"What Madness Is This?" - A Timeline
- Thread starter Napoleon53
- Start date
Was just trying to offer my viewpoint. To be perfectly honest, Murrica wrote an excellent glimpse of life within the NUSA empire, if rather nightmarish. I'm just wondering what would it serve.
Well, feel free. A potential ending to the tale, and at least one that doesn't end with Planet Earth solely inhabited by WASPs.
Yeah, that was the first ending. Basically, Richard Nixon manages to carry out a coup and severely weakened Jack Oswald's powerbase and resulted in a Civil War that left the NUSA broken but still belligerent.
Then Napoleon, cruel bastard that he is, did a second branch where Oswald catches wind of the coup in time, thus keeping the bastards in power and out of the global nuclear war, which is where we stand now.
Hey everyone! I'll be posting a new story focusing on life in the Confederation of the Carolinas before the World War. It'll be longer because author bias (I'm from North Carolina)
Daily Life in the Confederation of the Carolinas:
Michael Anderson wakes up at 6:30. His wife Isabella had already been up for a half hour, and he could smell breakfast. Livermush, bacon, eggs, and a fresh pot of coffee. He groggily stumbles in and gives her a kiss before sitting down. He's jolted awake by her yelling at him after he nearly knocked over a plate. Oops. At 6:45, breakfast is ready and he sips his cup of coffee (or as Isabella calls it, his coffee flavored sugar and cream). The kids are finally awake and rush in for their food. Bobby, Maria, and Elizabeth all come in and grab plates. He says a quick prayer and they begin to eat. About half way through breakfast, Michael starts to get suspicious. The girls aren't antagonizing their older brother like they normally do. Poor kid. He finally asks "Why are y'all being so quiet? Not that I mind." Maria and Elizabeth look at each other, figuring out who will speak first. Maria goes "Well daddy, we're being nice to Bobby today because he beat up those Miller boys who kept calling us "half-spic mongrels" and asking for some "Latin Lovin." He scoffs. Those Miller boys are dumb white trash. Plus, his wife is only 1/3 Hispanic anyway. The rest is a blend of French and Portuguese. They really should pay attention in those science classes on heredity. However, these thoughts are distracted by the looks of nervousness on his girls faces. "What do y'all want now? And don't say a car, you ain't getting one till you turn 18." Elizabeth speaks up this time "Actually daddy, we want to get tickets for the Johnny Cashew show in Charlotte. Pleeeease?" Michael looks at his girls with the patented stern father glare. "I am not gonna let my girls get involved with a buncha gun toting, car racing, greasing Cubabillies! We're a good Presbyterian Carolinian family, and we'll act like one damnit!" His daughters sink back into their seats, knowing that there's no winning that fight.
At 7:35 all of the kids go upstairs to change. He needs to get ready and put on his dress uniform, but stays behind for a minute to read the paper. Apparently those psychotic Yankees are televising blood sport aerial combat for entertainment! A bunch of insane Satanists, every one of em! Finally, he gets up and puts on his dress uniform. That's the bad part about being a member of the brass. Sure, you can stay with your family and whatnot, but you can never wear a normal suit to work either. With these thoughts going through his head, he kisses Isabella goodbye and gets into his staff car. Perks of leadership include never having to drive to work!
After 45 minutes (damn this Charlotte traffic) he finally arrives at the Government Building downtown. Technically, he could live and work at Fort Jackson, but his work involves more intelligence than military personnel these days, and he was tired of Army barracks anyway. As soon as he gets to his office, a call from an agent in Oshkosh comes through. Apparently, the man found info on some Yankee plot to stir up racial tensions in Virginia. Michael calls in one of his subordinates and tells them to call the Richmond folks and inform them on the details. Afterwards, he has a joint strategy session with some of his fellow lower ranking "military-intelligence" brass (as they're being called nowadays). They plan to ship guns to a Beutelist group in New York and make arrangements to aid the French in spying on the Swedes.
