Our Fair Country: The Commonwealth of New England
- Thread starter CosmicAsh
- Start date
- Status
Nazi Space Spy
Banned
I’m basking in the fact that even in a smaller, more WASPY country, Jeb!’s career is still a failure.
This time it can safely be assumed that its not his fault I think though. Now he's just dragged down by Neil.
@Kanan there's support for abolishing first past the post??? This universe just gets better and better and better!!!
Random observations/questions:
Was the "fighting between Serbia and Croatia" caused by the Serbian PM's assassination a while back? How bad are things in the Balkans?
Does the UK dropping sanctions on Burma and a "peace treaty" mean the War in Burma is finally over? If so, will Canada and Nigeria consider rejoining the Commonwealth?
Is the "communist-led" government in East Prussia a majority government or is it in a coalition? What is is the relationship of that party with the USSR?
What is the reasoning behind the USSR's moratorium on censorship? Is it in response to protests or something, or is Symonenko trying glasnost? How have the Soviets been going in general since the election?
I'm assuming the United Nations Council of Powers is like the UN Security Council? Given that there was no WWII, when did the UN come about and who are its permanent members?
South Africa is being as nightmarish as usual.
How bad are things in Ireland?
Sorry for the barrage of questions, there are lots of hints being dropped around the place and I WANT TO KNOW MORE! This is such a well constructed world that these little hints add all the difference. Amazing work, as usual!
**cough** Israel **cough** Ireland **cough** Burma **cough**
Good thing there are all these extra national health services to deal with all these coughs! 
Among the general voters of Long Island, yeah. But that's because Long Island's party system is super screwed up.
There was a peace treaty with the Burmene opposition earlier, it was in an article. Only now is the Royal Army finally suspending the combat operations. Canada has already rejoined the Commonwealth. Nigeria has no interest in rejoining.
It is a coalition government. The KPP (Communist Party of Prussia, which is affiliated with the KPD) is not even the plurality party. The DDP (German People's Party) formed the plurality in the West Prussian Provincial Legislature, and the DDP controls the overall Prussian legislature. The KPP is in a coalition with the Grünen/Regenbogen-Allianz (Green/Rainbow Alliance) as well as the Prussian Worker's Union (Moderate socialist party affiliated with the national Social Democrats).
President Symonenko has announced the policy of "Soyuz 21," which is the plan to bring the Soviet economy and society into the 21st Century. He has promised an opening of fully democratic elections for local soviets (e.g. multi-party elections permissible for city councils), the legalisation of small-scale private businesses (think shops and places that employ 1-4 people), dropping all lingering Russification policies, and restructuring the Soviet government to reduce the number of ministries (Upon his taking power, the Soviet Government had 119 separate ministries and around 135 ministers or chairmen acting in some fashion over large swaths of the Soviet Economy. Symonenko has brought it down to 85 in his 10 months in office). The Soviet economy has attracted oodles of money from the United States and Western Europe, and "Special Districts" have been opened in Leningrad, Volgagrad, Sevastopol, Minsk, Kiev, Rostov-on-Don, Smolensk, and Saratov which allow foreign companies to operate and extract profit from the country. Symonenko has thus far failed in trying to open Moscow to this sort of development.
The United Nations Council of Powers was once called the United Nations Council of Great Powers. The United Nations was formed when the League of Nations proved to be so miserable at providing stability in Germany. The United States, eager to begin expanding its power abroad, joined in this time. The United Nations Council of Powers is the permanent body that has veto power over the resolutions passed by the General Assembly. The Council of Powers is unchanging and membership is the Soviet Union, Germany, Italy, France, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Brazil. Brazil was the first one to be added since the 1950s.
Very radiant!
The usual. Car bombs go off every week or so. Couple dead here and there. Dreadful stuff.
Thank you!! It's fine, it's why I do it all haha!
What was that poll regarding royal popularity taken from? Samples across the whole Commonwealth? I can't, for example, imagine that only 11% of people inside the United Kingdom proper want to rid themselves of the monarchy after Queen Elizabeth II dies, so I'm assuming that some countries have more republican sentiments than others among their populations.
These Fair Shores Ch. I
AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...
