Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Reasonable Imperial Japan?
Oh, right this is set before they went FULL PRO GAMER MOVES.
A Second Sunrise: Taiwan of 2020 Sent Back to 1911
- Thread starter ChrisProvidence
- Start date
- Original Modern Post-1900
Oh, right this is set before they went FULL PRO GAMER MOVES.
- Location
- Logan, Queensland, australia
So... over population is going to be an issue much faster then? So is keeping up a basic standard of living for a much increased population. They better get focused on terraforming moon, mars... maybe research mega space structures so that the extra population has some place to live? Unless the story goes full sci-fi and invents FTL to find inhabitable exo planets.
I know science says Earth can support 20+ billion confortably if it was managed wisely, but...
enbylvania
Self-Requested Ban
- Location
- some other dimension
- Pronouns
- They/She/He
Regardless of belief in whether overpopulation is a myth (my belief), I feel population growth is going to be slower because there's a rapid introduction of modern contraceptive methods, family planning and the various economic pressures that help create low fertility rates in present day OTL's highly developed countries.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yup. I mean, there were still a lot of abuses by 1911, but a lot of the worst probably gets butterflied away.
Which is a fancy way to say that Japan got the imperialism beat out of them.
Chapter 74: The New Order
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bishop Thomas Hendricken High School, Providence, Rhode Island, United States of America, 16 February 1932
"Okay class," said Peter O'Brien, "What makes America unique?"
It was a simple enough question, but the students were still silent.
"Religion?" One student asked, after raising his hand. "America was founded on Christian values, wasn't it?"
"Which Christian values?" O'Brien countered. "Pennsylvania was founded by Quakers, Maryland by Catholics, Massachusetts by Puritans, and our own state on religious freedom by a Baptist. Not to mention that the Founding Fathers themselves had vastly different ideas about religion."
And that was before he got into the minutiae of how in all likelihood, at least one of those sects probably believed that the others were fake Christians who would burn in Hell for all of eternity. The future may be more-tolerant of Catholics, but the older generation still had their prejudices.
"Culture?" Another student offered, "Our country has its roots in British culture. The Quakers, Catholics, Puritans, and Rhode Islanders all trace our cultural legacy back to the colonists."
"Perhaps. But the same cannot be said of the African-Americans descended from slaves, let alone the Quebecois, First Nations, and all of the Mexicans from California to Texas. Sure, they act an awful lot like you or me, but I wouldn't call them English in their culture."
His student nodded, and that young man also relented.
"This is a discussion, class," O'Brien chuckled. The students just gave him an odd look. "We're here to discuss, so raise your hands."
"Ideology," a third student offered, "The United States was founded as a Democratic Republic, unlike almost most countries who were founded as monarchies."
"Perhaps," O'Brien figured. Truth be told, he was stalling for time to come up with an answer. "The United States was founded as a Democratic Republic... but the same could be said of France or the Republic of China or Korea."
"Wouldn't those count as successor states to monarchies that were overthrown in revolutions?"
"Well..."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
"It's semantics, James," O'Brien reassured the kid, "But for all intents and purposes, the United States is the successor to the colonial governments under the British Crown. Those governments which were..."
"...Overthrown in a Revolution," James finished for him. "But our democratic ideals are unique, aren't they?"
"Yes and No," the teacher said in his usual professorial tone. "While it's true that the United States is founded on (small-'D') democratic and (small-'R') ideals, those ideals are not exactly unique these days when you have governments like China, France, Mexico, Central America, Gran Colombia, Brazil, and plenty of other countries."
"The United States inspired them though, didn't they?" James asked, much to O'Brien's delight. Not only was the boy actually starting a dialogue, but he was getting closer to O'Brien's goal. "In doing so, wouldn't you say that they are, in a way, becoming like us?"
"Yes." That caught James off guard. "And that ties into what truly makes America unique. That anyone, anywhere, can be an American."
"I don't follow..."
"Those countries were inspired by our ideals, were they not?" James nodded. "Now, would you say that they are American?"
"I would say they are like Americans, but they are not American. Just as they wouldn't call us French or Chinese if we lived there."
"But if they lived here... they would be American, wouldn't they? Assuming they believe in Democracy, Republicanism, and all of those ideals we cherish, right?"
"I suppose so," James figured. "Wait... is that what makes us unique?"
"At the end of the day... yes. You can go to China to live, but you cannot become Chinese. You can go to France to live and not become an American. But anyone from any corner of the world can come to American and become an American. Sure, you might be Italian-American, Anglo-American, African-American, or Irish American, but you're still an American at the end of the day, and that isn't something that can be said for France or China."
"Really?" Another student interrupted, "Do the Chinese and the French not accept immigrants from all around the world?"
"They do," O'Brien admitted, "But if you go to France to live and don't act like a French person, they'll strongly-encourage you to speak the lingua franca. And while the Chinese might not have cared about me being a foreigner when I studied in Taipei, I was still a foreigner at the end of the day."
"No, what sets us apart from them is that you can become an American as you are. Not a foreigner or a person to be assimilated, but an American, so long as you want to become one."
Military Intelligence Bureau Headquarters, Nanjing, National Capital Region, Republic of China, 15 March 1932
"Bring Your Child to Work Day" was a tradition in many offices. You got to bring your child to work and tell them about what you did. It was a good way to boost employee morale and get the company's foot in the door for the next generation of employees.
There were two problems with this plan, of course. The first being that the "Work" in this context meant "Foreign intelligence agency of the Republic of China." That meant all sorts of precautions had to be taken to ensure that data didn't leak to children. That wasn't too hard when certain areas were off-limits to the tours and all sorts of daycare programs were in place to keep the kids occupied.
No, the main problem was that the Director of the MIB and the Director of Division 5 didn't have kids of their own, so they settled for "Bring Your Child And/Or De-Facto Niece and Nephew to Work Day," one of the most stressful days of the year that wasn't, "Ask Michael and Aki If You Can Borrow Their Kids Day."
That was all a thing in the past, and everyone seemed happy enough about the arrangement. The kids got to spend time with their aunt and uncle, while the parents had a few days off away from the overly-energetic duo.
Questions about how the children of a war hero were related to the MIB's leadership notwithstanding, of course, but "Director Chen is basically my father's brother and Director Fong is my aunt in all but name" were more good enough explanations.
The fact that Director Chen and Director Fong also made the rules definitely helped, but Marty wasn't about to bring that part up while answering questions.
"How exactly did you become DIrector," one little girl asked him. "Did you get recruited for the job?"
"Not exactly... I rose through the ranks, then was appointed to head Section 5 during the Sun Administration. Once the Director was promoted to the Executive Yuan, I was confirmed by the Legislative Yuan and have continued to be confirmed with each subsequent administration."
In a way, I'm kinda like the J. Edgar Hoover of Chinese intelligence, only that I work in Foreign Intelligence instead of Domestic Intel, I don't violate people's civil rights, I'm not gay, and I never told civil rights activists to kill themselves.
...Wow, that's a really low bar. Holy shit, Hoover.
"So you're just really good at your job, so they keep re-hiring you?"
"I can neither confirm or deny that," Li chuckled, only to see the look on the kid's face. "Just messing with you. Basically yes."
That, and a metric fuckton of blackmail that will be leaked if I don't check in every 48 hours via a dead man's switch.
"So, if that's all for now, let's go to the cafeteria and get lunch. I think they have burgers and sushi today, so make sure you have your tickets with you."
Lunch was simple enough, and the kids seemed to enjoy the (much-improved) cafeteria food. His nephew, for his part, was busy talking with the other children while his niece was over with Rachel talking about... something. Honestly, Marty didn't know, and he knew well enough to respect other's privacy... As long as they were on the same side, anyways.
For her part, Rachel was mostly looking over documents on her phone when she felt a familiar set of arms hug around her waist.
"Hello there," Rachel said to her niece without turning around. "I thought you were eating, Morgan."
"Done. So, what are you looking at? Secrets?"
"OSINT."
"...Huh?"
"Open Source Intelligence," Rachel explained to the birthday girl. "OSINT involves looking at publicly-available information and learning secrets from them. For example, this news article says that Fong Keqing has just been married in Zhengzhou, over in Henan."
"Oh?" Morgan's eyes lit up. "Good for him!"
"Yes, very much so. But this also tells me something very important about him. Do you know what that is?"
"That he's alive?" Rachel nodded. "Really? Isn't that obvious?"
"Yes, but it's more-complicated than that," said the Director of Dection 5. "Do you remember how your father, your uncle, aunt, and I all went back in time with Chinese Tai- I mean, Taiwan?"
"Yes?"
"In that timeline, Fong Keqing died in the Chinese Famine of 1928 to 1930. Him, along with his wife and their two children. He would be survived by his younger brothers who would travel to Guangdong, where the family would stay until the Chinese Civil War when they fled to Hong Kong. Three generations down the line, I was born."
"So your great-great... uncle?" Rachel nodded to Morgan. "And his family are alive today because you, Gugu, Shushu, and Baba were sent to the past?"
"I wouldn't say that the four of us are directly responsible for their survival, but yes, Morgan. The circumstances around our arrival led to my great-grandfather's brother not dying in a famine. Along with so much more of my family as well, because things were different. Do you know about the Warlord Era, Morgan?"
"Um... which one? It seems like China's history is a cycle of warlords and unification, Shenshen."
"The last one, Morgan. During that time, many men died in the fighting, while many women and children died in the crossfire. Much of my mother's side of the family died in 1927, before the rest fled to Hong Kong well during the Northern Expedition. Hsu An died in childbirth in late 1929, during the Central Plains War"
Morgan looked at her quietly, as if she was torn halfway between listening and hugging her aunt once more.
"But according to an article I read two months ago, my Great Aunt's sister Hsu An had just welcomed her second daughter into the world, giving her a total of three children. All healthy."
"She's alive?" Morgan's eyes lit up as Rachel nodded. "That's amazing! Have you met them yet?"
"Morgan..."
"Shenshen," the girl said to her aunt, "They're you're family. I know they'd be as happy to know you are alive as you are about them. You should meet them!"
"I've never met these people in my life, Morgan. I can't just go and walk up to their front door and say, "Hi there, I'm your descendant from the future!"
"That's what Baba did. Now I have lots of cousins all over China!"
"I'm not your father, Morgan," Rachel insisted. "And even if I wanted to, where would I begin?"
"Well, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you want to meet them? Your family."
"I do, but... I don't know they would accept me."
"What's wrong with that? You're smart, talented, accomplished, and you have an awesome wife- oh. Yeah, that could be a problem. Do you know if they'd be mad about that, though?"
"Truth be told, Morgan, I don't, but it's the 1930's. Gay people aren't exactly the most accepted people in the world right now."
"Shenshen, the worst that could happen is that they say no, and you're back to spending more time with me and Lin. So could you contact them... Please?"
From the way her niece spoke, Rachel could practically hear the sincerity coming off her voice. And for all of her history as a cold-blooded sniper who'd never hesitated to pull a trigger, it turned out that one of her three weaknesses was the niece she absolutely adored more than anyone that wasn't named "Shannon Wu."
"Oh alright, Morgan. I'll see what I can do."
"Overpopulation and Logistics," by Park Seok-jin, Popular Science
The world is experiencing a baby boom right now. There is no debate about that.
Between the expansion of healthcare services, distribution of medicine, and massively-increased crop yields of the Green Revolution, a perfect storm has brewed across the world to see the population rapidly skyrocket.
