Headlines from California
United States House of Representative Formally Introduces Articles of Impeachment Against Lewis Cass – LA Times, September 16th, 1853
Live: Angeles National Forest Wildfire Grows to 1500 Acres, Fire is Believed to be Caused by a Helicopter Crash - CNN, September 18th, 1853
737 MAX Lands Safely After Bird Strike Causes A ‘Wild Roller Coaster Ride’ After Take Off From LAX - LA Times, September 25th, 1853
737 MAX Grounded: NTSB Renews Calls For Proper Equipment - Sacramento Bee, September 27th, 1853
Homeless Advocacy Group “Everyone In LA” Wins Lawsuit Against County Board of Supervisors, Event-Displaced Housing Units to be Made Available to Pre-Event Homeless People - LA Times, October 5th, 1853
The Institution: Inside The New Orleans Slave Auctions. - KCET Frontline & ProPublica, October 7th 1853
The E-12 Reconnaissance Plane: Is California’s First Post-Event Aircraft a Reengineered U-2? - Aviation Week & Space Technology - October 9th, 1853
Los Feel-us or Los Fuh-leez? A Los Angeles Pronunciation Guide for Downtimers. - Curbed LA - October 10th, 1853
Headlines from Around the World
Photographs Taken By California’s Satellites Show Storms Forming Over Atlantic, California Weather Center Issues Hurricane Watch for Virginia Beach, Newport News, and Norfolk Virginia - Virginia Freedman - August 28th, 1853
US Army Announces Plans to Counter California’s Use of Satellites With Tarps - Philadelphia Inquirer - September 14th, 1853
Fight Breaks Out In House of Representatives After Articles of Impeachment Are Introduced - New York Tribune - September 18th, 1853
Six US Navy Ships Lost With All Hands Near Cape Horn: Boiler Explosions and Foul Weather Suspected – Washington Globe - September 19th, 1853
Man Convicted Of Selling ‘Snake Oil’ As a Miracle ‘Cure-All’ From California That Made Dozens Ill - New York Tribune - September 20th, 1853
Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert to visit the Californian Embassy - The Times - September 21st, 1853
Special Edition: Snapshots of the Heavens - Mondmonat - October 1st, 1853
USS Mississippi - Strait of Magellan - 6:25 PM, September 13th, 1853
Commodore Matthew Perry watched his fleet of eight ships sail in a tight formation through the narrow straight. Originally he was supposed to have led a fleet to Japan, to Edo Bay, as a show of force to say “Knock knock, it’s the United States,” and open the country to commerce.
Unfortunately, not only did California beat him to Japan, but California had declared independence from the United States resulting in him having to command a fleet of ships as part of a blockade of Californian ports.
It was no secret that there were high ranking people in the United States government that felt this blockade was a bad idea. Most of them thought that blockading California was unfeasible, but others, such as Commodore La Vallette, were concerned that a blockade would mean pulling ships off of his Africa Squadron, where they were already spread thin interdicting the slave trade.
Perry looked out across the horizon at the mountains surrounding the strait, and at the Mississippi’s sister ships Susquehanna, Powhatan and Water Witch. Further behind them was the Pennsylvania, the lead ship of the line, along with her attendant frigates, the United States, Independence, and Raritan. The Strait itself was one of the more difficult places on earth to navigate, with its unpredictable weather, strong winds and narrow passageways.
Even when the expedition had set out for the cape, there had been the unanswered question of how they were going to round the horn. The Pennsylvania’s captain wanted to go further south to the Drake Passage, the wide gap between Tierra del Fuego to the north and the South Shetland Islands of Antarctica to the south. The strong gales around Cape Horn would make navigating the Strait of Magellan treacherous for a sailing ship, as a strong enough gust could easily send a ship aground, so Captain William F. Lynch of the USS Pennsylvania had argued in favor of the Drake Passage, as it would give his ships more room to maneuver.
Perry wanted to use the Strait of Magellan, as the calmer seas of the strait were better for his steamers, as the rough seas of the Drake Passage would wreak havoc on the paddlewheel steamers.
In the end, Perry was the one in charge of the fleet, and he ordered his ships to follow the Mississippi through the strait and remain in tight formation.
“Three quarters speed!” Yelled the navigator. “Come 20 degrees starboard!”
Up ahead, Carlos III Island loomed before them. This was the narrowest part of the strait, where there was very little room to maneuver around shoals, and where they were at the greatest risk from Williwaws, sudden gusts of gale-force wind out of the mountains.
As the Mississippi began to turn to avoid the Island in front of them, one of the sailors on the foredeck noticed what he thought was a dolphin swimming towards them at a great speed under the water.
Before he could call it out, however, the ship was rocked by an enormous underwater explosion. The keel of the Mississippi, having already been weakened when the ship ran aground in Smyrna 2 years earlier, snapped into two pieces. All around the ship, an enormous column of seawater shot up into the air around the Mississippi reaching a good hundred feet high before falling back down as a cloud of spray.
