya Zemlya, athough the latter had a population of around a dozen!
After the meeting ended, Paul struck up a conversation with Bush who had been criticized for hiring mercenaries to attack British Federation trawlers over fishing quotas. Paul, a natural supporter of free trade had opposed it at the start, but ultimately, his support lay with his Texan colleague over some trumped up Imperialists in London.
Later on, while relaxing in a steam bath on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, Paul thanked his lucky stars for the day he had made the decision to leave Texas. Delivering babies in Rosenberg was not the life for him, no siree! What did he have in Reykjavik? A huge apartment, a large investment bank “Iceland-Svalbard Holdings” and as much Johnnie Walker as he could drink!
Ron Paul laid back in his hot-tub, the hot water easing the rheumatism in his bones. He turned on the radio to listen to the “Voice of America” about the only thing he missed from his homeland. “…nether the British or Bretagne Governments were available for comment regarding the alleged sponsoring of the Welsh Liberation Army. Coming up next, does the Canadian Government really wish to see Ontario enter the Union? And what will the final abolition of the Country mean for North America? Question Time will be chaired by Alex Jones, Professor of International Politics at Harvard. The panel will consist of Secretary of State, Bob Barr, Canadian Prime Minister Kenneth Campbell, British Foreign Secretary Neil Hamilton and Former President Slade Gorton.”
Paul breathed out, appalled, the Americans and British really did allow the most inappropriate people into positions of power!
Paris: Republic of France
The ex-Mayor of Paris, Robert Sarkozy, hurried down the Champs-Elysees as fast as his short legs could carry him, dragging a batted suitcase behind him and tightly grasping a leather bound ledger in his one free hand. Sarkozy’s grip of realpolitick was only slightly less impressive than his sense of self-preservation and it was the latter instinct that had made him decide to leave his office several minutes ahead of a vengeful lynch mob that had stormed the Hotel de Ville to do unto him what Bokassa had done unto the Socialists.
He saw the mass of protesters-come-revolutionaries storming over the rubble of the Arc d'Triomphe carrying the banners bearing the slogan of the first revolution and stepped smartly into the first café on his left. The counter was under-stocked to the point of being empty, but the coffee looked to be the real stuff, not the ground acorns that most places had resorted to selling. He glanced at the flickering, silent black and white television in the corner of the room, yes, the body of poor old General-President Brunerie, riddled with enough bullets to resemble a cheese grater, was being tossed out of the Palace of Versailles by the Robespierreists as the revolutionists had been named. Sarko, as his few friends called him, gave a sigh. Yes it would be better red than dead, but surely the whole business of Eurocommunism was a dead duck? The old Italian Social Republic had fallen last year, the Liberal and Social Republic of Belgium had splinted and by the sounds of it the Iberian Federated Peoples Republic was about to go the same way. Catalonia and the Basque County had already declared independence following the invasion of Andalusia by the Mahgreb Federation. Why was France always twenty years behind the rest of Europe? Robert gave a low moan, who stuck around a dead duck? Not even its mother, she just would just fly off depressed!
The war with North Africa had officially ended two hours ago, the bombing of Orleans had been the final straw for the enraged anti-fascists and the well oiled and supported resistance groups had sprung into action with commendable speed. The Armie Pour la Liberation du France had managed to surround Paris after less than half an hour of fighting, helped perhaps by the defection of so many members of the armed forces. Troops from the various breakaway states such as Lille, Brittany and Bordeaux had also decided that perhaps France would be better reunited and had also joined in what was becoming the best French Revolution for years!
As the last straddles marched whooping towards the Eiffel Tower, the flagpole already flying the blood red banner of the Communist uprising, Sarkozy left the café, readjusted his false beard and very noticeable, green, hooded overcoat before heading towards the Dutch embassy in order to apply for asylum. The Netherlands was perhaps not the place for a moderate Fascist such as him, but it would be better to go there before he decided on whether to head for Britain; sweet, conservative, Britain, or the more racialist yet exciting NGR.
Carrying one third of the Parisian Municipal budget behind him, Sarkozy hoped that he would be able to have the funds available that he would need in order to set up his new life.
Amsterdam: Kingdom of the Netherlands
The British Cultural attaché, Harriet, Lady Harman wandered down the streets of the Dutch capital with a grim sneer upon her face, trying to avoid the worst excesses that were sadly typical to the life of the most liberal state in Europe. The dank allies of the city of canals hid an underworld of brothels and drug parlors, hardly the sort of place for a woman of her upbringing. The government back in Westminster was moderating the somewhat insular attitudes that had prevailed in the British Isles for the past century or so, but still, the diminutive aristocrat shuddered as she inadvertently looked in the window of a “Masaje Parlor” there was no need to moderate that much!
After the Germany and the British Federation, the Netherlands was perhaps the most powerful state in Europe, the Dutch had gained Flanders after Belgium had split fifteen years ago and the small, but the powerful collection of nuclear weapons and atomic cannon on the borders had so far been enough to stop the expansionist views of the GNR and the Haider regime. Harman turned down into a more savory avenue at the bottom of the red-light district and paused to buy a bouquet of fine tulips from the roadside seller. He husband better like them she thought to herself, Robert had been somewhat despondent of late; being lumbered at a desk job at the Ministry of Education was not the job for a man of his intellect. If, no, when Redwood slipped up, which he had to soon, the Federation would soon understand the skills of Prime Minister Silk! He would be just the man to lead the new centrist Conservatives to victory over Hillary Benn's Labour Party and Nick Griffins Nationalists.
As things were however, he would just have to wait. Lady Harman paused to look up at the theater; the “King Wilhelm Theater” was showing the latest play by Ken Loach, “The Voices Amongst the Valley”, some stupid, pro-Celtic rubbish about the Welsh riots in the 1970s. The Ministry of Information had banned it of course, but that hadn't stopped the bloody Dutch from showing it! Who was in it again? What a surprise, that pinko, namby-pamby liberal Michael Caine. The formed golden child of the RSC had also been a major film star before graduating back to the theatre after Hammer Films had been shut down for obscenities after the whole “Movie Malevolent” scares last decade. Since then, he had become the most popular actor in the Low Countries and as a result, been banned from returning to the BF. Harman smiled, that had been the best thing her predecessor, Michael Portillo, had done before he had gone off to become Chancellor.
After jotting down her, less than optimistic report, she looked around for a telecommunications store to send it back to Whitehall. The invention of digital communications by Bernards-Lee at British Technological Industries last year had given the Government a monopoly on computer development, leasing the patents had brought in vast sums of money over the past year. Moving into the shop, she marveled at how far technology had developed over her lifetime, imagine, a computer that could fit inside a room! If things continued at this rate, by 2020, the experts had said that personal computers could cost less than one million pounds! It was scary to think what normal people could do with that level of technology…
20 Miles North of Cape Town: Greater South Africa
Jesse Jackson, senior member of the African Liberation Front leaped over the boundary wall of his safehouse moments ahead of the security forces that had been perusing him for the past twenty-eight years. The former leader of the Black African Militia in Columbia had fled the United States back in 1980 in the last of the great ethnic riots. He had finally begun to take up his aim of taking back his ancestral homeland from the white imperialists. Scrabbling down the bank into the large ranch that lay behind the old colonial villa. Jackson risked a glance sideways towards the driveway that the Security Forces had driven upwards.
Jesse risked a small smile, he felt rather flattered that Colonel de Clerk had felt that an entire tank battalion had been required to take him down. Fleeing to the small, almost invisible bunker hidden in the savannah, Jesse took out the RPG and sniper rifle that he had stashed there; the remnants from one of the last shipments from the East African Federation had managed to seek over the border.
The EAF had gone now, not that it had done the South Africans any good. The East African army had managed to remove the most of the Lake Victoria nuclear stockpile in the early stages of the 1970s war and since that point, entire cities and armies had been blown to smithereens during the occupation of Dar es Salaam, Nairobi and the other various cities of the former Federation. Of course, Jackson mused in silent hatred, the f****** Afrikaans had fought back, mass public executions of natives, regardless of whether they were civilians or freedom fighters, medical experiments on prisoners in order to manufacture discriminatory diseases, he shuddered, he had seen what the Roswell virus had done to poor old Thabo Mbeki in the siege of Voi. His lungs had been coming out of his d*** mouth! Against that sort of inhumanity, what mercy could you have?
Putting the old Chinese made scope to his eye he focused on the leader of the SAISF, he gave a grin akin to that which a lion gives to a cornered antelope, Radovan Karadzic had been one of the number of Eastern European military leaders that had come to Africa after the SPSD had fallen apart, given a choice between starving to death in some tinpot microstate in the Balkans or spending the rest of ones life in a warm, African superpower with as many minorities to shoot as you could wish for. It was not surprising the Serbians and Croats were amongst the largest numbers of minorities (though you must never use that word) within the South African armed forces.
Waiting for the man who had shelled Chingola with Sarin gas to move into the crosshairs, Jesse couldn’t wait until his comrades heard of his dramatic escape and perfect killing of another Slavic maniac…
Rio de Janeiro: High Brazil
Looking out of his mahogany paneled office in the elegant surroundings of the British Embassy, the Ambassador to the most powerful nation in South America looked out on the glass skyscrapers and bludgeoning highways of the Brazilian capital with his characteristic jowl. Gordon Brown, the former Treasury Minister of the final Salmon administration had been rather unceremoniously given the boot after the Isles had reunited back in 2005. The Conservatives, wanting to bundle the Scottish socialists as far away as possible had given Brown the very pleasant posting to the South American Federation in order to advise the Brazilians on the best way to keep her vast territories in Government hands (British armour) how to best exploit the natural resources of Amazonia (British mining) and who to sell the aforementioned riches to (Britain). The return towards isolationism that the NAC had embarked upon had left a large hole in South America and Brazil had been almost as delighted to have found a new patron as Britain was.
Brown gave a sigh as he poured himself another glass of iced water from the drinks cabinet. To his credit, Brown was one unlike many of his Scottish counterparts not to spend the majority of his posting in a drunken stupor, “clean body, clean mind” Gordon mentally reviewed as he crushed some ice into the crystal beaker. Walking back to his desk, his eye wandered over his imported copy of The Times noting nothing other than the capture of Bali by the Australasian army and Labour’s victory over the Nationalists in the Glasgow by-election.
Sitting behind his desk, Brown skimmed through the various minutiae of the day. He briefly read a report on the iron ore mines in the Gran Chacos region, the order forms for a new set of Marlborough-class Tanks and reports for the deteriorating state with the communist guerrillas in Patagonia. Brown smiled humourlessly to himself, of all the places for the Welsh rebels to emigrate to, Argentina was not where he would have expected.
But enough paperwork Brown thought! Life could not be all fun and games! His presence at the Presidential Ball had been made compulsory by both Foreign Secretary Neil Hamilton and the Trade and Industry Secretary Michael Howard, two men that it was not advisable to anger. Dressing into his morning suit that the new Anglophiles of the Brazilian Government had dictated as compulsory, Brown made his way towards the Presidential Palace flying the various flags of the various diplomatic missions that were present within Brazil, le Pen’s Brittany, Haider’s Germany, Yeo’s Australasia and Ahmadinejad’s Iran, with its newly re-established Shardom, were all present, although Brown noticed that no Columbian diplomat was present, no surprises there of course! The vast war in the north had already claimed over one million lives without going nuclear. That at least was not a surprise, President Paulo Maluf was, unlike some of his predecessors, not insane, and Hugo Chavez had no intention of reducing his Socialist Paradise into another China. Still, with the American Liberty Corps pushing into Panama and the Brazilians already in the process of annexing Guyana into their new Empire, it could not be long before either Boliviaoplis, Rio or both went skywards.
Still, Brown thought later, with a contract for Shell to open a new refinery on the Caribbean coastline, who cared what the outcome of the war was, business was business and if a few Latin Americans turned to dust in the process, who cared?
T’bilisi: Confederation of Trans-Caucasian Republics
“How could you say such a thing Boris?” exclaimed the American ambassador to his floppy haired British counterpart “Islam is a religion just like any other”. The two men, the conservative, downtrodden figure of Gerald “Georgie” Lucas and the downtrodden, conservative Maximillian Boris de Runcie Johnson walked down the main street of the grimy and dilapidated Caucasian capital. Troops from the various members of the European Customs Union patrolled the streets from partisans and terrorist activity as groups of shabby and cast down peasants returned from working in the various factories that had been set up by European capital. Lucas sighed, the work was all in good faith but it was like buying a new suit for someone that had died.
“You wouldn’t say that if you had seen what the murderous Ostrogoths had done to Athens George!” the British ambassador to one of the more successful Soviet successor states replied as the two men wandered passed the bombed out remnants of the Presidential Palace, “The Mohammedists want to do to the Western world what the Commies did to each other!” Ambassador Johnson, extreme by the standards of the new “Compassionate” Conservatives had been quietly bundled off to the unstable political scene of the mountainous country in order for him to either be kidnapped or, more hopefully, shot by one of the dozens of rebel factions that littered the region.
Walking into the rather optimistically named “Fairview Café” owned and ran by the ECU, the two men found their usual table, in the corner, near the fire exit, away from the doors and windows. At the front of the coffee shop, as with all diplomatic buildings, the front displayed a table detailing the current level of terrorist alert, today, as always, it was displaying the maximum level of red. Johnson grabbed his copy of The Daily Telegraph from the magazine rack, even out in the Near East, it was difficult to escape the media empire that Sir Jeremy Clarkson had managed to build up, “Not bad for a Yorkshireman” Boris thought to himself as he read the latest news from the situation in China. From the sounds of it, Japan was looking increasingly close to declaring war on Taiwan, “the bloody yellow peril never went away” he grumbled under his breath.
Over two cups of the thick, strong mud that the Fairview called coffee, the two men discussed the various writings that the two prolific authors were working on to eat up the tedium of their unofficial exiles from their homeland. By and large, the brace of diplomats were not the likeliest of friends, one an Oxford Classical academic, the other a former factory owner from California. Both had shared a sizable amount of bad luck that had forced them into Government service however. Johnson had been sacked from his post as the youngest Professor of Classics in British history after making some disparaging remarks to the son of the German ambassador whereas Lucas had lost his factory after he had spoken out against Governor Charles Manson. Still, Johnson had managed to write his theses on the economic legacy of Byzantium and Lucas’s latest short story on the futuristic, all conquering “Imperium of Man” had clearly struck a chord by the newly expansionist, optimistic readers of North America. Maybe Governor Charles Norris, the former martial artist turned politician, would be motivated enough to give him compensation.
As they left the dilapidated café, coats buffeted against the freezing wind that was one of the many legacies from the Soviet Civil War, Gerald and Boris headed towards the Parliament House for the planned oil talks regarding the wells that were just starting to be developed in Baku, they were both thrown to the ground by a group of Islamist terrorists, probably from one of the northern republics. Lucas had his last glimpse of daylight for three months as he was bundled into the Lada Van, vaguely recognizing the keystone member of the International Army of Islam, a figure known to the already bound and gagged Johnson, stood over them with a machete tied around his ex-Anatolian Army combat fatigues, the former playwright turned Muslim fundamentalist, Cat Stevens.
Edinburgh: Federation of the British Isles
The elegant streets of the Scottish capital gleamed with rain, the weak summer sun shining upon the steadily dripping roofs and pavements as the various commuters walked briskly towards their places of employment. Few of these people even noticed the two huddled figures that were purposefully hurrying up Princes Street. The two men, the former Foreign Secretary Ken Livingstone and the Ambassador to the Republic of China (Taiwan), Menzies "Ming" Campbell, had met each other in silence at Kings Cross that morning before boarding the eight-hour trip, in a rattling, coffin-like British Rail train. They were now heading for the latest meeting of the political group that was now challenging for dominance in the “New Britain” of Prime Minister John Redwood and the tightly held power of the Conservative Party.
Ken and Ming turned abruptly down a narrow alleyway at the end of the avenue before rapping a complex series of knocks on the deep set door, oddly out of place in the back wall of the Regency townhouse. The oak entranceway opened the merest fraction as a hushed voice in the darkness called out, “The Eagle flies high over Sevastopol” Livingstone and Cook looked at each other confused before the shorter of the two yelled back “Stop acting like bloody John Gould you ginger-nut!” The head of Robin Cook, flushed with righteous anger, popped out of the door like a rather macabre Jack-in-a-box. “Can it Iguana!” the curiously accented individual replied, “Dow youw whante thi whole bloody street ti hear yi?” Pushing the hapless gentleman aside, the two men crossed the threshold of the building, the brightly lit interior showing the tastefully decorated cloakroom filled with dripping overcoats and furled umbrellas. “Shall I taek yi highli noticeable hooded raincoate whiski-breath?” Ignoring the diminutive politician and concerned not to exacerbate the argument between the two belligerents, Campbell quickly enquired as to the state of the Party meeting. “Thi rest hav alreadi arrived and waiting fore youw and thi newt-lover” the ginger haired politician replied. “We're meeting doon in the cellar ov course, for sercuriti” He added as he opened the door in the mahogany paneled walls.
Walking down into the dank and smoky basement of the house of the former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Ming Campbell looked round the grotto-like atmosphere of the undercroft. At one side of the room lay a map of the poor, ragged earth, the corners curled with damp. Campbell sighed as he looked at Europe, the only nations of any real size jumped out at him, the red bulk of the British Federation, with its protectorates of Cyprus, Malta and Calais next to the grey mass of the NGR, which already stretched to the Baltic States and Hungary. The newly formed Peoples Liberal Republic of France, the new name unmarked, lay squished between them. To the east of Germany, a patchwork of various microstates and national republics, created in the aftermath of the Soviet Civil War, lay as a veritable smorgasbord on the chart, ranging from the relatively powerful expanses of the Volga Republic and Tatarstan to virtual nonentities such as the Khamchatkan Directorate and Ural Confederacy. Smiling sadly to himself at the poor state of the world, Campbell shook his head, still, that was something that the Social and Liberal Democratic Party had been founded to solve. The uneasy coalition of figures ranging from former One-Nation Tories to hardcore Marxists had been formed to create a loose leftist opposition to aid Hilary Benn’s Labour Party after he had moved the group towards the right. Not that such a move would be welcomed by the Government, hence the reason that the party had to meet in secret, far away from Westminster.
Alexander Salmon, the Party Chair and former Prime Minister stood up whilst rapping table with his teaspoon. “I call to order the 4th meeting of the Social and Liberal Democrats. Please welcome our newest members to our noble endevour, Mr. George Galloway and Sir Kenneth Clark”. The former Ambassador to the Jerusalem League and Michael Foot’s penultimate Chancellor of the Exchequer both stood to a round of unenthusiastic applause from the floor. “We are all of us gravely concerned regarding the newest piece of legislation regarding the latest round of security measures of the borderline Fascists in Whitehall, the question of our response is something we must discuss and decide upon at once”
“Shpeaking ash a former Prime Minishter Alex” Tony Benn hailed from the end of the table, “It musht be said that thish hash the potenshal to undermine everything that thish nation hash recovered from over the pasht thirty yearsh”. Tony Benn had retired from politics as soon as his referenda back in the ’70 had backfired with the secession of England, his failure to see the nationalism of the English electorate had forced him to head back into self imposed exile. Still, his economic reforms had still left him as a relatively popular figure amongst the left of the party.
“Shut it you trilobite” the highly pitched voice of John Cunningham screeched, “We need action chum, not words from a failed aristocrat like you”.
“Quiet you smuck!” Alan Sugar, the MP for Tower Hamlets ordered from the seat to Benn’s right, “I know more about the real world than you, never seen the streets of Hackney have you, you smoosher!”
“Oh take a chill pill yid!” the relaxed voice of Des Browne retorted, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, even I’m sick of that damn Dick Widdington story”
“This is typical of you Des” Professor David Mitchell, the Cambridge academic yelled, “What the hell gives you the right to be an anti-Semite all of a sudden?”
As the entire meeting dissolved into insults, shouting and personal abuse Alex Salmon buried his face in his hands in quiet desperation. Turning to the figure of the former actor Sean Connery on his left, he took out the pack of Nintendo playing cards from his pocket. He had met Shigeru Miyamoto on his final state visit to Japan back in the summer of 2003. Miyamoto had developed his operation into one of the largest corporations in the Far East in a show of the newly found Japanese confidence. Nintendo even made woodwork tools stamped with their mascot, the cartoon character Jumpman. “Deal ‘em again Sean” he said, the two Scots grinning to themselves at the classic reference to an excellent celluloid film.
Interlude: Brave New Universe
Excerpts from The Economist: Half Year World Review
July 2008 saw the end of the line for John Redwood’s increasingly autocratic Government in London. Hilary Benn, son of the former Prime Minister Tony Benn, saw his newly centrist Labour Party sweep to power alongside the ragtag coalition of former Liberals and Socialists known as the Social and Liberal Democrats. Benn has immediately made moves to reach out to the North American Confederacy, speaking of his intention to create a “Transatlantic Anglosphere”…
…The Peoples Republic of France was born in a true baptism of fire in early July as revolutionaries seized power in Versailles and Paris. Although previous hopes of rebuilding the nation to the size of its pre-1939 borders have failed, the formation of the Francophone Union between the breakaway states have improved hopes amongst liberals within the Peoples Assembly that the nation may yet be restored to its former glory…
…Corsica was the centre of a failed coup by the son of the Former Emperor of the French, Jean Bokassa-Napoleon, in April. No formal communiqué from the Mediterranean island regarding the incident has been received at the time of going to press…
…The nuclear destruction of Boliviaopolis, whilst certainly putting to rest President Smith’s hopes of a second term for the 2009 election, has most definitely strengthened the NAC’s dominant position in South America. While High Brazil has enjoyed a boom in the value of mineral deposits within Amazonia, problems with Argentinean guerrillas in Patagonia have limited the Brazilian push into the former Grand Columbia…
…With the scandalous death of her egotistical Prime Minister, Charles Yeo following his death from asphyxiated due to a less than savory costume; the Peoples Republic of Australasia is rapidly having to coming to terms with the collapse of the Socialist Party. However, with the war against the Khmer Empire bringing Australasian troops to the gates of Phnom Phen, the dominance of the great southern federation must not be underestimated by the growing power of India. Indeed the Hindutva, who once again stand on the edge on acquiring nuclear weapons, must be cautious during the second stages of their invasion of Burma…
…President F.W. de Clerk, who seized power in South Africa three weeks ago, is enjoying record popularity amongst the white minority. While the Republic only narrowly escaped international sanctions after the mass executions of a thousand members of the African Liberation Front, the messages of support from the Haider regime have ensured that the principles of apartheid may continue for some time at least…
…reconstruction in the National Republic of Muscovy is enjoying great success after record funding from the EU has resulted in the nations GNP per person rise to almost $3000, one of the largest in the former Soviet Union. In a message to the Duma in Kirov, Director Vasiliy Kulik has pledged “The reconstruction of Moscow shall be built upon the bodies of the enemies of White Russia…
…Hopes are high in Naples and Milan that the divided nation may soon be united. The Azione Sociale has expressed support for maintaining the monarchy in the event of any unification and the Fascists remain confident that Pope Francis and the Vatican will also be supportive of any such move…
…The rapidly deteriorating situation in the Arctic Circle now threatens to engulf Norway, Iceland and Nova Scotia after Quebecoise naval vessels exchanged fire with a number of freighters within the Icelandic Straights. The members of the newly formed “Halifax Pact” have threatened Quebec with armed responses if the situation becomes worse. However, a peace deal, brokered by Prime Minister Samaranch of Catalonia may yet be supported by the warring powers…
…Reports from China indicate that radiation levels within the nation may not be as high as previously believed. 35 years on from the Sino-Soviet War, the remnants of the Chinese population has recovered to a population of 148 million, mainly concentrated in the west of the nation in a loose triangle between Tibet, Greater Mongolia and India. Reconstruction by Japan has been hampered however due to clashes with the Taiwanese enclave at Macau. The British city of Hong Kong however remains a major base for the Royal Navy…
…Sir Jeremy Clarkson, the British media mogul, has announced that he may run as an independent candidate in the forthcoming London Mayoral Election. Clarkson, as head of the Guardian, Express, Daily Mail and Telegraph newspapers is seen as being a very viable candidate…
…A new breakthrough in computer technology, the variable resistor has been invented by the American Computer Firm, International Computing and Calculating Industries. The Chief Executive of ICCI, Will Wright has pledged to share the technology with rivals and some experts have predicted that home computers may be a reality by the end of the 2020s…
…The ECU has discussed tentative plans for a manned mission to the moon by 2015. The European Space Agency in Triodhelm will in all likelihood be the main launch base for the Frederick the Great space plane…
…The athletes of the National German Republic have relegated America to a distant second in the medal table at the Summer Olympics in Copenhagen. In a message to the German team, The Reichspresident congratulated all sportspersons for “Showing the dominance of the Germanic people over all others”. The games were however slightly overshadowed with the murders of 32 members of the Israeli Athletics Team after their section of the Olympic Village was stormed by members of the PLA. President Ze’evi has pledged to “Attack the Islamo-fascists with all the power of Holy Israel”…
…Owing to the poor security situation in Rio de Janeiro, the 2012 Games may now be moved to London, Chicago or Melbourne…
…Singapore is our top destination for the summer, with its fine Asiatic cuisine, the hustle and bustle of the vast open air markets and the intricate maze of alleyways, this large and busy metropolis is well worth more than a stopover on the way to Sydney. The growing litter problem however is something that needs to be rectified [1]…
…Prince James, eldest son of King Edward IX married his childhood sweetheart, Lady Diana Spencer, in a ceremony at Westminster Abbey in June. The event was attended by every Royal Family in Europe, including members of the newly restored Belgian, Bulgarian and Grecian monarchies. Press speculation regarding Lady Diana’s alleged anorexia failed to put the damper on the festivities…
…Our tip to be this years summer blockbuster? Breakin’ VII: Dance Rock Heaven...
