A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

rast

The secret of the demagogue is to make himself as stupid as his audience so they believe they are clever as he.
(Karl Kraus)

Gudrun had abandoned the DFU, when the AFV had offered her better conditions. The peace party was on the downgrade anyway. The clamour for peace was a thing of the past. At present, folks were no longer interested in this trite aspiration. The space quest and the ice were the important themes nowadays. The AFV was hollering for an all–out space effort, that was making them attractive for many people. – True, the conservative Schmidt government were giving their all for success in space. But most young people didn't have trust in those old geezers. Herbert Weller was rather one of them, youthful, enthusiastic, dedicated, maverick and sparkling.

The lad was a magician; Gudrun had witnessed it here in Berlin. He had enchanted the audience, had transformed them into an abulic mob. It had been phantastic, absolutely weird. The lush bloke had teased her indeed, had made her horny to the core. – But this hair–riser wasn't the reason for working for the AFV. The person who had hired her was Klara Schmittke, the party secretary. Because of ample experience gathered in advocating the DFU, Gudrun had been the ideal candidate for AFV party lawyer.

Klara was a ruthless bitch, a former DVP valkyrie, con–wise and savage – and also deep in love with Herbert... But even this bull–dike was sincerely believing in space exploitation. Space was the future. Colonies on Luna, Mars and Venus were only the beginning. The old farts were going to die here on Earth, but the young folks would fly to Alpha Centauri and Sirius. – Gudrun, however, while deeply aroused by Herbert, did not believe in this space humbug. Space travel was absolute high–tech business, nothing for jailbirds and ex–peaceniks. And while consuming drugs might help imagining space adventures, it was a bad recipe for proper space faring.

Nevertheless, people were in full cry after the current space gest. Even the recent loss of a Raumschrat and two poor space farers, together with a load of vital material, hadn't stopped the hype. Sacrifices had to be made, they were unavoidable, said Herbert – and the masses were believing him. The government was telling the same story, but people were sooner listening to Herbert's tucket. The ice might be coming, but Germans would thumb their noses on the glaciers – and fly to the stars.

It was bizarre, in Gudrun's mind, but it seemed to work. Folks were not panicking, there was no mass stampede to the lands of the south. People were toiling and starving to make the space effort happen. – This was not due to the government's lame propaganda, but to Herbert's forceful campaign. – Sometimes, Gudrun was wondering what was going to happen if the space mission failed, if Weizsäcker's little sun turned out a flop...
 

rast

The easiest way to solve a problem is to deny it exists.
(Isaak Ozimov)

He could have been content, chuffed and made, if he had had the time to sit idle and beam. Future stories were selling like hot cakes. Although being a prolific writer, Isaak Ozimov could hardly satisfy the demands of the publishers. It was strange. The world was coming apart – and people were buying books like crazy... Books dealing with space travel and adventures on strange worlds.

It was fiction, of course, contrived by him and others, who never had travelled in space. He had flown to Sankt–Peterburg several times, and once to Moscow, with passenger aircraft, horrible experiences; that was as close as he had ever come – and wanted to come – to outer space. Well, some of his colleagues never had, as far as he knew, left their backcountry neighbourhood – and were fantasising about vast space empires or elusive star kingdoms.

Now, ice age stories didn't sell at all, even if the scientific background was much better known in this case. Evidently, customers weren't interested in learning more about the harsh realities of a glacial period. Escaping to the stars seemed to be vastly preferrable. – Isaak had, however, combined both settings. In his latest novel 'Snowball in the Sky' Earth was covered by ice, for the most part, and was an unimportant world belonging to a huge stellar empire based on the planet Trantor, far far away.

A man from this time, Yossele Shvarts, a tailor living in Brisk, was accidentally transported to the remote future, where he eventually managed to save the stellar empire from an evil plot. That had provided Isaak the opportunity to describe the frozen planet in much detail – without telling an ice age story. It was an impressive piece of fiction, and the readers liked it very much.

Currently, he was developing a cycle of related short stories telling the story of the Foundation, an institute designed to preserve the best of galactic civilisation after the terminal collapse of the Trantor based empire from the 'Snowball' novel. Yeah, what was really important? What had to be preserved in times of global – no, interstellar, of course – disaster? What did humanity truly require?