The boiler room, having been directly over where the torpedo exploded, had suffered the worst damage. The boilers and fireboxes were thrown upwards through the Mississippi’s deck and burst open, causing the burning coal from the fireboxes to land all over the ship, igniting more of the deck.
With the keel broken, the Mississippi’s remaining warped and broken timbers could not keep the ship together, and they too began to splinter and break until the ship had completely broken in half.
Behind the Mississippi, the Susquehanna had begun a hard turn to port to avoid the sinking Mississippi, but was too close to the lead ship to fully evade, as such, the port paddlewheel struck the stern of the Mississippi, breaking it. With the port paddlewheel no longer working, but the starboard wheel still working, the Susquehanna began to make an uncontrolled starboard turn into the wreckage of the Mississippi. The burning coals from the Mississippi’s fireboxes found their way into the Susquehanna, where they began to cause fires along its wooden decking.
Astern of the Susquehanna, the Powhatan and the Water Witch had also begun evasive maneuvers to avoid crashing into the growing conflagration. Both of the ships had begun to slow down and stop in order to render assistance to the Mississippi and Susquehanna.
Minutes later, with the Powhatan and the Water Witch so close to the now burning wreck, the dozens of sailors aboard the two burning ships clung to any piece of driftwood they could find to get away from the wreck, and to try and get to safety aboard the other two steamers.
It was at this point that the fire reached the Susquehanna’s powder magazine.
The gunpowder stored in the powder room ignited within seconds, turning the ship’s supply of gunpowder into very hot gas that expanded rapidly. The explosion turned the timbers around the powder room into razor-sharp fragments, and launched them outwards in all directions, including towards the crews of the Powhatan and Water Witch, many of whom had been on the decks of their respective ships in order to try and rescue the survivors of the Mississippi and Susquenhanna. Dozens of sailors were killed instantly from the flying shrapnel, dozens more would be fatally injured.
The explosion of the powder magazine had sent flaming debris from the Susquehanna towards the Powhatan, which had in turn ignited its own rigging.
As the remaining crew of the Powhatan ran topside to start extinguishing the flames on the rigging, a sudden gust of wind whipped up and blew embers from the Powhatan to the Water Witch.
Further behind the four steamships were the sailing ships. Watching the commotion happen from afar, the Pennsylvania’s captain ordered his ships to hold position away from the burning wrecks and send gigs out to recover survivors.
Unfortunately a burst of wind through the mountains got the better of them. On open seas, a burst of wind causing a ship to be blown off course wasn’t a huge deal, as a skilled navigator could compensate for it. It was then poor luck that the Pennsylvania was hit by a sudden gale in one of the narrowest parts of the strait.
With the winds pushing the Pennsylvania across the narrow ocean channel, and the crew distracted by watching the burning wrecks of the four steamers, the ship was forced into shallower waters until eventually, she struck a shoal. The Pennsylvania’s crew, had they been more experienced, would have been able to avoid such a fate, but the Pennsylvania’s entire service history prior to this had been a single voyage from the Philadelphia Navy Yard to Norfolk Navy Yard, whereupon she sat in the harbor and acted as a floating barracks for new sailors in Norfolk before being assigned to other ships.
Because of this, the crew assigned to the Pennsylvania was inexperienced in sailing her, and her Captain equally inexperienced in commanding a ship this size, owing to the Pennsylvania’s large size compared to all other ships of the line in the US Navy.
The frigates behind her were also caught by the williwaw and were pushed towards the submerged rocks in the strait. The Raritan, being the closest to the shoreline, was the first to run aground. The shoals of the strait punctured the hull of the Raritan, impaling it on a rocky spear and trapping it in place within the strait.
Of the seven ships that entered the strait of Magellan, only one ship, the USS Independence, would leave it.
9002 N Mariposa Ave, East Hollywood, Los Angeles
Casey sat at the digital piano in the common room, playing a few notes here and there before turning to his laptop to jot down his ideas into a sheet music program. When he had lived on his own in uptime Nashville, he had regularly struggled to come up with new melodies and ideas, which was why he came to California in the first place, intent on finding like-minded people to meet and bounce ideas off of. Sadly, the cost of living was high enough that he had considered moving back to Tennessee... until the Event happened. Strangely enough, this ended up being somewhat of a boon in terms of living costs, as publicly owned housing became commonplace. And while individual homes were available, many creative-types like himself tended to flock to communal living spaces. A few years later, he found himself sharing space with three other tenants, all downtimers with a fascination for music. Only one, an escaped slave by the name of Michael, lacked prior music education, though the man in question had a natural gift for melody. With plenty of like minds to collaborate with, Casey had never felt more creative.
“Hello, Casey? Do you have a minute?”
A familiar voice in slightly accented English distracted him from his composing; looking toward the door, he saw Kiril standing there with a strange teenage boy. Kiril—or “Rill”, as he was commonly known since coming to California—was a Russian downtimer and violinist who had chosen to immigrate after being wowed by the Roosevelt. The teen was new.
