Well, the good news is, very few people do think you know what you're doing....
John Lennon, punk rocker.
Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread III
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
So where is Jeff Lynne now ITTL?
He was more influential as a producer than as the lead singer of the Electric Light Orchestra.
At this point IOTL, Disco is very dominate on the Top 40 charts, and the music is overproduced, with vapid lyrics sung by mostly anonymous back-up singers that basically have no personalities.
Punk Rock on the other hand is stripped down raw power music with incoherent lyrics sung by Angry Young Men raging against the world.
It is not a coincidence that both types of genres became prominent at the same time.
I wonder if Saturday Night Feaver (1977) is going to be made ITTL?
Punk Rock on the other hand is stripped down raw power music with incoherent lyrics sung by Angry Young Men raging against the world.
It is not a coincidence that both types of genres became prominent at the same time.
I wonder if Saturday Night Feaver (1977) is going to be made ITTL?
Part 141, Chapter 2451
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Fifty-One
5th April 1976
Montreal, Canada
“Would this look good?” Henriette asked holding up a blouse that was comprised a of garish combination of mustard yellow, brown, and red stripes.
“No” Marie Alexandra replied, wondering if Henriette was pulling her leg.
It was the proximity of the United States if Marie had to guess, particularly New York. She saw it on television. How that country had become a font of bad taste and questionable fashion trends, particularly ugly colors or a million shades of beige. This was not her echoing her mother’s dislike of Americans in general.
“Says the girl who could wear a potato sack, and have it look good” Henriette said.
“It is because I don’t ever wear what makes me look bad” Marie replied, “I would need to find the right potato sack before I wore it.”
Henriette gave Marie a look that basically said “Bullshit.” It had taken her a long time to lose the weight that she had gained when she was pregnant with Alice. Even then she had discovered that her body wasn’t the same. The other detail that Henriette didn’t know was that Marie had spent years learning to alter clothes at the side of Aunt Marcella. Frequently, a little time with a needle and thread made a huge difference if you knew what you were doing. Marie had learned that few people were interested in hearing about that, seeming to prefer wearing clothes that fit them terribly.
Leaving the clothiers after making their purchases, Marie looked at the coffee shop they walked past longingly. She was counting down the days until the 18th of April. Why did Easter have to be later than usual this year? It was torture and Marie frequently found herself getting anxious and jittery in the way that she frequently had in the years before she had discovered that coffee of all things helped. The feelings of paranoia were getting worse, something that wasn’t helped by the knowledge that she was in fact often being followed by people from the RCMP’s Special Branch, or worse, the American CIA.
“I won’t tell anyone if you want to cheat” Henriette said with a sly grin.
“It isn’t that simple” Marie said without elaboration. She doubted Henriette would understand the need for Marie to keep to her role while she was in Montreal. While there was no way that Henriette would hardly see it that way, she was lucky to be liberated from the influence of Marie’s grandmother. She needed to see it through because Margot Blackwood would like nothing better than to catch her out of bounds and the last thing Marie needed at this time was her grandmother to gain any leverage on her.
They were saved from that topic of conversation by who Marie spotted walking the other way up the street. Mister Louis, a retired boxer who Marie had seen occasionally passing out leaflets on street corners in this neighborhood. Mostly they were on topics of Civil Rights and Social Justice. Sure, there were always those around who took exception to that, but even now Louis remained a physically imposing man. The man he was walking with hardly needed an introduction either, Max Schmeling. Marie remembered him as a spokesman for Coca-Cola and the Pioneer Corps back in Germany.
“If it isn’t the little girl who tried to speak to me in Swahili” Louis said with a smile.
“You are never going to let me live that down are you?” Marie asked in reply.
“Nope” Louis said, he was always going to find that amusing.
When they had met again years later, Louis had mentioned that incident. That was right before Marie had mentioned in conversation that while Africans were not discriminated against in Berlin like they were in the Americas, Poles and Jews were instead. Marie had realized just how naïve her comment had been later when she had replayed it in her mind.
“Prinzessin” Schmeling said nervously, “I am surprised to see you here.”
“Do you two know each other?” Louis asked.
“Only by reputation” Schmeling replied, “Your involvement with the Jacobins when you were little girl. Everyone saw how you bit a chunk off that man’s hand. Only a real fighter could do something like that.”