The question, of course, is what to do with a rapidly-growing population as the first of the Boomers come of age in the post-Great Journey Era. This generation, born in a time of large families and the medication to prevent so many deaths, will be entering the workforce, buying food, and purchasing shelter as they come of age.
This has led to some concerns that population would see an endlessly-exponential growth that would lead to overpopulation.
While this is of some concern, recent figures from the Chinese Ministries of Agriculture, Interior, and Economic Affairs have indicated that the current food production will be more-than-adequate to feed upwards of three billion, once automation and economies of scale and logistical networks adjust to these preessures.
This, compounded with increased funding in resources towards housing and public transportation, are projected to meet and exceed the minimum requirements to accomodate a population of three billion by the middle of 1950.
Of course, there will have to be agricultural programs to handle the increased demand, including a continued investment in high-yield crops, responsible land use, continued automation, and an expansion of China's National Nutritional Stockpile Program to the rest of the Nanjing Accord the global communiy. Coincidentally, these exact terms were discussed at the Hanoi Conference last year, and the Accord has set an ambitious plan to ensure that all citizens within Eurasia (and pending ascension, Africa) are able to meet at least the minimum nutritional goals.
It is this stockpile program that can be credited with preventing many of the famines of the Lost History, and it is likely that the stockpiles will play a key role in compensating for any famines and shortages in the future, both at home and abroad.
Regarding housing, it is clear that the high-density and medium-density urban planning programs have borne much fruit, with the two providing for an efficient use of living space that minimizes the carbon output that comes with personal automobile use. This, coupled with the continued expansion of the Nanjing Accord's rail network and the implementation of MSRs (Molten-Salt Reactors) in the next five years, as well as carbon capture technology, sets the world on track to meet its "Net Zero" carbon emission goals by the mid-1940s at the latest.
This, of course, does not factor in the continued adoption of contraception throughout much of Asia, Europe, and the Americas. Contraception, coupled with the introduction of "Family Life" programs and the proliferation of mifeprostone, is likely to prevent thousands, if not millions, of unwanted births throughout the world, leading to a much-lower exponential rate of population growth.
While there is reason to be concerned about overpopulation when it comes to housing, resources, and carbon emissions, the continued implementation of efficient policy is likely to minimize shortages of the first and second, while the latter is likely to be outright mitigated in less than two decades.
Tetouan, Free Morocco, 6 May 1932
"To tell you the truth," Lawrence said to Blair, "Warfare is often less-interesting than the history books would have you think. Yes, there are epic battles like Agincourt or Jerusalem, but the historians do not write about the marches, setting camp, or the day-to-day of sieges."
"It's not as if there is much to do, when one side has large amounts of drones at their disposal, while the other does not. Raids notwithstanding, of course."
"Of course," Lawrence agreed. After all, they had done their fair share of daring raids against enemy fortifications, and they had the scars to show for it. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Nor would I," Blair agreed, before sipping his coffee. "Unfair as it may be, war is hardly gentlemanly, and it should not be treated as such. Though I know that I am preaching to the converted when I say that."
"That you are. So, what will you write in your article, Eric? That we came, we saw, and they were conquered by drones?"
"Hardly," the Orwellian author chuckled. "We came here because we believed in a cause enough to fight for it. And we did. I could wax lyrical about the futility of warfare and its inhumanity, but we fought for what we believed in and saw it through to the end. I believe that is a noble enough story on its own."
"And then what?"
"Well, that's it. I will type the story up and send it via the internet to London, where it will be published. Then that will be that."
"I meant when we go home. To England. What will you do then?"
"Writing perhaps? Perhaps this time I can ensure people do misuse my writings. You?"
"Academia, I imagine. I'm actually on sabbatical from Oxford."
"Most sabbaticals are not indefinite... and even fewer are for combat against monarchists."
"Then it is a good thing I have tenure."
Saint Petersburg, Saint Petersburg Governorate, Russian Empire, 11 June 1932
"Well then," Alexei Ivanovich Kovalenko said at the poster. "That's very... on the nose, as the Americans would say."
There was no other way to describe it, when the photograph was of a ruined building from the future with the words, "DO YOU WANT THIS FUTURE FOR RUSSIA? NO? THEN REPORT CORRUPTION!"
After the fall of Diterikhs and Denikin, calls for a Putin-like, "Apolitical Strongman" were... quieter, to say the least. For the average Russian, strongmen like the Tsars and Vozhds would run Russia into the ground in the name of "Restoring Greatness." The pictures of Modernist ruins from the Lost History only hammered the point home for them.
And that was before he got to all the other media.
Who could forget Sergei Eisenstein's Lost History classic, Bread and Spectacles starring Yurii Hlushko? It was a harrowing film that spared no punches in depicting the excesses and corruption of the Lost History's New Russia through a narrative of court intrigue that took direct inspiration from Ianucci's The Death of Stalin.
Which, now that he thought about it, was probably one of his favorite films.
While it was crude, violent, and darker than anything he'd seen before, it was quite possibly one of the funniest films he had ever seen. And, ironically enough, a well-deserved pallate cleanser after he had seen Chernobyl.
They were both good movies, but Chernobyl had filled him with disgust, while The Death of Stalin practically wrung every laugh out of him. Then again, that was to be expected: The former was a drama about the insanity that was the Soviet Union, while the latter was a comedy about a similar subject matter.
Both still served the same point, now that he thought about it. Whether they intended to or not, Mazin and Ianucci were able to show that an authoritarian state like the Soviet Union was one, not in Russia's best interests, and two, a complete and utter clusterfuck.
That, he figured, was what made them good at getting a message across: They were inherently political films, but they could stood on their own as media.
The same could be said of this propaganda poster he saw.
While yes, it was rather blunt and on the nose when it came to its message, the images of a ruined future with half-flooded dirt roads were fine examples of photography that demonstrated the human results of a culture of corruption.
Good political media was good media on its own, and this poster would be both.
Cape Town, Republic of South Africa, 23 July 1932
"So," Thembo asked his younger brother over sushi. "How do you like your first week as a bureaucrat?"
"Well, it's more-boring than my time studying in China," Gadla admitted. "But they do have me doing construction oversight on the new molten salt reactor outside of Melkbosstrand. But most of my time is spent in the office overseeing permits for solar and wind projects. You know how it is."
"That I do." After all, it had been Thembo's job before his brother had shown up. Well, one of his jobs, anyways. "Another weight off of my shoulders, it seems."
"You'll be there for the ribbon-cutting, right?"
"'Course I will. I didn't spend half a decade filling out paperwork to not get to show up at the ceremony. That's half the perks of the job right there!"
The other half was, of course, a combined sense of civic duty, pride and accomplishment, stable pay, public respect, and the constant sense that he was sticking it to all of those racists who said he'd be nothing more than a farmworker for the rest of his life.
Now, Thembo wasn't a spiteful man, but he knew full-well that his and his brother's careers were one giant "Fuck You" to every person who said that Colonialism was necessary because Black Africans like him "Lack[ed] the capacity to run a state." The two of them were educated, motivated, and quite proficient at their jobs despite their young ages, and they had countless public works to show for themselves.
Then again, it wasn't as if they had much of a choice. The Chinese and all the other Asians couldn't stay around forever and so many of the White professional class had taken the boat ride out to Australia, Britain, or America. "Africanization" was the only option they had on the table, and both the Accord and the various local governments knew that.
That was why they were here. That, and a burning desire to build a better world for themselves and their families.
It wasn't a hard sell at first. Thembo and Gadla were literate, motivated, and it wasn't as if the Chinese had many other options in the long term. The promise of an education, a stable career, and a pension for their father had been more than enough for the family to jump at the offer by the Accord Occupation Authority.
After that came years of hard studying, where the truly ambitious and idealistic distinguished themselves. These were people like himself and his brother, people who showed that they were either ambitious-enough, motivated-enough, or some-comibination-of-the-two-enough to go above and beyond expectations.
"True Believers," was how his advisor Bob Peng described him. It was a fancy way to say that the kind fo people the Accord wanted in charge of the African democracies to be people who believed in the cause more than anything else. In hindsight, it made a sense to him; to have a properly-running state, you'd ideally need to have a functioning bureaucracy with a culture of efficiency and civic duty.
Who better to instill such an institutional culture than the True Believers, those who were dedicated to their work and found corruption to be borderline-sacreligious towards their ideals? In theory, men (and to Thembo's surprise, also women) like him and Gadla would ensure that the state not only ran efficiently, but that the next generation of professionals running its institutions would share their sense of idealism, civic duty, and most importantly their aversion to corruption.
And as far as he could tell... it worked.
Sure, training them took the better part of a decade, required people like him and his brother to undergo a borderline sink-or-swim crash course of education, and some otherwise-effective recruits were passed over for promotion. But for all the program's flaws, He, Gadla, and all their classmates were quite good at their jobs, and they knew it.
Be it civic duty, idealism, or just wanting to stick it to the racists, the True Believers showed that they were more than just talk.
"Okay class," said Peter O'Brien, "What makes America unique?"
It was a simple enough question, but the students were still silent.
"Religion?" One student asked, after raising his hand. "America was founded on Christian values, wasn't it?"
"Which Christian values?" O'Brien countered. "Pennsylvania was founded by Quakers, Maryland by Catholics, Massachusetts by Puritans, and our own state on religious freedom by a Baptist. Not to mention that the Founding Fathers themselves had vastly different ideas about religion."
And that was before he got into the minutiae of how in all likelihood, at least one of those sects probably believed that the others were fake Christians who would burn in Hell for all of eternity. The future may be more-tolerant of Catholics, but the older generation still had their prejudices.
"Culture?" Another student offered, "Our country has its roots in British culture. The Quakers, Catholics, Puritans, and Rhode Islanders all trace our cultural legacy back to the colonists."
"Perhaps. But the same cannot be said of the African-Americans descended from slaves, let alone the Quebecois, First Nations, and all of the Mexicans from California to Texas. Sure, they act an awful lot like you or me, but I wouldn't call them English in their culture."
His student nodded, and that young man also relented.
"This is a discussion, class," O'Brien chuckled. The students just gave him an odd look. "We're here to discuss, so raise your hands."
"Ideology," a third student offered, "The United States was founded as a Democratic Republic, unlike almost most countries who were founded as monarchies."
"Perhaps," O'Brien figured. Truth be told, he was stalling for time to come up with an answer. "The United States was founded as a Democratic Republic... but the same could be said of France or the Republic of China or Korea."
"Wouldn't those count as successor states to monarchies that were overthrown in revolutions?"
"Well..."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
"It's semantics, James," O'Brien reassured the kid, "But for all intents and purposes, the United States is the successor to the colonial governments under the British Crown. Those governments which were..."
"...Overthrown in a Revolution," James finished for him. "But our democratic ideals are unique, aren't they?"
"Yes and No," the teacher said in his usual professorial tone. "While it's true that the United States is founded on (small-'D') democratic and (small-'R') ideals, those ideals are not exactly unique these days when you have governments like China, France, Mexico, Central America, Gran Colombia, Brazil, and plenty of other countries."
"The United States inspired them though, didn't they?" James asked, much to O'Brien's delight. Not only was the boy actually starting a dialogue, but he was getting closer to O'Brien's goal. "In doing so, wouldn't you say that they are, in a way, becoming like us?"