“What's up, Rill? Who's this?”
Kiril shrugged. “He was wandering around the area looking for a place to stay. Apparently he came straight from the Motherland after his parents threw him out.”
“Menyá zovút Dmitri,” the teen said hesitantly.
Casey didn't know any Russian beyond a few key phrases, but he knew enough to understand the greeting. “That's not his name,” he said, looking at Kiril.
“Nope, he's a terrible liar. I'm not surprised that he's afraid to say it; a lot of people like him are afraid of rejection. I remember being like that at first.”
Ah, so that's why he was thrown out, Casey realized. “Kinda young to realize he's gay, though, isn't he?”
“You wouldn't get it, you're straight,” Kiril said jokingly. “I knew I was different around that time. It's not surprising at all to me.”
A thought occurred to Casey. “He's not in the system, is he.”
Kiril shook his head with a frown. Casey wasn't sure why the teen wasn't placed in foster care, but he understood full well why he wouldn't want to be. The care of orphans had come a long way very quickly since the Event, but there was still a long way to go, and there were still enough problems with the system that could easily mess up a kid in ways that couldn't be fixed. “Dmitri” wouldn't know that, but considering he'd been thrown out—as well as the nature of orphanages in the downtime world—it was obvious why the boy wouldn't want anything to do with that system. That being said...
“Why here, though?”
“Because he saw me playing on the street corner and asked where I lived,” Kiril responded. “Apparently he played the piano back in Russia and wondered if a fellow Russian music lover could help him out.”
“Piano, huh...” Casey said, looking at the boy whose eyes were now fixed upon the keyboard with wonder and curiosity. After a few moments, he stood up from the bench and opened it, pulling out some sheet music before closing it and gesturing from the boy to the keys. “Well, let's see how good he is. Wonder how he'd handle some Final Fantasy?”
A few moments' hesitation occurred before Dmitri recognized the invitation and slowly sat down at the piano. Pressing a single key, the boy looked up in shock at the idea that something without strings or hammers could make such a perfect reproduction of a grand piano. After this initial shock passed, he glanced at the music for a few moments... and began to play. Before long, the teen was delivering a rapturous rendition of “To Zanarkand”, with only a few stumbles here and there due to the level of the piece. Whoever Dmitri was, he was quite advanced and had clearly had formal education from an early age.
“Neveroyatno! Akkordy strannyye, khotya. Yest' yeshche chto-nibud'?”
Kiril quickly translated. “He says it's incredible, but the chord progression is a little odd to him. He also wants to know if there's anything else like that.”
Casey chuckled. “Plenty. Of course, we'll need to get some paperwork done if he's going to live here.”
I always enjoy seeing downtimers react to Uematsu, Casey thought.
I wonder what he'll think of John Williams?
In-N-Out Burger - Barstow, CA
By virtue of being smack dab in the middle of LA and Nevada, Barstow had served as a link between Las Vegas and Los Angeles in Lost History, having enjoyed modest success in that time, and a modest population of about 23,392 residents in 2018.
Post Event, Barstow had grown into a city of its own, being the first leg out of LA, and one of California’s new manufacturing hubs, ballooning to 72,284 residents and growing, with many people, uptime and downtime, moving to find work in the new factories popping up, cashing in on the sudden growth of the city, or simply commuting to the other hubs.
In another life, the In-N-Out in Barstow had been a popular stop for people travelling between LA and Vegas, being either the first or the last place one could order a Double Double with Animal Fries. Now, however, it had become a popular hangout for newcomers, commuters and residents alike: from workers unwinding after a shift and downtime migrants coming in through the western border of California.
“Guest number twenty four please, guest number twenty four!” Yelled the worker behind the counter.
Away from the counter, in one of the white and red plastic booths, Tom Calvert, Cheryl Bailey, Hana Bashur, and Colin Wallis were unwinding after their shifts.
“What number are we?” Asked Tom to the rest of the people at his table.
“41.” Replied Cheryl as he took a sip of his drink.
“So what do they have you guys working on?” Tom asked.
“Grizzly Arms got us working on making new guns off of the parts of the old ones.” Hana replied, stretching her arms out while doing so. “Thank Allah for laser scanning.”
“They’re not designing new ones?” Cheryl asked.
“We already reached peak firearm in 2004.” Said Hana. “Only thing we’re doing now is to make sure that they don’t jam, break, or misfire during use, idiot proofing is another manner entirely.” She joked.
“How about you?” Asked Hana, looking over at Cheryl, “ What do they have you working on?”
“We’re setting up a battery pack assembly line for the new Tacomas.” She replied. “It’s supposed to make better batteries than anything else available, assuming we ever get it working.”
“Most likely, they’ll add more of those tiny cells into the battery pack, at least as a stopgap.” Colin said. “Though I work with microchips, not batteries.”
