ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The safety campaign slogans boil down to:
Leaded Gasoline:
Asbestos:
Last edited:
A Second Sunrise: Taiwan of 2020 Sent Back to 1911
- Thread starter ChrisProvidence
- Start date
- Original Modern Post-1900
Leaded Gasoline:
Asbestos:
I see what you did there. Oh well, a little bit of self-promotion never hurt anybody.
For anyone who's interested: here's the game on the developer's website, and here's the game on steam.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yup.
It's actually based on an old prototype back when it was a board game, before I realized that I didn't want to do supply chains.
After I buy a pillow that made from 90% natural rubber (from vietnam, btw, and it not cheap, hence I only buy one pillow rather than a bed), I remembered about this video and check it. What do you think about that ? Is 'natural rubber' pillow and bed legit ? (since I don't see this video mention about it and only on the 'memory foam' type here). This also to give idea for downtimer react to video like this
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgQLgm8EV9k&t=9s
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgQLgm8EV9k&t=9s
Chapter 69: Expecting the Unexpected
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Miguel Cortez-Menendez. Spain During the Great War. Servicio de Publicaciones, 1937.
INTRODUCTION
Spain was a product of its environment.
Upon hearing of the Great Journey, King Alfonso XIII, like so many other Downtimers, sent emissaries to the new island lost in a sea of time to learn of the future.
The fact that said island was all-too-happy to do so simply made their jobs easier. An entire century's worth of information was at their fingertips.
Their fingertips would go to their notes, and the notes would go to the diplomats. The diplomats would telegraph the information to Madrid, where it would go from diplomats, to advisors, to the King himself.
All according to plan, as far as Alfonso XIII was concerned.
What he hadn't planned for was the realization of just what Spain would become in this "Lost History" of the Islanders.
Be it revolution, civil war, or the fall of the monarchy, King Alfonso had to do something to change history.
He knew who to trust, who to listen to, and he had a general idea of what to do.
The Africanists had always been loyal, and he had the good sense (at least in his own eyes) to foster this loyalty. The mainland Junteros, on the other hand, would need to be sidelined.
The socialists and republicans? As much as he wanted nothing more than to purge them from Spanish society, he knew full well the consequences of that.
Instead, his advisors recommended he act more subtly. Which in this case meant that certain figures from the Lost History's opposition would be hindered wherever they went.
Sure, they wouldn't be outright murdered or jailed, but a "Historically Disloyal" (as they were referred to in internal memos) officer would be passed over promotion while their civilian counterparts would fail to rise through the bureaucracy.
"Restoration" was the word of the day every day since the 1898 Disaster, and that was his sole motivation. It would Restoration of Spanish pride, nationalism, and their place on the world stage, and Africa would be their means.
That said, the Africanists had enough sense to stay out of the Great War. Though there were those who wanted nothing more than to seize chunks of French Africa while the Accord was on the other side of the planet, Spain simply didn't have the means to do so.
Tempting as it may have been, "neutrality" was just too good for Spain. For a given definition of "neutrality," anyways.
"Neutrality" was a means for Spain that allowed them to punch well above their weight for the first time in decades.
Or to put it another way, the Great War was good for the economy. While many militarists may claim this applies to all conflict, in this case it actually was beneficial to the Spanish economy. Spanish goods were in high demand, and it wasn't as if France, Britain, Italy, Portugal, or Germany could object when the Spanish wrung them for every peseta.
The opposite could be said by the time the war was over. While Spain had grown wealthy from the conflict, most of their trade partners didn't exist, and the rest were all well and good with replacing them with cheaper Chinese and American goods.
This, coupled with the reality of Britain, Germany, Italy, and Portugal not existing anymore, left Spain without a market for most of their imports and exports, with only a few exiled officers and royals to show for it. Stagflation (a portmanteau of "Stagnation" and "Inflation") had run rampant, as the lower supply of imports increased prices, while the disappearance of trade partners led to a sharp drop in GDP (and by extension an increase in poverty).
Spain was coming apart at the seams, and the people knew it. Prime Minister Dato's government had fallen, and a new center-left coalition under Prime Minister Figueroa would come to power in 1925.
"Reform" replaced "Restoration" as the word of the day in Spain, and the coalition government had acted with aplomb. Between the eight-hour work day and the passage of women's suffrage, Spain soon joined their Western European neighbors in the 20th century.
The Conservatives, for their part, had been largely-ambivalent towards the latter. While some had feared that women's suffrage would turn Spain into a "Second France," the results were less-radical than expected outside of Catalonia.
The colonial reforms were the final straw for the Africanists. In particular the mandated state oversight of the Bioko cocoa plantations under the African Worker Law of 1927, as well as the colonial reforms of the 1928 Franco-Spanish Cooperation Agreement.
Claiming that the Liberals and Leftists would "Doom Spain to irrelevancy," a clique of Africanist generals under General Manuel Goded Llopis launched a coup on 29 January 1929 with the King's blessing. Seeking to "Save Spain and the Restoration," the rebels had made their move in the colonies, where their support was the strongest.
Bolstered by colonial troops, the Africanists (as the rebels were referred to) would seize control of Spanish Morocco, Guinea, the Canary Islands, and even the disputed territory of Tangier. The mainland component of the coup would be less-successful, with Lieutenant General Emilio Barrera captured and later executed in Madrid, while King Alfonso fled into the night.
By New Year's Day in 1930, Spain would be divided between the Loyalists on the mainland and the Africanists in Africa. Lines had been drawn, forces have defected, purges enacted, and the Loyalist Republican Navy stands as a small-but-determined bulwark against the more-experienced colonial troops.
Though few bullets had been fired, the Spanish Civil War had begun in earnest.
It is a conflict between two Spains: one colonial and monarchistic, while the other is radical and republican in all but name.
Oujda, French Morocco, 12 January 1930
"This fucking sucks," Antoine Ravel muttered, before putting down his binoculars. "We're stuck here, on this side of the border, waiting for the Spanish to do... wait, what are we even doing here?"
"Our job is to make sure the Spanish stay on their side of the border," Corporal Henri Alain yawned, "And to make sure they don't try to take the rest of Morocco or restore the monarchy."
"Wait, whose monarchy? The Moroccans or the Spanish?"
"Either, Antoine," the corporal said, before shaking his head. "The last thing we need is the Sultan coming back from exile in Ceuta and try to restore the monarchy in Morocco after we kicked him out during the War. The second-to-last thing we need is the King of Spain coming back to the mainland and trying to overthrow our allies' republic."
"Which is why we're here, manning a guard post and praying that the Spanish don't overrun us before the reinforcements come."
"Praying? I never took you for a religious man, Antoine."
"I'll take all the help I can get, Corporal."
"Fair enough. It's not as if we have anything better to do these days, besides using the drones to fuck with the Africanists."
"Did they try shooting it again?"
"Obviously."
"They missed again, didn't they?"
"Obviously."
"You know, we could-"
"No," said the corporal, as if by reflex.
"You didn't even hear what I was going to say!"
"I know what you're going to say. It's going to be some variation of 'Let's drop shit on the Africanists.' Including one time where you literally said we should drop shit on them."
"I was joking, boss. As long as I don't actually start dropping shit on them, there's no harm, right?"
"If you say so, Antoine," the corporal relented. "Just be sure to tell me when you're going to go send it over again."
"New orders?"
"Nope. Just bored. This is the closest I'm getting to entertainment before the get the internet set up here."
Taiwan Strait Tunnel, Hsinchu, Taiwan, Republic of China, 4 February 1930
"You seem awfully proud today," Aki said to her husband as they got into their cabin. "I guess there's a first for everything, Michael."
"Yeah, you could say that," Michael said sheepishly, before looking out the window. If his eyes were right, their train had just entered the tunnel proper. "But have you considered that this is really friggin' cool, Aki?"
"It's the part about 'Digging a hole to China,' isn't it?" Her husband nodded. "That's never going to stop being funny to you, is it?"
"Nope. Just think about it: By July, we'll be able to ride a train all the way to Tokyo, Aki. How does that sound?"
"I'd rather take a boat."
"And I'd rather not have Lin vomit into my lap again, Aki. Thank God for Dramamine."
"Then it's a good thing we have trains, then. I'll take this over flying, any day."
"Just think of it like a boat. On wheels. On tracks. That is really long."
"Okay, " she told him, with an amused smile on her face. "You know you don't have to sell me on trains, Michael."
"It's literal- er, basically my job, Aki." She'd always been a stickler for that with the kids, so he'd gone out of his way to set a good example. "That, and settling union disputes with management, apparently."
"I thought your job was a sinecure?"
"Yeah. So did I."
Dover, Republic of Great Britain, 20 February 1930
Eric had never thought he would be here.
No, that was an oversimplification. He never thought his last few years would end up as... well, all of this.
What had started as a career as a policeman in Burma had spiraled into conscription into the British Army, surrender to the rebels, defection from the Empire he so despised, and finally newfound purpose writing articles for the newly-formed "Free British Press," as the Accord-backed anti-Imperial paper had been called.
That, of all things, had gotten him back to Britain. While many in the colonies decried decolonization (particularly the enforcement of "Local Rule") as "Stripping us of our homeland," Eric was practically ecstatic at the prospect of returning to Britain. Unlike so many of his countrymen, he had always felt like an outsider, tattoos and language notwithstanding.
Unlike them, he had been disabused of any romanticism the moment he set foot in Burma. He could still remember the jeers and sneers of the "Evil-spirited little beasts" he had to police over.
Even if they were supposed to be on the same side.
The next few years had been rough for him. While some would decry him as a "Traitor" and a "Yellow Propagandist," he hardly paid them any mind. In all likelihood, they still believed that Reginald Dyer had done nothing wrong.
It was thankless work, but he had found some purpose in it all. The fact that so many were willing to re-evaluate the Empire in less than half a decade was a testament to that.
Even if much of it is White Guilt.
Still, there was only so much he could do. There were only so many articles he could write about the cruelty and banality of the Raj, and that was with an entire colony's worth of records for inspiration.
That had brought him here, to the Port of Dover where the British Brigade had mustered. Formed from socialists, trade unionists, republicans, and a few adventurers, these men (and even a few women) were united in their opposition to the pretender state in Africa.
As the Free British Press' correspondent, he'd be embedded with the unit. He'd travel with them, eat with them, and even possibly see combat with them.
And of course, report on them. They were an odd bunch, to say the least. Former soldiers, dissidents, and idealists from Britain and the colonies (or was it the "former colonies" nowadays?) who all intended to fight and possibly die for another country.
While he had been with them for less than an hour, he could already empathize with their need to find some purpose in their lives after the war. That was why he was here, rather than writing up yet another piece on the evils of colonialism back in London for the Free Press.
