Our Fair Country: The Commonwealth of New England
- Thread starter CosmicAsh
- Start date
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Time for my first post! This is the beginning of what I hope will be a long series in OFC. This will go over the history and coasters of New England's largest amusement park, Lake Compounce, located in Bristol, CT. Note: ITTL, Six Flags does not buy Riverside Park in Agawam, MA. Therefore, with a hole in New England from Six Flags, and the knowledge that Lake Compounce (Now to be referred to as LC) is three times larger than it is IOTL, I am saying that LC is owned by Cedar Fair, the owner of Cedar Point, Kings Island, Kings Dominion, and many other parks across IOTL's US and Canada.
The history of LC is basically the same, except that in 1994, at the beginning of their expansion period, Cedar Fair bought the current park and the surrounding 700 acres to bring its total size to 1,000 acres, where it stands today. at this time, there were two coasters at LC: Wildcat, which was built by Philladelphia Tobbagan Coasters in 1927, and the Kiddie Coaster, which was built by Molina and Sons in 1990 (1997 IOTL). To christen the park into the chain, Cedar Fair is planning something huge: a new Morgan Hyper on the side of a lake, to be the tallest ever built.
More to come over the next few weeks!
The history of LC is basically the same, except that in 1994, at the beginning of their expansion period, Cedar Fair bought the current park and the surrounding 700 acres to bring its total size to 1,000 acres, where it stands today. at this time, there were two coasters at LC: Wildcat, which was built by Philladelphia Tobbagan Coasters in 1927, and the Kiddie Coaster, which was built by Molina and Sons in 1990 (1997 IOTL). To christen the park into the chain, Cedar Fair is planning something huge: a new Morgan Hyper on the side of a lake, to be the tallest ever built.
More to come over the next few weeks!
The I-191/NH-211 Border Crossing officially called the Peace Bridge Crossing, is the most heavily trafficked border crossing in North America, with millions of crossings each year. The border rests between the Town of Greenwich, Connecticut and the City of Port Chester, New York. The neighbourhood of Riverside on the New England side is more closely aligned with Port Chester across the Byram River than with the rest of the town of Greenwich, as both are heavily urbanised compared to the much more suburban town of Greenwich. Riverside, officially designated as the region south of the Prince of Wales Motorway and west of the neighbourhood of Belle Haven, has a population of 14,530. Port Chester, which is bordered by the City of Rye and the Town of Rye, has a population of 46,230. Combined with the City and Town of Rye combined have a population of 124,423, making the American side of the border far more populous than the New England side.
The region is known for its extreme concentration of wealth, the New Haven Railroad line runs directly through the region, and people on both sides of the border will take the train into New York City or Brooklyn each morning. The New England Parkway/Prince of Wales Motorway is the largest transnational stretch of highway in North America, with twelve lanes of traffic running from the city of New Haven in New England to the City of Westchester in the United States. Due to its location, the border crossing is party to the Tri-City Agreement, which carves exemptions for New Englanders and Americans to enter the United States and New England respectively. Despite the relative ease of transportation between the two countries, at the urging of the United States, the Peace Bridge Crossing is the only motor vehicle connection the two share in Westchester/Fairfield Countries except the Rye Lake Crossing further north.
Besides the New England Parkway (I-191) and the Prince of Wales Motorway (NH-211), the region is also serviced by the Poughkeepsie Expressway (I-295). U.S. 1 previously ran to Rye, but the opening of the New England Parkway caused the federal government to end U.S. 1 at Mamaroneck.
This was super fun to make! If anyone has any place in New England they'd like to see a similar Google Maps view of, I'd totally do it!
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@VT45
The City of Newburyport is a municipality located in Essex County in northern Massachusetts Bay along the Merrimack River. The city sits on National Highway 573, the Maritimes Turnpike, which is the main North-South route between New England's capital city of Boston and Halifax, Nova Scotia. Massachusetts Provincial Road 113 also runs through the city. The city's economy is deeply connected to its status as a maritime port, the New England Coast Guard and Royal New England Navy maintain facilities in the city, but is also host to a robust recreational boating industry, along with a commercial fishing industry. The Newburyport Shipyard is responsible for the construction of smaller coast guard vessels, and is mostly known for its construction of recreational yachts and vessels. The city has a population of over twenty-five thousand people. Besides its heavy maritime connections, Newburyport's economy also heavily relies upon tourism, as people flock to view its historic waterfront and downtown. The city has two train stations, one in the western portion of the city for New England Rail, with service across the country. The BMATA station in downtown Newburyport is the penultimate stop on the Portsmouth Line, which offers commuter service into the City of Boston. It takes forty-five minutes to travel from Newburyport to downtown Boston by BMATA, and fifty minutes without traffic on NH-573. Newburyport is in Zone 11 of the BMATA schedule of fares.
The City of Newburyport is a municipality located in Essex County in northern Massachusetts Bay along the Merrimack River. The city sits on National Highway 573, the Maritimes Turnpike, which is the main North-South route between New England's capital city of Boston and Halifax, Nova Scotia. Massachusetts Provincial Road 113 also runs through the city. The city's economy is deeply connected to its status as a maritime port, the New England Coast Guard and Royal New England Navy maintain facilities in the city, but is also host to a robust recreational boating industry, along with a commercial fishing industry. The Newburyport Shipyard is responsible for the construction of smaller coast guard vessels, and is mostly known for its construction of recreational yachts and vessels. The city has a population of over twenty-five thousand people. Besides its heavy maritime connections, Newburyport's economy also heavily relies upon tourism, as people flock to view its historic waterfront and downtown. The city has two train stations, one in the western portion of the city for New England Rail, with service across the country. The BMATA station in downtown Newburyport is the penultimate stop on the Portsmouth Line, which offers commuter service into the City of Boston. It takes forty-five minutes to travel from Newburyport to downtown Boston by BMATA, and fifty minutes without traffic on NH-573. Newburyport is in Zone 11 of the BMATA schedule of fares.
Known as the Twin Cities, the Edmundston-Madawaksa region is home to over one hundred and fifty thousand people, and the largest population centre in northern New England. Edmundston, despite being chartered as a city, has a smaller population than the town of Madawaska, although it contains the majority of the professional jobs for the metro region. It is also home to Edmundston Station, which is the southern terminus for Via Rail's Maritimer and a stop on New England Rail's Quebec City Limited. The region is also served by the Boston & Maine Railroad for freight shipping. Despite its isolated position, Madawaska is a major industrial centre, employing nearly ten thousand people in metal stamping, CNC machining, as well as being the location of New England's largest small arms manufacturer, Colt, only plant outside of Connecticut. Both municipalities are the shire town of their counties (Madawaksa, New Brunswick and Aroostook, Maine).
French is the native language of 90% of the region's population, but English is the main language of the neighbourhood of New Buckenham, where the majority of the region's English speakers live. There is also a small English community in Boudeville, Madawaska. Both municipalities boast low taxes, but historically low property taxes in Madawaska led to a housing construction boom in the 1940s and again in the 1980s/1990s, which led the town to become more populous than Edumdston. Building and zoning restrictions led to offices being built in Edmundston and downtown being redeveloped to house mixed residential and office buildings. In 2017, ground was broken in Madawaska between Rue Saint Jean and Boulevard du Puimoisson on the Edmundston Airport, which has flights to Canada and other cities in New England planned using money from the Maritime Development Fund maintained by Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia.
National Highway 912 runs to the north of Edumdston, officially designated Autoroute du Québec, and the 91A spur connects downtown Edumdston with the National Highway grid. There is current a proposal to build a secondary spur to run into Maine through Madawaska to connect to the new Airport, allowing for easy traffic flow around the region. The Edumdston Light Rail Company also maintains two light rail lines along Rue de la Montagne /Rue Saint Jean (Linge Rouge) and a loop around downtown along Rue Henri VI, Rue Webster, and Rue Versailles (Lingue Bleue).
Former Prime Minister Felix Hébert was born in Madawaska and grew up in Edumdston, and served as a federal MP for the city for the 1940s and the 1950s. Today, Charles Theriault represents Madawaska and Dominic LeBlanc represents Edmundston, both members of Parti Francophone.
AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...
Hey guys! So here it is, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long-running serialized set of stories within the OFC universe entitled These Fair Shores. The series will cover the stories of a bunch of different characters in different parts of New England. Hopefully you enjoy!
Marianne Josephine Walker smiled at the customs agent like any normal U.S. citizen would, but on the inside she wanted to scream her lungs out. She had never been prone to fear before, but then again, she had never done something like this before. She knew she had screwed up in London, and she knew they had seen her face in Havana. What she didn’t know was whether the crew of the passenger ship had recognized her, or the inspection agents at the docks in Miami, or the car rental agency in Fort Lauderdale, or the waitress in Hamilton, D.C. who had given her a second look; Marianne never got second looks. The paranoia of not knowing who knew what inspired a new type of madness inside of her, a madness which she was entirely unused to. Out of this madness, she had abruptly changed plans and avoided the Tri-City Area border crossing into Brooklyn, discarding the E-Z Pass under a trash can in Philadelphia and picking up a fake U.S. passport from a contact in Newark. Now, this madness was making her sloppy, and she could feel it from the way it took her a second to register what the New England border guard had said.