“Wait, you work at CalSemi?” Hana asked? “What do you do there?”
“Mostly stuff relating to chip fabs.” Said Colin. “We’re making a bunch of one-offs for the military in order to keep their equipment going.”
“Really?” Asked Tom.
“Oh yeah, things like the MOS 6502 that they used to use in the Apple II are designed into a lot of hardware so they want to have spares.” He replied.
“I thought y’all were making the new CPUs for PCs?” Asked Cheryl.
“To be clear, the big fabs in Sunnyvale and Fremont are where we’re making the high performance stuff.” Said Colin. “Barstow and Redlands are focused on specialty chips for the DOD.”
“And you Tom?” Asked Hana. “What does Tutor-Perini have you working on?”
“I’m on my way to Vegas for another CEQA review on the New Hoover Dam project.” Tom replied.
“I thought the dam was exempt from CEQA, something about it being similar enough to the existing Dam?” Asked Colin.
“It is, but there’s been some new change orders to deal with some of the geotechnical findings, so we have to go up to new vegas and see if those changes will still qualify us for the ‘significant similarity’ exemption.” Explained Calvert.
“Order number 41 please! Order number 41!” Yelled a voice from the counter.
“That’s us.” Said Cheryl, getting up from the table.
“Finally!” Said Hana. “I haven’t had a double double in ages.”
As Cheryl walked back with the trays of their order, Hana got up to grab a refill of her drink.
“What’d I miss?” Said Cheryl.
“Not much, just Hana saying how she hadn’t had a double double in ages.” Replied Colin.
“Well, bon appetit everyone.” Said Calvert.
House of Representatives - Washington DC - September 16th, 1853
The tension within the House was so great, that one could walk on it. All of that tension could be traced to three main factors:
The first factor, and one that had been a constant between Lost History and now, was the problem of slavery. The slavocracy of the South would never compromise on anything that even had the implication of negatively affecting their own power and status quo.
The second factor was California. On one hand, California was the way of the future, with all sorts of technology that could very well be witchcraft if presented in any other way. On the other hand, by the standards of downtime, California was a land of radical beliefs, and would not accept anything that could be seen as pandering towards slavery.
And the third factor, and one that had kicked off everything in the past two years, was the compromise of 1851. The compromise, better known as The Devil’s Bargain, sought to appease the south by limiting the voice of California, by ignoring the census information that the Californian delegation submitted in favor of the census taken in California prior to their arrival. Instead of creating peace, it had only intensified the conflict between the abolitionists and slaveowners. This was only further intensified with Lewis Cass winning the White House in spite of losing the popular vote by a landslide and the ensuing series of escalating controversies that created the current crisis.
All of this culminated in the downing of Flight 1312, in which nearly 300 people, including multiple dignitaries from three of the five major powers, had met a fiery end at the hands of an unfortunate cannon crew, possibly turning America into an international pariah.
Saying that this possibility would be bad for the US--not only in the short term, but in the long term as well--would be the greatest understatement of the century, which was why some drastic action had to be taken.
This was a sentiment echoed not only by the abolitionists, but also by the businessmen of the North, and Texas of all states. That was why Representative Gerrit Smith (FS, New York) and several other Free Soilers stood before the house as the leader of the House Judiciary Committee. Emperor Cass had almost irreparably damaged America’s standing on the world stage, and there was only one thing to be done.
“Gentlemen. As you are all aware, we are in the middle of an existential crisis only surpassed by the events of our Lost History.” Smith started. “The actions of President Cass, who thinks himself an emperor, has caused us the loss of California, and our international reputation with it.”
Smith paused to take a sip of water from a canteen that he had placed on the table in front of him.
“We should be lucky that the British and French haven’t declared war on us for killing their diplomats, and that California has not targeted our cities with their planes. And frankly, we should not push that luck. That is why the House Judiciary committee has decided to present its articles of impeachment.”
The House stood silent at the mention of Impeachment, as nothing of that level had happened outside of Lost History.
“This committee sees fit to impeach Cass for multiple abuses of power, and the violation amendments 9 and 10 of the constitution. No other President in our history has so blatantly disrespected the Constitution, the
very foundation of our government, as blatantly as President Cass had done in the past six months, and Cass must learn that his actions have consequences. That is why these articles have been brought before the house, and why Cass must stand trial before Congress.”
“But is Cass not simply doing his job?” asked Representative Toombs (D, Georgia).
“If President Cass was doing his job appropriately, we would not have this cavalcade of nonsense, bigotry, and pure stupidity that has led us to this current crisis.” Representative George Washington Julian (FS, Indiana) snapped. “That is why Emperor Cass needs to learn that his actions have consequences.”
As he finished his statement, a chair to the head cut him off.
His attacker, Smith Miller (D, Indiana), moved to strike a second blow with the splintered remains of the chair before Fellow Free Soiler Joseph Root (FS, Ohio) tackled him to the ground.