As a sideline, he was writing a bunch of short stories about adventures in the solar system, on Venus, on the moons of Jupiter, on Mars, and so on. Such short stories were very popular in Russia, where special magazines existed for them and comic versions were often published for the kids, but not so in Germany and the COMECON, where readers were expecting proper novels and sophisticated plots.

And in real life, one was facing hard times. The 1953 harvest had been utterly disappointing, in the Heymshtot, in Germany and in Russia. One was living from what the south was supplying – and hoping for success in space. Isaak, a studied veterinary, had tried to penetrate into the lofty theories of Carl Friedrich von Weizsäcker, but soon had abandoned this venture.

The Russian mirror approach was much easier to understand. It would almost be ingenious – if the Russians could automatise the process. Just launching unmanned satellites, one after another, that, once in orbit, extended their sun sails and directed sunlight towards Earth. Perhaps he should write a story about such a robot system...
 
Last edited:

rast

Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.
(Walt Whitman)

He was a stranger in a strange land, mused Tom Keller Junior. Travelling through the Unites States was a wonder tour indeed. – They had crossed the border near Big Beaver and arrived in Montana, far away from Mexico. The plan was that they should wander south along the western fringe of the Great Plains. Dad called it the Short–Grass Prairie. It was cattle country for the most part, with occasional farming between. Further south, said Dad, the country was going to become rather dry, a kind of desert.

They had spent the first night on US soil in an abandoned farmstead, which Dad knew from his earlier forays. Yeah, on the Yankee side of the frontier, things weren't much better than they had been at home. And they hadn't been the only folks wandering about. There had been other Canadians, but not heading for Mexico, rather for California or the Mississippi Valley. And Yankees, uprooted farmers from the Corn Belt mainly, tramping west. The corn hadn't grown this year; the pigs had, at least, been sold in time. The money earned was just sufficient for moving to the Pacific coast, they said.

The Kellers were walking on foot, a cumbersome procedure – and bloody strength–sapping. They had a tent, which the donkeys were carrying, but in most cases they were asking for shelter at ranches or farms. They were offering to work for billet and meal. With five adults – Tom Jr and his sister Victoria were passing for adults – and three adolescent kids they were quite a potent work force. Nevertheless, most farmers were declining the offer. They had nothing to spare, all the more not for eight folks, two donkeys and four dogs.

Thank goodness, it was different with ranchers. Their business was thriving, as grass was growing well and meat was selling for good money. Hence, the Kellers soon had become experts in erecting and repairing fences and enclosures. These ranches were beyond everything Tom Jr had known before. Rich people these ranchers were, often owning motor cars, radios, fridges and washing machines. Obviously, raising cattle in the US was quite profitable. Shouldn't one change to stock farming as well? Good idea, said Dad – if you can find a bloke who gives you the money for buying the first gross of cattle...

The further south they were moving, and they were in Colorado right now, the more prosperous the settlements were becoming. Denver was an outright industrial centre with suburbs, rapid transit railway and huge factories. Tom Jr was fascinated. Many people here were working at desks! And in suits! – Dad was anxious to move on. These towns weren't good; townsfolk had no appreciation of migrants. They believed the Kellers were hoboes, out to cheat and steal. And there was police, something one didn't find in the countryside.

The Kellers were armed to the teeth, of course. Country folks generally didn't mind that fact. Only lunatics were running around weaponless in the wilderness. But those town constables might have different ideas. They even might ask for documents – and discover the Kellers were aliens... The Yankees had strict immigration rules, said Dad. Once someone found out they were Canadians, they were in deep trouble. So, keep small and unremarkable, and let's get away slyly...

How was it the States were so prosperous? Tom Jr, used to the desolation that was Regina, was still gaping at the glittering glory of downtown Denver, while the little caravan was struggling south. Okay, farmers seemed to have severe problems here as well, at least on the Great Plains and in the north of the country. But the rest of the country was doing well, it seemed. Roads were neat, trains were rolling regularly, mail was delivered. He wondered what was awaiting them in Mexico...
 
Last edited:

rast

Men are born to succeed, not to fail.
(Henry David Thoreau)

They hadn't grilled him, not a bit. He had spilled it out all by his own. After sitting in jail day by day, week after week, in solitary confinement, he eventually had broken down – and had told them everything he knew. They had listened to him, had recorded his avowals – and had said nothing. Thereafter, he had been sent back to ad seg again.