“I’m spending the week with relatives in Providence,” she answered. Although she saw the man in the blue New England Border Services uniform enter something into the computer system, her mind was focused on her car, the rented Ford that this New Englander might ask to search at any moment. Don’t worry, Marianne, just stay focused. Don’t let your mind wander.
“And where will you be heading after that?” the agent asked.
This time, Marianne was too ready. “I’llbeheadinghometoEastTennessee,” she said, resisting the urge to cringe at her own failure to talk like a goddamn human being! Come on, keep it together, Marianne!
“Are you carrying any firearms or weapons which may be restricted or require a license?”
“No.” The first truth Marianne told the officer - taking such weapons on the flight to Havana would have been far too risky.
“Any fruit or other perishable goods which we should know about?”
“No.” Also true. She would have chuckled inwardly at how saintly she was being if she wasn’t so terrified.
The New Englander checked the passport again and frowned at it slightly. Marianne felt her heart drop.
Then the officer handed it back to her and said, “Ok, Miss Anderson, I’m going to ask you to please wait in your car on the side over there. An officer will come by to tell you when to leave.”
Marianne took the fictitious Marcy Anderson’s passport back with a polite “Thank you, have a nice day,” and tried not to floor it out of the gate.
In the side lot, Marianne watched out of the corner of her eye as a different customs agent “inconspicuously” inspected her car from a distance. Her hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, her fingers white as chalk.
The walkie-talkie in the cupholder crackled to life. “Hey, want to hear a funny joke?” a male voice said. “What-”
Marianne quickly turned the dial to the off position and avoided making eye contact with the New Englander walking towards her. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid, she thought as the customs agent, this one a female, approached the open window.
She turned to face the agent with a polite smile plastered on her face, her heart racing a thousand beats per second. She didn’t know if she was going to be asked to comply with a search or just going to be refused entry right then and there. Either way, she was sure she would not be entering the Commonwealth of New England today.
For a second, Marianne wondered what would happen if the customs agent did stop her. Worst case scenario was that she got refused entry, went back to Port Chester, got a new passport, maybe a facial makeover, and tried the border up near Albany in a few days, right?
No, the worst case scenario was that they marched her across the bridge to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection building, where she would be handcuffed, detained, and shut up in a prison for the rest of her life.
Unless she confessed right here. Broke down, started crying, explained how she was the victim of this plot. It might actually free her. Suddenly, the thought sounded appealing, and she smiled even wider.
The customs agent said, “You’re good to go.”
What?
No!
Not now that she had made her peace!
Marianne wanted to scream in her face, to tell her everything, to sob into her arms.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she replied, “Thank you, ma’am,” and pulled out onto NH-211, whereupon she drove ten kilometers above the speed limit all the way to New Haven.
It was only when she was approaching the New Haven Hotel that she saw the Valet service. “Hell no,” she muttered, and quickly flicked on her turn signal and parked in the hospital parking complex, right across the street. Then she stepped out, walked around to the trunk, checked to make sure that nobody else was around, and opened it. “No, I don’t want to hear a funny joke!” she screamed in her normal accent.
The man in the trunk grinned wolfishly at her. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you not like my sense of humor?”
“You could have ruined everything! You fucking dumbass, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life, you could have sent me to jail for the rest of my life! How’s that for a fucking joke?!”
“Hey, you’re the one who abandoned the original plan,” he said, climbing out of the trunk and laying the blanket he had been wrapped in over Marianne’s shoulder. “If we had just used the E-Z Pass, we wouldn’t have even needed to stop. But noooooo, you were so paranoid about how ‘that’s the obvious choice’ and ‘they’re probably on to us’ and all that other crap that’s so cliche it’s hilarious, especially coming from you. And whose fault is it that you got spotted in Havana?”
“At least I try to cover my mistakes! You think I wasn’t going to hear about Leningrad?” Marianne replied. “It’s like I’m babysitting a two-year-old, for fu-”
The man slapped her across the face, hard. For a moment, his face was the face of a killer. Then he smiled. “Jokes I can take,” he said, “but insults…” he wagged a finger, “those are too far. Don’t make me do that again.” He patted her cheek, exactly where his hand had left a red mark. Then he walked off towards the hotel. “And be careful with my bag,” he called back to Marianne.
The TV in the hotel room had all the things a normal hotel room TV had, including its own channel that did nothing but play music and display the hotel logo, as if trying to attract people to continue staying at the hotel which they were already staying at. The man flicked through the channels, passing by a few American shows, a Boston Bulldogs game, and some channels in French, before finally finding NECN, still airing recaps from the election four days earlier. “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about the so-called ‘irregularities’ in Long Island,” someone was saying.
“God, I hate that accent.” the man said. He turned the volume down. “Ah, that’s better,” he sighed in mock relief, and headed towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he told Marianne. “Want to join me?” he added, with a devilish grin.
Marianne snorted. “Pass,” she said, with as much disgust as she could muster.
The man shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Hey, you want some apizza for dinner? Frank Pepe’s isn’t far from here.” The bathroom door closed.
Sitting on the single queen-sized bed, Marianne grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in an act of subtle defiance. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
Instead she just sat shaking for half an hour.
Hey guys! So here it is, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long-running serialized set of stories within the OFC universe entitled These Fair Shores. The series will cover the stories of a bunch of different characters in different parts of New England. Hopefully you enjoy!
These Fair Shores
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
20/09/18
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
20/09/18
Marianne Josephine Walker smiled at the customs agent like any normal U.S. citizen would, but on the inside she wanted to scream her lungs out. She had never been prone to fear before, but then again, she had never done something like this before. She knew she had screwed up in London, and she knew they had seen her face in Havana. What she didn’t know was whether the crew of the passenger ship had recognized her, or the inspection agents at the docks in Miami, or the car rental agency in Fort Lauderdale, or the waitress in Hamilton, D.C. who had given her a second look; Marianne never got second looks. The paranoia of not knowing who knew what inspired a new type of madness inside of her, a madness which she was entirely unused to. Out of this madness, she had abruptly changed plans and avoided the Tri-City Area border crossing into Brooklyn, discarding the E-Z Pass under a trash can in Philadelphia and picking up a fake U.S. passport from a contact in Newark. Now, this madness was making her sloppy, and she could feel it from the way it took her a second to register what the New England border guard had said.
“I’m spending the week with relatives in Providence,” she answered. Although she saw the man in the blue New England Border Services uniform enter something into the computer system, her mind was focused on her car, the rented Ford that this New Englander might ask to search at any moment. Don’t worry, Marianne, just stay focused. Don’t let your mind wander.
“And where will you be heading after that?” the agent asked.
This time, Marianne was too ready. “I’llbeheadinghometoEastTennessee,” she said, resisting the urge to cringe at her own failure to talk like a goddamn human being! Come on, keep it together, Marianne!
“Are you carrying any firearms or weapons which may be restricted or require a license?”
“No.” The first truth Marianne told the officer - taking such weapons on the flight to Havana would have been far too risky.
“Any fruit or other perishable goods which we should know about?”
“No.” Also true. She would have chuckled inwardly at how saintly she was being if she wasn’t so terrified.
The New Englander checked the passport again and frowned at it slightly. Marianne felt her heart drop.
Then the officer handed it back to her and said, “Ok, Miss Anderson, I’m going to ask you to please wait in your car on the side over there. An officer will come by to tell you when to leave.”
Marianne took the fictitious Marcy Anderson’s passport back with a polite “Thank you, have a nice day,” and tried not to floor it out of the gate.
In the side lot, Marianne watched out of the corner of her eye as a different customs agent “inconspicuously” inspected her car from a distance. Her hands clutched the steering wheel tightly, her fingers white as chalk.
The walkie-talkie in the cupholder crackled to life. “Hey, want to hear a funny joke?” a male voice said. “What-”
Marianne quickly turned the dial to the off position and avoided making eye contact with the New Englander walking towards her. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid, she thought as the customs agent, this one a female, approached the open window.
She turned to face the agent with a polite smile plastered on her face, her heart racing a thousand beats per second. She didn’t know if she was going to be asked to comply with a search or just going to be refused entry right then and there. Either way, she was sure she would not be entering the Commonwealth of New England today.
For a second, Marianne wondered what would happen if the customs agent did stop her. Worst case scenario was that she got refused entry, went back to Port Chester, got a new passport, maybe a facial makeover, and tried the border up near Albany in a few days, right?
No, the worst case scenario was that they marched her across the bridge to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection building, where she would be handcuffed, detained, and shut up in a prison for the rest of her life.
Unless she confessed right here. Broke down, started crying, explained how she was the victim of this plot. It might actually free her. Suddenly, the thought sounded appealing, and she smiled even wider.
The customs agent said, “You’re good to go.”
What?
No!
Not now that she had made her peace!
