When the world is marching into the abyss, who will step up to bring humanity back from the brink? And once the dust has settled, what will the future bring? A future history timeline that takes place in the past of my original science fiction setting.
Lest the World Perish: A Timeline of the Near-Apocalypse
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Introduction and Table of Contents
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
"Looking back on the dawn of the second millennium, what many of us find striking is how many of those that lived in that tumultuous period did not think of themselves as being in the middle of anything. Their historians chose 1989 or 1991 - the collapse of the Eastern Bloc and the fall of the Soviet Union, respectively, as the year denoting the start of their era of history. Many even called it the End of History, as the Western-led world order had triumphed over all ideological adversaries. In their eyes, all future conflicts would be regional power struggles, merely roadblocks on the path to total Western hegemony, and a future liberal utopia.
Our textbooks use a different year to divide history by: 1973. This was the year when the global economy was brought to its knees by an oil crisis, destroying the post-war social contract that had been established in the West. The subsequent decades would see further events - the coverup of the impending threat of climate change by the fossil fuel industry, a global pandemic, multiple wars, three recessions, the decline of the Western labor movement, and skyrocketing income inequality - that would drive the world closer and closer to catastrophe.
It is for this reason that most historians have labeled the period from 1973 to 2042 as the Great Undoing, for it would lead to the unravelling of the Western world order, and its replacement with something different altogether."
- Excerpt from lecture in History and Politics of Antebellum Earth: 1973-2033, Tsinghua University, 2112 C.E.
Welcome to my first major attempt at writing fiction. The ideas for this future history have been kicking around in my head for years now, and the time has come to put them out. As a note, this timeline is supposed to be a prequel to an original science fiction setting of mine, temporarily known as "Transhelion." I felt that the future I envision, with humanity united under a world government with radically different politics from the modern day, is different enough from ours that an explanation of how humanity got there is required. In addition, the events of the last few years and my online political experiences have compelled me to share my perspective on things, lest I lose my sanity. This will be a politically-charged timeline, but not a partisan one. I am not telling you to vote for any one candidate or campaign for any one party. I will also try to keep explicit soapboxing to an absolute minimum, as a compelling narrative takes priority.
In addition, while I have done extensive research on global geopolitics in order to write this timeline, keep in mind that my primary objective is to tell a good story and not adhere strictly to the most likely or plausible series of events. For that reason, and because I am uncomfortable with writing real people as fictional characters, this timeline will heavily depend on original characters, through which the story will be told. I will supplement the narrative segments with more traditional timeline exposition dumps in order to explain subjects that cannot be easily explained through a viewpoint character. This timeline will still be more narrative-heavy than most, in order to grant it a broader appeal.
Finally, I do intend to eventually revise and expand on this timeline once it is complete, with my final goal being to publish it as a novel. Consider the version on Sufficient Velocity to be a first draft. Rest assured, I will be listening to your feedback.
Table of Contents:
This will be updated with chapters as they are uploaded.
Our textbooks use a different year to divide history by: 1973. This was the year when the global economy was brought to its knees by an oil crisis, destroying the post-war social contract that had been established in the West. The subsequent decades would see further events - the coverup of the impending threat of climate change by the fossil fuel industry, a global pandemic, multiple wars, three recessions, the decline of the Western labor movement, and skyrocketing income inequality - that would drive the world closer and closer to catastrophe.
It is for this reason that most historians have labeled the period from 1973 to 2042 as the Great Undoing, for it would lead to the unravelling of the Western world order, and its replacement with something different altogether."
- Excerpt from lecture in History and Politics of Antebellum Earth: 1973-2033, Tsinghua University, 2112 C.E.
Welcome to my first major attempt at writing fiction. The ideas for this future history have been kicking around in my head for years now, and the time has come to put them out. As a note, this timeline is supposed to be a prequel to an original science fiction setting of mine, temporarily known as "Transhelion." I felt that the future I envision, with humanity united under a world government with radically different politics from the modern day, is different enough from ours that an explanation of how humanity got there is required. In addition, the events of the last few years and my online political experiences have compelled me to share my perspective on things, lest I lose my sanity. This will be a politically-charged timeline, but not a partisan one. I am not telling you to vote for any one candidate or campaign for any one party. I will also try to keep explicit soapboxing to an absolute minimum, as a compelling narrative takes priority.
In addition, while I have done extensive research on global geopolitics in order to write this timeline, keep in mind that my primary objective is to tell a good story and not adhere strictly to the most likely or plausible series of events. For that reason, and because I am uncomfortable with writing real people as fictional characters, this timeline will heavily depend on original characters, through which the story will be told. I will supplement the narrative segments with more traditional timeline exposition dumps in order to explain subjects that cannot be easily explained through a viewpoint character. This timeline will still be more narrative-heavy than most, in order to grant it a broader appeal.
Finally, I do intend to eventually revise and expand on this timeline once it is complete, with my final goal being to publish it as a novel. Consider the version on Sufficient Velocity to be a first draft. Rest assured, I will be listening to your feedback.
Table of Contents:
Part 1: The Great Undoing (2020-2024)
Chapter 1: The Winter of Discontent
Chapter 2: The Dragon Falters
Chapter 3: It Only Takes a Spark
Chapter 4: Crimson Sands
Chapter 5: To the Madness of Daring
Chapter 6: We Chant A Song
Chapter 7: What is to be Done?
Chapter 8: Descent and Ascent
Chapter 9: A Journey of a Thousand Miles
Chapter 10: Checkmate
Chapter 11: The Problems of Today
Chapter 12: The 101st Kilometer
Chapter 13: Where the Wind Blows
Part 2: A Twilight Struggle (2024-2033)
Part 3: Titanomachy (2033-2035)
Part 4: Ashes to Ashes (2035-2042)
Part 5: A Red Dawn (2042-)
This will be updated with chapters as they are uploaded.
Note: While I am continuing to post the occasional teaser on this thread, I am now writing Lest the World Perish in public, and have done significant changes to the narrative compared to the material posted here.
Last edited:
Chapter 1.1 - The Winter of Discontent
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
November 3, 2020
San Francisco
The Sun was still above the horizon when Julian Montfort was out on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, admiring his exclusive view of the waterfront. Beneath him, he observed the streets of his home city. In most years, they would be awash with traffic and pedestrians, but to say that this year had been abnormal was a gross understatement. The streets were mostly empty, with a few major exceptions: the long lines of people gathered at polling places, waiting in line to cast their votes. Julian would not join them, and he was one of the few individuals in his social circles who would not be glued to his television screen later that night, watching the election. He had long-ago realized that the horse-race was for the little people, those who chose to invest their precious time and energy in mindless spectacle while he was busy building a commercial empire that crossed the world.
That was not to say that Julian felt politics beneath him. On the contrary, he had been invested in it since he had made his first million. He had donated to political advocacy groups, consulted with campaigns, and gotten the ear of every bigwig in Sacramento. This way, he had accomplished more meaningful goals: favorable tax policies for tech companies, exemptions to labor regulations for contractors, and a paucity of regulation on innovation. He came to understand that nobody could get anywhere in California politics without the aid of people like him, and he milked it for all it was worth.
After a few minutes, Julian grew tired of the view, and retreated to his penthouse. The people outside thought that this night was the culmination of years of political conflict, and that, come January, they could finally stop caring about politics. But for Julian, his battle had only just begun.
San Francisco
The Sun was still above the horizon when Julian Montfort was out on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, admiring his exclusive view of the waterfront. Beneath him, he observed the streets of his home city. In most years, they would be awash with traffic and pedestrians, but to say that this year had been abnormal was a gross understatement. The streets were mostly empty, with a few major exceptions: the long lines of people gathered at polling places, waiting in line to cast their votes. Julian would not join them, and he was one of the few individuals in his social circles who would not be glued to his television screen later that night, watching the election. He had long-ago realized that the horse-race was for the little people, those who chose to invest their precious time and energy in mindless spectacle while he was busy building a commercial empire that crossed the world.
That was not to say that Julian felt politics beneath him. On the contrary, he had been invested in it since he had made his first million. He had donated to political advocacy groups, consulted with campaigns, and gotten the ear of every bigwig in Sacramento. This way, he had accomplished more meaningful goals: favorable tax policies for tech companies, exemptions to labor regulations for contractors, and a paucity of regulation on innovation. He came to understand that nobody could get anywhere in California politics without the aid of people like him, and he milked it for all it was worth.
After a few minutes, Julian grew tired of the view, and retreated to his penthouse. The people outside thought that this night was the culmination of years of political conflict, and that, come January, they could finally stop caring about politics. But for Julian, his battle had only just begun.
Chapter 1.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Journal of Emil Ilyich Shabayev
December 11, 2020
I never thought I would be the type of man to write a journal. But this year has been difficult, and I feel like I will go insane if I cannot put down my thoughts.
My name is Emil Ilyich Shabayev. I was born on January 31st, 1971, in the city of Akademgorodok on the outskirts of Novosibirsk. My father was a theater director seeking intellectual freedom. My mother was a geneticist at the Novosibirsk Institute of Cytology and Genetics, best known for assisting the renowned Soviet scientist Dmitry Belyayev in his successful domestication of the silver fox. My childhood was a surprisingly happy one, all things considered. Akademgorodok was shielded from the stagnation of the Brezhnev era, and the prestige of its academic community meant that my family had access to luxuries most Soviet citizens could only find on the black market. In addition, the authorities turned a blind eye to ideological currents that would not be tolerated in the rest of the Union, making Akademgorodok a haven for dissident artists and thinkers. My parents could not decide if I was to be an artist or a scientist, so I decided to take a third route. I was always fascinated with both the study of society and with politics, so I resolved to become a sociologist. While I was attending secondary school, I dreamed that I could use my future expertise to resolve the pressing issues the Union faced, and to chart a new course for socialism.
The fall of the Soviet Union completely derailed my plans. Realizing that the next decade would be disastrous for Russia's academia, I, like many others of my age, fled to the West. I managed to enroll at King's College of London, and moved to the United Kingdom, embarking on a journey into a vast, uncertain world. I studied well, acquired a bachelor's degree, then transferred to Oxford for my PhD program. Afterwards, I settled into a position as a social researcher, got married, and found a home.
I should have been happy there. After all, I was living in the developed West, with a decent-paying and stable job that I was passionate about. I had a wife and a comfortable existence. I was supposed to be a beneficiary of the End of History.
And yet, I was miserable. The culture in the United Kingdom felt alien and off-putting. Everyone there seemed more and more dejected as the years went by, for reasons they could not understand. My research focused on the plight of impoverished communities in Britain. For years I visited decaying industrial towns in the Midlands, shuttered coal mines in Wales, and second-rate immigrant communities in London. The people there completely lacked the optimism that my contemporaries shared in the future. For them, their life prospects had peaked during the Cold War, and the only future they saw was an endless grind. But it was not just Britain that was subject to this malaise. I kept up with world events, witnessed the collapse of the economies of the former Eastern Bloc, the Yugoslav Wars, the Gulf War, terrorist attacks and American interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan. The world, far from heading for a bright, liberal future, was instead mired in endless conflict, this time bereft of any ideology. However, most people in the West did not pay attention to the suffering at home. It was as if they had blocked it out of their vision, and I was the only one who possessed sight.
In time, this cloud of understanding that hung over me became too much for me to bear. I started drinking, my marital relationship deteriorated and, in 2006, I got a divorce. Finally, in 2008, I could stand it no more, and decided to return to Russia after finding out that Putin had stepped aside as President. I thought that this change in Russian politics would open an opportunity for me to make a mark on my native land, an opportunity that I lacked in the West. I was hired as a professor at Novosibirsk State University and joined a local institute for policy as an associate. Unfortunately, my hopes were once again dashed only a few years later, but I am sure that anyone who ends up reading this knows what events I am referring to.
I often chuckle when I read online how Western liberals see modern Russia as a would-be superpower and dangerous threat to the free world. Russia is a paper tiger, a washed-up veteran who pretends that she is able to stride the world like she did during the Cold War. The regime's interventions abroad are nothing more than theatrics, designed to fool both the West and its citizens into believing that it is a powerful nation that deserves a seat at the table of the great powers. All they do is disguise a nation in decay. Yes, things are not as bad as they were in the nineties. Most of the academics have returned to Akademgorodok, and the nearby city of Novosibirsk has become the center of Russia's technological sector. But this success is small-scale at best. Outside of the major cities, the Russian people are mired in poverty. Countless towns and villages have had their way of life annihilated, and are increasingly populated only by downtrodden retirees. The fossil fuels sector has been a lifeline for Russia, but it is an unstable one at best.
The past few years have seen this economic crisis intensify. The regime blames Western sanctions. But in truth, it is due to its own policies that growth has stagnated. Instead of investing into healthcare, education, infrastructure, or industrial development, it has continued a policy of austerity, not helped by the fact that it is beholden to the interests of oligarchs who have no desire to invest in the common good. Most Westerners would be shocked to hear that the Russian government has stored up the equivalent of more than one hundred and fifty billion dollars in its sovereign wealth fund, that it has maintained a budget surplus for years, and yet has refused to spend all but the barest minimum on social services or development, even this year of all years.