Six days later, the cell door had opened and a man had walked in. "Howdy doodie, Mister Little?" he had asked and smiled. Yes, one had checked his tale – and had, by and large, found he had told the truth. An extraordinary story this was, indeed. Okay then, because he was a US citizen, there had been no illegal entry. But he was still accused of fraudulent falsification, even if the document concerned was a Mexican passport.

But, the man had remarked, they were ready to forget all this petty rubbish – if Malcolm was ready to work for them. Who 'they' really were, hadn't become apparent straight away, although he had asked. What kind of work? Well, work inside the US, in any case, and for the most part in Texas proper. One was well aware that Jamaica, Cuba, the RUM and even Mexico had become dangerous places for Malcolm.

He had the ideal background for merging into certain groups, who were toying with communist ideas. Texas was the vanguard of capitalism in the US, the lone state to uphold the old American values. This was attracting opposition, people propagating socialist and communist solutions, like they were found in all other states of the union. Learning more about the internal matters of these groups was a legitimate objective.

So, he was to be a spy? – No, not a spy, perhaps one could call him a confidential informant. No taking of secret photographs required, no theft of documents, only reporting what was being discussed and who was who. As a Negro, he was the right man for this task. Many, almost four fifths, of the dissenters were black, some had even Caribbean roots.

And in case he declined? – Oh, he would be tried and sent to prison camp for twelve or fifteen months, to a neat outfit near Fort Stockton in Pecos Country, snug and sunny. If he survived, he would be free to go where he wanted and do what he wanted. – Malcolm hadn't hesitated any longer and had signed in.

Joining one of the dissident groups in Houston hadn't been easy. There were many students among these drawing–room communists, and Malcolm had had only a modest education, even if he possessed ample experience with communism. Well, hands–on experience didn't count here, pomposity and uttering weird theses were much more important.

Propagating the SUP garbage from Jamaica, however, had done the trick. The youngsters had no clue where he got his theses from. They never had been in touch with real hardcore commies. – It had made him famous in the circles of the dissidents. That was cute, because it meant girls. Being a gascon attracted girls. Malcolm digged it.

It was a funny life: sleeping long, working now and again, discussing the whole night long, humping a wench in between. They called him Malcolm X, because his propositions were so extreme.
 

rast

Insight into universal nature provides an intellectual delight and sense of freedom that no blows of fate and no evil can destroy.
(Alexander von Humboldt)

You truly could trust Hans Kammler to be a pain in the ass, always and everywhere, thought Wernher von Braun, while gaping at the door through which his boss had just left the scene. – In orbit, construction of the sphere was verging on completion. Thus far, one had lost five space farers. That was bitter, but nevertheless one hundred percent less than originally calculated. – Hoisting liquid hydrogen up and filling it into the sphere was going to be the next task. That was a very tricky enterprise, because the stuff had to remain liquid. The Sun was heating up surfaces facing her, hence the sphere had to rotate to keep it evenly cold. Should the hydrogen ever go gaseous, it was going to destroy the sphere.

But that wasn't why Kammler had just barged in. Some folks in the scientific community had got toothache regarding Weizsäcker's Little Sun. It might not do what its originator was promising it would. – Hence, one needed a plan B, a fallback option. The Russian mirror approach was imposing. Was it possible to launch automated satellites? With self–extending mirror–sails? That were kept on course by small rocket units? – This had to be calculated, of course. Von Braun couldn't answer the questions with gut instinct. But it might be doable... One could utilise the smaller A8 rockets for such unmanned missions, launch them at the old Peenemünde site, which could handle smaller missiles but not the big A12.

The A8s were available in great number, installed in the missile silos hidden in the Central German Uplands. One could retrieve them, dismount the warheads and use them as launch vehicles. – The satellite units would have to be constructed from scratch. He had no clue whether that was possible at all. It wasn't his turf. But the satellite folks ought to know. It was a question for Fritz Mueller and Ludwig Roth and their teams to elaborate. – Operation Little Sun would proceed as planned, this Kammler had asserted. No cuts would be tolerated. Operation Auto–Mirror was going to be additional – without draining OLS resources... said Kammler... Oh dear! Von Braun sighed.
 
