- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Lest the World Perish: A Timeline of the Near-Apocalypse
- Thread starter gutza1
- Start date
- Timeline Modern Future
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Oof. I guess sometimes reality *is* stranger than fiction.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
...What. Where did that come from? I have a persistent herpes infection from childhood that gives me brain fog, not actual cancer.
- Pronouns
- He
Okay, thanks for clarification. Get well soon : )
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
An update on where I've been for the past week:
I again apologize for not writing any material. Last weekend I was prepared to do so when life rudely interrupted me. My undergraduate research mentor suddenly revealed that she had more than a thousand images she had to manually analyze for an Idaho Nuclear Lab report which had originally been due last December. Normally this kind of work is perfect for undergraduate researchers such as myself to complete, but my mentor has a philosophy that her protegees should learn how to do actual research and not just grunt work. However, this reluctance to assign her undergraduates such menial tasks, and the fact that she did not have the time to process the data herself, meant that the task was left undone for months until she approached me last week, saying that it absolutely had to be completed by the end of this week.
I had to work 10 hours a day on this for an entire week, while also juggling schoolwork and midterms, to complete this task and save the INL report the data was to be used for. However, this weekend and next week will be light for me, and I am committed to beginning writing LtWP again. My health issues have been resolved so there should be no more obstacles.
I again apologize for not writing any material. Last weekend I was prepared to do so when life rudely interrupted me. My undergraduate research mentor suddenly revealed that she had more than a thousand images she had to manually analyze for an Idaho Nuclear Lab report which had originally been due last December. Normally this kind of work is perfect for undergraduate researchers such as myself to complete, but my mentor has a philosophy that her protegees should learn how to do actual research and not just grunt work. However, this reluctance to assign her undergraduates such menial tasks, and the fact that she did not have the time to process the data herself, meant that the task was left undone for months until she approached me last week, saying that it absolutely had to be completed by the end of this week.
I had to work 10 hours a day on this for an entire week, while also juggling schoolwork and midterms, to complete this task and save the INL report the data was to be used for. However, this weekend and next week will be light for me, and I am committed to beginning writing LtWP again. My health issues have been resolved so there should be no more obstacles.
Chapter 7.1 - What is to be Done?
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Journal of Emil Ilyich Shabayev
June 24, 2021
Something that frustrates many foreign observers is Russia's enduring hostility towards liberalism and the West, sentiments shared both by the regime and the populace. Many have argued that the Russian people have an inherent fondness for strongmen and a disdain for basic freedoms, something that has endured through tsarism and socialism alike. This is a gross oversimplification of Russian history, but that is not something I wish to delve further. No, I wish to instead explain the sordid history of liberalism in modern Russia, and how that lead to the current regime.
Many are no doubt familiar with the concept of the "end of history" following the collapse of the Soviet Union. According to many, this event heralded the final victory of liberal capitalism over any of its ideological competitors, with the only future political conflict being its spread to the remaining anti-liberal holdouts in the Third World. In the newly reformed Russia and across the rest of the Eastern Bloc, former party officials reinvented themselves as liberal reformers, who gave the people in their home countries a promise: that the fall of Soviet socialism would lead to a freer and more prosperous future.
That it was yet another lie did not cross our minds. These "reformers" soon set out to privatize all sectors of the formerly socialist economy, an action that drove many enterprises into bankruptcy and caused the kind of deindustrialization that took decades to progress in the West to occur in only a few years. Social services were also cut, as the American-based neoclassical economists had ordained the free market to be supreme. Millions were driven into destitution, something that is reflected in most statistics of the period: unemployment, alcoholism, excess deaths, and crime skyrocketed while disposable income and birth rates collapsed. From this perspective, the end of socialism was one of the greatest humanitarian catastrophes in post-World War 2 history. All the while, the leaders of this dismantlement made a tremendous profit, becoming the new private owners of capital and gaining a stranglehold over post-socialist society. Everyone calls them "oligarchs," and unlike the businessmen of the West, they cannot claim to posses even a veneer of legitimacy regarding their wealth.
In Russia, this "shock therapy" was helmed by its first President: Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin, a former Party secretary turned "reformer" who cultivated a positive image of himself and his government to the West, having a rapport with President Clinton. Of course, the realities of his rule were far different. Yeltsin was incompetent at governance and, while not a true dictator, possessed authoritarian tendencies. In 1993, when the State Duma attempted to hold him accountable, he responded by shelling the building they were meeting in with tanks. By 1996, the tensions within Russian society had grown to the point where a motley alliance of Soviet nostalgiacs, chauvinistic nationalists, and dissident liberals had formed to challenge Yeltsin at the ballot box. In the end, the presidential election of 1996, contested between Yeltsin and Communist Party candidate Gennady Zyuganov, was only narrowly won by the incumbent. It was close enough that many allege that the CIA, as a favor from Clinton, had interfered to ensure Yeltsin gained a second term. All through Yeltsin's tenure, the emerging class of oligarchs continued to amass power.