Marianne wanted to scream in her face, to tell her everything, to sob into her arms.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she replied, “Thank you, ma’am,” and pulled out onto NH-211, whereupon she drove ten kilometers above the speed limit all the way to New Haven.
It was only when she was approaching the New Haven Hotel that she saw the Valet service. “Hell no,” she muttered, and quickly flicked on her turn signal and parked in the hospital parking complex, right across the street. Then she stepped out, walked around to the trunk, checked to make sure that nobody else was around, and opened it. “No, I don’t want to hear a funny joke!” she screamed in her normal accent.
The man in the trunk grinned wolfishly at her. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you not like my sense of humor?”
“You could have ruined everything! You fucking dumbass, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life, you could have sent me to jail for the rest of my life! How’s that for a fucking joke?!”
“Hey, you’re the one who abandoned the original plan,” he said, climbing out of the trunk and laying the blanket he had been wrapped in over Marianne’s shoulder. “If we had just used the E-Z Pass, we wouldn’t have even needed to stop. But noooooo, you were so paranoid about how ‘that’s the obvious choice’ and ‘they’re probably on to us’ and all that other crap that’s so cliche it’s hilarious, especially coming from you. And whose fault is it that you got spotted in Havana?”
“At least I try to cover my mistakes! You think I wasn’t going to hear about Leningrad?” Marianne replied. “It’s like I’m babysitting a two-year-old, for fu-”
The man slapped her across the face, hard. For a moment, his face was the face of a killer. Then he smiled. “Jokes I can take,” he said, “but insults…” he wagged a finger, “those are too far. Don’t make me do that again.” He patted her cheek, exactly where his hand had left a red mark. Then he walked off towards the hotel. “And be careful with my bag,” he called back to Marianne.
The TV in the hotel room had all the things a normal hotel room TV had, including its own channel that did nothing but play music and display the hotel logo, as if trying to attract people to continue staying at the hotel which they were already staying at. The man flicked through the channels, passing by a few American shows, a Boston Bulldogs game, and some channels in French, before finally finding NECN, still airing recaps from the election four days earlier. “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about the so-called ‘irregularities’ in Long Island,” someone was saying.
“God, I hate that accent.” the man said. He turned the volume down. “Ah, that’s better,” he sighed in mock relief, and headed towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he told Marianne. “Want to join me?” he added, with a devilish grin.
Marianne snorted. “Pass,” she said, with as much disgust as she could muster.
The man shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Hey, you want some apizza for dinner? Frank Pepe’s isn’t far from here.” The bathroom door closed.
Sitting on the single queen-sized bed, Marianne grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in an act of subtle defiance. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
Instead she just sat shaking for half an hour.
These Fair Shores
LAC DU PLACID, ADIRONDACK
24/09/18
“The sheer majesty of this wilderness is astounding! But there’s something… frightening in its grandness. The bleak splendors of these remote and lonely forests rather overwhelm me with my own sense of littleness. Its beauty is uplifting. But there seems to be another aspect of the wild: an indifference to human life, a merciless spirit of desolation takes no… no, wait… desolation which no man… which… which takes no… ok, what the hell does this say?” The growing chuckles around the room crescendoed into true laughter at this conclusion.
Exhaustion: it was in every muscle, every bone, every nerve in Arthur MacKenzie’s body. After boarding the midnight ferry from Brooklyn to Albany, which arrived at four, and after another two and a half hour drive north, the poor man had little more than ten minutes to rest before splashing water in his face, combing his hair, making a cup of coffee, and showing up promptly to the conference room of the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Lac du Placid. He may have been an actor, but not even he could pretend to feel rested.
“The line is ‘a merciless spirit of desolation which takes no note of man,’” a high-ranking crewmember which Arthur didn’t know explained, trying to hold back laughter himself.
“That’s not a sentence!” Arthur replied with false indignation.
The dying laughter increased again at this comeback.
In truth, the little grain of humor had released some of the heavy, exhausted atmosphere of the room. Everyone at the reading would have rather been in bed at this time. But Arthur had to admit that he was a little bit excited to finally get to read The Wendigo. He also had to admit that it was pretty good. Based on the novella by Algernon Blackwood, The Wendigo centered on a group of men hunting moose in the wilderness who found themselves hunted by the Wendigo, a cannibalistic creature from Algonquin folklore. The original story took place in northwestern Ontario at the start of the 20th century, but this adaptation shifted the location to central Adirondack, and did so without sacrificing the same feelings of isolation and hopelessness which were so prevalent in New England literature of that era anyways. Exploring the story through a different setting and a more historical lense made it feel more relevant. And the use of the terrifying, culturally alien creature as both a literal and a symbolic villain made it all the more impactful.
Arthur knew that none of this was coincidental. The film was written (and would be directed and produced) by his colleague and good friend, Joseph Forthright. Joseph had labored over it for three years, and it had been a labor of love. It was more than his brain child; he loved it like an actual child. Now that BBC New England had picked it up, it was finally being made, and Joe was ecstatic. He was also suffering from anxiety over it. He wanted every detail to be perfect, and was want to suffer from a panic attack whenever this didn’t occur. This left Arthur playing the placater a lot, and Arthur wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Arthur glanced around at his fellow actors. To his left was Harry Goldstein, a middle-aged Jewish actor, also a Brooklynite, who played Dr. Cathcart, an elderly Scottish psychologist who had written a book on Collective Hallucinations. Arthur himself played Cathcart’s nephew, a Scottish divinity student named Simpson, arguably the film’s lead. Arthur had been born and raised in central Connecticut, and spoke with a normal New England accent with slight Brooklyn overtones, but his own familial roots allowed him to do a very good Scottish accent.
Past Goldstein was Dannel Linch from the Vineyard, playing the part of Hank Davis, Dr. Cathcart’s guide. Arthur had worked with David a couple of times before, on some project or other; great guy, if maybe a little too talkative.
Beyond Dannel was Jean-Louis Benett, who played Joseph Défago, Simpson’s guide and a French Canuck. Although the character was Quebecois, Jean-Louis himself was actually an Acadian, hailing from northeast Vermont. Acadian actors, while not rare, were not very common either, and Jean-Louis’ performance at the reading was making it clear how good of a casting decision he was, so that Arthur was actually feeling slightly incompetent by comparison. Rumor had it that the Bennett family wasn’t too proud of their son, but Arthur was far too socially conscious to ask Jean about the story’s validity.
Finally, to Arthur’s right sat… nobody. Well, actually, a young blond woman was sitting on his right, reading the part of the one missing actor. The nametag read “Skenandoa Hensley,” and the person the tag referred to was meant to play the part of Punk, the “Indian” cook of the hunting party. In the original story, the portrayal of Punk wasn’t entirely racist per se, but it was a bit insensitive, and Arthur had been worried (terrified) that Joseph may not have fixed the issue. Fortunately, the character’s role in the story had been embiggened, and the character itself made far more appealing. Judging by his absence, though, Skenandoa may have had the same doubts as Arthur.
The laughter in the room was finally dying down. “Ok,” the crewmember who was clearly in charge said, taking a few deep breaths. “Ok, let’s go from, ‘But there seems to be…’”
Arthur knocked on Joseph’s hotel room door.
“If this is room service, alors vous devriez apprendre à lire un putain de signe ‘ne pas déranger’!”
“Be glad I’m not room service, or you would be bleeding to death right about now!”
The door opened. Joseph’s eyes immediately shot to the brown paper bag in Arthur’s hands. “For me?” he asked. Arthur nodded. “I don’t need your pity, Arthur,” he said. He glanced again. “What is it?”
“Bruegger’s,” Arthur replied.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Joseph said, grabbing the bag out of his hands and walking back to the desk. Arthur followed him, completely nonplussed: this was how Joseph got whenever he was stressed out. Which was always, now.
“Is it the BBC again?” Arthur asked.
“I just got off the phone with the executive dipshits in Boston. They’re pissing themselves about all the precious money I spent on holding the reading up here.”
Arthur smiled. “I can’t say I disagree with them entirely. The ferry ride wasn’t cool, Joseph.”
Joseph smiled back, a little apologetically. “Sorry about the commute. But it was important to have everyone up in Adirondack. I needed you all to… to feel it. To be surrounded by nature. It was necessary for the authenticity of it all.” He chuckled humorlessly. “But if I say as much to a Bostonian with a stick up his ass, he wonders what I’ve been smoking.”
“It might not be too late to get CBS New England to pick it up instead.”
Joseph snorted. “Absolutely not,” he said, “I’d much rather the BBC than them. At least the BBC can appreciate a tasteful horror movie. With CBS, I’d have to pack it full of jumpscares and gore just to keep the investors awake. Americans.”
“Americans,” Arthur agreed.
Joseph sighed. “Bostonians aren’t all bad, I suppose. My brother works for the government in Boston… but most of them are alright, I guess.”
Arthur laughed. “Tell that to Premier Bush.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to laugh. The release of tension felt good. “How did the reading go? I was too busy with Mr. BBC.”
“It was good. Jean-Louis is amazing!”