…the new British prog-rock band, The Flighty Zeus [2] stormed into the national lexicon this May with their numerous humorous and catchy songs. Look out for them in the future!
I do hope that you have enjoyed this small interlude!
[1] Apologies!
[2] Well, you need some laughs, even in a dystopia!
Labour Family Values
“Pip…pip…pip…We apologise for the inconvenience…Grand and Supreme General Secretary Chikatilo is still alive…”
Looped CCCP State Radio Broadcast following the Glorious Wars of Cleansing
“The hiatus is finally over comrades!”
Martin Moore to the 2008 Socialist Party Conference
London: Federation of the British Isles
Despite everything that had been throw at it over the past sixty years, the polished black door of Number 10 Downing Street remained a constant in the otherwise turbulent maelstrom of British Politics. The final WLA bombing campaign of the late 1980s may have killed a fifth of Michael Foot’s Cabinet, but unlike the vile concrete bunkers that had gone up in other areas of the metropolis, the elegant Stuart terrace remained largely intact. Within the Cabinet Rooms, Prime Minister Hilary Benn cast his eyes over the grim set faces of his Cabinet, puzzled at the lack of energy within the room.
“What on earth is the matter with you all comrades?” he called, with a level of joviality that showed that he was anything but cheerful. The Labour Party may have been handed a landslide three months prior, but currently the nation seemed gripped in a hopeless malaise, somthing not helped by the unseasonably cold weather.
“Hilary, the problem can be summed up by the old couplet” Chancellor Hattersley replied from the Premier’s immediate right, “We’d like to save the country but by jingo if we do”…“We’ve got no men, we’ve got no wits and we’ve got no money too” Jeremy Corbyn finished the rhyme from the far end of the table. Benn clicked his teeth in disappointment at the refrain. The news about the lack of currency was at least nothing new, the Bank of England had effectively bankrupted herself trying to keep the Pound stable against the Reichsmark and Berlin was becoming more demanding everyday. The whole problem with the Single Currency Area was just one of the many problems that had originated from British membership of the European Customs Union.
“Can we not sell our assets in Aden at all then?” Benn replied, “After all, it is not easy maintaining troops both there and in Nigeria”. That was more than a little true, the Clarkson press were already calling the guerrilla war against Biafra “Britain’s Venezuela” and, Benn though miserably, everyone knew how President Smith's little escapade there had ended.
“Not if you want to see us revert back to the Seventies Benny-boy” Charles Clark stated from the far end. “The oil wells in Arabia will not be operational for at least another five years and after we defaulted on that last lone the Norwegians won’t touch us with a barge pole”
“And other clichés too numerous to mention” the Prime Minister replied. “I’ll get Ambassador Richardson to ask the Yanks for another loan, not that it will do us much good” Sir Ian was a fine debater, yet Hilary wondered how much further he could push L. Neil before the latter finally lost his already frayed temper. Losing the Republican Nomination to his young protégé Randy Parker may not have helped. Still, the race to the White House between the Republican-Libertarians, Socialists and Federalists would certainly be an interesting one.
The meeting closed at something past three…
Heading down the main staircase, Lord Ashdown and David Owen both cast their eyes over the various photographs on the wall; Churchill, Bevin, Eden, MacMillan, Bevan, Jenkins, Powell, Wilson and Benn senior. Both gave their usual smiles at the situation near the first floor landing, did one include the rump United Kingdom PM’s, the English ones, both or neither? In the end, the Crown had chosen the most inelegant choice, portraits of Michael Foot and Neil Kinnock had been hammered home above Enoch Powell, Reginald Maudling and Alexander Salmond, ruining the symmetry of the room. John Redwood had the newest portrait, hung just above Jeffery Archer’s, the pairing of Archer and Redwoord had already been dubbed "The Crook and the Fascist" by the staff of Downing Street.
Ashdown and Owen were two liberals who had joined the Labour Party more as a means of punishing the Tories than by any real support for Socialism. True, the Conservatives were out of office, but what would their response be later on? Farage and Kilroy-Silk were the two frontrunners in the leadership election and who could bare to contemplate the horrors that they would inflict on the country…
…“No”, Dr. Owen thought to himself, all things considered, Britain was better off under the Labour Party.
Algiers: Maghreb Federation
Five months on from their victory in the Guerres d'Expansion Glorieuse, the Wars of Glorious Expansion, the population of the Maghreb Federation was still celebrating the victory of the Pied-Noir’s over their hated brethren in Metropolitan France. The festive attitude however had not rubbed off on the shadowy group of men congregating inside the cramped back room of Café de Lune D'hiver.
The electric fan rattled noisily above the hubbub of the street outside, failing to disturb the smoky, acrid air within as cigars were lit, coffee was poured and chairs were moved around the heavy oak table that had been pushed behind the counter. The various members of La Organisation pour l'Unité Française; the secret society that had been set up to reunited the scattered French people under a single government was meeting together for the first time in months, the last time they had met, the ash had just finished falling around the remains of Tunis.
The side door opened to reveal the figure of Lieutenant-General Jean Bastien-Thiry, a veteran of countless conflicts against the Arab heathens and the former Minister for War. A chair was pushed aside for the de facto leader of the group as the most powerful figure in the organization took his seat next to Jerome Challe, the son of Maurice. Taking his service revolver from the holster, he placed it upon the table in front of him, the sign that the meeting had begun.
The Maghreb Federation had gained a reputation for being the most depraved place on the planet, awash with crime, sex and drugs trafficking. As a result, it was one of the most popular destinations for American tourists taking in a tour of the Mediterranean Coastline. Currently, Sidney Meier, a middle-aged insurance salesman from Ontario was taking in the sights of the capital, his camera working overtime to capture the huge and austere Monument des Martyrs, the gigantic edifice that proudly remembered the victors of the War of Independence. Smiling at the shear hideousness of the memorial, Meier turned round to find a coffee shop; he had not had a decent cup since he had left Genoa.
He stopped just before entering the first one in came to in order to get his bearings, the old Casbah was undoubtedly lovely but it was extremely easy to loose ones bearings in the labyrinthine maze of the citadel’s souks. “Stop you fool, they’re suede!” he shouted at the young Arab boy who had bent down to polish his shoes, too late however, her noticed that another, larger boy had snuck up to him and without much ceremony, a large fist was slammed into the unlucky Ontarian’s stomach. Feeling his camera and wallet snatched away from him, Meier had only enough time to bend double to avoid vomiting over the cobbles, the damn police around her probably had some stupid law that made polluting ancient monuments illegal. Dazed, and without any money aside the emergency $500 note in his ruined loafers, Meier finally entered the café for what was proving to be his most expensive cup of coffee in his life.
The coffee shop was heavy with thick cigar smoke, an old gramophone on the counter blared out a chintzy folk song to the bored looking clientele. Most of them were French-Algerians, but here and their Meier espied the occasional member of the native Algerians intellectual class, the “oulemas”, the least discriminated against of the second class citizens of the Federation. In the typically hesitant French of the inexperience traveler, Meier ordered a “café ou lat” and a “Crossantandwich” from the surly woman at the counter. Signing to himself, he found a table and wondered how he was going to break the news of his mugging to his wife.
Suddenly, he heard a commotion from behind the beaded curtain; he paused and looked around, had no one else noticed the commotion? Rather than reacting, the customers seemed to be studying the floor with a great deal of intensity. “Ezcusem Mwa mongsuwer” Meier called to the man sitting next to him “But cannez vouse teller mwa what is…um…going on?”
Before the man could answer, a gun shot rang out from the back room. Two minutes later, two men, wearing thick balaclavas despite the heat, came out carrying a large carpet that had once been blue but had now acquired a strange, purplish colour. “Vous n'avez vu rien, n'est ce pas?” the young Major stated from the front porch. Meier fled the café in terror, maybe Yellowstone would be a better idea next summer.
Back in Café de Lune D'hiver, General Bastien-Thiry reloaded his revolver in silence, now that that irritating young yid had been dealt with, perhaps the OUF could get back on with the revolution. He doubted that anyone would miss Alain Chabat very much anyway.
A Matter of Public Interest
To the Secretary of State: Robert L. Barr
Robert;
Please find enclosed the requested data on currently known nuclear powers as of 27th September 2008. For your convenience I have taken the liberty of subdividing the list into official nuclear powers under the terms of the Nuclear Possession Pact of 2006 and those powers known to have nuclear weapons but who are as of yet undeclared. These catagories are further subdivided into the predicted stockpiles and delivery systems of the said weapons.
N.B: For weapons systems encompassing multiple weapons classes, the most common mode in use is given only
N.N.B: Please note that this list does not include weapons in the possession of prescribed terrorist groups (E.G. African Liberation Front)
Declared Nuclear Powers
North American Confederacy: 13, 450
Orbital Aircraft Delivery: Robert Dorman Class Type II Space Plane
Intercontinental High-altitude Bomber: Constitution Class
International Medium-altitude Bomber: Gallatin Class
Nuclear Artillery: Kennedy Mk. VI Howitzer (360 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Virginia Class
Federation of the British Isles: 4, 467
IHAB: Churchill Class
IMAB: Disraeli Class
Nuclear Artillery: Elizabeth II M130 Howitzer (320 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: St. Albans Class
National Republic of Muscovy: 3,560
IMAB: Peter the Great Class
Nuclear Artillery: Tsar Class Mk. X Howitzer (320 mm)
National German Republic: 2, 500 (aprox.)
OAD: Frederick the Great Class Space Plane
IMAB: Teutonic Class
Nuclear Artillery: Charlemagne Mk. III Howitzer (320 mm)
Peoples Liberal Democratic Republic of France: 2, 330
IHAB: Robespierre Class
IMAB: Barras Class
Nuclear Artillery: Jeanne d’Arc M100 Howitzer (300 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Thiers Class
Empire of Japan: 2, 246
IHAB: Emperor Showa Class
IMAB: Tokyo Class
Nuclear Artillery: Type 17 Howitzer (250 mm)
Maghreb Federation: 2, 165
IHAB: Algiers Class
IMAB: Maurice Challe Class
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Louis XIV Class
Republic of Australasia: 1, 560
IMAB: Murray-Darling Class
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Darwin Class
Kingdom of Sweden: 1, 000 (aprox.)
IMAB: Stockholm Class
Nuclear Artillery: Vasa Class Mk. XI Howitzer (280 mm)
Republic of High Brazil: 600 (aprox.)
IMAB: Rio de Janeiro Class
Nuclear Artillery: Amazonia Class M150 (275 mm)
Kingdom of the Netherlands: 515
Nuclear Artillery: Orange Class Mk. II Howitzer
Republic of Quebec: 450
Nuclear Artillery: Montreal Class Type 2 Class (260 mm)
IMAB: Saint Lawrence Class
Republic of Brittney: 200
Nuclear Artillery: Le Pen Class
Grand Columbia: 150*
IMAB: Bolívar Class
Republic of Sardinia: 160
IMAB: Cagliari Class
Liberal Democratic Republic of Portugal: 20 (aprox.)
IMAB: Victory Class
*Grand Columbian stockpile in the process of disarmament under terms of Treaty of Montevideo
Undeclared Nuclear Powers:
N.B All delivery systems currently unknown
N.N.B All totals given are approximations
Grand Hebrew Republic: 1, 000
Union of Greater South Africa: 1, 000
East African Federation: 800
Union of India: 320
National Social Republic of Italy: 150
Kingdom of Italy-Two Sicilies: 120
National Republic of Hungary: 115
Republic of Warsaw: 113
Ukrainian Peoples Republic (Kiev): 110
Volga Republic: 100
Islamic Federative Republic of Tatarstan: 100
Peoples Republic of Anatolia: 100
Republic of Finland: 90
South Urals Confederation: 85
Republic of Denmark: 85
Kingdom of Flanders: 80
Republic of Greater Mongolia: 50
Republic of Sevastapol: 45
Greater Khmer Empire: 30*
*Confirmed after numerous detonations during Battle of Siem Reap
I do hope that this provides the information that you required Bob. I am almost certain that the total number of nuclear powers in the former Soviet Union is far higher, (the total number accounted for going by the current data is equal to less than 30% of the 1972 total) but information from the successor states is so scarce that it is impossible to know for sure what the current totals are. If you required any further information please do not hesitate to contract me.
Best of luck for the elections, I am sure that you will all miss El Neil but Randy Parker is a safe pair of hands, even if he is a bit of an idle doodler (did you see the cartoons that he did of the Cabinet the other week? The ones that looked like they were made out of circles of paper?). Anyway, let us hope that the damn Socialists don’t get in, the Federalists may talk a good game, but where do they stand on the question of the immigrants coming over to deflower our white Caucasian blood? Perhaps I could draw your attention back to the proposed repatriation plan dating back from the McGovern years, Operation Tennenbaum. I would be more than willing to enclose a copy during the next meeting of Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Yours with all due respect;
William L. Pierce
William L. Piece
Director
The Million Voices on the Wind
Rohtang Pass: Union of India
The following transcript is a copy of a memorandum that was found by a group of Japanese mountaineers lodged under a rock in a small cave within the Himalayas, close to the town of Leh; the original manuscript can be found in the archives of the Imperial Geographical Society in Tokyo…
It has been three days since I managed to escape the hideous chimera house of Camp 34, the vile security prison on the plateau of the Hindu Kush, and I can feel my strength beginning to leave me. Oh, the shame of failing my comrades who are dying within that hellish place! The camp has no walls within the prison yard; they must have known that the hundred miles of snow, ice and rock work better than any mere fence can in preventing escape. The things I have seen within that prison though…they are worse than anything I could have imagined. This cave offers very little shelter, and I struggle to hold onto this pencil. Perhaps if you know more about my life, dear reader, you may better understand what I have done.
I remember little of my life in South Africa, the rise of apartheid robbed my father of what little he had in the racial purges of the nineteen-fifties, the racist rhetoric soon gave way to murder and ethnic cleansing. After District Six was bombed by the SADFAF, the attack that killed my mother, my father knew that we had to leave the country for good. The British Federation, though back then it was the United Kingdom of course, seemed welcoming to us immigrants who had everything to give to rebuild the nation after the war.
We arrived at Southampton on the day Aneruin Bevan died, I never knew much about him, although my father had always spoken of the Labour Party with reverence since they gave India her independence back in ’48. Times were harsh but fair in London, father soon managed to find a work as a clerk in the Colonial Office and I worked hard enough at night school to get my degree in between menial jobs in Spitalfields. For a while, the Government seemed happy for us Indians to work alongside the white British, that all changed when Powell took power.
Father stayed up on election night with horror in his eyes, he couldn’t believe that the British, whom he and I had always had the greatest amount of respect for, could be fooled by the populism Powell proclaimed about the “Tiber, flowing with blood”. Father was perhaps the most skilled clerk in his office; he must have worked twice the hours of his co-workers, yet of course, it was he who was made redundant, a “reorganisation of staff” they called it.
He never got another job, he scavenged for work, doing the most degrading, tedious tasks, yet he never made more than pennies. One day, a group of young hooligans tipped a bucket of cow’s blood over him. I saw him enter our tenement block, weeping as he locked himself in our room.
They cut him down the next day.
I spent the next five years in a daze, wandering up and down the country. I saw the Welsh Riots in Cardiff and Fishguard, I remember the years of fear and loathing when civil war broke out between the two, once close races, I was present when Thatcher and her cronies attempted their ill-fated coup against Tony Benn, I saw all this, and thought of my Homeland, far across the sea.
I arrived in Calcutta in the summer of 1980, the year the Soviets finally turned in on themselves in the nuclear holocaust that accompanied the fall of Chikatilo. The Hindutva were already gaining in popularity back then, Muslim and Sikh alike were already running scared, I didn’t care back then, I was home, and amongst people who could respect me for whom I was, not whom I should have been.
The party were swept to power in 1984, the year that the Europeans orbited the planet and Mexico was invaded by the Americans, not for the first time I should add! Respectful of the legacy of my grandfather, I was given a high-ranking, but largely ceremonial role in the Government in Delhi, supervising the creation of the partition wall with Pakistan. Did I know about the dark heart of my Government comrades, the purges of the non-Hindu classes, the reestablishment of the caste system, and the nuclear program in Kashmir? Yes, of course, but what could I have done? What would you have done?
I knew what nuclear bombs could do, I visited the border of what used to be China, from the missile bases in Nepal, one could see to the blackened, twisted landscape of what had been the oldest civilisation on earth, but the Chinese were not worthy of sympathy in the new Hindu Empire, at least, that I what I was told. Up on the snowline, one could almost hear the screams of the tormented souls, eking out a living on that darkening plain.
The administration became even more paranoid during the 1990’s, we were so close to the weapons that would have given us control of Indochina, but after the invasion of Pakistan and President Attri’s personal orders to flood Bangladesh. I knew I could go no further.
Perhaps I could have survived, had the Americans not bombed Mumbai and the nuclear plants. Someone had to take the fall, and that someone, as the grandson of a known pacifist, was me. I was sentenced to a life of hard labour in the windswept plateaux on the roof of the world.
I can feel the chill of these icy winds forcing me onwards, unless by some miracle I survive this arduous journey, know that what I have done has been within the pursuit of freedom, liberty and democracy with the aim of these values being re-established for all time.
I sign this with my true name;
Arun Manilal Ghandi
A bunker, somewhere in the Directorate of Kamchatka…
“Are the warheads close to completion?”
“Nnn…nnnot quite yet General Secretary, the anthrax cultures still need time for development and the refrigeration tanks are still too…”
“Baa!” ejaculated the former leader of the Soviet Union to his cowering chief scientist. It had been “Nnn...nnnot quite yet!” for the past eighteen years. He was not a man easy to anger, but sometimes those wastrels who had fled Moscow with him were simply too lazy to believe.
Still, he had been waiting eighteen years for this moment of triumph and in God’s name (if he was the type of man who believed in God) he could wait some time yet.
Pausing to reflect once more on the genius of his masterplan, Andrei Chikatilo began to laugh…
“One-Third of American Men suffer from Election Problems”
Today, we look at everyday life in the North American Confederacy in the run up to the 2008 Presidential Election.
I shall also be posting a map of the world at some point, although as my Paint.NET skills are so utterly abysmal I do hope that you will not be too disappointed at my efforts. If anyone would like to have a go themselves at improving my mapmaking efforts I would be very grateful!
Chicago, Illinois: North American Confederacy
Gail Winfrey, deputy political editor for the Chicago Tribune, calmly walked through Lincoln Park, savoring the last few days of the autumn. Although already well into October, the air was still warm and dry from the westerly winds, the air bringing in the tangible tang of agriculture from the Great Plains.
Winfrey gave an appreciative nod as she bought a paper from the nearby news stand. After decades of decline, the City Council had finally got into the spirit of urban renewal and the largest green space in the city was finally being rejuvenated from the shootings and bombings that had been the order of the day back in the 70’s. Illinois had recovered far more than most States in the NAC from the race riots of the Gable, Foss, McGovern and Jones Presidencies, but Winfrey was still one of the rarest things in America, a prominent black woman.
As she passed the statue of Former-President Grant, Winfrey reflected on her life, she had fled, along with her mother to the Prairie State back in ’62, as the South (well, every where, but the South in particular) erupted into the near-civil that followed the whole Lafollette Square Debacle. She had had to work hard to survive during those “Years of Fire and Smoke” as the Afro-American Community had dubbed those hard years during the sixties and seventies. Oddly enough, it had been the Haig Years, when America had become a virtual dictatorship, that the persecution had finally begun to stop. Opposition to the military had united most of the Left and Centrists against the autocracy of Haig and Gorton.
She sat outside her favorite park café and ordered a cappuccino. Formally one of a vast number of exotic and rare delicacies, the abolition of most sales taxes and the end of economic protectionism had finally given ordinary Americans access to cheese that wasn’t orange and hallucinogenic, coffee that wasn’t powdered and freeze-dried and vegetables other than potatoes and carrots. Winfrey was loathed to call herself a Smithite, after all, the black community was never going to get out of the almost terminal poverty most were born into without some state assistance, but still, it really was damn good coffee!
A natural liberal, Winfrey was a keen reader of the New York Times, which was now, after being shut down for most of the eighties, once again the natural newspaper of the left in America.
Smoothing out the creased front cover, the journalist began to read.
Quote:
WASHINGTON: With less than a month to go before Election Day, a gap between candidates has yet to open in the race to the White House. In a statement to the Republican-Libertarian Party, President Smith stated that, “A vote for anyone but Randy Parker is a vote for interference and creeping Socialism”. The President’s comments have proved controversial in Congress however with numerous Federalists calling foul over what Montana Senator Richard Jore claimed to be “bitter and twisted sentiments from a Presidential Pariah” with his running mate Ann Coulter also claiming that “The nation has had enough of this closet Communist”. Governor Parker hit back over comments regarding his relative youth and inexperience claiming that “I intend to prove that all Americans will respect my administrations authority” [1].
These comments came after the latest opinion polls showed Senator Jore with a slim lead over Governor Parker in Tennessee. Senator Moore’s campaign team has already pulled out of the state, effectively creating a two-horse race between Libertarians and Federalists within the south. However, the Socialist Party will have been encouraged by good showings in both Maine and California, where the latest polls predict a handsome victory for Moore. Both of Moore's opponents have also pulled out of Columbia, Manitoba and Saskatchewan, the first time that the former Canadian Provinces will vote as full member states. However, Alberta remains a toss-up between Parker and Jore.
The latest poll conducted by the Times has revealed a current voting breakdown of;
31% Parker-Giuliani (Libertarian-Republican)
30% Jore-Coulter (Federalist)
28% Moore-Edwards (Socialist)
11% Undecided
LONDON: The Conservative Party officially split yesterday, with Libertarians under the leadership of the former Defence Secretary David Davis leaving the party after the Neo-Powellite candidate Robert Kilroy-Silk was elected Party Leader. Mr. Davis left the party along with around 70 fellow MPs claiming that, "I can no longer serve under a party of such extremist ideology". In a statement to the House of Commons, Home Secretary Cruddas claimed that...
Winfrey stopped reading as she contemplated how she was going to vote, whilst she despised the lack of funding that the Fed was giving to vulnerable figures in society, the more northern states were effectively free to do as they wished when it came to taxation. Illinois had followed Vermont, Oregon and several other states in refusing to abolish Income tax, and although the police force had been privatized, the education systems of most of the Northern states had yet to be.
The election was turning out to be a puzzler, no mistake about it…
Finishing her coffee, Winfrey had only enough time to read a brief story about some lawyer named “Barrack Obrama” or something like that, being sentenced to life over alleged terrorist activities conducted back in the ‘70s with the old “Black Underground Movement”.