Marie knew that was high praise from someone like Schmeling. Too bad she had failed to live up to that in the years since.
“Did his just call you Princess?” Henriette asked.
“My mother is the Prefect of Berlin” Marie said, “It’s only a technicality.”
“Technicality?” Henriette asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Why are you in Montreal?” Marie asked Schmeling, not wanting to discuss things like Courtly ranks with Henriette. She figured that her friend would bring that up later though.
“Meetings ahead of this summer” Schmeling replied, “I am coaching the National Boxing team and there is always a pissing mat… Er… Argument over events like this, the selection of the venues and such.”
“Sounds familiar” Marie replied, “Talk to Suga about that sort of thing when she gets here. I can guarantee you that any pissing match, to use your term, you care to mention has got nothing on the Court of the Empress.”
Louis and Henriette were a bit perplexed by what Marie was talking about. The Imperial Court of Germany had no equivalent on this side of the Atlantic. Schmeling would probably only be on the edge of it and had probably been a guest of Michael of Bohemia on a few occasions. He was the sort who the Emperor’s younger brother liked to surround himself with.
5th April 1976
Montreal, Canada
“Would this look good?” Henriette asked holding up a blouse that was comprised a of garish combination of mustard yellow, brown, and red stripes.
“No” Marie Alexandra replied, wondering if Henriette was pulling her leg.
It was the proximity of the United States if Marie had to guess, particularly New York. She saw it on television. How that country had become a font of bad taste and questionable fashion trends, particularly ugly colors or a million shades of beige. This was not her echoing her mother’s dislike of Americans in general.
“Says the girl who could wear a potato sack, and have it look good” Henriette said.
“It is because I don’t ever wear what makes me look bad” Marie replied, “I would need to find the right potato sack before I wore it.”
Henriette gave Marie a look that basically said “Bullshit.” It had taken her a long time to lose the weight that she had gained when she was pregnant with Alice. Even then she had discovered that her body wasn’t the same. The other detail that Henriette didn’t know was that Marie had spent years learning to alter clothes at the side of Aunt Marcella. Frequently, a little time with a needle and thread made a huge difference if you knew what you were doing. Marie had learned that few people were interested in hearing about that, seeming to prefer wearing clothes that fit them terribly.
Leaving the clothiers after making their purchases, Marie looked at the coffee shop they walked past longingly. She was counting down the days until the 18th of April. Why did Easter have to be later than usual this year? It was torture and Marie frequently found herself getting anxious and jittery in the way that she frequently had in the years before she had discovered that coffee of all things helped. The feelings of paranoia were getting worse, something that wasn’t helped by the knowledge that she was in fact often being followed by people from the RCMP’s Special Branch, or worse, the American CIA.
“I won’t tell anyone if you want to cheat” Henriette said with a sly grin.
“It isn’t that simple” Marie said without elaboration. She doubted Henriette would understand the need for Marie to keep to her role while she was in Montreal. While there was no way that Henriette would hardly see it that way, she was lucky to be liberated from the influence of Marie’s grandmother. She needed to see it through because Margot Blackwood would like nothing better than to catch her out of bounds and the last thing Marie needed at this time was her grandmother to gain any leverage on her.
They were saved from that topic of conversation by who Marie spotted walking the other way up the street. Mister Louis, a retired boxer who Marie had seen occasionally passing out leaflets on street corners in this neighborhood. Mostly they were on topics of Civil Rights and Social Justice. Sure, there were always those around who took exception to that, but even now Louis remained a physically imposing man. The man he was walking with hardly needed an introduction either, Max Schmeling. Marie remembered him as a spokesman for Coca-Cola and the Pioneer Corps back in Germany.
“If it isn’t the little girl who tried to speak to me in Swahili” Louis said with a smile.
“You are never going to let me live that down are you?” Marie asked in reply.
“Nope” Louis said, he was always going to find that amusing.
When they had met again years later, Louis had mentioned that incident. That was right before Marie had mentioned in conversation that while Africans were not discriminated against in Berlin like they were in the Americas, Poles and Jews were instead. Marie had realized just how naïve her comment had been later when she had replayed it in her mind.
“Prinzessin” Schmeling said nervously, “I am surprised to see you here.”
“Do you two know each other?” Louis asked.
“Only by reputation” Schmeling replied, “Your involvement with the Jacobins when you were little girl. Everyone saw how you bit a chunk off that man’s hand. Only a real fighter could do something like that.”