This set off a chain reaction, transforming the session of Congress into the equivalent of a barroom brawl. Along party lines, Representatives fought one another, a microcosm of the controversy and chaos of the last few months, and yet another manifestation of the last three years of upheaval.
All of a sudden, a gunshot rang through the House, bringing the House to a standstill once more. The source of the shot, a pistol belonging to fellow committee member William Hayden English (D, Indiana), was held straight in the air like a torch. “If y’all are done acting like spoiled brats, shut up and let the Committee speak.”
“You have my thanks for doing that.” Smith said, before getting back on topic. “In short, The current President has partaken in gross abuses of executive power. By impeaching him, these United States will be able to start repairing their image on the world stage.”
An almost deafening silence swiftly shrouded the House of Representatives as they took in Gerrit Smith’s words, before it was permeated by Speaker of the House Linn Boyd.
“As the last few months have shown, it is clear that issues like impeachment and the question of slavery will never stop creating controversy.” Boyd said. “With that in mind, it is also clear that putting the articles to vote will only create more trouble than I myself am willing to deal with. That is why I am calling this House session into recess, at least until tomorrow.”
CDFI Complex, West Sacramento, Republic of California - September 19, 1853
The California Department of Foreign Intelligence was one of the youngest of the new agencies cobbled together after the event. It wasn’t that the CIA, NSA or DNI didn’t have assets in California--in fact it had many--it was simply that the entire leadership of all three agencies was not in California. Thankfully there were plenty of experts and academics to fill the ranks of the CDFI, but actual office space outside of temporary office parks took a year and a half to make into a proper complex of the federal campus… that happened to be built out of a former IKEA.
Director Reynolds shook his head as he walked into the complex. He and his wife had bought furniture here before the event, and thankfully there had been some surplus furniture. As he took the escalator up to the command center he passed the mural drawn of the E-12, one of the first and only post-event aircraft designed and built. The E-12 would have never been built Pre-Event; its mission profile would’ve made it laughable then. It had no stealth capability and it was easy to spot by radar. What it had in spades was efficiency, range, and a large amount of cameras aiming down. One engineer called it a stripped down and redesigned U-2.
As Director Reynolds entered Command, he looked at the giant wall of televisions, wishing that IT would finally change the sidebar to say CDFI Reconnaissance instead of Google Maps. The URSA satellites, in addition to providing communications and television, also had optical equipment to keep an eye on the world. It was nowhere close to the capability they had in the 21st century, but it was sufficient for this age. The map, unlike Google Maps, kept updating images based on passes by the Satellites, and most importantly, the now weekly E-12 surveillance flights, uploaded with terabytes of very high resolution surveillance images of the Downtime Southern States. The State of the actual war was debatable, but at least the CDFI was treating the war as seriously as total war. Director Reynolds smiled as the E-12 turned at the Grand Banks and continued its flights; it would be a few more passes before it would have to return to Edwards… more than enough time to pass Richmond, Birmingham, and New Orleans. He couldn’t wait for authorization of more flights; he could almost have live coverage of most of the South.
Californian Embassy - Mayfair, London, United Kingdom - September 22nd, 1853
The Embassy of the Republic of California in London was a remarkable complex. Technically, the land had been purchased in early 1852, but the State Department did not… plan for the intricacies of operating an embassy around the globe. In the course of two years, the plans for the Californian Embassy were revised multiple times. And after using local materials and engineers and craftsmen from California, the Embassy was finished after only 38 shipping containers and some equipment stashed in the hold of the Roosevelt. With the launch of the Ursa Satellite Network, the Embassy now had real time communication with Sacramento.
Of course, the design of the building attracted quite a lot of attention, from the near perfect glass windows (that school children delighted in throwing rocks at to prove their resilience), to odd paint on the buildings perimeter that reflected fluids back (something that the ambassador found was unfortunately becoming a local amusement). However, once one passed the perimeter and entered the embassy grounds, they would be struck by an odd sense of style… which Californians called “Edwardian”. Downtime guests would be stunned by the manicured gardens and fountains, ignoring the very difficult engineering that kept the embassy functioning. The fountains in the gardens were in fact cisterns and filters for the Embassy’s water supply. Similarly the “blue reflective roof” was not decorative but a vital source of power. After a year and a half of the skeleton embassy staff living in the squalor of London, there was a small piece of the 21st century in Europe, which is what brought the embassy to tonight, the societal event of London. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were invited to a dinner at the Embassy, an invitation they eagerly accepted. And once the Queen was in attendance, the dinner became a gala beneath electric lights and a cinema presentation in one of the larger conference rooms. It also allowed the diplomatic staff of the embassy to work.
The European Desks as they were called sat in an office on the 4th floor where Uptime European diplomats found work dealing with their downtime counterparts. Giselle went from a 5th Republic official working for Macron to meeting with officials from the Second Republic soon-to-be the Second Empire. Elsa had gone from an appointment under Merkel’s government to a world where a United Germany didn’t exist.