The next hours go by like this. Receiving and sending intel and making plans to subvert the Grand Alliance (especially the RU) by any means necessary. At lunch time, Coretta, the Blsck cook, brings in a platter of fried chicken and a pitcher of sweet tea. Why couldn't all the Blacks be as polite and helpful as her? Then, they're wouldn't be any problems. At around 4:30, everything goes into panic mode. Joe Steele made some lunatic speech about subversives, and managed to whip the Yankees up into a frenzy. Unfortunately, the crazed Northerners accidentally trampled one of their boys in Philadelphia. Goddamit. They had spent 6 months getting him into position! Oh well, time to find someone else to go on that suicide mission.
By 7:30, he's done for the day, and thoroughly exhausted. On the way home he guzzles a Cokie-Cola to keep his energy up for the family. When he finally arrives at his home, he's surprised to find the place empty except for Isabella. Apparently, the girls are staying with their friends overnight (it's a Friday, so that should be fine) and Bobby is taking his girlfriend to the Raleigh Red-Leggings vs Havana Green Socks exhibition game. Hopefully, Charlotte will get a pro team too. Since it's just the two of them, Isabella made a special dinner. He walks into the kitchen and smells the BBQ. However, this isn't Carolina style pulled pork. No sir, this is a genuine Caribbean/Brazilian fusion style BBQ. They had this at their wedding, and on their first date. As they start eating, they both think back to the beginning.....
It was April 1935. He was a cocky young Sargent in the Army, used to getting his way. He had just been stationed in the Virgin Islands as a reward for subduing a Yankee spy. Carolina's very own slice of Caribbean paradise. While he was there, he pursued lots of foreign girls. The accent and the uniform were enough for most, seeing as most associated both those things with the handsome Southron Gentleman. Isabella was different, so different. She was a woman, not a girl. When he first met her, they talked for hours. He found out that she was the daughter of a Franco-Brazilian sugar baron. To be truthful, that made her a bit intimidating. He pursued her for weeks, but she didn't seem to budge. "I'm not going to be another notch on your belt" she said. Finally, after getting down on bended knee with a bouquet of roses for her, Isabella agreed to a date. They went to this little hole in the wall place, he forgets the name. There, they had the best BBQ either of them had ever eaten. Between the food and the company, it turned out to be one of the best days of his life. A month later, he proposed to her, and she said yes. There was a bit of an uproar on both sides of the family. His parents and cousins couldn't believe he was marrying a "part Latin" foreigner. Her family didn't like him because he was middle class on a good day. In the end, both sides backed off and united around the couple after seeing their happiness. Well, for the most part. Both still have family members that refuse to speak to them. Especially after Isabella converted from Catholicism following some papal drama he isn't equipped to understand as a Presbyterian. Oh well, their loss. 18 years later, life is great and hopefully going to get better....
Eventually, the talkie box snaps them back to reality. A breaking news alert announced that Chancellor Gamble was going to be holding a military parade and extending his powers in the event of a war with the despicable Yankees. Good, our nation needs to be prepared! However, his wife curses something in French and turns the talkie box off. She's not the news junkie he is. They sit on the sofa together and talk for hours, just like the day they first met. Eventually, they fall asleep....
Michael and Isabella Anderson with their daughter Maria. Son Bobby can be seen in the background
Downtown Charlotte
A modern day picture of Brazilian BBQ, similar to what the Andersons enjoy
Michael Anderson wakes up at 6:30. His wife Isabella had already been up for a half hour, and he could smell breakfast. Livermush, bacon, eggs, and a fresh pot of coffee. He groggily stumbles in and gives her a kiss before sitting down. He's jolted awake by her yelling at him after he nearly knocked over a plate. Oops. At 6:45, breakfast is ready and he sips his cup of coffee (or as Isabella calls it, his coffee flavored sugar and cream). The kids are finally awake and rush in for their food. Bobby, Maria, and Elizabeth all come in and grab plates. He says a quick prayer and they begin to eat. About half way through breakfast, Michael starts to get suspicious. The girls aren't antagonizing their older brother like they normally do. Poor kid. He finally asks "Why are y'all being so quiet? Not that I mind." Maria and Elizabeth look at each other, figuring out who will speak first. Maria goes "Well daddy, we're being nice to Bobby today because he beat up those Miller boys who kept calling us "half-spic mongrels" and asking for some "Latin Lovin." He scoffs. Those Miller boys are dumb white trash. Plus, his wife is only 1/3 Hispanic anyway. The rest is a blend of French and Portuguese. They really should pay attention in those science classes on heredity. However, these thoughts are distracted by the looks of nervousness on his girls faces. "What do y'all want now? And don't say a car, you ain't getting one till you turn 18." Elizabeth speaks up this time "Actually daddy, we want to get tickets for the Johnny Cashew show in Charlotte. Pleeeease?" Michael looks at his girls with the patented stern father glare. "I am not gonna let my girls get involved with a buncha gun toting, car racing, greasing Cubabillies! We're a good Presbyterian Carolinian family, and we'll act like one damnit!" His daughters sink back into their seats, knowing that there's no winning that fight.
