Wouldn't it be funny if the winds get some clouds of English anthrax through the seas to Murica? The Worm would be pleased.
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"What Madness Is This?" Volume III: The Pinnacle Future
- Thread starter Napoleon53
- Start date
This has the consistency of the Joker home movies from the Dark Knight
I got a better idea: BU's territories in Northen Ireland uickly becomes flooded with British immigratnts,
The problem is that most of the Colonists go there just to try fleeing into Ireland proper
Beatriz
Gone Fishin'
The air and sea currents of Northern Europe ensures that the spores will blows from England into the Baltic, contaminating Norther France, Holland, West Germany, Scandinavia and the Baltics. Of course this will make even American allies and the Dutch colonial communities in Indonesia and South Africa that the US is trying to add on wary - a (soon to be ex) Dutch racist bloc that is less genocidal than the Americans/Australians (no small feat) but is built on defacto plantation/mine/factory slavery of a permanent underclass would be another bloc to add
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We've had plenty of that with the Madnessverse 19th century colonial empires and then with Mittelafrika. Let the fires and hysteria of revolution burn through SEA.
The era after both the Manifest Climax and the war in Europe, the Atomic Era, should be one of turbulence, revolutions, revolts and new states in the old colonies. Madnessverse Post-Colonial Era.
If the Dutch were to keep some territory from their old colonial empire, whether independent from the Netherlands or not, it should be something pretty close to Portugal's Overseas Territories in the 70s-80s . Holdouts from the days of the colonial empire, surrounded by post-colonial states that hate them (the rest of SEA ITTL) and maybe supported by still allied states (fascist Australia in WMIT as a parallel to OTL's South African support to Portugal); wracked by rebel groups (UNITA, FRELIMO, MPLA, etc in OTL) and unrest; fighting a protracted, gritty, hard to continue war on their own soil againts the rebels. The different power blocs providing their covert and not so covert support to the side they prefer, looking for whatever they might get out of their favourite's victory.
Most of that happened in Africa, but OTL Portuguese had an small overseas territory in the Indonesian archipelago too. East Timor. It had a complicated history both just before and after independence. Whatever Dutch holdout there's left there could be based on that.
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Oh my God those are some crazy eyes
I want her to become national leader, all the Illuminists think their Brother Number One is some young guy and it's just her
Beatriz
Gone Fishin'
The contamination of the North Sea Shore with anthrax will make the metropole Dutch a moot point
The Soviet hand-pyramid poster unfortunately violates the "rule" of flag symbols needing to be easy to draw-- but it could be a cool emblem/coat of arms.
A RESPECTFUL TONE
A RESPECTFUL TONE
"Listen here, you cockamamie little limey cup of tea-flavored afterbirth, do you have any idea, in the slightest, what kind of mistake you've made?" Chuck Oswald screamed into the red phone receiver, foaming spittle shooting from his mouth like a raging storm in his salivary glands. It was an hour after the televisor presentation in Britannia where the B.U. unveiled the Massive Area Denial Device.
A light, melodic, pleasant Englishman said on the other end of the line, "My, my, Mr. President, you certainly have a way with insults. But, as they say, sticks and stones may break my bones, but names shall never hurt me."
"I'll hurt you, alright, Aethelred. I will show you a thousand and one ways to experience pain. First you betray the League, then you betray me by not informing me that you were building a damn deathwish superweapon that can turn Europe into a damn cemetery. Tell me, General Director, who the fuck told you this was a good idea? I'll have you toppled for this shitshow!" Oswald hollered again. The NUSA President was in his personal office in the Presidential Mansion, with Little Immanuel and several of his advisors standing off to the side, wringing their hands.
"Papa, you shouldn't use those kind of words. It's not Christian, Papa," sweet little Immanuel said. He was seven now, but looked ten thanks to his height and the sharply tailored private school uniform. He was going to the Mount Olive Private School, and was soon supposed to venture to the Poconos to be personally educated by the Prophet Graham at the Tobias Institute.
