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A Golden Island to the West

Right. So the Secretary of the Navy wants to send the troops in to force California to recognise the authority of Downtime Washington, and has decided that the best first step is to remove any reason for one of the largest concentrations of Federal Troops in the state to feel any obligation to obey Washington.

...

Good god he's a fucking idiot isn't he.
"Not invented here."

In the 19th century, the idea that the Marine Corps was a redundant branch of the Military was much more common than it is today. That it wasn't dissolved and rolled up into the Army was almost entirely due to the actions of Archibald Henderson. And it wasn't until the Mexican-American War that the Corps had really proven themselves (Which is where the line "From the halls of Montezuma..." comes from in the Marine Corps hymn)

But as far as Graham is concerned, the Marines of the I MEF are more likely to side with Sacramento than Washington if he had tried to order them to institute direct rule from Washington. Downtime soldiers or marines would be certain to follow orders, uptime soldiers are a question mark, and that's a very risky thing to have in that kind of situation.
 
But as far as Graham is concerned, the Marines of the I MEF are more likely to side with Sacramento than Washington if he had tried to order them to institute direct rule from Washington. Downtime soldiers or marines would be certain to follow orders, uptime soldiers are a question mark, and that's a very risky thing to have in that kind of situation.

True, but now they're certain to be against him. And would have been practically guaranteed to take up arms against them even without being reformed as a National Guard unit.
 
This is excellent! Might i make a suggestion-you mentioned that the British were sending an embassy? The British might be a rather useful friend to the new California, especially regarding slavery. Remember, the British are pretty much singlehandedly wiping out the international slave trade with its naval patrols. California might have the tech, but at this time, Britain has the naval numbers. Something to think about.
 
USS Theodore Roosevelt – North Island NAS – August 29th, 1851

The floating behemoth that was the USS Theodore Roosevelt, crown jewel of the Californian Navy, slowly sailed out of San Diego Bay.

All around, people stood and watched as the enormous ship sailed out of the bay towards Hawaii, followed by the rest of the carrier task group. The Roosevelt had been transformed into a floating convention center and museum, with companies and individuals from all over California participating in a floating exhibition to show the rest of the world what California had to offer.

On the hangar deck, Siemens had placed a mockup of a high speed rail car that had previously been loaned out to the Sacramento Railroad Museum. Boeing had placed half of a 737-200 fuselage, along with a cockpit simulator for a 787 to show off the concept of air travel, SpaceX had brought one of the dragon capsules that had been used to dock with the ISS. And all along the hangar deck were booths from Californians showing off the wonders of the 21st century, from GPS to impromptu internet cafes to theaters showing various classic and contemporary movies.

In one of the VIP cabins, the 17 year old Prince Alexander Liholiho was contemplating all that he had seen on his trip to visit the new California. Universities that had been the envy of the 21st century that California had come from, trains that travelled underground, underwater and across oceans, ships that flew through the air and could fly between Oahu and California in 6 hours.

And most importantly, a counterweight to the European empires who had been breathing down their necks, or the American fruit and sugar companies that would eventually see the Kamehameha dynasty overthrown and annexed into the United States. His cousin Lili'uokalani would be the last queen of Hawaii.

By comparison, California’s offer was almost too good to be true. They would use their beyond the state of the art military to defend the Hawaiian islands, and all they wanted was a harbor to build a port to service their ships.

A knock on the cabin door brought Alexander out of his contemplative mood. Opening the door he saw the Californian representative, Ami Bera, there.

“So, now that you’ve seen what the new California has, what do you think?” Said Bera.

“It was pretty… overwhelming.” Said Alexander. “The thing that impressed me the most though? It was the surfing.”

“Really?” Said Ami.

“Yeah.” Explained Alexander. “Back home, all the missionaries hate surfing and tried to get people to stop doing it, even though we’ve been doing it long before they arrived. So it was odd to see Californians embracing it. Odd, but good.”

“Anything else?” Prodded Bera.

“Actually yeah, your coastal act and your laws against invasive species.” Explained Alexander. “It’s long been a problem on the islands of foreigners bringing in animals that cause problems for everyone else.” He said, thinking of the feral pigs and mosquitos on the islands.