It is in this climate that our current President, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, rose to power. A KGB agent well-versed in the art of deception, he was a surprise choice for Yeltsin's hand-picked successor. Over the next few years, he managed to grow Russia's economy, raise living standards, and bring stability to the nation's chaotic politics. In his first two terms he was viewed positively by the West, with only the 2005-2006 Georgian War blemishing his reputation. If he had retired after his second term, many would have considered him to be an effective leader.
Of course, he emphatically refused to retire, and in the next few years, his carefully-crafted charade was exposed. Putin was no skillful administrator. He had instead constructed a political house of cards out of Russia's ruling class, establishing an uneasy balance of power with the oligarchs by building personal report with them and playing them off against each other. All the while, he rewarded his inner circle with vast influence over the Russian state, promoting siloviki to many positions of power. He and his associates not only turned a blind eye to corruption, but personally profited from it, and I suspect that he is likely one of the richest men on Earth. Central to his rule was the slow expansion of the security apparatus, a process that had begun under Yeltsin's second term but accelerated under Putin. Through this, he strangled Russia's civil society in its crib, not in the service of any ideology, but only in the name of power. Russia's economic growth was also a charade - most of it came from the expansion of the energy sector, while other industries were entirely neglected.
By 2012, following the global financial recession and resulting collapse in oil prices that had crippled Russia's economy, the Russian people had reached the end of their rope. Following a blatantly fraudulent election where Putin returned to the presidency after a four year term as prime minister, hundreds of thousands marched out onto the streets in protest against Putin. It appeared that he had outworn his welcome, but as always, he had a trick up his sleeve, and events in a neighboring country two years later would grant him an opportunity. Following the Maidan Revolution in Ukraine, Putin reinvented himself as a "national conservative," annexing Crimea, sparking a separatist uprising in Donbass, and intensifying a culture war against the West and social liberalism. Many were deceived by his actions, and his popularity skyrocketed, despite newly-instated Western sanctions objectively worsening the material conditions of lower-class Russians. However, in the past few years, this stunt has begun to lose its luster. Russia's economy is in a period of stagnation, our social issues remain unresolved, and the government has recently passed multiple unpopular entitlement reforms. Putin's popularity has continually sunk, and recent revelations on the extent to which corruption permeates Russia's ruling class has angered many. With the recent pandemic having only accelerated these trends, I feel that a deft politician could launch a campaign against the regime, with popular support.
Perhaps that deft politician will be me.
Besides the Putinist United Russia Party, Russia's political scene has a controlled opposition: a set of political parties with representation in the Duma that provides an electoral outlet for discontent, yet remains covertly loyal to Putin and rubber-stamps his initiatives.
The most prominent opposition party is the Communist Party of the Russian Federation, an organization with a complex history. The average Leninist would be deeply confused by it. It is not a regimented vanguard party as it is a loose-knit coalition of different left-leaning interest groups who use "Communist" for brand value: reactionary Soviet nostalgiacs, Stalinists, youthful radicals, "democratic socialists," or even moderate social democrats who nonetheless do not have faith in the other opposition parties. Despite its radical appeal, the past two decades have made it clear that it is merely a controlled opposition party like all the rest. Its general-secretary, Gennady Zyuganov, is a regime stooge, and the leadership is married to blind idealization of the past with little vision for constructing a true socialism of the 21st, and not the 20th, century. However, in recent years many young, desperate activists have joined its ranks, and a confrontation with the leadership is quite possible. Perhaps the party's ideological incoherence could present an opportunity for someone to emerge and mold a new vision of left-wing politics in Russia.
The other two major opposition parties are seldom worth mentioning. The Liberal Democratic Party, chaired by the carnival showman Vladimir Zhirinovsky, is a ultranationalist populist party more known for absurd stunts than political activism, with most of its vote coming from disaffected citizens more interested in protesting the regime than promoting the party's ideology. "A Just Russia" is a toothless social democratic party covertly established by Putin to siphon left-liberal votes away from the Communist Party, and can't possibly amount to much.