Many in the West believe that Russia is a nation devoted to the ideology of national conservativism, and desires to spread it across the world. This is another falsehood. There is no ideology that drives the Russian state. Only self-interest, cynicism, and corruption. Most people here have resigned themselves to this reality, and in this fact we are not dissimilar from many in the West. My fear is that this is the fate that awaits all of humanity, as we, nation-by-nation, people-by-people, march into the abyss, waiting for climate change to end our miserable existence.
Can I do anything to stop this? That is a question I ask myself every day, when I walk in the forests surrounding Akademgorodok. I simply have no idea. I am nothing but a college professor, an intellectual isolated from the common people. The regime is desperate to hold on to its power, and will not hesitate to destroy anyone who it believes to pose a threat to its existence. I do not think I am political material, not in this climate. To make a change in Russia's government would require a great upheaval.
And yet, I wonder if a spark of hope still lies dormant. This year has been uncharacteristically filled with protests. Not just in Belarus, but inside Russia itself, in the Far East. This current economic situation cannot last for long. At some point, something must break. Perhaps the only thing I can do now is wait until an opportunity presents itself.
December 11, 2020
I never thought I would be the type of man to write a journal. But this year has been difficult, and I feel like I will go insane if I cannot put down my thoughts.
My name is Emil Ilyich Shabayev. I was born on January 31st, 1971, in the city of Akademgorodok on the outskirts of Novosibirsk. My father was a theater director seeking intellectual freedom. My mother was a geneticist at the Novosibirsk Institute of Cytology and Genetics, best known for assisting the renowned Soviet scientist Dmitry Belyayev in his successful domestication of the silver fox. My childhood was a surprisingly happy one, all things considered. Akademgorodok was shielded from the stagnation of the Brezhnev era, and the prestige of its academic community meant that my family had access to luxuries most Soviet citizens could only find on the black market. In addition, the authorities turned a blind eye to ideological currents that would not be tolerated in the rest of the Union, making Akademgorodok a haven for dissident artists and thinkers. My parents could not decide if I was to be an artist or a scientist, so I decided to take a third route. I was always fascinated with both the study of society and with politics, so I resolved to become a sociologist. While I was attending secondary school, I dreamed that I could use my future expertise to resolve the pressing issues the Union faced, and to chart a new course for socialism.
The fall of the Soviet Union completely derailed my plans. Realizing that the next decade would be disastrous for Russia's academia, I, like many others of my age, fled to the West. I managed to enroll at King's College of London, and moved to the United Kingdom, embarking on a journey into a vast, uncertain world. I studied well, acquired a bachelor's degree, then transferred to Oxford for my PhD program. Afterwards, I settled into a position as a social researcher, got married, and found a home.
I should have been happy there. After all, I was living in the developed West, with a decent-paying and stable job that I was passionate about. I had a wife and a comfortable existence. I was supposed to be a beneficiary of the End of History.
And yet, I was miserable. The culture in the United Kingdom felt alien and off-putting. Everyone there seemed more and more dejected as the years went by, for reasons they could not understand. My research focused on the plight of impoverished communities in Britain. For years I visited decaying industrial towns in the Midlands, shuttered coal mines in Wales, and second-rate immigrant communities in London. The people there completely lacked the optimism that my contemporaries shared in the future. For them, their life prospects had peaked during the Cold War, and the only future they saw was an endless grind. But it was not just Britain that was subject to this malaise. I kept up with world events, witnessed the collapse of the economies of the former Eastern Bloc, the Yugoslav Wars, the Gulf War, terrorist attacks and American interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan. The world, far from heading for a bright, liberal future, was instead mired in endless conflict, this time bereft of any ideology. However, most people in the West did not pay attention to the suffering at home. It was as if they had blocked it out of their vision, and I was the only one who possessed sight.
In time, this cloud of understanding that hung over me became too much for me to bear. I started drinking, my marital relationship deteriorated and, in 2006, I got a divorce. Finally, in 2008, I could stand it no more, and decided to return to Russia after finding out that Putin had stepped aside as President. I thought that this change in Russian politics would open an opportunity for me to make a mark on my native land, an opportunity that I lacked in the West. I was hired as a professor at Novosibirsk State University and joined a local institute for policy as an associate. Unfortunately, my hopes were once again dashed only a few years later, but I am sure that anyone who ends up reading this knows what events I am referring to.
I often chuckle when I read online how Western liberals see modern Russia as a would-be superpower and dangerous threat to the free world. Russia is a paper tiger, a washed-up veteran who pretends that she is able to stride the world like she did during the Cold War. The regime's interventions abroad are nothing more than theatrics, designed to fool both the West and its citizens into believing that it is a powerful nation that deserves a seat at the table of the great powers. All they do is disguise a nation in decay. Yes, things are not as bad as they were in the nineties. Most of the academics have returned to Akademgorodok, and the nearby city of Novosibirsk has become the center of Russia's technological sector. But this success is small-scale at best. Outside of the major cities, the Russian people are mired in poverty. Countless towns and villages have had their way of life annihilated, and are increasingly populated only by downtrodden retirees. The fossil fuels sector has been a lifeline for Russia, but it is an unstable one at best.
The past few years have seen this economic crisis intensify. The regime blames Western sanctions. But in truth, it is due to its own policies that growth has stagnated. Instead of investing into healthcare, education, infrastructure, or industrial development, it has continued a policy of austerity, not helped by the fact that it is beholden to the interests of oligarchs who have no desire to invest in the common good. Most Westerners would be shocked to hear that the Russian government has stored up the equivalent of more than one hundred and fifty billion dollars in its sovereign wealth fund, that it has maintained a budget surplus for years, and yet has refused to spend all but the barest minimum on social services or development, even this year of all years.
Many in the West believe that Russia is a nation devoted to the ideology of national conservativism, and desires to spread it across the world. This is another falsehood. There is no ideology that drives the Russian state. Only self-interest, cynicism, and corruption. Most people here have resigned themselves to this reality, and in this fact we are not dissimilar from many in the West. My fear is that this is the fate that awaits all of humanity, as we, nation-by-nation, people-by-people, march into the abyss, waiting for climate change to end our miserable existence.
Can I do anything to stop this? That is a question I ask myself every day, when I walk in the forests surrounding Akademgorodok. I simply have no idea. I am nothing but a college professor, an intellectual isolated from the common people. The regime is desperate to hold on to its power, and will not hesitate to destroy anyone who it believes to pose a threat to its existence. I do not think I am political material, not in this climate. To make a change in Russia's government would require a great upheaval.
And yet, I wonder if a spark of hope still lies dormant. This year has been uncharacteristically filled with protests. Not just in Belarus, but inside Russia itself, in the Far East. This current economic situation cannot last for long. At some point, something must break. Perhaps the only thing I can do now is wait until an opportunity presents itself.
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Chapter 1.3
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
February 7, 2021
Akademgorodok, Novosibirsk
The lecture hall was only half-full when Dr. Shabayev entered. Normally he would have had a stern talk with any latecomers, but external circumstances were such that he was willing to grant them the benefit of the doubt. He put his coat aside, gave the students a few minutes for any stragglers to arrive, then began to speak.
"Welcome to Introduction to Principles of Sociology. My name is Dr. Emil Ilyich Shabayev, and normally I would give a short introduction to my work, but doubtless most of you have already read the syllabus, so I will not be bothering you with that. Before I explain the expectations of this course, I would like to talk about the field of sociology and what being a sociologist means. Before I continue, I want to ask what you think sociology is. Are there any brave souls willing to volunteer?"
A hand shot up.
"You may speak."
"Isn't sociology part of the humanities? Like philosophy or history?," asked a student.
"That," Dr. Shabayev replied, "is a common misconception that I will have to address. The subject of sociology may intersect with those fields, but it is ultimately a field of science. Sociologists may study societies instead of high-energy particles, but they are still scientists, and to succeed as a sociologist, you must have a strong grasp on using the scientific method to solve problems. Unlike historians or philosophers, sociologists devise hypotheses, gather evidence to support them, and even conduct experiments when required. Granted, many of the problems that sociologists examine intersect with more contentious and subjective fields such as politics, but a measure of objectivity remains."
Dr. Shabayev scanned the room. Many of the students seemed intrigued at his description. Using science to understand politics, or history, or daily life? That certainly didn't fit many of the negative stereotypes often directed at sociology.
"Now then, for the expectations of this class..."
He continued with his descriptions of academic minutia for half an hour more.
"That about concludes it. To reward you for sitting through the least interesting portion of my lecture, I have reserved an example of some of the problems that sociologists examine."
He advanced the slide on his projector. It showed a picture of Red Square in Moscow and a map of the former Soviet Union, along with some polling data.
"According to the Levada Center, two-thirds of the Russian population feels that life was better under the Soviet Union than in modern times. This trend has only increased in recent years. Now, how could a sociologist try to explain this?"
There was a pause.
"Remember, this has nothing to do with your political beliefs. You are scientists, and you must be objective. Can anyone suggest explanations for why a supermajority of the Russian public would regret the collapse of the Soviet Union."
Multiple answers came in.
"National prestige?"
"Feeling of pride and purpose?"
"Those are possibilities," replied Dr. Shabayev. "Any other suggestions?"
"Economic collapse?"
"Uncertainty?"
"Shitty hospitals?"
Dr. Shabayev chuckled at the last one. "I'm sure we already have plenty of experience with that!," he said. The rest of the class was not so amused.
"I suppose that is a sensitive topic, given the circumstances. Regardless, our time is up. Class is officially dismissed."
The students left. All except one, who approached him.
"Dr Shabayev, I have a question. How much do you follow world politics?"
"I have a... passing interest, but I'd rather not bore you with my opinions."
"Well, I was reading about what's going on in China right now. It's not something most of the media is talking about," replied the student.
"Oh?"
"There's something going on with their economy. I heard a large manufacturer just defaulted. There's been quite a few of those recently."
Well, this was interesting.
Akademgorodok, Novosibirsk
The lecture hall was only half-full when Dr. Shabayev entered. Normally he would have had a stern talk with any latecomers, but external circumstances were such that he was willing to grant them the benefit of the doubt. He put his coat aside, gave the students a few minutes for any stragglers to arrive, then began to speak.
"Welcome to Introduction to Principles of Sociology. My name is Dr. Emil Ilyich Shabayev, and normally I would give a short introduction to my work, but doubtless most of you have already read the syllabus, so I will not be bothering you with that. Before I explain the expectations of this course, I would like to talk about the field of sociology and what being a sociologist means. Before I continue, I want to ask what you think sociology is. Are there any brave souls willing to volunteer?"
A hand shot up.
"You may speak."
"Isn't sociology part of the humanities? Like philosophy or history?," asked a student.
"That," Dr. Shabayev replied, "is a common misconception that I will have to address. The subject of sociology may intersect with those fields, but it is ultimately a field of science. Sociologists may study societies instead of high-energy particles, but they are still scientists, and to succeed as a sociologist, you must have a strong grasp on using the scientific method to solve problems. Unlike historians or philosophers, sociologists devise hypotheses, gather evidence to support them, and even conduct experiments when required. Granted, many of the problems that sociologists examine intersect with more contentious and subjective fields such as politics, but a measure of objectivity remains."
Dr. Shabayev scanned the room. Many of the students seemed intrigued at his description. Using science to understand politics, or history, or daily life? That certainly didn't fit many of the negative stereotypes often directed at sociology.
"Now then, for the expectations of this class..."
He continued with his descriptions of academic minutia for half an hour more.
"That about concludes it. To reward you for sitting through the least interesting portion of my lecture, I have reserved an example of some of the problems that sociologists examine."
He advanced the slide on his projector. It showed a picture of Red Square in Moscow and a map of the former Soviet Union, along with some polling data.
"According to the Levada Center, two-thirds of the Russian population feels that life was better under the Soviet Union than in modern times. This trend has only increased in recent years. Now, how could a sociologist try to explain this?"
There was a pause.
"Remember, this has nothing to do with your political beliefs. You are scientists, and you must be objective. Can anyone suggest explanations for why a supermajority of the Russian public would regret the collapse of the Soviet Union."
Multiple answers came in.
"National prestige?"
"Feeling of pride and purpose?"
"Those are possibilities," replied Dr. Shabayev. "Any other suggestions?"
"Economic collapse?"
"Uncertainty?"
"Shitty hospitals?"
Dr. Shabayev chuckled at the last one. "I'm sure we already have plenty of experience with that!," he said. The rest of the class was not so amused.
"I suppose that is a sensitive topic, given the circumstances. Regardless, our time is up. Class is officially dismissed."
The students left. All except one, who approached him.
"Dr Shabayev, I have a question. How much do you follow world politics?"