"Yes." That caught James off guard. "And that ties into what truly makes America unique. That anyone, anywhere, can be an American."
"I don't follow..."
"Those countries were inspired by our ideals, were they not?" James nodded. "Now, would you say that they are American?"
"I would say they are like Americans, but they are not American. Just as they wouldn't call us French or Chinese if we lived there."
"But if they lived here... they would be American, wouldn't they? Assuming they believe in Democracy, Republicanism, and all of those ideals we cherish, right?"
"I suppose so," James figured. "Wait... is that what makes us unique?"
"At the end of the day... yes. You can go to China to live, but you cannot become Chinese. You can go to France to live and not become an American. But anyone from any corner of the world can come to American and become an American. Sure, you might be Italian-American, Anglo-American, African-American, or Irish American, but you're still an American at the end of the day, and that isn't something that can be said for France or China."
"Really?" Another student interrupted, "Do the Chinese and the French not accept immigrants from all around the world?"
"They do," O'Brien admitted, "But if you go to France to live and don't act like a French person, they'll strongly-encourage you to speak the lingua franca. And while the Chinese might not have cared about me being a foreigner when I studied in Taipei, I was still a foreigner at the end of the day."
"No, what sets us apart from them is that you can become an American as you are. Not a foreigner or a person to be assimilated, but an American, so long as you want to become one."
Military Intelligence Bureau Headquarters, Nanjing, National Capital Region, Republic of China, 15 March 1932
"Bring Your Child to Work Day" was a tradition in many offices. You got to bring your child to work and tell them about what you did. It was a good way to boost employee morale and get the company's foot in the door for the next generation of employees.
There were two problems with this plan, of course. The first being that the "Work" in this context meant "Foreign intelligence agency of the Republic of China." That meant all sorts of precautions had to be taken to ensure that data didn't leak to children. That wasn't too hard when certain areas were off-limits to the tours and all sorts of daycare programs were in place to keep the kids occupied.
No, the main problem was that the Director of the MIB and the Director of Division 5 didn't have kids of their own, so they settled for "Bring Your Child And/Or De-Facto Niece and Nephew to Work Day," one of the most stressful days of the year that wasn't, "Ask Michael and Aki If You Can Borrow Their Kids Day."
That was all a thing in the past, and everyone seemed happy enough about the arrangement. The kids got to spend time with their aunt and uncle, while the parents had a few days off away from the overly-energetic duo.
Questions about how the children of a war hero were related to the MIB's leadership notwithstanding, of course, but "Director Chen is basically my father's brother and Director Fong is my aunt in all but name" were more good enough explanations.
The fact that Director Chen and Director Fong also made the rules definitely helped, but Marty wasn't about to bring that part up while answering questions.
"How exactly did you become DIrector," one little girl asked him. "Did you get recruited for the job?"
"Not exactly... I rose through the ranks, then was appointed to head Section 5 during the Sun Administration. Once the Director was promoted to the Executive Yuan, I was confirmed by the Legislative Yuan and have continued to be confirmed with each subsequent administration."
In a way, I'm kinda like the J. Edgar Hoover of Chinese intelligence, only that I work in Foreign Intelligence instead of Domestic Intel, I don't violate people's civil rights, I'm not gay, and I never told civil rights activists to kill themselves.
...Wow, that's a really low bar. Holy shit, Hoover.
"So you're just really good at your job, so they keep re-hiring you?"
"I can neither confirm or deny that," Li chuckled, only to see the look on the kid's face. "Just messing with you. Basically yes."
That, and a metric fuckton of blackmail that will be leaked if I don't check in every 48 hours via a dead man's switch.
"So, if that's all for now, let's go to the cafeteria and get lunch. I think they have burgers and sushi today, so make sure you have your tickets with you."
Lunch was simple enough, and the kids seemed to enjoy the (much-improved) cafeteria food. His nephew, for his part, was busy talking with the other children while his niece was over with Rachel talking about... something. Honestly, Marty didn't know, and he knew well enough to respect other's privacy... As long as they were on the same side, anyways.
For her part, Rachel was mostly looking over documents on her phone when she felt a familiar set of arms hug around her waist.
"Hello there," Rachel said to her niece without turning around. "I thought you were eating, Morgan."
"Done. So, what are you looking at? Secrets?"
"OSINT."
"...Huh?"
"Open Source Intelligence," Rachel explained to the birthday girl. "OSINT involves looking at publicly-available information and learning secrets from them. For example, this news article says that Fong Keqing has just been married in Zhengzhou, over in Henan."
"Oh?" Morgan's eyes lit up. "Good for him!"
"Yes, very much so. But this also tells me something very important about him. Do you know what that is?"
"That he's alive?" Rachel nodded. "Really? Isn't that obvious?"
"Yes, but it's more-complicated than that," said the Director of Dection 5. "Do you remember how your father, your uncle, aunt, and I all went back in time with Chinese Tai- I mean, Taiwan?"
"Yes?"
"In that timeline, Fong Keqing died in the Chinese Famine of 1928 to 1930. Him, along with his wife and their two children. He would be survived by his younger brothers who would travel to Guangdong, where the family would stay until the Chinese Civil War when they fled to Hong Kong. Three generations down the line, I was born."
"So your great-great... uncle?" Rachel nodded to Morgan. "And his family are alive today because you, Gugu, Shushu, and Baba were sent to the past?"
"I wouldn't say that the four of us are directly responsible for their survival, but yes, Morgan. The circumstances around our arrival led to my great-grandfather's brother not dying in a famine. Along with so much more of my family as well, because things were different. Do you know about the Warlord Era, Morgan?"
"Um... which one? It seems like China's history is a cycle of warlords and unification, Shenshen."
"The last one, Morgan. During that time, many men died in the fighting, while many women and children died in the crossfire. Much of my mother's side of the family died in 1927, before the rest fled to Hong Kong well during the Northern Expedition. Hsu An died in childbirth in late 1929, during the Central Plains War"
Morgan looked at her quietly, as if she was torn halfway between listening and hugging her aunt once more.
"But according to an article I read two months ago, my Great Aunt's sister Hsu An had just welcomed her second daughter into the world, giving her a total of three children. All healthy."
"She's alive?" Morgan's eyes lit up as Rachel nodded. "That's amazing! Have you met them yet?"
"Morgan..."
"Shenshen," the girl said to her aunt, "They're you're family. I know they'd be as happy to know you are alive as you are about them. You should meet them!"
"I've never met these people in my life, Morgan. I can't just go and walk up to their front door and say, "Hi there, I'm your descendant from the future!"
"That's what Baba did. Now I have lots of cousins all over China!"
"I'm not your father, Morgan," Rachel insisted. "And even if I wanted to, where would I begin?"
"Well, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you want to meet them? Your family."
"I do, but... I don't know they would accept me."
"What's wrong with that? You're smart, talented, accomplished, and you have an awesome wife- oh. Yeah, that could be a problem. Do you know if they'd be mad about that, though?"
"Truth be told, Morgan, I don't, but it's the 1930's. Gay people aren't exactly the most accepted people in the world right now."
"Shenshen, the worst that could happen is that they say no, and you're back to spending more time with me and Lin. So could you contact them... Please?"
From the way her niece spoke, Rachel could practically hear the sincerity coming off her voice. And for all of her history as a cold-blooded sniper who'd never hesitated to pull a trigger, it turned out that one of her three weaknesses was the niece she absolutely adored more than anyone that wasn't named "Shannon Wu."
"Oh alright, Morgan. I'll see what I can do."
"Overpopulation and Logistics," by Park Seok-jin, Popular Science
The world is experiencing a baby boom right now. There is no debate about that.
Between the expansion of healthcare services, distribution of medicine, and massively-increased crop yields of the Green Revolution, a perfect storm has brewed across the world to see the population rapidly skyrocket.
The question, of course, is what to do with a rapidly-growing population as the first of the Boomers come of age in the post-Great Journey Era. This generation, born in a time of large families and the medication to prevent so many deaths, will be entering the workforce, buying food, and purchasing shelter as they come of age.
This has led to some concerns that population would see an endlessly-exponential growth that would lead to overpopulation.
While this is of some concern, recent figures from the Chinese Ministries of Agriculture, Interior, and Economic Affairs have indicated that the current food production will be more-than-adequate to feed upwards of three billion, once automation and economies of scale and logistical networks adjust to these preessures.
This, compounded with increased funding in resources towards housing and public transportation, are projected to meet and exceed the minimum requirements to accomodate a population of three billion by the middle of 1950.
Of course, there will have to be agricultural programs to handle the increased demand, including a continued investment in high-yield crops, responsible land use, continued automation, and an expansion of China's National Nutritional Stockpile Program to the rest of the Nanjing Accord the global communiy. Coincidentally, these exact terms were discussed at the Hanoi Conference last year, and the Accord has set an ambitious plan to ensure that all citizens within Eurasia (and pending ascension, Africa) are able to meet at least the minimum nutritional goals.
It is this stockpile program that can be credited with preventing many of the famines of the Lost History, and it is likely that the stockpiles will play a key role in compensating for any famines and shortages in the future, both at home and abroad.
Regarding housing, it is clear that the high-density and medium-density urban planning programs have borne much fruit, with the two providing for an efficient use of living space that minimizes the carbon output that comes with personal automobile use. This, coupled with the continued expansion of the Nanjing Accord's rail network and the implementation of MSRs (Molten-Salt Reactors) in the next five years, as well as carbon capture technology, sets the world on track to meet its "Net Zero" carbon emission goals by the mid-1940s at the latest.
This, of course, does not factor in the continued adoption of contraception throughout much of Asia, Europe, and the Americas. Contraception, coupled with the introduction of "Family Life" programs and the proliferation of mifeprostone, is likely to prevent thousands, if not millions, of unwanted births throughout the world, leading to a much-lower exponential rate of population growth.
While there is reason to be concerned about overpopulation when it comes to housing, resources, and carbon emissions, the continued implementation of efficient policy is likely to minimize shortages of the first and second, while the latter is likely to be outright mitigated in less than two decades.
Tetouan, Free Morocco, 6 May 1932
"To tell you the truth," Lawrence said to Blair, "Warfare is often less-interesting than the history books would have you think. Yes, there are epic battles like Agincourt or Jerusalem, but the historians do not write about the marches, setting camp, or the day-to-day of sieges."
"It's not as if there is much to do, when one side has large amounts of drones at their disposal, while the other does not. Raids notwithstanding, of course."
"Of course," Lawrence agreed. After all, they had done their fair share of daring raids against enemy fortifications, and they had the scars to show for it. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Nor would I," Blair agreed, before sipping his coffee. "Unfair as it may be, war is hardly gentlemanly, and it should not be treated as such. Though I know that I am preaching to the converted when I say that."
"That you are. So, what will you write in your article, Eric? That we came, we saw, and they were conquered by drones?"
"Hardly," the Orwellian author chuckled. "We came here because we believed in a cause enough to fight for it. And we did. I could wax lyrical about the futility of warfare and its inhumanity, but we fought for what we believed in and saw it through to the end. I believe that is a noble enough story on its own."
"And then what?"
"Well, that's it. I will type the story up and send it via the internet to London, where it will be published. Then that will be that."
"I meant when we go home. To England. What will you do then?"
"Writing perhaps? Perhaps this time I can ensure people do misuse my writings. You?"