Hey guys! So here it is, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long-running serialized set of stories within the OFC universe entitled These Fair Shores. The series will cover the stories of a bunch of different characters in different parts of New England. Hopefully you enjoy!
Marianne Josephine Walker smiled at the customs agent like any normal U.S. citizen would, but on the inside she wanted to scream her lungs out. She had never been prone to fear before, but then again, she had never done something like this before. She knew she had screwed up in London, and she knew they had seen her face in Havana. What she didn’t know was whether the crew of the passenger ship had recognized her, or the inspection agents at the docks in Miami, or the car rental agency in Fort Lauderdale, or the waitress in Hamilton, D.C. who had given her a second look; Marianne never got second looks. The paranoia of not knowing who knew what inspired a new type of madness inside of her, a madness which she was entirely unused to. Out of this madness, she had abruptly changed plans and avoided the Tri-City Area border crossing into Brooklyn, discarding the E-Z Pass under a trash can in Philadelphia and picking up a fake U.S. passport from a contact in Newark. Now, this madness was making her sloppy, and she could feel it from the way it took her a second to register what the New England border guard had said.
“I’m spending the week with relatives in Providence,” she answered. Although she saw the man in the blue New England Border Services uniform enter something into the computer system, her mind was focused on her car, the rented Ford that this New Englander might ask to search at any moment. Don’t worry, Marianne, just stay focused. Don’t let your mind wander.
“And where will you be heading after that?” the agent asked.
This time, Marianne was too ready. “I’llbeheadinghometoEastTennessee,” she said, resisting the urge to cringe at her own failure to talk like a goddamn human being! Come on, keep it together, Marianne!
“Are you carrying any firearms or weapons which may be restricted or require a license?”
“No.” The first truth Marianne told the officer - taking such weapons on the flight to Havana would have been far too risky.
“Any fruit or other perishable goods which we should know about?”
“No.” Also true. She would have chuckled inwardly at how saintly she was being if she wasn’t so terrified.
The New Englander checked the passport again and frowned at it slightly. Marianne felt her heart drop.
Then the officer handed it back to her and said, “Ok, Miss Anderson, I’m going to ask you to please wait in your car on the side over there. An officer will come by to tell you when to leave.”
Marianne took the fictitious Marcy Anderson’s passport back with a polite “Thank you, have a nice day,” and tried not to floor it out of the gate.
In the side lot, Marianne watched out of the corner of her eye as a different customs agent “inconspicuously” inspected her car from a distance. Her hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, her fingers white as chalk.
The walkie-talkie in the cupholder crackled to life. “Hey, want to hear a funny joke?” a male voice said. “What-”
Marianne quickly turned the dial to the off position and avoided making eye contact with the New Englander walking towards her. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid, she thought as the customs agent, this one a female, approached the open window.
She turned to face the agent with a polite smile plastered on her face, her heart racing a thousand beats per second. She didn’t know if she was going to be asked to comply with a search or just going to be refused entry right then and there. Either way, she was sure she would not be entering the Commonwealth of New England today.
For a second, Marianne wondered what would happen if the customs agent did stop her. Worst case scenario was that she got refused entry, went back to Port Chester, got a new passport, maybe a facial makeover, and tried the border up near Albany in a few days, right?
No, the worst case scenario was that they marched her across the bridge to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection building, where she would be handcuffed, detained, and shut up in a prison for the rest of her life.
Unless she confessed right here. Broke down, started crying, explained how she was the victim of this plot. It might actually free her. Suddenly, the thought sounded appealing, and she smiled even wider.
The customs agent said, “You’re good to go.”
What?
No!
Not now that she had made her peace!
Marianne wanted to scream in her face, to tell her everything, to sob into her arms.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she replied, “Thank you, ma’am,” and pulled out onto NH-211, whereupon she drove ten kilometers above the speed limit all the way to New Haven.
It was only when she was approaching the New Haven Hotel that she saw the Valet service. “Hell no,” she muttered, and quickly flicked on her turn signal and parked in the hospital parking complex, right across the street. Then she stepped out, walked around to the trunk, checked to make sure that nobody else was around, and opened it. “No, I don’t want to hear a funny joke!” she screamed in her normal accent.
The man in the trunk grinned wolfishly at her. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you not like my sense of humor?”
