Part #309: Here and There
“Was your English vacation this summer cancelled due to ‘Cambridgeshire Syndrome’? No travel insurance? Worry not! Quist Fairgrieve-Londsdale free on FR-24-52120 and see how much you could claim for your travel disruption! Put that smile back on your children’s faces with a free trip next year! No win, no fee! Call today!”
- Advertising poster seen on Hamilton Crescent, Fredericksburg, ENA.
Photographed and transcribed by Sgt Bob Mumby, November 2020
Sgt Mumby’s note: This poster was vandalised, with the words ‘Cambridgeshire Syndrome’ underlined in red and accompanying handwritten text reading ‘WHAT IS THE GOVERNMENT NOT TELLING US?’
*
(Lieutenant Black’s note)
I understand David is still collating the right lecture fragments in the right order – I can hear you doing the Morecambe and Wise joke in the background, Bob, stop it – to continue his narrative about decolonisation and the growth of Societism in Africa, or whatever it was. In the meantime, here’s a bit of an interlude from a talk we recorded from a famous traveller and documentarian, bit of a Michael Palin type maybe. There’s some interesting stuff about cultural differences between regions in this timeline and the history they derive from, which will help prepare us in future missions here.
(Under his breath) Also he talks about trains a lot and I like trains…
*
Extract from recorded lecture “A Life in Alighting Lounges” by Aloysius Jefferson Cooper, recorded November 21st, 2020—
…if you believe some folk in Russia, and a few extremists here, well, the only way to truly preserve this world as
(Puts on Russian accent for next few words) beautiful diamond of iridescent rainbows – yes I own a thesaurus
(Audience chuckles) is to lock everyone in his house and stop anyone talking to each other or interacting. Because then we might spread our ideas around and stop everywhere being unique, you see. Well, in my considered opinion, that’s, to use a technical term, poppycock.
(Audience chuckles and one or two oohs) What’s the
point of everywhere having unique cultures if you can’t go there and experience them? If the Societists had been clever – well, they wouldn’t have been Societists
(More chuckles) but if they’d been clever, it’d have been a lot less effort to just leave everything the way it was they found it. Just stop everyone from travelling, and tell people in ‘Zone Pi’ or whatever
(Laughs) that obviously the whole world is like
their culture, the one true culture, and say the exact same thing to people in ‘Zone E’ who have a different culture. Very easy, if nobody can go and check to see. If you don’t mind keeping everyone in ignorance, the way our Russian friends feel.
No, the point of having a diverse world is not just to stop Societism, it’s to build a place where we can wonder in just how difference people can be, while still being people worthy of respect. If you don’t go to another city, another country, another continent, then you might go your whole life thinking there’s only way to – say – cook an egg. That there’s only one spice that goes with this fish or that meat. Imagine how richer our lives are, compared to our forefathers’, because we have cinnamon from Kandy and candy from Cinnamon – I mean, Egypt
(Laughter). Would we ask an Italian to remove the tomatoes from his pizza because they come from our continent?[1] Should we ask the Irish to survive without potatoes, while the Scots retaliate by demanding we stop eating oatmeal for breakfast? Are only Mexicans allowed to eat chocolate? Are only Antipodean Indiens permitted to eat gurangue meat?[2]
Hopefully, such a proposition is self-evidently absurd. And yet the histrionics of some so-called Diversitarians have genuinely reached such heights. Panchali leaders have boasted of their commitment to purging so-called ‘foreign’ influences, while continuing to happily chomp down on curries including delicious Novamundine chilis, which the Aryan ancestors they idealise would have had no clue about. Nor do we have to go as far afield as India. We all remember the so-narrowly averted tragedy of the attempted October Fest death-luft attack in Michigan last year.[3]
(Subdued audience reaction) That pair of sick young murderers claimed to want to rid the land of German influence – while, it came out at the trial, toasting their vile plan beforehand with a couple of tins of Wagonknight Kellerbier. They were too idiotic to even know that was a German introduction!
No, there’s no future for anyone in pride in ignorance. It was that pride, that refusal to see beyond the edge of one’s valley, that made countries so vulnerable to the Societists – and other threats – back in the bad old days. Only by broadening our awareness of the world we live in can we truly appreciate that diversity.