As she walked back towards her office, Winfrey couldn’t help but wonder if this anti-Government stance was the right thing to do. Granted, taxes were very low nowadays, but equally, with so much money to spend on formally free or subsidized products, she wondered if people really were better off under the Libertarians. Equally, the occupation of Central America couldn’t be sustained for much longer without some Government intervention at least, could it?
Pausing only to look at the tragically humorous fight between competing park maintenance companies, sixteen private firms now existed in the city where there had formally been one controlled by the city council. Winfrey wondered, not for the first time, if she should immigrate somewhere else. Europe was still too volatile; Chancellor Jorg Haider had already begun to move troops towards the border with the Republic of Cracow [2] and there were increasingly strange rumours coming from the Russian Far East about, something…
Perhaps Australasia would be a good idea, she though; rich, liberal but not too liberal, in need of jobs and peaceful now that the war with the Khmer Empire was nearly over. She had also heard that houses in Sydney were far superior to her pokey little flat near the squat grey monstrosity of the Sears Tower. Maybe she should think about the job after all. Now, if only Bill would stop going on about moving to Britain all the time. He seemed to have the most terrible case of Anglophilia, maybe that was the thing about Iowans, never happy in one place for too long…
[1] Or should that be “authoritah!”
[2] No car crash for him in TTL
Things Fall Apart
Lagos: Dominion of Nigeria
“It’s a good speech, just a little too long” commented Prime Minister Chinua Achebe to his Attorney General. “It’s exceptionally good as a matter of fact,” Charles Thomas gave one of his rare smiles at the complement as he polished his trademark horn-winged spectacles.
“Well, I always did have a way with words Chinua!” Thomas replied with a trace of irony. “It is hardly my position to order you what to say of course, but we have to be clear in how we are to address the Governor-General”. The two men, two of the brightest in the whole of Nigeria had been preparing this speech for months, but, with the sizable nuclear-armed garrison in RAF Lagos Island, nether had been willing to pull the tail of the British Lion. With the fall of John Redwood however, Prime Minister Benn seemed far more willing to compromise on the question of Nigerian independence.
Yawning to himself as he stood up from the colonial-era desk, Achebe walked to the opened window of his Official Residence. The office, built at a time when a quarter of the world had been pink, was almost oppressively British; wood-panelling, floor to ceiling bookshelves and heavy mahogany furniture all gave an aura that was more fitting to an Oxbridge college than an African legislative building.
“You know Charles”, Achebe said wearily, as he paced his inner sanctum “I am tired of this job”. This was true at least; as head of the National Congress Party of Nigeria, he had been Prime Minister for over 24 years. As one of the longest serving heads-of-Government in Africa, and certainly the most respected, he had decided to leave office with a bang by declaring the establishment of a Constitutional Convention to decide on the future of Nigeria’s co-operation with the British Federation.
The Dominion of Nigeria had come into existence back when the United Kingdom had split back in the ‘70s. It had been the last ditch attempt by Enoch Powell to keep the country under British control by granting the Nigerians full autonomy in the same vain as Canada and Australia. Although many nationalists, Achebe amongst them, had opposed the plan, after seeing the state of the former French territories in the aftermath of the bombing of the “Equatorial Pork Farms” most had consented to remain under the (mostly) benevolent wing of Whitehall. Many had not however, which had been the primary reason for the long and bloody civil war with Biafra. Achebe had supported his countrymen in the South to start with, but after they made deals with the French Imperial Remnant in Chad to supply the remaining facilities with captured troops, he had been forced to give up on them.
“I am sure that Lord Portillo will co-operate” Thomas said, interrupting Achebe’s fitful reminiscing of those dreadful times, “He has always been supportive of ways of limiting the pressures on the British Exchequer”. Thomas had used his superb legal mind, in addition to his unscrupulous personality, to carve out one of the largest business empires in West Africa. Although, given some of the areas that his corporation had driven into, he had been careful to ensure that,the position that he held in his organisation was somewhat less responsible for legal matters than the tea ladies.
A tall, impeccably tailored butler entered the office without a sound, carrying a tray. “Care for some tea Charles?” Achebe offered, proffering the silver teapot. Thomas shook his head; he had never been too fond of the beverage, he much preferred coffee.
“I wondered if perhaps, you had considered changing your mind about nationalising the oil companies after Independence?” the Attorney General asked. “I would stand to loose a great deal of money if the Government was to do so”
“I am sorry Charles” Achebe lied “But the needs of the majority must go before the needs of the few”. The Prime Minister was disappointed at his colleague’s refusal to give up his assets. Did he not have enough money already? Still, perhaps some arrangement could be met before too long, he thought as he sipped his rather bitter tea.
“Have you given any consideration to your replacement Chinua?” Thomas persisted, “Only, I feel that you may need to decide sooner that you thought” Achebe tried to answer, but his throat felt as he had been eating salt. The room was already moving, the colours off his lieutenant blending into the background.
Thomas waited until his comrade had stopped twitching before he called the butler back into the office. “Well done Mr. Cameron. I thought that he was never going to drink it”. The MI6 agent flashed his easy smile at the Attorney-General; both men were now most definitely due a promotion.
“Well, he had been a thorn in London’s side for too long” the secret agent replied “With him out of the picture, these idiotic Africans should desist in their silly little notions of independence”.
As the two men left the office, on the other side of the city, a junior clerk in the Ministry of Information was finalising a draft statement announcing the sad demise of the Nigerian Prime Minister, the proposed referendum on independence was of course to be scrapped.
Excerpts from Time: The 100 Most Powerful People in the World
1. Joerg Haider: As Chancellor of the National German Republic, Haider has gained both congratulation and condemnation in his first four months as leader of Germany. Although his political vessel, the “National Front for Germanic Liberation” is undoubtedly neo-fascist in tone and ideology, his political stance lacks the rampant racialism of the Nazi Party, indeed, Germanys Jewish population is once again at levels not seen since the era of the Weimar Republic. The immense size of the “Fourth Reich”, which currently stretches from Strasburg to Konigsberg, has given German access to the largest manufacturing base in Europe, which, as a factor in the European Customs Union has created the largest trading force in the world after that of the North American Confederacy.
12. Governor Randolph Parker: The young wunderkind of the Republican Party is the favourite to win next month’s presidential election, the most hotly contested in years. A keen Libertarian, strongly influenced by his political guru, President L. Neil Smith, Parker has announced that any future administration would have to adopt a more direct and interventionist foreign policy over the piecemeal and unpopular escapade to Central America carried out by the current Government. His reign as Governor of Colorado, in which he has reduced public spending and legalised most recreational drugs, has been praised by all but the most polarising of political commentators. Bright, humorous and charismatic, Governor Parker looks set to remain a dominant figure in American politics for many years to come, regardless of the outcome of November’s election.
29. Cherie Booth KC: The new British Chancellor of the Exchequer, who replaced Roy Hattersley last week after the latter was tragically killed in a car crash, has already marked herself out as perhaps the most dominant and devisive figure in the British Government. In contrast to the measured personality of Hilary Benn, Ms. Booth, a former King’s Counsel, has constantly spoken out against the right of the Labour Party. Her current regime at the Treasury in Whitehall has already seen much greater emphasis on wealth redistribution and increased spending on welfare, considered to be a major backlash against the hard right monetarist policies seen in the Archer and Redwood Premierships. Seen as a potential Prime Minister in waiting, Ms. Booth should not be underestimated by her fellow European finance ministers.
32. Richard Branson: The major-domo of international shipping, Branson has become the driving force behind the deregulation of world trade. As head of the Maria shipping and importing network, Branson currently holds a 9% stake in the world’s container vessels including the Tabula Rasa, the world’s largest ship, built at the National Reykjavik Shipyards owned by Branson’s hero, former Icelandic Finance Minister Ron Paul (No. 83). Currently ranked as the tenth-richest businessman in the world, Branson clearly has the potential to dominate the foundation of the World Trade Organisation, a free market forum due to be set up by March of next year.
58. Narayan Mittal: As one of the most prominent figures in the Indian Government, Mittal has been the senior figure behind the current expansionism of the Hindutva. As Minister for War, Mittal masterminded the atomic bomb program of the late ‘80s before being sacked after the bombing of Mumbai. Narrowly escaping imprisonment, the 60 year old has once again risen to favour after the successful annexation of Burma into the Hindu Empire. Spoken of as a potential future leader, if Mittal can use his political prowess to resolve the territorial disputes between Taiwan and China, the former steel worker may yet find himself as the dominant figure in the Indian political spectrum.
Atlas Shrugged
Denver, Colorado: North American Confederacy
“Ladies and Gentlemen; the President-elect of the North American Confederacy!”
Governor Randolph Steven Parker jogged up to the forefront of the stage with his typical manic energy. Around him, the cheers and wild jubilation of his supporters filled the cool November air with a firmly level of heat and vigour rare to American politics. Red, white and blue balloons filled the air around him, and the penguin mascot of the Republican-Libertarian Party seemed to add a sense of jollity to the proceedings.
“Hey, don’t start without me guys” the new POTUS shouted into the microphone “This is, you must remember, my party just as much as yours!”
The crowd gave an appreciative laugh at the minor level of arrogance, after such a tight race, few in the Party would have denied Randy Parker the right to hog the limelight. Although the polls had predicted a Parker victory, what with the South going to the Federalists and Vermont, Pennsylvania and Ohio narrowly going for Moore, less than four hours ago, most networks had begun to call the election for the Socialist Party. In the end however, with some arm twisting, not to mention a last minute push for votes, first Texas, then California, New York and Chihuahua had fallen into the yellow camp. As their leader worked the crowd into a frenzy, Parker’s campaign team were enjoying watching the various news-anchors and posters squirming in their seats attempting to rectify their previous mistakes.
“Shame that the Tribune didn’t print another “Dewey Defeats Kennedy” eh Rudy?” the campaign leader, Jean-Serge Brisson noted to the Vice-President-elect.
“Well you know the liberal media John” the former New York Senator replied, “They never do learn or accept their mistakes”.
The two men smiled at the victory, the fatigue of the past few days had evaporated in the heat of victory, and at the moment, they were content just to sit in the wings waiting for the inevitable mention from the new Commander-in-Chief.
“Some say that I am a clown, ladies and gentlemen” Parker pontificated by the podium, “That I would rather make people laugh that steer this ship in the right direction. There is a name for people who don’t want make people laugh but want to force their views on people. Hippies. And in my mind, there is no bigger hippy than Senator Moore. The thing about hippies is, no matter how much that they say that they wish to save the planet, in reality all they want to do is sit about and smoke pot.”
Several thousand miles away, the screen froze on the audiences’ laughter.
Ulaanbaatar: Peoples Republic of Mongolia
The American Special Envoy to Mongolia almost slammed the remote down in a fit of understandable pique. After so long, Ted Kennedy had thought that the American public was going to do the right thing.
“B******!” he screamed at the television set. “That’s it, it’s done, it’s the end of the world as we know it”.
“Ever the optimist Ted” his number two replied calmly “You always assume that the American people must do as you would otherwise they are merely setting the scene for the apocalypse” Stuart Leibowitz, the former US Consul to Tel Aviv, had been one of the numerous members on the left of the American diplomatic corps to retreat into near-exile after the “Quiet Revolution” of President Smith’s first year in office.
Even with his colleague fuming behind the desk, Leibowitz could still find enough humour to smile. Without a word, he swivelled on his chair and turned the television back on. This time, the scene had switched to snowy Oregon, where Senator Martin Moore was addressing a crowd of supporters. Flanked by his Running Mate, Governor Ayers of Colombia, and his campaign manager, Bernie Sanders, Moore was sonorously reading out a concession speech that appeared to have been typed out at the last minute. All of his supporters looked bitter, angry and vengeful, understandable, Kennedy though, given the results that they had heard over the past few hours.
“Comrades, this has been a difficult campaign, but one that I have relished every moment of…”
“Ah! The first rule of a good speech Teddy” Stuart interjected to his friend “always start with a joke!”. The look Kennedy gave back could have frozen hell three times over.
“…the immense breakthrough that we have made!” Moore continued “We have the entirety of Western Canada, outside Alberta, firmly supportive of our message of hope and change for the people of this divided nation. Let us not forget that we did not even exist as a party five years ago, now, we have Congress-people, Senators, Governors, all committed to the ideals of state ownership and the welfare state. We have only been halted today, next time, socialism will fight, and socialism will be right!”
“Turn the fecking thing off Stu, I can’t bear to hear anymore” the envoy moaned as the scene switched to an equally wintery Montana, where Richard Jore was reading out a slightly more eloquent dialogue to the Federalist Party members.
“Don’t look so down you smuck!” Leibowitz cried as he turned to the sideboard “What you need, is some piping hot tea” Kennedy groaned again but accepted the steaming cup with both hands. He drank a sip before gagging at the rancid concoction.
“Bergh! What the hell is in this?” he said, sniffing the cup, “You’re not using goddamn dogs milk again”
“Don’t look at me like that; it lasts longer than any other type of milk!”
“Why?”
“No sane person will drink it!”
“Oh how droll” Kennedy stated in a humourless tone of voice. “Still” he said as he wiped his upper lip with his old handkerchief, “if we are stuck here for another four years then we need to try and make some more money for our glorious masters in Washington”
Turning to the map of East Asia that covered the entire left hand side of the room, Kennedy indicated a railway line that just skirted the Khanate on the border with the Republic of Vladivostok. “Relations with the Republic are somewhat strained of late” he stated “Would it not be a dreadful thing if another war was to break out?”
“I suppose it would Ted, you don’t suppose a terrorist attack on the railroad could tip things over the edge do you?” In any war in the Far East, the Mongol Empire needed weapons, and the two diplomats could find and sell the most astonishing array of armour and guns to the Mongolian Government if the Armies of the Gobi Desert needed them.
“Well, we would have to hope not Stu. Still, if hostilities were to break out we would, as purveyors of peacekeeping equipment be forced to take a small commission on any sales of said martial paraphernalia”
The two men left the office of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs with a smile. As they passed the magnificently dressed flunkies guarding the Office of the Minister, Kennedy turned to his young protégé “By the way, if you want to succeed in this place Stu, you could do a lot worse than reading this” he passed a small, batted paperback to his colleague, “The Most Extraordinary Life of Baron Roman Ungern von Sternberg”
Complications of a Dystopian Nature
15 miles east of Ussuriysk: Republic of Vladivostok
“Set the charges, destroy the entire line!”
Edward Kennedy, silhouetted in the indigo twilight of the night, was rapidly calling out a series of orders to the members of the Mongolian Peoples Army who had accompanied the two diplomats across the border earlier that night. Kennedy, Leibowitz and the dozen or so bribed troops were now busily laying the charges across the Vladivostok-Kamchatsky Railroad as a means of staging a “terrorist attack”. The freezing air lay like an oppressive blanket over the scene, as the various troops dug and deposited soil near the icebound lake.
On a spoil heap overlooking the sabotage efforts, Stuart Leibowitz stamped his feet, which were beyond cold even in their yak-hind boots, and thought of fireplaces and hot cocoa. He sniffed and pondered how long it would take before they would be able to pitch their yurts for the night.
The Republic of Vladivostok was perhaps the most stable and democratic of all the former Soviet States in the Far East. Under her first President, Yul Brynner, and nowerdays Boris Gryzlov, she had managed to escape the majority of the fighting of the Second Russian Civil War. Brynner had scuttled the majority of the Far Eastern Fleet in her harbour before the sailors could mutiny, and the various other states in the region had avoided direct confrontation with the Republic. The Japanese advance down the Chinese coast had skirted the borders, and even Mongolia had been afraid of a major conflict with her neighbor. A tough isolationist policy had also spared Vladivostok the worst effects of SPID.
Lights in the distance drew Stuart from his icy delirium, he paused, what on earth was a locomotive doing on the line at this time of night?
Drawing the early warning whistle to his lips, he blew into it, swearing in agony as the frozen metal stuck to the skin. Ragging the whistle from his mouth, Leibowitz let a most extraordinary number of non-Jewish curses escape his mouth. By the time he had recovered his composure, the persistent train had already halved the distance between it and the would-be-saboteurs. Thinking quickly, the young diplomat threw himself to the ground, thankful that his black overcoat would not make him noticeable amongst the pitch-blackness of the ground.
The warning had come too late for the Mongolian troops by the side of the railway. As Edward Kennedy snuck away towards the armored truck hidden in the woodland by the side of the lake, the first shots rang out, felling two troops carrying the explosives. Turning to his side, Kennedy made out a number of marksmen on the front of the engine car, the last surviving brother of Joseph P. Kennedy had only enough time to appreciate the quality of the guards marksmanship before the young colonel who had accompanied the team put a bullet through the back of his skull.
The train drew to a halt and discharged a handful of soldiers from the guards van. This close up, Stuart was able to see that it was former rolling-stock of the Trans-Siberian Express. He let out an appreciative gasp; he had not known that any had survived the Civil War. On a more pragmatic level, knowing that he no longer had a hope in hell of surviving on his own in the wilderness, maybe by sneaking aboard the train he would be able to make it as far as the Directorate of Kamchatka. Timing would be everything as he eyed up the distance between him and the carriage.
“Three…two…one…go!” His first though was that he had completely misjudged the distance, that he would surely be seen by the troops on the ground. Yet by some miracle he was able to reach the train, jump onto the carriage and crawl into an open window without being seen. Like a cat, he fell into the interior without a sound.
The train-car still bore the hall marks of Tsarist luxury; even Lazar Kaganovich had appreciated the aesthetics of the Trans-Siberian, but it was a shabby, threadbare, grandeur that, even in the half-light, bore clear signs of neglect. The compulsory portraits of Lenin, Stalin and Mikhail Suslov showed that the train had been decommissioned long before the Sino-Soviet War, so what on earth was it doing running in this corner of the former USSR?
Hushed voices in the corridor prompted Stuart to panic, looking for a place to hide he ducked under a dustsheet that was covering a silk divan and held his breath. He heard the door slide open and close as two figures entered the compartment and turn the lights on. They were, bizarrely, speaking English which did of course make it easier to understand what the two men were talking about. Although most of what they were saying was so crazy that most of it made little sense anyway.
“…partisan attack, nothing to worry about.” The first man was in the midst of conversation “As I was saying, I am immensely grateful to you Doctor Hwang. I can see that the decision to grant you amnesty during the Korean Crisis was not ill founded”
“The pleasure is all mine Comrade Ivankov. It is so gratifying to have employers who truly appreciate my genius.” The second person, “Doctor Hwang” was speaking with a Korean accent, not that there were many of those around these days, Stuart thought to himself.
Risking a peep out of the dustsheet, Leibowitz was able to make out the two men standing in the middle of the carriage standing next to a Socialist Realist painting of a collective farm. The first man, Ivankov, spoke with a Russian accent, but had vaguely oriental features and the long, sinewy body of a wrestler. The other, Hwang, was wearing a lab coat and carrying what appeared to be a large metal lunchbox. Ivankov removed his army greatcoat and began to pour plum brandy as he continued to speak.
“As you can imagine, the new strains that you have developed must be able to survive the transit process. We will only have one shot at this scheme and the General-Secretary is, I can assure you, not a man who tolerates mistakes.”
“The anthrax and Ebola cultures are able to blend together quite easily under the correct conditions and can survive temperatures of up to -80 degrees Celsius” Hwang counted in response “The data about the SPID Research Program in the ‘60s was of obvious use, as was the information about the Sheridan ‘Flu Agent Ames was able to procure for the Intelligence Services.”
“You will have no more than six weeks to complete the breeding process. The Anglo-American Summit is the only time that Benn and Parker will be together, the ECU Heads of Government meeting is a rare occurrence and with the current situation in Cracow, the Muscovites and Germans will not be seeing much of each other after the Conference in Königsberg.” Ivankov paused in the middle of his refrain to gulp down his spirit. Stuart had to hand it to the Russians, what other race could willingly drink paint stripper with such relish?
“We will be arriving in Kamchatka in around six hours. Make sure that your report is finalised for when we get there!” Vyacheslav Ivankov spun on his heels before leaving the compartment. Leibowitz and the Doctor were now on their own as Hwang Woo-Suk sat down at the desk, which was piled high with a mountain of papers and science textbooks.
“Well, now what?” Stuart thought to himself as the train pushed onwards through the bitter Siberian night
Not Without Right!
Langley: Virginia
To the President-elect of the North American Confederacy: The Hon. Randolph Parker
Mr President-elect;
Under the Prevention of Terrorism (Intelligence) Act of 1995, as Director of the CIA I am compelled by the provisions of the aforementioned act to provide you with the latest intelligence of all terrorist groups known to be operational within the NAC. For your own convenience; I have divided each section into the current status each group has on the Feingold Terror Alertness Level* known leader(s), current aims and objectives, major terrorist acts committed within the past six months as well as any other relevant notations regarding their activities.
National Monarchist League of Canada:
Alertness Level: Gamma
Known Leadership: Avril P. D. Campbell, Gordon MacKay
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Alertness Level: Theta (money laundering only)
Known Leadership: Elfyn Llwyd, Gareth David-Lloyd
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Zapatista Army of National Liberation:
Alertness Level: Alpha
Known Leadership: María Gloria Elorriaga (Subcomadante Elisa)
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Alertness Level: Beta
Known Leadership: Heath Palin
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Second White Rose Movement:
Alertness Level: Theta (money laundering only)
Known Leadership: Unknown
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Brotherhood of Christ:
Alertness Level: Beta
Known Leadership: Ernest Duke
Primary Aims and Objectives:
Alertness Level: Alpha
Known Leadership: No Overall Leader, known sectional commanders include Jesse Jackson (South African Sector) Kenneth Kardashian (Armenian Sector) Yusuf Islam (CTCR Sector)
Primary Aims and Objectives:
I do hope that this information is of use to you Mr. President-elect. The team I have here in Langley is a fine one, and you have no need to worry for the safely of the country whilst I am in charge. I believe that President Smith speaks highly off me and if you were to see your way to allowing me to remain as Director of the Central Intelligence Agency you would not find yourself wanting.
Yours with all due respect;
William L. Pierce
William L. Pierce
Director
William Luther Pierce signed his letter with an angry scrawl and sent it rushing down the pneumatic tube network to be processed. His Assistant, the former Deputy Secretary of State Richard Bruce Cheney, hurriedly passed a memo into his hand.
“It’s from Special Envoy Leibowitz Mr. Director” Cheney explained “It seems to have originated from somewhere in the Russian Far East"
“That dang yid!” the ever diplomatic intelligence chief retorted “what the hell does he want now?”
“I don’t know Sir” the Assistant-Director replied “but from the sounds of it, it appears that it was sent from a telex machine from General Secretary Suslov’s old Command Train”
A haunted look momentarily flashed over Pierce’s face. Cheney was about to register his concern when the Director yelled his response.
“Get outta here Dick; ain’t you got lawyers to shoot or something?”
In some confusion, but unwilling to anger his boss, Cheney gathered his files and quickly left the room.
Piece quickly read the memo before tossing it into the shredder. As the light green paper was reduced to shreds, he began to chuckle at what would soon be unleashed upon the world. Heading over to his own, personalised, typewriter, William L. Pierce began to type.
Dear General-Secretary;
Following conversations with my underlings, I have good news to report regarding Operation Lazarus…
The Mancunian Candidate
Athens: Kingdom of Greece
Sir Richard Barnbrook, the former British Minister of Culture, walked down the smoggy streets of the Greek capital towards the vast docklands of Piraeus. With Constantinople still being rebuilt from the nuclear strike sustained during the last stages of the Civil War, the Greek capital had emerged to become the most important port in the Eastern Mediterranean. Greece had been the second country, after Italy, to throw off the yoke of her proletarian oppressors. Now, the bourgeoisie, along with the former Royal Family, had quickly returned to the land of the philosophers during the final stages of the Saffron Revolution.
King Constantine II of the Hellenes Restored, to give the King his official title had marked himself out as a fine monarch. Only 3½ thousand political prisoners had been executed since his return, which, to say that they had been vile communist stooges, was only right and proper. He sighed to himself as his passed the reeking stench of the fish markets. If only King Edward IX could have done the same to the pinkos and lefties that so dominated his homeland. Where was the British Haider? He thought sadly to himself as he sidestepped a trawler dumping its load of sturgeons onto the waterfront.
Shielding himself against the oppressive heat of the day, Barnbrook cast his eyes out to the vast pleasure cruiser that was bobbing in the azure waters of the Adriatic.