"You'll get used to them eventually," a voice said from behind him. Eric turned to see a sandy-haired man, who had to be at least a decade his senior. "I take it you're the correspondent assigned to us?"
"Yes, that would be me," Eric admitted, before handing the man his papers. "And you're the commander, I take it?"
"Elected off of my reputation, I believe," Lawrence admitted. At least that was whom Eric presumed he was talking to, anyways. "But it was either the great expectations of another man with my name or somebody less-capable in charge, and I'm the only one here who has any sort of experience leading more than a platoon."
"I see. And how would you describe your unit, Commander…"
"Just Lawrence will do. And I can tell you that what these men and women lack in experience, they make up for in enthusiasm. Even if half of them have never seen combat outside of the Fall of London."
"Right… Can they fight?" Lawrence nodded. "Well alright then."
"Can you?" Lawrence asked him in turn. Eric just looked curiously at him. "Can you fight?"
"I'm more of an administrator," Eric admitted. "Back when I was in the Imperial Police, I was in charge of some two hundred thousand people."
"Well then. Consider yourself hired. You are the most-qualified man for the job."
"Wait, I didn't-"
"Look," Lawrence told him directly, "The French and the Spanish might be willing to arm and train us, but we don't exactly have much of anything outside of combat personnel. I need all the help I can get."
"I thought this was a support unit."
"Support units still need administrators," Lawrence pointed out. "Or in your case, administrators and spokesmen."
"I'm your spokesmen now, as well?"
"You're already assigned to cover us," Lawrence pointed out. "This would be little more than turning the de-facto into the official."
"There truly isn't anyone else, is there?" Lawrence shook his head. "Then I guess I might as well. Not as if we have any other options."
Saint Ignatius High School, Los Angeles, California, 25 March 1930
"I don't get why we have to learn all this stuff," Jacob Byrd muttered, before turning the page to the next chapter. "Everybody knows that Congress passes the laws, while the President signs off on them."
"Future-Proofing," Allan Reyes sighed, before taking his notes back. "They don't want us to make the same mistakes as the Lost History."
"Who's "they," anyways, Al? The government? The Pope? Your parents? Mine?"
"Everyone, it seems. And that's why we need to know how the government works, along with all of these other things."
"What, are people in the future really stupid enough to not know how the government functions, despite having an entire world of knowledge at their fingertips?"
Allan needed to think about that for a second. He'd heard all the stories, but they all kind of melded together into one layered cake of... well, everything, now that he thought about it.
"Yes."
Enough that they want to make sure we know how it works this time.
"I get that. But aren't we at a private Catholic school? Why are the Jesuits so worried about these things when Washington's not breathing down their necks?"
"You know how the Jesuits believe in the whole 'Education of the whole self' thing? Well, part of that includes knowing how the fucking government works. You know what's also a part of it?"
"No."
"Good." Jacob just looked at him oddly, seemingly not getting his wordplay. "...We're supposed to admit when we don't know something. Pride and all that."
"Okay, that I understand. It's one of the Seven Deadly Sins. But is it really that big of a deal in the Lost History?"
"What, thinking like you know more than you actually do?" Jacob nodded. "Then yes. Apparently it's called the 'Dunning-Krueger Effect.'"
"Sounds like some made-up bullshit, Al."
"No, that's what comes out of it."
Mission Proposal, Military Intelligence Bureau, TS-SCI Classification
SUMMARY:
In short, this mission would see the transfer of captured European Alliance equipment to the Republican Spanish government to aid them in their fight against the monarchist rebellion in Africa.
By using captured Alliance equipment, we, as well as our allies, would be able to maintain a sense of plausible deniability on the grounds that the weapons cannot be traced back to the Nanjing Accord. In the event that the Africanists capture any of this equipment, said equipment will not be traceable to us, which should prevent any diplomatic blowback.
ASSESSMENT:
While this proposal is thought out, it is largely irrelevant.
The Spanish government in Madrid is our de-facto ally for ideological as well as strategic reasons; we do not need to use such clandestine means to supply them when they are internationally-recognized as the legitimate Spanish government.
Any attempts to arm and support them will see minimal, if any, backlash on account of the majority of the nations that would have objected to supporting the Loyalists over the Africanists (Britain, Portugal, Italy, Germany, Danubian Federation) no longer existing.
As for the United States, there are those in the media sympathetic to the Africanists (Henry Ford, etc.), but they seem to be the minority. For the most part, the average American is either ambivalent or they support the pro-Republican cause. Similar sentiments can be seen across Latin America, with nations either recognizing the Madrid Republic (Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Bolivia), or outright condemning the Africanists (Mexico, Gran Colombia, Guyana).
Domestic sentiment is similar, given the average Chinese citizen's vehement opposition to monarchism as this point, with the concept largely-associated with backwardness and colonial exploitation from the Decades of Humiliation.
In short, if Nanjing wants to arm the Republicans in Spain, they ought to ask the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Not us.
INTRODUCTION
Spain was a product of its environment.
Upon hearing of the Great Journey, King Alfonso XIII, like so many other Downtimers, sent emissaries to the new island lost in a sea of time to learn of the future.
The fact that said island was all-too-happy to do so simply made their jobs easier. An entire century's worth of information was at their fingertips.
Their fingertips would go to their notes, and the notes would go to the diplomats. The diplomats would telegraph the information to Madrid, where it would go from diplomats, to advisors, to the King himself.
All according to plan, as far as Alfonso XIII was concerned.
What he hadn't planned for was the realization of just what Spain would become in this "Lost History" of the Islanders.
Be it revolution, civil war, or the fall of the monarchy, King Alfonso had to do something to change history.
He knew who to trust, who to listen to, and he had a general idea of what to do.
The Africanists had always been loyal, and he had the good sense (at least in his own eyes) to foster this loyalty. The mainland Junteros, on the other hand, would need to be sidelined.
The socialists and republicans? As much as he wanted nothing more than to purge them from Spanish society, he knew full well the consequences of that.
Instead, his advisors recommended he act more subtly. Which in this case meant that certain figures from the Lost History's opposition would be hindered wherever they went.
Sure, they wouldn't be outright murdered or jailed, but a "Historically Disloyal" (as they were referred to in internal memos) officer would be passed over promotion while their civilian counterparts would fail to rise through the bureaucracy.
"Restoration" was the word of the day every day since the 1898 Disaster, and that was his sole motivation. It would Restoration of Spanish pride, nationalism, and their place on the world stage, and Africa would be their means.
That said, the Africanists had enough sense to stay out of the Great War. Though there were those who wanted nothing more than to seize chunks of French Africa while the Accord was on the other side of the planet, Spain simply didn't have the means to do so.
Tempting as it may have been, "neutrality" was just too good for Spain. For a given definition of "neutrality," anyways.
"Neutrality" was a means for Spain that allowed them to punch well above their weight for the first time in decades.
Or to put it another way, the Great War was good for the economy. While many militarists may claim this applies to all conflict, in this case it actually was beneficial to the Spanish economy. Spanish goods were in high demand, and it wasn't as if France, Britain, Italy, Portugal, or Germany could object when the Spanish wrung them for every peseta.
The opposite could be said by the time the war was over. While Spain had grown wealthy from the conflict, most of their trade partners didn't exist, and the rest were all well and good with replacing them with cheaper Chinese and American goods.
This, coupled with the reality of Britain, Germany, Italy, and Portugal not existing anymore, left Spain without a market for most of their imports and exports, with only a few exiled officers and royals to show for it. Stagflation (a portmanteau of "Stagnation" and "Inflation") had run rampant, as the lower supply of imports increased prices, while the disappearance of trade partners led to a sharp drop in GDP (and by extension an increase in poverty).
Spain was coming apart at the seams, and the people knew it. Prime Minister Dato's government had fallen, and a new center-left coalition under Prime Minister Figueroa would come to power in 1925.
"Reform" replaced "Restoration" as the word of the day in Spain, and the coalition government had acted with aplomb. Between the eight-hour work day and the passage of women's suffrage, Spain soon joined their Western European neighbors in the 20th century.
The Conservatives, for their part, had been largely-ambivalent towards the latter. While some had feared that women's suffrage would turn Spain into a "Second France," the results were less-radical than expected outside of Catalonia.
The colonial reforms were the final straw for the Africanists. In particular the mandated state oversight of the Bioko cocoa plantations under the African Worker Law of 1927, as well as the colonial reforms of the 1928 Franco-Spanish Cooperation Agreement.
Claiming that the Liberals and Leftists would "Doom Spain to irrelevancy," a clique of Africanist generals under General Manuel Goded Llopis launched a coup on 29 January 1929 with the King's blessing. Seeking to "Save Spain and the Restoration," the rebels had made their move in the colonies, where their support was the strongest.
Bolstered by colonial troops, the Africanists (as the rebels were referred to) would seize control of Spanish Morocco, Guinea, the Canary Islands, and even the disputed territory of Tangier. The mainland component of the coup would be less-successful, with Lieutenant General Emilio Barrera captured and later executed in Madrid, while King Alfonso fled into the night.
By New Year's Day in 1930, Spain would be divided between the Loyalists on the mainland and the Africanists in Africa. Lines had been drawn, forces have defected, purges enacted, and the Loyalist Republican Navy stands as a small-but-determined bulwark against the more-experienced colonial troops.
Though few bullets had been fired, the Spanish Civil War had begun in earnest.
It is a conflict between two Spains: one colonial and monarchistic, while the other is radical and republican in all but name.
Oujda, French Morocco, 12 January 1930
"This fucking sucks," Antoine Ravel muttered, before putting down his binoculars. "We're stuck here, on this side of the border, waiting for the Spanish to do... wait, what are we even doing here?"
"Our job is to make sure the Spanish stay on their side of the border," Corporal Henri Alain yawned, "And to make sure they don't try to take the rest of Morocco or restore the monarchy."
"Wait, whose monarchy? The Moroccans or the Spanish?"
"Either, Antoine," the corporal said, before shaking his head. "The last thing we need is the Sultan coming back from exile in Ceuta and try to restore the monarchy in Morocco after we kicked him out during the War. The second-to-last thing we need is the King of Spain coming back to the mainland and trying to overthrow our allies' republic."
"Which is why we're here, manning a guard post and praying that the Spanish don't overrun us before the reinforcements come."
"Praying? I never took you for a religious man, Antoine."
"I'll take all the help I can get, Corporal."
"Fair enough. It's not as if we have anything better to do these days, besides using the drones to fuck with the Africanists."
"Did they try shooting it again?"
"Obviously."
"They missed again, didn't they?"
"Obviously."
"You know, we could-"
"No," said the corporal, as if by reflex.
"You didn't even hear what I was going to say!"
"I know what you're going to say. It's going to be some variation of 'Let's drop shit on the Africanists.' Including one time where you literally said we should drop shit on them."