"I have a... passing interest, but I'd rather not bore you with my opinions."
"Well, I was reading about what's going on in China right now. It's not something most of the media is talking about," replied the student.
"Oh?"
"There's something going on with their economy. I heard a large manufacturer just defaulted. There's been quite a few of those recently."
Well, this was interesting.
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Chapter 2.1 - The Dragon Falters
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Excerpt from The Unbowed Dragon: A Retrospective on Antebellum China, 1976-2035
The history of the People's Republic of China following the death of Chairman Mao was simultaneously one of gradual reform and vast transformation. Mao's Cultural Revolution had targeted all portions of the middle and upper classes, from academics and low-level bureaucrats to high-ranking officials and his direct competitors in the Chinese Communist Party. The experience had been traumatizing enough for the Party to turn its back on working-class populism. Mao's successor, Deng Xiaoping, had come to power promising a focus on development rather than ideological correctness, and following his ascension he began to implement economic reforms that he felt would place China in a far stronger position on the world stage. Beginning with the creation of special economic zones in certain coastal cities such as Shanghai and Shenzhen, Deng and his successors gradually opened China's economy to the free market and foreign investment, while still emphasizing the central role of the state in China's development. Rather than fighting capitalism, the new role of the Chinese state would be to manage it and use it to transform the nation. It would accomplish this by investing heavily into infrastructure and creating a network of state investment banks that would fund the creation of capital, in order to overcome the poor environment for growth that other third-world countries faced.
By the eighties, these reforms would begin to bear fruit, as the Chinese economy would lurch from its Mao-era slumber. However, China's growth would not truly take off until its ascension to the World Trade Organization in 1997 as a full member, which removed most barriers to investment from the outside world. This development would result in a flood of foreign capital into China, as corporations in the developed world had just gained access to a vast source of cheap labor and a favorable environment for investment. In the period between 1997 and 2007, China's economy experienced double-digit growth, and by 2008, it had overtaken Japan as the second largest economy in the world. The effects of this were profound. Hundreds of millions of Chinese migrated to urban areas, seeking employment as factory workers. China quickly became the world's manufactory, with Western corporations outsourcing most of their manufacturing to the rapidly-developing nation, a phenomenon that would devastate the manufacturing sector in the developed world, creating economies heavily and unnaturally lopsided towards consumption and the service sector.
The years of easy growth would come to an end with the 2008 financial crisis and the Great Recession that followed it. In order to mitigate its effects, the Chinese government mandated vast discretionary spending, their demand for growth insatiable. At first, this policy would be a success, as China continued its record growth while the West, having pursued austerity, suffered stagnation. However, in the years following the Great Recession, the West's anemic recovery forced the Chinese government to continue injecting money into the economy. Anticipating the growth of a middle class that desired Western-style housing, China's investment banks began to heavily invest in housing, overseeing the construction of residential projects by private developers. The period from 2008 to 2020 would see a rapid inflation in real estate prices. However, this policy would not be as successful as developers hoped, for the supply of new housing quickly outstripped demand, resulting in a significant portion of the housing constructed in this period being unoccupied. Tales abound of entire cities filled with empty, decaying apartments, of wasteful palaces built in impoverished rural provinces that could never provide the customers the developers wanted.
As millions of Chinese entered the middle class, they found that finding the credit to purchase housing would be a challenge, as China's banking system was intended to prop up large corporations and promote investment, and not service ordinary customers. Instead, they were forced to turn to an entirely different set of financial services: wealth management products, trust companies, and other components in what would be termed the Chinese "shadow banking sector." These lending activities were often conducted secretly and off the balances, making the shadow banking sector far more opaque and difficult to regulate than China's traditional banking system. Still, the authorities tolerated it due to their focus on economic growth above all else. Over time, the shadow banks and their investments in the real estate market would lead to the latter becoming a linchpin in the entire Chinese financial system. However, by the end of the new tens, the negative consequences of this approach became apparent. As China was confronted with the challenge of transitioning its economy beyond low-skill manufacturing, it faced a slowdown of growth as much of the low-hanging opportunities for development had been taken. In addition, the reckless spending by businessmen and consumers alike had caused China's total debt to balloon to more than three hundred percent of its GDP, and much of the loans that undergirded it were high-risk or unable to be paid off. The traditional banks and large state firms were guaranteed support from the central government, but households and smaller businesses were left out in the open.
By 2019, there were visible warning signs as corporate defaults noticeably increased. A further hint of the looming threat was revealed when Baoshang Bank defaulted on its debt and declared bankruptcy in early 2020. The government desired to take action against the shadow banking sector, and in another timeline, it likely would have had a few years to perform a cleanup. Unfortunately, their plans would be derailed by the start of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic around the beginning of 2020. This fresh crisis would place great strain on the Chinese economy, forcing the government to approve additional stimulus and ballooning China's national debt even further. However, the most devastating impact of the pandemic would not be immediately apparent, as consumers and small businesses were placed under great duress. As these groups were the primary customers of the shadow banking system, the number of underperforming loans would increase significantly, accelerating the system closer to crisis. This would also place real estate investors in an increasingly precarious position. However, some still held out hope that the central government would come to the rescue.
They could expected that a single investigation would cause the entire rotting structure to come crashing down.
The history of the People's Republic of China following the death of Chairman Mao was simultaneously one of gradual reform and vast transformation. Mao's Cultural Revolution had targeted all portions of the middle and upper classes, from academics and low-level bureaucrats to high-ranking officials and his direct competitors in the Chinese Communist Party. The experience had been traumatizing enough for the Party to turn its back on working-class populism. Mao's successor, Deng Xiaoping, had come to power promising a focus on development rather than ideological correctness, and following his ascension he began to implement economic reforms that he felt would place China in a far stronger position on the world stage. Beginning with the creation of special economic zones in certain coastal cities such as Shanghai and Shenzhen, Deng and his successors gradually opened China's economy to the free market and foreign investment, while still emphasizing the central role of the state in China's development. Rather than fighting capitalism, the new role of the Chinese state would be to manage it and use it to transform the nation. It would accomplish this by investing heavily into infrastructure and creating a network of state investment banks that would fund the creation of capital, in order to overcome the poor environment for growth that other third-world countries faced.
By the eighties, these reforms would begin to bear fruit, as the Chinese economy would lurch from its Mao-era slumber. However, China's growth would not truly take off until its ascension to the World Trade Organization in 1997 as a full member, which removed most barriers to investment from the outside world. This development would result in a flood of foreign capital into China, as corporations in the developed world had just gained access to a vast source of cheap labor and a favorable environment for investment. In the period between 1997 and 2007, China's economy experienced double-digit growth, and by 2008, it had overtaken Japan as the second largest economy in the world. The effects of this were profound. Hundreds of millions of Chinese migrated to urban areas, seeking employment as factory workers. China quickly became the world's manufactory, with Western corporations outsourcing most of their manufacturing to the rapidly-developing nation, a phenomenon that would devastate the manufacturing sector in the developed world, creating economies heavily and unnaturally lopsided towards consumption and the service sector.
The years of easy growth would come to an end with the 2008 financial crisis and the Great Recession that followed it. In order to mitigate its effects, the Chinese government mandated vast discretionary spending, their demand for growth insatiable. At first, this policy would be a success, as China continued its record growth while the West, having pursued austerity, suffered stagnation. However, in the years following the Great Recession, the West's anemic recovery forced the Chinese government to continue injecting money into the economy. Anticipating the growth of a middle class that desired Western-style housing, China's investment banks began to heavily invest in housing, overseeing the construction of residential projects by private developers. The period from 2008 to 2020 would see a rapid inflation in real estate prices. However, this policy would not be as successful as developers hoped, for the supply of new housing quickly outstripped demand, resulting in a significant portion of the housing constructed in this period being unoccupied. Tales abound of entire cities filled with empty, decaying apartments, of wasteful palaces built in impoverished rural provinces that could never provide the customers the developers wanted.
As millions of Chinese entered the middle class, they found that finding the credit to purchase housing would be a challenge, as China's banking system was intended to prop up large corporations and promote investment, and not service ordinary customers. Instead, they were forced to turn to an entirely different set of financial services: wealth management products, trust companies, and other components in what would be termed the Chinese "shadow banking sector." These lending activities were often conducted secretly and off the balances, making the shadow banking sector far more opaque and difficult to regulate than China's traditional banking system. Still, the authorities tolerated it due to their focus on economic growth above all else. Over time, the shadow banks and their investments in the real estate market would lead to the latter becoming a linchpin in the entire Chinese financial system. However, by the end of the new tens, the negative consequences of this approach became apparent. As China was confronted with the challenge of transitioning its economy beyond low-skill manufacturing, it faced a slowdown of growth as much of the low-hanging opportunities for development had been taken. In addition, the reckless spending by businessmen and consumers alike had caused China's total debt to balloon to more than three hundred percent of its GDP, and much of the loans that undergirded it were high-risk or unable to be paid off. The traditional banks and large state firms were guaranteed support from the central government, but households and smaller businesses were left out in the open.
By 2019, there were visible warning signs as corporate defaults noticeably increased. A further hint of the looming threat was revealed when Baoshang Bank defaulted on its debt and declared bankruptcy in early 2020. The government desired to take action against the shadow banking sector, and in another timeline, it likely would have had a few years to perform a cleanup. Unfortunately, their plans would be derailed by the start of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic around the beginning of 2020. This fresh crisis would place great strain on the Chinese economy, forcing the government to approve additional stimulus and ballooning China's national debt even further. However, the most devastating impact of the pandemic would not be immediately apparent, as consumers and small businesses were placed under great duress. As these groups were the primary customers of the shadow banking system, the number of underperforming loans would increase significantly, accelerating the system closer to crisis. This would also place real estate investors in an increasingly precarious position. However, some still held out hope that the central government would come to the rescue.
They could expected that a single investigation would cause the entire rotting structure to come crashing down.
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Chapter 2.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
February 10, 2021
Haidan District, Beijing
The sky of Beijing was the color of an old-fashioned television tuned to a dead channel. Thick clouds of smog had appeared at dawn, and they hung over the city with no end in sight. Inspector Jie struggled with his mask before exiting the cab. While the rest of the world had been forcibly introduced to mask-wearing in the past year, Beijing's inhabitants had been wearing them for decades. Back when the inspector was a student, the city would be covered with smog for months on end. Recently, the authorities had managed to cut air pollution to the point where "only" around a hundred days of hazardous weather had passed last winter.
He found himself in a small plaza in front of a sleek amalgamate of concrete and glass. The building consisted of two "legs" that were connected by an overhang at its top. Beneath it, a one-story wall stood, the words "Ministry of Finance of the People's Republic of China" prominently featured on it. In most countries, the Ministry of Finance was usually one of the most important divisions of the executive branch of government, but in China, it was nothing but an agency of bean-counters who produced inflated growth statistics. Much of the actual power to set economic policy resided in state development commissions and the Central Bank, a quirk of China's unique system. Still, a state bureaucrat was a state bureaucrat, and today, the inspector had come for a discreet meeting with one.
As Jie entered the building, his nervousness about this meeting came to mind. He knew that his contact was a disgraced official. According to his preliminary research, the Director he was meeting with had served under the Bo Xilai administration in Chongqing, and following his superior's fall from grace, had been "promoted" to a position where he couldn't cause any trouble. Ascending the elevator, the inspector found himself in the middle of a row of offices, his only guide being a slip of paper, a room number that his contact gave him in their phone call written on it. It took him twenty minutes to find his way to the room indicated, though he was fortunate that there was no one around to laugh at his confusion. The office was labelled with a placard, assigning it to a "Lin Zhiming." He knocked, and heard an invitation to enter in response.
The interior of the office was sparse and undecorated - abnormally so. It appeared that its occupant had no interest in Feng Shui. Behind a raised desk, Inspector Jie's contact sat. Director Lin was young for one of his position, appearing to be only a few years older than fifty. He was tall, dark-haired, and thin, his face tight and crisp. Inspector Jie felt his eyes pass him over, a sharp and calculating look. Something about him made the inspector shudder. The inspector's host motioned for him to take a seat in front of the desk, and he obliged.
"Inspector Jie," Director Lin began, pronouncing the words slowly and precisely. "I welcome you to the Ministry of Finance. I can only hope that the weather was not too troublesome."
"It was... bearable," replied the inspector. They both knew it was a lie, but this part of the conversation was merely a formality.
"We do not usually get visits from the China Banking and Insurance Regulatory Commission, especially not from inspectors of the Anti-Illegal Financial Activities Bureau. But I hear that you have come with quite an unusual request," said Director Lin.
"Yes, my investigation has reached an impasse, and I humbly request that you could use your connections to aid it."