It is clear that, despite its leadership, the Communist Party is the only viable vehicle for an opposition politician. Liberalism in Russia is fundamentally tainted, and the regime is quick to tar its enemies with allegations of being a Western-style liberal. It will be far more difficult for them to do so against one who drapes himself in the red banner of Marx and Lenin. Our only hope is that both Zyuganov and Zhirinovsky retire from politics in the next few years, and in doing so, create an opening for someone to fill.
June 24, 2021
Something that frustrates many foreign observers is Russia's enduring hostility towards liberalism and the West, sentiments shared both by the regime and the populace. Many have argued that the Russian people have an inherent fondness for strongmen and a disdain for basic freedoms, something that has endured through tsarism and socialism alike. This is a gross oversimplification of Russian history, but that is not something I wish to delve further. No, I wish to instead explain the sordid history of liberalism in modern Russia, and how that lead to the current regime.
Many are no doubt familiar with the concept of the "end of history" following the collapse of the Soviet Union. According to many, this event heralded the final victory of liberal capitalism over any of its ideological competitors, with the only future political conflict being its spread to the remaining anti-liberal holdouts in the Third World. In the newly reformed Russia and across the rest of the Eastern Bloc, former party officials reinvented themselves as liberal reformers, who gave the people in their home countries a promise: that the fall of Soviet socialism would lead to a freer and more prosperous future.
That it was yet another lie did not cross our minds. These "reformers" soon set out to privatize all sectors of the formerly socialist economy, an action that drove many enterprises into bankruptcy and caused the kind of deindustrialization that took decades to progress in the West to occur in only a few years. Social services were also cut, as the American-based neoclassical economists had ordained the free market to be supreme. Millions were driven into destitution, something that is reflected in most statistics of the period: unemployment, alcoholism, excess deaths, and crime skyrocketed while disposable income and birth rates collapsed. From this perspective, the end of socialism was one of the greatest humanitarian catastrophes in post-World War 2 history. All the while, the leaders of this dismantlement made a tremendous profit, becoming the new private owners of capital and gaining a stranglehold over post-socialist society. Everyone calls them "oligarchs," and unlike the businessmen of the West, they cannot claim to posses even a veneer of legitimacy regarding their wealth.
In Russia, this "shock therapy" was helmed by its first President: Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin, a former Party secretary turned "reformer" who cultivated a positive image of himself and his government to the West, having a rapport with President Clinton. Of course, the realities of his rule were far different. Yeltsin was incompetent at governance and, while not a true dictator, possessed authoritarian tendencies. In 1993, when the State Duma attempted to hold him accountable, he responded by shelling the building they were meeting in with tanks. By 1996, the tensions within Russian society had grown to the point where a motley alliance of Soviet nostalgiacs, chauvinistic nationalists, and dissident liberals had formed to challenge Yeltsin at the ballot box. In the end, the presidential election of 1996, contested between Yeltsin and Communist Party candidate Gennady Zyuganov, was only narrowly won by the incumbent. It was close enough that many allege that the CIA, as a favor from Clinton, had interfered to ensure Yeltsin gained a second term. All through Yeltsin's tenure, the emerging class of oligarchs continued to amass power.
It is in this climate that our current President, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, rose to power. A KGB agent well-versed in the art of deception, he was a surprise choice for Yeltsin's hand-picked successor. Over the next few years, he managed to grow Russia's economy, raise living standards, and bring stability to the nation's chaotic politics. In his first two terms he was viewed positively by the West, with only the 2005-2006 Georgian War blemishing his reputation. If he had retired after his second term, many would have considered him to be an effective leader.
Of course, he emphatically refused to retire, and in the next few years, his carefully-crafted charade was exposed. Putin was no skillful administrator. He had instead constructed a political house of cards out of Russia's ruling class, establishing an uneasy balance of power with the oligarchs by building personal report with them and playing them off against each other. All the while, he rewarded his inner circle with vast influence over the Russian state, promoting siloviki to many positions of power. He and his associates not only turned a blind eye to corruption, but personally profited from it, and I suspect that he is likely one of the richest men on Earth. Central to his rule was the slow expansion of the security apparatus, a process that had begun under Yeltsin's second term but accelerated under Putin. Through this, he strangled Russia's civil society in its crib, not in the service of any ideology, but only in the name of power. Russia's economic growth was also a charade - most of it came from the expansion of the energy sector, while other industries were entirely neglected.