"Academia, I imagine. I'm actually on sabbatical from Oxford."
"Most sabbaticals are not indefinite... and even fewer are for combat against monarchists."
"Then it is a good thing I have tenure."
Saint Petersburg, Saint Petersburg Governorate, Russian Empire, 11 June 1932
"Well then," Alexei Ivanovich Kovalenko said at the poster. "That's very... on the nose, as the Americans would say."
There was no other way to describe it, when the photograph was of a ruined building from the future with the words, "DO YOU WANT THIS FUTURE FOR RUSSIA? NO? THEN REPORT CORRUPTION!"
After the fall of Diterikhs and Denikin, calls for a Putin-like, "Apolitical Strongman" were... quieter, to say the least. For the average Russian, strongmen like the Tsars and Vozhds would run Russia into the ground in the name of "Restoring Greatness." The pictures of Modernist ruins from the Lost History only hammered the point home for them.
And that was before he got to all the other media.
Who could forget Sergei Eisenstein's Lost History classic, Bread and Spectacles starring Yurii Hlushko? It was a harrowing film that spared no punches in depicting the excesses and corruption of the Lost History's New Russia through a narrative of court intrigue that took direct inspiration from Ianucci's The Death of Stalin.
Which, now that he thought about it, was probably one of his favorite films.
While it was crude, violent, and darker than anything he'd seen before, it was quite possibly one of the funniest films he had ever seen. And, ironically enough, a well-deserved pallate cleanser after he had seen Chernobyl.
They were both good movies, but Chernobyl had filled him with disgust, while The Death of Stalin practically wrung every laugh out of him. Then again, that was to be expected: The former was a drama about the insanity that was the Soviet Union, while the latter was a comedy about a similar subject matter.
Both still served the same point, now that he thought about it. Whether they intended to or not, Mazin and Ianucci were able to show that an authoritarian state like the Soviet Union was one, not in Russia's best interests, and two, a complete and utter clusterfuck.
That, he figured, was what made them good at getting a message across: They were inherently political films, but they could stood on their own as media.
The same could be said of this propaganda poster he saw.
While yes, it was rather blunt and on the nose when it came to its message, the images of a ruined future with half-flooded dirt roads were fine examples of photography that demonstrated the human results of a culture of corruption.
Good political media was good media on its own, and this poster would be both.
Cape Town, Republic of South Africa, 23 July 1932
"So," Thembo asked his younger brother over sushi. "How do you like your first week as a bureaucrat?"
"Well, it's more-boring than my time studying in China," Gadla admitted. "But they do have me doing construction oversight on the new molten salt reactor outside of Melkbosstrand. But most of my time is spent in the office overseeing permits for solar and wind projects. You know how it is."
"That I do." After all, it had been Thembo's job before his brother had shown up. Well, one of his jobs, anyways. "Another weight off of my shoulders, it seems."
"You'll be there for the ribbon-cutting, right?"
"'Course I will. I didn't spend half a decade filling out paperwork to not get to show up at the ceremony. That's half the perks of the job right there!"
The other half was, of course, a combined sense of civic duty, pride and accomplishment, stable pay, public respect, and the constant sense that he was sticking it to all of those racists who said he'd be nothing more than a farmworker for the rest of his life.
Now, Thembo wasn't a spiteful man, but he knew full-well that his and his brother's careers were one giant "Fuck You" to every person who said that Colonialism was necessary because Black Africans like him "Lack[ed] the capacity to run a state." The two of them were educated, motivated, and quite proficient at their jobs despite their young ages, and they had countless public works to show for themselves.
Then again, it wasn't as if they had much of a choice. The Chinese and all the other Asians couldn't stay around forever and so many of the White professional class had taken the boat ride out to Australia, Britain, or America. "Africanization" was the only option they had on the table, and both the Accord and the various local governments knew that.
That was why they were here. That, and a burning desire to build a better world for themselves and their families.
It wasn't a hard sell at first. Thembo and Gadla were literate, motivated, and it wasn't as if the Chinese had many other options in the long term. The promise of an education, a stable career, and a pension for their father had been more than enough for the family to jump at the offer by the Accord Occupation Authority.
After that came years of hard studying, where the truly ambitious and idealistic distinguished themselves. These were people like himself and his brother, people who showed that they were either ambitious-enough, motivated-enough, or some-comibination-of-the-two-enough to go above and beyond expectations.
"True Believers," was how his advisor Bob Peng described him. It was a fancy way to say that the kind fo people the Accord wanted in charge of the African democracies to be people who believed in the cause more than anything else. In hindsight, it made a sense to him; to have a properly-running state, you'd ideally need to have a functioning bureaucracy with a culture of efficiency and civic duty.
Who better to instill such an institutional culture than the True Believers, those who were dedicated to their work and found corruption to be borderline-sacreligious towards their ideals? In theory, men (and to Thembo's surprise, also women) like him and Gadla would ensure that the state not only ran efficiently, but that the next generation of professionals running its institutions would share their sense of idealism, civic duty, and most importantly their aversion to corruption.
And as far as he could tell... it worked.
Sure, training them took the better part of a decade, required people like him and his brother to undergo a borderline sink-or-swim crash course of education, and some otherwise-effective recruits were passed over for promotion. But for all the program's flaws, He, Gadla, and all their classmates were quite good at their jobs, and they knew it.
Be it civic duty, idealism, or just wanting to stick it to the racists, the True Believers showed that they were more than just talk.
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What is the situation of Indians in Africa particularly in Uganda?
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
The text on the poster more accurately translates to "DO YOU WANT TO LIVE HERE? NO? THEN REPORT CORRUPTION?" with a bit of inconsistent grammar - "ХОЧЕШЬ" is in singular (ХОТИТЕ would be plural) and "СООБЩАЙТЕ" is in plural ("СООБЩАЙ" would be singular). I'll say singular would work better, especially if downtimer Russian designers run across Mandership.
(emphasis in bold mine)
With this in mind, "DO YOU WANT THIS FUTURE FOR RUSSIA?" would probably translate to "ТАКОГО БУДУЩЕГО ТЫ ХОЧЕШЬ ДЛЯ РОССИИ?", especially if Lost History early Soviet propaganda is available as a model (say what you will, but it was pretty effective.)
(Minor, but there's no need for saying "on the nose" "as the Americans would say" - the idiom "в лоб", literally "into the forehead", means pretty much the same thing in Russian, and can replace each other when translating as a translation convention.)
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
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Huh. Good to know. Thanks.
I can't speak Russian, so I rely on translators.
In-story, I'm just going to figure that somebody did a typo at the print shop. Mostly because stuff like that happens, and this would be funnier.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It largely depends on the person.
Somebody who is fairly educated or qualified for bureaucratic roles or has roots (business, family, etc) will likely stick around. The former is a prime candidate for bureaucracy as well.
Somebody who doesn't have roots might consider moving back to India due to independence as well as job opportunities.
In contrast, you might see some businessmen expand to Africa, which could lead to some moving there.
Same if there are jobs that need manpower, which is happening in the Middle East. Very similar to OTL, but with more-stringent protections as per the Hanoi Treaty subsection on migrant workers' rights.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Next chapter is coming up to wrap up 1932.
And a familiar face...
And a familiar face...
RE: Historical Divergences
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
From: chenakira@ntpu.edu
To: [EMAIL ADDRESS REDACTED]
Subject: Historical Divergences
Rachel,
While I am no-longer employed at the Military Intelligence Bureau as a civilian analyst, my current field of study has led me to an important realization about Division 5's use of Historical Intelligence (HISTINT).
In short, the continued divergence of our timeline from that of the Lost History is likely to diminish the effectiveness of HISTINT as a predictive tool.
While HISTINT can serve as a means of providing context and a general profile of a subject, its predictive capabilities decrease at an inversely-proportional rate the further we move from the Point of Divergence of the Great Journey. This can be attributed to the compounding circumstances and events that change the subject from their Lost History counterparts
Or to put in layperson's terms, people in our timeline are not the same people as their Lost History selves, and they become even less like their Lost History selves the further we get from 1911.
One need only look at figures such as the recently-promoted Special Forces Major General Lei Feng, born as Mao Zedong. While they are, biologically, the same people, Major General Lei's twenty years of service in the National Revolutionary Army (and in all likelihood, revelations of his Lost History self) have turned him into a fundamentally different person in terms of ideology and political activity (or lack thereof in Major General Lei's case).
While HISTINT can provide some context of a subject, particularly their values and decision-making, it is important to acknowledge that it cannot be used as a predictive tool as it had during the last two decades.
History has changed, and HISTINT, while useful, must change with it.
Best,
Dr. Chen Akira
Professor of History
National Taipei University
PS: Your niece and nephew wanted to know if you had any luck getting in contact with your family. All of us are rooting for you.
And if it doesn't work out with them, know that you will always have a family in myself, Michael, Morgan, and Lin.
To: [EMAIL ADDRESS REDACTED]
Subject: Historical Divergences
Rachel,
While I am no-longer employed at the Military Intelligence Bureau as a civilian analyst, my current field of study has led me to an important realization about Division 5's use of Historical Intelligence (HISTINT).
In short, the continued divergence of our timeline from that of the Lost History is likely to diminish the effectiveness of HISTINT as a predictive tool.
While HISTINT can serve as a means of providing context and a general profile of a subject, its predictive capabilities decrease at an inversely-proportional rate the further we move from the Point of Divergence of the Great Journey. This can be attributed to the compounding circumstances and events that change the subject from their Lost History counterparts
Or to put in layperson's terms, people in our timeline are not the same people as their Lost History selves, and they become even less like their Lost History selves the further we get from 1911.
One need only look at figures such as the recently-promoted Special Forces Major General Lei Feng, born as Mao Zedong. While they are, biologically, the same people, Major General Lei's twenty years of service in the National Revolutionary Army (and in all likelihood, revelations of his Lost History self) have turned him into a fundamentally different person in terms of ideology and political activity (or lack thereof in Major General Lei's case).
While HISTINT can provide some context of a subject, particularly their values and decision-making, it is important to acknowledge that it cannot be used as a predictive tool as it had during the last two decades.
History has changed, and HISTINT, while useful, must change with it.
Best,
Dr. Chen Akira
Professor of History
National Taipei University
PS: Your niece and nephew wanted to know if you had any luck getting in contact with your family. All of us are rooting for you.
And if it doesn't work out with them, know that you will always have a family in myself, Michael, Morgan, and Lin.
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After two decades of global tech transfers and an alternate world war, HISTINT is approximately useless. If they still have a department for it out of bureaucratic inertia, it's past time to start wrapping that department up and getting the people involved into more productive roles.
enbylvania
Self-Requested Ban
- Location
- some other dimension
- Pronouns
- They/She/He
I'd say by more than a decade after the POD, the only useful thing about intelligence of persons of historical significance is insight to any pre-existing deep-seated psychological traits things (like arachnophobia from childhood) and into any kind of diseases they may have a genetic predisposition for. Not worth having a dedicated department for.
I'd say historical intelligence could still be strategically useful at this point though, mainly for knowing where unexploited natural wealth is.
I'd say historical intelligence could still be strategically useful at this point though, mainly for knowing where unexploited natural wealth is.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
By the time the war waned down, Division 5 has seen its focus go from Historical Intelligence to a more general Research and Analysis role. Which has always been their official role, but HISTINT has had resources and manpower reallocated over the years to more general subjects.