Nagasaki Harbor – September 4th, 1851 – M/Y Kanrin Maru

The Kanrin Maru, along with its Navy escort was an unusual sign in Nagasaki. The ship was a bright white and wasn’t made of any material that any of the Dutch or Japanese sailors could recognize. The unusual white flag with a red stripe and the image of a bear on the trio of ships was not one that most sailors would have immediately recognized, but any uptimer would have recognized the Californian flag the luxury yacht and her two Arleigh Burke class escorts were flying.

To the Japanese, these ships were a new type of kurofune, and was a challenge to the isolationist policy of Sakoku. The real mystery was the name “Kanrin Maru” (咸臨丸) painted onto the hull of the white ship in the center. The name itself roughly meant “ship for establishing relationships,” implying it was a diplomat from somewhere.

As the ships sailed into Nagasaki harbor, several small vessels sailed out to greet it and to guide it into a berth at Dejima.

Aboard the Kanrin Maru, the former UCLA professor Katsuya Hirano watched the initial group with anticipation. Prior to The Event, he had been a professor of Japanese language and history at UCLA, with his expertise being the late Tokugawa and Early Meiji periods, the exact time frame that California now found itself in.

Needless to say, he had been approached very quickly by the Japanese Consulate in Los Angeles and asked to provide expert guidance on the Japan on 1850, a project that had eventually been rolled into the new ad-hoc Department of State.

The first part of it was the most nerve-wracking, finding students who were Chinese-Californian, not Christian, and fluent in English, Japanese and Chinese. Despite having a large population of Japanese-Californians to draw on, for the first contact, they had to initially pass as Chinese traders in Dejima in order to request an audience with the Tokugawa Shogunate, at which point they could explain their situation more openly.

It was a diplomatic tightrope and much of the plan had been written while the Kanrin Maru was en route to Japan, given the tight time constraints imposed by the Perry Expedition.

As the small boats guided them into a berth, everybody aboard the Kanrin Maru reviewed the lecture on what to expect from the Nagasaki Bugyô. The two Arleigh Burke destroyers merely made anchor in Nagasaki Bay, daring any other ships to come near to them.

With the diplomatic mega-yacht now anchored near Dejima, the first diplomatic contingent, a selection of Chinese-Californians dressed as Qing-era traders, filed onto one of the motorboats and took off for the artificial island.

Jianhong Chang, who prior to the event had been a postgrad TA at CSUN’s Asian-American studies department, had volunteered to lead the first contact contingent. As the powerboat pulled into a small berth of Dejima and the group stepped off, they were quickly met by a group of officials on behalf of the Nagasaki Bugyô.

“Halt!” Came the order from one of the officials at the docks. “Manifests please.” Came the order form the dock official.

Jianhong pulled out the printed crew and cargo manifests and handed them to the dock officials.

Isamu Ueda, that day’s representative of the Nagasaki merchant community, read over the manifests and only had further questions about the products being brought to Japan by these odd traders.

Placing a Fumi-e, a wooden carving of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, onto the ground, he waved his hand towards the crew and asked them to step on it.

Jianhong was the first and stepped onto the image without hesitation, he was an atheist and had no real love of the church he had grown up in. The interviews for this mission had been designed to screen out anybody who would have been uncomfortable doing this, given Tokugawa Japan’s views towards Christianity at this point in time. Slowly but surely, everybody else from the shore party stepped on the image without issue.

“Hello sirs.” Jianhong began in Chinese. “We are here on behalf of the Republic of California to open up trade between our two peoples.”

The Chinese interpreter repeated this statement to the port officials. As the port officials reviewed the documents provided, occasionally asking for clarification, they compared what the Californian contingent was saying about themselves with the scuttlebutt they had heard from the Dutch and Chinese traders over the past few months.

“So you are the people from the future?” Asked the interpreter.

Trying to keep the surprise that the news of The Event had already reached Nagasaki off of his face, Jianhong simply nodded and said “Yes, from the year 2018.”

———

Nearby at a different Berth, Erwin Van Achteren was even more intrigued by the strangers from the future. When the news broke from America about the ‘state from the future,’ people in Europe had rushed to imagine what kind of life these Californians had lived, and any information about the Californians had been in high demand, and now here they were sailing into Nagasaki and providing the information for the fûsetsugaki for him.

As the crew and port officials continued to talk, Erwin watched as the tension from the Californian crew seemed to melt away and the crew became more relaxed.