Inspector Jie pulled a few sheets of paper from his briefcase and laid them out on the desk. He explained that he had been appointed to investigate a series of suspicious defaults, including those of a housing developer and garment manufacturer, that had occurred in the last two months. Some of his colleagues worried that there was something suspicious in the way these enterprises had been financed, and when he looked into it, he found that they had received credit from a set of trust companies with ties to the Ping'an Group, a vast conglomerate whose portfolio included insurance and traditional banking, but also had, as Inspector Jie suspected, a stake in off-balance lending. He had attempted for weeks to acquire financial data from the Group that could further his investigation, but doing so was difficult due to the state protection they received, and he hoped that Director Lin could move some levers in the party to get him access.
Director Lin spent a minute in thought before replying.
"Unfortunately, I may not be able to help you with in this endeavor. I do have connections in Shenzhen, but not those within the Party that would grant me leverage to convince them to part with Ping'an's records. In fact, my relationship with the rest of the Party is... somewhat strained to put it mildly."
"Director Lin, my apologies for bothering you," replied Inspector Jie. Disappointed, he turned to leave, but before he could, he felt the Director slip him a sheet of paper.
"Bird's Market. 3:00 in the afternoon," it read.
This meeting had become far more interesting.
The street market wasn't that crowded when Inspector Jie approached it. Perhaps some of the new reported infections had scared shoppers away. Regardless, he found the Director huddled at a stall containing freshly butchered duck. The Director saw his approach, slipped him another sheet of paper, then walked away, acting as if they had never met. The paper contained a phone number and a note.
"A former detective from my years in Chongqing, an old contact who currently lives in Shenzhen. He can help you, off the radar."
After work, Inspector Jie returned home and called the number. As expected, the detective responded to his call, and made a proposal that Jie was shocked by: he pledged to accompany Jie to Ping'an's headquarters in Shenzhen and retrieve the data from their digital storage themselves. Breaking into the private property of a major corporation appeared to be a foolhardy move, and yet, the more the inspector considered it, the more he felt that he had no other option. That evening, he once again called the detective, agreeing to the offer.
The inspector could scarcely believe what he had just done. But whatever happened, he would see it through to the end.
Haidan District, Beijing
The sky of Beijing was the color of an old-fashioned television tuned to a dead channel. Thick clouds of smog had appeared at dawn, and they hung over the city with no end in sight. Inspector Jie struggled with his mask before exiting the cab. While the rest of the world had been forcibly introduced to mask-wearing in the past year, Beijing's inhabitants had been wearing them for decades. Back when the inspector was a student, the city would be covered with smog for months on end. Recently, the authorities had managed to cut air pollution to the point where "only" around a hundred days of hazardous weather had passed last winter.
He found himself in a small plaza in front of a sleek amalgamate of concrete and glass. The building consisted of two "legs" that were connected by an overhang at its top. Beneath it, a one-story wall stood, the words "Ministry of Finance of the People's Republic of China" prominently featured on it. In most countries, the Ministry of Finance was usually one of the most important divisions of the executive branch of government, but in China, it was nothing but an agency of bean-counters who produced inflated growth statistics. Much of the actual power to set economic policy resided in state development commissions and the Central Bank, a quirk of China's unique system. Still, a state bureaucrat was a state bureaucrat, and today, the inspector had come for a discreet meeting with one.
As Jie entered the building, his nervousness about this meeting came to mind. He knew that his contact was a disgraced official. According to his preliminary research, the Director he was meeting with had served under the Bo Xilai administration in Chongqing, and following his superior's fall from grace, had been "promoted" to a position where he couldn't cause any trouble. Ascending the elevator, the inspector found himself in the middle of a row of offices, his only guide being a slip of paper, a room number that his contact gave him in their phone call written on it. It took him twenty minutes to find his way to the room indicated, though he was fortunate that there was no one around to laugh at his confusion. The office was labelled with a placard, assigning it to a "Lin Zhiming." He knocked, and heard an invitation to enter in response.
The interior of the office was sparse and undecorated - abnormally so. It appeared that its occupant had no interest in Feng Shui. Behind a raised desk, Inspector Jie's contact sat. Director Lin was young for one of his position, appearing to be only a few years older than fifty. He was tall, dark-haired, and thin, his face tight and crisp. Inspector Jie felt his eyes pass him over, a sharp and calculating look. Something about him made the inspector shudder. The inspector's host motioned for him to take a seat in front of the desk, and he obliged.
"Inspector Jie," Director Lin began, pronouncing the words slowly and precisely. "I welcome you to the Ministry of Finance. I can only hope that the weather was not too troublesome."
"It was... bearable," replied the inspector. They both knew it was a lie, but this part of the conversation was merely a formality.
"We do not usually get visits from the China Banking and Insurance Regulatory Commission, especially not from inspectors of the Anti-Illegal Financial Activities Bureau. But I hear that you have come with quite an unusual request," said Director Lin.
"Yes, my investigation has reached an impasse, and I humbly request that you could use your connections to aid it."
Inspector Jie pulled a few sheets of paper from his briefcase and laid them out on the desk. He explained that he had been appointed to investigate a series of suspicious defaults, including those of a housing developer and garment manufacturer, that had occurred in the last two months. Some of his colleagues worried that there was something suspicious in the way these enterprises had been financed, and when he looked into it, he found that they had received credit from a set of trust companies with ties to the Ping'an Group, a vast conglomerate whose portfolio included insurance and traditional banking, but also had, as Inspector Jie suspected, a stake in off-balance lending. He had attempted for weeks to acquire financial data from the Group that could further his investigation, but doing so was difficult due to the state protection they received, and he hoped that Director Lin could move some levers in the party to get him access.
Director Lin spent a minute in thought before replying.
"Unfortunately, I may not be able to help you with in this endeavor. I do have connections in Shenzhen, but not those within the Party that would grant me leverage to convince them to part with Ping'an's records. In fact, my relationship with the rest of the Party is... somewhat strained to put it mildly."
"Director Lin, my apologies for bothering you," replied Inspector Jie. Disappointed, he turned to leave, but before he could, he felt the Director slip him a sheet of paper.
"Bird's Market. 3:00 in the afternoon," it read.
This meeting had become far more interesting.
The street market wasn't that crowded when Inspector Jie approached it. Perhaps some of the new reported infections had scared shoppers away. Regardless, he found the Director huddled at a stall containing freshly butchered duck. The Director saw his approach, slipped him another sheet of paper, then walked away, acting as if they had never met. The paper contained a phone number and a note.
"A former detective from my years in Chongqing, an old contact who currently lives in Shenzhen. He can help you, off the radar."
After work, Inspector Jie returned home and called the number. As expected, the detective responded to his call, and made a proposal that Jie was shocked by: he pledged to accompany Jie to Ping'an's headquarters in Shenzhen and retrieve the data from their digital storage themselves. Breaking into the private property of a major corporation appeared to be a foolhardy move, and yet, the more the inspector considered it, the more he felt that he had no other option. That evening, he once again called the detective, agreeing to the offer.
The inspector could scarcely believe what he had just done. But whatever happened, he would see it through to the end.
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Chapter 2.3
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
February 14, 2021
Futian District, Shenzhen
The sky was clear above the city of Shenzhen as the time approached noon, a welcome change of weather from Beijing. The streets were far less active than usual, with the only pedestrians being sightseers enjoying a day out. As evidenced by the lanterns that still had not been taken down, the Chinese New Year had come only two days prior, and much of China's workforce was still enjoying a vacation.
It would be the perfect time for a break-in.
Inspector Jie and his partner, former Detective Zhang, walked down the streets of Shenzhen's urban heart. Above them towered vast skyscrapers, the skyline dominated by glass and steel. This city, the heart of China's burgeoning electronics industry, was the face of the nation's rapid transformation. They made it to the tallest skyscraper in the city, the Ping'an International Finance Center. The two exchanged glances before moving to the entrance. The place was locked, as expected, but Detective Zhang had managed to acquire a key.
"I take it you've bribed more than a few of the menial employees," asked Inspector Jie.
"Indeed," replied Detective Zhang. "Beneath the shiny exterior, Shenzhen hides a grimy underbelly, not too different from Beijing. Many of these laborers have been in economic distress recently, and thus proved more amenable to financial persuasion."
The detective unlocked the lock, allowing the duo to enter. The expansive ground floor was utterly deserted, most of the lights off, giving the place an eerie feeling. Inspector Jie shook it off as he searched for the elevator, which was fortunately still functional. They had to change elevators twice before reaching their destination, more than a hundred stories above ground. The floor they found themselves on was clean, and the walls were lined with marble. Inspector Jie flinched.
"Are you sure we won't appear on camera?"
"I bribed the security chief too," answered Detective Zhang. The inspector scoffed.
"Well, this makes our mission somewhat hypocritical, doesn't it?"
"You tell me."
The pair walked to the entrance of an office section. Detective Zhang motioned his partner to stop.
"Inspector, I'll need your help with this next segment. I have the key to the office, two thumb drives, and a program on my phone that lets me crack the passwords on any computer here that runs Windows 10. I'll get in, find the offices of some of the higher-ups, and try to download any important files onto the drives. However, I don't know much about finance, so I'll need you to help me find the documents you need. This will probably take at least an hour, maybe even two. Be very careful with how much noise you make. The office might be bugged."
The inspector nodded. His partner nodded, then unlocked the door to the office. The two entered, than closed the door behind them. The next one and a half hour was one of the most nerve-wracking in Inspector Jie's entire career. The office was empty, and everything appeared to be in order, but the inspector couldn't help but look over his shoulder every few seconds, fearful that someone would enter and apprehend the two. Slowly, without making any noise that could be picked up, the pair searched for the offices of the higher-ups, gained access to their computers, and searched through them, downloading the files that the inspector specified. Once the office had been scoured, the two left the way they had came.
For the rest of his life, Inspector Jie would wonder how he had gotten away with this. But that was the future. Now, he had his work cut out for him.
Futian District, Shenzhen
The sky was clear above the city of Shenzhen as the time approached noon, a welcome change of weather from Beijing. The streets were far less active than usual, with the only pedestrians being sightseers enjoying a day out. As evidenced by the lanterns that still had not been taken down, the Chinese New Year had come only two days prior, and much of China's workforce was still enjoying a vacation.
It would be the perfect time for a break-in.
Inspector Jie and his partner, former Detective Zhang, walked down the streets of Shenzhen's urban heart. Above them towered vast skyscrapers, the skyline dominated by glass and steel. This city, the heart of China's burgeoning electronics industry, was the face of the nation's rapid transformation. They made it to the tallest skyscraper in the city, the Ping'an International Finance Center. The two exchanged glances before moving to the entrance. The place was locked, as expected, but Detective Zhang had managed to acquire a key.
"I take it you've bribed more than a few of the menial employees," asked Inspector Jie.
"Indeed," replied Detective Zhang. "Beneath the shiny exterior, Shenzhen hides a grimy underbelly, not too different from Beijing. Many of these laborers have been in economic distress recently, and thus proved more amenable to financial persuasion."
The detective unlocked the lock, allowing the duo to enter. The expansive ground floor was utterly deserted, most of the lights off, giving the place an eerie feeling. Inspector Jie shook it off as he searched for the elevator, which was fortunately still functional. They had to change elevators twice before reaching their destination, more than a hundred stories above ground. The floor they found themselves on was clean, and the walls were lined with marble. Inspector Jie flinched.
"Are you sure we won't appear on camera?"
"I bribed the security chief too," answered Detective Zhang. The inspector scoffed.
"Well, this makes our mission somewhat hypocritical, doesn't it?"
"You tell me."
The pair walked to the entrance of an office section. Detective Zhang motioned his partner to stop.
"Inspector, I'll need your help with this next segment. I have the key to the office, two thumb drives, and a program on my phone that lets me crack the passwords on any computer here that runs Windows 10. I'll get in, find the offices of some of the higher-ups, and try to download any important files onto the drives. However, I don't know much about finance, so I'll need you to help me find the documents you need. This will probably take at least an hour, maybe even two. Be very careful with how much noise you make. The office might be bugged."
The inspector nodded. His partner nodded, then unlocked the door to the office. The two entered, than closed the door behind them. The next one and a half hour was one of the most nerve-wracking in Inspector Jie's entire career. The office was empty, and everything appeared to be in order, but the inspector couldn't help but look over his shoulder every few seconds, fearful that someone would enter and apprehend the two. Slowly, without making any noise that could be picked up, the pair searched for the offices of the higher-ups, gained access to their computers, and searched through them, downloading the files that the inspector specified. Once the office had been scoured, the two left the way they had came.
For the rest of his life, Inspector Jie would wonder how he had gotten away with this. But that was the future. Now, he had his work cut out for him.
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Chapter 2.4
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
March 3, 2021
Beijing
Inspector Jie tried to blink away the fatigue from his blood-stained eyes as he stared at the stack of paper in front of him. For the past few weeks, he and his assistants had meticulously poured through every file that Detective Zhang had retrieved from the Ping'an Group. It had been a grueling ordeal, but he had reached the end of his investigation, and what he had found horrified him.