Also in Chapter 73 (I think it was that, anyways), we've seen a bit of their inner workings. Basically, Section 5's new role is sort of as the intelligence agency's think tank... just without being staffed by annoying people with Twitter accounts.
As they got further from the POD, the main role of HISTINT was in designing character profiles. What makes people tick, as well as their decision-making process and biases might be, so that they can be exploited.
Now, almost 20 years since the POD, the most HISTINT will be doing is as you described. Looking through archives to see if there is any intel on a person of interest that can be exploited. For example, Churchill's prejudices and alcoholism.
As for resources, that's kind of been a thing for a while. I remember writing a few sections where the start of Chinese-Ottoman relations involved the Chinese telling the Ottomans where all the oil was located (as well as providing the equipment to extract it) in exchange for a better deal.
Same with Chile, now that I think about it, but with Lithium, or Russia with its large supply of fossil fuels that powers much of Europe.
Semantics, Semantics…
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"Think tank," her former subordinate said, before pouring coffee for the two of them. "For all intents and purposes, Rachel, Division 5 is basically China's first (and only) think tank."
"I-I don't think that is true," Rachel groaned, "There are too many differences."
"Besides the fact that we aren't staffed by… what's the term… terminally-online, out-of-touch, jackasses?"
"Huh." Now Rachel had heard everything. "I never took you as one for swearing."
"It's a phrase Michael used, back when he was explaining social media to me."
"Ah."
"Well, given the Division's emphasis on research and analysis, as well as publishing reports, it might as well be a think tank in all but name."
"You do realize that's not the compliment you think it is, right, Aki? Marty and I are as far away from ivory tower types as you can get, what with all of our fieldwork."
"Yes, yes, I'm very aware that you touch grass," Aki told her. Rachel could've sworn she'd seen a smirk on her former colleague-turned-academic's face. "More coffee?"
"Yes please," Rachel agreed, and Aki poured her another cup. "Hm… that tastes familiar. Brazilian?"
"Gas Station."
"…Come again?"
"It's an acquired taste from when Michael and I met on Ishigaki. When the only working coffee machine is in the gas station, you learn to make do. Plus, it actually tastes good."
"Fair enough." At this point, she'd just learned to accept her friends' weirdness as something else to add onto the pile that was her life. "But back to what I was saying: Division 5 is not a think tank. We simply do research on intelligence-related subjects for the rest of the MIB."
"So you're a think tank… that exclusively works for an intelligence agency."
"I wouldn't say that. We also deploy field agents, and I doubt AEI ever did anything like that. I think that differentiates us from a think tank."
"I think you have a negative opinion of think tanks and the people who work at them."
"Oh, almost certainly. I'm sure you would as well, if you had come across the people I had."
"You have my sympathies," Aki commiserated, "But if Division 5 isn't a think tank in all but name, then what is it?"
"It's a compartmentalized division of the Military Intelligence Bureau that specializes in research, analysis, and provides recommendations to the MIB's leadership."
"You really don't like your unit being called a think tank, do you?"
"If you knew the kind of people who worked at think tanks back in our time, you wouldn't either, Aki."
"I-I don't think that is true," Rachel groaned, "There are too many differences."
"Besides the fact that we aren't staffed by… what's the term… terminally-online, out-of-touch, jackasses?"
"Huh." Now Rachel had heard everything. "I never took you as one for swearing."
"It's a phrase Michael used, back when he was explaining social media to me."
"Ah."
"Well, given the Division's emphasis on research and analysis, as well as publishing reports, it might as well be a think tank in all but name."
"You do realize that's not the compliment you think it is, right, Aki? Marty and I are as far away from ivory tower types as you can get, what with all of our fieldwork."
"Yes, yes, I'm very aware that you touch grass," Aki told her. Rachel could've sworn she'd seen a smirk on her former colleague-turned-academic's face. "More coffee?"
"Yes please," Rachel agreed, and Aki poured her another cup. "Hm… that tastes familiar. Brazilian?"
"Gas Station."
"…Come again?"
"It's an acquired taste from when Michael and I met on Ishigaki. When the only working coffee machine is in the gas station, you learn to make do. Plus, it actually tastes good."
"Fair enough." At this point, she'd just learned to accept her friends' weirdness as something else to add onto the pile that was her life. "But back to what I was saying: Division 5 is not a think tank. We simply do research on intelligence-related subjects for the rest of the MIB."
"So you're a think tank… that exclusively works for an intelligence agency."
"I wouldn't say that. We also deploy field agents, and I doubt AEI ever did anything like that. I think that differentiates us from a think tank."
"I think you have a negative opinion of think tanks and the people who work at them."
"Oh, almost certainly. I'm sure you would as well, if you had come across the people I had."
"You have my sympathies," Aki commiserated, "But if Division 5 isn't a think tank in all but name, then what is it?"
"It's a compartmentalized division of the Military Intelligence Bureau that specializes in research, analysis, and provides recommendations to the MIB's leadership."
"You really don't like your unit being called a think tank, do you?"
"If you knew the kind of people who worked at think tanks back in our time, you wouldn't either, Aki."
enbylvania
Self-Requested Ban
- Location
- some other dimension
- Pronouns
- They/She/He
As as a useless intellectual myself, I for one applaud Aki's brave pro-think tank policy
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm like 90% sure Rachel Fong's dislike of think tanks comes from the most common and relatable of reasons:
Interacting with annoying people on the internet.
Chapter 75: Preemption
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Arg-e-Shahi, Kabul, Kingdom of Afghanistan, 1 August 1932
Ambassador Bai Chongxi had been here plenty of times before, and he had no doubt that he would be here again. After all, he was the Republic of China's Ambassador to the Kingdom of Afghanistan and the right man for the job.
Now it was almost an unspoken rule that the Republic would send Muslim ambassadors to Muslim countries. While it had started as a means of placating the Ma families, the general idea was that a Muslim country would be more-open to working with a diplomat who shared their faith.
That wasn't to say that any of the men who had taken ambassadorships to Ottomans, Jabal Shammar, Persia,or Afghanistan were necessarily incompetent. Far from it, in fact, if the strong economic relations between the former two during the Great War and the latter two's neutrality were anything to go by. And even if they were, there was always a small army of diplomats to pick up the slack.
That was how Bai ended up here in Kabul. They needed a Muslim from the KMT who could do the job, and he had distinguished himself as military attache in Constantinople during the Great War. That, and a career that had kept him as far away from Buddhist temples as possible this time around.
"It is interesting," said his host in English. "For a country that so adamantly rejects monarchy, your government has proven to be a strong ally and partner for my country."
"As my predecessor has no doubt emphasized, the Republic of China's opposition to monarchism is largely-based around China itself. Our monarchy was overthrown because it was incompetent and bound to ensure China endured the rest of the Century of Humiliation."
"I take it you share your predecessor's sentiment about Afghanistan as well?" Bai raised an eyebrow at the question. "That the continuation of prosperity of the monarchy is conducive to the prosperity and stability of Afghanistan."
"Then yes," the ambassador agreed. "In the Lost History, the overthrow of the monarchy was the first of a chain of events that led to decades of war, death, and suffering in this country. Add to it the failures of nation-building in that history, and it is clear that a continuation of the monarchy is in everyone's interest... with reform, of course."
"Of course," said the king. That wasn't much of a surprise when the man had been one of the greatest supporters of reform and modernization out of sheer practicality. Such was to be expected when increasing his country's prosperity and standard of living were conducive to him remaining in power. "The National Jirga has been key to convincing the various tribes over the years. Something that both of our nations have in common."
"How so?"
"When the Republic of China began its modernizations your nation's fledgling government utilized local party members and recruited leaders to advocate for the reforms in their communities. They were able to convince their people of these ideas because they understood their culture and spoke their language."
"The same could be said of the members of the National Jirga," the king continued. "Here, we have Pashtuns promoting Modernism to Pashtuns, Uzbeks promoting reforms to Uzbeks, and Tajiks introducing technologies to Tajiks, and so much more. In doing so, the most-qualified people are our greatest advocates, as they speak the language and have a vested interest in this succeeding."
Ambassador Bai could only nod in agreement. The logic was sound, and the King of Afghanistan knew how the game was played. Working with local leaders to promote your interests allowed one to say what they wanted to say in a way that others wanted to hear it, making it easier to convince them.
That was why the King of Afghanistan worked with the National Jirga, and it was why the Republic of China worked with the King of Afghanistan.
Port-au-Prince, Republic of Haiti, 20 August 1932
Jean Demoulins looked up at the bright summer sky y and smiled. Then again, he did that no matter what was in the sky. Rain or shine, cold or warm, he would always be smiling at the fact that Haiti was better-off than it had been a decade ago.
A lack of debt and American intervention allowed for stability. A deluge of foreign investment and grants allowed for prosperity.
That was the simple reality of it all.
While yes, there needed to be some outside help when it came to the initial stabilization, the fact of the matter was that the current Haitian government was not seen as an American puppet, and their economy wasn't constantly being strangled by foreign debt collectors trying to wring every cent from them.
But it was the sheer amount of grants and investments that allowed the nation to thrive. Be it investments in infrastructure, loans for local businesses, job training, schools staffed by volunteers, medical donations, or just foreign companies setting up factories and hiring locals, all of them contributed to an up-and-coming economy that had seen the median Haitian have a better life than even a decade ago.
Wages were up, along with Life Expectancy. Maternal, Infant, and Child mortality were down. This was to be expected when people had their basic needs met along with economic opportunities, but seeing it in action was something else.
Was it effectively throwing money at a problem? Yes. Not that he was about to complain, though. Food aid had kept his family from starving through the worst days, and he'd graduated with a General Education Degree from a school staffed by Chinese and French volunteers. In just a decade, he'd gone from working at a plantation to handling logistics for one of the largest textile plants in the country.
And that was before he got to the fact that his newborn son Pierre would almost-certainly avoid the same hardships that his father had endured while growing up. Not only that, but little Pierre and his sister on the way would not grow up in the turmoil or chaos of the Lost History.
But that was enough reminiscing for now. Right now, he had a shipment of machinery to retrieve from the port for the local co-operative, and this next shipment would create another thousand jobs at the factory he helped manage. That, and he would be able to go home to a nice meal with his wife, son, and the rest of his family before enjoying another peaceful night in his hometown.
So Jean Demoulins straightened his back and strode foward, smiling all the way. After all, he had much to smile about.
Guatemala City, United States of Central America, 9 September 1932
"This," said Provisional President Sandino over the still-smoldering city, "Is only the beginning. Though we are united, there is still much for us to do."
That much was obvious. Between the revolutionary coups across half of Central America by the left-wing Unionists and the resistance by the Conservatives and UFC-backed mercenaries, cities like Guatemala City (or "Guate" to the locals) were battered. Hopeful and optimistic, yes, but battered and bloodied all the same.
There would be other issues, of course. Though the Americans were ostensibly maintaining their neutrality (at least on paper), Sandino knew full well that there could be Marines on the shore in a matter of weeks, if not days. Contingencies would have to be planned and prepared to fight a guerrilla campaign against the Americans. Weapons would have to be stockpiled, and people would have to be pre-positioned.
That, and I will have to get in contact with our Volunteer friends from overseas. We will need enough caches and stockpiles to last years, if not a decade.