At 7:35 all of the kids go upstairs to change. He needs to get ready and put on his dress uniform, but stays behind for a minute to read the paper. Apparently those psychotic Yankees are televising blood sport aerial combat for entertainment! A bunch of insane Satanists, every one of em! Finally, he gets up and puts on his dress uniform. That's the bad part about being a member of the brass. Sure, you can stay with your family and whatnot, but you can never wear a normal suit to work either. With these thoughts going through his head, he kisses Isabella goodbye and gets into his staff car. Perks of leadership include never having to drive to work!
After 45 minutes (damn this Charlotte traffic) he finally arrives at the Government Building downtown. Technically, he could live and work at Fort Jackson, but his work involves more intelligence than military personnel these days, and he was tired of Army barracks anyway. As soon as he gets to his office, a call from an agent in Oshkosh comes through. Apparently, the man found info on some Yankee plot to stir up racial tensions in Virginia. Michael calls in one of his subordinates and tells them to call the Richmond folks and inform them on the details. Afterwards, he has a joint strategy session with some of his fellow lower ranking "military-intelligence" brass (as they're being called nowadays). They plan to ship guns to a Beutelist group in New York and make arrangements to aid the French in spying on the Swedes.
The next hours go by like this. Receiving and sending intel and making plans to subvert the Grand Alliance (especially the RU) by any means necessary. At lunch time, Coretta, the Blsck cook, brings in a platter of fried chicken and a pitcher of sweet tea. Why couldn't all the Blacks be as polite and helpful as her? Then, they're wouldn't be any problems. At around 4:30, everything goes into panic mode. Joe Steele made some lunatic speech about subversives, and managed to whip the Yankees up into a frenzy. Unfortunately, the crazed Northerners accidentally trampled one of their boys in Philadelphia. Goddamit. They had spent 6 months getting him into position! Oh well, time to find someone else to go on that suicide mission.
By 7:30, he's done for the day, and thoroughly exhausted. On the way home he guzzles a Cokie-Cola to keep his energy up for the family. When he finally arrives at his home, he's surprised to find the place empty except for Isabella. Apparently, the girls are staying with their friends overnight (it's a Friday, so that should be fine) and Bobby is taking his girlfriend to the Raleigh Red-Leggings vs Havana Green Socks exhibition game. Hopefully, Charlotte will get a pro team too. Since it's just the two of them, Isabella made a special dinner. He walks into the kitchen and smells the BBQ. However, this isn't Carolina style pulled pork. No sir, this is a genuine Caribbean/Brazilian fusion style BBQ. They had this at their wedding, and on their first date. As they start eating, they both think back to the beginning.....