Placing his briefcase on the quayside, Barnbrook watched as the Pride of Manchester, the private yacht owned by the great industrialist Sir Nigel Short, discharged a motor launch from the stern of the elegant, Edwardian style vessel. A former Chess Grandmaster, Short had returned from a visit to America several years before with a new found head for business. This had developed to the stage where his sizable intellect and fiscal acumen had granted him a sizable fortune in the unregulated market reforms of Jeffery Archers first Government.
The Zuzwang, as the launch was dubbed, pulled up alongside the quay were the white clad steward mentioned the awaiting politician to climb aboard. Without waiting for a further response, Barnbrook stepped smartly onto the motor boat. Carving a perfect arc of white water across the harbour, the vessel returned back towards her mother ship, sending a handful of fishing boats scurrying for cover.
Barnbrook was greeted by the same man who, just two nights ago, had been meeting Dr. Hwang Woo-Suk on the Trans-Siberian Express. Dressed in a light summer suit, which did little to hide his strong physique, Vyacheslav Ivankov shook the hand of the man who was to rule Britain in the very near future.
Barnbrook winced as he felt his fingers crank under the strain of the vice-like grip but managed to hold his face still. Ivankov had a curious stance of controlled animalism; he gave the impression that he was, just barely, suppressing the urge to kill the person in front of him. Barnbrook was glad when the Ivanakov turned his back to the former Minister and led him through the plush upper quarters before heading down into the bowls of the bilge deck.
A steel door was unlocked by a faceless henchman that led into a dingy cabin holding a member of the British Secret Service. Barnbrook gave a brief glance at the emaciated figure of Donald Cameron, former MI6 Agent.
“You captured him as he entered the airport?” he asked turning towards Ivanakov and the psychologist heading the “thought reassignment” of the Oxbridge alumnus.
“Nyet!” Ivanakov replied harshly “We grabbed him as soon as he left the Powell House”. Cameron's capture had been the easy part. Smuggling him aboard the Pride of Manchester, eliminating the former owner (who had been unceremoniously dumped overboard near Dakar) and sailing through the Straights of Gibraltar without being searched had been far harder. Now, in the recesses of the great ship, Cameron was being “reprogrammed” as the greatest step in Andrei Chikatilo’s master-plan.
“Prey, do explain how this is all going to work again Vyachilli”
Growing with hatred at the demeaning pet name he was forced to tolerate, Ivanakov responded, gesticulating wildly at the map of the world pinned to the corner of the room.
“Well, as you already know Richard” Ivanakov stated with more calmness that he wanted “The most important power blocks in the world are the Anglosphere” he indicated the NAC and British Federation “as well as their allies, to writ, Canada, Nigeria, Australasia etc. Then, we have the German Fourth Reich and the various members of the European Customs Union”. He pointed out the grey mass of the NGR. “Finally, there is the growing power of India and, to a lesser extent, Muscovy”. He stood up from the map table and wandered over to a large board to which dozens of politicians had their photos pinned to.
“What the great Chikatilo has realised is how uneasy the peace that the current alliance system depends upon is.” He paused to collect himself. “Remember, the right shot in the right place can change the cause of history”
“Ah, just like the old poem” Barnbrook interjected. “For want of nail the Kingdom fell!”
“Indeed” Ivanakov responded “just imagine what history may have been like if Henry Wallace had never become President. Or if Stalin had died instead of Roosevelt”. Even ruthless, sadistic, master-criminals such as Ivanakov had wholly enjoyed “For All Eternity”, the utopian novel written by that West Coast academic during the summer.
“Anyway” he concluded “you need not concern yourself with the minutiae of the plan but there is no danger in giving you a brief overview. In December, three events will happen simultaneously throughout the world.” He indicated the two pictures, one of a young, smiling US Senator and the other of a well dressed, gaunt MP. “Firstly, the new American President-elect is hosting your Prime Minister, Hilary Benn, at the White House to discuss the establishment of a new Transatlantic Free Trade Zone”
“Secondly” this time indicating a ragtag group of humourless Europeans “The Heads of State of the European Customs Union are having their annual convention in Frankfurt. According my mole within the ECU, plans for a possible political union, dominated by Germany, are to be discussed”
“Finally” he motioned back towards the German border with the Eastern micro-states “If our agent in Berlin is able to set the date, Reichskanzler Haider is to declare war on the former Communist States in order to bring the east to heel”
“Our friend in Kamchatka” he said using Chikatilo’s code name “Feels that by disrupting the above events. He will be able to bring himself and his allies to a position of world domination”. He paused to allow Barnbrook’s overworked mind to catch up “How we bring about the latter two problems is not your concern, but the first will involve a member of the British Secret Service killing the President-elect, Prime Minister Benn being shot in return, and the North American Confederacy declaring war on the British Federation as a result”. Ivanakov smirked at Barnbrook’s expression of horror. “This will of course create a slight degree of military and political disruption in the Western Hemisphere”.
“It’ll be like the rapture!” Dr. James Randi called from the other end of the cabin. “Thank god I got that Scholarship in Psychology so that I could work for you guys!”
“I…I…don’t understand though Vyachilli” Barnbrook spluttered in shock “Where are you going to get someone to kill the President?”
Ivanakov nodded his head towards the slumbering body of Donald Cameron who had fallen to the cause after sixteen hours of psychological torture.
“When our little friend is shown the Grim Reaper from a pack of tarot cards” he said as he grabbed one from the table, “he will be forced to do what Dr. Randi has programmed him to!”
“Now; my dear Sir Richard, this is what I would like you to do…”
The End of History
Washington DC: North American Confederacy
It was a cold, crisp winter’s day as the sun cast its light over the Washington Memorial, illuminating the city with sunshine that matched the hopeful atmosphere that the free peoples of the world were expecting. The world’s press corps had arrived en mass to witness the first Anglo-American Summit which was being looked upon as a way of finally, finally, uniting the shattered globe under the banner of democracy. The lawn behind the White House was peppered with representatives from ANN, the BBC, and Rupert Murdoch’s media empire known as Pacific Ocean Broadcasting. The various journalists and news anchors had braved the cold for hours to be sure of getting the closest seats to the podium. The dais held two lecterns, one of which carried the Presidential Seal, which had “Elect” hurriedly scratched in front of the main ribbon of text. The other carried the Lion, Thistle, Harp and Daffodil motif of the British Federation. The stars-and-stripes and Union Flag waved limply in the slight breeze. The wind caused the associated media members to shiver, but no one dared to comment on the cold. The icy stare of CIA Director William Piece was far colder than the weather anyway.
Inside the Presidential Abode however, the climate was somewhat more heated as the two most powerful men inside clashed over matters of intellectual brilliance…
“This Benn guy then” President-elect Randolph Parker questioned his patron as the duo left the Oval Office “Where is he? Politically I mean?”
“Try and be more formal Randy” L. Neil Smith answered witheringly, “At least call him Prime Minister Benn if nothing else! Remember, he is perhaps the most powerful man in Europe after Haider”. Smith still harboured a grudge at the way in which his young charge had stolen his thunder and job at the RNC in the summer, still, that was something that hopefully would be solved in the next hour or so.
“For your information Randy, Benn is the Labour Prime Minister who it attempting to…”
“Labour! As in Communism? What the hell is Barr playing at!”
“For your information Parker, They share our values regarding civil liberties if nothing else. Besides, he can hardly be worse that Haider or Kulik can he. Now, we need to go!”
“Goddamnit!” The president-elect signed as he followed his former idol to the main lobby. Parker had to jog to catch up with the lame duck; he barely noticed the dinner suit be-clad British agent talking to CIA Director Pierce. Parker sniffed, if this Hilary dude wanted to be taken seriously then he could have chosen bodyguards who didn’t look like characters from a P.G. Wodehouse novel!
Twenty minutes later, Parker was standing beside Prime Minister Benn just prior to signing the Anglo-American Trade and Defence Agreement. The President-elect rolled his eyes as he waited for the limey to shut up at long last…
“Finally, I must pay tribute” Hilary Benn concluded “To the sterling work undertaken by President-elect Parker”, beside him, the former Colorado Senator smiled weakly. “For a man so young, he has given this great nation a voice and a sense of pride not seen since President Kennedy’s First Term”
As Sir Richard Barnbrook let the playing card drop in front of Donald Cameron he couldn’t help but think “Yeah, and we all know what happened to JPK, don’t we”.
Barnbrook was laughing so much that he failed to prevent Hilary Benn, whose peripheral vision was not a factor in Chikatilo’s calculations, from diving in front of the President-elect and casting himself into the history books.
Andrei Chikatilo’s Bunker: Directorate of Kamchatka
“All shall be well comrades!” Andrei Chikatilo pontificated to his allies on the command deck of the missile silo that was now serving as his command centre.
“With these three strokes, the motherland shall welcome us back with open arms!” he continued, unaware of the sniper scope that Stuart Leibowitz now had trained upon him, “And with our return, we shall recreate this vile sphere in our own image!”
Leibowitz had never handled a rifle before, and his hands were shaking so much as to render his aim of no consequence to anyone in the room. He had managed to sneak into an air-vent after the train had pulled into a concrete bunker somewhere a few miles from the coast. He was still not aware of the full scale of the plans, but he knew enough to know that Frankfurt was already crawling with enough anthrax spores to wipe out half of Germany. He closed his eyes in desperation; it wasn’t as if he could have stopped them…
“This is hopeless!” he cried to himself, too loudly as the various sociopaths below him looked up towards the annex in which he had concealed himself…
“Oy vay!”
“Well” he grimly thought as three dozen assault rifles were aimed at him, “That’s why I stood next to the old auto-destruct switch”
As the guns discharged along with a number of red sirens, Stuart Leibowitz smiled to himself at the thought that such controls had been dubbed Deus Ex’s by the geeks at Langley.
“They sure live up to their names!” he grinned as the earth blew up around him, taking himself into the welcoming plain of oblivion.
Epilogue: “Any Dream Will Do”
Queen Elizabeth II Arena: Federation of the British Isles
The crowds hurried to the newly reopened Wembley Arena before the Royal New Year's Eve Gala Performance started. Here and there, people caught glimpses of the various celebrities and noteworthies mingling in the foyer, but most were more focused on getting prime seating before the first act appeared on stage.
In the Royal Box, the new British Prime Minister sat, flanked by her flunkies and family. She smiled to herself grimly, “Poor old Hilary would have loved this” she thought sadly. Benn’s State Funeral was to occur early in the New Year, and he had already be granted numerous honours alongside the diplomat fellow who had blown up Chikatilo and his cartel in Kamchatka. President-elect Parker had sent a nice enough wreath and at least the Anglo-American Treaty was still going to be signed. "Finally!" she could say that the world was going to be able to pick up the pieces left by the last fifty years.
The Right Hon. Cherie Booth KC looked around the VIP Section with a genuine grin; most of the media exiles from Redwood’s time had returned and we sitting next to the various European Heads of State. Whilst she was hardly pleased to have heard of the various deaths at Berlin earlier that month, there was little doubt in her mind that people like Fischer and Kiriyenko would be a damn sight better than Haider and Kulik. Of the latter two, the former had been died horribly in Frankfurt from anthrax spores and the other had been quickly deposed by a cadre of Generals after they found evidence linking him to Chikatilo.
Thoughts of dominating Europe quickly subsided when the arena lights dimmed and Joe Springsteen took to the stage as drum beats and guitar rifts began;
Just because I wanted to add my own input to the timeline that first tempted me to this website, I wish to present to you all my opinions for the end of this dystopia. I’m not trying to take the credit for another person’s idea, please just view it as a simple thought exercise. I’ve done my best to make sure that total maniacs are in key positions and that the world is just as fanatical as in the real timeline. Discussion thread is here;
London: Federation of the British Isles
The new Permanent Under-secretary at the Minister for Reconstruction, Anthony Blair swore to himself as his car sputtered to a halt in the middle of Whitechapel, his old Leyland once again giving up the ghost. Stepping into the grim July air, the windswept alleys around the austere Apartment blocks, he was, after letting the engine steam off, able to finally make his way to his new office job, the Department responsible for cleaning up the mess of the secessionist movements of the ‘70s.
London could hardly be said to be a pleasant city, the Welsh Liberation Army bombings had destroyed the few buildings the blitz had spared and Prime Ministers Enoch Powell and Michael Foot had hardly been the sort of people to support public expenditure on mere architecture! Blair managed, after a struggle of sorts, to get his car to the severe concrete bunker that served as his “office”. He managed to avoid his minister to his great fortune; Francis Maude had a filthy temper.
After skimming over his business for the day, mainly reports for the new rebuilding programs in Dublin, the old Irish capital had been nucked in the last stages of the troubles, but then, Tony mused, what did the Finnians expect if they supported the Catholic death squads?
After signing the last documents formally ending the tentative plans for the Channel Tunnel (which had been a dead-duck from day one; the French couldn’t afford it and who wanted to give SPID sufferers an easy route into the country?) Blair gave a cursory glance to the maps on the wall, the Isles were once again united, although he noticed that most of Yorkshire was still under occupation, the legacy of that extremist Scargil from when he had tried to take the region out of the old Kingdom of England in the ’90s. Blair was proud to say that Britain was still relatively peaceful and prosperous in spite of everything that the last 50 years had thrown at it, well… at least in comparison to the rest of Europe.
He only had time to notice the investiture of the new Archbishop of Canterbury on his flickering television, some liberal nutcase called David Icke being consecrated by King Edward IX, before he was summoned before the Prime Minister; Redwood had succeeded Archer after the former had been found guilty of embezzlement the previous winter, the Mandarin had not been too bothered, it wasn't as if anyone in the Federation needed that plutonium! Blair signed; at least another day was nearly over.
Beijing: China
……………….?
Berlin: National German Republic
The new Reichschancellor of the NGR, Jorg Haider, stepped onto the platform of the new German capital to address the mass rally of supporters of the National Front of Germanic Liberation. He smiled at the wave of Celtic Crosses that had become the emblem of his new political union that had swept to victory in the “election” last month.
“Germans” he boomed out amongst the Alexanderplatz, his easy smile and tanned skin projected on the dozens of communication screens that covered the square “I salute you!” he paused as the thousands of cheering voices erupted in front of him, many with tears streaming down their devoted faces. “After sixty years of division and dishonour, the Germanic peoples are free and united in the city once home to the greatest men in history!” he was again forced to stop under the patriotic fever of his supporters. “No longer will the chosen race be forced to play second fiddle to the corrupted powers of the West! We are all now very much united under one glorious banner”
That much was true at least; the fall of the old GDR had been rapid as soon as the reds had wiped themselves out in a wave of cleansing flame and syphilitic diseases, but he had still had to kill the remaining pinkos, Schröder had gone to the work camps only a few weeks ago along with the rest of the SPD’s leadership. “The Fourth Reich now spreads from Strasburg in the West to Königsberg in the East, happy, wealthy and enlightened! Yet, this is only the beginning! We shall not rest until the Kleptocracies of the heathen Slavs are finally under the thumbs of the chosen peoples!” If the noise in the plaza grew any more, Haider thought to himself, the filthy Semites would keel over and die without a fight!
If only his idol had not been stabbed in the back in ’45 he thought sadly, still, the microstates in the East would be walkovers if all went well. The disestablishment of the Swiss Cantons had been easy as soon as the banks collapsed in the eighties and Austria had been quick to fall under the rule of the FPÖ after Vasiliy Kulik had come to power in what remained of Russia. Despite Haider's rhetoric, he felt that the National Bolsheviks would prove to be supportive of his actions he and his counterpart in Kirov, Eduard Limonov, had decided upon for exterminating what remained of the Tatars and other parasitic groups.
“And so we shall march alongside freedom and glory on the road to Glorious National Salvation!” he climaxed to the wild cheering of his subjects.
They would have died for him and the Fatherland and, he smirked, many probably would!
10 miles outside Arkhangelsk: Free Republic of the Kola
Dimitri Medvedev, erstwhile Governor of Murmansk, surveyed his fiefdom, well, if that is what you could call a small handful of farms and peasant villages. He had been furious when, in the first fully open elections that the Kolarites had been given, they had kicked him out in favour of those damn populists! Medvedev signed, it wasn’t as him he didn’t like Vladimir Zhirinovsky, but he still hoped that the Finns had remained in the region for at least another few months, but as with the will of the world, the Perussuomalaiset had pulled the army out to deal with the Lapp uprising in ’92. Finland had perhaps suffered the least out of the splintering of the Nordic Pact; they had only had Oulu nucked in the last stages of the war with the Swedes and relations between the Scandinavian states were now fairly congeal, only around 10 000 had died in the ethnic riots so far.
He was, Medvedev considered, fairly lucky to be around, he had been one of the few students to have got out of Leningrad alive and even more lucky to have survived the cleansing camps in Siberia and had a result, been one of the handful of people deemed “pure” enough to have been called up for the Motherland in the last stages of the Second Civil War. He had been been granted clemency by the first Russian President before he had escaped to the North during the Finnish expansionist period in '89. Kulik was not the sociopath Chikatilo had been…well, not quite so much…and at least he had had the decency to keep the rape-murders to a minimum but Dimitri had his limits, which included working for even the most pleasent of mass murderers.
He noticed one of his serfs…sorry, employees, was stumbling about in a daze, SPID was not so bad around the White Sea but still, he thought as he took the Grach pistol slowly out of his pocket, best not to take any chances eh?
Naples: Kingdom of Italy-Two Sicily’s (South Italy)
Silvio Berlusconi, senior partner of Berlusconi e Giuffrè, one of the largest and certainly the most respectable solicitors firm in Naples, ambled down the Piazza Municipo without a care in the world, the sun beating down upon his battered, wrinkled skin. He had had a difficult afternoon after deciding to take up the private case the Sicilian Business Community had submitted against the local Government over alleged “misappropriation of funds”. Antonino had been adamant for him not to take it, Silvio had wondered why, the Casa Nostra were not a threat anymore, were they? What did it matter if they were anyway? The Sicilians were paying him half-a-trillion lira for the case, which was a fortune now that inflation was back under 100%. “Finally”, he thought to himself, things were looking up!
It had been difficult, he mused, to have picked himself up from the gutter after his assets in Milan had been liquidated by La Russa’s regime. The Azione Sociale had been quick to move into Milan as the old Communist government collapsed, and, while Silvio was by his very nature a Conservative, he had no support at all for the massive state control the Fascists demanded of a…ahem…honest businessman. Still, the top graduate of Rome University Law Department was made of sterner stuff than his enemies gave him credit for!
He espied the newest posters of the King and Prime Minister that had been erected at either end of the boulevard, Vittorio Emanuele IV had made a rapid return to his homeland following his Corsican exile and the battered southerners, who had never embraced Communism with the same semi-religious fervor as the north, had been happy to take back the monarchy after a grim succession of increasingly corrupt oligarchs. In addition, Bernardo Provenzano was proving to be a fine, if somewhat doddery, Prime Minister, “The greatest Statesman is one who does the bare minimum” Berlusconi thought to himself as he purchased his favorite Flemish Chocolate Gelato from the roadside seller. He wandered down the muggy streets of the South Italian capital, the car stereos blaring out either some of the newly decriminalized Opera or some dreadful Indian music from the British Federation.
As he ate, he found himself feeling somewhat lightheaded, perhaps he was letting himself go somewhat. He would have to start going to the gym again…
“Yes” he contemplated, as he made his along to the seaside promenade, all things considered, it had been best to get out of the North. Naples could hardly be described as one of the world’s great cities; the Communists had viewed the once beautiful Baroque architecture as “Extremist Bourgeoisie decadence” and had demolished most of it, of most of the great architectural gems of Naples, only the Royal Palace had survived, but it was his adopted hometown and the first place he had felt safe in for quite some time.
Berlusconi paused, wheezing, he was not that unfit surely? And why did he have that strange metallic taste in his mouth? He looked at the gelato in silent horror; he thought that damn seller had looked shifty!
As the best lawyer in Naples pitched forwards, his last thoughts were taken up with how stupid he had been to try and work against the mafia!
HMS Ophelia: 140 miles east of Ittoqqortoormiit
The newest aircraft carrier of the Royal Navy cruised off the coast of the Republic of Greenland, the flight deck steaming with moisture as the nuclear reactor worked overtime to ensure that it remained dry and free of frost.
Second Lieutenant Wendy Fiennes grimaced as the freezing polar air hit her in the face, this far from the arctic circle, one needed as many layers as regulations would allow. The Royal Navy was once again the world’s second largest, ever since the Soviet nuclear subs had been scuttled at Odessa, Vladivostok and Murmansk, one of the last stages of that brutal, vicious Civil War that had ripped the Communist state asunder.
Lunch was a depressing affair, little more than a greyish slop masquerading as chicken and mashed potatoes, but she ate it anyway, there were a great deal of starving people in the Third World, or rather, the World. Still, at least she had time to read her smuggled copy of Bristol Fasion Review.
She left the mess hall in a huff, that gross steward Prescott had been trying to grab her arse again, she would have to report him if it went on for much longer. She stood on the portside gantry to look at the American Naval Flotilla about ten miles aft. A brace of nuclear armed battleships, the USS Robert Dole, named after the old Vice President sailed alongside the USS Slade Gorton (named after a President that, while not bad by American standards had still given to order to nuck Nome when Alaska tried to declare independence in 1994), supporting the Carrier USS Libertarianism, an apt name, she considered, to say how Smith was running the United States.
Wendy walked back towards the flight deck to discuss politics with the only bloke on the ship who gave a toss about current affairs. Jack Straw was, it had to be said, slightly bookish, but the civilian attaché was still reasonable company. The two spoke for a few minutes regarding Prime Minister Redwoods new trade agreement with Nigeria, Britain had been relying on the West African state’s oil to keep afloat for the past two decades and it was good to know that the economy was still going to stay at a level to keep it better than most of the other European countries. After the chat, she made her way back to Admiral Frederick West to see about her long awaited promotion.
Indeed, it was a shame that she failed to heed the warning lights on deck and that she didn’t recognized the whine of the Typhoon jet fighter that spread her, and six other junior officers, along the flight deck in a way akin to spreading jam on a giant steel slice of toast!
Boston, Massachusetts: North American Confederacy
John Chirac, the Governor of one of the most stable of the American States looked out of his elegantly appointed office in the East Wing of the Capitol building. Chirac, who had come to the former United States with little more than a bright head and a pocket filled with the manuscript for his political thesis, had rapidly moved up the American social ladder. He had first become the Professor of Political Sciences at Yale, the last incumbent it had turned out; the University had been forcibly closed for hosting a protest against Alexander Haig. Then it had been onwards to become the Republican nominee for Governor which he won in the landslide of ’96.
Chirac had been a relatively popular Governor, the shooting of the Québécois nationalists notwithstanding, but he had still had to do that little bit of vote…rearrangement to get his third term the other year. He was considering running against Smith in the Primaries in January; the damn Libertarians did not have a clue about how to run the economy or law and order, and it had only been El Neil’s immense personal charisma that had given him the support needed to redraft the Constitution on the grounds of “betraying the Revolution”.
John still had to hand it to Smith on the foreign policy stiff though; the NAC now ruled North America from Alaska to Acapulco, ever since West Canada had joined the Union in the plebiscites last year. Yet with the “Liberty Corps”, as the independent militia groups were called were known, still engaged in their long war of attrition against Grand Columbia and the Chavez régime there, the American administration still had a long way to go before Smith would be able to let the Government atrophy.
Chirac glanced at the television which stood like a obese toad in the corner of the wood paneled office, the ANN newscaster was still partway through the latest news headlines, “The President of Quebec, Jacques Rose, defended the actions of the Quebecois navy in the incident yesterday afternoon in which a Greenland freighter was sunk by bombers from the carrier QN Raymond Villeneuve. Relations between Quebec and the Republic of Greenland have become even more strained as of late and many commentators believe war in the North Atlantic may now be inevitable.”
The Governor turned the TV off with a sigh, his knew he ort to have some sympathy for people of his French heritage, but try as he might he just could not manage it, his homeland was still under the thumb of the neo-Fascists. General Maxime Brunerie, who had seized power in the coup last year, the fifth that France had seen in the last decade, was already engaged in a war against the Mahgreb Federation as the first stage in “uniting the pagan, proto-Bolshevik Africans under the reign of the Elect”. Since the war had broken out, Tunis and Marseilles had both been reduced to radioactive ash and around 150 000 troops were dead on either side.