(Pause while he takes a sip of drink)
Now, the first thing that travel teaches you about the world’s diversity involves, well, travel itself. You might start out thinking that surely things have got to be the same everywhere – you can’t take off in an aerodrome here and land in a carytic steerable at the other end, can you?[4]
(A few chuckles) But even as a traveller, it’s easy to remain blind to how different things may be. We’re used to eating an American menu we recognise, whether on internal drome flights or cross-national ones to Europe or China. But remember only half the drome, maybe, is devoted to outgoing travellers like ourselves. The other half, usually behind the curtain divider (or sometimes upper and lower decks on the real super-dromes) consists of visitors to the ENA who are now heading home, possibly along with some cargo, depending on the time of year. Anyway, whereas you and I may be tucking into fried ham and beans with an oilcake to follow, those homeward-bound voyagers behind the curtain might instead by snacking on
boeuf quéralien or, going west, duck-stuffed wontons with spring rolls.[5]
(Beat) And that’s just the Californians.
(Audience laughter and a little, scattered, applause)
So yes, we don’t even stop to think about how the aerolines are tailoring their menus so everyone gets their own cuisine – well, at least in theory, because in practice they have to compromise due to supply issues, and not even the ASN complains about it anymore if an Italian gets served apfelstrudel. When, of course, that should’ve gone to the Michiganite gentleman in the next section to him.
(More laughter and a few oohs) And don’t get me started on how you can put your foot wrong with food descriptions, either. Go to a big city here with a Siamese district and you might find something called ‘cuaicab’ or ‘pho-bo’, a hearty beef noodle soup, and be told it’s a Siamese dish. Say that in a bar in Tonkin and at best, you’ll end up thrown out; the Tonkinese are very touchy about their cuisine being associated with the people they view as colonial oppressors.
It’s one of those dreaded ‘travel botches’[6] I’ll be giving you a few of this evening
(Chuckles) but forgive me for that…you don’t actually have to eat what they give you, or even sit in that section, if you find a traveller in the other section willing to swap.
(Intake of breath from audience) No, really. Listen, even the most doctrinaire anti-Iversonian Russian would probably take me up on my offer after he’s spent three hours with the kid behind him kicking his chair.
(Laughter) If you’re not feeling so adventurous, keep your seat, but feel free to ask what else the drome is carrying. It’s usually a nightmare for the crew to balance the logistics of the different meals and they might be quite grateful if you want to try their extra consignment of schnitzel for the German who missed his flight.
Just one word of warning, don’t take what you get as being representative of that country’s cuisine in real life – if you do, there’ll be a lot more wars.
(Chuckles) No, I’m afraid there’s one true universal there, but one not even Pablo Sanchez would be happy to note the existence of. Just what
is the deal with aeroline food—
(Cut in recording due to editing)[[7]
…and then I said “That’s funny, it couldn’t do that before!”
(Uproarious laughter and applause that goes on for several seconds) No, really. I should say it was fine afterwards and I was walking normally again after a week. He and I actually became good friends. He’s now working as a security guard at Versailles, stopping foolish tourists from sneezing on
De Nachtwacht.[8] Which I think is still a more pleasant job than aeroport security.
Where was I? Oh yes. There are many social faux pas to avoid when travelling, though many people will be understanding if you just try to be respectful and make it clear you are a visitor. But, as I was saying, many things that seem as though they are ‘obviously the only way one could do’ something, you’ll find, have very different approaches overseas. Tipping is an obvious one. France is one of several countries where it remains purely discretionary – a real Aryan Void situation, where you just sort of have to guess what’s polite in that circumstance.[9]
(Audience reaction) Of course, the same thing happens in reverse, too. French travellers – and English and German – routinely get into trouble here, or in New York, Boston or Chichago, because they think you can tip whatever you please. It’s not just that they leave your big restaurants without completing the tip section of the cheque – they also sometimes try to tip convenience-diner waitresses
(Audience reaction) Well, they don’t really have that distinction between the two types of eateries in their countries, and they don’t get that it can be seen as an insult, like they’re implying the unions haven’t got them good wages to start with. In one case this poor fellow from Leipzig even got accused of trying to bribe his waitress for – well, enough of that. Suffice to say, things are different, and do your research before you get there.