By 2012, following the global financial recession and resulting collapse in oil prices that had crippled Russia's economy, the Russian people had reached the end of their rope. Following a blatantly fraudulent election where Putin returned to the presidency after a four year term as prime minister, hundreds of thousands marched out onto the streets in protest against Putin. It appeared that he had outworn his welcome, but as always, he had a trick up his sleeve, and events in a neighboring country two years later would grant him an opportunity. Following the Maidan Revolution in Ukraine, Putin reinvented himself as a "national conservative," annexing Crimea, sparking a separatist uprising in Donbass, and intensifying a culture war against the West and social liberalism. Many were deceived by his actions, and his popularity skyrocketed, despite newly-instated Western sanctions objectively worsening the material conditions of lower-class Russians. However, in the past few years, this stunt has begun to lose its luster. Russia's economy is in a period of stagnation, our social issues remain unresolved, and the government has recently passed multiple unpopular entitlement reforms. Putin's popularity has continually sunk, and recent revelations on the extent to which corruption permeates Russia's ruling class has angered many. With the recent pandemic having only accelerated these trends, I feel that a deft politician could launch a campaign against the regime, with popular support.
Perhaps that deft politician will be me.
Besides the Putinist United Russia Party, Russia's political scene has a controlled opposition: a set of political parties with representation in the Duma that provides an electoral outlet for discontent, yet remains covertly loyal to Putin and rubber-stamps his initiatives.
The most prominent opposition party is the Communist Party of the Russian Federation, an organization with a complex history. The average Leninist would be deeply confused by it. It is not a regimented vanguard party as it is a loose-knit coalition of different left-leaning interest groups who use "Communist" for brand value: reactionary Soviet nostalgiacs, Stalinists, youthful radicals, "democratic socialists," or even moderate social democrats who nonetheless do not have faith in the other opposition parties. Despite its radical appeal, the past two decades have made it clear that it is merely a controlled opposition party like all the rest. Its general-secretary, Gennady Zyuganov, is a regime stooge, and the leadership is married to blind idealization of the past with little vision for constructing a true socialism of the 21st, and not the 20th, century. However, in recent years many young, desperate activists have joined its ranks, and a confrontation with the leadership is quite possible. Perhaps the party's ideological incoherence could present an opportunity for someone to emerge and mold a new vision of left-wing politics in Russia.
The other two major opposition parties are seldom worth mentioning. The Liberal Democratic Party, chaired by the carnival showman Vladimir Zhirinovsky, is a ultranationalist populist party more known for absurd stunts than political activism, with most of its vote coming from disaffected citizens more interested in protesting the regime than promoting the party's ideology. "A Just Russia" is a toothless social democratic party covertly established by Putin to siphon left-liberal votes away from the Communist Party, and can't possibly amount to much.
It is clear that, despite its leadership, the Communist Party is the only viable vehicle for an opposition politician. Liberalism in Russia is fundamentally tainted, and the regime is quick to tar its enemies with allegations of being a Western-style liberal. It will be far more difficult for them to do so against one who drapes himself in the red banner of Marx and Lenin. Our only hope is that both Zyuganov and Zhirinovsky retire from politics in the next few years, and in doing so, create an opening for someone to fill.
Last edited:
Chapter 7.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
June 24, 2021
Downtown Novosibirsk
The streets were quiet when the beaten-down GAZ-3102 parked by the curb. Professor Shabayev exited cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any suspicious individuals. He had been to this part of the city a thousand times before, but he couldn't afford to keep his guard down. After the protests last January, you never knew if a siloviki was watching.
The Communist Party office was located in a non-descript building off the main boulevard. The sky was slightly cloudy, and the wind blew gently, as the Professor made his way to the entrance. The reception room was sparse, with only a Soviet-era propaganda poster decorating the bare walls. The receptionist was on break, but the Professor spotted a bored youth sitting in front of him. Upon the interloper's arrival, the youth looked up.
"Haven't seen you around here before. You new?," he asked.
"Correct," replied Shabayev. "I've heard that you're campaigning for the federal elections this September, and I have enough free time on my hands that I thought I could help out."
Upon this, the youth chuckled.
"This year's campaign is a joke. Everyone's been rattled by all the crackdowns this past few months. With all the new parties the government's approving, I expect a drubbing at the polls."
The youth paused.
"Wait, I forgot to ask: you got the vaccine?"
The Professor held up his medical bracelet.
"That makes you luckier than the rest of us," replied the youth. Shabayev thought for a few moments.
"To tell you the truth," he replied, "I'm not really interested in mere electioneering. I'm sick of living in an ivory tower, and I was hoping I could use this opportunity to speak to the people. To hear their concerns."
A moment passed.
"Apologies, I never got your name," said Shabayev.
"Maxim," replied the youth. "And you?"
"Dr. Emil Ilyich Shabayev, Professor of Sociology at the university," replied the Professor.