“As the Ambassador of the Republic of California, and invited to the Court of St. James under Her Majesty Queen Victoria, it is my sincere pleasure to invite you all to the official opening of our Embassy in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland...”
Elsa kept a tight smile; that last statement couldn’t have been easy for Ambassador O’Halloran. Then again, she looked at the assembled dignitaries and realized that many of her fellow ‘Californians’ were in fact foreign nationals caught by the Event just as she and O’Halloran had been. Awkwardness, therefore, was not exactly in short supply.
“The world has changed dramatically in the past few years, and all of us are attempting to catch up,” O’Halloran continued. “Some struggle more than others; not even California is immune to this. We found ourselves tossed across a sea of time, and the very nation we once considered our own has hardly made us feel welcome. Of course, they would likely find a similarly cool reception among you at this point in time.”
That last part received a few laughs; a rather dark joke considering recent events, but in Elsa’s experience many diplomats tended to have a dark sense of humor anyway.
“All of that being said, California cannot call itself its own nation if it insists upon being an island; the Roosevelt was but the first of our attempts to reach out in the hopes of finding a friendly hand to grasp in this strange new world. To our surprise, we found a number of such hands, gratefully accepted. Tonight, California begins the process of repaying the kindness we were shown; tonight, we set forth on the path to peace and prosperity--for our homeland, and for all those who aided us when we called for it.”
As the speech ended, Elsa couldn’t help but notice that many downtime dignitaries seemed surprised by the latter part. She hoped their surprise was of the pleasant variety. The speech continued for a bit, and as the formalities and niceties were extended in the usual manner for such speeches she found her eyes wandering around the room at the various downtime delegations; it was a society both familiar and wholly alien, and not merely in the cultural sense. These were diplomats, but they were also rulers and nobility, idle and otherwise, whereas she was appointed to her position based on her qualifications and educational records. And yet, there was at least one face in the crowd Elsa knew to belong to a political mind far more shrewd than any other: that of the Iron Chancellor himself, Otto von Bismarck, though the man had not yet gained that title. Something about the speech clearly amused him, as she could see him chuckle to himself at a few points; he was undoubtedly hatching some cunning scheme at this very moment, and she made a mental note to ask him about it later on in the evening.
The speech finally wound to a close, with O’Halloran thanking the gathered downtimers one last time before walking off and looking for the nearest wine glass. Elsa, feeling the need for a bit of liquid courage for herself, decided to join him for a bit.
“Good speech,” She said, sidling up to him.
O’Halloran chuckled nervously. “Hardly. It wasn’t near the sort of flowery speech that these people are accustomed to.”
“True. But maybe they’ll find it refreshing.”
“I’m not so sure,” the Irishman responded; “I saw some of their reactions. If anything, they were mostly puzzled, though I’m not sure why.”
Elsa shrugged. “Well, from what I saw, at the very least Prince Consort Albert seemed intrigued by it. Weren’t you planning on talking to him anyway? Whether he was impressed or not, now would likely be the best time.”
A few moments passed as O’Halloran hummed in thought before sighing. “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Hopefully it’ll go over well enough....”
While he tried his best not to let it show on his face, Prince Consort Albert was furious with the House of Commons. The “Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions Act” had been rejected by the Commons by a single vote; The Act itself had been the brainchild of Lord Clarendon and the
British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society after a discussion with some Californian activists who had been calling for something similar against some uptime country or another.
The logic was quite simple and quite sound: Britain could never hold the moral high ground with regards to ending the slave trade as long as they continued to benefit from the products of it in cotton, tobacco and sugar. It was fortunate then that the mills in Manchester had found a new source of cotton in California and in Egypt as the former Egyptian Wāli, Muhammad Ali, had worked to bring cotton growing to the Nile River, allowing Britain to wean themselves from the products of slavery.
On the other hand, the California Crisis that had enveloped the American continent had divided the Aberdeen ministry. Clarendon and Lord Graham, first Sea Lord of the Admiralty, would have preferred California to stay in the Union, if only so that their Navy could board suspected slave ships flying the American flag without issue, something that the Royal Navy couldn’t do without causing a diplomatic row with Washington. At the very least, the Crown was hoping that a peaceful solution could be found, as Napoleon III’s recent
coup d’etat across the channel was extremely worrying for the foreign office even if France--like Britain--was sending ships to aid California.
The conclusion of Aberdeen’s economic ministry was that the United States, and specifically the southern states in the event of a southern secession, could not survive without the reopening of the African slave trade--something that he, Victoria, and Aberdeen’s government would not abide under any circumstances. For all the talk of a ‘special relationship’ in the Lost History that the Californians had brought with them, the United States was headed down a dangerous path, one that would see them sidelined in international affairs with California rising to take their place.