How you get around is also a big difference. European cities typically grew up by an organic process over centuries, so they have narrow, winding streets that don’t have any logical layout. There are a handful of Arc of Power cities here, and some farther south in Mexico, which are like that, but not many. Here, the grid design was popularised as far back as the mid-eighteenth century. It wasn’t even new then, being used by the Greeks and Romans in antiquity, and a few European cities were built with it in the Middle Ages, but it never caught on there. Try to be sensitive and be prepared to be patient about trying to figure out where everything is. Or, even better, just get a metercab.
That’s the other thing about a lack of grid systems – they’re not a good fit for trams. It could be made to work – actually there were some quite extensive steam-tram networks in European cities in the past – but the armchair alienists tell us that Europeans have all got a complex about Jean de Lisieux trying to centralise everything, and want the freedom to drive around the city in their mobiles. Even when the streets get clogged up. Really, it’s more just that it proved such a challenge to put in the electric power grid when steam-trams got succeeded during the 1930s, and a lot of the schemes ran out of money and were never finished – remember this was after the Black Twenties. Whereas over here, our grids meant that it was easy to put in overhead lines, and update them when needed, while keeping the same rails we’d had for the steam-trams. So in Europe, expect to travel on a lot of multis [buses] instead. China’s done a better job with trams; they may sometimes have the same problems of very old city layouts, but they adopted trams later and were able to design the networks for electricity from the first.
What about getting from city to city? Well, if we’re talking about the big places, you won’t notice that much difference to here – except maybe that the trains are a bit more punctual.
(Chuckles) Paris to Marseilles, say, is straightforward and now takes less than six hours. Remember, though Europe as a continent is decent-sized, individual countries are a lot smaller and you often spend as much time in customs on borders as you do riding the train. Contrast with China, where they’ve now abandoned internal passports and you can ride those fast new trains of theirs to cross the whole country in barely more than half a day. Where things get a bit different is in reaching smaller places off the beaten track. Europe has struggled to build and maintain the kind of low-level branching networks we take for granted here – remember, when land claims might go back centuries, it’s a lot harder to buy places to put the rails.[10] China has a similar problem, if not as severe. So it’s back to the multis – unless you want to brave renting a mobile and learning the local traffic laws! – to get around.
Now, riding a multi, or a train or tram for that matter, will need a few things you’ll probably take for granted at home. It’s easy to miss these off your mental tick-list so make sure you think through the process in advance. What do you do – you get on the vehicle, the conductor comes, you decide what type of ticket or pass you want, and you pay for it. Well, first of all, in some places you’re expected to buy in advance at the station rather than on the vehicle, so make sure which it is! But even if it does work the way you’re used to, why, you’re taking for granted the fact that you know what tickets and passes are available, and – this is a big one – how money works.
(Audience reaction) Easy to forget, isn’t it? But, I hate to break it to you, not every country uses good old I.d.c – despite what the financial markets might make you think.[11] A lot of countries have only two tiers of coins, some aren’t decimal, many use paper money in contexts where we’d find it inappropriate or vice-versa. And obviously don’t expect your credit plaques to work unless your bank specifically has a deal with one in that country – it’s best to assume by default that they won’t. You can get around this with a special temporary traveller’s plaque which some banks will supply you with; some are now even looking at renting quist nodes for emergency calls. Pretty soon our businessman will find their troubles following them wherever they go.
(Chuckles)
And I’ve left out one big thing, of course. Even if you know how the tickets work and how the money works, you need to be able to communicate with the conductor. Language is a minefield. You know it’s a touchy subject with the ASN. Again, I think the more extreme attitudes do more harm than good. I once saw a Frenchman trying to speak to a Siamese gentleman and some Bisnagi locals in Trivandrum, and the only language they had in common was…Novalatina.
(Audience reaction) Exactly. Not exactly doing your job of countering Societism if you end up promoting their language, are you.
Of course, all reputable tour companies will include a professional interpreter, which saves you difficulties. If you’re travelling privately and want to employ an interpreter in a private capacity, just be warned and take advice before choosing one, as there’s a lot of unscrupulous people out there. Look for a company which is based in your destination of choice, but which has a subsidiary desk in the ENA, if only so you can find someone to sue afterwards.