"An academic?," mused Maxim. "We don't get much of those here."
He paused.
"You know what, sure, your idea sounds interesting. Beats sitting around and being depressed. When do you have the time?"
"Every Saturday at 15," replied the Professor. The two talked for a few more minutes before Shabayev left the building. He felt a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach. It was very likely that continuing on this path could get him in jail, or worse. Then again, he wasn't sure if staying by the sidelines would make him feel any better. Regardless, he had a long way ahead of him, and it would take him a while to find his footing.
Downtown Novosibirsk
The streets were quiet when the beaten-down GAZ-3102 parked by the curb. Professor Shabayev exited cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any suspicious individuals. He had been to this part of the city a thousand times before, but he couldn't afford to keep his guard down. After the protests last January, you never knew if a siloviki was watching.
The Communist Party office was located in a non-descript building off the main boulevard. The sky was slightly cloudy, and the wind blew gently, as the Professor made his way to the entrance. The reception room was sparse, with only a Soviet-era propaganda poster decorating the bare walls. The receptionist was on break, but the Professor spotted a bored youth sitting in front of him. Upon the interloper's arrival, the youth looked up.
"Haven't seen you around here before. You new?," he asked.
"Correct," replied Shabayev. "I've heard that you're campaigning for the federal elections this September, and I have enough free time on my hands that I thought I could help out."
Upon this, the youth chuckled.
"This year's campaign is a joke. Everyone's been rattled by all the crackdowns this past few months. With all the new parties the government's approving, I expect a drubbing at the polls."
The youth paused.
"Wait, I forgot to ask: you got the vaccine?"
The Professor held up his medical bracelet.
"That makes you luckier than the rest of us," replied the youth. Shabayev thought for a few moments.
"To tell you the truth," he replied, "I'm not really interested in mere electioneering. I'm sick of living in an ivory tower, and I was hoping I could use this opportunity to speak to the people. To hear their concerns."
A moment passed.
"Apologies, I never got your name," said Shabayev.
"Maxim," replied the youth. "And you?"
"Dr. Emil Ilyich Shabayev, Professor of Sociology at the university," replied the Professor.
"An academic?," mused Maxim. "We don't get much of those here."
He paused.
"You know what, sure, your idea sounds interesting. Beats sitting around and being depressed. When do you have the time?"
"Every Saturday at 15," replied the Professor. The two talked for a few more minutes before Shabayev left the building. He felt a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach. It was very likely that continuing on this path could get him in jail, or worse. Then again, he wasn't sure if staying by the sidelines would make him feel any better. Regardless, he had a long way ahead of him, and it would take him a while to find his footing.
Last edited:
Chapter 7.3
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
June 25, 2021
Najaf, Iraq
Ruza's feet ached as she made her way through the streets under the harsh midday sun, her simple headscarf and outfit standing out among the more conservatively dressed women she passed. She only had an address written on a scrap of paper to guide her, and the locals' dialect was nigh-incomprehensible to her. She hugged her briefcase close to her body, knowing how easy it was for a thief to make off with it. Miraculously, she eventually found the street that the paper indicated. The two-story house was surprisingly well-kempt, a testament to the owners' prudence. Ruza paused on the entrance, filled with anxiety. To her, Aunt Maryam and her family existed only in the stories her father had told her. According to him, they were true comrades and experienced activists, and they would move mountains to look after her. Pushing away the twinge of pain that came whenever she thought of him, she knocked on the door.
A few seconds later, it opened by a crack, as a single eye peered out, ensuring that the visitor was not a potential enemy.
"Who goes there?," asked a male voice behind the door.
"It's Hassan's daughter from Lebanon," stammed Ruza. "He told me to find you."
She heard a click as the chain lock slid open, followed by the door opening. A man in his twenties, sporting a modest beard, stood in the doorway.
"Ruza, is it? I assume you've never met me. I am George, your cousin. Come, your aunt is waiting."
Ruza slowly moved through the doorway. The interior was humbly decorated, the living room containing a few chairs and tapestries. Passing through, Ruza was taken to a study, adorned with a well-stocked bookshelf and an office desk, currently with an occupant. She was a woman in her early fifties, slightly older than her father, dressed in a humble set of robes to keep out the heat. Upon Ruza's arrival, she looked up, and asked a single word:
"Hassan?"
Ruza could no longer hold back her tears.
"The Israelis got him... I heard them speaking Russian," she blubbered.
"Of course it was the Russians," murmured Aunt Maryam, a few tears falling down her face. She moved to embrace Ruza, the two of them mourning in silence. A few minutes later, Maryam released her niece.