Oswald covered the mouthpiece of the phone and leaned down, "Cover your ears, Immanuel. Pop's using grown-up language because this English bastard has it fuckin' coming! Do you realize what he's done?!"
"Not really. I'm seven, Papa. Just don't say bad words to him. It isn't nice," the boy said, oh-so innocently.
"Bobby! Get over here and cover this boy's ears!" the President howled at a young man who looked barely out of high school. The aide came running up, saluted, pulled a set of earmuffs out of his suit jacket, before wrapping them gently but firmly around the boy's head. Chuck inhaled and went back to his phone call. "And as I was saying, you dithering, gin-soaked ass-licker, I will have you deposed within the week for this! I'm the President of the New fuckin' Jerusalem! I am practically the voice of God himself! And you better watch out, mister, because I'll have the Marines rolling up the Thames at midnight coming to air out your inbred English skull."
Aethelred Williams chuckled and replied, "Oh, no, as a matter of fact, sir, I don't believe you shall. It's about time someone stood up to your pompous, spoiled antics, Charles. It's really rather unbecoming. You have no one to blame for our exit from the League but yourself, your government, and your mutual thirsts for Britannic troops to send to your Enduring Orgasm, or whatever you Yanks call that war (yes, I said the 'W'-word) in South America or New Jericho or whatever else the hell you call it now. And of course, I didn't share any info about Protocol Dignity with you. I'm not as stupid as you think. I knew you would blow your stack, old boy. That's the whole point. The shitshow stops here, Oswald. It really does. I won't tolerate you ordering my nation around like a court jester any more. Nor shall I tolerate any other power doing the same. My people want sovereignty and dignity, and this is what I give them."
"You are giving them suicide! It's the shittiest plan I have ever heard, and I have heard some real doozies. And you have some fuckin' robot from Raycraft Tab controlling that thing? Are you kidding? Raycraft is at least ten years behind our tech level, and we barely run our payroll system through a tab! What the hell are you smokin' to trust the safety and security of your entire country on some bucket-of-bolts piece-of-shit? All-American Congress is going to request we sanction your asses, and quite frankly, I won't stand in their way! The whole League is furious, Aethelred! How do you think the Norwegians and the Germanians feel? Huh? What the fuck are they supposed to do when your beep-bop-boop goes beep-bop-bang and wipes out the Mainland? Hmm? They'll sanction your ass, too! And what are you going to do? Trade with the Europans? As if you have literally anything they want that they can't get from another part of their own goddamn Empire?"
"I suppose that's on them, old boy," Williams answered without emotion. "We are open to trade with all comers. We seek to be a new rock of impartiality amidst the storm of shite that is the current world order."
Oswald smiled darkly and quipped, "Oh, no, you aren't open to trade with all comers. You and I both know you won't trade with the Loomies!"
"That's different, Charles. We don't even recogni--"
"--Oh, I know why you won't trade with them and you don't recognize them as legal states," Oswald interjected. "And it's because you are scared shitless of the people you say you are protecting. Your Dreggers all lean Loomie, Aethelred, and if you recognize or trade with the Loomies, you'll have so much subversion you'll be checking in your toilet tank at night for assassins and spies, you Limey fuck. Once all your money dries up, once your trade industry withers on the vine, then your people will come for your head. You'll go full Loomie, Aethelred. The Owl of Minerva flying in front of Big Ben. Your head on a damn pike. I can just see it now."
"If that ever happens, Oswald, old boy, M.A.D. would be activated," the Britannic General Director said bluntly.
"You... you saying you would kill everyone on your Jev-damn island if you had a revolt by your own people?" Oswald asked, his voice lowering and sounding akin to something like actual shock. "What about fighting back and defeating them and taking back your fucking home?"