“I know! I can’t believe I found him!”
“Skenandoa didn’t show, though.”
“What?” Joseph didn’t ask it. He said it.
“He didn’t come.”
Joseph looked like he was about to start twitching. “What the fuck?” he said. “What the actual fuck?!”
“Joseph, calm do-”
“Who the fuck does he think he is, missing the reading without even giving a reason?! Does he think I don’t have other actors who could take his place?! Why the…” he paused. “What day is it?”
“The twenty-fourth,” Arthur replied, confused.
“No, what day is it?”
“Oh, Monday.”
Joseph nodded, looking past Arthur’s head, his eyes unfocused. “It’s First Nations Day,” he said.
Arthur sighed in understanding as Joseph, eyes closed, pinched the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. Suddenly, Joseph pounded his fist once against the desk, hard. Then he breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly. “Ok,” he said resignedly. “Alright, I have a phone call to make, so…”
Arthur took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he said. “I’ll see you later, ok?”
“Yeah, ok,” Joseph said wearily. “See you later.”
Arthur stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at his friend. Then he left Joseph to his work.
Last edited:
These Fair Shores
GRANBY, MASSACHUSETTS BAY
01/10/18
There were some mornings that John Taylor wished that the words “from dawn ‘till dusk” applied less to him. This morning, however, the saying was less applicable: it was not dawn that he awoke at, because dawn would not break for another two hours and seventeen minutes. It was 4:30 on a Monday morning, and Mr. Taylor did not want to wake up, but wake up he did. His morning routine was performed as mundanely and as linearly as usual, beginning with a trip to the toilet and ending with a piece of toast and a cup of tea, before running out the door at 5:19. The 5:25 southbound tram arrived at 5:26, a lack of punctuality which went unnoticed by the still sleepy John, and it was not until he was three minutes out from Chicopee (around 5:44) that he realized that the Springfield light-rail system was running almost exactly one minute late.
GRANBY, MASSACHUSETTS BAY
01/10/18
At 5:30, an hour after her husband, Melinda Taylor reluctantly woke up too. She too went about her routine, making two bowls of oatmeal alongside her cup of tea and wrapping the bowls in aluminum foil before hopping in her sudan at 6:28 and making her way across the Connecticut River to merge onto NH-229. She took the motorway all the way north to Greenfield, about an hour-long commute.
That her parents did these things before the crack of dawn was known by Sarah Taylor, but perhaps not entirely understood. Her generation was often accused of taking things for granted, and she, like the rest of her generation, resented these accusations with a fiery passion, but it may have been true that she didn’t thank her mother enough for the breakfast laid out for her in the morning. She certainly didn’t feel like thanking her ma, however, when she had to wake up at 7:40 AM to get the Little Devil ready for school. What the hell was the point of getting to start school so much later if all it meant was more misery and headaches?
It was this last thought which flew through her head in the single instant between waking up to her alarm screaming at 7:40 and waking up again, somehow, at 7:52. Then such thoughts were banished by the onslaught of a very familiar panic. “Shit,” she whispered to herself, suddenly wide awake, before throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed faster than she had ever moved before.
The Devil was awake already. Not only was he awake, he was already dressed in khaki shorts and a plaid buttoned shirt. His hair was uncombed, sure, but one couldn’t really expect a six-year-old to comb his own hair, could one?
“Come on, breakfast is ready,” Sarah growled.
Christian jumped up off his bed and ran into the dining nook, where his bowl of oatmeal sat waiting. Sarah sighed. She was lucky she had a brother who actually liked going to school. He had only been in the first grade for a week, and already he had received compliments from his teacher, whom Sarah was pretty sure that Christian had a crush on. He was going to grow up to be a nerd, she could see it already. Ah, well. There were worse things to grow up as.
Christian was already finishing by the time she followed him into the dining nook. He turned to her and smiled wide, letting his spoon plop back into his bowl with a metallic clang. Sarah grabbed his now empty bowl, placed the crumpled-up ball of aluminum foil inside it, and carried it off to the kitchen. She checked the time on her phone: it was 7:57. No time to fix his hair, just barely enough to get him to the bus stop.
They walked together, the twelfth grader and the first grader, out to the corner of Gladstone and Chicopee. The air felt charged with that cool autumn feel, an electric buzz which bespoke of perfect temperatures and beautiful foliage on their way before the onslaught of a brutal winter. The trees themselves were only barely beginning to show their reds and yellows and oranges, and the vast majority of them were still totally green. Nevertheless, Fall was here, and growing stronger every day, and the two children (for despite Sarah’s age, the early morning breeze made her a child at heart), felt as excited for its arrival as every New Englander since the days of Sir Daniel Webster; for one wasn’t really a New Englander if one didn’t have a special place in one’s heart for the Fall.
As they neared the end of the street, the bus pulled in and began to slow to a halt, prompting the two Taylor’s to break into a run. They were both laughing by the time they reached the double doors and Christian hugged his older sister goodbye. “Have a wicked fun time!” Sarah called after him as the doors shut with a hiss of pressurized air. Then the bus lurched off, and Sarah was left alone on the corner of Gladstone and Chicopee. Her smile faded as her fatigue returned.
As she walked back up the street, she briefly considered going back to bed. But she didn’t really feel all that tired anymore, and besides, she didn’t think she could be trusted to get up when her alarm went off. She sighed. Granby High School, here I fucking come, she thought.
Having Mrs. Myers for 20th Century European History 6th period was perhaps the cruelest joke the universe could give a student. Mrs. Myers was supposedly the greatest teacher in the school from periods 1-4, but she had landed with the most disrespectful class imaginable for 5th period, which made her somewhat more short-tempered and ill-humored for the end of the day. This was not only wicked awful for her 6th period students, it also made it impossible for them to listen to her other students rave about how amazing she was without feeling personally insulted by God.
Sarah hated the first week of school. It was nothing but a blur of syllabi and grading policies and the first inklings of introductory units designed to explain their classes in the broadest and most uninteresting terms possible. And in a Level 2, single semester elective like this class, that meant a Powerpoint presentation defining words like “War” and “Communism.”
Or at least it did the last time that Sarah had been paying attention. Now it seemed as if everyone was reading in their textbooks. Hastily, Sarah pulled hers out of her bookbag and opened it, only to realize that she had no idea what she was supposed to be reading. She glanced over at her neighbor, a small sophomore boy with glasses, to see what page he was on. The boy was reading page 52 intently, clearly enthralled. Sarah couldn’t really relate. She turned to page 52 as well, and made it to the words “Stalin’s Line” before she realized she was reading about the German-Polish Invasion of the Soviet Union. That can’t be right, she thought. That’s in, like, the 30’s. We’ve barely even covered the first decade of the century yet. She checked the sophomore’s book again, but the page number was definitely correct. Perplexed, she kept reading.
As it turned out, her suspicions were entirely valid. As the teacher came to the front of the class again, the sophomore hurriedly flipped back to page 9. The little shit, Sarah thought. And also, Was he reading ahead in his history textbook? Jesus Christ, what a fucking nerd. But the voice in her head said it with approval.
It was not that Sarah wasn’t studious; she was. She just didn’t care for history all that much. Her passion lay more in the sciences, where she had doubled up in previous years - part of the reason, perhaps, for her needing to make up history credits before graduating. And she prided herself in being a straight-A student. She just didn’t see how an A in 20th Century European History would help her get into MIT.
It was 5:33, and Sarah was taking people’s orders at the restaurant she worked at, when her boss suddenly tapped her on her shoulder. “You’ve got a phone call.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know, someone from the high school. Either a young male or an ugly fucking female. Sounds polite. I’ll get someone else to cover for you.”
Sarah took the call. “Hello?” she said.
“Hi, Sarah, it’s… wait, this is Sarah, right?”
“Yes?”
“Ok, good. Hi, Sarah, it’s Jake. I think you left your, uh, your textbook in class today, and I didn’t know when you wanted me to get it to you?”
“Whosit?”
“Jake. I sit next to you in History.”
“Oh, of course. Hey, Jake.” The sophomore. “Can you get it to me tonight?”
“Uhhh… sure, sure. How about I get over there in around ten minutes?”
“Thanks, that’d be awesome.”
“Awesome. See you in a few.”
“See you.”
Click.
Jake shivered in the cool night air outside the restaurant. “Here it is,” he said, handing her the worn, mercifully skinny textbook.
“Thanks,” she said. “Sorry to be annoying, I just need it for homework.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied.
Sarah peered around him at the car he was leaning against. It was empty. “You can drive?” she asked. “What grade are you in?”
“11th. Everyone says I look younger, though.”
“Great, I’m not the only one to make that mistake.”
Jake laughed. “Not by a long shot! Just this past year, I went to a restaurant, and the waiter asked my mar if I wanted a kid’s menu, for crying out loud!”
They both laughed; it was a good long laugh, the kind which lasts for several minutes, which subsided into awkward chuckling for Jake and an intermittent giggling for Sarah.
When they were finally finished, Sarah asked, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Fire away.”