"I was joking, boss. As long as I don't actually start dropping shit on them, there's no harm, right?"
"If you say so, Antoine," the corporal relented. "Just be sure to tell me when you're going to go send it over again."
"New orders?"
"Nope. Just bored. This is the closest I'm getting to entertainment before the get the internet set up here."
Taiwan Strait Tunnel, Hsinchu, Taiwan, Republic of China, 4 February 1930
"You seem awfully proud today," Aki said to her husband as they got into their cabin. "I guess there's a first for everything, Michael."
"Yeah, you could say that," Michael said sheepishly, before looking out the window. If his eyes were right, their train had just entered the tunnel proper. "But have you considered that this is really friggin' cool, Aki?"
"It's the part about 'Digging a hole to China,' isn't it?" Her husband nodded. "That's never going to stop being funny to you, is it?"
"Nope. Just think about it: By July, we'll be able to ride a train all the way to Tokyo, Aki. How does that sound?"
"I'd rather take a boat."
"And I'd rather not have Lin vomit into my lap again, Aki. Thank God for Dramamine."
"Then it's a good thing we have trains, then. I'll take this over flying, any day."
"Just think of it like a boat. On wheels. On tracks. That is really long."
"Okay, " she told him, with an amused smile on her face. "You know you don't have to sell me on trains, Michael."
"It's literal- er, basically my job, Aki." She'd always been a stickler for that with the kids, so he'd gone out of his way to set a good example. "That, and settling union disputes with management, apparently."
"I thought your job was a sinecure?"
"Yeah. So did I."
Dover, Republic of Great Britain, 20 February 1930
Eric had never thought he would be here.
No, that was an oversimplification. He never thought his last few years would end up as... well, all of this.
What had started as a career as a policeman in Burma had spiraled into conscription into the British Army, surrender to the rebels, defection from the Empire he so despised, and finally newfound purpose writing articles for the newly-formed "Free British Press," as the Accord-backed anti-Imperial paper had been called.
That, of all things, had gotten him back to Britain. While many in the colonies decried decolonization (particularly the enforcement of "Local Rule") as "Stripping us of our homeland," Eric was practically ecstatic at the prospect of returning to Britain. Unlike so many of his countrymen, he had always felt like an outsider, tattoos and language notwithstanding.
Unlike them, he had been disabused of any romanticism the moment he set foot in Burma. He could still remember the jeers and sneers of the "Evil-spirited little beasts" he had to police over.
Even if they were supposed to be on the same side.
The next few years had been rough for him. While some would decry him as a "Traitor" and a "Yellow Propagandist," he hardly paid them any mind. In all likelihood, they still believed that Reginald Dyer had done nothing wrong.
It was thankless work, but he had found some purpose in it all. The fact that so many were willing to re-evaluate the Empire in less than half a decade was a testament to that.
Even if much of it is White Guilt.
Still, there was only so much he could do. There were only so many articles he could write about the cruelty and banality of the Raj, and that was with an entire colony's worth of records for inspiration.
That had brought him here, to the Port of Dover where the British Brigade had mustered. Formed from socialists, trade unionists, republicans, and a few adventurers, these men (and even a few women) were united in their opposition to the pretender state in Africa.
As the Free British Press' correspondent, he'd be embedded with the unit. He'd travel with them, eat with them, and even possibly see combat with them.
And of course, report on them. They were an odd bunch, to say the least. Former soldiers, dissidents, and idealists from Britain and the colonies (or was it the "former colonies" nowadays?) who all intended to fight and possibly die for another country.
While he had been with them for less than an hour, he could already empathize with their need to find some purpose in their lives after the war. That was why he was here, rather than writing up yet another piece on the evils of colonialism back in London for the Free Press.
"You'll get used to them eventually," a voice said from behind him. Eric turned to see a sandy-haired man, who had to be at least a decade his senior. "I take it you're the correspondent assigned to us?"
"Yes, that would be me," Eric admitted, before handing the man his papers. "And you're the commander, I take it?"
"Elected off of my reputation, I believe," Lawrence admitted. At least that was whom Eric presumed he was talking to, anyways. "But it was either the great expectations of another man with my name or somebody less-capable in charge, and I'm the only one here who has any sort of experience leading more than a platoon."
"I see. And how would you describe your unit, Commander…"
"Just Lawrence will do. And I can tell you that what these men and women lack in experience, they make up for in enthusiasm. Even if half of them have never seen combat outside of the Fall of London."
"Right… Can they fight?" Lawrence nodded. "Well alright then."
"Can you?" Lawrence asked him in turn. Eric just looked curiously at him. "Can you fight?"
"I'm more of an administrator," Eric admitted. "Back when I was in the Imperial Police, I was in charge of some two hundred thousand people."
"Well then. Consider yourself hired. You are the most-qualified man for the job."
"Wait, I didn't-"
"Look," Lawrence told him directly, "The French and the Spanish might be willing to arm and train us, but we don't exactly have much of anything outside of combat personnel. I need all the help I can get."
"I thought this was a support unit."
"Support units still need administrators," Lawrence pointed out. "Or in your case, administrators and spokesmen."
"I'm your spokesmen now, as well?"
"You're already assigned to cover us," Lawrence pointed out. "This would be little more than turning the de-facto into the official."
"There truly isn't anyone else, is there?" Lawrence shook his head. "Then I guess I might as well. Not as if we have any other options."
Saint Ignatius High School, Los Angeles, California, 25 March 1930
"I don't get why we have to learn all this stuff," Jacob Byrd muttered, before turning the page to the next chapter. "Everybody knows that Congress passes the laws, while the President signs off on them."
"Future-Proofing," Allan Reyes sighed, before taking his notes back. "They don't want us to make the same mistakes as the Lost History."
"Who's "they," anyways, Al? The government? The Pope? Your parents? Mine?"
"Everyone, it seems. And that's why we need to know how the government works, along with all of these other things."
"What, are people in the future really stupid enough to not know how the government functions, despite having an entire world of knowledge at their fingertips?"
Allan needed to think about that for a second. He'd heard all the stories, but they all kind of melded together into one layered cake of... well, everything, now that he thought about it.
"Yes."
Enough that they want to make sure we know how it works this time.
"I get that. But aren't we at a private Catholic school? Why are the Jesuits so worried about these things when Washington's not breathing down their necks?"
"You know how the Jesuits believe in the whole 'Education of the whole self' thing? Well, part of that includes knowing how the fucking government works. You know what's also a part of it?"
"No."
"Good." Jacob just looked at him oddly, seemingly not getting his wordplay. "...We're supposed to admit when we don't know something. Pride and all that."
"Okay, that I understand. It's one of the Seven Deadly Sins. But is it really that big of a deal in the Lost History?"
"What, thinking like you know more than you actually do?" Jacob nodded. "Then yes. Apparently it's called the 'Dunning-Krueger Effect.'"
"Sounds like some made-up bullshit, Al."
"No, that's what comes out of it."
Mission Proposal, Military Intelligence Bureau, TS-SCI Classification
SUMMARY:
In short, this mission would see the transfer of captured European Alliance equipment to the Republican Spanish government to aid them in their fight against the monarchist rebellion in Africa.
By using captured Alliance equipment, we, as well as our allies, would be able to maintain a sense of plausible deniability on the grounds that the weapons cannot be traced back to the Nanjing Accord. In the event that the Africanists capture any of this equipment, said equipment will not be traceable to us, which should prevent any diplomatic blowback.
ASSESSMENT:
While this proposal is thought out, it is largely irrelevant.
The Spanish government in Madrid is our de-facto ally for ideological as well as strategic reasons; we do not need to use such clandestine means to supply them when they are internationally-recognized as the legitimate Spanish government.
Any attempts to arm and support them will see minimal, if any, backlash on account of the majority of the nations that would have objected to supporting the Loyalists over the Africanists (Britain, Portugal, Italy, Germany, Danubian Federation) no longer existing.
As for the United States, there are those in the media sympathetic to the Africanists (Henry Ford, etc.), but they seem to be the minority. For the most part, the average American is either ambivalent or they support the pro-Republican cause. Similar sentiments can be seen across Latin America, with nations either recognizing the Madrid Republic (Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Bolivia), or outright condemning the Africanists (Mexico, Gran Colombia, Guyana).
Domestic sentiment is similar, given the average Chinese citizen's vehement opposition to monarchism as this point, with the concept largely-associated with backwardness and colonial exploitation from the Decades of Humiliation.
In short, if Nanjing wants to arm the Republicans in Spain, they ought to ask the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Not us.
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Looks like Eric Blair (pen name: George Orwell) is following the footsteps of his Lost History self. I wonder if he will make another Homage to Catalonia (Homage to Morocco?) this time around.
- Location
- San Francisco
Yo, so I just saw this video, and the line where they talk about Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire dancing musicals being closely related to the style of martial arts films has me seriously thinking how funny it would be if kung-fu films came early to America. Of course the primary barrier to this would be the Hollywood film authorities who were notoriously racist and anti-violent content...but I would find it amusing if that situation were to somehow suddenly change.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaSZWuk817U
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaSZWuk817U
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ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Media in America is largely Downtimer stuff, plus whatever the Chinese put out, since Hollywood is still getting off its feet and there isn't really anything else.
Which means a lot of martial arts movies get put under "Chinese."
The Raid? Chinese.
Ip Man? Chinese.
The Live-Action adaptation of Yakuza/Like a Dragon? Chinese.
As for moral guardians, they probably aren't too happy about the violence, minorities, the interracial relations, the minorities, and all the modern values, so cinema is seen as very counter-culture in America.
Basically, imagine all those theaters that were around back in the day. It's like that, but the more-hidden ones show "counter-culture" stuff instead of porn.
Satire and comedy probably see a rise, with the comedy used as social commentary about things like racism, corruption, and all the things that happened in Hollywood at the time.
And that's before we get to all the "Talkies" in general.
Also Judy Garland isn't going to be exploited this time around.
I would like to say that any downtimer that has seen any movie made by the Chinese would never again like the downtime movies as they are not good enough
eh... for most genres, CGI doesn't matter that much [and even for SF/F, photorealism isn't everything], once downtimers have the technology to make 'modern' movies at all [i.e. color film and some way to record and edit synchronized sound] they'll be able to make low-to-mid-budget stuff at least on the level of what was being made in the 70s and 80s. And a significant aspect of what feels 'off' to modern audiences about early-mid 20th century movies is as much stylistic [and an artifact of things like the Hayes code] as technological, it's not like directors won't be able to adapt to what audiences want [which may well turn out not to be the same as what modern audiences like]
and the sound problem is as much or more a playback problem as a recording one, so it'd also affect their initial experience of uptime movies as well until that's all worked out.