Marie knew that was high praise from someone like Schmeling. Too bad she had failed to live up to that in the years since.
“Did his just call you Princess?” Henriette asked.
“My mother is the Prefect of Berlin” Marie said, “It’s only a technicality.”
“Technicality?” Henriette asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Why are you in Montreal?” Marie asked Schmeling, not wanting to discuss things like Courtly ranks with Henriette. She figured that her friend would bring that up later though.
“Meetings ahead of this summer” Schmeling replied, “I am coaching the National Boxing team and there is always a pissing mat… Er… Argument over events like this, the selection of the venues and such.”
“Sounds familiar” Marie replied, “Talk to Suga about that sort of thing when she gets here. I can guarantee you that any pissing match, to use your term, you care to mention has got nothing on the Court of the Empress.”
Louis and Henriette were a bit perplexed by what Marie was talking about. The Imperial Court of Germany had no equivalent on this side of the Atlantic. Schmeling would probably only be on the edge of it and had probably been a guest of Michael of Bohemia on a few occasions. He was the sort who the Emperor’s younger brother liked to surround himself with.
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And this is why Marie will find herself playing some role this summer for the Olympics because she knows how to maneuver through the the diplomacy and protocols that is going to be needed.
Without the United States being involved ITTL WW II, Joe Louis shouldn't get in the tax problems he had for doing the charity bouts he did.
Joe Louis should have paid the tax for income from the bouts and then donated what was leftover.
Without the United States being involved ITTL WW II, Joe Louis shouldn't get in the tax problems he had for doing the charity bouts he did.
Joe Louis should have paid the tax for income from the bouts and then donated what was leftover.
Oh God, the 70s flashbacks. Please tell me the paisley fad died an early death in the 60s.
Marie's PTSD is showing again. She needs therapy again and soon. Marie is so much a coffee addict as she is self medicating with caffeine.
Marie and her family might think her title of "Prinzessin" is a technicality, but no-one else in the German Empire, or the British & Russian Empires for that matter, think that.
I don't think US involvement in TTL WW2 would have mattered all that much for how Joe Lewis would have been treated in the US. A Black athlete beating White athletes would still have bred resentment, probably more so ITTL as there was no "Nazi Superman" irritating US sensibilities. Someone, somewhere, would have decided that he needed to be brought down a peg or two, on account of him getting 'too uppity' and encouraging other black people in the US to get ideas above their station. His presence on Canada could be because of that 'trouble'.
You spelled his name as Lewis in your post. I was confused too.
Part 142, Chapter 2452
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Fifty-Two
8th April 1976
Mitte, Berlin
Zella didn’t go back to her apartment for long. Again this was due to her parent’s intervention. They had basically moved Jena when her mother had retired and the townhouse they owned had basically sat empty for the last few years. There was something poetic about Irina having Zella’s old bedroom in the house that she had grown up in. Zella could do whatever she pleased with the rest of the house. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Zella that her brother Walter took exception to this.
For a long time, Walter had made no secret of how he thought that Zella was the black sheep of the family. Now what was happening was something that he regarded had her being rewarded for failure. It came as something of a surprise for Zella when her parents came to her defense this time. Since when had Walter shown any interest in Berlin? He had hardly been back after he had begun University in Jena. Even now, Walter was working his way up through the Legal system in Thuringia with aspirations of becoming a Judge. He had absolutely no use for the house in Berlin. Besides, ownership wasn’t going to change, Zella was just going to live there until she figured out something else.
“It is like when you were children” Zella’s mother had said to Zella, “Whenever you got anything, your brother had to have it even if it was something he hated.”
That was as close to criticism as Zella had ever heard her mother level at her brother. While Maria Acker frequently spoke to her children about what they were doing and wasn’t shy about giving her opinions, she almost never mentioned those opinions to anyone else.
While Zella had known that her one and a half room apartment in Charlottenburg was completely impractical, the house in Mitte was huge in comparison. It had been the city residence of Zella’s father, a Generalfeldmarschall and Markgraf even if how he had gone about that was comparatively modest. The workshop in the basement was still there even if the priceless collection of motorcycles had been moved elsewhere. The rooms of the ground floor felt empty to Zella without her parent’s keepsakes from around the World. The furniture was covered, and the rugs were full of dust. She had no idea where to begin with making it livable or what to do with so much space. Of course, she already knew which room would be her new studio, Walter’s bedroom.