The Ping'an data contained detailed records of shadow loans, off-balance transactions, and other kinds of activity that had fallen beneath the regulators' notice. This web of influence was built around investments in the real-estate market, but enveloped countless other enterprises, small businesses, or foreign investments. And it was built on a foundation of lies. The data showed numerous examples of fraudulent activity, from inflated balance sheets to Ponzi schemes designed to ensnare foolish investors. In addition, a significant portion of the loans recorded were completely unviable. The inspector had long suspected that this corruption was present in China's financial sector, but he could have never predicted its extent. From the data, he could corroborate signals that implicated many other trusts and banks beyond those recorded directly in it. If his findings ever were released, the entire economy would come crashing down. He had to consult with Director Lin.
Yuyuantan Park was bathed in light when Inspector Jie made his way to a bench off the main paths. Director Lin was already sitting there, inscrutable as ever. The two sat in silence for a moment or so, before the inspector recounted his findings.
"This evidence is quite... compelling. What do you plan to do with it, Inspector Jie?"
"I was thinking of presenting it to the Commission," answered the inspector.
"I think it would be better if you released it publically," replied the director.
Inspector Jie could not believe his ears.
"...Director Lin, with all due respect, doing so would cause immense chaos and-"
"I perfectly understand the risks, Inspector, but I have a few questions I would like to ask of you. First, if you sent this report to the Commission, and it moved up the hierarchy, even to the Paramount Leader himself, how do you think they would respond to this? Second, do you think that this information would not come out regardless? If what you say is true, the effects of this corruption will become unmistakable in due time. Who would you prefer to discover this? A hostile clique in the party? The Americans?"
Inspector Jie took pause at this, while Director Lin watched him. The latter continued.
"Our unique position is that we can release it on our terms."
"Director Lin, a question. You seem to be quite intent on making sure this comes out regardless of the consequences. That strikes me as somewhat... suspicious," Inspector Jie said.
"Do not think of me. My argument is that, if we do not release this, another group will. Something of this extent cannot be hidden forever, and it would be less painful if it is released now rather than later."
Inspector Jie saw his point. Considering the current political climate, he wasn't sure that the government, with many of its members connected to the enterprises implicated here, could take the measures necessary to resolve the problem in time, and if it continued, the crash that would occur when the truth finally came out would be devastating. Releasing the report now would cause a downturn, but potentially, a manageable one. Inspector Jie swallowed before his response.
"Very well."
For the first time since he knew him, the inspector saw Director Lin smile.
"Thank you, Inspector."
Inspector Jie sat up from the bench and returned home, while the director stayed, enjoying the scenery. The next day, a copy of the report would be posted publically on multiple forums across the Chinese internet, and additional copies would be sent to every minister and major investor in China. And the day after, it felt like the world had come crashing down.
After Inspector Jie had left the park, Director Lin pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he smoked, he lost himself in thought. They could not know what he had planned. None of them did. If they had, they would have thrown him in prison long ago. But that would only strengthen his resolve. His work had only just begun.
Beijing
Inspector Jie tried to blink away the fatigue from his blood-stained eyes as he stared at the stack of paper in front of him. For the past few weeks, he and his assistants had meticulously poured through every file that Detective Zhang had retrieved from the Ping'an Group. It had been a grueling ordeal, but he had reached the end of his investigation, and what he had found horrified him.
The Ping'an data contained detailed records of shadow loans, off-balance transactions, and other kinds of activity that had fallen beneath the regulators' notice. This web of influence was built around investments in the real-estate market, but enveloped countless other enterprises, small businesses, or foreign investments. And it was built on a foundation of lies. The data showed numerous examples of fraudulent activity, from inflated balance sheets to Ponzi schemes designed to ensnare foolish investors. In addition, a significant portion of the loans recorded were completely unviable. The inspector had long suspected that this corruption was present in China's financial sector, but he could have never predicted its extent. From the data, he could corroborate signals that implicated many other trusts and banks beyond those recorded directly in it. If his findings ever were released, the entire economy would come crashing down. He had to consult with Director Lin.
Yuyuantan Park was bathed in light when Inspector Jie made his way to a bench off the main paths. Director Lin was already sitting there, inscrutable as ever. The two sat in silence for a moment or so, before the inspector recounted his findings.
"This evidence is quite... compelling. What do you plan to do with it, Inspector Jie?"
"I was thinking of presenting it to the Commission," answered the inspector.
"I think it would be better if you released it publically," replied the director.
Inspector Jie could not believe his ears.
"...Director Lin, with all due respect, doing so would cause immense chaos and-"
"I perfectly understand the risks, Inspector, but I have a few questions I would like to ask of you. First, if you sent this report to the Commission, and it moved up the hierarchy, even to the Paramount Leader himself, how do you think they would respond to this? Second, do you think that this information would not come out regardless? If what you say is true, the effects of this corruption will become unmistakable in due time. Who would you prefer to discover this? A hostile clique in the party? The Americans?"
Inspector Jie took pause at this, while Director Lin watched him. The latter continued.
"Our unique position is that we can release it on our terms."
"Director Lin, a question. You seem to be quite intent on making sure this comes out regardless of the consequences. That strikes me as somewhat... suspicious," Inspector Jie said.
"Do not think of me. My argument is that, if we do not release this, another group will. Something of this extent cannot be hidden forever, and it would be less painful if it is released now rather than later."
Inspector Jie saw his point. Considering the current political climate, he wasn't sure that the government, with many of its members connected to the enterprises implicated here, could take the measures necessary to resolve the problem in time, and if it continued, the crash that would occur when the truth finally came out would be devastating. Releasing the report now would cause a downturn, but potentially, a manageable one. Inspector Jie swallowed before his response.
"Very well."
For the first time since he knew him, the inspector saw Director Lin smile.
"Thank you, Inspector."
Inspector Jie sat up from the bench and returned home, while the director stayed, enjoying the scenery. The next day, a copy of the report would be posted publically on multiple forums across the Chinese internet, and additional copies would be sent to every minister and major investor in China. And the day after, it felt like the world had come crashing down.
After Inspector Jie had left the park, Director Lin pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he smoked, he lost himself in thought. They could not know what he had planned. None of them did. If they had, they would have thrown him in prison long ago. But that would only strengthen his resolve. His work had only just begun.
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- Location
- Orlando, Florida
And there we have it, the actual PoD of this timeline - the Ping'an Crisis. Basically the modern Chinese version of TNO's Yasuda Crisis. Don't worry, the plot has just gotten started, I apologize if the first parts felt slow. The timeline should focus much more on standard political stuff now that I've established some of the characters.
Oh, and I was hoping to see some discussion. What do you think so far?
Oh, and I was hoping to see some discussion. What do you think so far?
- Location
- Illinois
Very interesting! I haven't gotten to the second chapter yet, but it's a good start. Honestly, I'm somewhat surprised that they don't consider the post-cold war a separate period. I definitely get why calling it the "End of History" is unpopular, but I would imagine the resulting power vacuum would be commented on.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Thanks for commenting! Yeah, it's mainly supposed to act as a hook, to demonstrate how historians a century into the future have a different historiography for our own. The collapse of the Soviet Union is considered part of the Great Undoing due to the amount of geopolitical and ethnic conflicts it would spark, its humanitarian impact, and due to how it would consolidate the hegemony of the increasingly pro-market Western world order, something that future historians do not consider desirable.
Chapter 3.1 - It Only Takes a Spark
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Excerpt from The Unbowed Dragon: A Retrospective on Antebellum China, 1976-2035
Many in the Chinese government had expected that something like the Ping'an Crisis would occur. The effects of the revelations were predictable. In the following days, real estate prices collapsed and investors, foreign and domestic, withdrew their funds. As many loans in the shadow banking sector were based on the real estate sector, this caused a vast number of shadow loans to go bad, causing many shadow lenders to go under. The effects of the crisis would immediately spiral out to every sector of the economy. The Chinese government would never allow the large enterprises that dominated China's economy to go bankrupt, and bailed them out like they did countless times before. However, the central government was soon faced with a different crisis: over the years, many local governments had racked up large amounts of debt, and that debt was now coming due, as lenders sought to recoup their losses. The government then made an impactful decision: it felt that it would be too great a cost to bail them out, allowing them to go bankrupt. As China's social services, at the time, were run by local governments, this caused tens of millions of Chinese to lose access to subsidized healthcare and education. The Chinese government felt that this was an unfortunate outcome, but one that it could bear.
While local government bankruptcies were the immediate consequences of the Ping'an Crisis, its true effects would only become apparent in the following months. While the state-backed corporations would survive, China's small businesses, which had already been subject to economic distress due to the previous year's pandemic, were pushed to the brink of collapse, as they had been dependent on the shadow banking system for credit. It is estimated that a third of small businesses in China went bankrupt in 2021, taking with them tens of millions of jobs in the urban regions. The shadow banking collapse would find another victim in the expanding class of homeowners who had turned to shadow banking to purchase their homes and now found themselves subject to foreclosures. Finally, the crisis would force China to cut back heavily on foreign investment. Around the beginning of the new tens, China had started the Belt and Road Initiative, a trillion-dollar series of infrastructure investments in Asia and Africa financed through loans. The ambitious initiative, while managing to complete multiple projects, had already begun to run into financial difficulties as the nations receiving investment found themselves unable to pay off the loans. The shadow banking crisis severely impacted China's foreign investment, rendering the Belt and Road Initiative financially untenable, and China was forced to write off all of its debt and cancel future projects. This, the earlier capital flight triggered by the revelations of the Ping'an investigation, and crises in the next few months, would hurt the already battered economies of the first and third world alike, triggering a long-awaited global recession. China would struggle to heal its bruised reputation as an investor and investee alike.
Despite the fact that tens of millions of its citizens had found themselves unemployed or homeless, and tens of millions of rural migrants found themselves even more destitute, the Chinese government remained confident that it could weather this crisis like it weathered the past two great financial crises that impacted Asia. It betted that its citizenry would retain their faith in their government and view the Ping'an Crisis as a temporary ordeal.
This would turn out to be a severe miscalculation.
Many in the Chinese government had expected that something like the Ping'an Crisis would occur. The effects of the revelations were predictable. In the following days, real estate prices collapsed and investors, foreign and domestic, withdrew their funds. As many loans in the shadow banking sector were based on the real estate sector, this caused a vast number of shadow loans to go bad, causing many shadow lenders to go under. The effects of the crisis would immediately spiral out to every sector of the economy. The Chinese government would never allow the large enterprises that dominated China's economy to go bankrupt, and bailed them out like they did countless times before. However, the central government was soon faced with a different crisis: over the years, many local governments had racked up large amounts of debt, and that debt was now coming due, as lenders sought to recoup their losses. The government then made an impactful decision: it felt that it would be too great a cost to bail them out, allowing them to go bankrupt. As China's social services, at the time, were run by local governments, this caused tens of millions of Chinese to lose access to subsidized healthcare and education. The Chinese government felt that this was an unfortunate outcome, but one that it could bear.
While local government bankruptcies were the immediate consequences of the Ping'an Crisis, its true effects would only become apparent in the following months. While the state-backed corporations would survive, China's small businesses, which had already been subject to economic distress due to the previous year's pandemic, were pushed to the brink of collapse, as they had been dependent on the shadow banking system for credit. It is estimated that a third of small businesses in China went bankrupt in 2021, taking with them tens of millions of jobs in the urban regions. The shadow banking collapse would find another victim in the expanding class of homeowners who had turned to shadow banking to purchase their homes and now found themselves subject to foreclosures. Finally, the crisis would force China to cut back heavily on foreign investment. Around the beginning of the new tens, China had started the Belt and Road Initiative, a trillion-dollar series of infrastructure investments in Asia and Africa financed through loans. The ambitious initiative, while managing to complete multiple projects, had already begun to run into financial difficulties as the nations receiving investment found themselves unable to pay off the loans. The shadow banking crisis severely impacted China's foreign investment, rendering the Belt and Road Initiative financially untenable, and China was forced to write off all of its debt and cancel future projects. This, the earlier capital flight triggered by the revelations of the Ping'an investigation, and crises in the next few months, would hurt the already battered economies of the first and third world alike, triggering a long-awaited global recession. China would struggle to heal its bruised reputation as an investor and investee alike.
Despite the fact that tens of millions of its citizens had found themselves unemployed or homeless, and tens of millions of rural migrants found themselves even more destitute, the Chinese government remained confident that it could weather this crisis like it weathered the past two great financial crises that impacted Asia. It betted that its citizenry would retain their faith in their government and view the Ping'an Crisis as a temporary ordeal.
This would turn out to be a severe miscalculation.
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Chapter 3.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
March 28, 2021
Amazon Fulfilment Center, Trenton, New Jersey
"Somebody, help!"