"I..."
She paused, her voice cracking.
"I wish I could say something that could help..."
Another pause.
"But I do want you to know that he died a hero. I still remember when he and I were refugees in the first Civil War, when our own parents had been claimed by the artillery of a sectarian militia. We've spent years in the shadows, bemoaning the state of our homeland as these corrupt monsters stole our lives and livelihoods. Hasan... he did not live to see an Arab world free from terror and hatred, but, at the very least, he was able to avenge our loss. "
She paused again.
"I'm sorry for what you have been through. Rest assured, I will take care of you, and train you to take up his cause. It's what he would have wanted. Come now, we have much to do."
On this day, Ruza resolved that she would never let herself become yet another victim.
Najaf, Iraq
Ruza's feet ached as she made her way through the streets under the harsh midday sun, her simple headscarf and outfit standing out among the more conservatively dressed women she passed. She only had an address written on a scrap of paper to guide her, and the locals' dialect was nigh-incomprehensible to her. She hugged her briefcase close to her body, knowing how easy it was for a thief to make off with it. Miraculously, she eventually found the street that the paper indicated. The two-story house was surprisingly well-kempt, a testament to the owners' prudence. Ruza paused on the entrance, filled with anxiety. To her, Aunt Maryam and her family existed only in the stories her father had told her. According to him, they were true comrades and experienced activists, and they would move mountains to look after her. Pushing away the twinge of pain that came whenever she thought of him, she knocked on the door.
A few seconds later, it opened by a crack, as a single eye peered out, ensuring that the visitor was not a potential enemy.
"Who goes there?," asked a male voice behind the door.
"It's Hassan's daughter from Lebanon," stammed Ruza. "He told me to find you."
She heard a click as the chain lock slid open, followed by the door opening. A man in his twenties, sporting a modest beard, stood in the doorway.
"Ruza, is it? I assume you've never met me. I am George, your cousin. Come, your aunt is waiting."
Ruza slowly moved through the doorway. The interior was humbly decorated, the living room containing a few chairs and tapestries. Passing through, Ruza was taken to a study, adorned with a well-stocked bookshelf and an office desk, currently with an occupant. She was a woman in her early fifties, slightly older than her father, dressed in a humble set of robes to keep out the heat. Upon Ruza's arrival, she looked up, and asked a single word:
"Hassan?"
Ruza could no longer hold back her tears.
"The Israelis got him... I heard them speaking Russian," she blubbered.
"Of course it was the Russians," murmured Aunt Maryam, a few tears falling down her face. She moved to embrace Ruza, the two of them mourning in silence. A few minutes later, Maryam released her niece.
"I..."
She paused, her voice cracking.
"I wish I could say something that could help..."
Another pause.
"But I do want you to know that he died a hero. I still remember when he and I were refugees in the first Civil War, when our own parents had been claimed by the artillery of a sectarian militia. We've spent years in the shadows, bemoaning the state of our homeland as these corrupt monsters stole our lives and livelihoods. Hasan... he did not live to see an Arab world free from terror and hatred, but, at the very least, he was able to avenge our loss. "
She paused again.
"I'm sorry for what you have been through. Rest assured, I will take care of you, and train you to take up his cause. It's what he would have wanted. Come now, we have much to do."
On this day, Ruza resolved that she would never let herself become yet another victim.
Last edited:
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
Wait and see. I will say that not everything is going to be miserable. My original ideas for the timeline were like that but then I realized that they'd be way too depressing and would make for a bad story.
Pempelune
Fanfiction Deep State
I'm excited to see where our Russian academic goes. Can't say I wouldn't enjoy seeing Putin go down, as well.
By the way, have you considered posting this in the Future History forum of alternatehistory.com? I think you might garner more attention there than here.
By the way, have you considered posting this in the Future History forum of alternatehistory.com? I think you might garner more attention there than here.
Last edited:
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
I thought that AH.com has problems in its community, judging by all the authors from there that came here. From what I've seen AH.com isn't nearly as active as it used to be, and I prefer SV's alt history community.
- Location
- France
- Pronouns
- She/They
Yeah the AH.com community is lackluster, even if it's still pretty active.
SLP is decent, if you don't mind British liberals.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
- Location
- France
- Pronouns
- She/They
Sea Lion Press forum.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
I am leaning towards eventually trying to publish LtWP through SLP. However, I honestly would prefer to keep the online version to a single forum. It's easier that way.