There wasn't any other choice, and he knew it. America may not be the world's most-powerful nation, but they were the most-immediate threat that the USCA faced right now. President Charles Curtis had already condemned the USCA's revolutions as "Internationale-backed insurgencies in violation of the Monroe Doctrine."
Rumor had it that he'd call on Congress to pass an Authorization of Military Force, and then an invasion would be all-but-inevitable if it passed. And if the newspapers and websites were to be believed, Curtis had the votes from the Conservative Republicans and Bourbon Democrats in both houses.
There was international pressure, of course. France and China had condemned Curtis' rhetoric, much to his surprise. Now, Sandino could understand France's opposition on the grounds that the Radical-Socialist nation was opposed to the rampant capitalism that came with the UFC.
But the Chinese? They had practically replaced the British in the "Special Relationship" with the United States ever since the Revolution. Americans saw the Chinese as a sort of "younger brother" when it came to democracy, while the Chinese saw the Americans as kindred spirits.
Yet here President Wang was, calling on his American counterpart to cease his calls for intervention in the name of world pease.
Him, the French, and probably half the United States.
It wasn't much, but he would take everything he could get right now.
United States Capitol, Washington, District of Columbia, 1 October 1932
Senator Smedley Darlington Butler took a breath, then a sip of water. He couldn't take too long, or else he would effectively end his fillibuster and allow the Majority Leader to begin the voting on on the Authorization of Military Force.
And he couldn't have that, now could he?
He'd spent so many years as a Marine fighting for Big Business, and he regretted every day of it. That was why he was here, speaking for hours on end against them.
"How many of you," he continued, "Have worn the uniform. I have. For over three decades, I have served in active duty and the reserves. And for much of that time, I have been a high-class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism. I killed men in Haiti and Cuba in the name of JP Morgan's balance sheet. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American nations so that the United Fruit Company's shareholders would have a better Q3 report. I brought light to the Dominican Republic in the name of America's sugar companies."
"In hindsight, I have done my fair share of military interventions on behalf of capital, to the point that may very well be an expert at it. And if I am, I am even more justified in my continued opposition to the Force Autorization against the Provisional Government of the United States of Central America!"
"I have seen my men die on the battlefields while politicians say in Capitol Hill and businessmen popped champagne on Wall Street. I have written letters to dozens of parents, lying to them that their boys died for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. What else was I supposed to tell them? That the shareholders of the United Fruit Company thank their son for his sacrifice so they could make another hundred dollars on their next return?!"
"Despite all that, I am a Marine. I have served faithfully and to the best of my abilities for over thirty years, and I know that there are times when force is necessary. As our younger brothers in China have shown us, there are causes worth fighting for. Much as I hate to admit it, there are times when sacrifices must be made for the Greater Good."
"Democracy is worth fighting for. Liberty is worth fighting for. The Downfall of Tyrants is worth fighting for."
"Profit is none of those things!" Butler shouted, as if he was still in uniform. He could see Johnson and La Follette practically jump out of their seats, despite both men being firmly on his side. "If anything, the profits that President Curtis wants to send our boys to fight for would do the exact opposite! The United Fruit Company repeatedly bribes our politicians in the name of lobbying, readily fights to suppress the liberty of others if it is in their financial interest, and they are more-than-willing to empower tyrants if those tyrants will give a good return on investment!"
"That, my colleagues, is what our brave young men will be fighting for if we pass this bill! If President Curtis has his way, we will sacrifice our nation's future on a people who are fighting for liberty, just as our forefathers did in the Revolutionary War and our Chinese brothers did in their own Revolution. Just as the Founding Fathers fought against the Intolerable Acts of King George and the Chinese fought against a Century of Humiliation under the Qing, these Central American Revolutionaries are fighting against the intolerable actions and the humiliations forced on them by the United Fruit Company!"
"That, my colleagues, is why I stand before you, making this speech. Because if we vote to allow President Curtis' war in Central America, we will be spending the taxpayer's money and shedding our sons' blood to destroy the very ideas he claims they would be fighting for!"
"So long as President Curtis and his allies seek to plunge our nation and our sons into a war that they and the United Fruit Company will not fight in, our nation will be condemned to a damnation of repeating the same mistakes as the Lost History! That is why I have spoken for the last thirteen hours, and I will speak for another thirteen if necessary!"
San Francisco Airport, San Francisco, United States of America, 20 November, 1932
"Well I'll be damned," Michael Chen chuckled as he looked at the magazine cover. "You actually did it, Butler."
That had to be the understatement of all understatements in his life, because his fellow marine, the man he'd kept a correspondence with for over a decade and a half, had managed to stop President Curtis from pursuing quite possibly the stupidest military mission the United States could do that did not involve the words, "Declare war on China," or "Send troops into Mexico."
Not only that, but Butler had managed to set the record for the longest filibuster, clocking in at a remarkable twenty-five hours that beat even Strom Thurmond's record in the Lost History.
And I thought I couldn't like the guy any more. Better that he has it than that racist bastard.
Factor in a last-second endorsement from across the aisle for Roosevelt, and the former Vice President had handily won the 1932 Election in a landslide.
Now, Michael may be an American citizen (to the point that he still even cast his vote by mail in California), but his work had kept him from keeping up to date on politics from his old home. But even he had heard about President Curtis' call for intervention in Central America, and it was practically a miracle that it didn't get through despite having the votes.
Mom always said that God works in mysterious ways. I guess this time, He used a skinny retired marine from Pennsylvania.
Hell of a job, Butler. Hell of a job.
Tokyo Harbor, Tokyo, Empire of Japan, 21 December 1932
Captain Jun Fukuyama looked over the papers, then towards the ship in the dockyard. It was the first of its kind, and the inventors had been looking for buyers.
Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have the money. Shipping was always in need, and he'd managed to grow his little fleet over two decades by virtue of being an early adopter of Modern shipping.
Then again, it wasn't as if he had anything else to spend it on, given his spartan lifestyle. Luxuries were all well and good, but he was a sailor through and through.
"Hydrogen powered..." he mused, "I would have never thought I'd see something like this twenty years ago."
"Twenty years ago," the engineer told him, "We hadn't had over a century of research to work on. What you are looking at is twenty years' worth of research and development of hydrogen fuel cells, storage, and efficiency that have made hydrogen-powered shipping commercially-viable for the first time."
"I see... The up-front cost is definitely something to worry about."
"Perhaps," the engineer admitted, "But it would almost-certainly save you more money in the long-term compared to a regular cargo ship."
"I suppose so, even with higher maintenance costs. So, how many orders have been placed?"
"Truth be told, sir?" the engineer said sheepishly, "You're the only one who returned our calls."
"Really?" The engineer nodded. "Is it because it's still untested?"
"In all likelihood, Captain. Most companies aren't willing to invest in a newer technology when carbon capture kits are basically standard for all ships at this point. There is the sake of novelty, but novelty isn't enough to convince people that it's commercially-viable."
"I see..." Fukuyama stalled, before looking at the surprisingly-clean ship some more. "Well, you can mark me down as a maybe for when I get back. I have a voyage to Shanghai, and I should be back within a month."
Now, this wasn't how most executives in the shipping industry worked. No, most of them sat in offices and lived in mansions.
Fukuyama was different. Not only was he a captain before he was a businessman, but he still captained his own flagship while using satellite communications to coordinate the rest of his fleet. He'd been a hands-on sort of leader since his IJN days, and that old habit would die hard with him.
That, and he honestly enjoyed being out on the open sea. This voyage would be business as usual, just as he liked it. The only difference was that this time, he had something to look forward to when he got back.
Topkapi Palace, Constantinople, Ottoman Empire, 25 January 1933
As far as neutral sites went, this was as close as they could get when Western Europe and Western Africa effectively took orders from Paris, the United States still followed the Monroe Doctrine, and the rest of the world was part of the Nanjing Accord. The Ottomans may be part of the Accord, but Constantinople was far enough away from Washington, Paris, and Nanjing.
"The world is at peace, but it is seemingly divided into three. One could even say that we are on the verge of a Cold War" Foreign Minister Zheng Yuxiu said to her French and American counterparts. While there were other dignitaries from the rest of the Accord, China was still the de-facto leader. That, and the others would rather have Zheng do the speaking for simplicity's sake. "It does not have to be that way."
"Yes, a Cold War would not be in any of our nations' interests," Secretary of State Cordell Hull agreed. "We are all democracies here, are we not?"
"That we are," said Foreign Minister Edouard Herriot. "Despite our disagreements on economics, all three of our nations- No, the vast majority of the world in fact, is some form of a democracy or another. That alone is enough to differentiate our circumstances from that of the Lost History."
Still, it went without saying that there was a form of the Great Game going on. France sought to assert its influence in West Africa and the newly-founded republics in Guyana and the Caribbean Federation. China's economic and cultural dominance reached into both the Americans' and the French "Spheres of Influence." And as previously-mentioned, America still asserted their influence through the Monroe Doctrine.
"We still need to address the elephant in the room," Hull pointed out, "Authoritarianism, whether it comes from the Far Left or the Far Right, ought to be avoided at all costs. Surely our nations could agree on that as a foundation."
"That we can," Herriot agreed. Of course, he probably despised the concept for a different reason than his American counterpart, but the point still stood. "Fascism and Authoritarian Socialism should never be given the chance to take root anywhere."
"Should we spend decades on an internecine conflict," Zheng added, "It is well within the realm of possibility that we would weaken ourselves and allow for such a movement to flourish while we lick our wounds."
Both Hull and Herriot nodded. That, and they knew full well the suffering and chaos that came with the Lost History's Cold War, along with the failures of the Soviet Union and the neo-fascist movements that began to take root after its fall.
"Cooperation," Zheng continued, "Is key."
"Exactly how much cooperation are you suggesting, Zheng?" Hull asked her point-blank. "Because I can assure you that while the United States is more-than-willing to cooperate with the rest of the world, we will not cede an inch of sovereignty without reason."
"I must agree with my American counterpart," Herriot chimed in, "Although we have prospered greatly from our cooperation, Minister, I share my American counterpart's sentiment when it comes to sovereignty and economics."
"With all due respect," Hull continued, "While we do have our Special Relationship, the American people are opposed to any cooperation that would lead to Chinese hegemony over the world. I am sure that my French counterpart, as well as many of the other diplomats assembled here, share this sentiment."
"Then it is a good thing that I am advocating for nothing of the sort," Zheng pointed out. "What I am proposing is the formation of an supranational organization where the governments of the world can cooperate with one another where it is possible. As we have said before, we have more in common than we do not, be it democracy, science, technology, healthcare, education, historical and cultural preservation, sports, security, and the prevention of Fascism."
"Among other things, I presume?" Herriot asked. Zheng nodded. "I thought so."
"A coalition of the willing," Hull mused, "At least when it comes to these topics."
"Precisely," Zheng answered. From the look on her American counterpart's face, she could see him warming up to the idea. "Any such organization would be focused around areas of mutual interest for all involved."
"So the United Nations of the Lost History," Herriot surmised, "But without the failures of the Lost History, I presume."
Zheng nodded again, and the French diplomat continued. "And how exactly do you intend for this... Coalition of Nations to avoid those same mistakes?"
"I will get there in due time," Zheng told him, "But what I am asking is if you two are open to the concept in the first place."
"What about the rest of the Nanjing Accord?" Herriot asked, half-accusingly, "Or is China negotiating on their behalf once more?"