John looked at the documents before him before tossing them into the wastepaper bin with a snort of derision; did the Attorney General really think that he didn’t know about the missing heath insurance?
New Shanghai: South-East Asian Economic and Defence Co-operative Zone
Zack Lynn, American Ambassador to the Empire of Japan stood awkwardly at the edge of the ball hosted by the Japanese military governor of the region, General Yuji Fujinawa. Lynn, who had been forced to vacate his cushy position as the Democratic Governor of Louisiana after disagreeing with President Smith now had to content himself with trying to keep himself occupied in the new régime that Emperor Hitachi had set up ever since the (relatively) bloodless coup he had led against his brother six years ago.
Japans dominant political party, Rikken Yōseikai, which had been reformed in the aftermath of the Japanese reunification wars, was beginning to reestablish the control it had once held over Indochina back in the ‘30s although due to the state of the crater maze that had once been China, Dai-Nippon had so-far only been able to penetrate 10 miles from the coast. But luckily, if all went well, by 2050, Japan would have regained territory as far as the Indian border at Qinghai.
Japan had perhaps benefited the most from the Sino-Soviet and Communist Civil Wars; she had first occupied Kamchatka and Manchuko before moving down the coastline as far as Norodom Sihanouk’s Greater Khmer Empire, a vast nation which had managed to conquer both Laos and the Democratic Federated Republic of Borneo-Sumatra after the old IFPDR had collapsed. In short, she was now the most powerful nation in the east after Charles Yu's empire in Australasia.
Indeed, Lynn thought as he snatched some of that weird raw fish from the passing Pilipino butler, unless you counted Korea (not many people did, surprisingly) East Asia was actually doing quite well considering how much had been thrown at it over the past few years. Of course, one did hear rumours concerning the medical camps on some of the Korean islands, but, the Ambassador thought, who cared what the Japanese did to dissidents just so long as those alluring Geishas remained around to proved some “light relief” for a hard working diplomat?
Jerusalem: Grand Hebrew Republic (Israel)
The Chairperson of the Kadima-Labour Party, Ehud Olmert, walked down the streets of Jerusalem flanked by a number of very tall, very well-trained and very Mossady bodyguards. The Leader of the Opposition was a very paranoid man, even more so since the assassination of General Sharon the other week.
Olmert was that very rarest of things, a liberal Jew. Although of course, “Liberal” had a very different meaning in a State that had undertaken an almost state-sponsored genocide of the Islamists in Arabia and the other areas of the former Jerusalem League. The Motherland Act of the last year had effectively made the worship of Islam illegal and the execution of Abdullah bin al-Hussein, the sole remaining head of the old Middle Eastern Royal Families, had decapitated the formal leadership of the Muslim world.
However, Olmert wondered sadly as his troop marched down towards the remains of the Western Wall, bombed by the PLA back in 2001, the Fundamentalists remained a threat for the entire Republic. The various so-called “Mujahideen” groups had been behind a spate of terrorist atrocities over the past decade. These had included; placing a suitcase nuke in Tel Aviv, spreading anthrax and smallpox dirty bombs in the armed forces and managing to storm the Knesset building in order to gun down half of the cabinet. The damn infidels had even tried to blow up the Dome of the Rock last March, fortunately however, Mossad had been able to stop the attack and the ringleaders of the operation which had included the overall leader, a spoilt young Saudi billionaire. All ten of them had been executed a few weeks ago, televised so as to show the heathens the power of Medīnat Yisrā'el. That had of course only been the beginning; Saudi Arabia had been dissolved after a brief invasion in December and the new Emirates of Nejd and Hejaz were being “de-Islamified” as fast as possible in order to “Ensure peace and stability for the Jewish people”. Olmert gave a cynical laugh; the only thing President Ze’evi wanted from Arabia was more oil revenue to fund the armed forces expansion.
Olmert arrived at his destination, the French Embassy, to meet with the Ambassador about the plans for importing more of the experimental jet fighters; he had been appointed Defence Secretary as part of the Coalition Government and he needed to import the technology, the Air Force still hadn’t mastered jet propulsion.
He entered the airy atrium of the diplomatic building, grateful at least for the effectiveness of the Gallic air conditioning. He paused as he approached the reception desk; the staff were busily rearranging portraits and statues for the benefit of the new administration in Paris. Olmert gave another laugh of contempt, one could set a watch by the regularity of the French Coup’d’etats!
Olmert left the Embassy three hours later with a spring in his step; the French had decided to give the Israelis the technology in return for Iraqi oil. General-President Brunerie must be desperate, Ehud thought, the French must have been better even under the Third Empire, at least they had plenty of food back then. The Defense Secretary paused, perhaps that could be the solution to the shortages in the Palestinian ghettos!
Reykjavik: Republic of Iceland
“I herby call to order this meeting of the Texan-Icelandic Association” Ron Paul, the Chair of the most important business group in the North Atlantic stated in is characteristic tone of voice. “I should like to point out that the pickled herring is superb!” he added to enthusiastic cheering from his fellow members. Paul looked around at some of the most prominent men within the TIA; Perot, who headed the Icelandic Geothermal Energy Consortium, George H. Bush, Chairman of Kopavogur United Fisheries and of course, Warren Buffett, CEO of Valley Falls, which owned more collective wealth than Iceland and Spain-in-Exile combined.
The former leader of the Icelandic Progressive Party had retired last month after twenty years as the Treasury Minister. In his long and…interesting tenure, Paul had removed what remained of the wasteful welfare state, abolished income tax and removed the small stockpile of nuclear weapons left by the Americans. He had also been the driving force behind allowing the Faeroe Islands into the North Atlantic Free Trade Zone after she had declared indepedance from Norway. NAFTZ now encomprised all of the various islands of the Arctic Ocean including Svalbard and Novaya Zemlya, athough the latter had a population of around a dozen!
After the meeting ended, Paul struck up a conversation with Bush who had been criticized for hiring mercenaries to attack British Federation trawlers over fishing quotas. Paul, a natural supporter of free trade had opposed it at the start, but ultimately, his support lay with his Texan colleague over some trumped up Imperialists in London.
Later on, while relaxing in a steam bath on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, Paul thanked his lucky stars for the day he had made the decision to leave Texas. Delivering babies in Rosenberg was not the life for him, no siree! What did he have in Reykjavik? A huge apartment, a large investment bank “Iceland-Svalbard Holdings” and as much Johnnie Walker as he could drink!
Ron Paul laid back in his hot-tub, the hot water easing the rheumatism in his bones. He turned on the radio to listen to the “Voice of America” about the only thing he missed from his homeland. “…nether the British or Bretagne Governments were available for comment regarding the alleged sponsoring of the Welsh Liberation Army. Coming up next, does the Canadian Government really wish to see Ontario enter the Union? And what will the final abolition of the Country mean for North America? Question Time will be chaired by Alex Jones, Professor of International Politics at Harvard. The panel will consist of Secretary of State, Bob Barr, Canadian Prime Minister Kenneth Campbell, British Foreign Secretary Neil Hamilton and Former President Slade Gorton.”
Paul breathed out, appalled, the Americans and British really did allow the most inappropriate people into positions of power!
Paris: Republic of France
The ex-Mayor of Paris, Robert Sarkozy, hurried down the Champs-Elysees as fast as his short legs could carry him, dragging a batted suitcase behind him and tightly grasping a leather bound ledger in his one free hand. Sarkozy’s grip of realpolitick was only slightly less impressive than his sense of self-preservation and it was the latter instinct that had made him decide to leave his office several minutes ahead of a vengeful lynch mob that had stormed the Hotel de Ville to do unto him what Bokassa had done unto the Socialists.
He saw the mass of protesters-come-revolutionaries storming over the rubble of the Arc d'Triomphe carrying the banners bearing the slogan of the first revolution and stepped smartly into the first café on his left. The counter was under-stocked to the point of being empty, but the coffee looked to be the real stuff, not the ground acorns that most places had resorted to selling. He glanced at the flickering, silent black and white television in the corner of the room, yes, the body of poor old General-President Brunerie, riddled with enough bullets to resemble a cheese grater, was being tossed out of the Palace of Versailles by the Robespierreists as the revolutionists had been named. Sarko, as his few friends called him, gave a sigh. Yes it would be better red than dead, but surely the whole business of Eurocommunism was a dead duck? The old Italian Social Republic had fallen last year, the Liberal and Social Republic of Belgium had splinted and by the sounds of it the Iberian Federated Peoples Republic was about to go the same way. Catalonia and the Basque County had already declared independence following the invasion of Andalusia by the Mahgreb Federation. Why was France always twenty years behind the rest of Europe? Robert gave a low moan, who stuck around a dead duck? Not even its mother, she just would just fly off depressed!
The war with North Africa had officially ended two hours ago, the bombing of Orleans had been the final straw for the enraged anti-fascists and the well oiled and supported resistance groups had sprung into action with commendable speed. The Armie Pour la Liberation du France had managed to surround Paris after less than half an hour of fighting, helped perhaps by the defection of so many members of the armed forces. Troops from the various breakaway states such as Lille, Brittany and Bordeaux had also decided that perhaps France would be better reunited and had also joined in what was becoming the best French Revolution for years!
As the last straddles marched whooping towards the Eiffel Tower, the flagpole already flying the blood red banner of the Communist uprising, Sarkozy left the café, readjusted his false beard and very noticeable, green, hooded overcoat before heading towards the Dutch embassy in order to apply for asylum. The Netherlands was perhaps not the place for a moderate Fascist such as him, but it would be better to go there before he decided on whether to head for Britain; sweet, conservative, Britain, or the more racialist yet exciting NGR.
Carrying one third of the Parisian Municipal budget behind him, Sarkozy hoped that he would be able to have the funds available that he would need in order to set up his new life.
Amsterdam: Kingdom of the Netherlands
The British Cultural attaché, Harriet, Lady Harman wandered down the streets of the Dutch capital with a grim sneer upon her face, trying to avoid the worst excesses that were sadly typical to the life of the most liberal state in Europe. The dank allies of the city of canals hid an underworld of brothels and drug parlors, hardly the sort of place for a woman of her upbringing. The government back in Westminster was moderating the somewhat insular attitudes that had prevailed in the British Isles for the past century or so, but still, the diminutive aristocrat shuddered as she inadvertently looked in the window of a “Masaje Parlor” there was no need to moderate that much!
After the Germany and the British Federation, the Netherlands was perhaps the most powerful state in Europe, the Dutch had gained Flanders after Belgium had split fifteen years ago and the small, but the powerful collection of nuclear weapons and atomic cannon on the borders had so far been enough to stop the expansionist views of the GNR and the Haider regime. Harman turned down into a more savory avenue at the bottom of the red-light district and paused to buy a bouquet of fine tulips from the roadside seller. He husband better like them she thought to herself, Robert had been somewhat despondent of late; being lumbered at a desk job at the Ministry of Education was not the job for a man of his intellect. If, no, when Redwood slipped up, which he had to soon, the Federation would soon understand the skills of Prime Minister Silk! He would be just the man to lead the new centrist Conservatives to victory over Hillary Benn's Labour Party and Nick Griffins Nationalists.
As things were however, he would just have to wait. Lady Harman paused to look up at the theater; the “King Wilhelm Theater” was showing the latest play by Ken Loach, “The Voices Amongst the Valley”, some stupid, pro-Celtic rubbish about the Welsh riots in the 1970s. The Ministry of Information had banned it of course, but that hadn't stopped the bloody Dutch from showing it! Who was in it again? What a surprise, that pinko, namby-pamby liberal Michael Caine. The formed golden child of the RSC had also been a major film star before graduating back to the theatre after Hammer Films had been shut down for obscenities after the whole “Movie Malevolent” scares last decade. Since then, he had become the most popular actor in the Low Countries and as a result, been banned from returning to the BF. Harman smiled, that had been the best thing her predecessor, Michael Portillo, had done before he had gone off to become Chancellor.
After jotting down her, less than optimistic report, she looked around for a telecommunications store to send it back to Whitehall. The invention of digital communications by Bernards-Lee at British Technological Industries last year had given the Government a monopoly on computer development, leasing the patents had brought in vast sums of money over the past year. Moving into the shop, she marveled at how far technology had developed over her lifetime, imagine, a computer that could fit inside a room! If things continued at this rate, by 2020, the experts had said that personal computers could cost less than one million pounds! It was scary to think what normal people could do with that level of technology…
20 Miles North of Cape Town: Greater South Africa
Jesse Jackson, senior member of the African Liberation Front leaped over the boundary wall of his safehouse moments ahead of the security forces that had been perusing him for the past twenty-eight years. The former leader of the Black African Militia in Columbia had fled the United States back in 1980 in the last of the great ethnic riots. He had finally begun to take up his aim of taking back his ancestral homeland from the white imperialists. Scrabbling down the bank into the large ranch that lay behind the old colonial villa. Jackson risked a glance sideways towards the driveway that the Security Forces had driven upwards.
Jesse risked a small smile, he felt rather flattered that Colonel de Clerk had felt that an entire tank battalion had been required to take him down. Fleeing to the small, almost invisible bunker hidden in the savannah, Jesse took out the RPG and sniper rifle that he had stashed there; the remnants from one of the last shipments from the East African Federation had managed to seek over the border.
The EAF had gone now, not that it had done the South Africans any good. The East African army had managed to remove the most of the Lake Victoria nuclear stockpile in the early stages of the 1970s war and since that point, entire cities and armies had been blown to smithereens during the occupation of Dar es Salaam, Nairobi and the other various cities of the former Federation. Of course, Jackson mused in silent hatred, the f****** Afrikaans had fought back, mass public executions of natives, regardless of whether they were civilians or freedom fighters, medical experiments on prisoners in order to manufacture discriminatory diseases, he shuddered, he had seen what the Roswell virus had done to poor old Thabo Mbeki in the siege of Voi. His lungs had been coming out of his d*** mouth! Against that sort of inhumanity, what mercy could you have?
Putting the old Chinese made scope to his eye he focused on the leader of the SAISF, he gave a grin akin to that which a lion gives to a cornered antelope, Radovan Karadzic had been one of the number of Eastern European military leaders that had come to Africa after the SPSD had fallen apart, given a choice between starving to death in some tinpot microstate in the Balkans or spending the rest of ones life in a warm, African superpower with as many minorities to shoot as you could wish for. It was not surprising the Serbians and Croats were amongst the largest numbers of minorities (though you must never use that word) within the South African armed forces.
Waiting for the man who had shelled Chingola with Sarin gas to move into the crosshairs, Jesse couldn’t wait until his comrades heard of his dramatic escape and perfect killing of another Slavic maniac…
Rio de Janeiro: High Brazil
Looking out of his mahogany paneled office in the elegant surroundings of the British Embassy, the Ambassador to the most powerful nation in South America looked out on the glass skyscrapers and bludgeoning highways of the Brazilian capital with his characteristic jowl. Gordon Brown, the former Treasury Minister of the final Salmon administration had been rather unceremoniously given the boot after the Isles had reunited back in 2005. The Conservatives, wanting to bundle the Scottish socialists as far away as possible had given Brown the very pleasant posting to the South American Federation in order to advise the Brazilians on the best way to keep her vast territories in Government hands (British armour) how to best exploit the natural resources of Amazonia (British mining) and who to sell the aforementioned riches to (Britain). The return towards isolationism that the NAC had embarked upon had left a large hole in South America and Brazil had been almost as delighted to have found a new patron as Britain was.
Brown gave a sigh as he poured himself another glass of iced water from the drinks cabinet. To his credit, Brown was one unlike many of his Scottish counterparts not to spend the majority of his posting in a drunken stupor, “clean body, clean mind” Gordon mentally reviewed as he crushed some ice into the crystal beaker. Walking back to his desk, his eye wandered over his imported copy of The Times noting nothing other than the capture of Bali by the Australasian army and Labour’s victory over the Nationalists in the Glasgow by-election.
Sitting behind his desk, Brown skimmed through the various minutiae of the day. He briefly read a report on the iron ore mines in the Gran Chacos region, the order forms for a new set of Marlborough-class Tanks and reports for the deteriorating state with the communist guerrillas in Patagonia. Brown smiled humourlessly to himself, of all the places for the Welsh rebels to emigrate to, Argentina was not where he would have expected.
But enough paperwork Brown thought! Life could not be all fun and games! His presence at the Presidential Ball had been made compulsory by both Foreign Secretary Neil Hamilton and the Trade and Industry Secretary Michael Howard, two men that it was not advisable to anger. Dressing into his morning suit that the new Anglophiles of the Brazilian Government had dictated as compulsory, Brown made his way towards the Presidential Palace flying the various flags of the various diplomatic missions that were present within Brazil, le Pen’s Brittany, Haider’s Germany, Yeo’s Australasia and Ahmadinejad’s Iran, with its newly re-established Shardom, were all present, although Brown noticed that no Columbian diplomat was present, no surprises there of course! The vast war in the north had already claimed over one million lives without going nuclear. That at least was not a surprise, President Paulo Maluf was, unlike some of his predecessors, not insane, and Hugo Chavez had no intention of reducing his Socialist Paradise into another China. Still, with the American Liberty Corps pushing into Panama and the Brazilians already in the process of annexing Guyana into their new Empire, it could not be long before either Boliviaoplis, Rio or both went skywards.
Still, Brown thought later, with a contract for Shell to open a new refinery on the Caribbean coastline, who cared what the outcome of the war was, business was business and if a few Latin Americans turned to dust in the process, who cared?
T’bilisi: Confederation of Trans-Caucasian Republics
“How could you say such a thing Boris?” exclaimed the American ambassador to his floppy haired British counterpart “Islam is a religion just like any other”. The two men, the conservative, downtrodden figure of Gerald “Georgie” Lucas and the downtrodden, conservative Maximillian Boris de Runcie Johnson walked down the main street of the grimy and dilapidated Caucasian capital. Troops from the various members of the European Customs Union patrolled the streets from partisans and terrorist activity as groups of shabby and cast down peasants returned from working in the various factories that had been set up by European capital. Lucas sighed, the work was all in good faith but it was like buying a new suit for someone that had died.
“You wouldn’t say that if you had seen what the murderous Ostrogoths had done to Athens George!” the British ambassador to one of the more successful Soviet successor states replied as the two men wandered passed the bombed out remnants of the Presidential Palace, “The Mohammedists want to do to the Western world what the Commies did to each other!” Ambassador Johnson, extreme by the standards of the new “Compassionate” Conservatives had been quietly bundled off to the unstable political scene of the mountainous country in order for him to either be kidnapped or, more hopefully, shot by one of the dozens of rebel factions that littered the region.
Walking into the rather optimistically named “Fairview Café” owned and ran by the ECU, the two men found their usual table, in the corner, near the fire exit, away from the doors and windows. At the front of the coffee shop, as with all diplomatic buildings, the front displayed a table detailing the current level of terrorist alert, today, as always, it was displaying the maximum level of red. Johnson grabbed his copy of The Daily Telegraph from the magazine rack, even out in the Near East, it was difficult to escape the media empire that Sir Jeremy Clarkson had managed to build up, “Not bad for a Yorkshireman” Boris thought to himself as he read the latest news from the situation in China. From the sounds of it, Japan was looking increasingly close to declaring war on Taiwan, “the bloody yellow peril never went away” he grumbled under his breath.
Over two cups of the thick, strong mud that the Fairview called coffee, the two men discussed the various writings that the two prolific authors were working on to eat up the tedium of their unofficial exiles from their homeland. By and large, the brace of diplomats were not the likeliest of friends, one an Oxford Classical academic, the other a former factory owner from California. Both had shared a sizable amount of bad luck that had forced them into Government service however. Johnson had been sacked from his post as the youngest Professor of Classics in British history after making some disparaging remarks to the son of the German ambassador whereas Lucas had lost his factory after he had spoken out against Governor Charles Manson. Still, Johnson had managed to write his theses on the economic legacy of Byzantium and Lucas’s latest short story on the futuristic, all conquering “Imperium of Man” had clearly struck a chord by the newly expansionist, optimistic readers of North America. Maybe Governor Charles Norris, the former martial artist turned politician, would be motivated enough to give him compensation.
As they left the dilapidated café, coats buffeted against the freezing wind that was one of the many legacies from the Soviet Civil War, Gerald and Boris headed towards the Parliament House for the planned oil talks regarding the wells that were just starting to be developed in Baku, they were both thrown to the ground by a group of Islamist terrorists, probably from one of the northern republics. Lucas had his last glimpse of daylight for three months as he was bundled into the Lada Van, vaguely recognizing the keystone member of the International Army of Islam, a figure known to the already bound and gagged Johnson, stood over them with a machete tied around his ex-Anatolian Army combat fatigues, the former playwright turned Muslim fundamentalist, Cat Stevens.
Edinburgh: Federation of the British Isles
The elegant streets of the Scottish capital gleamed with rain, the weak summer sun shining upon the steadily dripping roofs and pavements as the various commuters walked briskly towards their places of employment. Few of these people even noticed the two huddled figures that were purposefully hurrying up Princes Street. The two men, the former Foreign Secretary Ken Livingstone and the Ambassador to the Republic of China (Taiwan), Menzies "Ming" Campbell, had met each other in silence at Kings Cross that morning before boarding the eight-hour trip, in a rattling, coffin-like British Rail train. They were now heading for the latest meeting of the political group that was now challenging for dominance in the “New Britain” of Prime Minister John Redwood and the tightly held power of the Conservative Party.
Ken and Ming turned abruptly down a narrow alleyway at the end of the avenue before rapping a complex series of knocks on the deep set door, oddly out of place in the back wall of the Regency townhouse. The oak entranceway opened the merest fraction as a hushed voice in the darkness called out, “The Eagle flies high over Sevastopol” Livingstone and Cook looked at each other confused before the shorter of the two yelled back “Stop acting like bloody John Gould you ginger-nut!” The head of Robin Cook, flushed with righteous anger, popped out of the door like a rather macabre Jack-in-a-box. “Can it Iguana!” the curiously accented individual replied, “Dow youw whante thi whole bloody street ti hear yi?” Pushing the hapless gentleman aside, the two men crossed the threshold of the building, the brightly lit interior showing the tastefully decorated cloakroom filled with dripping overcoats and furled umbrellas. “Shall I taek yi highli noticeable hooded raincoate whiski-breath?” Ignoring the diminutive politician and concerned not to exacerbate the argument between the two belligerents, Campbell quickly enquired as to the state of the Party meeting. “Thi rest hav alreadi arrived and waiting fore youw and thi newt-lover” the ginger haired politician replied. “We're meeting doon in the cellar ov course, for sercuriti” He added as he opened the door in the mahogany paneled walls.
Walking down into the dank and smoky basement of the house of the former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Ming Campbell looked round the grotto-like atmosphere of the undercroft. At one side of the room lay a map of the poor, ragged earth, the corners curled with damp. Campbell sighed as he looked at Europe, the only nations of any real size jumped out at him, the red bulk of the British Federation, with its protectorates of Cyprus, Malta and Calais next to the grey mass of the NGR, which already stretched to the Baltic States and Hungary. The newly formed Peoples Liberal Republic of France, the new name unmarked, lay squished between them. To the east of Germany, a patchwork of various microstates and national republics, created in the aftermath of the Soviet Civil War, lay as a veritable smorgasbord on the chart, ranging from the relatively powerful expanses of the Volga Republic and Tatarstan to virtual nonentities such as the Khamchatkan Directorate and Ural Confederacy. Smiling sadly to himself at the poor state of the world, Campbell shook his head, still, that was something that the Social and Liberal Democratic Party had been founded to solve. The uneasy coalition of figures ranging from former One-Nation Tories to hardcore Marxists had been formed to create a loose leftist opposition to aid Hilary Benn’s Labour Party after he had moved the group towards the right. Not that such a move would be welcomed by the Government, hence the reason that the party had to meet in secret, far away from Westminster.