“So, this is the place?” Yuliya asked as she followed Yuri in through the front door carrying a box that was from Zella’s apartment. She, along with Yuri’s two younger half-sisters, Svetlana, and Veronika, were helping Zella move. If her idea of helping was exploring the house. Not that she could be too sore with the two girls. They loved the idea of being Aunties of Irina and hearing them laughing upstairs made the house feel far less like a mausoleum.
Off the Island of Rhodes, Eastern Mediterranean
The Medical Service had taken blood samples from every member of the crew while they had been anchored in Constantinople under orders by the High Command in Wunsdorf-Zossen. The fact that the OKW had decided to get involved had done nothing to quell the rumors that were flying around among the crews of the ships under Louis Ferdinand Junior’s command. They had all seen what had happened to Oberbootsmann Martin so those rumors were grounded in hard reality. According to newly arrived personnel from Kiel, Wilhelmshaven, and Danzig it wasn’t just the Navy, the Heer and Luftwaffe were also doing the same things. The consensus was that there was an insidious new type of clap out there that killed you slowly.
When Louis had spoken with his sister, Kiki had said that there were others in the Medical Service whose specialty was basically Detective Work, and they were in the process of trying to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. There had been guidance from Koblenz that had gone to the Ships’ Doctors and Corpsmen on the best practices regarding bloodborne pathogens. For Louis that was not good news because of the implication that this thing might still be lurking among the crew. Borchardt had said that this was like any other crisis, the Captain, meaning Louis, needed to lead them through it regardless.
Despite all of this, they still had a job to do. Just a few kilometers away, the war that they were monitoring was raging merrily along with accusations of war crimes being committed by both sides. As far as Louis was concerned the world might be a better place if the respective Governments of Greece and Turkey just happened to fall off the edge of it.
The Intelligence Section aboard the Ozelot specialized in Signal Intelligence, which was key in monitoring the conflict. The other ships of the small flotilla were in in close escort in case someone decided to do something extremely stupid. Louis had also been warned that there would likely be individuals ashore who would take exception to their mere presence as well as those who might try to do something clever to try to bring them into the war against the other side. As if this whole situation wasn’t already complicated enough.
8th April 1976
Mitte, Berlin
Zella didn’t go back to her apartment for long. Again this was due to her parent’s intervention. They had basically moved Jena when her mother had retired and the townhouse they owned had basically sat empty for the last few years. There was something poetic about Irina having Zella’s old bedroom in the house that she had grown up in. Zella could do whatever she pleased with the rest of the house. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Zella that her brother Walter took exception to this.
For a long time, Walter had made no secret of how he thought that Zella was the black sheep of the family. Now what was happening was something that he regarded had her being rewarded for failure. It came as something of a surprise for Zella when her parents came to her defense this time. Since when had Walter shown any interest in Berlin? He had hardly been back after he had begun University in Jena. Even now, Walter was working his way up through the Legal system in Thuringia with aspirations of becoming a Judge. He had absolutely no use for the house in Berlin. Besides, ownership wasn’t going to change, Zella was just going to live there until she figured out something else.
“It is like when you were children” Zella’s mother had said to Zella, “Whenever you got anything, your brother had to have it even if it was something he hated.”
That was as close to criticism as Zella had ever heard her mother level at her brother. While Maria Acker frequently spoke to her children about what they were doing and wasn’t shy about giving her opinions, she almost never mentioned those opinions to anyone else.
While Zella had known that her one and a half room apartment in Charlottenburg was completely impractical, the house in Mitte was huge in comparison. It had been the city residence of Zella’s father, a Generalfeldmarschall and Markgraf even if how he had gone about that was comparatively modest. The workshop in the basement was still there even if the priceless collection of motorcycles had been moved elsewhere. The rooms of the ground floor felt empty to Zella without her parent’s keepsakes from around the World. The furniture was covered, and the rugs were full of dust. She had no idea where to begin with making it livable or what to do with so much space. Of course, she already knew which room would be her new studio, Walter’s bedroom.