As half of the crew seemed to split up and followed some of the port officials into Nagasaki’s Chinatown, the rest of the officials boarded that small boat and it quickly set off for that big white ship.

———

As the small boat sped towards that white ship these Californians had arrived in, Takumi Tachibana looked over the cargo manifest once more, mostly books, some novelty items that they hadn’t heard of, and some rice seeds called “IR64” that promised to grow astronomical amounts of rice in a small amount of land.

Of course, he doubted that everything on board that ship was on this manifest. Case in point, they had to have managed to fit a printing press on board that ship. The documents for this vessel had calligraphy too perfect and too regular to have been done by hand by somebody on a ship that would have been pitching and rolling at sea.

As the small boat reached the Kanrin Maru, Takumi couldn’t help but wonder what kind of treaty these Californians would demand. Considering the information he heard about China through the fûsetsugakis was disheartening, and he could only imagine what kind of unequal treaty California would demand here.

California Governor’s Office of Emergency Services, Sacramento – September 3rd, 1851

Three countdown clocks had adorned the wall of the OES crisis response center since The Event: Fort Tejon, Carrington Event, and ARkStorm. It was a reminder of the three major disasters due to strike the Golden State in a few years, and a remind of the deadlines they had to minimize the damage and loss of life.

With 6 years remaining until the Fort Tejon earthquake, this was the most pressing threat and was the literal “Big One” that OES and FEMA had been dreading to strike in California. A two hundred mile long rupture of the San Andreas fault starting at Parkfield and travelling south towards the Cajon Pass. With so many pieces of vital infrastructure crossing the fault zone, the pending Fort Tejon Earthquake would have drastic effects on the Californian economy. And with Los Angeles being so close to the fault zone, it was likely to have severe effects on that city as well.

But that didn’t even get into how the Fort Tejon earthquake would physically differ from the more recent Loma Prieta and Northridge quakes. Fort Tejon was expected to be a high magnitude quake with the population a long distance from the epicenter, whereas Northridge and Loma Prieta were lower magnitude quakes with nearby epicenters. What this meant in practice was that the Northridge earthquake would be a brief period of very high frequency shaking, whereas Fort Tejon would be a more drawn out earthquake with lower frequency earthquake waves.

To a Californian ducking, covering and holding under a table, it didn't seem like a huge difference, but for structural engineers, the difference had major impacts on the types of structures that would be safest in a quake. A low magnitude short distance quake would affect small single story structures more than tall skyscrapers, but with the high magnitude long distance quakes, the long period waves caused by the distance would cause single story houses to move with the quake but would resonate with taller skyscrapers and cause far more damage to the taller buildings.

Northridge and Loma Prieta were the first type, and Fort Tejon was likely to be the second type, which meant that all of the brand new skyscrapers that had been built in Los Angeles and San Francisco would be in the most danger.

Thus, a preliminary disaster preparation plan was created for the Fort Tejon Quake:
  • Mandatory seismic retrofits of all buildings in California.
  • Demolition of seismically unsound and unsalvageable structures with replacement construction to not begin until 1858.
  • The Tehachapi mountain tunnel for the High Speed rail could not start construction until after the quake.
  • All dams near the quake area would have their levels lowered or drained prior to the expected beginning of the quake and would not be raised again until it is inspected after the quake.

Even if California’s infrastructure managed to survive Fort Tejon quake, the Carrington Event could still do California in. The Carrington Event was the worst solar storm to hit the Earth man had observed. Estimates of its strength ranged from an X10 to an X45. It was most fortunate that the storm had hit Earth in 1859 rather then in 2018. A study done by Lloyd's of London and the United States’ Atmospheric and Environmental Research (AER) in 2013 concluded that had if it had hit a much more technologically dependant Earth like in the one in the 21st century, it would cause $2 trillion in damage in the United States alone and parts of the United States could be left without electricity for up to ten years.

When a solar storm hit, it would induce currents on the long distance transmission lines, sending them into transformers not designed to handle that level of sudden voltage increase, causing permanent damage to them.

Satellites though, were completely unprotected from a solar event.