“Why were you reading ahead today?”
Jake suddenly looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know people noticed that.”
“I only noticed because I was trying to see what page we were on. I learned a lot about the German-Soviet War, anyways.”
“Yeah, well at least that’s the interesting part. The answer to your question is that the whole introduction bit is wicked slow and I know it all already.”
“Ok. But I mean, why did you choose to read a different part of the textbook?”
Jake smiled. “Because history is interesting! Sure, the introduction parts can sometimes be boring, especially if it’s pretty basic stuff. But in general it’s wicked pisser.” He spoke with genuine enthusiasm in his voice, which Sarah felt as if it were contagious.
“Huh. I’m not a big history person myself. But what do you like so much about it?”
“I like…” he struggled to think for a second. “I like the details. Like, the personal details, you know? I like taking a look at the big picture, at this huge tapestry of so many different parts, and then to zoom in on one element, on one little thread in the big picture, and say ‘oh yeah, here’s where that thread started, and here’s where it ended and here’s what changed it in between, and here’s what it changed in between.’ And sometimes you can say ‘here’s how this thread changed me,’ but more often it’s ‘here’s how this thread could’ve changed me if I were someone else.’ And sometimes, when you’re really lucky, you take a step back again and say ‘wait a minute, I think I found a pattern,’ and you ask, ‘well, why is there this pattern?’ And when you figure it out, you start to see how other patterns got there, and with every step you take, you feel more and more like you know how the tapestry was made, like you’re figuring out the maker. And then…” he breathed, “then you get to feel wicked smart, ‘cause you figured something out.”
Sarah stared at him wide-eyed. She had never seen someone discuss something with so much passion, with so much clear interest and excitement. It was like history was an art form to him. She only enjoyed science because she was good at it, but this… this was love.
She wanted to tell him how beautiful that was, but all that came out was, “Huh.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I talk too much sometimes. Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s fine, really.”
“Thanks for asking me, though,” he said, inching back towards his car.
“No problem. Thanks for the book! Hey, do you want something to eat? A sub or a tonic or something?”
“No, it’s fine. And the book was nothing, really.” He sounded polite, but he clearly wanted to dive back into his vehicle. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
As the car pulled out of the car park, Sarah realized that she was still smiling.
As he pulled up to his own driveway, Jake realized the same thing.
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After reading @Alternate History Geek's timeline "Orange Tempest" I really wanted to write the effects here. This is totally not canon and just an exercise in a different writing style for me. Some of this (weather reports) are fully inspired (and lifted) by the original work. I would have asked permission to use it, however the author hasn't been online since 2016 
I doubt I will do more than this, it's a nice one off. Enjoy!
From the National Hurricane Center website (www.nhc.noaa.gov), 19 September 2010:
Hurricane IGOR
ZCZC MIATCPAT1 ALL
TTAA00 KNHC DDHHMM
BULLETIN
HURRICANE IGOR ADVISORY NUMBER 48
NWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL AL112010
1100 PM AST SUN SEP 19 2010
...CENTER OF HURRICANE IGOR PASSES DIRECTLY OVER BERMUDA...OVER 202 MPH WIND GUST REPORTED ON THE ISLAND...
SUMMARY OF 1100 PM AST...0300 UTC...INFORMATION
-----------------------------------------------
LOCATION...32.4N 64.8W
ABOUT 10 MI...15 KM NW OF BERMUDA
MAXIMUM SUSTAINED WINDS...170 MPH...275 KM/HR
PRESENT MOVEMENT...N OR 355 DEGREES AT 16 MPH...26 KM/HR
MINIMUM CENTRAL PRESSURE...917 MB...27.08 INCHES
WATCHES AND WARNINGS
--------------------
CHANGES WITH THIS ADVISORY...
NONE.
SUMMARY OF WATCHES AND WARNINGS IN EFFECT...
A HURRICANE WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
* BERMUDA
FOR STORM INFORMATION SPECIFIC TO BERMUDA...PLEASE MONITOR PRODUCTS ISSUED BY THE BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU.
DISCUSSION AND 48-HOUR OUTLOOK
------------------------------
AT 1100 PM AST...0300 UTC...THE CENTER OF HURRICANE IGOR WAS LOCATED NEAR LATITUDE 32.4 NORTH...LONGITUDE 64.8 WEST. IGOR IS MOVING TOWARD THE NORTH NEAR 16 MPH...22 KM/HR. A TURN TOWARD THE NORTHEAST WITH SOME INCREASE IN FORWARD SPEED IS EXPECTED ON MONDAY. ON THE FORECAST TRACK...THE CENTER OF IGOR WILL BE PASSING AWAY FROM BERMUDA OVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS...AND CONTINUE TO MOVE AWAY FROM THE ISLAND ON MONDAY.
MAXIMUM SUSTAINED WINDS ARE NEAR 170 MPH...275 KM/HR...WITH HIGHER GUSTS. IGOR IS A CATEGORY FIVE HURRICANE ON THE SAFFIR-SIMPSON SCALE. SOME WEAKENING IS LIKELY DURING THE NEXT 48 HOURS.
IGOR IS AN EXTREMELY LARGE HURRICANE. HURRICANE FORCE WINDS EXTEND OUTWARD UP TO 275 MILES...445 KM...FROM THE CENTER...AND TROPICAL STORM FORCE WINDS EXTEND OUTWARD UP TO 645 MILES...1040 KM. THE OFFICIAL WEATHER OBSERVING SITE IN BERMUDA RECENTLY REPORTED A SUSTAINED WIND OF 172 MPH...277 KM/HR...WITH A GUST TO 191 MPH...307 KM/HR. AN ELEVATED OBSERVING SITE IN BERMUDA RECENTLY REPORTED A WIND GUST TO AT LEAST 202 MPH...325 KM/HR...HOWEVER...THE SITE'S ANEMOMETER WAS DESTROYED BY THE WIND GUST BEFORE IT REACHED ITS PEAK INTENSITY...WHICH IS ESTIMATED AT APPROXIMATELY 210 MPH...340 KM/HR.
ESTIMATED MINIMUM CENTRAL PRESSURE IS 917 MB...27.08 INCHES.
HAZARDS AFFECTING LAND
----------------------
WIND...HURRICANE CONDITIONS ARE EXPECTED OVER BERMUDA THROUGH MONDAY. WINDS SHOULD BEGIN TO DIMINISH BY MONDAY AFTERNOON.
RAINFALL...IGOR IS EXPECTED TO PRODUCE ADDITIONAL RAINFALL ACCUMULATIONS OF UP TO 20 TO 30 INCHES OVER BERMUDA THROUGH MIDDAY MONDAY. THIS WILL BRING STORM TOTAL AMOUNTS TO BETWEEN 72 AND 80 INCHES OVER BERMUDA.
STORM SURGE...AN EXTREMELY DANGEROUS STORM SURGE IS EXPECTED TO CONTINUE TO PRODUCE MASSIVE COASTAL FLOODING ON BERMUDA. THE SURGE WILL BE ACCOMPANIED BY EXTREMELY LARGE AND DESTRUCTIVE WAVES...ESPECIALLY ALONG THE SOUTHERN COAST...SHIFTING TO THE NORTHERN COAST EARLY MONDAY MORNING.
SURF...LARGE SWELLS WILL CONTINUE TO AFFECT THE LEEWARD ISLANDS...PUERTO RICO...THE VIRGIN ISLANDS...HISPANIOLA...THE BAHAMAS...THE TURKS AND CAICOS ISLANDS...BERMUDA...THE EAST COAST OF THE UNITED STATES...NOVA SCOTIA...NEW BRUNSWICK...AND NEWFOUNDLAND THROUGH MONDAY NIGHT. THESE SWELLS ARE LIKELY TO CAUSE LIFE-THREATENING SURF AND RIP CURRENTS. PLEASE CONSULT PRODUCTS FROM YOUR LOCAL WEATHER OFFICE FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
NEXT ADVISORY
-------------
NEXT INTERMEDIATE ADVISORY...200 AM AST.
NEXT COMPLETE ADVISORY...500 AM AST.
$$
FORECASTER PASCH
NNNN
--------------------
Bulletin issued by Weather New England (www.weather.ne), 20 September 2010:
Hurricane IGOR
HMRNEN BVI02 SPTN
BES13 QVWS DDHHMM
BULLETIN
HURRICANE IGOR ADVISORY NUMBER 06
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND/ENVIRONMENT CANADA SPANISH TOWN B.V.I. BE03201ER
1100 PM NES MON SEP 20 2010
...IGOR HAS SHIFTED TRACK AFTER HITTING BERMUDA, TURNING TOWARDS NEW ENGLAND AND RAPIDLY GAINING STRENGTH...
CURRENT CONDITIONS
LOCATION...36.5N 65.5W
ABT 450KM N OF BERMUDA
ABT 670KM SE OF NANTUCKET PLYMOUTH
ABT 765KM S OF CAPE SABLE NOVA SCOTIA
MAX SUS. WIND 265KMH
MOVEMENT NW 320DEG 80KMH
MIN CENTRAL PRESSURE 923MB...DECREASING
WATCHES AND WARNINGS
====================
CHANGES WITH THIS ADVISORY...