(Laughter) Sometimes I think we’re all turning into Californians. I wouldn’t recommend resorting to that old standard of the comic tourist in farces, the foreign phrasebook. Pronunciation is often difficult – especially for Chinese – and the books are very variable in quality. Italian ones in particular tend to include mistakes that will leave you embarrassed. There’s some rumour that deliberate mistakes were introduced because of one of those arcane ASN rules, but I personally just think the Italian phrasebook writers enjoy watching tourists make fools of themselves.
Well, anyway, despite all the proscriptions and difficulties, you may find a surprising number of people around the world speak English regardless. Why? Well, funnily enough, it’s not just Californian media – whatever languages that’s supposed to be in – which is popular worldwide. Our films and motoshows are often considered to be the epitome of quality and something to be emulated. Yes, I was surprised as well.
(Laughter) They must be exporting all the good stuff and leaving me with the rest on
my network channels. Of course you must remember that a location a show is sert in that feels everyday to us may be exotic and interesting to someone from another clime, and vice-versa.
It can be really hard to predict which shows may be popular in which countries, sometimes it seems really arbitrary and random. Oh, you’ve got your old colonial links, like Bengal tends to enjoy Billy Jackton Frontier films, and Bengali filmmakers even make their own versions set on their own frontier during Jihad days.[12] But there’s also some quite unexpected ones. If you thought only Philly viewers kept “My Two Daughters” still going, well, it has a huge following of fans in Thonburi, in Siam.
(Audience reaction) Yes, really. Don’t ask me why. I’m sure Mary Theresa will get married any day now.
(Chuckles) Bangalore, over in Bisnaga, prefers “The Family Otto” from Chichago. I could give you a dozen more. Sometimes I worry what image of the good old E of NA we’re putting out there with people judging us by these shows…
That reminds me of something important, actually. One thing travel broadens is your appreciation for how complex a place the world is. It’s easy for us to reduce other countries to stereotypes – the hard-working, hard-playing Chinese, the anxious German, the enterprising Egyptian. In reality the world is a far more richer place, with as many varieties of spirit among the people of any nation as those you see in your own street. But we tend to judge whole peoples by the simplistic pictures we obtain from depictions in film and motoshows. What becomes an unpleasant shock, however, is when you realise that the same is true in reverse. As an American travelling abroad, you may find yourself being judged by association with whatever American media your hosts may have seen or read. Sometimes it may not even be a work you’re familiar with, like the cases I mentioned of the shows which are surprisingly possible in seemingly-random places. You know the phrase ‘no man is a prophet in his hometown’,[13] well, there can be cases like that, too. Let me tell you about one that happened to me recently.
It first happened in France, but then happened to me again in Mysore, in Bisnaga, and I heard something about it in Espérance in Pérousie – evidently the work I’m going to mention has been released recently with French subtitles, and it might spread further. So in, I think it was, 2008, a fellow called Ivan Red Eagle Gartreaux – no prizes for guessing where he’s from – wrote a book called
The Road is Long and Paved with Tears, which was a dramatised account of the history of Superia’s fight for independence.
(A small reaction from the audience) It was well-received by historians and made a small splash in the more popular markets, but you could be forgiven for not hearing of it. However, in 2011 a playwright from Milwark named Jacob Ironborough thought that the book had potential for being turned into a stage play – shedding some of its historical accuracy, I might add.
Ironborough had a good script, and trialled the play in small showings in his local theatres in Milwark and Chichago, making changes. Finally, he recruited the cast he needed, and was ready to launch it on Nassau Street.[14] In October 2012.
(Audience reaction) Yes, exactly. The Hyperflu hit the city just after a favourable opening night, and then all the theatres were closed down. Ironborough was devastated, and wouldn’t you be. The cast drifted apart and he moved on to other projects.
That might have been the end, but a couple of years ago, Émile Boisserie – the French film director, you may have heard of him – approached Ironborough to resurrect the script and convert the stage play into a film. I should state that film-plays are more popular in the French-speaking world than they are here; if you’ve not seen one, basically picture a radio play but with pictures.