Chapter 8.1 - Descent and Ascent
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
July 28, 2021
Albany, New York
Julian Montfort leaned back in his seat. The others would not arrive for a few more minutes. He might as well enjoy the view from the high-rise. The summer sun shone over Albany, an island of glass and concrete in a sea of green. In his opinion, upstate New York was a tragically overlooked place. The roads were clear, the scenery was gorgeous, and, during the fall, the trees would turn a haunting orange shade. On the other hand, the middle of a hot summer was not the best time to visit. Business was business, however.
The guests finally entered the conference room. Julian's eye wandered over them. They were smartly dressed, deliberate in their motions, and wore hollow expressions on their faces. Hollow men for hollow places, thought Julian. All except for one. Former Colonel Michael Perle stood above the group like an eagle perched on a high branch. A fitting description, considering his career. Recalling it, many labels came to Julian's mind. Newly-minted Democrat. Strategist. "Never-Trumper." Bush staffer. Iraq War advisor. Patriot. A man whose convictions would be of great use to him.
"Take a seat, gentlemen," commanded Julian. The guests complied, and Colonel Perle glanced at Julian.
"I'll spare you the pleasantries. The midterms are more than a year away, and yet, the Democratic Party has come to me to help them raise funds. What can I say? I applaud you for your initiative."
Julian paused, taking a sip from a glass of water.
"Now, before we discuss the specifics of my offer, I would like to remind you what threats our nation and the world is facing."
He activated a projector, which displayed news coverage of the ongoing protests in China. The wildcat strikes had spread to more than thirty major cities across the coast, and there were rumors that the urban workers in the interior provinces might join them.
"This year has seen multiple uprisings shake the world. The current situation in China, riots in the United States, and even a communist revolution in the Middle East. This is only a harbinger of the chaos that is to come in the next decades. In these trying times, we need strong, decisive leadership, and I believe men like Colonel Perle will rise to the task."
Julian nodded at Perle. This bombastic introduction over, Julian and his guests then spent the next hour discussing the nitty-gritty details of their political partnership - the funds that Julian could make available for the Democrats, and any other assistance he could provide. Eventually, the guests left, their negotiations concluded. Before he left, Colonel Perle took Julian aside.
"I like your attitude, Julian. God knows this country needs people like you."
The Colonel then slipped Julian a business card.
"Looking forward to working with you," he said, as he left.
"You too," replied Julian.
Albany, New York
Julian Montfort leaned back in his seat. The others would not arrive for a few more minutes. He might as well enjoy the view from the high-rise. The summer sun shone over Albany, an island of glass and concrete in a sea of green. In his opinion, upstate New York was a tragically overlooked place. The roads were clear, the scenery was gorgeous, and, during the fall, the trees would turn a haunting orange shade. On the other hand, the middle of a hot summer was not the best time to visit. Business was business, however.
The guests finally entered the conference room. Julian's eye wandered over them. They were smartly dressed, deliberate in their motions, and wore hollow expressions on their faces. Hollow men for hollow places, thought Julian. All except for one. Former Colonel Michael Perle stood above the group like an eagle perched on a high branch. A fitting description, considering his career. Recalling it, many labels came to Julian's mind. Newly-minted Democrat. Strategist. "Never-Trumper." Bush staffer. Iraq War advisor. Patriot. A man whose convictions would be of great use to him.
"Take a seat, gentlemen," commanded Julian. The guests complied, and Colonel Perle glanced at Julian.
"I'll spare you the pleasantries. The midterms are more than a year away, and yet, the Democratic Party has come to me to help them raise funds. What can I say? I applaud you for your initiative."
Julian paused, taking a sip from a glass of water.
"Now, before we discuss the specifics of my offer, I would like to remind you what threats our nation and the world is facing."
He activated a projector, which displayed news coverage of the ongoing protests in China. The wildcat strikes had spread to more than thirty major cities across the coast, and there were rumors that the urban workers in the interior provinces might join them.
"This year has seen multiple uprisings shake the world. The current situation in China, riots in the United States, and even a communist revolution in the Middle East. This is only a harbinger of the chaos that is to come in the next decades. In these trying times, we need strong, decisive leadership, and I believe men like Colonel Perle will rise to the task."
Julian nodded at Perle. This bombastic introduction over, Julian and his guests then spent the next hour discussing the nitty-gritty details of their political partnership - the funds that Julian could make available for the Democrats, and any other assistance he could provide. Eventually, the guests left, their negotiations concluded. Before he left, Colonel Perle took Julian aside.
"I like your attitude, Julian. God knows this country needs people like you."
The Colonel then slipped Julian a business card.
"Looking forward to working with you," he said, as he left.
"You too," replied Julian.