Last edited:

rast

Along the blade of the knife lies the path of paradox – the single most worthy path of the fearless mind.
(Yevgeny Zamyatin)

It was snowing outside. That wasn't uncommon for Siberia in November. Temperature had fallen below zero degrees Celsius already three weeks ago, in mid–October; that was normal as well. It looked and felt like an ordinary winter at the frontier to China. Down here in the bunker, a sturdy leftover from Savinkov's build-up for war in the Far East, one was also safe from radioactivity. Oh, there wasn't much of it up there, normally the Geiger counters didn't go clicking frantically. But there was still stuff, caesium–137, iodine–131, strontium–90, cobalt–60 and steropium–239, a sprinkling here, a modicum there. Eating mushrooms and game was not advisable, and had, in fact, been forbidden long ago.

The problem was that one couldn't see, smell or feel the stuff, nor perceive its effects. Nature was flourishing; there were beasts of all kinds, evidently healthy and astir. Everything seemed to be all right, but wasn't quite. The crap wouldn't kill you right away, but might bestow cancer on you. Hence, one better remained extremely cautious. – One wondered what safety precautions the Chinese on the other bank of the Amur River were applying. They had no bunkers; they were running around unprotected and living in tents. They suddenly had arrived some weeks ago, ordinary Chinese military, riding in nifty Yankee vehicles and flying advanced Yankee helicopters. One was monitoring them incessantly, of course.

It had been an illusion to believe the Chinese might stay away for a long time, evidently. And promptly, they had come back, once the worst troubles further south had been overcome. – Well, one had done some research on the south bank of the Amur, on Chinese turf, the last time only a few days before the buggers had turned up. The nasty stuff was there too, even somewhat more of it than hereabouts. But the Zhyoltyzhopees didn't care, by all appearances. Okay, it was their health... One could be curious how long it was going to take until civilians arrived, colonists, so to say. – Although, the area in question hadn't been settled before the GQDD, it had been forests and hills, just like today. There had been no settlements rating a mention.

Yeah, what did these blasted Zhyoltyzhopees really want here? In the wilderness of the Greater Khingan Range? Were they looking for trouble? – Colonel Ivan I. Yakubovsky, commander of a company of tanks in the Far East War, highly decorated for valour in combat, twice wounded and scarred from bailing out from a vehicle in flames, was ready to give them trouble. Should the bastards come across the Amur, they were in for a nasty surprise...
 

rast

There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.
(Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov)

There was trouble afield. A phone call had just alerted him to it. Feliks Yevgenyevich Pungin was dressing up. It was cold outside, six degrees below zero, and sunny. A fufeika, padded boots and mittens should do.
"I'm off to Brazhnikova." he informed Zhanna, the secretary. "They have been arrested by the military. No clue how long this rubbish will take me to resolve. – I'm taking the white Varyág. See you."

'They' were a vac squad, one of the vacuum cleaner teams tasked to keep Vladivostok free from radioactive stuff. They usually consisted of one Russian foreman and several Korean workers. – Since the Chinese had come back to their side of the border, the soldiers were growing increasingly nervous. Most probably, an overzealous podpráporshchik had taken the good Koreans for Chinese spies.

Vladivostok was an extremely busy port. A good part of the foodstuffs bought in southern countries was arriving here. And with the rail lines to the west open, transhipment moves were often blocking the few roads available. Feliks was bearing with the workers, who were mostly Koreans of course, but he lost about half an hour waiting for them to clear a path for his vehicle.

The soldiers at the camp entrance wouldn't let him in. He was a civilian; no entry for civilians. Eventually, after they realised he wouldn't go away, an officer was called. – The lieutenant said one of the aliens had taken photographs of their guns. The Russian foreman of the team, a certain Pyotr, was drunk, too drunk to have noticed anything. Perhaps, the aliens had made him drunk, so that they could pry about unimpaired.

Eh, pictures, that was new. But that Pyotr should be sloshed at this time of the day was no surprise – and certainly not the work of the Koreans. – The camera had been seized? Yes, but the pictures hadn't been developed yet. One was waiting for an emissary of the military secret service to arrive and take charge. – This was serious then, he wouldn't be able to pry the vac mob loose. What about the vac truck? Seized as well, had to be examined.

Oh dear, what a mess. Espionage... Well, not impossible. The Koreans were underlings of the Japanese. And the Japanese were allies of the Chinese. – Feliks thanked the lieutenant and left. This might have repercussions for the cleaning service. One had come to regard the Koreans as ubiquitous flunkies, but now, with tensions at the border going up again, they might be interned – or evicted...