The worker heard the cry from two aisles to the right. It was distant, the voice of his co-worker feeling as if it was coming through a speaker with a wad of paper towels blocking the noise. Then again, everything now felt muffled for him. He had been hired by Amazon as an employee more than a year ago, having no other way to make ends meet. The work had been grueling enough, but then the pandemic sent most suburbanites home also forced Amazon employees to work double-time to handle the increased demand. For the past year, he felt like he was slowly breaking down, all traces of humanity being drained away from him until he was as empty as the robots that moved boxes on the conveyor belts. All he knew now was the ache of his leg muscles, and a vague aspiration that, someday, things would go back to normal. Humanity would never remember him, and his greatest fear was that he would die alone.
The cry came again. A vague feeling of curiosity stirred in the worker. If he investigated, he might not make his target. But then again, how often did situations like these happen to him? He walked through the aisles, seeking the source of the noise. Eventually, he stumbled upon a few of his co-workers gathered around someone. He could make out the shape of a co-worker, splayed out on the ground, her hand formerly cupped around a tube of pringles, now a distance away from her. She wasn't moving. Above her stood the crier - a woman. The worker viewed the situation as if it was through a thick pane of glass, and yet he felt something flicker inside of him at the sight, though he couldn't place what it was.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and another voice. His boss.
"Alright, what's the holdup?"
"Please, she just collapsed right here, I think we need to get her to a hospital," cried the co-worker. His boss - the worker couldn't be bothered to remember his name - pursed his lips, annoyance written on his face.
"What concerns me is that you all have decided to abandon your targets. Those Easter presents won't pack themselves," replied the boss.
"Sir, I understand what we're dealing with, but we need to help her, she might die if we don't-"
"Enough!," shouted the boss. "I'll see that this is taken care of, but you all have to return to your orders, and I want no further delays! You all are wasting precious time being her-"
The worker felt the glass shatter into a million pieces. Everything suddenly appeared so bright, so clear, so blinding. He felt something he had forgotten flow through him, and his hands moved to the shelf next to him, seemingly guided by a force he was only watching, and pulled a metal thermos from it. A second later, he slammed the thermos into his boss' head, over and over, while a scream pierced the silence, one that he couldn't tell if it belonged to the boss or him. His boss collapsed to the floor, and he watched his co-workers stare in shock as his blood-stained hands dropped the thermos.
Humanity would forget him, but that day, many citizens in America would not forget what he unleashed.
"This just in, CNN is live and reporting that what appears to be a riot has broken out at an Amazon Fulfilment Center in Trenton..."
"It appears the employees began assaulting low-level managers and inflicting severe damage on the warehouse's contents..."
"...his complaints that the employees of the Trenton Fulfilment Center were forced to work in extreme conditions in the runup to Easter mirrors statements made by other employees..."
"...these pictures show makeshift barricades erected inside the Fulfilment Center, likely designed to deter law enforcement..."
"This situation has evolved in an unexpected direction, to say the least. We'll keep you updated, here at CNN."
Amazon Fulfilment Center, Trenton, New Jersey
"Somebody, help!"
The worker heard the cry from two aisles to the right. It was distant, the voice of his co-worker feeling as if it was coming through a speaker with a wad of paper towels blocking the noise. Then again, everything now felt muffled for him. He had been hired by Amazon as an employee more than a year ago, having no other way to make ends meet. The work had been grueling enough, but then the pandemic sent most suburbanites home also forced Amazon employees to work double-time to handle the increased demand. For the past year, he felt like he was slowly breaking down, all traces of humanity being drained away from him until he was as empty as the robots that moved boxes on the conveyor belts. All he knew now was the ache of his leg muscles, and a vague aspiration that, someday, things would go back to normal. Humanity would never remember him, and his greatest fear was that he would die alone.
The cry came again. A vague feeling of curiosity stirred in the worker. If he investigated, he might not make his target. But then again, how often did situations like these happen to him? He walked through the aisles, seeking the source of the noise. Eventually, he stumbled upon a few of his co-workers gathered around someone. He could make out the shape of a co-worker, splayed out on the ground, her hand formerly cupped around a tube of pringles, now a distance away from her. She wasn't moving. Above her stood the crier - a woman. The worker viewed the situation as if it was through a thick pane of glass, and yet he felt something flicker inside of him at the sight, though he couldn't place what it was.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and another voice. His boss.
"Alright, what's the holdup?"
"Please, she just collapsed right here, I think we need to get her to a hospital," cried the co-worker. His boss - the worker couldn't be bothered to remember his name - pursed his lips, annoyance written on his face.
"What concerns me is that you all have decided to abandon your targets. Those Easter presents won't pack themselves," replied the boss.
"Sir, I understand what we're dealing with, but we need to help her, she might die if we don't-"
"Enough!," shouted the boss. "I'll see that this is taken care of, but you all have to return to your orders, and I want no further delays! You all are wasting precious time being her-"
The worker felt the glass shatter into a million pieces. Everything suddenly appeared so bright, so clear, so blinding. He felt something he had forgotten flow through him, and his hands moved to the shelf next to him, seemingly guided by a force he was only watching, and pulled a metal thermos from it. A second later, he slammed the thermos into his boss' head, over and over, while a scream pierced the silence, one that he couldn't tell if it belonged to the boss or him. His boss collapsed to the floor, and he watched his co-workers stare in shock as his blood-stained hands dropped the thermos.
Humanity would forget him, but that day, many citizens in America would not forget what he unleashed.
"This just in, CNN is live and reporting that what appears to be a riot has broken out at an Amazon Fulfilment Center in Trenton..."
"It appears the employees began assaulting low-level managers and inflicting severe damage on the warehouse's contents..."
"...his complaints that the employees of the Trenton Fulfilment Center were forced to work in extreme conditions in the runup to Easter mirrors statements made by other employees..."
"...these pictures show makeshift barricades erected inside the Fulfilment Center, likely designed to deter law enforcement..."
"This situation has evolved in an unexpected direction, to say the least. We'll keep you updated, here at CNN."
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Chapter 3.3
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
March 29, 2021
Trenton, New Jersey
"This just in, it appears that the city of Trenton is deploying multiple SWAT teams to the Fulfilment Center, and they are preparing to enter the building in response to the rioters..."
(Note: The narration involving the Corporal are his thoughts and opinions, not my own. That will be true for every point-of-view character)
Corporal James Whytecliff lead his subordinates to a man-sized door at the side of the Fulfilment Center, their point of entry. As he waited for the officers to breach the entrance, he rallied his resolve. Not less than a year ago, he had been on the frontlines while hordes of agitators marched in the streets. A few rounds of rubber bullets, and all the limp-dicked liberals in the media had shat on him for doing his job. He chuckled. How hostile would they be when it was their online deliveries under attack? This would make them see reason.
Corporal Whytecliff heard the door crack open, and ordered an assaulter through. Once a few seconds had transpired without any shots, he and the rest of his men entered. The warehouse was seemingly deserted, and looked more like a pigsty than a distribution center. Just from his position, the corporal could spot ransacked shelves and many, many items strewn on the ground. With the entrance secured, he ordered his men to move further in. They passed many other rows of items, gingerly stepping around fallen item, until they encountered an obstacle. They were about a few hundred feet inside, and ahead of them stood a makeshift barricade constructed from items on the shelves. Behind them, two of the Fulfilment Center's employees crouched, clutching clubs or other potential weapons. Corporal Whytecliff barked an order at them. They shouted back, words that he didn't care to listen to, and one of them sprayed some sort of repellent in one of the officers' face.
Well then, if they wanted the hard way, so be it. Corporal Whytecliff fired rubber bullets at both of them. One of them took it in the chest and collapsed immediately. The other got hit in the back and tried to run. He made it only a few feet before the officers were on him, making sure he could never threaten them again. Corporal Whytecliff heard shouts from further in, and he and his men pursued. They made it to an intersection near the center of the building that had been converted into a fortress, manned by employees. When they approached, the shouts grew louder, and the employees in front of them started throwing things from the shelves. He responded without hesitation. The space in front of them filled with bullets, the shots echoing for rows and row. The employees were in cover, but he and his men fired tear gas grenades to fish them out. In the chaos, he spotted a fire on a shelf in front of him. No doubt a bullet had punctured a hairspray cannister or something like that. It took only a few more rounds for the employees to break. They scattered in all directions, and he sent his men after them. They fired their riot guns at the employees, and he heard a pop or two as two more fires broke out. He was about to personally restrain a particularly fast one when he felt a wave of heat and pressure throw him back into a shelf. When he came to, he found that the entire aisle in front of him was ablaze, and heard the occasional crack as more dangerously combustible items ignited. The corporal felt something he hadn't felt on any other riot he had suppressed: fear. In a jiffy, he picked himself up and radioed to his squad, ordering them to retreat. They returned to his position, and they ran as the shelves behind them caught ablaze. Every few seconds, they heard loud cracks and items being blasted off their shelves. The heat grew hotter and hotter as they outraced the flames. It took them only two minutes to make it back to the entrance, and when they emerged, they saw that many, many cameras were trained on them, and the blaze they had started.
"In the minutes, following the entry of the SWAT team commanded by Corporal James Whytecliff, the Fulfilment Center in Trenton caught ablaze, with many Amazon employees trapped inside. Officials estimate that more than a hundred have perished in the blaze that destroyed the Fulfilment Center..."
"...in response to this incident, many other Amazon employees have taken to social media, condemning the actions of the Trenton Police Department and the policies of Amazon..."
"...protests have broken out in Amazon Fulfilment Centers across the country, with reports of rioting and assaults trickling in. The governors of Washington, California, New Jersey, and Texas have mobilized their state National Guards to uphold order..."
Trenton, New Jersey
"This just in, it appears that the city of Trenton is deploying multiple SWAT teams to the Fulfilment Center, and they are preparing to enter the building in response to the rioters..."
(Note: The narration involving the Corporal are his thoughts and opinions, not my own. That will be true for every point-of-view character)
Corporal James Whytecliff lead his subordinates to a man-sized door at the side of the Fulfilment Center, their point of entry. As he waited for the officers to breach the entrance, he rallied his resolve. Not less than a year ago, he had been on the frontlines while hordes of agitators marched in the streets. A few rounds of rubber bullets, and all the limp-dicked liberals in the media had shat on him for doing his job. He chuckled. How hostile would they be when it was their online deliveries under attack? This would make them see reason.
Corporal Whytecliff heard the door crack open, and ordered an assaulter through. Once a few seconds had transpired without any shots, he and the rest of his men entered. The warehouse was seemingly deserted, and looked more like a pigsty than a distribution center. Just from his position, the corporal could spot ransacked shelves and many, many items strewn on the ground. With the entrance secured, he ordered his men to move further in. They passed many other rows of items, gingerly stepping around fallen item, until they encountered an obstacle. They were about a few hundred feet inside, and ahead of them stood a makeshift barricade constructed from items on the shelves. Behind them, two of the Fulfilment Center's employees crouched, clutching clubs or other potential weapons. Corporal Whytecliff barked an order at them. They shouted back, words that he didn't care to listen to, and one of them sprayed some sort of repellent in one of the officers' face.
Well then, if they wanted the hard way, so be it. Corporal Whytecliff fired rubber bullets at both of them. One of them took it in the chest and collapsed immediately. The other got hit in the back and tried to run. He made it only a few feet before the officers were on him, making sure he could never threaten them again. Corporal Whytecliff heard shouts from further in, and he and his men pursued. They made it to an intersection near the center of the building that had been converted into a fortress, manned by employees. When they approached, the shouts grew louder, and the employees in front of them started throwing things from the shelves. He responded without hesitation. The space in front of them filled with bullets, the shots echoing for rows and row. The employees were in cover, but he and his men fired tear gas grenades to fish them out. In the chaos, he spotted a fire on a shelf in front of him. No doubt a bullet had punctured a hairspray cannister or something like that. It took only a few more rounds for the employees to break. They scattered in all directions, and he sent his men after them. They fired their riot guns at the employees, and he heard a pop or two as two more fires broke out. He was about to personally restrain a particularly fast one when he felt a wave of heat and pressure throw him back into a shelf. When he came to, he found that the entire aisle in front of him was ablaze, and heard the occasional crack as more dangerously combustible items ignited. The corporal felt something he hadn't felt on any other riot he had suppressed: fear. In a jiffy, he picked himself up and radioed to his squad, ordering them to retreat. They returned to his position, and they ran as the shelves behind them caught ablaze. Every few seconds, they heard loud cracks and items being blasted off their shelves. The heat grew hotter and hotter as they outraced the flames. It took them only two minutes to make it back to the entrance, and when they emerged, they saw that many, many cameras were trained on them, and the blaze they had started.
"In the minutes, following the entry of the SWAT team commanded by Corporal James Whytecliff, the Fulfilment Center in Trenton caught ablaze, with many Amazon employees trapped inside. Officials estimate that more than a hundred have perished in the blaze that destroyed the Fulfilment Center..."
"...in response to this incident, many other Amazon employees have taken to social media, condemning the actions of the Trenton Police Department and the policies of Amazon..."