(A few chuckles) Aydub, that sounded more obvious than I thought…
Even though it’s been made for the French market, Boisserie has a bee in his bonnet about making things ‘authentic’, whatever that means, so all the characters speak English – except when they’re natively speaking French, Russian, Lakhotiyapi and other Tortolian languages, or Superian Pidgin, of course. It’s all done with French subtitles. This does have the unfortunate consequences that all the French-speakers I spoke to on my trip assumed that this was a film which had already been successful in the ENA, and was now being shown elsewhere. They refused to believe me when I told them that it had not actually been shown in film-theatres here. This was a problem, because they were judging me and this country for how the film depicts it, and I had no idea what they were referring to, to respond to their points.
I have since seen it, so to save you running into the same trouble,
(A few chuckles) here’s a quick rundown. It’s based on historical events, but, like I said, plays a bit fast and loose with the details for drama. As you hopefully remember from school, Superia existed as an independent republic before the 20th century, but was effectively taken over and divided with Russia after the Pandoric War. In the Black Twenties, the whole of what was then Russian America was taken and controlled by the Empire. This was easier than it might have been because Prince Yengalychev, the Russian commander, realised that he was being hung out to dry by Tsar Paul and told to fight to the death, in plague conditions no less, just to slow us down. Out of compassion for his men and the Russian civilians in the area, he refused, taking full responsibility, and surrendered to General Dawson.[15] Later, with our troops in Kamchatka facing reversals and the Societist invasion of Carolina
(Audience reactions) Yengalychev negotiated with President Washborough from a surprisingly strong position for a surrendered prisoner of war. Yengalychev’s men would help with the logistics of bringing General Bissell’s men back from Kamchatka, before they could be trapped by the Tsar’s men, and then in sending them east to fight the Societists.[16] In return, Washborough had pledged to support Yengalychev’s call for the one and a half million Russian subjects of the former Russian America to be granted autonomy, rather than folded into an existing Confederation.
Now Washborough is sometimes a divisive figure
(Muted audience reaction) but one thing he indubitably was, was a man of honour. He had made his promise to Yengalychev, and it did not matter that the Yengalychev’s men were in a much weaker position to negotiate once the war was over. Washborough called for their autonomy throughout the Marley presidency, not a popular position or one that won him many friends, but he fought for it in Parliament. He often compared it to how Carolina had been left to decay into somnolence and vulnerability by indecision in Government. As I hope you remember from your civics classes, Washborough became President in 1931 and implemented the voting reforms we all enjoy today. He was also able to pass the Baranovia Autonomy Act in 1933.
‘Baranovia’, a name which we often pretend today has always been there, was actually hastily made up to try to find one that would be palatable to the American electorate. One could no longer call the area Russian America (and besides, the autonomous area was only a small part of the land, the rest remaining under Imperial control) and the names of its individual components were too evocative of Russia itself and the Tsar’s regime. Names like Novorossiya and New Muscovy (the most populous former province) were rejected, though you still occasionally see them in old sources. Baranovia won out over two other B-names named after early RLPC explorers and merchants, Beringia and Benyovskaya.[17] It took a while to gain cachet among the people themselves. The great irony was that Baranovia did not actually control the coastal city of Baranovsk at that time, with it remaining under Imperial occupation – the authorities had no intention of the Tsar smuggling weapons in for any group that might try to launch an uprising. Baranovsk would be a landlocked country, at least for the present, and one whose foreign and economic policy were firmly set by Fredericksburg.[18]
All fine and good, but this reopened, or intensified, another long-running dispute. Nobody was happy with what they called President Tayloe’s Folly, the old Panimaha Confederation, which tried to put together a lot of areas in the interior with the troublesome Superia Tortolian and creole peoples. The old Confederation was this great big huge strangely-shaped thing that had never functioned properly even at the best of times. Not that a diverse Confederation can’t be made to work, of course, just look at Westernesse and how it brought together white farmers and miners with black rivermen and city folk to make the fine land it is today.