He had to see the boss. – Without Koreans, the cleaning service was done. How should the town be kept free of radioactive pollution without them? The military, once alerted, would demand their removal. And the soldiers usually got their way... Fudge! And the road was blocked again by frigging Koreans shifting crates... Damn, Vladivostok without Koreans would be a ghost town.
 

rast

It is a terrible thought, to contemplate that an immense number of mediocre thinkers are occupied with really influential matters.
(Friedrich Nietzsche)

As the month of December 1953 set in, Lake Constance started to congeal. It didn't freeze solid at a stroke, but was rather carrying floe. DELAG spent considerable time and energy to keep a take–off run for the Brüderchen aircraft clear, but by mid–December they had lost the fight. This led to a substantial slash in the German space effort, although Prerow was still trying to launch every other day. But liquid hydrogen was a tricky cargo, and the loss of four more space farers led to increased safety precautions and hence a much slower pace of takeoffs.

The RRA satellite scientists were still puzzling how to construct an automated and self–regulating solar mirror. It was evident that individual mirrors would have to be significantly smaller than the NASA example. However, automated piloting was still posing insurmountable problems. Whether it was solar wind or just radiation pressure that had pushed the Russian device did not really matter; one just had to know the dimension. NASA was not forthcoming with data, therefore one required a proper test sequence – for which at least one dumb satellite had to be sent up and gauged.

It was going to take several weeks still, until such a dumb prototype could be ready. Even so, one had at least solved to problem of the self–extending mirror, most probably... – Because the mirrors were Plan B only, and von Weizsäcker's Little Sun had to be tested first, Director Kammler could be placated despite the slow progress. – At any rate, weather seemed to be compliant. It was cold, granted, but precipitation was moderate, also in Russia. Only North America was reporting heavy blizzards and lots of snow.

The nuclear bombs were ready though – together with the firing circuit. Both, however, still had to be installed on the sphere. That was the next major step, once filling the sphere with liquid hydrogen had been completed. Von Braun thought, everything should be in place by early April 1954. This was acceptable for his political masters. The date of the national elections had been fixed on Sunday, April 25th, 1954. Therefore, the – hopefully – successful test of Weizsäcker's Little Sun would demonstrate the conservative government's ability to act decisively.
 

rast

You cannot wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
(Jack London)

The esteemed overlords were recovering – at a slow pace. It was a painful process for them, but one that also held promise for the future. After the Far East War, they had rebuild their scorched cities and wrecked transportation infrastructure hastily, without waiting for engineers and architects to come up with improvements and modern solutions. In those days, the government had wanted quick recovery. It had worked well for trade and commerce; but then, in 1951, the Great Honshu Earthquake had punished this approach severely.

A great deal of the misery the Japanese had had to suffer in the wake of the earthquake was due to old–fashioned infrastructure and deficient transportation. The nation had been fragmented, emergency services had been unable to move, sustenance had collapsed. And coastal shipping had been smashed by the tsunamis. – This time, however, reconstruction, even if tardy and cautious, was making ample allowances for modernisations. Nippon was going to be conditioned for the future: express train paths, motorways, airports, public transport, everything was now implemented.

One would gladly support the overlords, but they wouldn't have Koreans on the Home Islands. Actually, they didn't approve the presence of any aliens on the Home Islands. – Well, one was used to their quirks and knew how to deal with them; and despite all calamities they hadn't changed a bit. Yi Pyŏngch'ŏl didn't really care about the status of the Japanese islands, as long as the overlords were coming out of their sleep walking phase at long last. After all, it was about time. The Great Qing Empire was recovering quickly and reseizing its territory. The Russians were getting nervous. And the Yankee allies of the Qing seemed to multiply like rats.

Thanks to their paralysis, the overlords had missed the chance to participate in Chinese reconstruction. The Yankees had snatched the whole bargain. Well, the chaebŏl wouldn't complain; they had been busy tidying up the mess created by the hapless Kim Insurgency. The Japanese nuclear sites were in working order again – or had been replaced by new installations. The former zaibatsu production facilities had been taken over. But now, one was ready to look for new pastures and to conquer new frontiers...

There were indications that the Russians were going to oust the Korean workers they were currently employing in great numbers. This was a pity – but also an opportunity... Additional capacities permitted expansion and tackling of new markets. Canada was urgently flogging off natural resources for aliment. If one was able to boost food production on Borneo and the Philippines, one could reap nice benefits. And if the Canadians had already gone busted, one could still sell to the Japanese, the Russians – or even the Germans.