- Location
- San Francisco
- Location
- San Francisco
This would still make for an amusing short. Some guy drops by a seedy joint, buys a ticket to a private showing…only said showing is of some Pixar films. XD
It's not a question of the SFX budget and technology, but the nuts and bolts of basic film techniques. Like, if you compare a film from today to one from the 1920s you'll invariably find that it looks like a stage production. Scenes have a long shot from a fixed angle on a single stage, followed by a long shot from a fixed angle on a different single stage, and so on. Extremely basic techniques that we take for granted - the close up, for example - were innovations that took a while to be made.
That's not to say American films are all going to suck or anything - Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin were geniuses even with the limitations imposed by their lack of knowledge - but it'll take time before they retrain to use Chinese techniques. Until that happens the films are inevitably going to be distinctly amateurish in comparison.
That's not to say American films are all going to suck or anything - Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin were geniuses even with the limitations imposed by their lack of knowledge - but it'll take time before they retrain to use Chinese techniques. Until that happens the films are inevitably going to be distinctly amateurish in comparison.
The Issue of Persuasion
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Old Meets New Podcast, Episode 211
KEYES: Welcome, listeners to the Old Meets New Podcast, your home for Downtimer and Uptimer conversations broadcasting live from Hong King, China. I'm your host, Phillip from the Future.
LEIGH: And I'm your host Cat from the past. Now Phil, do you want to introduce our guest today? I have heard he's come a long way, hasn't he?"
KEYES: *Exaggerated groan* Cat, you say that about everyone from the future. But yes, our special guest is Defense Minister Le Van Ninh of the Republic of Indochina.
LE: Thanks for having me on.
LEIGH: And thank you for being here. Please tell us about yourself.
LE: Well, I was born in Los Angeles to Vietnamese refugees, did a couple tours in Afghanistan, fought with the YPG in Syria-
LEIGH: My apologies, but what is the YPG?
LE: The short answer is that the YPG, or the "People's Defense Forces," is- was…
KEYES: Yeah, it still gets confusing, doesn't it?
LE: Tell me about it. Anyways, they're basically the defense forces of the Syrian Democratic forces located in Northern Syria. I was part of the International Freedom Battalion, and I was on my way home before my flight got diverted to Taipei.
LEIGH: Could you tell us more about the International Freedom Battalion? Is it anything like the Chinese Foreign Legion?
LE: Actually, yes. The IFB was a foreign legion that mainly consisted of socialists who came from all over the world to fight with the Kurds, largely on ideological grounds.
KEYES: Not to get too off-topic here, but you ended up joining the Chinese Foreign Legion, fought in the Revolution, worked with the Indochinese Independence movement, trained the Indochinese Division, fought with them during the Great War, and ended up as the Defense Minister of the Republic of Indochina.
LE: Basically.
LEIGH: Quite an impressive record, if I may say so.
LE: Yeah, that happens when you're one of the few people who has military experience and can speak Vietnamese.
KEYES: Right. So, given your experience, would you say that you are a sort of socialist?
LE: That was a lifetime ago, Phil, but yes, you could say I'm somewhere on the Left.
LEIGH: And that is why you are here. Could you provide us some insight about about the Uptimer socialist movement?
LE: I guess? Well, you have some countries where it's big like in Ecuador, Venezuela, Spain or Brazil or France, but things like the Socialist Party of America or the Left Bloc in France don't really exist in either of those countries.
KEYES: Because of the Cold War, right?
LE: Yeah. Sure, there are people like Sanders, AOC, Corbyn, Melenchon, and all of them, but they're more the exception than the rule in "Western" countries.
LEIGH: Why is that?
LE: Well, about half a century of a Cold War against the Russians with a shit-ton… Sorry, can I say that?
KEYES: Sure.
LE: But yeah, it's a combination of factors, and I can only speak about America. But in America, the Socialist Left is largely non-existent. Sure, you have Progressives like Governor Olson up in Minnesota, but outright members of the SPA like Representatives Fiorello La Guardia and Jack Reed are practically un-electable outside of a few exceptions.
LEIGH: And this is attributable to the Cold War?
LE: Kinda… But I guess a big thing is that things are fundamentally different. For example, West Virginia is one of the most conservative states in America, and a lot of modern socialist support comes from the middle and upper class. Not all, but a lot of the talking heads do.
LEIGH: As opposed to now, where socialists in America tend to be more working-class in perspective?
LE: You could say that. Sure, a lot fewer people are college-educated than in the future, so it's no surprise that there are more Big Bill Haywoods these days, even if Jack Reed is still a thing.
LEIGH: And this brings perspective, in your eyes?
LE: It's complicated, but yeah. It's kinda funny, now that I think about it. A lot of socialists back in the 21st century have a very idealized view of these times, and they try to emulate things like the Wobblies and Haywood.
KEYES: There's an emphasis on "Try" there, isn't there?
LE: Yeah. I remember going to this meeting with the… what was it? Revolutionary Communist Party? Nice enough people, but they seemed to be more-interested in talking about appealing to the masses, instead of actually trying to.
KEYES: That's the Bob Avakian group, right?
LE: Yeah. They're dedicated, but they aren't good at convincing anyone who doesn't already agree with them. Honestly, that's kind of the big difference between the Socialists in the future and now: The socialists these days are better at persuasion.
KEYES: This could be because Marx is more-relevant. After all, he died less than fifty years ago.
LE: I could see that. But I think the big thing that leads to the SPA's relative success compared to their modern counterparts is that they "Touch Grass," instead of around telling people to "Read Theory," or "Watch This Video Essay."
LEIGH: A video essay?
KEYES: Documentaries, Cat. Something like that, anyways.
LE: Yeah. I can only speak for America, but the SPA seems to be doing a good job of telling people what they want to say in a way the people want to hear it.
KEYES: Maybe, but the lack of a Red Scare definitely helps with that. There's no Soviet Union to fearmonger over, and the response to the Left Bloc in France pales in comparison.
LE: Yeah, that's something I've noticed. The French are probably more-powerful than the Soviet Union after the Second World War, yet the average American doesn't have the same reaction as they did the Soviets.
LEIGH: Aren't they in a coalition with the Radicals?
KEYES: They are. And they still refer to themselves as the Third Republic, which probably ties into what Le was saying about saying things how others want to hear it.
LE: Basically. I mean, the French have nationalized company after company, but most people still see them as a Radical state, rather than a Socialist one. And this is despite Project RISE.
LEIGH: Doesn't China also have multiple state-owned enterprises?
LE: Yeah, it does… I guess that explains it.
KEYES: Welcome, listeners to the Old Meets New Podcast, your home for Downtimer and Uptimer conversations broadcasting live from Hong King, China. I'm your host, Phillip from the Future.
LEIGH: And I'm your host Cat from the past. Now Phil, do you want to introduce our guest today? I have heard he's come a long way, hasn't he?"
KEYES: *Exaggerated groan* Cat, you say that about everyone from the future. But yes, our special guest is Defense Minister Le Van Ninh of the Republic of Indochina.
LE: Thanks for having me on.
LEIGH: And thank you for being here. Please tell us about yourself.
LE: Well, I was born in Los Angeles to Vietnamese refugees, did a couple tours in Afghanistan, fought with the YPG in Syria-
LEIGH: My apologies, but what is the YPG?
LE: The short answer is that the YPG, or the "People's Defense Forces," is- was…
KEYES: Yeah, it still gets confusing, doesn't it?
LE: Tell me about it. Anyways, they're basically the defense forces of the Syrian Democratic forces located in Northern Syria. I was part of the International Freedom Battalion, and I was on my way home before my flight got diverted to Taipei.
LEIGH: Could you tell us more about the International Freedom Battalion? Is it anything like the Chinese Foreign Legion?
LE: Actually, yes. The IFB was a foreign legion that mainly consisted of socialists who came from all over the world to fight with the Kurds, largely on ideological grounds.
KEYES: Not to get too off-topic here, but you ended up joining the Chinese Foreign Legion, fought in the Revolution, worked with the Indochinese Independence movement, trained the Indochinese Division, fought with them during the Great War, and ended up as the Defense Minister of the Republic of Indochina.
LE: Basically.
LEIGH: Quite an impressive record, if I may say so.
LE: Yeah, that happens when you're one of the few people who has military experience and can speak Vietnamese.
KEYES: Right. So, given your experience, would you say that you are a sort of socialist?
LE: That was a lifetime ago, Phil, but yes, you could say I'm somewhere on the Left.
LEIGH: And that is why you are here. Could you provide us some insight about about the Uptimer socialist movement?
LE: I guess? Well, you have some countries where it's big like in Ecuador, Venezuela, Spain or Brazil or France, but things like the Socialist Party of America or the Left Bloc in France don't really exist in either of those countries.
KEYES: Because of the Cold War, right?
LE: Yeah. Sure, there are people like Sanders, AOC, Corbyn, Melenchon, and all of them, but they're more the exception than the rule in "Western" countries.
LEIGH: Why is that?
LE: Well, about half a century of a Cold War against the Russians with a shit-ton… Sorry, can I say that?
KEYES: Sure.
LE: But yeah, it's a combination of factors, and I can only speak about America. But in America, the Socialist Left is largely non-existent. Sure, you have Progressives like Governor Olson up in Minnesota, but outright members of the SPA like Representatives Fiorello La Guardia and Jack Reed are practically un-electable outside of a few exceptions.
LEIGH: And this is attributable to the Cold War?
LE: Kinda… But I guess a big thing is that things are fundamentally different. For example, West Virginia is one of the most conservative states in America, and a lot of modern socialist support comes from the middle and upper class. Not all, but a lot of the talking heads do.
LEIGH: As opposed to now, where socialists in America tend to be more working-class in perspective?
LE: You could say that. Sure, a lot fewer people are college-educated than in the future, so it's no surprise that there are more Big Bill Haywoods these days, even if Jack Reed is still a thing.
LEIGH: And this brings perspective, in your eyes?
LE: It's complicated, but yeah. It's kinda funny, now that I think about it. A lot of socialists back in the 21st century have a very idealized view of these times, and they try to emulate things like the Wobblies and Haywood.
KEYES: There's an emphasis on "Try" there, isn't there?
LE: Yeah. I remember going to this meeting with the… what was it? Revolutionary Communist Party? Nice enough people, but they seemed to be more-interested in talking about appealing to the masses, instead of actually trying to.
KEYES: That's the Bob Avakian group, right?
LE: Yeah. They're dedicated, but they aren't good at convincing anyone who doesn't already agree with them. Honestly, that's kind of the big difference between the Socialists in the future and now: The socialists these days are better at persuasion.
KEYES: This could be because Marx is more-relevant. After all, he died less than fifty years ago.
LE: I could see that. But I think the big thing that leads to the SPA's relative success compared to their modern counterparts is that they "Touch Grass," instead of around telling people to "Read Theory," or "Watch This Video Essay."