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND HAS ISSUED A HURRICANE WARNING FOR ALL OF LONG ISLAND...CONNECTICUT...RHODE ISLAND...PLYMOUTH...EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY...NEW HAMPSHIRE...MAINE...NOVA SCOTIA...ALL MINOR OUTLYING ISLANDS OF NEW ENGLAND
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND HAS ISSUED A TROPICAL STORM WARNING FOR ADIRONDACK...WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY...VERMONT...NEW BRUNSWICK...PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
ENVIRONMENT CANADA HAS ISSUED A TROPICAL STORM WARNING FOR NEWFOUNDLAND
THE BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU HAS CHANGED THE HURRICANE WARNING FOR BERMUDA TO A TROPICAL STORM WARNING
SUMMARY OF WATCHES AND WARNINGS ISSUED BY WEATHER NEW ENGLAND
HURRICANE WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
*LONG ISLAND
*CONNECTICUT
*RHODE ISLAND
*PLYMOUTH
*EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY
*NEW HAMPSHIRE
*MAINE
*NOVA SCOTIA
TROPICAL STORM WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
*WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY
*ADIRONDACK
*VERMONT
*NEW BRUNSWICK
*PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
OUTLOOK
====================
IGOR WILL MOVE NORTHWEST AT 80KMH AND WILL TURN NORTH TUESDAY BEFORE MAKING A TURN NORTHEAST BY WEDNESDAY...WEATHER NEW ENGLAND...ENVIRONMENT CANADA...NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE...BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU...ALL CONVERGE ON IGOR MAKING LANDFALL ON NANTUCKET...MARTHAS VINEYARD...OR CAPE COD ON TUESDAY.
====================
Hurricane Igor remains the costliest, deadliest, and most notable natural disaster to have ever hit New England. The hurricane first hit the island of Bermuda before making a sudden and unexpected turn in its track. The small island did little to stop the ferocity and strength of the cyclone, and it barreled towards New England as a Category 5 Hurricane. While New England had always had hurricanes hit her shores, they were mostly ones that had already traveled through the United States or weakened to the point where the highest was only a Category 3.
The nation was not put into Igor's crosshairs until a few hours after it left Bermuda, and the threat of a Category 5 hurricane barreling down the country caused Prime Minister Kirk to issue mandatory evacuation orders for many of Plymouth's outlying islands. Plymouth's Government also issued a slew of evacuation orders down Cape Cod, but many choose to ignore the warnings. The Long Island Provincial Government moved important documents and years of historical proceedings to New Haven, Connecticut in anticipation of the storm, and the New England Navy was put to sea, heading south towards Chesapeake Bay.
From Thousand Year Storm: Hurricane Igor and its Aftermath, by Meryl Fitzgavin:
...The worst damage, of course, was on Bermuda, where the storm had been stronger and moving slower than at any of its other landfalls. Nearly every building on the islands was destroyed, and several of the smaller islands were completely wiped off the map, including, perhaps most sadly, Nonsuch Island, where, despite the precautions taken to protect the species after 2003's Hurricane Fabian, every single nest of the critically-endangered Bermuda petrel on the island chain was destroyed, dealing the already-rare species a crippling blow and playing an important role in the decision the following year to take several of the remaining pairs coming back to the devastated island cluster into captivity to ensure the safety of the chicks...
...Igor's sudden turn to the northwest and sudden, massive acceleration towards New England, defying the best and the brightest of the National Hurricane Center and Weather New England, was extensively studied to allow the humiliated forecasters to improve in future upon their abysmal performance in the face of Igor. In retrospect, the high-pressure system that had forced Igor to the west was easy to see, and in fact was taken into consideration when deliberating upon the likely path that Igor would take after moving to the north of Bermuda; the forecasters' fatal mistake, however, was to assume that Igor would hit the southeast side of the high-pressure area, and be forced east, whereas Igor actually came in far enough west to hit just above the system's southernmost point on its southwest side, and was consequently forced directly towards the New England coastline at a very high rate of speed...
From Rebuilding New England: The Duty of Empire, by Mark Walters:
...With a record breaking 18 metre storm surge, coastal New England was devastated. All minor islands of Plymouth were devastated, with all except Martha's Vineyard totally devoid of buildings and most settlements wiped off the map. The high winds hammered the buildings that were not swept away. Much of Cape Cod was devastated, with the popular LGBTQ+ resort town of Provincetown swept off the map by the storm surge. Downtown Plymouth was similarly hit, with the old Province House swept away in the floods. The damage to the Province was widespread, with only relatively unpopulated areas being located on higher ground, causing devastation in the low lying cities and towns. Plymouth itself was cut in twain after the powerful storm washed out part of the Cape's land mass, making the northern tip an island...
...The Federal Government evacuated Boston and moved to Albany, with the Provincial Government of Massachusetts Bay electing to evacuate to Springfield. With storm surges expected to swamp the entire capitol city, a full-scale panic erupted when the evacuation order was given just 35 hours prior to expected landfall. The government ordered every train car from Connecticut to assist in the evacuation of Boston, with the majority of the people being brought to shelters in both Worcester and Springfield. Many more were sent down into Hartford, which quickly overwhelmed the motorways and the rail lines. Prime Minister Kirk made hourly updates broadcast nationwide. Canadian Prime Minister Bill Graham and U.S. President Victor Ashe were in constant communication with the New England government...
...The devastation to Boston was immense. Much of the Back Bay was levelled and Beacon Hill was unrecognizable. The once proud symbol of New England Democracy, Parliament House, was destroyed by the 14 metre storm surge. The entirety of the Boston Underground was rendered unusable pending a cleanup, and several bridges collapsed and failed. Suburban Boston also had untold millions of pounds of damage inflicted upon it, and nearly every government building was destroyed in some capacity. The sole government department still in operation immediately after the storm was the Ministry of Health, located in Hartford, Connecticut...
...The storm then brought damage to New Hampshire and the Maine coast. Casualties were high among unsuspecting residents, the most notable of which was former Prime Minister George Bush and his wife, former Maine Lieutenant Governor Barbara Bush, whose who opted to remain at their home in Kennebunkport, Maine. The entire compound had been washed away by the storm surge...
...Igor also flattened several hundred coastal towns and villages across New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, where some rural Acadian and First Nation communities were hard hit and contact not made for several weeks after landfall...
...Prime Minister Kirk was unequipped to deal with the unfolding disaster. The Royal New England Navy was turned around after the storm passed, to help with relief efforts. With much of eastern New England's infrastructure destroyed, it was impossible to reach the hardest hit coastal cities and towns let alone rural areas. New England's poor airport network compounded problems, and the Prime Minister was forced to ask for aid from the United States...
...With all rail passenger cars in Connecticut for the evacuation of Boston, and rail services east of Worcester impossible to take place, New England's rail network fell apart. Springfield, Massachusetts Bay, became the epicentre of the relief efforts, with aid from the United States first entering Adirondack and then having to be brought over to the city. With only one rail line servicing the region, aid was slow and piecemeal. With the Port of New Haven open, but no open railway links, aid could not go to New England's second largest port city. As the death toll mounted, the federal government continued to struggle with aid and connecting with the country's citizens...
...By the time the damage was assessed and rudimentary overland transportation by trucks and the military had been established, martial law was declared in Rhode Island, Plymouth, and eastern Massachusetts Bay. Aid from the Federal Government was nonexistent as it simply did not have the capacity to respond. The Rhode Island Provincial Government was the first to ask British Prime Minister Ian Duncan Smith for aid, which quickly spread to Plymouth, Massachusetts Bay, and Maine...
...After Britain agreed to intervene in the aid efforts, the Commonwealth of Nations also passed an emergency resolution for rebuilding efforts in the country. Conservative leader Michael Jarjura in the House of Commons called for a motion of no confidence against the newly elected Kirk government for "gross incompetence and negligence towards the lives of New Englanders"...
...In any other election the ultra-Conservative Jarjura would not have come close to a general election victory, but his strong approach to wanting to rebuild from the storm caused the Conservative to take a landslide victory that made Prime Minister Kerry's loss seem tame...
I doubt I will do more than this, it's a nice one off. Enjoy!
Hurricane IGOR
ZCZC MIATCPAT1 ALL
TTAA00 KNHC DDHHMM
BULLETIN
HURRICANE IGOR ADVISORY NUMBER 48
NWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL AL112010
1100 PM AST SUN SEP 19 2010
...CENTER OF HURRICANE IGOR PASSES DIRECTLY OVER BERMUDA...OVER 202 MPH WIND GUST REPORTED ON THE ISLAND...
SUMMARY OF 1100 PM AST...0300 UTC...INFORMATION
-----------------------------------------------
LOCATION...32.4N 64.8W
ABOUT 10 MI...15 KM NW OF BERMUDA
MAXIMUM SUSTAINED WINDS...170 MPH...275 KM/HR
PRESENT MOVEMENT...N OR 355 DEGREES AT 16 MPH...26 KM/HR
MINIMUM CENTRAL PRESSURE...917 MB...27.08 INCHES
WATCHES AND WARNINGS
--------------------
CHANGES WITH THIS ADVISORY...