“So, this is the place?” Yuliya asked as she followed Yuri in through the front door carrying a box that was from Zella’s apartment. She, along with Yuri’s two younger half-sisters, Svetlana, and Veronika, were helping Zella move. If her idea of helping was exploring the house. Not that she could be too sore with the two girls. They loved the idea of being Aunties of Irina and hearing them laughing upstairs made the house feel far less like a mausoleum.
Off the Island of Rhodes, Eastern Mediterranean
The Medical Service had taken blood samples from every member of the crew while they had been anchored in Constantinople under orders by the High Command in Wunsdorf-Zossen. The fact that the OKW had decided to get involved had done nothing to quell the rumors that were flying around among the crews of the ships under Louis Ferdinand Junior’s command. They had all seen what had happened to Oberbootsmann Martin so those rumors were grounded in hard reality. According to newly arrived personnel from Kiel, Wilhelmshaven, and Danzig it wasn’t just the Navy, the Heer and Luftwaffe were also doing the same things. The consensus was that there was an insidious new type of clap out there that killed you slowly.
When Louis had spoken with his sister, Kiki had said that there were others in the Medical Service whose specialty was basically Detective Work, and they were in the process of trying to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. There had been guidance from Koblenz that had gone to the Ships’ Doctors and Corpsmen on the best practices regarding bloodborne pathogens. For Louis that was not good news because of the implication that this thing might still be lurking among the crew. Borchardt had said that this was like any other crisis, the Captain, meaning Louis, needed to lead them through it regardless.
Despite all of this, they still had a job to do. Just a few kilometers away, the war that they were monitoring was raging merrily along with accusations of war crimes being committed by both sides. As far as Louis was concerned the world might be a better place if the respective Governments of Greece and Turkey just happened to fall off the edge of it.
The Intelligence Section aboard the Ozelot specialized in Signal Intelligence, which was key in monitoring the conflict. The other ships of the small flotilla were in in close escort in case someone decided to do something extremely stupid. Louis had also been warned that there would likely be individuals ashore who would take exception to their mere presence as well as those who might try to do something clever to try to bring them into the war against the other side. As if this whole situation wasn’t already complicated enough.
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Louis and his medical officer/rating are going to quickly discover that the crew are going to pay very close attention to their health briefings for the foreseeable future. The crew will also be getting checked the instant they notice anything 'odd' or even get the sniffles. Bootsmann Martin has demonstrated why, after all, if it happened to him, it could happen to anyone. Scuttlebutt will spread this throughout the German military and beyond, which should help in combating some of the prejudices against this insidious diseases victims.
This timeline has been very successful in taking real people and altering their circumstances in ways that are both logical and surprising at the same time.
With that in mind, John Lewis, the IOTL Civil Rights Icon, could have ITTL been accused of being part of the terrorist group led by Martin Luthur King Jr. which of course was not true and fled to Canada seeking asylum.
In the post about Marie attending Catholic Mass in Montreal with her grandparents, Marie attempted to speak Swahili to a black man passing out pamphlets, Sir Malcolm admonished Marie and told her not to "bother" him.
Sir Malcolm being the former head of RCMP Counterintelligence, would have known who he was and would have been very wary of Marie interacting with him.
Joe Louis IOTL was the greatest Heavyweight Boxer of all time, and that should have been the same ITTL,
In 1940 Joe Louis endorsed the Republican nominee for President, Wendall L. Wilkie and it would be very logical for him to have endorsed Thomas Dewey ITTL
With Dewey wining the Electoral College vote while losing the popular vote, Louis with his endorsement, could be credited with delivering the votes of black voters in crucial states.
I could see the IOTL manager of Louis still screwing him out of his money ITTL, but with no American participation in the ITTL WW II, Joe Louis doesn't join the Army and continues to fight professionally, and with the much lower income tax rate ITTL, he shouldn't have the same tax problems that he did IOTL.
The ITTL 1938 rematch of Joe Louis and Max Schmelling shouldn't have the same cultural impact of IOTL beyond the usual "Great White Hope" when a white boxer fights a black boxer for the Heavyweight Championship of the World, and I could see Joe Louis and Max Schmeling developing the same friendship they had IOTL ITTL.
I could see Joe Louis having the same money problems ITTL that he had IOTL, but I cannot see Joe Louis handing out pamphlets in Montreal anonymously, hence the confusion I had with the misspelling, to be fair to the Author, there have been so many characters with the name of Louis that it was inevitable that this would have happened anyways.