"Yes. Yes, I would. To preserve our dignity, nothing is off the table, and in a situation where we lose control of the helm of state to Loomie traitors within, we cannot risk the uncertainty that a counter-revolution would promise. We need stability, Oswald. Stability can come either peacefully, or it can come with the threat of Massive Area Denial. We will not have another revolution. The Populist Front will not relinquish power. We will not return to American orbit and fly too close to the sun, nor shall we go fly with the Owls and chase the moon. If I have an attempted revolt, I can assure you, I will warn every single person alive that their unscrupulous activity should cease at once, or I shall be forced to deny them continued existence. It is better to live one day as a Lion of Britannia than to live a thousand years with an American, Europan, or Illuminist fist up our arse, so to speak crudely, as you so enjoy doing."
"You are a suicidal maniac, Aethelred."
"Oh, am I? Because that's not how it feels to me, old boy. To me, quite frankly, it feels like I have leverage. At long last, my country has leverage. We have endured nearly a century and a half of disgrace and humiliation. You Yanks away our voice and turned us into a puppet, with absolutely no concern for our well-being or success in our own goals. My beloved homeland was nothing more than a footstool to you Yanks. So tell me, old boy, why this is a mistake? There are clowns to the left of me, and jokers to the right, and here I am, a man blessed by God above with a weapon that levels all the playing fields. Everyone will want us to succeed, old boy. Everyone. No one wants to see us fail now. We both know, if Maddie pulled the trigger, so to speak, the Mainland would be ravaged. But we both also know that the anthrax would also move itself west on the waves of the North Atlantic. You don't want me to fail, Charles, old boy. Quite the opposite, in fact. You could take me out of this world at any time--that I have no doubt. You could assassinate me in my sleep. Do I lose sleep over that thought? A bit. But now it's your turn, old boy. Your turn to sleep with that uneasy feeling in your gut that if something bad happens to me and/or my government, bad, bad, terribly naughty things will occur to you, as well."
Oswald's lips quivered with rage as he thought up his next insult. He stretched the cable of the phone to its greatest length possible and stared out the bullet-proof window of his office. The sun was shining, birds were flying overhead, and civilian traffic was busy as ever. He knew most of those drivers were tuning their talkieboxes into news about the M.A.D. Device. They would expect their President, their Atheling, to resolve this situation, just as he always did. "Aethelred?" he inquired, more calmly.
"Yes, Charles?" oozed the Englishman. Oswald could sense the smirk on his smug little face.
"Aethelred, I am building a new empire of Jev over here. The New United States is a very fresh take on our grand experiment. We're still, er, ah, wrapping up... in New Zion. I am telling you this, one leader to another, that we need you... back in the League. Shut down the Device, agree to League observers and scientists coming in to oversee the demolition of the damn thing, and then we'll lock it up somewhere in the South Pole or wherever the hell. The observers can even be Norwegians or whoever. I am not even asking for Americans to come step one foot on your damn island, Aethelred. But for the love of all that is holy, take that death robot apart, and I'll... smooth over shit with the League. You're crazy, but I almost kinda, almost sorta... respect it. No one on this planet right now has the stones to talk to Chuck Oswald like you have been doing... You agree to that, and Custer Youth's honor, I will forget this ever happened. You win. We win. Everyone goes home happy."
"And then you slit my throat in my sleep, Charles," the General Director said plainly. "I'm sorry, old boy, but I can't agree. And you know what the really funny thing is about Maddie?"
Chuck slammed his fist into the glass, busting open his knuckles and smearing the unbreakable window with blood. He didn't even feel the pain. "What is fucking funny, Aethelred?"
"Maddie... Maddie... well, he can't be turned off, you see. Even if I agreed, old chum--even if I agreed to let some Cokies and Norwegians come in here and watch me turn the thing off-- well, it... doesn't turn off. If anyone tries to shut the thing down, an immediate signal is sent to blow the whole thing up to Baby Jesus and all the angels. That way, if a man of lower moral standards than myself should ever one day hold my office, he can't agree to your honeyed words, either, you old serpent, old boy. You could say, Maddie is our eternal leader."