The Carrington Event was one that had the potential to do untold amounts of economic damage to California, and so the OEM was already piecing together a plan to mitigate the damage:
  • Construct a Manufacturing facility with the capacity to build new utility scale transformers. This was already being done in order to handle the massive rollout of new solar and wind generation capacity.
  • Push for the adoption of household solar wherever possible to decentralize the grid as much as possible.
  • Launch a new solar observation satellite to replace SOHO and STEREO in order to monitor the Sun and offer space weather warnings.
  • Implement disaster anticipation plan to shut down long distance transmission lines when the Carrington Event happens in order to minimize damage.

The ARkStorm scenario, however, was one that the OEM was very familiar with, but it was also the most likely to be butterflied away by the changes brought about by California’s arrival.

To put it bluntly, the ARkStorm scenario is a winter storm season that brings a monstrous amount of precipitation into California via an atmospheric river. A scenario like that had originally been thought to happen once every thousand years, though later estimates would see it be much more frequent. Up until The Event, this had already been a theoretical occurrence that would eventually happen at a future date.

Now though, now they had a historical reference for an actual ARkStorm, one that was looming in front of them. From December of 1861 to January of 1862 of Lost History, it rained in Sacramento for 45 days straight. Combined with the heavy precipitation had been unseasonable warmth causing the Sierra Nevada snowpack to melt early,and as a result Sacramento had been under 30 feet of water and the Central Valley has turned into an inland sea.

While the thousands of dams and diversions would be likely to redirect the floodwaters, it was still likely that if that flooding scenario still happened, the dams would be under considerable strain to store the floodwaters. And if any of these dams have significant structural damage to them from the Fort Tejon quake, the floodwaters could compromise them and innundate the communities downstream of them.

Oddly, making Californian infrastructure survive these coming disasters was the dilemma, and not the planned expansions. Out on the new Interstate projects: 5, 10, and 80, plans were already underway that the new infrastructure would survive these calamities should they occur again. Many of the new transformers and technologies were being tested at the New Reno substation, and creating large scale incentives for solar out on the new-old frontier. It was practical and cost-effective, well more so then rebuilding a national power grid at the very least. Every politician in Sacramento or San Francisco knew there was zero chance the downtime Federal government would contribute any meaningful funds to such endeavors.

M/Y Kanrin Maru - Nagasaki Harbor

Takumi Tachibana looked around the richly decorated cabin. This white ship seemed utterly beyond any other ship that had come into Nagasaki before, from the bright white smooth material it seemed to be made out of—fiberglass, they called it—to the moving images on the bulkheads, and the fact that it could clearly propel itself through the water without the need for sails or the coal fired engines that other western ships had used.

But what caught Takumi’s eye was one of the pieces of art hung on the wall, an inkwash drawing of a very long waterfall. Looking closer at the picture, he saw the plaque next to it that said it was called “Yōsemiti Waterfall” by somebody named “Obata Chiura.” Whoever these Californians were, they obviously understood a great deal about them, and must have had a good number of Japanese people living there, in spite of the Sakoku prohibitions.

It was obvious these people were from the future, considering that this ship was far beyond what most scholars of Dutch Studies thought possible and far beyond any Dutch, Korean or Chinese ships.

But did that mean that their intentions were good? It wasn’t that long ago that China was forced to sign a humiliating treaty with Britain because British merchants were pushing Opium on them. Would these Californians act the same way? Only time would be able to tell.

In the meantime, the Nagasaki bugyô would dutifully carry the message about these white ships from California to the Shogunate in Edo.

Virgin California Flight 7 – Camp Springs Airfield

Jordan Cress and Erin McCoy were both on their trip back from DC. After having to be at congress for a debate about lawnmowers of all things, they were ready to go back to San Jose for a well deserved break.

As they went through the terminal, ready to board the plane, multiple gunshots started being heard. The young couple scrambled onto the plane as the guards and attackers got into a shootout.

“Get on the plane! We are not leaving anyone behind!” Jordan shouted as he pulled out a handgun, providing cover fire for the fleeing passengers boarding the plane. He managed to shoot one of the gunmen in the face.

The attack had caused quite a bit of initial panic in the terminal as the shootout began, but the guards quickly gained the upper hand, the muskets being no match for their automatic weapons. The attackers were quickly mowed down before reaching the gate.