"...protests have broken out in Amazon Fulfilment Centers across the country, with reports of rioting and assaults trickling in. The governors of Washington, California, New Jersey, and Texas have mobilized their state National Guards to uphold order..."
Chapter 3.4
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
April 3, 2021
San Francisco, California
Julian Montfort was glued to his television screen as he witnessed the chaos that had broken out across the country. Following the fire at the Trenton Fulfilment Center, Amazon employees were protesting, or even rioting, en masse. It appeared that half of the Fulfilment Centers in the country were shut down, and America found that most of its orders through Amazon had been delayed or even destroyed. Julian's college friend, Anton Sykes, sat next to him, watching in total silence, until the former broke it.
"I think there's going to be many more warehouse fires before this is over. And here I thought the American public had gotten their fill of rioting."
He turned to his friend.
"You see this, Anton? This is the future of the United States. This is what will come to pass across the nation, in every industry, if we do not take action. That's why I want you to join me."
"Very well," replied Anton. "What do you have in mind?"
This was going to take quite the explanation.
San Francisco, California
Julian Montfort was glued to his television screen as he witnessed the chaos that had broken out across the country. Following the fire at the Trenton Fulfilment Center, Amazon employees were protesting, or even rioting, en masse. It appeared that half of the Fulfilment Centers in the country were shut down, and America found that most of its orders through Amazon had been delayed or even destroyed. Julian's college friend, Anton Sykes, sat next to him, watching in total silence, until the former broke it.
"I think there's going to be many more warehouse fires before this is over. And here I thought the American public had gotten their fill of rioting."
He turned to his friend.
"You see this, Anton? This is the future of the United States. This is what will come to pass across the nation, in every industry, if we do not take action. That's why I want you to join me."
"Very well," replied Anton. "What do you have in mind?"
This was going to take quite the explanation.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
I wanted to get Chapter 4 tonight, but because it would involve a massive insurrection in a foreign country (though the protestors are far more justified in their actions), and in light of today's horrific events in Washington DC, I have decided to not release Chapter 4 for the next few days, until we begin to move on from this tragedy.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Well thank you for your complements! Yeah, a lot of this is based on actual trends that I discovered in my research. I wanted to make the timeline accessible to people who don't closely follow world politics, which is why I have to include some infodumps to get people up to speed.
Chapter 4.1 - Crimson Sands
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Excerpt from "A History of the Middle East in the 21st Century"
While Lebanon sought to preserve and benefit from its status as a neutral state in the Arab-Israeli conflict, the late sixties would shatter this hope in the most horrific way possible. Following the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Lebanon's south became host to the Palestinian Liberation Organization, which sought to use the country as a base to launch attacks on Israel. In July of 1968, the PFLP, a Marxist branch of the PLO, hijacked an El Al plane en route to Algiers, and in response Israel destroyed twelve civilian aircraft at Beirut's international airport. These attacks would cause a flare-up of tensions between pro-Israel Lebanese Christians and pro-Palestinian Lebanese Muslims that would break out into the First Lebanese Civil War in 1975. This terrible conflict would become a proxy war between Syria and Israel that lasted for fifteen years, during which Lebanon had to endure both Israeli and Syrian occupation.
The conflict was only resolved when the Lebanese militias that participated in the war agreed to establish a unity government on sectarian lines, with different government posts reserved for members of certain religious groups. At the time, this solution was an acceptable compromise that brought years of conflict and destitution to an end. In the following years, billions of dollars from the Lebanese diaspora poured in, funding the reconstruction of the nation. Condominiums and fancy restaurants lined the streets of the upscale districts of Beirut, sectarian violence was sporadic at worst, and the nation managed to stay neutral in the vast web of geopolitical conflict that entwinned the Middle East. However, this seemingly bright future was only surface-level. The sectarian government encouraged the growth of patronage networks similar to those run by Tammany Hall. Eventually, this lead to vast corruption within the Lebanese government, as politicians and civil servants stole billions and funneled them to their sectarian allies. In addition, Lebanese society became highly unequal, with a small elite of oligarchs controlling vast majority of the nation's wealth. Less than half a mile from Beirut's downtown, one could find slums filled of impoverished residents who depended upon state subsidies for basic necessities.
Out of all of Lebanon's sectarian groups, by far the most infamous is Hezbollah. This group, which claimed to represent lower-class Shia, was heavily backed by Syria and Iran, and, due to its role in resisting Israel's occupation of Lebanon, was allowed to maintain its arms while all other militias were disarmed. This allowed the group to gather vast influence over the Lebanese state, a process that only accelerated following Israel's second occupation of Lebanon in 2006. By the end of the new tens, Hezbollah had become a state within a state, and a military force comparable in size to Lebanon's Armed Forces. In the height of the Great Undoing's ideological degeneration, the people of Lebanon were resigned to the continued dominance of sectarianism and Islamism in their political system.
However, this situation changed far, far faster than anyone could have predicted. By 2019, the Lebanese government's sectarian divides, gridlock, and corruption had reached a tipping point, causing foreign donors to withhold their funds. Lebanon's banks soon began to run out of currency, closing their doors and depriving millions of ordinary Lebanese of their savings. Resentment towards Lebanon's political establishment, which had been simmering for years, began to boil over, and the final straw for the Lebanese people was the government's proposal of a tax on a popular internet messaging app that ordinary citizens depended on in their daily lives. In October, the Lebanese took to the streets en masse, demanding the complete abolition of the sectarian system and the election of a new government. These protests were a watershed in Lebanese politics: never before had citizens of entirely different sects rallied around a single set of demands. Ultimately, these protests led to the resignation of the Lebanese prime minister, to be replaced with a technocrat who pledged reform.
However, this promises would prove to be meaningless. The new government was unable to tackle corruption, a prerequisite to receiving foreign aid, and in March of 2020, the Lebanese central bank defaulted. The year would see further tragedy, as Lebanon was subject to not only a pandemic but a tragic explosion at the Port of Beirut that left hundreds of thousands homeless and the nation even further in crisis. By this point, the peaceful protest movement had petered out due to its lack of central leadership, and the Lebanese felt nothing but hopelessness. In October of 2020, the previous prime minister returned to power, a final insult to the Lebanese people and their desire for change.
The following months were, in hindsight, a clear harbinger of what was to come. The official investigation into the Beirut explosion was supposed to have taken only five days, but would end up never coming to pass at all due to sectarian infighting within the government. However, as time passed, important facts about what had occurred became clear: the explosion was caused by hundreds of tons of ammonium nitrate which had been offloaded years earlier, and the government had taken no action to secure it despite knowing about the delivery. Hezbollah's support among the populace plummeted as many blamed it for the continued political gridlock and corruption that had lead to the explosion. By the end of December, the government was still utterly deadlocked, and the central bank had only a few months before it completely ran out of currency to pay for food subsidies. The populace was facing total economic collapse, and would soon discover that they had nothing more to lose. The tinder had been laid out, and a match had been lit. At the end of April, Lebanon would come to face the fact that those who make a peaceful revolution impossible make a violent revolution inevitable.
While Lebanon sought to preserve and benefit from its status as a neutral state in the Arab-Israeli conflict, the late sixties would shatter this hope in the most horrific way possible. Following the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Lebanon's south became host to the Palestinian Liberation Organization, which sought to use the country as a base to launch attacks on Israel. In July of 1968, the PFLP, a Marxist branch of the PLO, hijacked an El Al plane en route to Algiers, and in response Israel destroyed twelve civilian aircraft at Beirut's international airport. These attacks would cause a flare-up of tensions between pro-Israel Lebanese Christians and pro-Palestinian Lebanese Muslims that would break out into the First Lebanese Civil War in 1975. This terrible conflict would become a proxy war between Syria and Israel that lasted for fifteen years, during which Lebanon had to endure both Israeli and Syrian occupation.
The conflict was only resolved when the Lebanese militias that participated in the war agreed to establish a unity government on sectarian lines, with different government posts reserved for members of certain religious groups. At the time, this solution was an acceptable compromise that brought years of conflict and destitution to an end. In the following years, billions of dollars from the Lebanese diaspora poured in, funding the reconstruction of the nation. Condominiums and fancy restaurants lined the streets of the upscale districts of Beirut, sectarian violence was sporadic at worst, and the nation managed to stay neutral in the vast web of geopolitical conflict that entwinned the Middle East. However, this seemingly bright future was only surface-level. The sectarian government encouraged the growth of patronage networks similar to those run by Tammany Hall. Eventually, this lead to vast corruption within the Lebanese government, as politicians and civil servants stole billions and funneled them to their sectarian allies. In addition, Lebanese society became highly unequal, with a small elite of oligarchs controlling vast majority of the nation's wealth. Less than half a mile from Beirut's downtown, one could find slums filled of impoverished residents who depended upon state subsidies for basic necessities.
Out of all of Lebanon's sectarian groups, by far the most infamous is Hezbollah. This group, which claimed to represent lower-class Shia, was heavily backed by Syria and Iran, and, due to its role in resisting Israel's occupation of Lebanon, was allowed to maintain its arms while all other militias were disarmed. This allowed the group to gather vast influence over the Lebanese state, a process that only accelerated following Israel's second occupation of Lebanon in 2006. By the end of the new tens, Hezbollah had become a state within a state, and a military force comparable in size to Lebanon's Armed Forces. In the height of the Great Undoing's ideological degeneration, the people of Lebanon were resigned to the continued dominance of sectarianism and Islamism in their political system.
However, this situation changed far, far faster than anyone could have predicted. By 2019, the Lebanese government's sectarian divides, gridlock, and corruption had reached a tipping point, causing foreign donors to withhold their funds. Lebanon's banks soon began to run out of currency, closing their doors and depriving millions of ordinary Lebanese of their savings. Resentment towards Lebanon's political establishment, which had been simmering for years, began to boil over, and the final straw for the Lebanese people was the government's proposal of a tax on a popular internet messaging app that ordinary citizens depended on in their daily lives. In October, the Lebanese took to the streets en masse, demanding the complete abolition of the sectarian system and the election of a new government. These protests were a watershed in Lebanese politics: never before had citizens of entirely different sects rallied around a single set of demands. Ultimately, these protests led to the resignation of the Lebanese prime minister, to be replaced with a technocrat who pledged reform.
However, this promises would prove to be meaningless. The new government was unable to tackle corruption, a prerequisite to receiving foreign aid, and in March of 2020, the Lebanese central bank defaulted. The year would see further tragedy, as Lebanon was subject to not only a pandemic but a tragic explosion at the Port of Beirut that left hundreds of thousands homeless and the nation even further in crisis. By this point, the peaceful protest movement had petered out due to its lack of central leadership, and the Lebanese felt nothing but hopelessness. In October of 2020, the previous prime minister returned to power, a final insult to the Lebanese people and their desire for change.
The following months were, in hindsight, a clear harbinger of what was to come. The official investigation into the Beirut explosion was supposed to have taken only five days, but would end up never coming to pass at all due to sectarian infighting within the government. However, as time passed, important facts about what had occurred became clear: the explosion was caused by hundreds of tons of ammonium nitrate which had been offloaded years earlier, and the government had taken no action to secure it despite knowing about the delivery. Hezbollah's support among the populace plummeted as many blamed it for the continued political gridlock and corruption that had lead to the explosion. By the end of December, the government was still utterly deadlocked, and the central bank had only a few months before it completely ran out of currency to pay for food subsidies. The populace was facing total economic collapse, and would soon discover that they had nothing more to lose. The tinder had been laid out, and a match had been lit. At the end of April, Lebanon would come to face the fact that those who make a peaceful revolution impossible make a violent revolution inevitable.
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Chapter 4.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
April 30, 2021
Karantina Neighborhood, Beirut
Hassan Khoury stared at his phone as protests across the United States played out a world away. He didn't think the hollow-eyed bugmen had it in them, but there they were, putting their lives on a line in an uprising against the repulsive technology barons that had become the face of modern capitalism. Their rebellion would be crushed, of course, and rendered yet another shallow partisan struggle that wouldn't amount to anything. But the images would linger in the hearts and minds of oppressed peoples across the world, and maybe, just maybe, grant them the courage to rise up. The people of Lebanon had to heed this call. There was no other alternative. The peaceful demonstrations a year ago had been a failure, their organizers disunited and totally lacking the will to seize power. All except for one.
The Lebanese Communist Party was an oft-overlooked participant in the Lebanese Civil War. In its early stages, it lead its own militia, the Popular Guard, in support of the pro-Palestinian factions of the war. However, in the eighties, it drew the ire of Islamic fundamentalists, declining in influence and being the target of multiple assassinations. Upon the conclusion of the war, the Communists went underground, biding their time until they could once again play a major role in Lebanese politics. They maintained armed squads, and their forces were bolstered after they organized patrols along the border of Syria to protect ordinary Lebanese from the Islamic State at the height of the Syrian Civil War. However, their fortunes had truly reversed when the protests began. They had marched with the protestors, encouraging fellow citizens to take the streets, and proudly advertised their opposition to sectarianism and corruption. Many Lebanese, young and old, had received their message, and now took inspiration from the works of Marx and Engels.