Alexander Salmon, the Party Chair and former Prime Minister stood up whilst rapping table with his teaspoon. “I call to order the 4th meeting of the Social and Liberal Democrats. Please welcome our newest members to our noble endevour, Mr. George Galloway and Sir Kenneth Clark”. The former Ambassador to the Jerusalem League and Michael Foot’s penultimate Chancellor of the Exchequer both stood to a round of unenthusiastic applause from the floor. “We are all of us gravely concerned regarding the newest piece of legislation regarding the latest round of security measures of the borderline Fascists in Whitehall, the question of our response is something we must discuss and decide upon at once”
“Shpeaking ash a former Prime Minishter Alex” Tony Benn hailed from the end of the table, “It musht be said that thish hash the potenshal to undermine everything that thish nation hash recovered from over the pasht thirty yearsh”. Tony Benn had retired from politics as soon as his referenda back in the ’70 had backfired with the secession of England, his failure to see the nationalism of the English electorate had forced him to head back into self imposed exile. Still, his economic reforms had still left him as a relatively popular figure amongst the left of the party.
“Shut it you trilobite” the highly pitched voice of John Cunningham screeched, “We need action chum, not words from a failed aristocrat like you”.
“Quiet you smuck!” Alan Sugar, the MP for Tower Hamlets ordered from the seat to Benn’s right, “I know more about the real world than you, never seen the streets of Hackney have you, you smoosher!”
“Oh take a chill pill yid!” the relaxed voice of Des Browne retorted, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, even I’m sick of that damn Dick Widdington story”
“This is typical of you Des” Professor David Mitchell, the Cambridge academic yelled, “What the hell gives you the right to be an anti-Semite all of a sudden?”
As the entire meeting dissolved into insults, shouting and personal abuse Alex Salmon buried his face in his hands in quiet desperation. Turning to the figure of the former actor Sean Connery on his left, he took out the pack of Nintendo playing cards from his pocket. He had met Shigeru Miyamoto on his final state visit to Japan back in the summer of 2003. Miyamoto had developed his operation into one of the largest corporations in the Far East in a show of the newly found Japanese confidence. Nintendo even made woodwork tools stamped with their mascot, the cartoon character Jumpman. “Deal ‘em again Sean” he said, the two Scots grinning to themselves at the classic reference to an excellent celluloid film.
Interlude: Brave New Universe
Excerpts from The Economist: Half Year World Review
July 2008 saw the end of the line for John Redwood’s increasingly autocratic Government in London. Hilary Benn, son of the former Prime Minister Tony Benn, saw his newly centrist Labour Party sweep to power alongside the ragtag coalition of former Liberals and Socialists known as the Social and Liberal Democrats. Benn has immediately made moves to reach out to the North American Confederacy, speaking of his intention to create a “Transatlantic Anglosphere”…
…The Peoples Republic of France was born in a true baptism of fire in early July as revolutionaries seized power in Versailles and Paris. Although previous hopes of rebuilding the nation to the size of its pre-1939 borders have failed, the formation of the Francophone Union between the breakaway states have improved hopes amongst liberals within the Peoples Assembly that the nation may yet be restored to its former glory…
…Corsica was the centre of a failed coup by the son of the Former Emperor of the French, Jean Bokassa-Napoleon, in April. No formal communiqué from the Mediterranean island regarding the incident has been received at the time of going to press…
…The nuclear destruction of Boliviaopolis, whilst certainly putting to rest President Smith’s hopes of a second term for the 2009 election, has most definitely strengthened the NAC’s dominant position in South America. While High Brazil has enjoyed a boom in the value of mineral deposits within Amazonia, problems with Argentinean guerrillas in Patagonia have limited the Brazilian push into the former Grand Columbia…
…With the scandalous death of her egotistical Prime Minister, Charles Yeo following his death from asphyxiated due to a less than savory costume; the Peoples Republic of Australasia is rapidly having to coming to terms with the collapse of the Socialist Party. However, with the war against the Khmer Empire bringing Australasian troops to the gates of Phnom Phen, the dominance of the great southern federation must not be underestimated by the growing power of India. Indeed the Hindutva, who once again stand on the edge on acquiring nuclear weapons, must be cautious during the second stages of their invasion of Burma…
…President F.W. de Clerk, who seized power in South Africa three weeks ago, is enjoying record popularity amongst the white minority. While the Republic only narrowly escaped international sanctions after the mass executions of a thousand members of the African Liberation Front, the messages of support from the Haider regime have ensured that the principles of apartheid may continue for some time at least…
…reconstruction in the National Republic of Muscovy is enjoying great success after record funding from the EU has resulted in the nations GNP per person rise to almost $3000, one of the largest in the former Soviet Union. In a message to the Duma in Kirov, Director Vasiliy Kulik has pledged “The reconstruction of Moscow shall be built upon the bodies of the enemies of White Russia…
…Hopes are high in Naples and Milan that the divided nation may soon be united. The Azione Sociale has expressed support for maintaining the monarchy in the event of any unification and the Fascists remain confident that Pope Francis and the Vatican will also be supportive of any such move…
…The rapidly deteriorating situation in the Arctic Circle now threatens to engulf Norway, Iceland and Nova Scotia after Quebecoise naval vessels exchanged fire with a number of freighters within the Icelandic Straights. The members of the newly formed “Halifax Pact” have threatened Quebec with armed responses if the situation becomes worse. However, a peace deal, brokered by Prime Minister Samaranch of Catalonia may yet be supported by the warring powers…
…Reports from China indicate that radiation levels within the nation may not be as high as previously believed. 35 years on from the Sino-Soviet War, the remnants of the Chinese population has recovered to a population of 148 million, mainly concentrated in the west of the nation in a loose triangle between Tibet, Greater Mongolia and India. Reconstruction by Japan has been hampered however due to clashes with the Taiwanese enclave at Macau. The British city of Hong Kong however remains a major base for the Royal Navy…
…Sir Jeremy Clarkson, the British media mogul, has announced that he may run as an independent candidate in the forthcoming London Mayoral Election. Clarkson, as head of the Guardian, Express, Daily Mail and Telegraph newspapers is seen as being a very viable candidate…
…A new breakthrough in computer technology, the variable resistor has been invented by the American Computer Firm, International Computing and Calculating Industries. The Chief Executive of ICCI, Will Wright has pledged to share the technology with rivals and some experts have predicted that home computers may be a reality by the end of the 2020s…
…The ECU has discussed tentative plans for a manned mission to the moon by 2015. The European Space Agency in Triodhelm will in all likelihood be the main launch base for the Frederick the Great space plane…
…The athletes of the National German Republic have relegated America to a distant second in the medal table at the Summer Olympics in Copenhagen. In a message to the German team, The Reichspresident congratulated all sportspersons for “Showing the dominance of the Germanic people over all others”. The games were however slightly overshadowed with the murders of 32 members of the Israeli Athletics Team after their section of the Olympic Village was stormed by members of the PLA. President Ze’evi has pledged to “Attack the Islamo-fascists with all the power of Holy Israel”…
…Owing to the poor security situation in Rio de Janeiro, the 2012 Games may now be moved to London, Chicago or Melbourne…
…Singapore is our top destination for the summer, with its fine Asiatic cuisine, the hustle and bustle of the vast open air markets and the intricate maze of alleyways, this large and busy metropolis is well worth more than a stopover on the way to Sydney. The growing litter problem however is something that needs to be rectified [1]…
…Prince James, eldest son of King Edward IX married his childhood sweetheart, Lady Diana Spencer, in a ceremony at Westminster Abbey in June. The event was attended by every Royal Family in Europe, including members of the newly restored Belgian, Bulgarian and Grecian monarchies. Press speculation regarding Lady Diana’s alleged anorexia failed to put the damper on the festivities…
…Our tip to be this years summer blockbuster? Breakin’ VII: Dance Rock Heaven...
…the new British prog-rock band, The Flighty Zeus [2] stormed into the national lexicon this May with their numerous humorous and catchy songs. Look out for them in the future!
I do hope that you have enjoyed this small interlude!
[1] Apologies!
[2] Well, you need some laughs, even in a dystopia!
Labour Family Values
“Pip…pip…pip…We apologise for the inconvenience…Grand and Supreme General Secretary Chikatilo is still alive…”
Looped CCCP State Radio Broadcast following the Glorious Wars of Cleansing
“The hiatus is finally over comrades!”
Martin Moore to the 2008 Socialist Party Conference
London: Federation of the British Isles
Despite everything that had been throw at it over the past sixty years, the polished black door of Number 10 Downing Street remained a constant in the otherwise turbulent maelstrom of British Politics. The final WLA bombing campaign of the late 1980s may have killed a fifth of Michael Foot’s Cabinet, but unlike the vile concrete bunkers that had gone up in other areas of the metropolis, the elegant Stuart terrace remained largely intact. Within the Cabinet Rooms, Prime Minister Hilary Benn cast his eyes over the grim set faces of his Cabinet, puzzled at the lack of energy within the room.
“What on earth is the matter with you all comrades?” he called, with a level of joviality that showed that he was anything but cheerful. The Labour Party may have been handed a landslide three months prior, but currently the nation seemed gripped in a hopeless malaise, somthing not helped by the unseasonably cold weather.
“Hilary, the problem can be summed up by the old couplet” Chancellor Hattersley replied from the Premier’s immediate right, “We’d like to save the country but by jingo if we do”…“We’ve got no men, we’ve got no wits and we’ve got no money too” Jeremy Corbyn finished the rhyme from the far end of the table. Benn clicked his teeth in disappointment at the refrain. The news about the lack of currency was at least nothing new, the Bank of England had effectively bankrupted herself trying to keep the Pound stable against the Reichsmark and Berlin was becoming more demanding everyday. The whole problem with the Single Currency Area was just one of the many problems that had originated from British membership of the European Customs Union.
“Can we not sell our assets in Aden at all then?” Benn replied, “After all, it is not easy maintaining troops both there and in Nigeria”. That was more than a little true, the Clarkson press were already calling the guerrilla war against Biafra “Britain’s Venezuela” and, Benn though miserably, everyone knew how President Smith's little escapade there had ended.
“Not if you want to see us revert back to the Seventies Benny-boy” Charles Clark stated from the far end. “The oil wells in Arabia will not be operational for at least another five years and after we defaulted on that last lone the Norwegians won’t touch us with a barge pole”
“And other clichés too numerous to mention” the Prime Minister replied. “I’ll get Ambassador Richardson to ask the Yanks for another loan, not that it will do us much good” Sir Ian was a fine debater, yet Hilary wondered how much further he could push L. Neil before the latter finally lost his already frayed temper. Losing the Republican Nomination to his young protégé Randy Parker may not have helped. Still, the race to the White House between the Republican-Libertarians, Socialists and Federalists would certainly be an interesting one.
The meeting closed at something past three…
Heading down the main staircase, Lord Ashdown and David Owen both cast their eyes over the various photographs on the wall; Churchill, Bevin, Eden, MacMillan, Bevan, Jenkins, Powell, Wilson and Benn senior. Both gave their usual smiles at the situation near the first floor landing, did one include the rump United Kingdom PM’s, the English ones, both or neither? In the end, the Crown had chosen the most inelegant choice, portraits of Michael Foot and Neil Kinnock had been hammered home above Enoch Powell, Reginald Maudling and Alexander Salmond, ruining the symmetry of the room. John Redwood had the newest portrait, hung just above Jeffery Archer’s, the pairing of Archer and Redwoord had already been dubbed "The Crook and the Fascist" by the staff of Downing Street.
Ashdown and Owen were two liberals who had joined the Labour Party more as a means of punishing the Tories than by any real support for Socialism. True, the Conservatives were out of office, but what would their response be later on? Farage and Kilroy-Silk were the two frontrunners in the leadership election and who could bare to contemplate the horrors that they would inflict on the country…
…“No”, Dr. Owen thought to himself, all things considered, Britain was better off under the Labour Party.
Algiers: Maghreb Federation
Five months on from their victory in the Guerres d'Expansion Glorieuse, the Wars of Glorious Expansion, the population of the Maghreb Federation was still celebrating the victory of the Pied-Noir’s over their hated brethren in Metropolitan France. The festive attitude however had not rubbed off on the shadowy group of men congregating inside the cramped back room of Café de Lune D'hiver.
The electric fan rattled noisily above the hubbub of the street outside, failing to disturb the smoky, acrid air within as cigars were lit, coffee was poured and chairs were moved around the heavy oak table that had been pushed behind the counter. The various members of La Organisation pour l'Unité Française; the secret society that had been set up to reunited the scattered French people under a single government was meeting together for the first time in months, the last time they had met, the ash had just finished falling around the remains of Tunis.
The side door opened to reveal the figure of Lieutenant-General Jean Bastien-Thiry, a veteran of countless conflicts against the Arab heathens and the former Minister for War. A chair was pushed aside for the de facto leader of the group as the most powerful figure in the organization took his seat next to Jerome Challe, the son of Maurice. Taking his service revolver from the holster, he placed it upon the table in front of him, the sign that the meeting had begun.
The Maghreb Federation had gained a reputation for being the most depraved place on the planet, awash with crime, sex and drugs trafficking. As a result, it was one of the most popular destinations for American tourists taking in a tour of the Mediterranean Coastline. Currently, Sidney Meier, a middle-aged insurance salesman from Ontario was taking in the sights of the capital, his camera working overtime to capture the huge and austere Monument des Martyrs, the gigantic edifice that proudly remembered the victors of the War of Independence. Smiling at the shear hideousness of the memorial, Meier turned round to find a coffee shop; he had not had a decent cup since he had left Genoa.
He stopped just before entering the first one in came to in order to get his bearings, the old Casbah was undoubtedly lovely but it was extremely easy to loose ones bearings in the labyrinthine maze of the citadel’s souks. “Stop you fool, they’re suede!” he shouted at the young Arab boy who had bent down to polish his shoes, too late however, her noticed that another, larger boy had snuck up to him and without much ceremony, a large fist was slammed into the unlucky Ontarian’s stomach. Feeling his camera and wallet snatched away from him, Meier had only enough time to bend double to avoid vomiting over the cobbles, the damn police around her probably had some stupid law that made polluting ancient monuments illegal. Dazed, and without any money aside the emergency $500 note in his ruined loafers, Meier finally entered the café for what was proving to be his most expensive cup of coffee in his life.
The coffee shop was heavy with thick cigar smoke, an old gramophone on the counter blared out a chintzy folk song to the bored looking clientele. Most of them were French-Algerians, but here and their Meier espied the occasional member of the native Algerians intellectual class, the “oulemas”, the least discriminated against of the second class citizens of the Federation. In the typically hesitant French of the inexperience traveler, Meier ordered a “café ou lat” and a “Crossantandwich” from the surly woman at the counter. Signing to himself, he found a table and wondered how he was going to break the news of his mugging to his wife.
Suddenly, he heard a commotion from behind the beaded curtain; he paused and looked around, had no one else noticed the commotion? Rather than reacting, the customers seemed to be studying the floor with a great deal of intensity. “Ezcusem Mwa mongsuwer” Meier called to the man sitting next to him “But cannez vouse teller mwa what is…um…going on?”
Before the man could answer, a gun shot rang out from the back room. Two minutes later, two men, wearing thick balaclavas despite the heat, came out carrying a large carpet that had once been blue but had now acquired a strange, purplish colour. “Vous n'avez vu rien, n'est ce pas?” the young Major stated from the front porch. Meier fled the café in terror, maybe Yellowstone would be a better idea next summer.
Back in Café de Lune D'hiver, General Bastien-Thiry reloaded his revolver in silence, now that that irritating young yid had been dealt with, perhaps the OUF could get back on with the revolution. He doubted that anyone would miss Alain Chabat very much anyway.
A Matter of Public Interest
Central Intelligence Agency
From the Office of the Director
From the Office of the Director
To the Secretary of State: Robert L. Barr
Robert;
Please find enclosed the requested data on currently known nuclear powers as of 27th September 2008. For your convenience I have taken the liberty of subdividing the list into official nuclear powers under the terms of the Nuclear Possession Pact of 2006 and those powers known to have nuclear weapons but who are as of yet undeclared. These catagories are further subdivided into the predicted stockpiles and delivery systems of the said weapons.
N.B: For weapons systems encompassing multiple weapons classes, the most common mode in use is given only
N.N.B: Please note that this list does not include weapons in the possession of prescribed terrorist groups (E.G. African Liberation Front)
Declared Nuclear Powers
North American Confederacy: 13, 450
Orbital Aircraft Delivery: Robert Dorman Class Type II Space Plane
Intercontinental High-altitude Bomber: Constitution Class
International Medium-altitude Bomber: Gallatin Class
Nuclear Artillery: Kennedy Mk. VI Howitzer (360 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Virginia Class
Federation of the British Isles: 4, 467
IHAB: Churchill Class
IMAB: Disraeli Class
Nuclear Artillery: Elizabeth II M130 Howitzer (320 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: St. Albans Class
National Republic of Muscovy: 3,560
IMAB: Peter the Great Class
Nuclear Artillery: Tsar Class Mk. X Howitzer (320 mm)
National German Republic: 2, 500 (aprox.)
OAD: Frederick the Great Class Space Plane
IMAB: Teutonic Class
Nuclear Artillery: Charlemagne Mk. III Howitzer (320 mm)
Peoples Liberal Democratic Republic of France: 2, 330
IHAB: Robespierre Class
IMAB: Barras Class
Nuclear Artillery: Jeanne d’Arc M100 Howitzer (300 mm)
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Thiers Class
Empire of Japan: 2, 246
IHAB: Emperor Showa Class
IMAB: Tokyo Class
Nuclear Artillery: Type 17 Howitzer (250 mm)
Maghreb Federation: 2, 165
IHAB: Algiers Class
IMAB: Maurice Challe Class
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Louis XIV Class
Republic of Australasia: 1, 560
IMAB: Murray-Darling Class
Nuclear Fleet Submarine: Darwin Class
Kingdom of Sweden: 1, 000 (aprox.)
IMAB: Stockholm Class
Nuclear Artillery: Vasa Class Mk. XI Howitzer (280 mm)
Republic of High Brazil: 600 (aprox.)
IMAB: Rio de Janeiro Class
Nuclear Artillery: Amazonia Class M150 (275 mm)
Kingdom of the Netherlands: 515
Nuclear Artillery: Orange Class Mk. II Howitzer
Republic of Quebec: 450
Nuclear Artillery: Montreal Class Type 2 Class (260 mm)
IMAB: Saint Lawrence Class
Republic of Brittney: 200
Nuclear Artillery: Le Pen Class
Grand Columbia: 150*
IMAB: Bolívar Class
Republic of Sardinia: 160
IMAB: Cagliari Class
Liberal Democratic Republic of Portugal: 20 (aprox.)
IMAB: Victory Class
*Grand Columbian stockpile in the process of disarmament under terms of Treaty of Montevideo
Undeclared Nuclear Powers:
N.B All delivery systems currently unknown
N.N.B All totals given are approximations
Grand Hebrew Republic: 1, 000
Union of Greater South Africa: 1, 000
East African Federation: 800
Union of India: 320
National Social Republic of Italy: 150
Kingdom of Italy-Two Sicilies: 120
National Republic of Hungary: 115
Republic of Warsaw: 113
Ukrainian Peoples Republic (Kiev): 110
Volga Republic: 100
Islamic Federative Republic of Tatarstan: 100
Peoples Republic of Anatolia: 100
Republic of Finland: 90
South Urals Confederation: 85
Republic of Denmark: 85
Kingdom of Flanders: 80
Republic of Greater Mongolia: 50
Republic of Sevastapol: 45
Greater Khmer Empire: 30*
*Confirmed after numerous detonations during Battle of Siem Reap
I do hope that this provides the information that you required Bob. I am almost certain that the total number of nuclear powers in the former Soviet Union is far higher, (the total number accounted for going by the current data is equal to less than 30% of the 1972 total) but information from the successor states is so scarce that it is impossible to know for sure what the current totals are. If you required any further information please do not hesitate to contract me.
Best of luck for the elections, I am sure that you will all miss El Neil but Randy Parker is a safe pair of hands, even if he is a bit of an idle doodler (did you see the cartoons that he did of the Cabinet the other week? The ones that looked like they were made out of circles of paper?). Anyway, let us hope that the damn Socialists don’t get in, the Federalists may talk a good game, but where do they stand on the question of the immigrants coming over to deflower our white Caucasian blood? Perhaps I could draw your attention back to the proposed repatriation plan dating back from the McGovern years, Operation Tennenbaum. I would be more than willing to enclose a copy during the next meeting of Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Yours with all due respect;
William L. Pierce
William L. Piece
Director
The Million Voices on the Wind
Rohtang Pass: Union of India
The following transcript is a copy of a memorandum that was found by a group of Japanese mountaineers lodged under a rock in a small cave within the Himalayas, close to the town of Leh; the original manuscript can be found in the archives of the Imperial Geographical Society in Tokyo…
It has been three days since I managed to escape the hideous chimera house of Camp 34, the vile security prison on the plateau of the Hindu Kush, and I can feel my strength beginning to leave me. Oh, the shame of failing my comrades who are dying within that hellish place! The camp has no walls within the prison yard; they must have known that the hundred miles of snow, ice and rock work better than any mere fence can in preventing escape. The things I have seen within that prison though…they are worse than anything I could have imagined. This cave offers very little shelter, and I struggle to hold onto this pencil. Perhaps if you know more about my life, dear reader, you may better understand what I have done.
I remember little of my life in South Africa, the rise of apartheid robbed my father of what little he had in the racial purges of the nineteen-fifties, the racist rhetoric soon gave way to murder and ethnic cleansing. After District Six was bombed by the SADFAF, the attack that killed my mother, my father knew that we had to leave the country for good. The British Federation, though back then it was the United Kingdom of course, seemed welcoming to us immigrants who had everything to give to rebuild the nation after the war.
We arrived at Southampton on the day Aneruin Bevan died, I never knew much about him, although my father had always spoken of the Labour Party with reverence since they gave India her independence back in ’48. Times were harsh but fair in London, father soon managed to find a work as a clerk in the Colonial Office and I worked hard enough at night school to get my degree in between menial jobs in Spitalfields. For a while, the Government seemed happy for us Indians to work alongside the white British, that all changed when Powell took power.
Father stayed up on election night with horror in his eyes, he couldn’t believe that the British, whom he and I had always had the greatest amount of respect for, could be fooled by the populism Powell proclaimed about the “Tiber, flowing with blood”. Father was perhaps the most skilled clerk in his office; he must have worked twice the hours of his co-workers, yet of course, it was he who was made redundant, a “reorganisation of staff” they called it.
He never got another job, he scavenged for work, doing the most degrading, tedious tasks, yet he never made more than pennies. One day, a group of young hooligans tipped a bucket of cow’s blood over him. I saw him enter our tenement block, weeping as he locked himself in our room.
They cut him down the next day.
I spent the next five years in a daze, wandering up and down the country. I saw the Welsh Riots in Cardiff and Fishguard, I remember the years of fear and loathing when civil war broke out between the two, once close races, I was present when Thatcher and her cronies attempted their ill-fated coup against Tony Benn, I saw all this, and thought of my Homeland, far across the sea.
I arrived in Calcutta in the summer of 1980, the year the Soviets finally turned in on themselves in the nuclear holocaust that accompanied the fall of Chikatilo. The Hindutva were already gaining in popularity back then, Muslim and Sikh alike were already running scared, I didn’t care back then, I was home, and amongst people who could respect me for whom I was, not whom I should have been.
The party were swept to power in 1984, the year that the Europeans orbited the planet and Mexico was invaded by the Americans, not for the first time I should add! Respectful of the legacy of my grandfather, I was given a high-ranking, but largely ceremonial role in the Government in Delhi, supervising the creation of the partition wall with Pakistan. Did I know about the dark heart of my Government comrades, the purges of the non-Hindu classes, the reestablishment of the caste system, and the nuclear program in Kashmir? Yes, of course, but what could I have done? What would you have done?
I knew what nuclear bombs could do, I visited the border of what used to be China, from the missile bases in Nepal, one could see to the blackened, twisted landscape of what had been the oldest civilisation on earth, but the Chinese were not worthy of sympathy in the new Hindu Empire, at least, that I what I was told. Up on the snowline, one could almost hear the screams of the tormented souls, eking out a living on that darkening plain.
The administration became even more paranoid during the 1990’s, we were so close to the weapons that would have given us control of Indochina, but after the invasion of Pakistan and President Attri’s personal orders to flood Bangladesh. I knew I could go no further.
Perhaps I could have survived, had the Americans not bombed Mumbai and the nuclear plants. Someone had to take the fall, and that someone, as the grandson of a known pacifist, was me. I was sentenced to a life of hard labour in the windswept plateaux on the roof of the world.