Out of 30 gunmen, 25 were killed. The rest were apprehended and arrested by the local police. The gunmen were later revealed to be a group of slave catchers and slave owners attacking the airfield in retaliation for the sheer amount of slaves escaping via the airfields. Luckily, not a single passenger was killed, but at least 3 guards were injured in the confrontation.

The ensuing legal and political debacle after the attack helped strain the already tense relations between California and the South.

---

Thanks to Rise Comics for writing that last part and to Sumeragi for help with the Kanrin Maru scenes.
 
Capitol Building, Sacramento, CA — September 9th, 1851.

Transcript of Governor Newsom’s speech to the joint assembly of the State Senate and Assembly.

NEWSOM: My Fellow Californians, I stand before you today, a year after the events that saw our great state thrown back into the past. In many respects, we have made great strides towards picking ourselves back up after an absolutely unprecedented supernatural disaster. But we survived, and more than that we thrived. This past year has been a crucible for all Californians, because it revealed the true strength inside of all of us.

When things were at their worst, we didn’t turn our backs on our neighbors and fend for ourselves, we came together as Californians and helped each other out. That is what Californians do, we look out for each other, we care about each other, and we help each other.

California has always been America’s coming attraction. Millions of destinies connected by one dream: to be whoever you want to be. A state where we don’t criminalize diversity, we celebrate diversity.

New Reno, Utah Territory

“Alright watch your heads guys.” Said the foreman of the New 80 construction project. The combined highway and railroad project had been one of many reconstruction projects designed to link California with the rest of the western United States along with the New 5 in Oregon, New 15, and New 8. The hard part, the crossing of the Sierra Nevadas had already been done before The Event, so the most difficult and dangerous part of crossing the continent didn’t need to be done.

Though that didn’t stop the California High Speed Rail Authority from drafting plans for a fully electrified double track crossing at some point in the future. Between the rush of downtime investors who were willing to buy in on the idea of a transcontinental railroad built using the technology of the “future,” and the money raised from the sales of mineral rights to the comstock lode to both uptimers and downtimers, the California High Speed Rail Authority was raking in an unexpected windfall of cash, enough to finish funding the initial operating segment of the LA-SF line.

Fields Landing, CA

The residents of the northern coastal town of Fields Landing watched as yet another oversized truck carrying parts of a large windmill rolled through their town to the port for final assembly and installation offshore.

Maybe 9 months after The Event, they had started bringing the truck through, almost like clockwork, they would come through with some part of a huge windmill. At the CEQA meeting over the project, they pointed out that these windmills would be miles away from shore and barely visible, and that they would be able to provide very constant amounts of electricity from offshore. That had forestalled most of the complaints, given how unreliable the power grid had been since The Event.

So now Fields Landing was the future home to one of six new offshore wind farms, along with Crescent City, Bodega Bay, Morro Bay, Point Conception and Santa Rosa Island. When completed, the offshore wind project would have just under 15 GW of generation capacity, or 40% of California’s existing Generation Capacity.

With the addition of the wind farms and the massive of buildout of solar power in the deserts, California would soon have enough electricity to make the 5 o'clock brownouts a thing of the past.

And it wasn’t like California didn’t have the fossil fuel plants to power the grid, after the Enron-induced energy crisis, the state’s utility companies had built massive amounts of Natural Gas power plants, but prior to the event, most of them were being run below a third of their capacity. The problem had been getting fuel to them, as California imported most of its Natural Gas from the gas fields in the mountain west and Midwest.

But now though, with The Event having happened, and cut off from access to most of their natural gas, California had to rely on the one industry that was very well established in the state.

Renewable Energy.

The UCs had banded together to form a crash program to design a process to make cheap and quick Solar Cells out of Perovskite minerals, an idea that had been theoretically possible, but was now being rushed into production to solve the problem. The wind turbine manufacturers had kit that was destined for wind power projects in the Midwest and Mountain West, and was quietly reappropriated for California wind energy projects.

Soon, it was hoped, that California would once again have a reliable power grid, and one that would be made out of almost entirely renewable energy.

Department of Motor Vehicles, San Francisco

San Francisco had been overwhelmed by The Event, already a place in incredible demand for housing back in 2018, being sent back to 1850 had meant that San Francisco had become the port of call for downtimers entering California. So while the larger city of Los Angeles may still have had a bigger population, it wasn’t as overwhelmed with the arrival of downtimers as the Bay Area had been.