With that in mind, John Lewis, the IOTL Civil Rights Icon, could have ITTL been accused of being part of the terrorist group led by Martin Luthur King Jr. which of course was not true and fled to Canada seeking asylum.
In the post about Marie attending Catholic Mass in Montreal with her grandparents, Marie attempted to speak Swahili to a black man passing out pamphlets, Sir Malcolm admonished Marie and told her not to "bother" him.
Sir Malcolm being the former head of RCMP Counterintelligence, would have known who he was and would have been very wary of Marie interacting with him.
Joe Louis IOTL was the greatest Heavyweight Boxer of all time, and that should have been the same ITTL,
In 1940 Joe Louis endorsed the Republican nominee for President, Wendall L. Wilkie and it would be very logical for him to have endorsed Thomas Dewey ITTL
With Dewey wining the Electoral College vote while losing the popular vote, Louis with his endorsement, could be credited with delivering the votes of black voters in crucial states.
I could see the IOTL manager of Louis still screwing him out of his money ITTL, but with no American participation in the ITTL WW II, Joe Louis doesn't join the Army and continues to fight professionally, and with the much lower income tax rate ITTL, he shouldn't have the same tax problems that he did IOTL.
The ITTL 1938 rematch of Joe Louis and Max Schmelling shouldn't have the same cultural impact of IOTL beyond the usual "Great White Hope" when a white boxer fights a black boxer for the Heavyweight Championship of the World, and I could see Joe Louis and Max Schmeling developing the same friendship they had IOTL ITTL.
I could see Joe Louis having the same money problems ITTL that he had IOTL, but I cannot see Joe Louis handing out pamphlets in Montreal anonymously, hence the confusion I had with the misspelling, to be fair to the Author, there have been so many characters with the name of Louis that it was inevitable that this would have happened anyways.
Part 142, Chapter 2453
Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Fifty-Three
18th April 1976
Montreal, Canada
It was finally Easter Sunday and as Marie Alexandra was brewing up a pot of what had been sold as the “Black Death Blend” of coffee she had an unfortunate visitor who was ruining the experience. When she had seen the beans advertised in the store there had been a humorous disclaimer that had convinced her that they were perfect for today. That was why she was in the kitchen waiting impatiently for the water to boil after putting the electric coffee grinder to use.
“You gave up coffee for lent?” Jacqueline “Jackie” Kennedy asked.
“My grandmother didn’t give me a choice” Marie replied.
“I met your grandmother” Jackie said, “I fear that she doesn’t like me very much.”
The sixteen-year-old daughter of Jack Kennedy was traveling with her father on a business trip. For her it was unimaginable that anyone would ever dislike her. Marie didn’t dislike Jackie, she wished that the girl would stop talking occasionally. She had talked the entire time that Marie had been in the process of making the coffee. It seemed that Jackie had never seen a French press used before. It seemed that Jack felt that having his daughter spend the afternoon with Marie while he was meeting with clients would be good for her. Henriette was just watching the whole conversation with considerable bemusement.
“You will find that puts you in good company in this city” Marie replied, “My grandmother’s approval is probably not something I would take too seriously.”
Marie might have told Jackie that Margot only seemed to approve of those who either fit her narrow definitions of what she considered proper, or else that had something that she wanted. Marie knew that the way things stood presently was only because of the later reason. There was a part of Marie that thought that she ought to give her grandmother exactly what she thought she wanted. Queen Elizabeth already knew who Margot Blackwood was through gossip that she had would have heard through Marie’s mother, Empress Suga, Marie’s godmother former Empress Charlotte for certain, and who knew who else. Suga and Elizabeth’s tea parties in Berlin and London respectively should terrify those who were the day’s entertainment. Margot had no idea that she was asking Marie to lead her into a lion’s den wearing a suit made of steak and the lionesses were extremely hungry.
When the coffee was ready, Marie poured herself a cup and took a drink. It was bliss, like rediscovering an old book that she had read years earlier…
“My God, how can you drink that black?” Henriette asked.
Jackie was making a face.
Marie hadn’t told them to help themselves while she had been having a moment. “There is cream in the refrigerator and the sugar bowl is on the counter by the cutting board” She said before saying the word “Heathens” under her breath as she watched as Henriette and Jackie scrambled to turn what was wonderful into little more than confectionery.
Washington D.C.