“You could have ruined everything! You fucking dumbass, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life, you could have sent me to jail for the rest of my life! How’s that for a fucking joke?!”
“Hey, you’re the one who abandoned the original plan,” he said, climbing out of the trunk and laying the blanket he had been wrapped in over Marianne’s shoulder. “If we had just used the E-Z Pass, we wouldn’t have even needed to stop. But noooooo, you were so paranoid about how ‘that’s the obvious choice’ and ‘they’re probably on to us’ and all that other crap that’s so cliche it’s hilarious, especially coming from you. And whose fault is it that you got spotted in Havana?”
“At least I try to cover my mistakes! You think I wasn’t going to hear about Leningrad?” Marianne replied. “It’s like I’m babysitting a two-year-old, for fu-”
The man slapped her across the face, hard. For a moment, his face was the face of a killer. Then he smiled. “Jokes I can take,” he said, “but insults…” he wagged a finger, “those are too far. Don’t make me do that again.” He patted her cheek, exactly where his hand had left a red mark. Then he walked off towards the hotel. “And be careful with my bag,” he called back to Marianne.
The TV in the hotel room had all the things a normal hotel room TV had, including its own channel that did nothing but play music and display the hotel logo, as if trying to attract people to continue staying at the hotel which they were already staying at. The man flicked through the channels, passing by a few American shows, a Boston Bulldogs game, and some channels in French, before finally finding NECN, still airing recaps from the election four days earlier. “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about the so-called ‘irregularities’ in Long Island,” someone was saying.
“God, I hate that accent.” the man said. He turned the volume down. “Ah, that’s better,” he sighed in mock relief, and headed towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he told Marianne. “Want to join me?” he added, with a devilish grin.
Marianne snorted. “Pass,” she said, with as much disgust as she could muster.
The man shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Hey, you want some apizza for dinner? Frank Pepe’s isn’t far from here.” The bathroom door closed.
Sitting on the single queen-sized bed, Marianne grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in an act of subtle defiance. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
Instead she just sat shaking for half an hour.
Hey guys! So here it is, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long-running serialized set of stories within the OFC universe entitled These Fair Shores. The series will cover the stories of a bunch of different characters in different parts of New England. Hopefully you enjoy!
These Fair Shores
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
20/09/18
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
20/09/18
Marianne Josephine Walker smiled at the customs agent like any normal U.S. citizen would, but on the inside she wanted to scream her lungs out. She had never been prone to fear before, but then again, she had never done something like this before. She knew she had screwed up in London, and she knew they had seen her face in Havana. What she didn’t know was whether the crew of the passenger ship had recognized her, or the inspection agents at the docks in Miami, or the car rental agency in Fort Lauderdale, or the waitress in Hamilton, D.C. who had given her a second look; Marianne never got second looks. The paranoia of not knowing who knew what inspired a new type of madness inside of her, a madness which she was entirely unused to. Out of this madness, she had abruptly changed plans and avoided the Tri-City Area border crossing into Brooklyn, discarding the E-Z Pass under a trash can in Philadelphia and picking up a fake U.S. passport from a contact in Newark. Now, this madness was making her sloppy, and she could feel it from the way it took her a second to register what the New England border guard had said.
“I’m spending the week with relatives in Providence,” she answered. Although she saw the man in the blue New England Border Services uniform enter something into the computer system, her mind was focused on her car, the rented Ford that this New Englander might ask to search at any moment. Don’t worry, Marianne, just stay focused. Don’t let your mind wander.
“And where will you be heading after that?” the agent asked.
This time, Marianne was too ready. “I’llbeheadinghometoEastTennessee,” she said, resisting the urge to cringe at her own failure to talk like a goddamn human being! Come on, keep it together, Marianne!
“Are you carrying any firearms or weapons which may be restricted or require a license?”
“No.” The first truth Marianne told the officer - taking such weapons on the flight to Havana would have been far too risky.
“Any fruit or other perishable goods which we should know about?”
“No.” Also true. She would have chuckled inwardly at how saintly she was being if she wasn’t so terrified.
The New Englander checked the passport again and frowned at it slightly. Marianne felt her heart drop.