Albert had hoped that the Parliament would pass the bill in time for this event, but it seemed it was not to be. Ideally he hoped to have a private word with the Californian Ambassador... and yet, the Californians seemed to abhor the idea of having secret agreements, especially in regards to military or political affairs. It was an oddity since the rest of the world knew by now the scale of their might.
Even their most benign of presentations boggled the mind.
How could a whole nation think these activities mundane, he thought as the television played the CGI presentation representing one of California’s many technological marvels of communication.
“Once completed, the URSA Satellite Network will allow for complete communication coverage of the planet. A call from London to Tokyo to San Francisco to Paris will be just a few buttons away. Once the full network is finished in late 1854…”
Albert shook his head. “For them, the idea of artificial moons is common.”
“Well dear,” said Victoria, slapping his wrist, “how would a locomotive have appeared to the court of Charles II?”
“A fair point, but they seem obsessed with speed. Who would ever want to travel the world so quickly?”
“I believe I can think of a fair few in the Admiralty who would wish for such speed.”
——-
After the presentation was over, Albert had made the effort to track down O’Halloran, who by sheer coincidence, was also looking for him. Refreshingly for the Prince Consort, O’Halloran wasted no time getting to the topic of BDS: the reason why he wanted this discussion in the first place.
“It’s quite a shame that BDS failed to pass in Parliament.” Albert said. “Especially with the amount of support it had.”
“From what lost history has shown, dealing British politics is an unenviable task,” O’Halloran replied, trying to offer some sympathy to Albert. “Though to be fair, it isn’t as if American politics is any better, especially considering recent events.”
Albert sighed. “Ah yes, the California crisis. Some in the government do wish for a peaceful solution to the crisis, however unlikely it is. Though Flight 1312, God bless the crash victims, did not exactly help matters at all.”
“And that’s not getting into the envoys on board that flight,” O’Halloran added. “It made a political crisis into a diplomatic shitstorm, for lack of a better term.”
“Maybe the Americans learned the wrong lessons from the future,” Chimed the voice of Crown Prince Alexander II. “They saw a future where they were the undisputed superpower, and thought that it was their destiny manifested.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” O’Halloran agreed. “And an apt description of the crisis at that.”
Alexander approached with a courteous nod. “I apologize for my intrusion, but I couldn’t help joining in at the mention of the crisis, and flight 1312.”
“Apology accepted your highness.” Albert replied. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you lose someone in that crash?”
“I lost a dear friend of mine, who was set to travel to California, and hopefully open diplomatic relations,” Alexander said before continuing in a sardonic tone. “Combined with the actions of my father, the Vodka started looking more promising.”
“I take it that the Tsar didn’t react well to the Lost History version of Russia?” O’Halloran asked.
“To put it mildly, he did not,” The Crown Prince replied. “What he saw was the crumbling of the Romanov dynasty, and he responded with the total repression of anything he thought would undermine his power, which would make my future reign a pain in the arse, if it ever comes to be.”
Albert mused on that for a moment. “I guess that with the bounty of knowledge that Lost History has provided the world, there will always be the fear that we may be learning the wrong lessons from it.”
“Only hindsight would be able to ascertain what decisions were truly the right ones to make,” observed O’Halloran.
“Which is why I wanted to meet with you.” Alexander said. “Especially since I doubt that my father is not willing to change anytime soon.”
As the conversation continued on, other meetings were going on around the same time, including one of particular interest at the balcony...
——-
Elsa stood on the balcony with the other members of Otto von Bismarck’s entourage, looking at the man himself puffing on a cigar overlooking the city. She stood waiting for his response, to which he simply puffed on his cigar and read a paper, simply turning a page before speaking. “My dear fraulein, I always have a plan. Would you care to know what it is?” He said simply, folding his paper and fixing her with a gaze.
“Yes,” she said eagerly; it was not everyday one got to meet the topic of their political science dissertation. “What is your plan to overcome the forces that will soon array themselves against a United Germany?”
He smiled and laughed, "I don't have one, because I don't need one. The powers of Europe are well aware of this meeting, despite your precautions. I
let them know." Bismarck chortled and filled his pipe before continuing. "Of course, in fear they will do something rash. Capitulate, fearing my lost legacy and your technology."
“We haven’t agreed to anything though. You yourself said you aren’t representing Germany at this dinner.”
Otto von Bismarck reignited his cigar. “Of course not. However fraulein, you committed an error, one that most Californians do: ascribing to the past your romantic ideals of it. Specifically, open diplomacy, which is an alien concept in our world. Given the scale of your weapons, it is understandable why the affairs of state are handled that way in your time, but now? No...” he puffed on his pipe, “No my dear, I accepted the invitation because there were nearly 20 other people who would tell of my presence here. Not only that, but I stepped out for a private meeting with a Californian member of the ambassadorial staff, just after you demonstrated to the assembled guests the speed of your Commerce network. As much as I would like California to do business with Prussia I doubt the overly cautious behemoth of the Pacific will awaken in Europe anytime soon, but... My colleagues?” he spoke, gesturing widely to the glass doors to the main reception area where Elsa noticed no less than 5 downtime gentlemen watching discreetly, “They are suspicious and paranoid.” He smiled broadly. “They will see what they fear. Do you know what that is, fraulein?”