The file that had been sent to the White House by the German Embassy was unexpected. This copy of a report might have been written largely in English, but as Nixon swiftly discovered it might as well have been written in Greek it was so full of medical jargon. Still, as previous Administrations had discovered, whenever the name Kaiserlicher Zentralsanitätsdienst, the official name of the German Military Medical Service Branch, appeared on the letterhead along with a stamp for immediate public distribution they were in for a bad day. This was proving to be no exception. While the other Service Branches of the German preferred to keep their secrets, the KZ obnoxiously seemed to feel that secrecy didn’t serve their interests.
Nixon had asked some of the foremost experts to go over the file to see if they could make any sense of it in the Roosevelt Room. As with other incidents Nixon had found that they were serious people who didn’t care about politics, they had a mission to perform. They were a lot like their German counterparts in that regard. Today, he saw looks of concern crossing their faces as they looked through the documents, it took them a considerable amount of time to reach a consensus. Finally one of them, a man who had been identified to Nixon as being a rising star at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases spoke. He wasn’t a big man, but he seemed to fill the room with his presence.
“We might have a serious problem, Sir” He said.
“On a scale from one to ten, Doctor…?” Nixon asked.
“I think this goes past all of that, ten times a thousand” The man said, “And it’s Fauci, Sir.”
“Yes… Doctor Fauci” Nixon said, “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”
“The Germans are notoriously close-lipped about the readiness of their military” Fauci replied, “They are telling us about an Oberbootsmann, a Petty Officer in their Navy if I am reading this right, named David Martin who went from robust health to such a state that they couldn’t figure out just which condition killed him at the age of twenty-nine after he died a couple weeks ago. That shows exactly how seriously they are taking this.”
Doctor Fauci flipped through the papers before he held up a photograph taken by an electron microscope that was part of the file that purported to show the still unnamed virus. “As far as I can tell, this is real” He said.
“I get that” Nixon said, “But why are they telling us?”
That resulted in some more talking among themselves by the Doctors, then they went through the file again before they handed Fauci a couple different sheets of paper. Nixon knew that he would get the same questions from Congress, except they would not be nearly as nice.
“A virus has absolutely no respect for National borders” Fauci said, “They feel they have a duty to warn us.”
“Do they have any suggestions as to how they intend to contain this?” Nixon asked.
“Actually, they are saying that it is already too late for that” Fauci replied, “Using the same protocols they used with David Martin they have detected this virus in blood samples taken in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago.”
It was already here? Nixon thought to himself with a sinking feeling.
“Just how did they get those blood samples?” Nixon asked tapping his finger on table for emphasis.
Fauci looked a bit embarrassed for a few seconds.
“Well, Sir” Fauci said awkwardly, “There was already a crisis before this. How many free clinics anywhere in America would turn away a Doctor volunteering their services for a few days while they just happen to be on vacation?”
Congress was going to have kittens when they learned about this.
18th April 1976
Montreal, Canada
It was finally Easter Sunday and as Marie Alexandra was brewing up a pot of what had been sold as the “Black Death Blend” of coffee she had an unfortunate visitor who was ruining the experience. When she had seen the beans advertised in the store there had been a humorous disclaimer that had convinced her that they were perfect for today. That was why she was in the kitchen waiting impatiently for the water to boil after putting the electric coffee grinder to use.
“You gave up coffee for lent?” Jacqueline “Jackie” Kennedy asked.
“My grandmother didn’t give me a choice” Marie replied.
“I met your grandmother” Jackie said, “I fear that she doesn’t like me very much.”
The sixteen-year-old daughter of Jack Kennedy was traveling with her father on a business trip. For her it was unimaginable that anyone would ever dislike her. Marie didn’t dislike Jackie, she wished that the girl would stop talking occasionally. She had talked the entire time that Marie had been in the process of making the coffee. It seemed that Jackie had never seen a French press used before. It seemed that Jack felt that having his daughter spend the afternoon with Marie while he was meeting with clients would be good for her. Henriette was just watching the whole conversation with considerable bemusement.
“You will find that puts you in good company in this city” Marie replied, “My grandmother’s approval is probably not something I would take too seriously.”