(A few cheers from the audience) But Panimaha had never been made to work, it was a botch job that just barely held together enough to fool the politicians into thinking a problem had gone away. The problems that they’d had shifting troops across the country to fight the Societists in the War of 1926 – that was mostly sabotage, but it was also that old Panimaha’s infrastructure had never worked properly at the best of times. How could it, when the government refused to even speak to itself in a common language? How could one confederation stretching from Lake Winipick to St Joseph in North Arizpe possibly function?[19]
With the Russians of Baranovia given autonomy, of course, the Superians began demanding the same – and the southern Panimahans were all too eager to be rid of them, as well as struggling with other divisions. Though widely criticised by some, Washborough grasped the nettle and split Panimaha into three. The name Panimaha was retained by the middle, landlocked Confederation, the one we know today. In the south, the mostly Spanish-speaking lands became the Confederation of New Navarre, a revival of an old Spanish name reflecting a significant number of Basque colonists there.[20] Washborough favoured smaller and more functional Confederations, something that was contentious among the older, more established and more populous Confederations. Given the greater support of his party among rural and western voters, some Patriots and Supremacists even accused him of trying to pack the House of Lords with additional Pioneer-voting Lords Confederal.
Sorry, I’m getting too much into the detail here. The important thing is that Washborough split old Panimaha into three not because of the wishes of the Superian people, who yearned for their old independence, but to appease the farmers of present Panimaha and to try to make the government more functional. Like I said, he didn’t always make friends for himself. By setting a precedent of allowing existing land bodies to be split out of a kind of sop to self-determination – reflecting the growing Diversitarian values of the age – these actions helped kick off the Canajun Question in New Ireland. That’s something else French-speakers sometimes hold against us.
Getting back to my point – the film. Which is actually quite good, by the way…the film depicts Superians campaigning for their freedom and getting disappointed, Washborough’s cabinet meetings…all told through the lens of ordinary families, Tortolians, Métis creoles, even Dashwood relatives…kids falling into the wrong gangs and getting beaten up by the police…
(Audience reaction) The bathos is that at the end, after all that, Superia finds herself separated from old Panimaha – what was that, 1936 – but she’s still a Confederation of the ENA, still subservient to Fredericksburg. She doesn’t have even the symbolic autonomy of the Russians in Baranovia. And, well, kids, ask your grandparents about what happened as a result of that. The film isn’t shy about introducing an audience to all the atrocities – on both sides –
(Emotional reaction from audience) – that would plague this continent for three decades, off and on, before the Superia Brushfires were brought to a close. There is an epilogue set in 1970 when the Republic was finally granted independence. I won’t spoil the details, it is worth watching as a piece of art, regardless of your politics.
(Sceptical sounds)
But where was I – oh yes. Don’t be put off when I talk up the difficulties, that’s the last thing I want. Travelling to places like Europe, China, Pérousie, Mexico, Siam, today, is a lot easier than I make it sound. Even Egypt, Persia, Bengal, Bisnaga. There are some special considerations for, say, Guinea, Gavaji or Autiaraux, but ultimately things are better for travellers than they’ve been for a long time.
But maybe you’re not satisfied with that. Maybe you want a
real adventure.
(Audience reaction) Well, you haven’t heard of me because I’ve sat in all those aeroline alighting-lounges over the years.
(Chuckles) Let me tell you what it’s like visiting the Former Zones as a tourist-
*
(Dr Wostyn’s note)
Give me back that thing, you foolish
rosbif, nobody wants to hear about that idiot’s travel journals.
(Pause) Same to you.
(To microphone) My apologies for that interlude, sir, but I now have the necessary extracts prepared. Now it’s time to talk about how the French Empire finally crumbled – and how Diversitarianism became the dominant ideology we see around us in this timeline today…
[1]
(Lt Black’s note) We don’t normally comment on different pronunciations in this transcript or we’d be here all day, but it may be worth mentioning that Mr Cooper pronounces ‘tomatoes’ as ‘tommer-toes’ and ‘pizza’ as ‘pizzer’ to rhyme with ‘fizzer’.
[2] ‘Gurangue’ (rhymes with ‘meringue’) is the most usual word used in TTL English for kangaroos. It is derived from the Dharug language word ‘baragarang’, borrowed via French and abbreviated.
[3] See Part #278 in Volume VIII.
[4]
(Lt Black’s note) Given that ‘carytic steerable’ essentially translates to ‘atomic dirigible’ or ‘nuclear airship’ in our terminology, it’s interesting to hear that this timeline shares some of the same clichéd stereotypes of technological dead-ends wrongly foreseen by past generations of attempted prophecies of the future – or, at least, that seems to be the implication.