I can feel the chill of these icy winds forcing me onwards, unless by some miracle I survive this arduous journey, know that what I have done has been within the pursuit of freedom, liberty and democracy with the aim of these values being re-established for all time.
I sign this with my true name;
Arun Manilal Ghandi
A bunker, somewhere in the Directorate of Kamchatka…
“Are the warheads close to completion?”
“Nnn…nnnot quite yet General Secretary, the anthrax cultures still need time for development and the refrigeration tanks are still too…”
“Baa!” ejaculated the former leader of the Soviet Union to his cowering chief scientist. It had been “Nnn...nnnot quite yet!” for the past eighteen years. He was not a man easy to anger, but sometimes those wastrels who had fled Moscow with him were simply too lazy to believe.
Still, he had been waiting eighteen years for this moment of triumph and in God’s name (if he was the type of man who believed in God) he could wait some time yet.
Pausing to reflect once more on the genius of his masterplan, Andrei Chikatilo began to laugh…
“One-Third of American Men suffer from Election Problems”
Today, we look at everyday life in the North American Confederacy in the run up to the 2008 Presidential Election.
I shall also be posting a map of the world at some point, although as my Paint.NET skills are so utterly abysmal I do hope that you will not be too disappointed at my efforts. If anyone would like to have a go themselves at improving my mapmaking efforts I would be very grateful!
Chicago, Illinois: North American Confederacy
Gail Winfrey, deputy political editor for the Chicago Tribune, calmly walked through Lincoln Park, savoring the last few days of the autumn. Although already well into October, the air was still warm and dry from the westerly winds, the air bringing in the tangible tang of agriculture from the Great Plains.
Winfrey gave an appreciative nod as she bought a paper from the nearby news stand. After decades of decline, the City Council had finally got into the spirit of urban renewal and the largest green space in the city was finally being rejuvenated from the shootings and bombings that had been the order of the day back in the 70’s. Illinois had recovered far more than most States in the NAC from the race riots of the Gable, Foss, McGovern and Jones Presidencies, but Winfrey was still one of the rarest things in America, a prominent black woman.
As she passed the statue of Former-President Grant, Winfrey reflected on her life, she had fled, along with her mother to the Prairie State back in ’62, as the South (well, every where, but the South in particular) erupted into the near-civil that followed the whole Lafollette Square Debacle. She had had to work hard to survive during those “Years of Fire and Smoke” as the Afro-American Community had dubbed those hard years during the sixties and seventies. Oddly enough, it had been the Haig Years, when America had become a virtual dictatorship, that the persecution had finally begun to stop. Opposition to the military had united most of the Left and Centrists against the autocracy of Haig and Gorton.
She sat outside her favorite park café and ordered a cappuccino. Formally one of a vast number of exotic and rare delicacies, the abolition of most sales taxes and the end of economic protectionism had finally given ordinary Americans access to cheese that wasn’t orange and hallucinogenic, coffee that wasn’t powdered and freeze-dried and vegetables other than potatoes and carrots. Winfrey was loathed to call herself a Smithite, after all, the black community was never going to get out of the almost terminal poverty most were born into without some state assistance, but still, it really was damn good coffee!
A natural liberal, Winfrey was a keen reader of the New York Times, which was now, after being shut down for most of the eighties, once again the natural newspaper of the left in America.
Smoothing out the creased front cover, the journalist began to read.
Quote:
Decision ‘08
Presidency: “Too Close to Call”
Presidency: “Too Close to Call”
By our Chief Political Correspondent: Hillary Rodham
WASHINGTON: With less than a month to go before Election Day, a gap between candidates has yet to open in the race to the White House. In a statement to the Republican-Libertarian Party, President Smith stated that, “A vote for anyone but Randy Parker is a vote for interference and creeping Socialism”. The President’s comments have proved controversial in Congress however with numerous Federalists calling foul over what Montana Senator Richard Jore claimed to be “bitter and twisted sentiments from a Presidential Pariah” with his running mate Ann Coulter also claiming that “The nation has had enough of this closet Communist”. Governor Parker hit back over comments regarding his relative youth and inexperience claiming that “I intend to prove that all Americans will respect my administrations authority” [1].
These comments came after the latest opinion polls showed Senator Jore with a slim lead over Governor Parker in Tennessee. Senator Moore’s campaign team has already pulled out of the state, effectively creating a two-horse race between Libertarians and Federalists within the south. However, the Socialist Party will have been encouraged by good showings in both Maine and California, where the latest polls predict a handsome victory for Moore. Both of Moore's opponents have also pulled out of Columbia, Manitoba and Saskatchewan, the first time that the former Canadian Provinces will vote as full member states. However, Alberta remains a toss-up between Parker and Jore.
The latest poll conducted by the Times has revealed a current voting breakdown of;
31% Parker-Giuliani (Libertarian-Republican)
30% Jore-Coulter (Federalist)
28% Moore-Edwards (Socialist)
11% Undecided
LONDON: The Conservative Party officially split yesterday, with Libertarians under the leadership of the former Defence Secretary David Davis leaving the party after the Neo-Powellite candidate Robert Kilroy-Silk was elected Party Leader. Mr. Davis left the party along with around 70 fellow MPs claiming that, "I can no longer serve under a party of such extremist ideology". In a statement to the House of Commons, Home Secretary Cruddas claimed that...
Winfrey stopped reading as she contemplated how she was going to vote, whilst she despised the lack of funding that the Fed was giving to vulnerable figures in society, the more northern states were effectively free to do as they wished when it came to taxation. Illinois had followed Vermont, Oregon and several other states in refusing to abolish Income tax, and although the police force had been privatized, the education systems of most of the Northern states had yet to be.
The election was turning out to be a puzzler, no mistake about it…
Finishing her coffee, Winfrey had only enough time to read a brief story about some lawyer named “Barrack Obrama” or something like that, being sentenced to life over alleged terrorist activities conducted back in the ‘70s with the old “Black Underground Movement”.
As she walked back towards her office, Winfrey couldn’t help but wonder if this anti-Government stance was the right thing to do. Granted, taxes were very low nowadays, but equally, with so much money to spend on formally free or subsidized products, she wondered if people really were better off under the Libertarians. Equally, the occupation of Central America couldn’t be sustained for much longer without some Government intervention at least, could it?
Pausing only to look at the tragically humorous fight between competing park maintenance companies, sixteen private firms now existed in the city where there had formally been one controlled by the city council. Winfrey wondered, not for the first time, if she should immigrate somewhere else. Europe was still too volatile; Chancellor Jorg Haider had already begun to move troops towards the border with the Republic of Cracow [2] and there were increasingly strange rumours coming from the Russian Far East about, something…
Perhaps Australasia would be a good idea, she though; rich, liberal but not too liberal, in need of jobs and peaceful now that the war with the Khmer Empire was nearly over. She had also heard that houses in Sydney were far superior to her pokey little flat near the squat grey monstrosity of the Sears Tower. Maybe she should think about the job after all. Now, if only Bill would stop going on about moving to Britain all the time. He seemed to have the most terrible case of Anglophilia, maybe that was the thing about Iowans, never happy in one place for too long…
[1] Or should that be “authoritah!”
[2] No car crash for him in TTL
Things Fall Apart
Lagos: Dominion of Nigeria
“It’s a good speech, just a little too long” commented Prime Minister Chinua Achebe to his Attorney General. “It’s exceptionally good as a matter of fact,” Charles Thomas gave one of his rare smiles at the complement as he polished his trademark horn-winged spectacles.
“Well, I always did have a way with words Chinua!” Thomas replied with a trace of irony. “It is hardly my position to order you what to say of course, but we have to be clear in how we are to address the Governor-General”. The two men, two of the brightest in the whole of Nigeria had been preparing this speech for months, but, with the sizable nuclear-armed garrison in RAF Lagos Island, nether had been willing to pull the tail of the British Lion. With the fall of John Redwood however, Prime Minister Benn seemed far more willing to compromise on the question of Nigerian independence.
Yawning to himself as he stood up from the colonial-era desk, Achebe walked to the opened window of his Official Residence. The office, built at a time when a quarter of the world had been pink, was almost oppressively British; wood-panelling, floor to ceiling bookshelves and heavy mahogany furniture all gave an aura that was more fitting to an Oxbridge college than an African legislative building.
“You know Charles”, Achebe said wearily, as he paced his inner sanctum “I am tired of this job”. This was true at least; as head of the National Congress Party of Nigeria, he had been Prime Minister for over 24 years. As one of the longest serving heads-of-Government in Africa, and certainly the most respected, he had decided to leave office with a bang by declaring the establishment of a Constitutional Convention to decide on the future of Nigeria’s co-operation with the British Federation.
The Dominion of Nigeria had come into existence back when the United Kingdom had split back in the ‘70s. It had been the last ditch attempt by Enoch Powell to keep the country under British control by granting the Nigerians full autonomy in the same vain as Canada and Australia. Although many nationalists, Achebe amongst them, had opposed the plan, after seeing the state of the former French territories in the aftermath of the bombing of the “Equatorial Pork Farms” most had consented to remain under the (mostly) benevolent wing of Whitehall. Many had not however, which had been the primary reason for the long and bloody civil war with Biafra. Achebe had supported his countrymen in the South to start with, but after they made deals with the French Imperial Remnant in Chad to supply the remaining facilities with captured troops, he had been forced to give up on them.
“I am sure that Lord Portillo will co-operate” Thomas said, interrupting Achebe’s fitful reminiscing of those dreadful times, “He has always been supportive of ways of limiting the pressures on the British Exchequer”. Thomas had used his superb legal mind, in addition to his unscrupulous personality, to carve out one of the largest business empires in West Africa. Although, given some of the areas that his corporation had driven into, he had been careful to ensure that,the position that he held in his organisation was somewhat less responsible for legal matters than the tea ladies.
A tall, impeccably tailored butler entered the office without a sound, carrying a tray. “Care for some tea Charles?” Achebe offered, proffering the silver teapot. Thomas shook his head; he had never been too fond of the beverage, he much preferred coffee.
“I wondered if perhaps, you had considered changing your mind about nationalising the oil companies after Independence?” the Attorney General asked. “I would stand to loose a great deal of money if the Government was to do so”
“I am sorry Charles” Achebe lied “But the needs of the majority must go before the needs of the few”. The Prime Minister was disappointed at his colleague’s refusal to give up his assets. Did he not have enough money already? Still, perhaps some arrangement could be met before too long, he thought as he sipped his rather bitter tea.
“Have you given any consideration to your replacement Chinua?” Thomas persisted, “Only, I feel that you may need to decide sooner that you thought” Achebe tried to answer, but his throat felt as he had been eating salt. The room was already moving, the colours off his lieutenant blending into the background.
Thomas waited until his comrade had stopped twitching before he called the butler back into the office. “Well done Mr. Cameron. I thought that he was never going to drink it”. The MI6 agent flashed his easy smile at the Attorney-General; both men were now most definitely due a promotion.
“Well, he had been a thorn in London’s side for too long” the secret agent replied “With him out of the picture, these idiotic Africans should desist in their silly little notions of independence”.
As the two men left the office, on the other side of the city, a junior clerk in the Ministry of Information was finalising a draft statement announcing the sad demise of the Nigerian Prime Minister, the proposed referendum on independence was of course to be scrapped.
Excerpts from Time: The 100 Most Powerful People in the World
1. Joerg Haider: As Chancellor of the National German Republic, Haider has gained both congratulation and condemnation in his first four months as leader of Germany. Although his political vessel, the “National Front for Germanic Liberation” is undoubtedly neo-fascist in tone and ideology, his political stance lacks the rampant racialism of the Nazi Party, indeed, Germanys Jewish population is once again at levels not seen since the era of the Weimar Republic. The immense size of the “Fourth Reich”, which currently stretches from Strasburg to Konigsberg, has given German access to the largest manufacturing base in Europe, which, as a factor in the European Customs Union has created the largest trading force in the world after that of the North American Confederacy.
12. Governor Randolph Parker: The young wunderkind of the Republican Party is the favourite to win next month’s presidential election, the most hotly contested in years. A keen Libertarian, strongly influenced by his political guru, President L. Neil Smith, Parker has announced that any future administration would have to adopt a more direct and interventionist foreign policy over the piecemeal and unpopular escapade to Central America carried out by the current Government. His reign as Governor of Colorado, in which he has reduced public spending and legalised most recreational drugs, has been praised by all but the most polarising of political commentators. Bright, humorous and charismatic, Governor Parker looks set to remain a dominant figure in American politics for many years to come, regardless of the outcome of November’s election.
29. Cherie Booth KC: The new British Chancellor of the Exchequer, who replaced Roy Hattersley last week after the latter was tragically killed in a car crash, has already marked herself out as perhaps the most dominant and devisive figure in the British Government. In contrast to the measured personality of Hilary Benn, Ms. Booth, a former King’s Counsel, has constantly spoken out against the right of the Labour Party. Her current regime at the Treasury in Whitehall has already seen much greater emphasis on wealth redistribution and increased spending on welfare, considered to be a major backlash against the hard right monetarist policies seen in the Archer and Redwood Premierships. Seen as a potential Prime Minister in waiting, Ms. Booth should not be underestimated by her fellow European finance ministers.
32. Richard Branson: The major-domo of international shipping, Branson has become the driving force behind the deregulation of world trade. As head of the Maria shipping and importing network, Branson currently holds a 9% stake in the world’s container vessels including the Tabula Rasa, the world’s largest ship, built at the National Reykjavik Shipyards owned by Branson’s hero, former Icelandic Finance Minister Ron Paul (No. 83). Currently ranked as the tenth-richest businessman in the world, Branson clearly has the potential to dominate the foundation of the World Trade Organisation, a free market forum due to be set up by March of next year.
58. Narayan Mittal: As one of the most prominent figures in the Indian Government, Mittal has been the senior figure behind the current expansionism of the Hindutva. As Minister for War, Mittal masterminded the atomic bomb program of the late ‘80s before being sacked after the bombing of Mumbai. Narrowly escaping imprisonment, the 60 year old has once again risen to favour after the successful annexation of Burma into the Hindu Empire. Spoken of as a potential future leader, if Mittal can use his political prowess to resolve the territorial disputes between Taiwan and China, the former steel worker may yet find himself as the dominant figure in the Indian political spectrum.
Atlas Shrugged
Denver, Colorado: North American Confederacy
“Ladies and Gentlemen; the President-elect of the North American Confederacy!”
Governor Randolph Steven Parker jogged up to the forefront of the stage with his typical manic energy. Around him, the cheers and wild jubilation of his supporters filled the cool November air with a firmly level of heat and vigour rare to American politics. Red, white and blue balloons filled the air around him, and the penguin mascot of the Republican-Libertarian Party seemed to add a sense of jollity to the proceedings.
“Hey, don’t start without me guys” the new POTUS shouted into the microphone “This is, you must remember, my party just as much as yours!”
The crowd gave an appreciative laugh at the minor level of arrogance, after such a tight race, few in the Party would have denied Randy Parker the right to hog the limelight. Although the polls had predicted a Parker victory, what with the South going to the Federalists and Vermont, Pennsylvania and Ohio narrowly going for Moore, less than four hours ago, most networks had begun to call the election for the Socialist Party. In the end however, with some arm twisting, not to mention a last minute push for votes, first Texas, then California, New York and Chihuahua had fallen into the yellow camp. As their leader worked the crowd into a frenzy, Parker’s campaign team were enjoying watching the various news-anchors and posters squirming in their seats attempting to rectify their previous mistakes.
“Shame that the Tribune didn’t print another “Dewey Defeats Kennedy” eh Rudy?” the campaign leader, Jean-Serge Brisson noted to the Vice-President-elect.
“Well you know the liberal media John” the former New York Senator replied, “They never do learn or accept their mistakes”.
The two men smiled at the victory, the fatigue of the past few days had evaporated in the heat of victory, and at the moment, they were content just to sit in the wings waiting for the inevitable mention from the new Commander-in-Chief.
“Some say that I am a clown, ladies and gentlemen” Parker pontificated by the podium, “That I would rather make people laugh that steer this ship in the right direction. There is a name for people who don’t want make people laugh but want to force their views on people. Hippies. And in my mind, there is no bigger hippy than Senator Moore. The thing about hippies is, no matter how much that they say that they wish to save the planet, in reality all they want to do is sit about and smoke pot.”
Several thousand miles away, the screen froze on the audiences’ laughter.
Ulaanbaatar: Peoples Republic of Mongolia
The American Special Envoy to Mongolia almost slammed the remote down in a fit of understandable pique. After so long, Ted Kennedy had thought that the American public was going to do the right thing.
“B******!” he screamed at the television set. “That’s it, it’s done, it’s the end of the world as we know it”.
“Ever the optimist Ted” his number two replied calmly “You always assume that the American people must do as you would otherwise they are merely setting the scene for the apocalypse” Stuart Leibowitz, the former US Consul to Tel Aviv, had been one of the numerous members on the left of the American diplomatic corps to retreat into near-exile after the “Quiet Revolution” of President Smith’s first year in office.
Even with his colleague fuming behind the desk, Leibowitz could still find enough humour to smile. Without a word, he swivelled on his chair and turned the television back on. This time, the scene had switched to snowy Oregon, where Senator Martin Moore was addressing a crowd of supporters. Flanked by his Running Mate, Governor Ayers of Colombia, and his campaign manager, Bernie Sanders, Moore was sonorously reading out a concession speech that appeared to have been typed out at the last minute. All of his supporters looked bitter, angry and vengeful, understandable, Kennedy though, given the results that they had heard over the past few hours.
“Comrades, this has been a difficult campaign, but one that I have relished every moment of…”
“Ah! The first rule of a good speech Teddy” Stuart interjected to his friend “always start with a joke!”. The look Kennedy gave back could have frozen hell three times over.
“…the immense breakthrough that we have made!” Moore continued “We have the entirety of Western Canada, outside Alberta, firmly supportive of our message of hope and change for the people of this divided nation. Let us not forget that we did not even exist as a party five years ago, now, we have Congress-people, Senators, Governors, all committed to the ideals of state ownership and the welfare state. We have only been halted today, next time, socialism will fight, and socialism will be right!”
“Turn the fecking thing off Stu, I can’t bear to hear anymore” the envoy moaned as the scene switched to an equally wintery Montana, where Richard Jore was reading out a slightly more eloquent dialogue to the Federalist Party members.
“Don’t look so down you smuck!” Leibowitz cried as he turned to the sideboard “What you need, is some piping hot tea” Kennedy groaned again but accepted the steaming cup with both hands. He drank a sip before gagging at the rancid concoction.
“Bergh! What the hell is in this?” he said, sniffing the cup, “You’re not using goddamn dogs milk again”
“Don’t look at me like that; it lasts longer than any other type of milk!”
“Why?”
“No sane person will drink it!”
“Oh how droll” Kennedy stated in a humourless tone of voice. “Still” he said as he wiped his upper lip with his old handkerchief, “if we are stuck here for another four years then we need to try and make some more money for our glorious masters in Washington”
Turning to the map of East Asia that covered the entire left hand side of the room, Kennedy indicated a railway line that just skirted the Khanate on the border with the Republic of Vladivostok. “Relations with the Republic are somewhat strained of late” he stated “Would it not be a dreadful thing if another war was to break out?”
“I suppose it would Ted, you don’t suppose a terrorist attack on the railroad could tip things over the edge do you?” In any war in the Far East, the Mongol Empire needed weapons, and the two diplomats could find and sell the most astonishing array of armour and guns to the Mongolian Government if the Armies of the Gobi Desert needed them.
“Well, we would have to hope not Stu. Still, if hostilities were to break out we would, as purveyors of peacekeeping equipment be forced to take a small commission on any sales of said martial paraphernalia”
The two men left the office of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs with a smile. As they passed the magnificently dressed flunkies guarding the Office of the Minister, Kennedy turned to his young protégé “By the way, if you want to succeed in this place Stu, you could do a lot worse than reading this” he passed a small, batted paperback to his colleague, “The Most Extraordinary Life of Baron Roman Ungern von Sternberg”
Complications of a Dystopian Nature
15 miles east of Ussuriysk: Republic of Vladivostok
“Set the charges, destroy the entire line!”
Edward Kennedy, silhouetted in the indigo twilight of the night, was rapidly calling out a series of orders to the members of the Mongolian Peoples Army who had accompanied the two diplomats across the border earlier that night. Kennedy, Leibowitz and the dozen or so bribed troops were now busily laying the charges across the Vladivostok-Kamchatsky Railroad as a means of staging a “terrorist attack”. The freezing air lay like an oppressive blanket over the scene, as the various troops dug and deposited soil near the icebound lake.
On a spoil heap overlooking the sabotage efforts, Stuart Leibowitz stamped his feet, which were beyond cold even in their yak-hind boots, and thought of fireplaces and hot cocoa. He sniffed and pondered how long it would take before they would be able to pitch their yurts for the night.
The Republic of Vladivostok was perhaps the most stable and democratic of all the former Soviet States in the Far East. Under her first President, Yul Brynner, and nowerdays Boris Gryzlov, she had managed to escape the majority of the fighting of the Second Russian Civil War. Brynner had scuttled the majority of the Far Eastern Fleet in her harbour before the sailors could mutiny, and the various other states in the region had avoided direct confrontation with the Republic. The Japanese advance down the Chinese coast had skirted the borders, and even Mongolia had been afraid of a major conflict with her neighbor. A tough isolationist policy had also spared Vladivostok the worst effects of SPID.
Lights in the distance drew Stuart from his icy delirium, he paused, what on earth was a locomotive doing on the line at this time of night?
Drawing the early warning whistle to his lips, he blew into it, swearing in agony as the frozen metal stuck to the skin. Ragging the whistle from his mouth, Leibowitz let a most extraordinary number of non-Jewish curses escape his mouth. By the time he had recovered his composure, the persistent train had already halved the distance between it and the would-be-saboteurs. Thinking quickly, the young diplomat threw himself to the ground, thankful that his black overcoat would not make him noticeable amongst the pitch-blackness of the ground.
The warning had come too late for the Mongolian troops by the side of the railway. As Edward Kennedy snuck away towards the armored truck hidden in the woodland by the side of the lake, the first shots rang out, felling two troops carrying the explosives. Turning to his side, Kennedy made out a number of marksmen on the front of the engine car, the last surviving brother of Joseph P. Kennedy had only enough time to appreciate the quality of the guards marksmanship before the young colonel who had accompanied the team put a bullet through the back of his skull.
The train drew to a halt and discharged a handful of soldiers from the guards van. This close up, Stuart was able to see that it was former rolling-stock of the Trans-Siberian Express. He let out an appreciative gasp; he had not known that any had survived the Civil War. On a more pragmatic level, knowing that he no longer had a hope in hell of surviving on his own in the wilderness, maybe by sneaking aboard the train he would be able to make it as far as the Directorate of Kamchatka. Timing would be everything as he eyed up the distance between him and the carriage.
“Three…two…one…go!” His first though was that he had completely misjudged the distance, that he would surely be seen by the troops on the ground. Yet by some miracle he was able to reach the train, jump onto the carriage and crawl into an open window without being seen. Like a cat, he fell into the interior without a sound.
The train-car still bore the hall marks of Tsarist luxury; even Lazar Kaganovich had appreciated the aesthetics of the Trans-Siberian, but it was a shabby, threadbare, grandeur that, even in the half-light, bore clear signs of neglect. The compulsory portraits of Lenin, Stalin and Mikhail Suslov showed that the train had been decommissioned long before the Sino-Soviet War, so what on earth was it doing running in this corner of the former USSR?
Hushed voices in the corridor prompted Stuart to panic, looking for a place to hide he ducked under a dustsheet that was covering a silk divan and held his breath. He heard the door slide open and close as two figures entered the compartment and turn the lights on. They were, bizarrely, speaking English which did of course make it easier to understand what the two men were talking about. Although most of what they were saying was so crazy that most of it made little sense anyway.
“…partisan attack, nothing to worry about.” The first man was in the midst of conversation “As I was saying, I am immensely grateful to you Doctor Hwang. I can see that the decision to grant you amnesty during the Korean Crisis was not ill founded”
“The pleasure is all mine Comrade Ivankov. It is so gratifying to have employers who truly appreciate my genius.” The second person, “Doctor Hwang” was speaking with a Korean accent, not that there were many of those around these days, Stuart thought to himself.