Chinatown in particular had been inundated by the arrival of downtime Chinese immigrants fleeing the Qing Regime and a civil war, leaving the uptime Office of Refugee Resettlement to handle the influx, and behind them was the DMV having to create ID cards for all these new arrivals, so they could access government services.

Ironically, even with the inflow of migration being the literal California Gold Rush, with even more people arriving because of the reporting about the “State from the future,” the number of people arriving in California was still an order of magnitude below what it had been before The Event, owing to the lower total population and the slower speed of information in the 19th century.

For Zhi Chang, the change between Guangzhou and San Francisco had been maddeningly familiar, from the endless bureaucracy of the Qing Dynasty to the bureaucracy of California, it was the universal constant.

“Now serving B 014 at window number 18.” Droned the automated voice. Chang sat in the waiting room, bored, her grasp on English wasn’t the best, but she had picked up enough on the boat over from China to get around. Luckily, the state had been fairly accommodating in terms of providing the paperwork he needed in Chinese.

Pulling out the slip of paper with the Pinyin romanization of her name, she began filling out the application for her ID card.

Far from being hostile to the newcomer, like she had expected, the “Uptime” Californians, many of them Chinese like herself, had welcomed her warmly, and she had found room in a boarding house called an “Air BNB” in San Francisco's Chinatown.

“Now serving H 057 at window number 5.” Came the automated voice. Zhi grabbed her paperwork and walked over to the window.

“Nihao.” Said the DMV worker at the counter. And just like that, Zhi had a feeling that this strange new land of California wouldn’t be so bad after all.

USS Roosevelt, Pacific Ocean

The weeks before the Roosevelt launched had been a crazy time for Karma Tidal. First, she went to Nevada and Phoenix to secure a lot of land deals, and then went to New York and Salt Lake City to secure contracts for her design firm. Of course, she later came to regret going to Salt Lake City, as the Mormon church proved to be very persistent.

Karma’s phone rumbled for the 100th time that day.

“Yeesh, these guys are more obnoxious than those guys in Russia before the event.” said Maria

“Yep, they sure are. I’ve been trying to avoid these guys for months, and they won’t leave me alone.” Karma replied

After that discussion, Karma made her way to her quarters aboard the ship. She then pulled out her laptop and went onto discord. Discord was down at that time.

“The hell? Why is it down?” After a minute, it came back up.

“Finally, it’s back.”

At that very moment, Karma’s phone rang again.

“Of course that happens.”

Camp Springs Secure Area (AKA “Green Zone”) - Camp Springs, Maryland

Thaddeus Wilcox watched as the truck raised up yet another one of those concrete walls. The Californians here had called it a “T-barrier,” on account of it looking like an inverted capital T in profile. To him, all it looked like was a big solid wall being erected around the Californian enclave.

All around the area were signs proclaiming the new security measures around the area. With the walls being put up to funnel everybody into a handful of checkpoints to visit the city, the thousands of Marylanders who had come to visit it had to deal with bag searches, metal detectors, and were barred from bringing firearms into the newly walled city.

“It’s like the Green Zone all over again.” Grumbled the short man next to him.

“I beg your pardon?” Thaddeus asked.

“Downtimer?” He asked.

Thaddeus could only nod at that.

“Okay, so a few years ago the US got it into their heads to go to war in Iraq to steal their oil” The Californian next to him began to explain.

“Iraq?” Thaddeus asked, unfamiliar with the name.

The uptime Californian pulled out a small rectangular device and looked at it for a second. “Okay so like, you know Ottoman Empire?” He asked.

“Of course.” He replied.

“So the easternmost part of that area, where they meet up with Persia. That area?” The Californian explained.

“Vaguely.” Said Thaddeus. “That’s just a bunch of desert though isn’t it?”

“Pretty much, but there’s also a bunch of oil there.” The Californian explained. “And our president at the time came up with a bunch of excuses to steal the oil and occupy the land.”

“Really?” Thaddeus asked.

“Yep.” “So he came up with this whole thing about how Iraq was building these really destructive weapons and how they were really dangerous. So we invaded em, pretty much rolled over any resistance without a fight.”

“So what was the problem them.” He asked.