Elsa searched her mind for the character of Bismarck, the plans and stratagems but ultimately she concluded that she was looking at it from the wrong angle. From the lens of analysis of history, not from the lens of geopolitical reality. It was obvious enough in retrospect that she had to laugh at herself for not seeing it sooner. “So… you did have a plan.”
“Oh? Did I?” he said in mock innocence as he put his hands behind his back and looked out over the city of London. “When California appeared I was shocked as was all of Europe, then aghast and proud of what I once accomplished, and dreaded what I couldn’t hope to duplicate. However I realized something that… the pre-Event American President seemed to excel at by accident, distraction. Distracting people with their image instead of what they actually were. I read as much as I could of California’s culture to understand the Uptime mindset…” Smiling, he extended his hand to shake Elsa’s which she instinctively reached for… at which Bismarck smiled and nodded, “However, to answer your question fraulein, I would quote from a book from uptime about my plan. Do you seriously think I'd explain my master-stroke if there remained the slightest chance of you affecting its outcome?” With a grin, he gestured for his entourage to follow him out. “Good night Fraulein,” he said within earshot of other guests “it was a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to your correspondence.” He was curious how fast Elsa would think.
Elsa was stunned, in a flash she realized his plan. He didn’t need a meeting or agreement with California; he just needed to make it seem like a secret agreement was made with the cautious uptimers. Uptimers who, through media and lost history texts, extolled that Bismarck was a political genius and master politician. She even played a role in it, extending typical friendly courtesies which were within norms uptime, but not downtime. Her seeking him out for a private meeting while Giselle and the other European liaisons had their meetings in alcoves inside, in fact… she recalled it was his suggestion they have their conversation on the balcony. She got played, and given the paranoia and suspicion downtimers had regarding Bismarck, she could hardly doubt they assumed that California just closed a secret deal with Bismarck. Even if she denied it the downtimers would just take that as certainty that they had made a deal. She began to laugh and drowned her champagne flute before heading up to her office. Tomorrow would be another day for the game that was European politics.
The Onion Week In Review - September 23rd, 1853
The US House of Representatives breaks out into a food fight over the meaning of a food fight, Zoo visitors line up to see the mating ritual of the Ice Cream employees, and we didn’t start the fire, oh we didn’t light it, but we tried to fight it. I’m Richard MacDunough, and though I arrived from Glasgow a week ago, I can still yammer on just enough to give you the Week in Review.
This week, an LA area woman was caught speeding on I-5 in a Chevy Cavalier. The woman, a downtimer from New Jersey, was caught driving 130 miles an hour in a 65 mile an hour zone, which is typical of New Jersey drivers from what my friends at the pub have told me. Though the lass pleaded with the officers to just pay the fine immediately, she was instead given a reprimand over getting a Cavalier in the first place, and that the wee lass is not in Cannonball Run. CHP are still looking for the DeLorean that managed to get up to 90 miles an hour, and disappeared in a flash of light.
A study conducted by two students at UC Berkeley has attempted to study the kilogram and concluded that a kilogram is in fact a kilogram. Attempts to discern the difference between the NIST kilogram in Livermore and the Kilogram in Paris to determine the weight difference has grown to a halt when Livermore had to educate Paris about Neutrinos and how to make a nanogram scale.
Tavish: We asked Paris to tell us down to the millionth gram to see if there is a difference, but unfortunately, scientists in France had never heard of Neutrinos, proton decay, or other issues. It’s all very disheartening that they don’t keep up on the latest Scientific literature.
Jacques: What does it matter if a kilogram is off by so little? I have heard of these Quantum Mechanics, nothing of nothings!
And just yesterday, a Fresno area man kicked the bucket last night at the hospital. The man who'll exclusively be referred to as Kevin, kicked the bucket in the parking lot of a hospital, almost hitting some guy’s Toyota. Luckily for the Toyota, and unluckily for Kevin’s toes, the bucket was filled with water, meaning that Kevin had to be sent to the hospital, which was conveniently close by.
And in Automotive News: the old second gen Crown Vic Interceptors of the California Highway Patrol will be replaced with Ford’s new Mustang. These Stallions are capable of one horsepower and have a siren strapped to the head. Spencer Cletus Ford, also well known for his Bronco, is proud to say that the mare, Shelby, is with what he hopes to be the next Mustang from Ford’s ranch.
In other news: A Bay Area Woman gets thrown out of the afterlife after cheating on Death, Otto Von Bismarck comes up with a plan for when he has no plans, and the House of Commons introduces a bill to ban helium due to several cases of trains, carriages, and a house floating away.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get drunk, laugh at lost history, and cry at how much you lot screwed it up. For literally anything else, don’t visit
www.theonion.com