Then the officer handed it back to her and said, “Ok, Miss Anderson, I’m going to ask you to please wait in your car on the side over there. An officer will come by to tell you when to leave.”
Marianne took the fictitious Marcy Anderson’s passport back with a polite “Thank you, have a nice day,” and tried not to floor it out of the gate.
In the side lot, Marianne watched out of the corner of her eye as a different customs agent “inconspicuously” inspected her car from a distance. Her hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, her fingers white as chalk.
The walkie-talkie in the cupholder crackled to life. “Hey, want to hear a funny joke?” a male voice said. “What-”
Marianne quickly turned the dial to the off position and avoided making eye contact with the New Englander walking towards her. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid, she thought as the customs agent, this one a female, approached the open window.
She turned to face the agent with a polite smile plastered on her face, her heart racing a thousand beats per second. She didn’t know if she was going to be asked to comply with a search or just going to be refused entry right then and there. Either way, she was sure she would not be entering the Commonwealth of New England today.
For a second, Marianne wondered what would happen if the customs agent did stop her. Worst case scenario was that she got refused entry, went back to Port Chester, got a new passport, maybe a facial makeover, and tried the border up near Albany in a few days, right?
No, the worst case scenario was that they marched her across the bridge to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection building, where she would be handcuffed, detained, and shut up in a prison for the rest of her life.
Unless she confessed right here. Broke down, started crying, explained how she was the victim of this plot. It might actually free her. Suddenly, the thought sounded appealing, and she smiled even wider.
The customs agent said, “You’re good to go.”
What?
No!
Not now that she had made her peace!
Marianne wanted to scream in her face, to tell her everything, to sob into her arms.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she replied, “Thank you, ma’am,” and pulled out onto NH-211, whereupon she drove ten kilometers above the speed limit all the way to New Haven.
It was only when she was approaching the New Haven Hotel that she saw the Valet service. “Hell no,” she muttered, and quickly flicked on her turn signal and parked in the hospital parking complex, right across the street. Then she stepped out, walked around to the trunk, checked to make sure that nobody else was around, and opened it. “No, I don’t want to hear a funny joke!” she screamed in her normal accent.
The man in the trunk grinned wolfishly at her. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you not like my sense of humor?”
“You could have ruined everything! You fucking dumbass, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life, you could have sent me to jail for the rest of my life! How’s that for a fucking joke?!”
“Hey, you’re the one who abandoned the original plan,” he said, climbing out of the trunk and laying the blanket he had been wrapped in over Marianne’s shoulder. “If we had just used the E-Z Pass, we wouldn’t have even needed to stop. But noooooo, you were so paranoid about how ‘that’s the obvious choice’ and ‘they’re probably on to us’ and all that other crap that’s so cliche it’s hilarious, especially coming from you. And whose fault is it that you got spotted in Havana?”
“At least I try to cover my mistakes! You think I wasn’t going to hear about Leningrad?” Marianne replied. “It’s like I’m babysitting a two-year-old, for fu-”
The man slapped her across the face, hard. For a moment, his face was the face of a killer. Then he smiled. “Jokes I can take,” he said, “but insults…” he wagged a finger, “those are too far. Don’t make me do that again.” He patted her cheek, exactly where his hand had left a red mark. Then he walked off towards the hotel. “And be careful with my bag,” he called back to Marianne.
The TV in the hotel room had all the things a normal hotel room TV had, including its own channel that did nothing but play music and display the hotel logo, as if trying to attract people to continue staying at the hotel which they were already staying at. The man flicked through the channels, passing by a few American shows, a Boston Bulldogs game, and some channels in French, before finally finding NECN, still airing recaps from the election four days earlier. “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about the so-called ‘irregularities’ in Long Island,” someone was saying.
“God, I hate that accent.” the man said. He turned the volume down. “Ah, that’s better,” he sighed in mock relief, and headed towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he told Marianne. “Want to join me?” he added, with a devilish grin.
Marianne snorted. “Pass,” she said, with as much disgust as she could muster.
The man shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Hey, you want some apizza for dinner? Frank Pepe’s isn’t far from here.” The bathroom door closed.
Sitting on the single queen-sized bed, Marianne grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in an act of subtle defiance. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
Instead she just sat shaking for half an hour.
- Status