LEIGH: A video essay?
KEYES: Documentaries, Cat. Something like that, anyways.
LE: Yeah. I can only speak for America, but the SPA seems to be doing a good job of telling people what they want to say in a way the people want to hear it.
KEYES: Maybe, but the lack of a Red Scare definitely helps with that. There's no Soviet Union to fearmonger over, and the response to the Left Bloc in France pales in comparison.
LE: Yeah, that's something I've noticed. The French are probably more-powerful than the Soviet Union after the Second World War, yet the average American doesn't have the same reaction as they did the Soviets.
LEIGH: Aren't they in a coalition with the Radicals?
KEYES: They are. And they still refer to themselves as the Third Republic, which probably ties into what Le was saying about saying things how others want to hear it.
LE: Basically. I mean, the French have nationalized company after company, but most people still see them as a Radical state, rather than a Socialist one. And this is despite Project RISE.
LEIGH: Doesn't China also have multiple state-owned enterprises?
LE: Yeah, it does… I guess that explains it.
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ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Truth be told, half the reason I wanted to write this was so I could use the phrase "Touch Grass" in a sentence.
The other half is that I wanted to see how the ISOT would affect the Socialist movement of the US, and it boils down to the SPA going out of their way to stay together and American society being without a Red Scare to turn public opinion against their movement.
The other half is that I wanted to see how the ISOT would affect the Socialist movement of the US, and it boils down to the SPA going out of their way to stay together and American society being without a Red Scare to turn public opinion against their movement.
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No Free Rides
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Manila, Philippines, 30 April 1930
"Seatbelts on?" Laura Tsu-Madden asked her daughters as she pulled out of the driveway. "Ria? Alicia?"
"Do we have to?" One of them whined. To be honest, she didn't know which of the twins complained, but Laura didn't care too much.
"Yes, anak. You have to wear the seatbelt, or else you'll fly through the windshield if we crash."
"…Oh." That was enough for Alicia to relent. "…Is it really that big of a deal, Nanay?"
McArdle, Ross. "Seatbelts: A Modernist Hysteria." New York Times Opinion Section, 2 May 1930.
Knowledge of the future has brought us many advancements. Be it television, radio, rocketry, and computing, there are so many inventions that can bring us forward.
However, there are just as many things that can hold us back. Never is this more emblematic than the seatbelt laws that are being recommended all over the world.
While seemingly well-intentioned, this is but a symptom of the future's psychological hypochondria at any sort of risk. Indeed, it is this impractical mindset that has poisoned so many Americans to the point of denying themselves of their own freedoms.
It is this risk-aversion from the so-called Lost History that is denying people the progress that they came to enjoy. Just as coal-powered industry is necessary to create the more-expensive Green Energy that kore environmentally-minded Americans so laud, seatbelt requirements would almost-certainly make cars more-unaffordable to the average American to the point that Americans won't be saved because they can't afford the automobile in the first place.
It is high time that Americans finally take a stand against the collective hypochondria that prevents us from seeing the progress we need to remain a competitive nation.
Dodge Brothers Plant, Seattle, Washington, United States of America, 25 May 1930
"As one of the first to bring the seatbelt to America," John Francis Dodge said to the crowd, "I would like to celebrate ten years of having the safest vehicles in America. Now, without further ado, I'll be taking questions. Yes, you in the back."
"James Mayfield, San Francisco Chronicle. What do you say about the allegations that seatbelts lead to more intra-abdominal injuries and vertebrae fractures?"
"Alright," one of the Dodge brothers breathed, before thinking of what to say. "Which would you rather have in a car crash? A broken rib or a broken skull?"
"A broken rib, I suppose."
"And that's why we have seatbelts. Sure, there are more injuries, but that's better than more deaths like that journalist with the Times."
What was his name… Dreher? Douthat? McArdle?
"It's a tragedy, but had he been wearing a seatbelt, it is likely he would have survived, rather than smashing his head on the steering wheel. That is why we follow the damn safety standards, and you can quote me on that."
Cincinnati, Ohio, 2 June 1930
"Well, let's get this over with," Francis Wright sighed, before putting on all the protective gear. It was a real hassle, seeing that he not only had to put on a gas mask, but a whole protective suit as well. "City's paying us by the job, not the hour."
"I swear, they're going to be paying us to remove this asbestos crap for the next decade," one of his guys grumbled.
"Hey, you want to go back to mining, Jimmy? 'Cause I don't. We're making more money doing this than we ever did mining coal."
"And Uncle Sam's footing the bill," Johnny Hanson chimed in. "Can't get more job security than government contracts."
"Amen to that," Francis agreed. "I'll take pulling this shit out of every wall in America before I have to crawl into another damn mineshaft."
MIB Headquarters, Nanjing, Jiangsu Province, Republic of China, 20 June 1930
"They're still going at it, huh?" Director Li's secretary gave him a blank look. "The Americans."
"Is this about the Health and Safety Act Report, sir?" she asked. He nodded. "What's so funny about it?"
"You had to be there, Yen. See, when I was a kid in middle school America, and I'm talking Lost-History America, we had to watch some film for Sex Ed about AIDS. Real old-timey stuff. Anyways, the one thing I remember from that film was the narrator saying, "If you have sex, you will get AIDS, and you will die."
"And how does this relate to asbestos and seatbelts?"
"It's the PSAs they're doing in America. You've seen them, right?" he asked, before exaggerating what was left of his American accent. "'If you use asbestos, you will die. If you don't wear a seatbelt, you will die. If you use leaded gasoline, you will die stupid."
"Ah. It's a bit on the nose, isn't it?"
Li shrugged. "Sometimes that's the only way you can get the point across. Besides, it's not the worst method of getting people to do stupid things back in the 21st century."
"Okay," his secretary asked with much less formality. "What did the police do back then?"
"Oh boy..." Li sighed. "You know drunk driving, right?"
"Yes?"
"And you know how it's bad, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, the police figured that the best way to get me and the rest of the students to not drive drunk was to basically fake the deaths of about two dozen of our classmates all at once."
"...What? You're telling me that your local police department faked your classmates' deaths to convince you all not to drive while drunk?!"
"Yup. Basically two dozen people 'died' in one weekend in multiple drunk driving accidents."
"So they faked your classmates' deaths, and they did a terrible job? Permission to speak my mind, sir?"
"You know you don't have to do that when we're off-duty, right?"
"Oh I know." Li had been known for running an efficient ship, and the man valued results more than formalities. "But in all seriousness, what the fuck? How did this accomplish anything besides sowing distrust with authority?"
"Well, none of us drove while drunk; I can tell you that much," Li recalled. "We were smart enough to have designated drivers. That way, we could have all the fun of underage drinking without any of the risk of killing all of our friends."
"Seatbelts on?" Laura Tsu-Madden asked her daughters as she pulled out of the driveway. "Ria? Alicia?"
"Do we have to?" One of them whined. To be honest, she didn't know which of the twins complained, but Laura didn't care too much.
"Yes, anak. You have to wear the seatbelt, or else you'll fly through the windshield if we crash."
"…Oh." That was enough for Alicia to relent. "…Is it really that big of a deal, Nanay?"
McArdle, Ross. "Seatbelts: A Modernist Hysteria." New York Times Opinion Section, 2 May 1930.
Knowledge of the future has brought us many advancements. Be it television, radio, rocketry, and computing, there are so many inventions that can bring us forward.
However, there are just as many things that can hold us back. Never is this more emblematic than the seatbelt laws that are being recommended all over the world.
While seemingly well-intentioned, this is but a symptom of the future's psychological hypochondria at any sort of risk. Indeed, it is this impractical mindset that has poisoned so many Americans to the point of denying themselves of their own freedoms.
It is this risk-aversion from the so-called Lost History that is denying people the progress that they came to enjoy. Just as coal-powered industry is necessary to create the more-expensive Green Energy that kore environmentally-minded Americans so laud, seatbelt requirements would almost-certainly make cars more-unaffordable to the average American to the point that Americans won't be saved because they can't afford the automobile in the first place.
It is high time that Americans finally take a stand against the collective hypochondria that prevents us from seeing the progress we need to remain a competitive nation.
Dodge Brothers Plant, Seattle, Washington, United States of America, 25 May 1930
"As one of the first to bring the seatbelt to America," John Francis Dodge said to the crowd, "I would like to celebrate ten years of having the safest vehicles in America. Now, without further ado, I'll be taking questions. Yes, you in the back."
"James Mayfield, San Francisco Chronicle. What do you say about the allegations that seatbelts lead to more intra-abdominal injuries and vertebrae fractures?"
"Alright," one of the Dodge brothers breathed, before thinking of what to say. "Which would you rather have in a car crash? A broken rib or a broken skull?"
"A broken rib, I suppose."
"And that's why we have seatbelts. Sure, there are more injuries, but that's better than more deaths like that journalist with the Times."
What was his name… Dreher? Douthat? McArdle?
"It's a tragedy, but had he been wearing a seatbelt, it is likely he would have survived, rather than smashing his head on the steering wheel. That is why we follow the damn safety standards, and you can quote me on that."
Cincinnati, Ohio, 2 June 1930
"Well, let's get this over with," Francis Wright sighed, before putting on all the protective gear. It was a real hassle, seeing that he not only had to put on a gas mask, but a whole protective suit as well. "City's paying us by the job, not the hour."
"I swear, they're going to be paying us to remove this asbestos crap for the next decade," one of his guys grumbled.
"Hey, you want to go back to mining, Jimmy? 'Cause I don't. We're making more money doing this than we ever did mining coal."
"And Uncle Sam's footing the bill," Johnny Hanson chimed in. "Can't get more job security than government contracts."
"Amen to that," Francis agreed. "I'll take pulling this shit out of every wall in America before I have to crawl into another damn mineshaft."
MIB Headquarters, Nanjing, Jiangsu Province, Republic of China, 20 June 1930
"They're still going at it, huh?" Director Li's secretary gave him a blank look. "The Americans."
"Is this about the Health and Safety Act Report, sir?" she asked. He nodded. "What's so funny about it?"
"You had to be there, Yen. See, when I was a kid in middle school America, and I'm talking Lost-History America, we had to watch some film for Sex Ed about AIDS. Real old-timey stuff. Anyways, the one thing I remember from that film was the narrator saying, "If you have sex, you will get AIDS, and you will die."
"And how does this relate to asbestos and seatbelts?"
"It's the PSAs they're doing in America. You've seen them, right?" he asked, before exaggerating what was left of his American accent. "'If you use asbestos, you will die. If you don't wear a seatbelt, you will die. If you use leaded gasoline, you will die stupid."
"Ah. It's a bit on the nose, isn't it?"
Li shrugged. "Sometimes that's the only way you can get the point across. Besides, it's not the worst method of getting people to do stupid things back in the 21st century."