Marie might have told Jackie that Margot only seemed to approve of those who either fit her narrow definitions of what she considered proper, or else that had something that she wanted. Marie knew that the way things stood presently was only because of the later reason. There was a part of Marie that thought that she ought to give her grandmother exactly what she thought she wanted. Queen Elizabeth already knew who Margot Blackwood was through gossip that she had would have heard through Marie’s mother, Empress Suga, Marie’s godmother former Empress Charlotte for certain, and who knew who else. Suga and Elizabeth’s tea parties in Berlin and London respectively should terrify those who were the day’s entertainment. Margot had no idea that she was asking Marie to lead her into a lion’s den wearing a suit made of steak and the lionesses were extremely hungry.
When the coffee was ready, Marie poured herself a cup and took a drink. It was bliss, like rediscovering an old book that she had read years earlier…
“My God, how can you drink that black?” Henriette asked.
Jackie was making a face.
Marie hadn’t told them to help themselves while she had been having a moment. “There is cream in the refrigerator and the sugar bowl is on the counter by the cutting board” She said before saying the word “Heathens” under her breath as she watched as Henriette and Jackie scrambled to turn what was wonderful into little more than confectionery.
Washington D.C.
The file that had been sent to the White House by the German Embassy was unexpected. This copy of a report might have been written largely in English, but as Nixon swiftly discovered it might as well have been written in Greek it was so full of medical jargon. Still, as previous Administrations had discovered, whenever the name Kaiserlicher Zentralsanitätsdienst, the official name of the German Military Medical Service Branch, appeared on the letterhead along with a stamp for immediate public distribution they were in for a bad day. This was proving to be no exception. While the other Service Branches of the German preferred to keep their secrets, the KZ obnoxiously seemed to feel that secrecy didn’t serve their interests.
Nixon had asked some of the foremost experts to go over the file to see if they could make any sense of it in the Roosevelt Room. As with other incidents Nixon had found that they were serious people who didn’t care about politics, they had a mission to perform. They were a lot like their German counterparts in that regard. Today, he saw looks of concern crossing their faces as they looked through the documents, it took them a considerable amount of time to reach a consensus. Finally one of them, a man who had been identified to Nixon as being a rising star at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases spoke. He wasn’t a big man, but he seemed to fill the room with his presence.
“We might have a serious problem, Sir” He said.
“On a scale from one to ten, Doctor…?” Nixon asked.
“I think this goes past all of that, ten times a thousand” The man said, “And it’s Fauci, Sir.”
“Yes… Doctor Fauci” Nixon said, “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”
“The Germans are notoriously close-lipped about the readiness of their military” Fauci replied, “They are telling us about an Oberbootsmann, a Petty Officer in their Navy if I am reading this right, named David Martin who went from robust health to such a state that they couldn’t figure out just which condition killed him at the age of twenty-nine after he died a couple weeks ago. That shows exactly how seriously they are taking this.”
Doctor Fauci flipped through the papers before he held up a photograph taken by an electron microscope that was part of the file that purported to show the still unnamed virus. “As far as I can tell, this is real” He said.
“I get that” Nixon said, “But why are they telling us?”
That resulted in some more talking among themselves by the Doctors, then they went through the file again before they handed Fauci a couple different sheets of paper. Nixon knew that he would get the same questions from Congress, except they would not be nearly as nice.
“A virus has absolutely no respect for National borders” Fauci said, “They feel they have a duty to warn us.”
“Do they have any suggestions as to how they intend to contain this?” Nixon asked.
“Actually, they are saying that it is already too late for that” Fauci replied, “Using the same protocols they used with David Martin they have detected this virus in blood samples taken in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago.”
It was already here? Nixon thought to himself with a sinking feeling.
“Just how did they get those blood samples?” Nixon asked tapping his finger on table for emphasis.
Fauci looked a bit embarrassed for a few seconds.
“Well, Sir” Fauci said awkwardly, “There was already a crisis before this. How many free clinics anywhere in America would turn away a Doctor volunteering their services for a few days while they just happen to be on vacation?”
Congress was going to have kittens when they learned about this.
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Do the smart thing and leverage this into an international doctor's system of some kind Nixon!
Play it off as the first step to international cooperation in a realm without the military involved!
Play it off as the first step to international cooperation in a realm without the military involved!
Oh Margot. You really are ambitious, but you seriously have no idea.
This could be delicious...
(In a David Attenborough Voice) And here you see the lesser spotted Margot, looking to move her way up the social Strata, but is unaware of the many social predators above her that have already eyed her up as a light lunch...