The overlords were disliking Yankee presence in China, but there was not much they could do about it. However, Nippon was a nuclear power – and China wasn't. And even if the Qing were currently striving to take possession of their realm again, they were in no position to threaten the Japanese hold on Korea, which was stalwartly supported by the chaebŏl. That meant the overlords could – at last – become independent of Chinese tutelage. Nippon could eventually become a sovereign great power... He had to discuss this issue with Baron Yamashita. Perhaps the overlords needed a broad hint to realise the opportunities offered...
 

Dain

rast said:
It is a terrible thought, to contemplate that an immense number of mediocre thinkers are occupied with really influential matters.
(Friedrich Nietzsche)

[...]

The nuclear bombs were ready though – together with the firing circuit. Both, however, still had to be installed on the sphere. That was the next major step, once filling the sphere with liquid hydrogen had been completed. Von Braun thought, everything should be in place by early April 1954. This was acceptable for his political masters. The date of the national elections had been fixed on Sunday, April 25th, 1954. Therefore, the – hopefully – successful test of Weizsäcker's Little Sun would demonstrate the conservative government's ability to act decisively.
Click to expand...
That's the second time they tried this timing stunt. It was a stupid idea the first time but repeating that mistake a second time even though it already led to the fall of a previous government... seems implausible.
 

rast

The Rocket Riots started because the Schumacher Government had agreed to sell fifty A8D missiles to the Ottoman Empire. No timing stunt involved...
 

Dain

rast said:
The Rocket Riots started because the Schumacher Government had agreed to sell fifty A8D missiles to the Ottoman Empire. No timing stunt involved...
Click to expand...
I'm referring to the death of Hanna Reitsch & Co in the second manned space mission. I definitely remember that that also was scheduled directly before the Reichstag election on exactly this logic and led to an election defeat (of the conservatives? With the SPD coming to power, I think.).

Anyway, compared to what they are convinced they are facing, elections obviously are a a secondary concern this time.
 

rast

It is not children only that one feeds with fairy tales.
(Gotthold Ephraim Lessing)

Erich Koch, the chairman of the DVP, was a gifted orator. who indeed knew how to sway an audience. But this skill was rendered moot when there was no audience. Where the hell were people? The scenic town of Würzburg was considered a sinecure, a safe bet, for the völkisch party. Yet, only about three hundred folks were sitting down there in the large hall, which easily could accommodate a crowd of 7,500. It was pathetic. What was going on here?

Well, he had to deliver his speech, no matter how many – or rather few – attendants had gathered. It was a stark waste of time and effort, but it couldn't be avoided. However, his staff had to find out the reason for this flop while he was speaking. – Reluctantly, Koch twirled his Charlie–Chaplin–beard and stepped forward. Feeble applause was greeting him...

Weller! Herbert Weller had been the cause, he learnt after his performance. The bloke had been – or rather was still – on the stage at Veitshöchheim, only three kilometres away. It had been a flying visit, not advertised beforehand. But it had attracted a huge crowd... Bother! Koch was frustrated. Tomorrow he was scheduled for Bamberg. Where was Weller going to be? – Well, in Frankfurt am Main, obviously; a big AFV rally was announced to occur yonder.

It was a bad portent for the hot phase of the national electoral campaign. This wretched upstart Weller was conjuring away voters in shoals. Space! What a rubbish! – Why were people suddenly so keen on space? Okay, a German colony on the Moon was something the DVP could likewise agree to. But only if no Jews, Gypsies, Niggers and other impure filth were allowed in...

Koch was alarmed. He was a professional politician, and he was living comfortably from this vocation. Should he lose that nice livelihood because of a weirdo raving on space adventures? – He had thought the AFV would suck dry the sordid peacenik party, the bloody DFU. But now, with the experience of an almost empty house, he began dreading his DVP could be afflicted too...
 

rast

Dain said:
I'm referring to the death of Hanna Reitsch & Co in the second manned space mission. I definitely remember that that also was scheduled directly before the Reichstag election on exactly this logic and led to an election defeat (of the conservatives? With the SPD coming to power, I think.).
Click to expand...