"Okay," his secretary asked with much less formality. "What did the police do back then?"
"Oh boy..." Li sighed. "You know drunk driving, right?"
"Yes?"
"And you know how it's bad, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, the police figured that the best way to get me and the rest of the students to not drive drunk was to basically fake the deaths of about two dozen of our classmates all at once."
"...What? You're telling me that your local police department faked your classmates' deaths to convince you all not to drive while drunk?!"
"Yup. Basically two dozen people 'died' in one weekend in multiple drunk driving accidents."
"So they faked your classmates' deaths, and they did a terrible job? Permission to speak my mind, sir?"
"You know you don't have to do that when we're off-duty, right?"
"Oh I know." Li had been known for running an efficient ship, and the man valued results more than formalities. "But in all seriousness, what the fuck? How did this accomplish anything besides sowing distrust with authority?"
"Well, none of us drove while drunk; I can tell you that much," Li recalled. "We were smart enough to have designated drivers. That way, we could have all the fun of underage drinking without any of the risk of killing all of our friends."
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ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'll be honest, I was planning on that last part being commentary, but it actually happened to me when I was in school I figured somebody from the past would basically say "What the Hell is wrong with you people?!"
Well, except for the Designated Driver thing. See, I was never cool enough to get invited to all the parties.
Well, except for the Designated Driver thing. See, I was never cool enough to get invited to all the parties.
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lmao i see what you did there
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'll be honest, the one thing Twitter is useful for is seeing the stupidest takes on the planet, because it gives me a starting point for discussing and deconstructing concepts.
For example, I remember seeing some anarchist on Twitter being asked how they would produce vital medications in a communal setting, and they came up with possibly the dumbest answers ever.
So I took that question (supply chains and complex manufacturing), broke it down, and that's how I ended up with the section where Nestor Makhno discusses the issues of anarchism when it comes to supply chains and complex manufacturing, as well as ways to address it.
GhostStalker
Jeopardy! contestant
- Location
- NYC
Same, even if I had to Google the first name. Unfortunately, I'm very acquainted with Douthat.
Chapter 70: Into The Fire
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States of America, 4 July 1930
It was a bright, sunny day in Pittsburgh. That was not something Representative Smedley Darlington Butler ever thought he'd see.
No, it wasn't the fact that Pittsburgh wasn't his district. Not when he had been using every one of his father's (and by extension his predecessor's) connections to go for Reed's Senate seat in 1934.
The simple fact of it was that he'd never thought he'd see a clear blue sky in the middle of America's foremost industrial centers.
He could still remember how it looked decades ago, with smog so thick that the city had to use gas lights during the daytime.
These days, the skies were clearer and the air smelled… well, it smelled better than before. Sure, there was still the smell of industry, but at least he could smell things that weren't coal-fired pollution.
It was a success. A resounding success the likes of which his father had never seen, despite personally pushing through the Clean Energy Development Act.
An omnibus bill, it sought to bring Modernist technologies to America that would allow them to breathe cleaner air without the cost of lowering industrial capacity.
While yes, they were still largely-reliant on the Chinese for parts and machinery, the fact remained that the turbines, solar panels, and natural gas-related equipment was now assembled in America, by Americans, and for Americans.
The sight before the younger Butler was over a decade in the making, to the point that his father died before he could see the fruits of his politicking.
It wasn't a "One Simple Trick." If anything, it was the opposite of that.
Between switching to natural gas, building renewables in bulk, pollution standards, and carbon capture implementation, the American Congress had elected to "Throw everything at the wall and see what works."
The answer for what to do about pollution turned out to be, for lack of a better term, "Everything."
Sure, renewables weren't enough right now, and carbon capture would be pricey if it weren't for the government subsidies and trade agreements with the Chinese. But the combination of this "Everything" was what had turned Pittsburgh, like so many other cities, into models for cleaning up industrialization all over the world.
Would it be completely clean? No. Natural gas was cleaner than coal, but it still created some pollution. Not to mention that carbon capture was still in its infancy, even at the time the Islanders were sent back in time.
There would be work to do. There would always be work to do.
But the simple fact that Pittsburgh could see the sky in the middle of the day proved that change was possible. A country with cleaner air, cleaner water, and an America that was just healthier was worth it.
Port of Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Republic of Brazil, 6 July 1930
The SS Dom Pedro II was no stranger to travelers. Henrique da Silva had known as much after working on the ship for years, ever since the war had ended.
He was a lucky man. One didn't survive the annihilation of the Portuguese Navy without a bit of luck, and that was before the dreadnought he had been serving on had been sunk.
Truth be told, he actually liked the civilian sector more. Sure, the pay was average, but the demand for sailors and lack of Chinese and French planes strafing you every other day provided for excellent job security. So when he was released from the POW camps at the end of the war, the first thing he did was sign up to a Brazilian shipping company.
It wasn't like he had that many career options. The French were doing their best to rebuild Lisbon with Chinese aid, but nobody could simply rebuild an entire economy after half a decade of bombing and battles. Recovery would take time, even with help from the island of the future.
Shipping was where the money was. Well, shipping, immigrating overseas for work, and shipping immigrants overseas for work.
His employer had chosen Options 1 and 3, and that was how he'd gotten his job. Sure, their home country of Brazil was having an economic and baby boom after the revolution, but they needed enough working-age men (and in some cases, women) to work all the new machines and vehicles they had been importing.
Hence the very open immigration policies in a Brazil that was more-than-happy to accommodate all of those Portuguese settlers who were fleeing the colonies. Between them, former German colonials, and literal boatloads of economic refugees who wanted to try their luck in the New World instead of waiting for Reconstruction under the Socialists or the Asiatics, ships like the Dom Pedro II were busy.
It was a fairly simple business, as far as Henrique was concerned. They would go to a former colony in Africa or a displaced-persons camp in Europe, take on passengers who had registered with the Brazilian Embassy, and the Dom Pedro II would sail over to Brazil. There, the passengers would be settled and set up with jobs by the Revolutionary government, while his employer would be paid a transporter's fee.
It was a simple process he'd done over a dozen and a half times. Over two dozen, if he counted the times his ship had carried Italians and Spaniards to Argentina. The language was a bit different, but he'd picked up enough Spanish in his travels to understand what the passengers were saying.
This would be his last voyage.
He wasn't retiring. Henrique was 29 years old, and he planned to live on for twice that many years.
But when your fiancée of half a decade and both of your families were finally coming over because you had saved up enough money, well, some things came first. That, and the sailor's life was for single men, not those with a wife, family, and even a few unintentional children.
Henrique's days of sailing were over. Gone were the days of a girl in every port, which would be replaced with a single woman in a house they'd share with their family.
Ana and I would always talk about this, back when we were children. About how we'd run away and live a life together.
This is close enough. More than enough, now that her father wasn't around to tell me to "Stay away from my daughter."
Old man Joao Ribeiro was many things. A conservative army officer from a family of conservative army officers, he had always intended to find a husband of "Good Pedigree" for his only daughter. To his dismay, his daughter only had eyes for her childhood friend, the son of a local shopkeeper.
Even arranging a marriage with a trusted subordinate hadn't been enough to keep the childhood friends apart, despite Ana's protests.
Not that you can stop us now, old man. Ana's made her choice, and she chose me.
The thought still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sure, Ana's father was a terrible person who seemed to disregard any semblance of free will for his daughter, but it wasn't as if Henrique was happy the old man had gotten himself killed in Angola. No, if anything, he felt nothing towards the father of his bride-to-be who hated every aspect of him as much as Ana loved him.
That was then. This was now. He was dead in a military cemetery in Portugal. They were alive on a ship entering Rio for what might just be his last voyage.
"Ready?" a voice asked behind him. He turned around to see her, along with the two-year-old holding her hand.
Their two-year-old holding her hand.
Henrique could say something, but he'd never been able to say the right thing. Thankfully, Ana had found it endearing, and their child thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
Instead, he just made room for them on the railings, so that his family-to-be could see the city that they would soon call home.
Drumcondra, Dublin, County Dublin, Republic of Ireland, 15 July 1930
"Christ."
That was all Patrick Shanahan could say at the sight before him. While on the outside, it looked like a run-of-the-mill laundry that had been losing money to the machinery, the women who worked there had said horror story after horror story.
Abuse in all its forms, be it physical, psychological, or God-forbid, sexual, had been rampant in this place.
That was before they found the mass graves.
What had started off as an off-handed tip from one of the Uptimer advisors had spiraled into an outright criminal investigation that would be his trial by fire as a detective.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd handled murder cases before, and this wasn't murder. Murder implied a conscious attempt to kill somebody.
This, on the other hand, was "merely" the burial of over a hundred abused women in unmarked graves whose names could be lost to history because the nuns didn't do their fucking paperwork.
That was what had infuriated him the most about this. Yes, he considered himself a devout Catholic to the point that these abuses were an outright affront to God in his eyes, but the sheer carelessness of the administrators to provide the basic dignity of filing the Goddamned paperwork and just tossing these poor women into a grave was an outrage.
He could only shake his head as half the forensics team worked carefully to exhume the bodies for identification while the other half combed through the archives to connect every corpse to a name.
It would be a long process, and that was after he had to fight tooth-and-nail for an investigation. The Catholic Church was a sacred institution in Ireland, after all, and the newly-minted Republic had been hesitant to spend what little political capital they had on investigating one of their biggest supporters.
But Detective Shanahan had his way. And if his luck held out, he would be able to identify as many of these women as possible.
God knows it's the least we can do for them.
Well, that, and tearing this place to the feckin' ground. I don't know if it's what they wanted, but I'll be damned if I let this continue.
Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul, Providence, Rhode Island, United States of America, 28 July 1930
Giovanni Costanza would normally be excited to see a large crowd gathering outside the Cathedral. More people outside the Cathedral meant more people going into mass, and God knew they needed more people in the pews ever since the abuse allegations had come to light.
"Operation Spotlight," as the journalists had called it, was a 1922 Providence Journal and Boston Globe joint project investigating allegations of child abuse in the Catholic Church. Inspired by its Lost History counterpart, the Diocese of Providence and the Archdiocese of Boston saw a wave of tips from alleged victims that the team would follow up on.
The results were... disconcerting, to say the least. While the Bishop and Archbishop had described the veritably accused as "Bad Apples," the damage had been done. Operation Spotlight would be copied all over the United States, with the Church's dirty laundry being spilled in all its forms.
In the cities it was child abuse and corruption, but the Residential Schools and the American Indian Boarding Schools in the rural areas had also drawn the general public's ire. While many an American could excuse racism, they drew the line at dead children, and the ensuing wildfire had engulfed the Catholic Church in the New World.