NONE.
SUMMARY OF WATCHES AND WARNINGS IN EFFECT...
A HURRICANE WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
* BERMUDA
FOR STORM INFORMATION SPECIFIC TO BERMUDA...PLEASE MONITOR PRODUCTS ISSUED BY THE BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU.
DISCUSSION AND 48-HOUR OUTLOOK
------------------------------
AT 1100 PM AST...0300 UTC...THE CENTER OF HURRICANE IGOR WAS LOCATED NEAR LATITUDE 32.4 NORTH...LONGITUDE 64.8 WEST. IGOR IS MOVING TOWARD THE NORTH NEAR 16 MPH...22 KM/HR. A TURN TOWARD THE NORTHEAST WITH SOME INCREASE IN FORWARD SPEED IS EXPECTED ON MONDAY. ON THE FORECAST TRACK...THE CENTER OF IGOR WILL BE PASSING AWAY FROM BERMUDA OVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS...AND CONTINUE TO MOVE AWAY FROM THE ISLAND ON MONDAY.
MAXIMUM SUSTAINED WINDS ARE NEAR 170 MPH...275 KM/HR...WITH HIGHER GUSTS. IGOR IS A CATEGORY FIVE HURRICANE ON THE SAFFIR-SIMPSON SCALE. SOME WEAKENING IS LIKELY DURING THE NEXT 48 HOURS.
IGOR IS AN EXTREMELY LARGE HURRICANE. HURRICANE FORCE WINDS EXTEND OUTWARD UP TO 275 MILES...445 KM...FROM THE CENTER...AND TROPICAL STORM FORCE WINDS EXTEND OUTWARD UP TO 645 MILES...1040 KM. THE OFFICIAL WEATHER OBSERVING SITE IN BERMUDA RECENTLY REPORTED A SUSTAINED WIND OF 172 MPH...277 KM/HR...WITH A GUST TO 191 MPH...307 KM/HR. AN ELEVATED OBSERVING SITE IN BERMUDA RECENTLY REPORTED A WIND GUST TO AT LEAST 202 MPH...325 KM/HR...HOWEVER...THE SITE'S ANEMOMETER WAS DESTROYED BY THE WIND GUST BEFORE IT REACHED ITS PEAK INTENSITY...WHICH IS ESTIMATED AT APPROXIMATELY 210 MPH...340 KM/HR.
ESTIMATED MINIMUM CENTRAL PRESSURE IS 917 MB...27.08 INCHES.
HAZARDS AFFECTING LAND
----------------------
WIND...HURRICANE CONDITIONS ARE EXPECTED OVER BERMUDA THROUGH MONDAY. WINDS SHOULD BEGIN TO DIMINISH BY MONDAY AFTERNOON.
RAINFALL...IGOR IS EXPECTED TO PRODUCE ADDITIONAL RAINFALL ACCUMULATIONS OF UP TO 20 TO 30 INCHES OVER BERMUDA THROUGH MIDDAY MONDAY. THIS WILL BRING STORM TOTAL AMOUNTS TO BETWEEN 72 AND 80 INCHES OVER BERMUDA.
STORM SURGE...AN EXTREMELY DANGEROUS STORM SURGE IS EXPECTED TO CONTINUE TO PRODUCE MASSIVE COASTAL FLOODING ON BERMUDA. THE SURGE WILL BE ACCOMPANIED BY EXTREMELY LARGE AND DESTRUCTIVE WAVES...ESPECIALLY ALONG THE SOUTHERN COAST...SHIFTING TO THE NORTHERN COAST EARLY MONDAY MORNING.
SURF...LARGE SWELLS WILL CONTINUE TO AFFECT THE LEEWARD ISLANDS...PUERTO RICO...THE VIRGIN ISLANDS...HISPANIOLA...THE BAHAMAS...THE TURKS AND CAICOS ISLANDS...BERMUDA...THE EAST COAST OF THE UNITED STATES...NOVA SCOTIA...NEW BRUNSWICK...AND NEWFOUNDLAND THROUGH MONDAY NIGHT. THESE SWELLS ARE LIKELY TO CAUSE LIFE-THREATENING SURF AND RIP CURRENTS. PLEASE CONSULT PRODUCTS FROM YOUR LOCAL WEATHER OFFICE FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.
NEXT ADVISORY
-------------
NEXT INTERMEDIATE ADVISORY...200 AM AST.
NEXT COMPLETE ADVISORY...500 AM AST.
$$
FORECASTER PASCH
NNNN
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Bulletin issued by Weather New England (www.weather.ne), 20 September 2010:
Hurricane IGOR
HMRNEN BVI02 SPTN
BES13 QVWS DDHHMM
BULLETIN
HURRICANE IGOR ADVISORY NUMBER 06
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND/ENVIRONMENT CANADA SPANISH TOWN B.V.I. BE03201ER
1100 PM NES MON SEP 20 2010
...IGOR HAS SHIFTED TRACK AFTER HITTING BERMUDA, TURNING TOWARDS NEW ENGLAND AND RAPIDLY GAINING STRENGTH...
CURRENT CONDITIONS
LOCATION...36.5N 65.5W
ABT 450KM N OF BERMUDA
ABT 670KM SE OF NANTUCKET PLYMOUTH
ABT 765KM S OF CAPE SABLE NOVA SCOTIA
MAX SUS. WIND 265KMH
MOVEMENT NW 320DEG 80KMH
MIN CENTRAL PRESSURE 923MB...DECREASING
WATCHES AND WARNINGS
====================
CHANGES WITH THIS ADVISORY...
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND HAS ISSUED A HURRICANE WARNING FOR ALL OF LONG ISLAND...CONNECTICUT...RHODE ISLAND...PLYMOUTH...EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY...NEW HAMPSHIRE...MAINE...NOVA SCOTIA...ALL MINOR OUTLYING ISLANDS OF NEW ENGLAND
WEATHER NEW ENGLAND HAS ISSUED A TROPICAL STORM WARNING FOR ADIRONDACK...WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY...VERMONT...NEW BRUNSWICK...PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
ENVIRONMENT CANADA HAS ISSUED A TROPICAL STORM WARNING FOR NEWFOUNDLAND
THE BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU HAS CHANGED THE HURRICANE WARNING FOR BERMUDA TO A TROPICAL STORM WARNING
SUMMARY OF WATCHES AND WARNINGS ISSUED BY WEATHER NEW ENGLAND
HURRICANE WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
*LONG ISLAND
*CONNECTICUT
*RHODE ISLAND
*PLYMOUTH
*EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY
*NEW HAMPSHIRE
*MAINE
*NOVA SCOTIA
TROPICAL STORM WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR...
*WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS BAY
*ADIRONDACK
*VERMONT
*NEW BRUNSWICK
*PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
OUTLOOK
====================
IGOR WILL MOVE NORTHWEST AT 80KMH AND WILL TURN NORTH TUESDAY BEFORE MAKING A TURN NORTHEAST BY WEDNESDAY...WEATHER NEW ENGLAND...ENVIRONMENT CANADA...NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE...BRITISH EMPIRE WEATHER BUREAU...ALL CONVERGE ON IGOR MAKING LANDFALL ON NANTUCKET...MARTHAS VINEYARD...OR CAPE COD ON TUESDAY.
====================
Hurricane Igor remains the costliest, deadliest, and most notable natural disaster to have ever hit New England. The hurricane first hit the island of Bermuda before making a sudden and unexpected turn in its track. The small island did little to stop the ferocity and strength of the cyclone, and it barreled towards New England as a Category 5 Hurricane. While New England had always had hurricanes hit her shores, they were mostly ones that had already traveled through the United States or weakened to the point where the highest was only a Category 3.
The nation was not put into Igor's crosshairs until a few hours after it left Bermuda, and the threat of a Category 5 hurricane barreling down the country caused Prime Minister Kirk to issue mandatory evacuation orders for many of Plymouth's outlying islands. Plymouth's Government also issued a slew of evacuation orders down Cape Cod, but many choose to ignore the warnings. The Long Island Provincial Government moved important documents and years of historical proceedings to New Haven, Connecticut in anticipation of the storm, and the New England Navy was put to sea, heading south towards Chesapeake Bay.
From Thousand Year Storm: Hurricane Igor and its Aftermath, by Meryl Fitzgavin:
...The worst damage, of course, was on Bermuda, where the storm had been stronger and moving slower than at any of its other landfalls. Nearly every building on the islands was destroyed, and several of the smaller islands were completely wiped off the map, including, perhaps most sadly, Nonsuch Island, where, despite the precautions taken to protect the species after 2003's Hurricane Fabian, every single nest of the critically-endangered Bermuda petrel on the island chain was destroyed, dealing the already-rare species a crippling blow and playing an important role in the decision the following year to take several of the remaining pairs coming back to the devastated island cluster into captivity to ensure the safety of the chicks...