You're right, but it wasn't scheduled to influence the election, it was a mere co-incidence in the Russo-German space race. At that time, some hoped the mission might have a positive influence on the ballot, but it was planned, executed - and finally failed - without regard to the electoral campaign.
 

rast

There are more fools in the world than there are people.
(Heinrich Heine)

It was the most bizarre electoral campaign he could think of, mused Hans Georg von Mitzlaff, while balancing on a step–ladder and trying to arrange the party banner above his booth. In principle, nobody had time for the horseplay. People were busy with toiling to survive, helping launch rockets into space – or attempting to raise potatoes in the sitting room. But, of course, the ritual had to be observed, even if the DFU stood no chance in this contest. Hans Georg could see the writing on the wall: it was going to be a débâcle – not only for the peace party.

Folks were gritting their teeth and cracking on as good as they could. Yet, they were jolly fed up with all kinds of party shenanigans. They weren't keen on political debates, they wanted to be saved. – Even students and other young dropouts were no longer interested in discussions – or dope. The world had changed indeed. – Older dudes might still go for Schmidt–Hannover and his doter squad, but the youth was falling for this Weller character, who was promising them the stars.

Hans Georg couldn't see any positive outcome stemming from this space nuisance. He didn't even believe in the Weizsäcker solution – or the fabulous Russian mirrors. All this was monkey business. If the ice was truly coming, one had to move south. – But was it really coming? Three cold winters didn't make an ice age. Perhaps the current panic was going to die down, if the nascent winter 53/54 turned out to be less severe than the previous ones... Would that change people's attitudes?

Damn, why were people always prone to fall from one extreme to another? Couldn't they be just as lazy and languid as he was? The world would be a much better place in this case – tranquil and cosy. If all the effort spent on restoring the infrastructure and building missiles had been poured into shuttling people south, one could now peacefully lie under palm trees and enjoy the sun. Instead, one was grafting in bad weather and guzzling gloop from the field kitchen. And all that without any hope of being re–elected...
 

rast

As animals go, even in so limited a space as our world, man is botched and ridiculous. Few other brutes are so stupid, so docile or so cowardly.
(H. L. Mencken)

It was impossible to identify a pattern – except that it was generally too cold. Fritz Loewe was exasperated. This year, it seemed, it was North America's turn to get more snow than normal. The North German Plain first, then Russia and Siberia, and now Canada and the US were buried in snow, but where was the common denominator? It was a pity one knew so little about how an ice age was forming. Perhaps this flip–flopping was the rule. After all, it required lots of snow to make the glaciers grow.

Loewe had done some calculating: even if it was continually snowing like it had snowed in the North German Plain in November 1951, it would take several thousand years to accumulate all the snow required for forming the glaciers, which were considered the landmark of an ice age. So, most probably, freak weather and coldness would have to prevail for quite a long time – until the mighty ice shields had been cockered up.

By implication, this meant the current weather – too cold by two to three degrees Celsius averaged – might go on for a longer period, perhaps twenty thousand years, before the ice had grown fat enough to advance and cover the major part of the northern hemisphere. – Hence, the good message was the glaciers wouldn't come next year. But the bad tiding was that it would continue to be too cold nevertheless, too cold to survive in a country that very soon was going to look like Newfoundland or Labrador. Well, hunters and gatherers might survive, but farmers were doomed.

Stock–rearing might still be possible – as long as grass was growing, which, however, would be replaced by moss and lichens over time. Well, reindeer breeders might get along all the same... But the European civilisation as such was due to vanish. Yikes! Neanderthals certainly would like it here; a pity they were extinct. – Loewe perused the weather data received from the US. These folks were at least providing information. But one could intercalate conditions prevailing in Canada...

Not nice, definitely not nice. Okay, they were used to blizzards and severe snowfall... And it was only December, the worst was still to come, most probably. The basic data, however, were almost equivalent. Too cold for farming. Loewe wondered how the English system was going to survive under these conditions. No Canadian wheat, no vegetables, nothing... Canada – like Northern Europe – was becoming uninhabitable. And the US East Coast was hardly better off...

Governments were still refusing to accept the unavoidable. One was importing foodstuffs from the south – and hoping for the space racket to succeed. Loewe could understand this denial of reality, and if his analysis was correct, the space effort could even go on, because current conditions were going to last for a long time. – But the bulk of the population should be evacuated. The Mediterranean was about to turn in an environment Northern Europeans were going to dig...
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top
Top