It was April 1935. He was a cocky young Sargent in the Army, used to getting his way. He had just been stationed in the Virgin Islands as a reward for subduing a Yankee spy. Carolina's very own slice of Caribbean paradise. While he was there, he pursued lots of foreign girls. The accent and the uniform were enough for most, seeing as most associated both those things with the handsome Southron Gentleman. Isabella was different, so different. She was a woman, not a girl. When he first met her, they talked for hours. He found out that she was the daughter of a Franco-Brazilian sugar baron. To be truthful, that made her a bit intimidating. He pursued her for weeks, but she didn't seem to budge. "I'm not going to be another notch on your belt" she said. Finally, after getting down on bended knee with a bouquet of roses for her, Isabella agreed to a date. They went to this little hole in the wall place, he forgets the name. There, they had the best BBQ either of them had ever eaten. Between the food and the company, it turned out to be one of the best days of his life. A month later, he proposed to her, and she said yes. There was a bit of an uproar on both sides of the family. His parents and cousins couldn't believe he was marrying a "part Latin" foreigner. Her family didn't like him because he was middle class on a good day. In the end, both sides backed off and united around the couple after seeing their happiness. Well, for the most part. Both still have family members that refuse to speak to them. Especially after Isabella converted from Catholicism following some papal drama he isn't equipped to understand as a Presbyterian. Oh well, their loss. 18 years later, life is great and hopefully going to get better....
Eventually, the talkie box snaps them back to reality. A breaking news alert announced that Chancellor Gamble was going to be holding a military parade and extending his powers in the event of a war with the despicable Yankees. Good, our nation needs to be prepared! However, his wife curses something in French and turns the talkie box off. She's not the news junkie he is. They sit on the sofa together and talk for hours, just like the day they first met. Eventually, they fall asleep....
Michael and Isabella Anderson with their daughter Maria. Son Bobby can be seen in the background
Downtown Charlotte
A modern day picture of Brazilian BBQ, similar to what the Andersons enjoy
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I am still absolutely moved at the love people have shown my pride and joy. It's been years and I still get emails about this bad boy. I love you guys!
Got to second this. You gave us a gift Napoleon. Admittedly a dark and twisted gift, but one all the same. Thank you for putting your time and effort into it.
One idea that has been kicking around in my head for two years is an ASB spin-off of this timeline set in the far retro-future where the victorious evil America starts out on a conquest of the galaxy, seeing alien worlds as just another target for Manifest Destiny. I may get around to it sometime. I also keep meaning to continue Pay the Bonus, but I have a million ideas and so little time. In the meantime, go look at my latest project, "I Saw the Light," which may take a dark turn in the future. (I don't know why but tongue-in-cheek yet firmly dark and depressing dystopias are so much more fun and interesting to write, and they usually allow the most wit and for scenarios anyone of any political stance can enjoy; WMIT would make most die-hard Trumpers or Antifa members shrivel up in horror).
In the meantime, go look at my latest project, "I Saw the Light," which may take a dark turn in the future. (I don't know why but tongue-in-cheek yet firmly dark and depressing dystopias are so much more fun and interesting to write, and they usually allow the most wit and for scenarios anyone of any political stance can enjoy; WMIT would make most die-hard Trumpers or Antifa members shrivel up in horror).
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Basically, the ASB/futhist version would be something like:
Envision a long gray capital ship with red, white, and blue striping down the middle shuttling around the orbit of a far planetary system. It is the year 2193, over 100 years since the New United States achieved total dominance over all life on Earth. A man in a drab yellow gabardine officer's uniform and jackboots stands upon the bridge, preparing to issue orders to his crew as their optics survey the planetary surface, looking for their targets. The bridge's floors are simulated white marble, glistening under the lights of the bridge. A massive brass statue of a Federal Eagle hangs in the upper atrium of the high ceiling. In its right talons it holds the Earth, and its left talons a sword. An engraved motto hangs above its head, gold letters inset into an opalescent plaque that reads "ONE EARTH. ONE UNION. FOREVER." There is silence, aside from the clicking of buttons and the distant hum of the gravity generators. The USFS Joseph Steele, the biggest ship in the fleet, is an impressive site. The outside of the cigar shaped ship is bristling with 20 orbital ordinance systems, designed to eradicate whole cities within the blink of an eye. The turrets these guns are mounted on are designed to resemble the heads of screaming eagles. The commander in the gabardine uniform and shiny boots must make a decision. Slowly he pulls a switch on a panel in front of him. He folds his hands behind his back. And waits. The guns open up a devastating barrage, crippling most of the planet's defenses. Moments later, as the guns cease, Goodyear Lines Transport Class 4 troop carrying shuttles deploy from the hangar bay of the Joseph Steele. Withing minutes, the shuttles are landing on the planetary surface. Thousands of heavily-armed, battle-hardened troopers deploy against the alien village. The New United States Space Force is on the move. Manifest Destiny must be achieved. And any inferior species who refuse to submit to their betters must be exterminated. From the Space Hulks of Sector 9, to the Sky Cities of Venus, the Space Force will fight its countries battle, in space and on worlds, stars, and moons.