...Igor's sudden turn to the northwest and sudden, massive acceleration towards New England, defying the best and the brightest of the National Hurricane Center and Weather New England, was extensively studied to allow the humiliated forecasters to improve in future upon their abysmal performance in the face of Igor. In retrospect, the high-pressure system that had forced Igor to the west was easy to see, and in fact was taken into consideration when deliberating upon the likely path that Igor would take after moving to the north of Bermuda; the forecasters' fatal mistake, however, was to assume that Igor would hit the southeast side of the high-pressure area, and be forced east, whereas Igor actually came in far enough west to hit just above the system's southernmost point on its southwest side, and was consequently forced directly towards the New England coastline at a very high rate of speed...
From Rebuilding New England: The Duty of Empire, by Mark Walters:
...With a record breaking 18 metre storm surge, coastal New England was devastated. All minor islands of Plymouth were devastated, with all except Martha's Vineyard totally devoid of buildings and most settlements wiped off the map. The high winds hammered the buildings that were not swept away. Much of Cape Cod was devastated, with the popular LGBTQ+ resort town of Provincetown swept off the map by the storm surge. Downtown Plymouth was similarly hit, with the old Province House swept away in the floods. The damage to the Province was widespread, with only relatively unpopulated areas being located on higher ground, causing devastation in the low lying cities and towns. Plymouth itself was cut in twain after the powerful storm washed out part of the Cape's land mass, making the northern tip an island...
...The Federal Government evacuated Boston and moved to Albany, with the Provincial Government of Massachusetts Bay electing to evacuate to Springfield. With storm surges expected to swamp the entire capitol city, a full-scale panic erupted when the evacuation order was given just 35 hours prior to expected landfall. The government ordered every train car from Connecticut to assist in the evacuation of Boston, with the majority of the people being brought to shelters in both Worcester and Springfield. Many more were sent down into Hartford, which quickly overwhelmed the motorways and the rail lines. Prime Minister Kirk made hourly updates broadcast nationwide. Canadian Prime Minister Bill Graham and U.S. President Victor Ashe were in constant communication with the New England government...
...The devastation to Boston was immense. Much of the Back Bay was levelled and Beacon Hill was unrecognizable. The once proud symbol of New England Democracy, Parliament House, was destroyed by the 14 metre storm surge. The entirety of the Boston Underground was rendered unusable pending a cleanup, and several bridges collapsed and failed. Suburban Boston also had untold millions of pounds of damage inflicted upon it, and nearly every government building was destroyed in some capacity. The sole government department still in operation immediately after the storm was the Ministry of Health, located in Hartford, Connecticut...
...The storm then brought damage to New Hampshire and the Maine coast. Casualties were high among unsuspecting residents, the most notable of which was former Prime Minister George Bush and his wife, former Maine Lieutenant Governor Barbara Bush, whose who opted to remain at their home in Kennebunkport, Maine. The entire compound had been washed away by the storm surge...
...Igor also flattened several hundred coastal towns and villages across New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, where some rural Acadian and First Nation communities were hard hit and contact not made for several weeks after landfall...
...Prime Minister Kirk was unequipped to deal with the unfolding disaster. The Royal New England Navy was turned around after the storm passed, to help with relief efforts. With much of eastern New England's infrastructure destroyed, it was impossible to reach the hardest hit coastal cities and towns let alone rural areas. New England's poor airport network compounded problems, and the Prime Minister was forced to ask for aid from the United States...
...With all rail passenger cars in Connecticut for the evacuation of Boston, and rail services east of Worcester impossible to take place, New England's rail network fell apart. Springfield, Massachusetts Bay, became the epicentre of the relief efforts, with aid from the United States first entering Adirondack and then having to be brought over to the city. With only one rail line servicing the region, aid was slow and piecemeal. With the Port of New Haven open, but no open railway links, aid could not go to New England's second largest port city. As the death toll mounted, the federal government continued to struggle with aid and connecting with the country's citizens...
...By the time the damage was assessed and rudimentary overland transportation by trucks and the military had been established, martial law was declared in Rhode Island, Plymouth, and eastern Massachusetts Bay. Aid from the Federal Government was nonexistent as it simply did not have the capacity to respond. The Rhode Island Provincial Government was the first to ask British Prime Minister Ian Duncan Smith for aid, which quickly spread to Plymouth, Massachusetts Bay, and Maine...
...After Britain agreed to intervene in the aid efforts, the Commonwealth of Nations also passed an emergency resolution for rebuilding efforts in the country. Conservative leader Michael Jarjura in the House of Commons called for a motion of no confidence against the newly elected Kirk government for "gross incompetence and negligence towards the lives of New Englanders"...
...In any other election the ultra-Conservative Jarjura would not have come close to a general election victory, but his strong approach to wanting to rebuild from the storm caused the Conservative to take a landslide victory that made Prime Minister Kerry's loss seem tame...
Well, after a lot of time, here's the big reveal! Special thanks to @AP246 for inspiring me to do this, and for @Generalissimo Maximus for help with making a bunch of the flags!
This is the fully up to date World Map for Our Fair Country, and it will be the very final "modern-day lore adjustment/retcon" I will be doing. From here on out - everything is set in stone. Now, it's time to dive into European history and modern politics! Get ready!
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The group was born out of the British Empire-wide Imperial Conferences, which began in 1953 to invite Portugal to discuss colonial matters, as well as future economic planning. This soon expanded to include Argentina and the United States, and by the early 1960s, a group was proposed of the top economic powers of the time to discuss economic coordination and a means to further safeguard their countries against any future economic slowdown. The initial meeting, in 1965, consisted of the United States, Canada, New England, Argentina, Brazil, United Kingdom, France, Australia, Portugal, and Germany. Membership was gradually expanded over the years, with Portugal leaving the group in protest of it being downgraded to non-voting role in 1996. The Soviet Union joined in 2006, which also saw India join alongside them. Despite the varying ideologies of the membership, consensus has always been reached. The group has thus far successfully combated all of the economic downturns, with the only notable exception being the Long Recession of the 1980s.
Today, the Economic Planning Group is composed of the world 18 largest economies, and have become deeply intertwined with the technically separate International Development Bank. Since 2006, all members of the Economic Planning Group have been on the Council of Reserve Banks, and the collective membership of the EPG vote on the independent Governor of the International Development Bank.
The International Development Bank is an international organization headquartered in London that had been formed following the end of the German Civil War to help the rebuilding of central Europe from the long decades of warfare that had plagued it. Initially, the bank only included the British Commonwealth, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Czechia, and the United States, but quickly expanded its membership to nearly all independent countries, except those in the Soviet Bloc by the early 1970s. The bank's success in helping to rebuild Germany caused it to be used to also invest in capital projects in newly independent African states. The organisation saw its final influx of members in 2004-2006, when the members of the former Soviet Bloc, and including the Soviet Union joined.
The bank today works to stablise the world financial system through emergency loans, capital project developments, and measures to ensure high employment and economic growth, while seeking to lower poverty worldwide. The IDB is also responsible for recording statistics on the world's economy, and monitoring the impact of various policies both implemented in member countries and how it has an impact on a wider scale. Only four countries today are not part of the IDB, with two of them having been suspended. Indonesia and Paraguay are suspended indefinitely from the organisation, South Africa had never been involved with it, and the Vatican City also is not a member. All members pay into the funds of the IDB, with members of the Economic Planning Group paying more overall due to their more advanced economies, as well as their voting rights.
The IDB is governed by the Governor of the Bank, who is responsible for the executive function of the bank's policies and management, and the position is elected every year with no term limits. In order to be elected, an EPG member state must nominate a candidate, and voting takes place in a round system where the lowest vote winner is dropped in each round. Every member of the EPG (Leader, Finance Minister, and Central Bank Governor) is given a vote, for a total of 54 electors, and 40 are needed to win the election. The incumbent governor, Thomas Lemieux, is set to complete his term on 31 December 2019, and is to be replaced by Pierre Moscovinci, who was elected on 1 December 2019.
The Governor must work with the Council of Reserve Banks, a separate planning organisation composed of the independent Central Bank Governors which meet periodically to discuss policy and vote on pressing issues, such as large expenditures like bailouts and investment packages, that have been planned by the Governor and the bank writ large. The Chair of the Reserve Banks is rotated every year between member states, and is responsible for coordinating lending policy, working with the Governor, and formulating the complex yearly funding formula all member countries must follow. Loose political groupings of ideologically similar reserve governors have formed in recent years, and are often manifested in support or opposition of specific policies set forward by the Chair. But given that a 3/4th consensus is needed for major votes, these groupings are more for more broad symbolic monetary direction than an organised political opposition.
Notes: If a country is not indicated here, it either has a government-run economy (Soviet Union) where such a statistic here would be not helpful, or it does not have any mandated minimum wage (Mandinko, Afghanistan) but has a standard 40-hour workweek (the world standard), or there is simply no data for the country (Israel, South Africa, Nepal).
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