"The Accord Council has already voted to form an exploratory committee on this organization," the Chinese diplomat informed him. "For all intents and purposes, the Accord would participate, should your governments be willing to cooperate."
"And if we don't?" asked Hull, "What happens then?"
"Then it's business as usual in the Nanjing Accord, and the various governments of the world have to start from scratch with every treaty, agreement, and partnership between ourselves."
"I see..." the Tennessean mused, "This will have to be approved by Congress, but I'm fairly-certain President Roosevelt has the votes."
"Elysee will likely agree with this as well," Herriot presumed, "While I cannot promise the same for our comrades in Britain, the Benelux, Germany, Italy, and Iberia, I am sure they can be convinced in due time once the minutiae is agreed upon."
"Of course," Zheng agreed. "I'll be sure to have my staff forward you the documents once this meeting is finished."
While yes, she was agreeing to future meetings about future agreements, the fact remained that the two largest obstacles to the formation of this Coalition of Nations had just been removed.
It would be hard. Of course it would be hard, given the failure of the League of Nations and the shortcomings of the United Nations. Avoiding those mistakes would be a top priority in any organization that sought to emulate them.
But if this worked, and they could learn from the Lost History's mistakes, the benefits would be astronomical. An entire Cold War could be prevented, and resources that would have gone to war would otherwise be spent on more-peaceful endeavors.
Millions, if not tens of millions, would not die.
It would be a better world in that sense. No, it wouldn't be a utopia, but it would be better than the potential alternatives.
It would be hard, of course. The United Nations, for all its flaws, was the product of negotiations and the bloodiest war of the Lost History. And here they were, trying to recreate it without those flaws or the Second World War.
Still, as difficult as it may be, all three diplomats knew that a better world was worth working towards.
Then again, a better world was always worth fighting for.
Ambassador Bai Chongxi had been here plenty of times before, and he had no doubt that he would be here again. After all, he was the Republic of China's Ambassador to the Kingdom of Afghanistan and the right man for the job.
Now it was almost an unspoken rule that the Republic would send Muslim ambassadors to Muslim countries. While it had started as a means of placating the Ma families, the general idea was that a Muslim country would be more-open to working with a diplomat who shared their faith.
That wasn't to say that any of the men who had taken ambassadorships to Ottomans, Jabal Shammar, Persia,or Afghanistan were necessarily incompetent. Far from it, in fact, if the strong economic relations between the former two during the Great War and the latter two's neutrality were anything to go by. And even if they were, there was always a small army of diplomats to pick up the slack.
That was how Bai ended up here in Kabul. They needed a Muslim from the KMT who could do the job, and he had distinguished himself as military attache in Constantinople during the Great War. That, and a career that had kept him as far away from Buddhist temples as possible this time around.
"It is interesting," said his host in English. "For a country that so adamantly rejects monarchy, your government has proven to be a strong ally and partner for my country."
"As my predecessor has no doubt emphasized, the Republic of China's opposition to monarchism is largely-based around China itself. Our monarchy was overthrown because it was incompetent and bound to ensure China endured the rest of the Century of Humiliation."
"I take it you share your predecessor's sentiment about Afghanistan as well?" Bai raised an eyebrow at the question. "That the continuation of prosperity of the monarchy is conducive to the prosperity and stability of Afghanistan."
"Then yes," the ambassador agreed. "In the Lost History, the overthrow of the monarchy was the first of a chain of events that led to decades of war, death, and suffering in this country. Add to it the failures of nation-building in that history, and it is clear that a continuation of the monarchy is in everyone's interest... with reform, of course."
"Of course," said the king. That wasn't much of a surprise when the man had been one of the greatest supporters of reform and modernization out of sheer practicality. Such was to be expected when increasing his country's prosperity and standard of living were conducive to him remaining in power. "The National Jirga has been key to convincing the various tribes over the years. Something that both of our nations have in common."
"How so?"
"When the Republic of China began its modernizations your nation's fledgling government utilized local party members and recruited leaders to advocate for the reforms in their communities. They were able to convince their people of these ideas because they understood their culture and spoke their language."
"The same could be said of the members of the National Jirga," the king continued. "Here, we have Pashtuns promoting Modernism to Pashtuns, Uzbeks promoting reforms to Uzbeks, and Tajiks introducing technologies to Tajiks, and so much more. In doing so, the most-qualified people are our greatest advocates, as they speak the language and have a vested interest in this succeeding."
Ambassador Bai could only nod in agreement. The logic was sound, and the King of Afghanistan knew how the game was played. Working with local leaders to promote your interests allowed one to say what they wanted to say in a way that others wanted to hear it, making it easier to convince them.
That was why the King of Afghanistan worked with the National Jirga, and it was why the Republic of China worked with the King of Afghanistan.
Port-au-Prince, Republic of Haiti, 20 August 1932
Jean Demoulins looked up at the bright summer sky y and smiled. Then again, he did that no matter what was in the sky. Rain or shine, cold or warm, he would always be smiling at the fact that Haiti was better-off than it had been a decade ago.
A lack of debt and American intervention allowed for stability. A deluge of foreign investment and grants allowed for prosperity.
That was the simple reality of it all.
While yes, there needed to be some outside help when it came to the initial stabilization, the fact of the matter was that the current Haitian government was not seen as an American puppet, and their economy wasn't constantly being strangled by foreign debt collectors trying to wring every cent from them.
But it was the sheer amount of grants and investments that allowed the nation to thrive. Be it investments in infrastructure, loans for local businesses, job training, schools staffed by volunteers, medical donations, or just foreign companies setting up factories and hiring locals, all of them contributed to an up-and-coming economy that had seen the median Haitian have a better life than even a decade ago.
Wages were up, along with Life Expectancy. Maternal, Infant, and Child mortality were down. This was to be expected when people had their basic needs met along with economic opportunities, but seeing it in action was something else.
Was it effectively throwing money at a problem? Yes. Not that he was about to complain, though. Food aid had kept his family from starving through the worst days, and he'd graduated with a General Education Degree from a school staffed by Chinese and French volunteers. In just a decade, he'd gone from working at a plantation to handling logistics for one of the largest textile plants in the country.
And that was before he got to the fact that his newborn son Pierre would almost-certainly avoid the same hardships that his father had endured while growing up. Not only that, but little Pierre and his sister on the way would not grow up in the turmoil or chaos of the Lost History.
But that was enough reminiscing for now. Right now, he had a shipment of machinery to retrieve from the port for the local co-operative, and this next shipment would create another thousand jobs at the factory he helped manage. That, and he would be able to go home to a nice meal with his wife, son, and the rest of his family before enjoying another peaceful night in his hometown.
So Jean Demoulins straightened his back and strode foward, smiling all the way. After all, he had much to smile about.
Guatemala City, United States of Central America, 9 September 1932
"This," said Provisional President Sandino over the still-smoldering city, "Is only the beginning. Though we are united, there is still much for us to do."
That much was obvious. Between the revolutionary coups across half of Central America by the left-wing Unionists and the resistance by the Conservatives and UFC-backed mercenaries, cities like Guatemala City (or "Guate" to the locals) were battered. Hopeful and optimistic, yes, but battered and bloodied all the same.
There would be other issues, of course. Though the Americans were ostensibly maintaining their neutrality (at least on paper), Sandino knew full well that there could be Marines on the shore in a matter of weeks, if not days. Contingencies would have to be planned and prepared to fight a guerrilla campaign against the Americans. Weapons would have to be stockpiled, and people would have to be pre-positioned.
That, and I will have to get in contact with our Volunteer friends from overseas. We will need enough caches and stockpiles to last years, if not a decade.
There wasn't any other choice, and he knew it. America may not be the world's most-powerful nation, but they were the most-immediate threat that the USCA faced right now. President Charles Curtis had already condemned the USCA's revolutions as "Internationale-backed insurgencies in violation of the Monroe Doctrine."
Rumor had it that he'd call on Congress to pass an Authorization of Military Force, and then an invasion would be all-but-inevitable if it passed. And if the newspapers and websites were to be believed, Curtis had the votes from the Conservative Republicans and Bourbon Democrats in both houses.
There was international pressure, of course. France and China had condemned Curtis' rhetoric, much to his surprise. Now, Sandino could understand France's opposition on the grounds that the Radical-Socialist nation was opposed to the rampant capitalism that came with the UFC.
But the Chinese? They had practically replaced the British in the "Special Relationship" with the United States ever since the Revolution. Americans saw the Chinese as a sort of "younger brother" when it came to democracy, while the Chinese saw the Americans as kindred spirits.
Yet here President Wang was, calling on his American counterpart to cease his calls for intervention in the name of world pease.
Him, the French, and probably half the United States.
It wasn't much, but he would take everything he could get right now.
United States Capitol, Washington, District of Columbia, 1 October 1932
Senator Smedley Darlington Butler took a breath, then a sip of water. He couldn't take too long, or else he would effectively end his fillibuster and allow the Majority Leader to begin the voting on on the Authorization of Military Force.
And he couldn't have that, now could he?
He'd spent so many years as a Marine fighting for Big Business, and he regretted every day of it. That was why he was here, speaking for hours on end against them.
"How many of you," he continued, "Have worn the uniform. I have. For over three decades, I have served in active duty and the reserves. And for much of that time, I have been a high-class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism. I killed men in Haiti and Cuba in the name of JP Morgan's balance sheet. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American nations so that the United Fruit Company's shareholders would have a better Q3 report. I brought light to the Dominican Republic in the name of America's sugar companies."
"In hindsight, I have done my fair share of military interventions on behalf of capital, to the point that may very well be an expert at it. And if I am, I am even more justified in my continued opposition to the Force Autorization against the Provisional Government of the United States of Central America!"
"I have seen my men die on the battlefields while politicians say in Capitol Hill and businessmen popped champagne on Wall Street. I have written letters to dozens of parents, lying to them that their boys died for Truth, Justice, and the American Way. What else was I supposed to tell them? That the shareholders of the United Fruit Company thank their son for his sacrifice so they could make another hundred dollars on their next return?!"
"Despite all that, I am a Marine. I have served faithfully and to the best of my abilities for over thirty years, and I know that there are times when force is necessary. As our younger brothers in China have shown us, there are causes worth fighting for. Much as I hate to admit it, there are times when sacrifices must be made for the Greater Good."
"Democracy is worth fighting for. Liberty is worth fighting for. The Downfall of Tyrants is worth fighting for."
"Profit is none of those things!" Butler shouted, as if he was still in uniform. He could see Johnson and La Follette practically jump out of their seats, despite both men being firmly on his side. "If anything, the profits that President Curtis wants to send our boys to fight for would do the exact opposite! The United Fruit Company repeatedly bribes our politicians in the name of lobbying, readily fights to suppress the liberty of others if it is in their financial interest, and they are more-than-willing to empower tyrants if those tyrants will give a good return on investment!"
"That, my colleagues, is what our brave young men will be fighting for if we pass this bill! If President Curtis has his way, we will sacrifice our nation's future on a people who are fighting for liberty, just as our forefathers did in the Revolutionary War and our Chinese brothers did in their own Revolution. Just as the Founding Fathers fought against the Intolerable Acts of King George and the Chinese fought against a Century of Humiliation under the Qing, these Central American Revolutionaries are fighting against the intolerable actions and the humiliations forced on them by the United Fruit Company!"