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Chapter 8.2
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
August 13, 2021
United Nations Headquarters
General Krautmann gathered his composure. In only a few minutes, he would be called to speak in front of the entire General Assembly. No doubt he would face a gauntlet of criticism from a significant portion of the members. He had long ago made peace with the fact that other nations would constantly challenge his homeland's sovereignty. He had also long ago stopped caring about what they thought. Israel's allies would stand firm against its enemies, through hell and high water.
An aide called for the General. He stepped onto the assembly stage, moving towards the podium, while the gazes of hundreds were upon him. He arrived, took a moment to catch his breath, then spoke.
"Representatives of the United Nations, I come today to testify on the recent military operation in Lebanon, and our continued presence there."
He paused, and when he continued, his words flowed smoothly.
"For decades, Lebanon, a nation directly bordering Israel, has been a hotbed of instability. It has sheltered hostile paramilitaries and violent terrorists alike, and Israel has often needed to take decisive action against it-"
The representatives appeared more and more hostile with each sentence.
"-for its own security. In the First Lebanese Civil War, militants affiliated with the Palestinian Liberation Organization used Lebanon as a base to launch terrorist attacks into the Israeli heartland, and we had no choice but to respond with force. When Hezbollah threatened the peace following the assassination of Prime Minister Hairi, Israel was once again required to intervene. And when Lebanon fell into a civil war for a second war, Israel acted decisively to end the conflict before it could threaten the stability of the entire Middle East. This time, the circumstances make a retreat untenable. The Lebanese Communist Party has wiped out any political figures who could take charge of Lebanon. In light of this, Israel has decided-"
The General paused, for effect.
"-that the occupation of Lebanon will continue indefinitely, until stability has returned to the nation and all threats to our security have been eliminated. There will be no fourth intervention."
The representatives were shocked. Despite Israel's tumultuous history with the Palestinians, it had never shown much interest in occupying land outside of its claimed borders. That had changed, and no one knew what it would bring. Krautmann was greeted with jeers when he left the podium. He scoffed at them. In his eyes, the Communists had forced Israel's hand. They wanted to make us villains, he thought. Perhaps we have no other choice.
United Nations Headquarters
General Krautmann gathered his composure. In only a few minutes, he would be called to speak in front of the entire General Assembly. No doubt he would face a gauntlet of criticism from a significant portion of the members. He had long ago made peace with the fact that other nations would constantly challenge his homeland's sovereignty. He had also long ago stopped caring about what they thought. Israel's allies would stand firm against its enemies, through hell and high water.
An aide called for the General. He stepped onto the assembly stage, moving towards the podium, while the gazes of hundreds were upon him. He arrived, took a moment to catch his breath, then spoke.
"Representatives of the United Nations, I come today to testify on the recent military operation in Lebanon, and our continued presence there."
He paused, and when he continued, his words flowed smoothly.
"For decades, Lebanon, a nation directly bordering Israel, has been a hotbed of instability. It has sheltered hostile paramilitaries and violent terrorists alike, and Israel has often needed to take decisive action against it-"
The representatives appeared more and more hostile with each sentence.
"-for its own security. In the First Lebanese Civil War, militants affiliated with the Palestinian Liberation Organization used Lebanon as a base to launch terrorist attacks into the Israeli heartland, and we had no choice but to respond with force. When Hezbollah threatened the peace following the assassination of Prime Minister Hairi, Israel was once again required to intervene. And when Lebanon fell into a civil war for a second war, Israel acted decisively to end the conflict before it could threaten the stability of the entire Middle East. This time, the circumstances make a retreat untenable. The Lebanese Communist Party has wiped out any political figures who could take charge of Lebanon. In light of this, Israel has decided-"
The General paused, for effect.
"-that the occupation of Lebanon will continue indefinitely, until stability has returned to the nation and all threats to our security have been eliminated. There will be no fourth intervention."
The representatives were shocked. Despite Israel's tumultuous history with the Palestinians, it had never shown much interest in occupying land outside of its claimed borders. That had changed, and no one knew what it would bring. Krautmann was greeted with jeers when he left the podium. He scoffed at them. In his eyes, the Communists had forced Israel's hand. They wanted to make us villains, he thought. Perhaps we have no other choice.
- Location
- Orlando, Florida
It's complicated by the fact that they're trying to surpress literal communists. Even their traditional adversaries in the Middle East would probably consider an Israeli intervention the lesser evil compared to a successful communist revolution, and what that would mean for them. Of course, many other parts of the world don't see things that way.
- Location
- somewhere on this dying planet
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Never underestimate how far the United States is willing to go in order to