Had it not been for a similar wave of reports coming from Protestant denominations, Giovanni had no doubt that there would be another wave of anti-Catholic discrimination. To this day, he didn't know how to feel about how the American Catholicism's saving grace might have been the fact that there were Protestants who were also guilty of child abuse and corruption.
It was a wave of revelation, just as it was a wave of outrage. Church attendance had plummeted, whether it be the Catholics, Lutherans, Mormons, Anglicans, Baptists, or the "Revelationists," as the Modernist-opposed Protestant sect had called themselves. Even the "Testers," the religious group that saw everything as a test from God had their share of abusers.
They all shared in the presence of abusers. Some had many, while others had a handful, but this was a problem that they all had to deal with.
The different sects would react in their own way, with leadership almost-universally condemning the guilty. For his part, Pope Pius XI had been clear: "Remove the guilty and cooperate with the authorities." Normally a bookish man, the Pope's temper came through in his sermons, where he would decry the abuse as a "Betrayal of the Faithful, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," and vowed to expunge it from the Catholic Church.
That was why Giovanni was here in Providence. A Jesuit educated in Rome, he was the epitome of obedience. So when Pope Pius XI asked for volunteers to oversee the response, he had been the first to volunteer.
It had been hard. Church politics were always cutthroat, even if the Vatican was no longer run by the Borgia or the Medici. America was no exception.
Whether it was out of loyalty or reputation, Giovanni had to use every single trick he'd learned dealing with the intricacies of the Holy See to guilt, persuade, or outright browbeat people into confessing and complying with the authorities. And what did he have to show for it?
A bunch of angry Catholics calling themselves the "Catholic League" going around and giving apologia for the abuses that the Pope had not only acknowledged, but condemned. These were men (They were always men) who claimed to fight anti-Catholicism in quite possibly the worst way possible, be it blaming the child abuse on homosexuals or outright denying the abuses of the Laundries and the Residential Schools.
In their eyes, the Catholic Church could do no wrong and this was the work of "Untrue Catholics," as they called the abusers. Truth be told, Giovanni sympathized with them on some level. After all, he generally saw the Catholic Church as a force for good, seeing that he had not only become a priest, but had taken vows of poverty, chastity, and disobedience.
But these people? They were doing more harm than good. Rather than acknowledge the problem, they would simply blame somebody else or deny it entirely. Whenever he, or any other Catholic, did anything to the contrary, they would decry it as "Capitulating to the anti-Catholics,' and call them "Traitors."
Well, not him, anyways. It was hard to go around and say that the Pope's emissary was a traitor to Catholicism after all, but he knew full well that they didn't like him.
To this, Giovanni could only sigh. He wanted to scream, but that would be unbecoming of a papal emissary, a priest, and his own self-respect.
Here he was, trying to do what he could to salvage the Catholic Church's reputation, and their leader William D. Hughes was outside, seemingly doing everything he could to fan the flames of anti-Catholicism.
If he still had hair, the old Jesuit would have probably ripped it out at this point in frustration, as for all the problems the Catholic church had, their most vocal (self-appointed) defenders were seemingly the worst people he could have asked for!
Would they destroy the church? No, they wouldn't. The revelations of abuse wouldn't destroy the church, either (even if it did lead to lower church attendance and donations).
But this was a delicate and difficult situation that he had to manage, and the Catholic League seemed intent on making his job as hard as possible.
Tarzi, Rahim. A Decade of Progress in Afghanistan. Kabul, Royal Printing House, 1930.
INTRODUCTION
It is remarkable how far our kingdom has come in a decade. While many may point to the Chinese as the perfect example of modernization, I would argue that Afghanistan has surpassed them in the sheer amount of progress in such a short period of time.
This is not to deny the accomplishments of our eastern neighbors. After all, it is with their assistance that we were able to modernize our nation so fast while staving off the Saqqawists and the Khost Rebellion. However, the Chinese did not have to contend with a hostile geography, rampant banditry, and the sheer underdevelopment of much of our nation at the turn of the decade.
Yet through perseverance, knowledge of the future, as well as a marked improvement in the quality of life for the average subject with regard to famine, life expectancy, infant mortality, and maternal mortality, Ghazi Amanullah Khan has been able to maintain a consistent level of public support for his reforms that has seen Afghanistan join the list of emerging nations.
While it is unlikely that Afghanistan will ever rise to a regional power, the fact remains that the Ghazi Amanullah Khan has manage to surpass his Lost History self with flying colors.
Fong, Rachel. The Implications of Arms Proliferation in Mexico. Nanjing, Military Intelligence Bureau, 1930.
SUMMARY
Given the success of the Treaty of Aguascalientes, as well as its side-effects (a more-stable Mexico as well as the survival and ascension of President Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata), it is clear that Mexico will serve as a counter-weight to the United States in Northern and Central America. Though the Americans and Mexicans have seen some rapprochement in the 1925 Austin Agreement that acknowledged the Revolutionary government and normalized trade, the two nations have often been at odds with regard to foreign policy in the Caribbean as well as Central America.
While the United States has taken a lighter hand compared to the Lost History (particularly the lack of Marines deployed in the region), it is clear that Washington has not shied away from working with strongmen, in particular Somoza in Nicaragua. In contrast, the more leftist-aligned Mexico has supported ideologically-similar movements such as Augusto Sandino's after Somoza seized power in 1928.
Given these circumstances, it is likely that the Mexican government is arming Sandino with modern equipment, particularly Mexican-designed derivatives of our own firearms. While these weapons are similar to the M1916 rifles imported from the United States, it is likely a step up from the bolt-action rifles that Sandino had used in the Lost History.
Given our generally-positive relations with both the Americans and the Mexicans, it is recommended that the MIB (and by extension Nanjing) does not intervene on behalf of Somoza. Rather, it is recommended that we maintain the status quo and not recognize Somoza as the legitimate government.
In the event that we wish to arm Sandino for geopolitical or ideological reasons, it is recommended that arms be acquired through second-hand sources and then "laundered" through our contacts in Mexico so as to limit any implication on our part. For example, captured Alliance equipment stockpiles from the Great War would be a viable weapon, given the universal adoption of 5.56 mm ammunition and NA STANAG in the buildup to the war, as well as the plausible deniability that comes with using non-Chinese equipment.
It was a bright, sunny day in Pittsburgh. That was not something Representative Smedley Darlington Butler ever thought he'd see.
No, it wasn't the fact that Pittsburgh wasn't his district. Not when he had been using every one of his father's (and by extension his predecessor's) connections to go for Reed's Senate seat in 1934.
The simple fact of it was that he'd never thought he'd see a clear blue sky in the middle of America's foremost industrial centers.
He could still remember how it looked decades ago, with smog so thick that the city had to use gas lights during the daytime.
These days, the skies were clearer and the air smelled… well, it smelled better than before. Sure, there was still the smell of industry, but at least he could smell things that weren't coal-fired pollution.
It was a success. A resounding success the likes of which his father had never seen, despite personally pushing through the Clean Energy Development Act.
An omnibus bill, it sought to bring Modernist technologies to America that would allow them to breathe cleaner air without the cost of lowering industrial capacity.
While yes, they were still largely-reliant on the Chinese for parts and machinery, the fact remained that the turbines, solar panels, and natural gas-related equipment was now assembled in America, by Americans, and for Americans.
The sight before the younger Butler was over a decade in the making, to the point that his father died before he could see the fruits of his politicking.
It wasn't a "One Simple Trick." If anything, it was the opposite of that.
Between switching to natural gas, building renewables in bulk, pollution standards, and carbon capture implementation, the American Congress had elected to "Throw everything at the wall and see what works."
The answer for what to do about pollution turned out to be, for lack of a better term, "Everything."
Sure, renewables weren't enough right now, and carbon capture would be pricey if it weren't for the government subsidies and trade agreements with the Chinese. But the combination of this "Everything" was what had turned Pittsburgh, like so many other cities, into models for cleaning up industrialization all over the world.
Would it be completely clean? No. Natural gas was cleaner than coal, but it still created some pollution. Not to mention that carbon capture was still in its infancy, even at the time the Islanders were sent back in time.
There would be work to do. There would always be work to do.
But the simple fact that Pittsburgh could see the sky in the middle of the day proved that change was possible. A country with cleaner air, cleaner water, and an America that was just healthier was worth it.
Port of Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Republic of Brazil, 6 July 1930
The SS Dom Pedro II was no stranger to travelers. Henrique da Silva had known as much after working on the ship for years, ever since the war had ended.
He was a lucky man. One didn't survive the annihilation of the Portuguese Navy without a bit of luck, and that was before the dreadnought he had been serving on had been sunk.
Truth be told, he actually liked the civilian sector more. Sure, the pay was average, but the demand for sailors and lack of Chinese and French planes strafing you every other day provided for excellent job security. So when he was released from the POW camps at the end of the war, the first thing he did was sign up to a Brazilian shipping company.
It wasn't like he had that many career options. The French were doing their best to rebuild Lisbon with Chinese aid, but nobody could simply rebuild an entire economy after half a decade of bombing and battles. Recovery would take time, even with help from the island of the future.
Shipping was where the money was. Well, shipping, immigrating overseas for work, and shipping immigrants overseas for work.
His employer had chosen Options 1 and 3, and that was how he'd gotten his job. Sure, their home country of Brazil was having an economic and baby boom after the revolution, but they needed enough working-age men (and in some cases, women) to work all the new machines and vehicles they had been importing.
Hence the very open immigration policies in a Brazil that was more-than-happy to accommodate all of those Portuguese settlers who were fleeing the colonies. Between them, former German colonials, and literal boatloads of economic refugees who wanted to try their luck in the New World instead of waiting for Reconstruction under the Socialists or the Asiatics, ships like the Dom Pedro II were busy.
It was a fairly simple business, as far as Henrique was concerned. They would go to a former colony in Africa or a displaced-persons camp in Europe, take on passengers who had registered with the Brazilian Embassy, and the Dom Pedro II would sail over to Brazil. There, the passengers would be settled and set up with jobs by the Revolutionary government, while his employer would be paid a transporter's fee.
It was a simple process he'd done over a dozen and a half times. Over two dozen, if he counted the times his ship had carried Italians and Spaniards to Argentina. The language was a bit different, but he'd picked up enough Spanish in his travels to understand what the passengers were saying.
This would be his last voyage.
He wasn't retiring. Henrique was 29 years old, and he planned to live on for twice that many years.
But when your fiancée of half a decade and both of your families were finally coming over because you had saved up enough money, well, some things came first. That, and the sailor's life was for single men, not those with a wife, family, and even a few unintentional children.
Henrique's days of sailing were over. Gone were the days of a girl in every port, which would be replaced with a single woman in a house they'd share with their family.
Ana and I would always talk about this, back when we were children. About how we'd run away and live a life together.
This is close enough. More than enough, now that her father wasn't around to tell me to "Stay away from my daughter."