Risking a peep out of the dustsheet, Leibowitz was able to make out the two men standing in the middle of the carriage standing next to a Socialist Realist painting of a collective farm. The first man, Ivankov, spoke with a Russian accent, but had vaguely oriental features and the long, sinewy body of a wrestler. The other, Hwang, was wearing a lab coat and carrying what appeared to be a large metal lunchbox. Ivankov removed his army greatcoat and began to pour plum brandy as he continued to speak.
“As you can imagine, the new strains that you have developed must be able to survive the transit process. We will only have one shot at this scheme and the General-Secretary is, I can assure you, not a man who tolerates mistakes.”
“The anthrax and Ebola cultures are able to blend together quite easily under the correct conditions and can survive temperatures of up to -80 degrees Celsius” Hwang counted in response “The data about the SPID Research Program in the ‘60s was of obvious use, as was the information about the Sheridan ‘Flu Agent Ames was able to procure for the Intelligence Services.”
“You will have no more than six weeks to complete the breeding process. The Anglo-American Summit is the only time that Benn and Parker will be together, the ECU Heads of Government meeting is a rare occurrence and with the current situation in Cracow, the Muscovites and Germans will not be seeing much of each other after the Conference in Königsberg.” Ivankov paused in the middle of his refrain to gulp down his spirit. Stuart had to hand it to the Russians, what other race could willingly drink paint stripper with such relish?
“We will be arriving in Kamchatka in around six hours. Make sure that your report is finalised for when we get there!” Vyacheslav Ivankov spun on his heels before leaving the compartment. Leibowitz and the Doctor were now on their own as Hwang Woo-Suk sat down at the desk, which was piled high with a mountain of papers and science textbooks.
“Well, now what?” Stuart thought to himself as the train pushed onwards through the bitter Siberian night
Not Without Right!
Langley: Virginia
Central Intelligence Agency
From the Office of the Director
From the Office of the Director
To the President-elect of the North American Confederacy: The Hon. Randolph Parker
Mr President-elect;
Under the Prevention of Terrorism (Intelligence) Act of 1995, as Director of the CIA I am compelled by the provisions of the aforementioned act to provide you with the latest intelligence of all terrorist groups known to be operational within the NAC. For your own convenience; I have divided each section into the current status each group has on the Feingold Terror Alertness Level* known leader(s), current aims and objectives, major terrorist acts committed within the past six months as well as any other relevant notations regarding their activities.
National Monarchist League of Canada:
Alertness Level: Gamma
Known Leadership: Avril P. D. Campbell, Gordon MacKay
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- The re-establishment of the Canadian Monarchy
- Removal of all NAC troops from Canadian soil
- Reintegration of Western Canada with the de jure independent Canadian rump state
- Annexation of the Republic of Quebec and forced repatriation of Québécois nationals and all other French speakers
- Assassination of American Ambassador to Canada John Bolton
- Assassination of Quebecois Prime Minister Bernard Lortie
- Assassination of French Ambassador to the North American Confederacy: Olivier Besancenot
- Bombing of French Embassy in Ontario
Alertness Level: Theta (money laundering only)
Known Leadership: Elfyn Llwyd, Gareth David-Lloyd
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Full independence of Wales (Cymru) from the British Federation
- Abolition of all English culture and heritage from the country
- Bombing of Welsh Office Headquarters in Cardiff (Operation Torchwood)
- Assassination of Welsh Minister Shaun Woodward
Zapatista Army of National Liberation:
Alertness Level: Alpha
Known Leadership: María Gloria Elorriaga (Subcomadante Elisa)
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Return of all Mexican territory captured during the Haig Years
- Some factions also call for return of Texas, New Mexico and other Latino-dominated States
- Establishment of an Anarcho-Libertarian Mexican Republic
- The trial and execution of Slade Gorton and other prominent members of the NAC Government deemed to be “responsible” for the military occupation of the country during the mid eighties
- Bombing of the Empire State Building and New Statue of Liberty
- Suicide bombing campaign in Occupied Mexico and Texas (1992-Present)
- Assassination of NAC Commander of the Mexican Security Forces: General Peter Schoomaker
Alertness Level: Beta
Known Leadership: Heath Palin
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Independence of the State of Alaska from the North American Confederacy
- Annexation of the Yukon Territory into the hypothetical “Republic of Alaska”
- Compensation for the Nome Incident in 1994
- Hijacking and later scuttling of the NAC Navy destroyer USS Jefferson
- Numerous acts of piracy in and around the Bering Straight
- Assassination of Governor Maurice Gravel and Senator Francis Murkowski
Second White Rose Movement:
Alertness Level: Theta (money laundering only)
Known Leadership: Unknown
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Overthrow of the current German Government
- Release of all political prisoners within Germany
- Independence for Switzerland and Austria
- Formal apology for WWII War Crimes
- Kidnapping of Interior Minister Udo Voigt
- Bombing of Brandenburg Gate
- Random acts of vandalism and graffiti
Brotherhood of Christ:
Alertness Level: Beta
Known Leadership: Ernest Duke
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Establishment of Theocratic Government within the NAC
- Constitution to be rewritten inline with Christian ideology
- Repatriation of all non-whites from NAC
- Lynching of black and Islamic students
- Firebombing campaign of Mosques and Synagogues throughout the Deep South
- Some Mormons and Homosexuals have also been killed by Brotherhood members
Alertness Level: Alpha
Known Leadership: No Overall Leader, known sectional commanders include Jesse Jackson (South African Sector) Kenneth Kardashian (Armenian Sector) Yusuf Islam (CTCR Sector)
Primary Aims and Objectives:
- Full civil rights for people of African descent within the NAC
- Establishment of Sharia Law in predominantly Islamic countries
- Compensation for deaths and injuries resulting from the race riots between 1950 and 1980
- Some radicals within the AILF have called for the establishment of “New Afrika” in the Deep South.
- Assassination of leading Southern Baptist Minister, Michael Huckabee
- Numerous acts of terrorism in Greater South Africa (Jackson is known to have killed Colonel Radovan Karadzic in June)
- Firebombing campaign against Christian churches within the South
I do hope that this information is of use to you Mr. President-elect. The team I have here in Langley is a fine one, and you have no need to worry for the safely of the country whilst I am in charge. I believe that President Smith speaks highly off me and if you were to see your way to allowing me to remain as Director of the Central Intelligence Agency you would not find yourself wanting.
Yours with all due respect;
William L. Pierce
William L. Pierce
Director
William Luther Pierce signed his letter with an angry scrawl and sent it rushing down the pneumatic tube network to be processed. His Assistant, the former Deputy Secretary of State Richard Bruce Cheney, hurriedly passed a memo into his hand.
“It’s from Special Envoy Leibowitz Mr. Director” Cheney explained “It seems to have originated from somewhere in the Russian Far East"
“That dang yid!” the ever diplomatic intelligence chief retorted “what the hell does he want now?”
“I don’t know Sir” the Assistant-Director replied “but from the sounds of it, it appears that it was sent from a telex machine from General Secretary Suslov’s old Command Train”
A haunted look momentarily flashed over Pierce’s face. Cheney was about to register his concern when the Director yelled his response.
“Get outta here Dick; ain’t you got lawyers to shoot or something?”
In some confusion, but unwilling to anger his boss, Cheney gathered his files and quickly left the room.
Piece quickly read the memo before tossing it into the shredder. As the light green paper was reduced to shreds, he began to chuckle at what would soon be unleashed upon the world. Heading over to his own, personalised, typewriter, William L. Pierce began to type.
Dear General-Secretary;
Following conversations with my underlings, I have good news to report regarding Operation Lazarus…
The Mancunian Candidate
Athens: Kingdom of Greece
Sir Richard Barnbrook, the former British Minister of Culture, walked down the smoggy streets of the Greek capital towards the vast docklands of Piraeus. With Constantinople still being rebuilt from the nuclear strike sustained during the last stages of the Civil War, the Greek capital had emerged to become the most important port in the Eastern Mediterranean. Greece had been the second country, after Italy, to throw off the yoke of her proletarian oppressors. Now, the bourgeoisie, along with the former Royal Family, had quickly returned to the land of the philosophers during the final stages of the Saffron Revolution.
King Constantine II of the Hellenes Restored, to give the King his official title had marked himself out as a fine monarch. Only 3½ thousand political prisoners had been executed since his return, which, to say that they had been vile communist stooges, was only right and proper. He sighed to himself as his passed the reeking stench of the fish markets. If only King Edward IX could have done the same to the pinkos and lefties that so dominated his homeland. Where was the British Haider? He thought sadly to himself as he sidestepped a trawler dumping its load of sturgeons onto the waterfront.
Shielding himself against the oppressive heat of the day, Barnbrook cast his eyes out to the vast pleasure cruiser that was bobbing in the azure waters of the Adriatic.
Placing his briefcase on the quayside, Barnbrook watched as the Pride of Manchester, the private yacht owned by the great industrialist Sir Nigel Short, discharged a motor launch from the stern of the elegant, Edwardian style vessel. A former Chess Grandmaster, Short had returned from a visit to America several years before with a new found head for business. This had developed to the stage where his sizable intellect and fiscal acumen had granted him a sizable fortune in the unregulated market reforms of Jeffery Archers first Government.
The Zuzwang, as the launch was dubbed, pulled up alongside the quay were the white clad steward mentioned the awaiting politician to climb aboard. Without waiting for a further response, Barnbrook stepped smartly onto the motor boat. Carving a perfect arc of white water across the harbour, the vessel returned back towards her mother ship, sending a handful of fishing boats scurrying for cover.
Barnbrook was greeted by the same man who, just two nights ago, had been meeting Dr. Hwang Woo-Suk on the Trans-Siberian Express. Dressed in a light summer suit, which did little to hide his strong physique, Vyacheslav Ivankov shook the hand of the man who was to rule Britain in the very near future.
Barnbrook winced as he felt his fingers crank under the strain of the vice-like grip but managed to hold his face still. Ivankov had a curious stance of controlled animalism; he gave the impression that he was, just barely, suppressing the urge to kill the person in front of him. Barnbrook was glad when the Ivanakov turned his back to the former Minister and led him through the plush upper quarters before heading down into the bowls of the bilge deck.
A steel door was unlocked by a faceless henchman that led into a dingy cabin holding a member of the British Secret Service. Barnbrook gave a brief glance at the emaciated figure of Donald Cameron, former MI6 Agent.
“You captured him as he entered the airport?” he asked turning towards Ivanakov and the psychologist heading the “thought reassignment” of the Oxbridge alumnus.
“Nyet!” Ivanakov replied harshly “We grabbed him as soon as he left the Powell House”. Cameron's capture had been the easy part. Smuggling him aboard the Pride of Manchester, eliminating the former owner (who had been unceremoniously dumped overboard near Dakar) and sailing through the Straights of Gibraltar without being searched had been far harder. Now, in the recesses of the great ship, Cameron was being “reprogrammed” as the greatest step in Andrei Chikatilo’s master-plan.
“Prey, do explain how this is all going to work again Vyachilli”
Growing with hatred at the demeaning pet name he was forced to tolerate, Ivanakov responded, gesticulating wildly at the map of the world pinned to the corner of the room.
“Well, as you already know Richard” Ivanakov stated with more calmness that he wanted “The most important power blocks in the world are the Anglosphere” he indicated the NAC and British Federation “as well as their allies, to writ, Canada, Nigeria, Australasia etc. Then, we have the German Fourth Reich and the various members of the European Customs Union”. He pointed out the grey mass of the NGR. “Finally, there is the growing power of India and, to a lesser extent, Muscovy”. He stood up from the map table and wandered over to a large board to which dozens of politicians had their photos pinned to.
“What the great Chikatilo has realised is how uneasy the peace that the current alliance system depends upon is.” He paused to collect himself. “Remember, the right shot in the right place can change the cause of history”
“Ah, just like the old poem” Barnbrook interjected. “For want of nail the Kingdom fell!”
“Indeed” Ivanakov responded “just imagine what history may have been like if Henry Wallace had never become President. Or if Stalin had died instead of Roosevelt”. Even ruthless, sadistic, master-criminals such as Ivanakov had wholly enjoyed “For All Eternity”, the utopian novel written by that West Coast academic during the summer.
“Anyway” he concluded “you need not concern yourself with the minutiae of the plan but there is no danger in giving you a brief overview. In December, three events will happen simultaneously throughout the world.” He indicated the two pictures, one of a young, smiling US Senator and the other of a well dressed, gaunt MP. “Firstly, the new American President-elect is hosting your Prime Minister, Hilary Benn, at the White House to discuss the establishment of a new Transatlantic Free Trade Zone”
“Secondly” this time indicating a ragtag group of humourless Europeans “The Heads of State of the European Customs Union are having their annual convention in Frankfurt. According my mole within the ECU, plans for a possible political union, dominated by Germany, are to be discussed”
“Finally” he motioned back towards the German border with the Eastern micro-states “If our agent in Berlin is able to set the date, Reichskanzler Haider is to declare war on the former Communist States in order to bring the east to heel”
“Our friend in Kamchatka” he said using Chikatilo’s code name “Feels that by disrupting the above events. He will be able to bring himself and his allies to a position of world domination”. He paused to allow Barnbrook’s overworked mind to catch up “How we bring about the latter two problems is not your concern, but the first will involve a member of the British Secret Service killing the President-elect, Prime Minister Benn being shot in return, and the North American Confederacy declaring war on the British Federation as a result”. Ivanakov smirked at Barnbrook’s expression of horror. “This will of course create a slight degree of military and political disruption in the Western Hemisphere”.
“It’ll be like the rapture!” Dr. James Randi called from the other end of the cabin. “Thank god I got that Scholarship in Psychology so that I could work for you guys!”
“I…I…don’t understand though Vyachilli” Barnbrook spluttered in shock “Where are you going to get someone to kill the President?”
Ivanakov nodded his head towards the slumbering body of Donald Cameron who had fallen to the cause after sixteen hours of psychological torture.
“When our little friend is shown the Grim Reaper from a pack of tarot cards” he said as he grabbed one from the table, “he will be forced to do what Dr. Randi has programmed him to!”
“Now; my dear Sir Richard, this is what I would like you to do…”
The End of History
Washington DC: North American Confederacy
It was a cold, crisp winter’s day as the sun cast its light over the Washington Memorial, illuminating the city with sunshine that matched the hopeful atmosphere that the free peoples of the world were expecting. The world’s press corps had arrived en mass to witness the first Anglo-American Summit which was being looked upon as a way of finally, finally, uniting the shattered globe under the banner of democracy. The lawn behind the White House was peppered with representatives from ANN, the BBC, and Rupert Murdoch’s media empire known as Pacific Ocean Broadcasting. The various journalists and news anchors had braved the cold for hours to be sure of getting the closest seats to the podium. The dais held two lecterns, one of which carried the Presidential Seal, which had “Elect” hurriedly scratched in front of the main ribbon of text. The other carried the Lion, Thistle, Harp and Daffodil motif of the British Federation. The stars-and-stripes and Union Flag waved limply in the slight breeze. The wind caused the associated media members to shiver, but no one dared to comment on the cold. The icy stare of CIA Director William Piece was far colder than the weather anyway.
Inside the Presidential Abode however, the climate was somewhat more heated as the two most powerful men inside clashed over matters of intellectual brilliance…
“This Benn guy then” President-elect Randolph Parker questioned his patron as the duo left the Oval Office “Where is he? Politically I mean?”
“Try and be more formal Randy” L. Neil Smith answered witheringly, “At least call him Prime Minister Benn if nothing else! Remember, he is perhaps the most powerful man in Europe after Haider”. Smith still harboured a grudge at the way in which his young charge had stolen his thunder and job at the RNC in the summer, still, that was something that hopefully would be solved in the next hour or so.
“For your information Randy, Benn is the Labour Prime Minister who it attempting to…”
“Labour! As in Communism? What the hell is Barr playing at!”
“For your information Parker, They share our values regarding civil liberties if nothing else. Besides, he can hardly be worse that Haider or Kulik can he. Now, we need to go!”
“Goddamnit!” The president-elect signed as he followed his former idol to the main lobby. Parker had to jog to catch up with the lame duck; he barely noticed the dinner suit be-clad British agent talking to CIA Director Pierce. Parker sniffed, if this Hilary dude wanted to be taken seriously then he could have chosen bodyguards who didn’t look like characters from a P.G. Wodehouse novel!
Twenty minutes later, Parker was standing beside Prime Minister Benn just prior to signing the Anglo-American Trade and Defence Agreement. The President-elect rolled his eyes as he waited for the limey to shut up at long last…
“Finally, I must pay tribute” Hilary Benn concluded “To the sterling work undertaken by President-elect Parker”, beside him, the former Colorado Senator smiled weakly. “For a man so young, he has given this great nation a voice and a sense of pride not seen since President Kennedy’s First Term”
As Sir Richard Barnbrook let the playing card drop in front of Donald Cameron he couldn’t help but think “Yeah, and we all know what happened to JPK, don’t we”.
Barnbrook was laughing so much that he failed to prevent Hilary Benn, whose peripheral vision was not a factor in Chikatilo’s calculations, from diving in front of the President-elect and casting himself into the history books.
Andrei Chikatilo’s Bunker: Directorate of Kamchatka
“All shall be well comrades!” Andrei Chikatilo pontificated to his allies on the command deck of the missile silo that was now serving as his command centre.
“With these three strokes, the motherland shall welcome us back with open arms!” he continued, unaware of the sniper scope that Stuart Leibowitz now had trained upon him, “And with our return, we shall recreate this vile sphere in our own image!”
Leibowitz had never handled a rifle before, and his hands were shaking so much as to render his aim of no consequence to anyone in the room. He had managed to sneak into an air-vent after the train had pulled into a concrete bunker somewhere a few miles from the coast. He was still not aware of the full scale of the plans, but he knew enough to know that Frankfurt was already crawling with enough anthrax spores to wipe out half of Germany. He closed his eyes in desperation; it wasn’t as if he could have stopped them…
“This is hopeless!” he cried to himself, too loudly as the various sociopaths below him looked up towards the annex in which he had concealed himself…
“Oy vay!”
“Well” he grimly thought as three dozen assault rifles were aimed at him, “That’s why I stood next to the old auto-destruct switch”
As the guns discharged along with a number of red sirens, Stuart Leibowitz smiled to himself at the thought that such controls had been dubbed Deus Ex’s by the geeks at Langley.
“They sure live up to their names!” he grinned as the earth blew up around him, taking himself into the welcoming plain of oblivion.
Epilogue: “Any Dream Will Do”
Queen Elizabeth II Arena: Federation of the British Isles
The crowds hurried to the newly reopened Wembley Arena before the Royal New Year's Eve Gala Performance started. Here and there, people caught glimpses of the various celebrities and noteworthies mingling in the foyer, but most were more focused on getting prime seating before the first act appeared on stage.
In the Royal Box, the new British Prime Minister sat, flanked by her flunkies and family. She smiled to herself grimly, “Poor old Hilary would have loved this” she thought sadly. Benn’s State Funeral was to occur early in the New Year, and he had already be granted numerous honours alongside the diplomat fellow who had blown up Chikatilo and his cartel in Kamchatka. President-elect Parker had sent a nice enough wreath and at least the Anglo-American Treaty was still going to be signed. "Finally!" she could say that the world was going to be able to pick up the pieces left by the last fifty years.
The Right Hon. Cherie Booth KC looked around the VIP Section with a genuine grin; most of the media exiles from Redwood’s time had returned and we sitting next to the various European Heads of State. Whilst she was hardly pleased to have heard of the various deaths at Berlin earlier that month, there was little doubt in her mind that people like Fischer and Kiriyenko would be a damn sight better than Haider and Kulik. Of the latter two, the former had been died horribly in Frankfurt from anthrax spores and the other had been quickly deposed by a cadre of Generals after they found evidence linking him to Chikatilo.
Thoughts of dominating Europe quickly subsided when the arena lights dimmed and Joe Springsteen took to the stage as drum beats and guitar rifts began;
“Henry Wallace, Curtis LeMay, Fascist France, Lost D-Day
Edger Hoover, Wendell Willkie, Charles Luciano
Robert Taft, Charles McNary, Diefenbaker, Lesley McNair
North Japan, South Japan, Galaezzo Ciano
Edger Hoover, Wendell Willkie, Charles Luciano
Robert Taft, Charles McNary, Diefenbaker, Lesley McNair
North Japan, South Japan, Galaezzo Ciano
Alger Hiss, Berlin goes boom, Hitler dead, Rico’s doomed
Pasha, Gerald Nye, and "The Lynching’s in the Rye"
Blair House, vaccine, England’s got a new queen
Westphalia, Iran, Stalin’s last goodbye
Pasha, Gerald Nye, and "The Lynching’s in the Rye"
Blair House, vaccine, England’s got a new queen
Westphalia, Iran, Stalin’s last goodbye
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
Beria, Kaganovich, Belgrade and Luis Turac
Jerusalem League, Churchill’s ticker, Communist Bloc
Chiang Kai-Shek, Pierre Darlan, Guy Burgess, Gehlen
Lazar nukes up Tito and Markos
Jerusalem League, Churchill’s ticker, Communist Bloc
Chiang Kai-Shek, Pierre Darlan, Guy Burgess, Gehlen
Lazar nukes up Tito and Markos
Robert Menzies, James Dean, Pittsburgh’s got a winning team
Richard Wright, Nye Bevan, Pat Boone, Raoul Salan
Nordic Council, Amsterdam, Virginia, Maurice Challe
Johnny Cash, Hugo Black, trouble with the Hukabalahap
Richard Wright, Nye Bevan, Pat Boone, Raoul Salan
Nordic Council, Amsterdam, Virginia, Maurice Challe
Johnny Cash, Hugo Black, trouble with the Hukabalahap
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
Mao Zedong, Delgado, “The Demolished Man”, Curacao
Eagle-1, Nordic Union with the Thais, Johnny Cash’s “Walk the Line"
Martial Law, Nuclear Plants, New Yorker Yiddish Rants
Klu Klux Klan, genocide, Pearson runs out of time
Eagle-1, Nordic Union with the Thais, Johnny Cash’s “Walk the Line"
Martial Law, Nuclear Plants, New Yorker Yiddish Rants
Klu Klux Klan, genocide, Pearson runs out of time
Pope Francis, Robert X, Frank G. Powers in the Rex
JPK, blown away, what else do I have to say
JPK, blown away, what else do I have to say
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
Michael Collins, Lin Biao, Enoch Powell, "Not One Inch More"
Khartoum, Dactyl, Jim Brown’s winning score
War in Arabia, “Republican Mania”
Idi Amin, Clarke Gable, Goldwater beats Johnson
Khartoum, Dactyl, Jim Brown’s winning score
War in Arabia, “Republican Mania”
Idi Amin, Clarke Gable, Goldwater beats Johnson
FHMA, Stonewall Bar, German Union, California,
Batista, Spaghetti-O’s, Chrysler is a no-go
Jewish Risings, “Sugar Ray”, Rock Hudson and Chile
Dr. Guevara, Marlon Brando, Belgians in the Congo
Batista, Spaghetti-O’s, Chrysler is a no-go
Jewish Risings, “Sugar Ray”, Rock Hudson and Chile
Dr. Guevara, Marlon Brando, Belgians in the Congo
We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it
Managua, Ne Win, Mexican Revolution again
Death Rock, Nuke-stock, Suslov, Non-aligned Bloc
Joe Foss, Lanotte, Anglo-Welsh Fear, Dornan blows up Korea
Bokassa starts afresh, gets a taste for human flesh
Death Rock, Nuke-stock, Suslov, Non-aligned Bloc
Joe Foss, Lanotte, Anglo-Welsh Fear, Dornan blows up Korea
Bokassa starts afresh, gets a taste for human flesh
Belgium goes Red, St. Louis Raid, Spanish Wars, CSA
Philli blew, Sh’dan Flu, SPID, crack, Jimmy Jones
Chikatilo kills more than all before, China's nucked up really raw
All the Commie Civil Wars, I can't take it anymore
Philli blew, Sh’dan Flu, SPID, crack, Jimmy Jones
Chikatilo kills more than all before, China's nucked up really raw
All the Commie Civil Wars, I can't take it anymore
We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone
Will it still burn on, and on, and on, and on...”
But when we are gone
Will it still burn on, and on, and on, and on...”