[5] The term ‘doughnut’ is also used more generally in TTL (though
ring-shaped doughnuts are not well known) but ‘oilcake’, an anglicisation of Dutch
olykoek, is used to signify a particular variety from New York which has a reputation for being of superior quality.
Boeuf quéralien refers to the dish known in OTL as Kerala Beef Fry or ‘Beef Ularthiyathu’, which has become popular in France due to the colonial connection to Bisnaga (south India).
[6] The word ‘botch’ is also present in American English in TTL but has a slightly different meaning, closer to the related British English word ‘bodge’; both terms imply a hasty, incompetent repair job, but the OTL American term tends to emphasise the incompetence whereas the OTL British (and TTL American) term emphasises the fact that it’s still implied to have worked. In TTL, this word has become the preferred term used by ypologists (computer programmers) to signify a hasty, messy, but functional fix to computer code. Then, by loose connection, a ‘botcher’ is an expert on coding, like ‘hacker’ in OTL. By a similar process of broadening of meaning as OTL, ‘botch’ is now used more generally to signify shortcut or useful trick, like ‘life hack’ in OTL, which is the meaning that Cooper is using.
[7]
(Lt Black’s note) Not
every cultural parallel to our world is worth exploring, I feel.
[8] ‘Versailles’ here signifies the art museum built on the site of the old palace (destroyed during the French Revolution) partly incorporating structures already built there for the 1884 Paris WorldFest (see Part #266 in Volume VII). The lack of a Napoleonic Wars in TTL’s history means that France’s national art collection is not so impressive as OTL, but they did mysteriously acquire a great number of of Dutch Masters (including Rembrandt’s
The Nightwatch) in the aftermath of occupying parts of Belgium during and after the Black Twenties.
[9] ‘Aryan Void’ in this context (referring to the long lawless period in northern India following the Great Jihad) is intended to imply a similar meaning as ‘Wild West’ in OTL, i.e. ‘every man for himself and no rules are enforced’.
[10] A significant difference to OTL is that railway development in Europe was mostly delayed until after the Popular Wars, after which point some societies had become more democratic and it became harder to forcibly buy up land to build railways.
[11] I.d.c = slang for ‘Imperials, dixies, cents’, the currency structure of the ENA (1 imperial is worth 10 dixies, 1 dixie is worth 10 cents).
[12]
(Lt Black’s note) Cooper doesn’t really talk about these places having their own film and TV, I mean Motoscope, industries, only how they interact with American ones. I suspect this says more about the audience he’s aiming his talk at than the countries. ‘Frontier films’ appear to be similar to what we’d call Westerns.
[13] A paraphrase of Christ’s words Matthew 13:56 “A prophet is not without honour except in his own town and his own home” (also recounted in Mark 6:4 and quoted in John 4:44). As in OTL, this phrase is often quoted to describe cases of a person or their work which is widely respected outside their own home town or country, but little known within it.
[14] ‘Nassau Street’ has the same metonymic implication as ‘Broadway’ in OTL, being the centre of ATL New York’s theatre district.
[15] See Part #284 in Volume VIII.
[16] See Part #298 in Volume VIII.
[17] Associating Bering with the RLPC is, of course, anachronistic.
[18] Baranovia roughly corresponds to a loose trapezium shape whose corners are (OTL) Abbotsford, BC in the southwest, Houston, BC in the northwest, Medicine Hat, AB in the southeast, and Smoky Lake, AB in the northeast. Essentially, the Americans tried to draw the line that would put the most Russians in the smallest box possible, but the Russian colonists are so widespread that this proved difficult. (Although a lot were ‘encouraged’ to leave areas outside this, such as Alyeska, and move there).
[19] I.e. from Lake Winnipeg to Guaymas, Sonora, Mexico.
[20] In OTL terms, the new, reduced Panimaha roughly corresponds to most of Montana and Wyoming, the western halves of North and South Dakota, all of Nebraska, and smaller parts of Colorado and Utah. Its capital remains Flatwater Station (OTL Omaha, NE). New Navarre corresponds to most of Utah as well as Arizona and Sonora. Its capital is the aforementioned St Joseph, reflecting its strategic importance as a naval base (it has been much more built up than the rest of the territory since Imperial takeover).