Hassan's thoughts were interrupted by a knock from the door. He stood up from his bed, and opened it. It was his daughter, Ruza. He sighed. Fourteen years ago, her birth had bolstered his resolve. After the firm where he worked had laid him off, she was the only thing in his life he had left. She was respectful yet ambitious, and his beliefs had found fertile ground in her heart. He dreamed, above all, that she could have a future. But now, he could see that worry was written all over her face.
"Father, I... I'm just so worried about what might happen tomorrow. The military was shooting all those people. What if you're next?"
Hassan turned his gaze towards the window. Milling about on the streets were the last stragglers of the protestors that had marched in the streets the last few days, since the government announced that subsidies had run out. They had torn through the upscale businesses only a few hundred feet from his tenement building, marching not for abstract ideals, but for food. The army had cordoned off the streets, facing the crowds, and when they advanced, the soldiers shot the protestors. The streets were still stained with their blood. The sight of it only made Hassan more determined. He knew, deep down, that the rank-and-file would soon lose their will to fire on their fellow citizens. Come tomorrow, he and many of his comrades would march with them, a May Day uprising in the making.
Hassan turned back to his daughter.
"Ruza, my precious, have no fear. I've heard rumors that the army is turning against the government. I need to be there to make that happen. Many in the army know that it's the politicians who are their true enemy. Know that I will protect you and care for you, no matter what."
His voice broke.
"I will return. That is my word."
His daughter embraced him, as he felt tears trickle down his face. They spent minutes like that, before his daughter broke away and returned to the kitchen. Hassan breathed in and out, trying to banish his moment of weakness, something that he could not show when facing his enemy. The Lebanese Communist Party had spent months and months preparing for this moment, rehearsing their plan of attack over and over. They had agitated over phone and on the streets for months, fermenting revolution in the hearts of the Lebanese people, and he pledged that they would succeed where the protestors had failed.
Decades ago, the West and the Islamists had consigned them to the dustbin of history. They would soon see how foolish they had been.
Karantina Neighborhood, Beirut
Hassan Khoury stared at his phone as protests across the United States played out a world away. He didn't think the hollow-eyed bugmen had it in them, but there they were, putting their lives on a line in an uprising against the repulsive technology barons that had become the face of modern capitalism. Their rebellion would be crushed, of course, and rendered yet another shallow partisan struggle that wouldn't amount to anything. But the images would linger in the hearts and minds of oppressed peoples across the world, and maybe, just maybe, grant them the courage to rise up. The people of Lebanon had to heed this call. There was no other alternative. The peaceful demonstrations a year ago had been a failure, their organizers disunited and totally lacking the will to seize power. All except for one.
The Lebanese Communist Party was an oft-overlooked participant in the Lebanese Civil War. In its early stages, it lead its own militia, the Popular Guard, in support of the pro-Palestinian factions of the war. However, in the eighties, it drew the ire of Islamic fundamentalists, declining in influence and being the target of multiple assassinations. Upon the conclusion of the war, the Communists went underground, biding their time until they could once again play a major role in Lebanese politics. They maintained armed squads, and their forces were bolstered after they organized patrols along the border of Syria to protect ordinary Lebanese from the Islamic State at the height of the Syrian Civil War. However, their fortunes had truly reversed when the protests began. They had marched with the protestors, encouraging fellow citizens to take the streets, and proudly advertised their opposition to sectarianism and corruption. Many Lebanese, young and old, had received their message, and now took inspiration from the works of Marx and Engels.
Hassan's thoughts were interrupted by a knock from the door. He stood up from his bed, and opened it. It was his daughter, Ruza. He sighed. Fourteen years ago, her birth had bolstered his resolve. After the firm where he worked had laid him off, she was the only thing in his life he had left. She was respectful yet ambitious, and his beliefs had found fertile ground in her heart. He dreamed, above all, that she could have a future. But now, he could see that worry was written all over her face.
"Father, I... I'm just so worried about what might happen tomorrow. The military was shooting all those people. What if you're next?"
Hassan turned his gaze towards the window. Milling about on the streets were the last stragglers of the protestors that had marched in the streets the last few days, since the government announced that subsidies had run out. They had torn through the upscale businesses only a few hundred feet from his tenement building, marching not for abstract ideals, but for food. The army had cordoned off the streets, facing the crowds, and when they advanced, the soldiers shot the protestors. The streets were still stained with their blood. The sight of it only made Hassan more determined. He knew, deep down, that the rank-and-file would soon lose their will to fire on their fellow citizens. Come tomorrow, he and many of his comrades would march with them, a May Day uprising in the making.
Hassan turned back to his daughter.
"Ruza, my precious, have no fear. I've heard rumors that the army is turning against the government. I need to be there to make that happen. Many in the army know that it's the politicians who are their true enemy. Know that I will protect you and care for you, no matter what."
His voice broke.
"I will return. That is my word."
His daughter embraced him, as he felt tears trickle down his face. They spent minutes like that, before his daughter broke away and returned to the kitchen. Hassan breathed in and out, trying to banish his moment of weakness, something that he could not show when facing his enemy. The Lebanese Communist Party had spent months and months preparing for this moment, rehearsing their plan of attack over and over. They had agitated over phone and on the streets for months, fermenting revolution in the hearts of the Lebanese people, and he pledged that they would succeed where the protestors had failed.
Decades ago, the West and the Islamists had consigned them to the dustbin of history. They would soon see how foolish they had been.
Chapter 4.3
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
May 1, 2021
Beirut Central District
The streets were already packed when Hassan and his comrades arrived, rifles by their side. The stores lining the streets were either barricaded or already looted, a sign of desperation. Down the street, Hassan spotted their target: the Grand Serail, headquarters of the Prime Minister. Other streets to their side lead to the Parliament, multiple ministries, and the headquarters of the Banque du Liban. Blocking the way to the Serail was a barricade, staffed by tens of soldiers of the Presidential Guard and reinforced by armored cars. Hassan could spot multiple machine gun emplacements, their turrets manned and aimed at the ground. The people shouted slogans, begging for the corrupt government to be torn down, and jeering at the guardsmen opposing them. Hassan signaled for his squad to take cover in a nearby store, the windows having been broken for months. He and two others would march to the front of the crowd, facing the soldiers directly.
Hassan and his aides raised a red flag, waving it in the air like a toreador goading an angry bull. The crowd's shouts grew ever louder, and he could see one of the officers shout something to his subordinates. A few soldiers began to mill about. He tensed as he prepared for an imminent attack - and yet it never came. The soldiers were not going to fire, they were pulling up the barricades and moving to the side of the street.
"The soldiers have let us through!," shouted Hassan. "Forward!"
He and his comrades marched through the barrier, and the crowd moved with him. The Grand Serail loomed closer, and it was soon surrounded.
"Into the building!," shouted Hassan! "Arrest the Prime Minister, arrest them all!"
One of his men fired a shot at the ground-floor windows, shattering them. The squad was the first to enter through, unlocking the doors to let the rest of the crowd in. Now, the next stage of the plan would begin. Hassan and his men swept the complex room by room, capturing every government employee they could find. He knew that, at the same time, squads of the Communist Party in other parts of the city were leading similar assaults on the Presidential Palace and other government ministries. With the army out of the way, there was no one who could stop them.
It took them half an hour to find the Prime Minister and tie his hands together with zip ties. The building was under their control, but there was one last thing the men had to do. Hassan had his comrades retrieve a flag they had been saving for this occasion. Then, they ascended to the roof of the Grand Serail, and reached the flagpole flying the Lebanese flag on it. What happened next would be broadcasted to televisions across the entire world. While millions of eyes were on them, they slowly lowered the flag and hoisted its replacement. Hassan stood near the edge of the roof, his fist raised in triumph, a photograph that would be entered into the history books. Then, his men returned to the ground floor. They found a radio transmitter, and broadcasted a message to the entire world.
"On this International Labor Day, the people of Lebanon have overthrown the den of crooks and thieves that stole their money and their futures! Long live the revolution! Workers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains!"
Above them, the flagpole flew a different Lebanese tricolor - one emblazoned with the hammer and sickle.
Hundreds of miles away, in the Matcal building of Tel Aviv, the Israeli high command gathered for an emergency meeting. What had just occurred in Lebanon was completely unthinkable. The Communist Party had been a marginalized organization, and now it had stormed the buildings of the Lebanese government and sparked uprisings in not just Beirut but in cities across Lebanon. Already, they were receiving intelligence that Hezbollah, a backer of the legitimate government, was preparing to mobilize its forces. Both the revolutionaries and the Islamists were deeply hostile to the Jewish State, and the IDF's generals prepared for the worst.
Beirut Central District
The streets were already packed when Hassan and his comrades arrived, rifles by their side. The stores lining the streets were either barricaded or already looted, a sign of desperation. Down the street, Hassan spotted their target: the Grand Serail, headquarters of the Prime Minister. Other streets to their side lead to the Parliament, multiple ministries, and the headquarters of the Banque du Liban. Blocking the way to the Serail was a barricade, staffed by tens of soldiers of the Presidential Guard and reinforced by armored cars. Hassan could spot multiple machine gun emplacements, their turrets manned and aimed at the ground. The people shouted slogans, begging for the corrupt government to be torn down, and jeering at the guardsmen opposing them. Hassan signaled for his squad to take cover in a nearby store, the windows having been broken for months. He and two others would march to the front of the crowd, facing the soldiers directly.
Hassan and his aides raised a red flag, waving it in the air like a toreador goading an angry bull. The crowd's shouts grew ever louder, and he could see one of the officers shout something to his subordinates. A few soldiers began to mill about. He tensed as he prepared for an imminent attack - and yet it never came. The soldiers were not going to fire, they were pulling up the barricades and moving to the side of the street.
"The soldiers have let us through!," shouted Hassan. "Forward!"
He and his comrades marched through the barrier, and the crowd moved with him. The Grand Serail loomed closer, and it was soon surrounded.
"Into the building!," shouted Hassan! "Arrest the Prime Minister, arrest them all!"
One of his men fired a shot at the ground-floor windows, shattering them. The squad was the first to enter through, unlocking the doors to let the rest of the crowd in. Now, the next stage of the plan would begin. Hassan and his men swept the complex room by room, capturing every government employee they could find. He knew that, at the same time, squads of the Communist Party in other parts of the city were leading similar assaults on the Presidential Palace and other government ministries. With the army out of the way, there was no one who could stop them.
It took them half an hour to find the Prime Minister and tie his hands together with zip ties. The building was under their control, but there was one last thing the men had to do. Hassan had his comrades retrieve a flag they had been saving for this occasion. Then, they ascended to the roof of the Grand Serail, and reached the flagpole flying the Lebanese flag on it. What happened next would be broadcasted to televisions across the entire world. While millions of eyes were on them, they slowly lowered the flag and hoisted its replacement. Hassan stood near the edge of the roof, his fist raised in triumph, a photograph that would be entered into the history books. Then, his men returned to the ground floor. They found a radio transmitter, and broadcasted a message to the entire world.
"On this International Labor Day, the people of Lebanon have overthrown the den of crooks and thieves that stole their money and their futures! Long live the revolution! Workers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains!"
Above them, the flagpole flew a different Lebanese tricolor - one emblazoned with the hammer and sickle.
Hundreds of miles away, in the Matcal building of Tel Aviv, the Israeli high command gathered for an emergency meeting. What had just occurred in Lebanon was completely unthinkable. The Communist Party had been a marginalized organization, and now it had stormed the buildings of the Lebanese government and sparked uprisings in not just Beirut but in cities across Lebanon. Already, they were receiving intelligence that Hezbollah, a backer of the legitimate government, was preparing to mobilize its forces. Both the revolutionaries and the Islamists were deeply hostile to the Jewish State, and the IDF's generals prepared for the worst.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Alright, that's it for Chapter 4. I apologize if these events are evocative of what happened on January 6th. Just know that the conditions in Lebanon in the next few months will be dire enough that a communist revolution is a surprisingly plausible outcome. The Lebanese Communist Party played a major role in the protests.
- Location
- The great frozen north
This is a gripping, if rather horrifying timeline. You've got yourself a watcher. I'm rather dreading what that robber baron Julian Montfort is planning.
Also, I suspect I'll hate the answer, but how much historical basis is there for the Amazon centers having THAT little regard for human life?
Also, I suspect I'll hate the answer, but how much historical basis is there for the Amazon centers having THAT little regard for human life?
- Location
- Illinois
Yeah no doubt I felt some dread from the scenario outlined in Lebanon, but that has more to do with current circumstances in the US than anything else. This seems like a pretty reasonable end point for what's going on in Lebanon and honestly I would be curious if it has impacts throughout the wider Middle East, since it seems that the Arab Winter is getting a little less... frosty nowadays.