Old man Joao Ribeiro was many things. A conservative army officer from a family of conservative army officers, he had always intended to find a husband of "Good Pedigree" for his only daughter. To his dismay, his daughter only had eyes for her childhood friend, the son of a local shopkeeper.
Even arranging a marriage with a trusted subordinate hadn't been enough to keep the childhood friends apart, despite Ana's protests.
Not that you can stop us now, old man. Ana's made her choice, and she chose me.
The thought still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sure, Ana's father was a terrible person who seemed to disregard any semblance of free will for his daughter, but it wasn't as if Henrique was happy the old man had gotten himself killed in Angola. No, if anything, he felt nothing towards the father of his bride-to-be who hated every aspect of him as much as Ana loved him.
That was then. This was now. He was dead in a military cemetery in Portugal. They were alive on a ship entering Rio for what might just be his last voyage.
"Ready?" a voice asked behind him. He turned around to see her, along with the two-year-old holding her hand.
Their two-year-old holding her hand.
Henrique could say something, but he'd never been able to say the right thing. Thankfully, Ana had found it endearing, and their child thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
Instead, he just made room for them on the railings, so that his family-to-be could see the city that they would soon call home.
Drumcondra, Dublin, County Dublin, Republic of Ireland, 15 July 1930
"Christ."
That was all Patrick Shanahan could say at the sight before him. While on the outside, it looked like a run-of-the-mill laundry that had been losing money to the machinery, the women who worked there had said horror story after horror story.
Abuse in all its forms, be it physical, psychological, or God-forbid, sexual, had been rampant in this place.
That was before they found the mass graves.
What had started off as an off-handed tip from one of the Uptimer advisors had spiraled into an outright criminal investigation that would be his trial by fire as a detective.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd handled murder cases before, and this wasn't murder. Murder implied a conscious attempt to kill somebody.
This, on the other hand, was "merely" the burial of over a hundred abused women in unmarked graves whose names could be lost to history because the nuns didn't do their fucking paperwork.
That was what had infuriated him the most about this. Yes, he considered himself a devout Catholic to the point that these abuses were an outright affront to God in his eyes, but the sheer carelessness of the administrators to provide the basic dignity of filing the Goddamned paperwork and just tossing these poor women into a grave was an outrage.
He could only shake his head as half the forensics team worked carefully to exhume the bodies for identification while the other half combed through the archives to connect every corpse to a name.
It would be a long process, and that was after he had to fight tooth-and-nail for an investigation. The Catholic Church was a sacred institution in Ireland, after all, and the newly-minted Republic had been hesitant to spend what little political capital they had on investigating one of their biggest supporters.
But Detective Shanahan had his way. And if his luck held out, he would be able to identify as many of these women as possible.
God knows it's the least we can do for them.
Well, that, and tearing this place to the feckin' ground. I don't know if it's what they wanted, but I'll be damned if I let this continue.
Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul, Providence, Rhode Island, United States of America, 28 July 1930
Giovanni Costanza would normally be excited to see a large crowd gathering outside the Cathedral. More people outside the Cathedral meant more people going into mass, and God knew they needed more people in the pews ever since the abuse allegations had come to light.
"Operation Spotlight," as the journalists had called it, was a 1922 Providence Journal and Boston Globe joint project investigating allegations of child abuse in the Catholic Church. Inspired by its Lost History counterpart, the Diocese of Providence and the Archdiocese of Boston saw a wave of tips from alleged victims that the team would follow up on.
The results were... disconcerting, to say the least. While the Bishop and Archbishop had described the veritably accused as "Bad Apples," the damage had been done. Operation Spotlight would be copied all over the United States, with the Church's dirty laundry being spilled in all its forms.
In the cities it was child abuse and corruption, but the Residential Schools and the American Indian Boarding Schools in the rural areas had also drawn the general public's ire. While many an American could excuse racism, they drew the line at dead children, and the ensuing wildfire had engulfed the Catholic Church in the New World.
Had it not been for a similar wave of reports coming from Protestant denominations, Giovanni had no doubt that there would be another wave of anti-Catholic discrimination. To this day, he didn't know how to feel about how the American Catholicism's saving grace might have been the fact that there were Protestants who were also guilty of child abuse and corruption.
It was a wave of revelation, just as it was a wave of outrage. Church attendance had plummeted, whether it be the Catholics, Lutherans, Mormons, Anglicans, Baptists, or the "Revelationists," as the Modernist-opposed Protestant sect had called themselves. Even the "Testers," the religious group that saw everything as a test from God had their share of abusers.
They all shared in the presence of abusers. Some had many, while others had a handful, but this was a problem that they all had to deal with.
The different sects would react in their own way, with leadership almost-universally condemning the guilty. For his part, Pope Pius XI had been clear: "Remove the guilty and cooperate with the authorities." Normally a bookish man, the Pope's temper came through in his sermons, where he would decry the abuse as a "Betrayal of the Faithful, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," and vowed to expunge it from the Catholic Church.
That was why Giovanni was here in Providence. A Jesuit educated in Rome, he was the epitome of obedience. So when Pope Pius XI asked for volunteers to oversee the response, he had been the first to volunteer.
It had been hard. Church politics were always cutthroat, even if the Vatican was no longer run by the Borgia or the Medici. America was no exception.
Whether it was out of loyalty or reputation, Giovanni had to use every single trick he'd learned dealing with the intricacies of the Holy See to guilt, persuade, or outright browbeat people into confessing and complying with the authorities. And what did he have to show for it?
A bunch of angry Catholics calling themselves the "Catholic League" going around and giving apologia for the abuses that the Pope had not only acknowledged, but condemned. These were men (They were always men) who claimed to fight anti-Catholicism in quite possibly the worst way possible, be it blaming the child abuse on homosexuals or outright denying the abuses of the Laundries and the Residential Schools.
In their eyes, the Catholic Church could do no wrong and this was the work of "Untrue Catholics," as they called the abusers. Truth be told, Giovanni sympathized with them on some level. After all, he generally saw the Catholic Church as a force for good, seeing that he had not only become a priest, but had taken vows of poverty, chastity, and disobedience.
But these people? They were doing more harm than good. Rather than acknowledge the problem, they would simply blame somebody else or deny it entirely. Whenever he, or any other Catholic, did anything to the contrary, they would decry it as "Capitulating to the anti-Catholics,' and call them "Traitors."
Well, not him, anyways. It was hard to go around and say that the Pope's emissary was a traitor to Catholicism after all, but he knew full well that they didn't like him.
To this, Giovanni could only sigh. He wanted to scream, but that would be unbecoming of a papal emissary, a priest, and his own self-respect.
Here he was, trying to do what he could to salvage the Catholic Church's reputation, and their leader William D. Hughes was outside, seemingly doing everything he could to fan the flames of anti-Catholicism.
If he still had hair, the old Jesuit would have probably ripped it out at this point in frustration, as for all the problems the Catholic church had, their most vocal (self-appointed) defenders were seemingly the worst people he could have asked for!
Would they destroy the church? No, they wouldn't. The revelations of abuse wouldn't destroy the church, either (even if it did lead to lower church attendance and donations).
But this was a delicate and difficult situation that he had to manage, and the Catholic League seemed intent on making his job as hard as possible.
Tarzi, Rahim. A Decade of Progress in Afghanistan. Kabul, Royal Printing House, 1930.
INTRODUCTION
It is remarkable how far our kingdom has come in a decade. While many may point to the Chinese as the perfect example of modernization, I would argue that Afghanistan has surpassed them in the sheer amount of progress in such a short period of time.
This is not to deny the accomplishments of our eastern neighbors. After all, it is with their assistance that we were able to modernize our nation so fast while staving off the Saqqawists and the Khost Rebellion. However, the Chinese did not have to contend with a hostile geography, rampant banditry, and the sheer underdevelopment of much of our nation at the turn of the decade.
Yet through perseverance, knowledge of the future, as well as a marked improvement in the quality of life for the average subject with regard to famine, life expectancy, infant mortality, and maternal mortality, Ghazi Amanullah Khan has been able to maintain a consistent level of public support for his reforms that has seen Afghanistan join the list of emerging nations.
While it is unlikely that Afghanistan will ever rise to a regional power, the fact remains that the Ghazi Amanullah Khan has manage to surpass his Lost History self with flying colors.
Fong, Rachel. The Implications of Arms Proliferation in Mexico. Nanjing, Military Intelligence Bureau, 1930.
SUMMARY
Given the success of the Treaty of Aguascalientes, as well as its side-effects (a more-stable Mexico as well as the survival and ascension of President Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata), it is clear that Mexico will serve as a counter-weight to the United States in Northern and Central America. Though the Americans and Mexicans have seen some rapprochement in the 1925 Austin Agreement that acknowledged the Revolutionary government and normalized trade, the two nations have often been at odds with regard to foreign policy in the Caribbean as well as Central America.
While the United States has taken a lighter hand compared to the Lost History (particularly the lack of Marines deployed in the region), it is clear that Washington has not shied away from working with strongmen, in particular Somoza in Nicaragua. In contrast, the more leftist-aligned Mexico has supported ideologically-similar movements such as Augusto Sandino's after Somoza seized power in 1928.
Given these circumstances, it is likely that the Mexican government is arming Sandino with modern equipment, particularly Mexican-designed derivatives of our own firearms. While these weapons are similar to the M1916 rifles imported from the United States, it is likely a step up from the bolt-action rifles that Sandino had used in the Lost History.
Given our generally-positive relations with both the Americans and the Mexicans, it is recommended that the MIB (and by extension Nanjing) does not intervene on behalf of Somoza. Rather, it is recommended that we maintain the status quo and not recognize Somoza as the legitimate government.
In the event that we wish to arm Sandino for geopolitical or ideological reasons, it is recommended that arms be acquired through second-hand sources and then "laundered" through our contacts in Mexico so as to limit any implication on our part. For example, captured Alliance equipment stockpiles from the Great War would be a viable weapon, given the universal adoption of 5.56 mm ammunition and NA STANAG in the buildup to the war, as well as the plausible deniability that comes with using non-Chinese equipment.
- Location
- India
With Abuse scandal all around is there is increase of worshippers for Non Abrahamic religions? Buddhism or Hinduism?
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Probably not.
If growing up Catholic in New England in the wake of Spotlight has taught me anything, it's that people either stop showing up to Church, or they find a new sect of a similar faith.
These sorts of things tend to damage the followers' faith in the institution, rather than their personal religious beliefs. So a Catholic will still think/identify like a Catholic; they'll pray, but they might not show up for an institution they think is corrupt. If they do switch, they usually stick with Christianity
Well, that, or make excuses for abuse or deny it ever happened, but I'm not part of the Catholic League.
No, seriously, the Catholic League denies abuses happened in Magdalene laundries.
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