I dunno, I think it sounds neat.
Envision a long gray capital ship with red, white, and blue striping down the middle shuttling around the orbit of a far planetary system. It is the year 2193, over 100 years since the New United States achieved total dominance over all life on Earth. A man in a drab yellow gabardine officer's uniform and jackboots stands upon the bridge, preparing to issue orders to his crew as their optics survey the planetary surface, looking for their targets. The bridge's floors are simulated white marble, glistening under the lights of the bridge. A massive brass statue of a Federal Eagle hangs in the upper atrium of the high ceiling. In its right talons it holds the Earth, and its left talons a sword. An engraved motto hangs above its head, gold letters inset into an opalescent plaque that reads "ONE EARTH. ONE UNION. FOREVER." There is silence, aside from the clicking of buttons and the distant hum of the gravity generators. The USFS Joseph Steele, the biggest ship in the fleet, is an impressive site. The outside of the cigar shaped ship is bristling with 20 orbital ordinance systems, designed to eradicate whole cities within the blink of an eye. The turrets these guns are mounted on are designed to resemble the heads of screaming eagles. The commander in the gabardine uniform and shiny boots must make a decision. Slowly he pulls a switch on a panel in front of him. He folds his hands behind his back. And waits. The guns open up a devastating barrage, crippling most of the planet's defenses. Moments later, as the guns cease, Goodyear Lines Transport Class 4 troop carrying shuttles deploy from the hangar bay of the Joseph Steele. Withing minutes, the shuttles are landing on the planetary surface. Thousands of heavily-armed, battle-hardened troopers deploy against the alien village. The New United States Space Force is on the move. Manifest Destiny must be achieved. And any inferior species who refuse to submit to their betters must be exterminated. From the Space Hulks of Sector 9, to the Sky Cities of Venus, the Space Force will fight its countries battle, in space and on worlds, stars, and moons.
I dunno, I think it sounds neat.
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Hey man, I know you've got every right to pursue whichever story you've got ideas for at the moment, but I'd appreciate it if you could stick to one particular story at a time. I just find it a damned shame that WMiT never got to be completed up until now. Heck, this story was where I made my first ever post on this forum.
I'm considering writing an ultimate edit of this TL, going through and rereading and touching up the whole thing. And then at the end of that, continue it!
My mind races at a 1000 miles a minute, which is both fantastic for writing and horrible at the same time. Then when life happens I start forgetting my own timeline! The first downfall of this TL was when my original computer crashed along with all my files, research and artwork.
My mind races at a 1000 miles a minute, which is both fantastic for writing and horrible at the same time. Then when life happens I start forgetting my own timeline! The first downfall of this TL was when my original computer crashed along with all my files, research and artwork.
If so then fantastic, However I have a question I wanted your input on. A while back I wanted to do a map based on if the French attacked the RU after Custer's death inspired by this line from the Black Christmas update:
I just wanted some notes on how North America and perhaps the world would look by 1950 just so I have something to go on once I continue with this idea.
I GIVE YOU THE REDUX, BIGGER AND BADDER. https://www.alternatehistory.com/forum/threads/what-madness-is-this-redux-the-union-forever.451900/
xsampa
Banned
It's going to be an ambitious work of art once you're done with it. I have some requests for specific locations to be covered, to get more of the truly global perspective the first edition lacked:
- Colonial Africa
- Colonial India
- "Free" India
- The curious French/Dutch protectorate of Micronesia
- The Pacific Mandate, preferably from the perspective of a turncoat anglo/surviving native
- Antarctica
- French Australia