"That, my colleagues, is why I stand before you, making this speech. Because if we vote to allow President Curtis' war in Central America, we will be spending the taxpayer's money and shedding our sons' blood to destroy the very ideas he claims they would be fighting for!"
"So long as President Curtis and his allies seek to plunge our nation and our sons into a war that they and the United Fruit Company will not fight in, our nation will be condemned to a damnation of repeating the same mistakes as the Lost History! That is why I have spoken for the last thirteen hours, and I will speak for another thirteen if necessary!"
San Francisco Airport, San Francisco, United States of America, 20 November, 1932
"Well I'll be damned," Michael Chen chuckled as he looked at the magazine cover. "You actually did it, Butler."
That had to be the understatement of all understatements in his life, because his fellow marine, the man he'd kept a correspondence with for over a decade and a half, had managed to stop President Curtis from pursuing quite possibly the stupidest military mission the United States could do that did not involve the words, "Declare war on China," or "Send troops into Mexico."
Not only that, but Butler had managed to set the record for the longest filibuster, clocking in at a remarkable twenty-five hours that beat even Strom Thurmond's record in the Lost History.
And I thought I couldn't like the guy any more. Better that he has it than that racist bastard.
Factor in a last-second endorsement from across the aisle for Roosevelt, and the former Vice President had handily won the 1932 Election in a landslide.
Now, Michael may be an American citizen (to the point that he still even cast his vote by mail in California), but his work had kept him from keeping up to date on politics from his old home. But even he had heard about President Curtis' call for intervention in Central America, and it was practically a miracle that it didn't get through despite having the votes.
Mom always said that God works in mysterious ways. I guess this time, He used a skinny retired marine from Pennsylvania.
Hell of a job, Butler. Hell of a job.
Tokyo Harbor, Tokyo, Empire of Japan, 21 December 1932
Captain Jun Fukuyama looked over the papers, then towards the ship in the dockyard. It was the first of its kind, and the inventors had been looking for buyers.
Well, it wasn't as if he didn't have the money. Shipping was always in need, and he'd managed to grow his little fleet over two decades by virtue of being an early adopter of Modern shipping.
Then again, it wasn't as if he had anything else to spend it on, given his spartan lifestyle. Luxuries were all well and good, but he was a sailor through and through.
"Hydrogen powered..." he mused, "I would have never thought I'd see something like this twenty years ago."
"Twenty years ago," the engineer told him, "We hadn't had over a century of research to work on. What you are looking at is twenty years' worth of research and development of hydrogen fuel cells, storage, and efficiency that have made hydrogen-powered shipping commercially-viable for the first time."
"I see... The up-front cost is definitely something to worry about."
"Perhaps," the engineer admitted, "But it would almost-certainly save you more money in the long-term compared to a regular cargo ship."
"I suppose so, even with higher maintenance costs. So, how many orders have been placed?"
"Truth be told, sir?" the engineer said sheepishly, "You're the only one who returned our calls."
"Really?" The engineer nodded. "Is it because it's still untested?"
"In all likelihood, Captain. Most companies aren't willing to invest in a newer technology when carbon capture kits are basically standard for all ships at this point. There is the sake of novelty, but novelty isn't enough to convince people that it's commercially-viable."
"I see..." Fukuyama stalled, before looking at the surprisingly-clean ship some more. "Well, you can mark me down as a maybe for when I get back. I have a voyage to Shanghai, and I should be back within a month."
Now, this wasn't how most executives in the shipping industry worked. No, most of them sat in offices and lived in mansions.
Fukuyama was different. Not only was he a captain before he was a businessman, but he still captained his own flagship while using satellite communications to coordinate the rest of his fleet. He'd been a hands-on sort of leader since his IJN days, and that old habit would die hard with him.
That, and he honestly enjoyed being out on the open sea. This voyage would be business as usual, just as he liked it. The only difference was that this time, he had something to look forward to when he got back.
Topkapi Palace, Constantinople, Ottoman Empire, 25 January 1933
As far as neutral sites went, this was as close as they could get when Western Europe and Western Africa effectively took orders from Paris, the United States still followed the Monroe Doctrine, and the rest of the world was part of the Nanjing Accord. The Ottomans may be part of the Accord, but Constantinople was far enough away from Washington, Paris, and Nanjing.
"The world is at peace, but it is seemingly divided into three. One could even say that we are on the verge of a Cold War" Foreign Minister Zheng Yuxiu said to her French and American counterparts. While there were other dignitaries from the rest of the Accord, China was still the de-facto leader. That, and the others would rather have Zheng do the speaking for simplicity's sake. "It does not have to be that way."
"Yes, a Cold War would not be in any of our nations' interests," Secretary of State Cordell Hull agreed. "We are all democracies here, are we not?"
"That we are," said Foreign Minister Edouard Herriot. "Despite our disagreements on economics, all three of our nations- No, the vast majority of the world in fact, is some form of a democracy or another. That alone is enough to differentiate our circumstances from that of the Lost History."
Still, it went without saying that there was a form of the Great Game going on. France sought to assert its influence in West Africa and the newly-founded republics in Guyana and the Caribbean Federation. China's economic and cultural dominance reached into both the Americans' and the French "Spheres of Influence." And as previously-mentioned, America still asserted their influence through the Monroe Doctrine.
"We still need to address the elephant in the room," Hull pointed out, "Authoritarianism, whether it comes from the Far Left or the Far Right, ought to be avoided at all costs. Surely our nations could agree on that as a foundation."
"That we can," Herriot agreed. Of course, he probably despised the concept for a different reason than his American counterpart, but the point still stood. "Fascism and Authoritarian Socialism should never be given the chance to take root anywhere."
"Should we spend decades on an internecine conflict," Zheng added, "It is well within the realm of possibility that we would weaken ourselves and allow for such a movement to flourish while we lick our wounds."
Both Hull and Herriot nodded. That, and they knew full well the suffering and chaos that came with the Lost History's Cold War, along with the failures of the Soviet Union and the neo-fascist movements that began to take root after its fall.
"Cooperation," Zheng continued, "Is key."
"Exactly how much cooperation are you suggesting, Zheng?" Hull asked her point-blank. "Because I can assure you that while the United States is more-than-willing to cooperate with the rest of the world, we will not cede an inch of sovereignty without reason."
"I must agree with my American counterpart," Herriot chimed in, "Although we have prospered greatly from our cooperation, Minister, I share my American counterpart's sentiment when it comes to sovereignty and economics."
"With all due respect," Hull continued, "While we do have our Special Relationship, the American people are opposed to any cooperation that would lead to Chinese hegemony over the world. I am sure that my French counterpart, as well as many of the other diplomats assembled here, share this sentiment."
"Then it is a good thing that I am advocating for nothing of the sort," Zheng pointed out. "What I am proposing is the formation of an supranational organization where the governments of the world can cooperate with one another where it is possible. As we have said before, we have more in common than we do not, be it democracy, science, technology, healthcare, education, historical and cultural preservation, sports, security, and the prevention of Fascism."
"Among other things, I presume?" Herriot asked. Zheng nodded. "I thought so."
"A coalition of the willing," Hull mused, "At least when it comes to these topics."
"Precisely," Zheng answered. From the look on her American counterpart's face, she could see him warming up to the idea. "Any such organization would be focused around areas of mutual interest for all involved."
"So the United Nations of the Lost History," Herriot surmised, "But without the failures of the Lost History, I presume."
Zheng nodded again, and the French diplomat continued. "And how exactly do you intend for this... Coalition of Nations to avoid those same mistakes?"
"I will get there in due time," Zheng told him, "But what I am asking is if you two are open to the concept in the first place."
"What about the rest of the Nanjing Accord?" Herriot asked, half-accusingly, "Or is China negotiating on their behalf once more?"
"The Accord Council has already voted to form an exploratory committee on this organization," the Chinese diplomat informed him. "For all intents and purposes, the Accord would participate, should your governments be willing to cooperate."
"And if we don't?" asked Hull, "What happens then?"
"Then it's business as usual in the Nanjing Accord, and the various governments of the world have to start from scratch with every treaty, agreement, and partnership between ourselves."
"I see..." the Tennessean mused, "This will have to be approved by Congress, but I'm fairly-certain President Roosevelt has the votes."
"Elysee will likely agree with this as well," Herriot presumed, "While I cannot promise the same for our comrades in Britain, the Benelux, Germany, Italy, and Iberia, I am sure they can be convinced in due time once the minutiae is agreed upon."
"Of course," Zheng agreed. "I'll be sure to have my staff forward you the documents once this meeting is finished."
While yes, she was agreeing to future meetings about future agreements, the fact remained that the two largest obstacles to the formation of this Coalition of Nations had just been removed.
It would be hard. Of course it would be hard, given the failure of the League of Nations and the shortcomings of the United Nations. Avoiding those mistakes would be a top priority in any organization that sought to emulate them.
But if this worked, and they could learn from the Lost History's mistakes, the benefits would be astronomical. An entire Cold War could be prevented, and resources that would have gone to war would otherwise be spent on more-peaceful endeavors.
Millions, if not tens of millions, would not die.
It would be a better world in that sense. No, it wouldn't be a utopia, but it would be better than the potential alternatives.
It would be hard, of course. The United Nations, for all its flaws, was the product of negotiations and the bloodiest war of the Lost History. And here they were, trying to recreate it without those flaws or the Second World War.
Still, as difficult as it may be, all three diplomats knew that a better world was worth working towards.
Then again, a better world was always worth fighting for.
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
With the new chapter finished, it's time for my favorite topic of sidestories:
"Getting To Geek Out Over Fictional Futuristic Technology"
"Getting To Geek Out Over Fictional Futuristic Technology"
- Pronouns
- He
I swear, if we don't get a hoverboard by 2015, I'm dropping this fic! /S
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There's probably a prototype, but the scientific consensus is probably, "People can't drive for jack in two dimensions, we're not giving them flying cars or skateboards," probably followed by dashcam footage of people driving in Metro Manila.
Jeepneys still exist, though, which is kinda nice.
Not to mention, with skateboards you only really need to worry about going along one axis and leaning on another. How the hell is anyone supposed to handle full, practically frictionless 360º motion plus leaning, and hovering? Granted, I stand-up-paddle, so if hoverboards moved somewhat similarly, I could see it working, since I practically never fall now that I've got multiple years of experience. But SUP boards are nearly as tall as I am, and you stand-up-paddle with both feet on the board. Even I struggle to stay on the board with only one foot on it, and I make a habit of doing stupid maneuvers like standing on one end and making the board spin for fun.
Not to mention that a hoverboard like that would be both wildly impractical, and completely unlike the traditional depiction on hoverboards. Plus, I've seen people learning, and they fall a lot. Not a problem when you're falling in water, but even then I've had friends and family bang up my board and get bruised falling on the board instead of into the water.
So, in conclusion, the axis of possible hoverboard designs has "that is wildly impractical, why would you even use it?" on one end, and "you are going to faceplant into concrete" on the other.
Map of the World, 1933
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
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- Location
- Most likely California
Okay, what is going on in West Africa? Did I miss a new country forming? And what is with Liberia just hanging out there by itself?
ChrisProvidence
Time Traveling Unequal Treaty Destroyer
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Actually, that one is an error. Should be "French West Africa."
French colonies combined with the European colonies in West Africa from the Alliance that were captured during the Great War.
The big issue there is France wrestling with the implications of colonialism while also not wanting to give up their colonial empire.
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