"You are absolutely fuckin' mad," spat Chuck. He wiped the blood of his knuckles against his light blue blazer. It wouldn't be the first time the laundry room would scrub blood from his suits, and it wouldn't be the last.
"Mad? Of course, I am, old boy. But so is the age we live in. 'Mad,' well--it quite literally is in the bloody name, isn't it just? And one last thing, Charles..." Williams trailed off.
"What is it?" Chuck asked, trying to hide his hesitation and mask it with annoyance.
"I hope we shan't ever have a call like this again. You understand? I know you wouldn't take this tone with Caesar, because he could nuke Philadelphia within the hour. Know that I am now just as capable of destructive justice. I hope that, even if we disagree more in the future, you will keep a respectful tone, worthy of your rank and position, as well as my own. Now won't you, old boy?"
Chuck slammed the phone down, disconnecting the direct line to London.
Back in London itself, Williams steepled his fingers and let out a mildly-amused chuckle. Nothing over the top, and with a stiff upper lip. But a very hearty, quiet laugh. It was good to be Director General.
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"Heartbreaking: The Worst Person You Know Just Made A Great Point"
At this rate London's literally going to be a city-state. It's going to be a (de facto or de jure) Loomie government everywhere else, and then in the City it's just Emperor Aethelred on his Golden Throne. He can forgive his people's indiscretions, so long as they let him keep them safe... forever...
I hope Aethelred recorded the call and has it broadcasting on loop in Britain, this makes him look way better than everything that's been said about MAD so far
At this rate London's literally going to be a city-state. It's going to be a (de facto or de jure) Loomie government everywhere else, and then in the City it's just Emperor Aethelred on his Golden Throne. He can forgive his people's indiscretions, so long as they let him keep them safe... forever...
I hope Aethelred recorded the call and has it broadcasting on loop in Britain, this makes him look way better than everything that's been said about MAD so far
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On the one hand, I kinda respect Aethelred for standing up to Oswald. But, on the other hand...well, I think he's condemned Britain to a fate worse than Hell. I seriously hope that someone (even the Loomies would be a fine option, at this point) manages to shut down Maddie without further incident.
I worked STUPIDLY long on this flag/symbol.
The Articles of Union
hold the people in a rage
Men turned their coats and sold their votes
And made us Maddie's slaves
But there be enlightened patriots
that we can surely trust
To raise up freedom's precious sword
that lies neglected in the dust
And should our third eyes fail us
And we are slain upon the moor
Anthrax most foul and black and cursed
Shall cover Scotland evermore.
Original 1950s-era Scottish Illuminati banner of unknown origin
The Articles of Union
hold the people in a rage
Men turned their coats and sold their votes
And made us Maddie's slaves
But there be enlightened patriots
that we can surely trust
To raise up freedom's precious sword
that lies neglected in the dust
And should our third eyes fail us
And we are slain upon the moor
Anthrax most foul and black and cursed
Shall cover Scotland evermore.
Original 1950s-era Scottish Illuminati banner of unknown origin
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...Okay, I'm not exactly a raging fan of the SNP, but even I think Scottish Loomies inadvertently bringing about a localised apocalypse in their attempts to get rid of the PopFront is a little much
.Also, ngl, got to give Williams credit for realising the kind of universe he lives in and attempting to weaponise it/screw the screw.
But we don't know yet if that will finally happen, and even if the metropole dissapears, I don't see how everything else said about the overseas remnants couldn't apply because of it.
Man, I still have to comment on the other chapter and now there's another update. I don't complain, though.
A possibility: after the collapse of Illuminism, the graduates of the Fundamentalist-to-Illuminist pipeline might conclude that Europan Catholicism was the best balance of reason and faith all along. The uber-Prots might succeed in reversing the Reformation