“The real problem wasn’t the invasion itself, it was the occupation.” He explained. “Every time we left the FOB we never knew who was part of the enemy and who wasn’t. We split the city into a Green Zone and a Red Zone. The Green Zone was all walled off and on the inside it was just like back home, only you were thousands of miles away in a goddamn desert. The Red Zone was everywhere else, and you had to start wearing flak jackets and ride in convoys every time you left the Green Zone.” The uptime Californian pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his jacket and pulled a cigarette out.

“Smoke?” He asked.

Thaddeus shook his head, “Nah. Hear those things’ll kill ya. Thought all you uptimers could read?” he said pointing at the Surgeon General warning label. The uptimer chortled.

“So you think it’s happening here now. Green Zone Camp Springs?” Thaddeus asked.

“Fuck man.” He replied blowing a smoke ring. “It’s lookin’ like it. It’s that or Camp Springs is the new West Berlin.” as he looked out past the chain link fence with barbed wire on top and jersey barriers around the perimeter.

For Thaddeus, that last comment only left him with further questions.

History in Real Time - The Eris Project - September 9, 1950

The early days after the Event were a very hectic time in California’s history. In that time, so many things had changed in an instant. Many chatrooms were created to connect together people of every walk of life who had one thing in common: the Event had changed their lives.

Many logs have been archived by sites like Discord and Whatsapp, but none are more important and more well recorded than this discord server, created sometime before the Event, documenting the events leading up to it as well as the reactions to it in real time. Many influential figures of the past 80 were once a part of this chatroom, from politicians, to artists, and even businessmen to name a few. Their words, thoughts, emotions, and actions were all recorded here as they happened. Without further ado, here are the complete archives of Calexit Über Alles, from its inception till the death of omega13a in October 19, 1948.

Discord - Free voice and text chat for gamers

Boeing Headquarters, Long Beach

After The Event, before commercial airlines were allowed to start flights out of California, what was left of Boeing had the task of coming with how to adapt the current jet aircraft (Airbus, Bombardier, Embraer, Mcdonnell-Douglas, and Boeing) to be able to operate on primitive dirt and gravel runways.

Now that was done, it was now time to design new aircraft more suitable for use in the 1850s, aircraft that can fly on a large variety of routes while bypassing ETOPS certification. It would have been simpler if they could come up with just one design that would fit all needs, but that proved to be impossible. The most suitable designs for flights outside of California was too large for use inside of California and what would be ideal for use inside of California had too few engines to be used safely outside of California. In the end, they ended up with two aircraft designs.

One was for a wide-bodied tri-jet that some described as looking like the result of a one night stand between a DC-10 and a 787. That design was being called the 797 as the design for a ‘middle of the market’ aircraft had been scrapped.

The other design was similar to the old 727 with a T-tail and three tail mounted engines, one of which was fed with an S-duct inlet. There were differences though that prevented it from being considered part of the 727 family. The windows of the cockpit were flush with the nose cone like the more recent aircraft designed in lost history prior to The Event. Its engines would also incorporate the latest advances in noise reduction. After much debate, it was decided to refer to this design as the 7107 (seven-ten-seven).

Gustavo’s Bar and Inn - El Paso

Gustavo’s Bar and Inn in El Paso had become the go to hangout in El Paso, all thanks to having one of the first arcade machines outside of California. After the Californian technician installed the solar panel(or so he called it), the machine had trouble making money, and then that technician offered to demonstrate it for the patrons.

Soon after that, everyone was lining up to try the machine, and Gustavo Marrenda, the owner of the bar, was getting very rich off of the profits.

As Marrenda looked at the line in front of the cabinet, he saw a new way to make a profit and expand the offerings available. He had heard from the technician about arcades, places where they have many cabinets like the one in the bar.

At that moment, he decided the course he wanted to take. Since the technician installed a satellite dish on the roof along with the solar panel and battery pack, he could call anyone in California. Marrenda took the brick of a phone he was given and made a few calls. He was going to go on a business trip.

Six months later, Gustavo’s Bar and Inn was renovated and renamed as Gustavo’s Bar and Gaming, and became the centerpiece of a new industry in the downtime world.

California Flight Services, Santa Monica

A Bombardier CRJ was on final approach to Santa Monica Airport. On board the plane were 40 downtimers, comprised mainly of people who came from Britain, Mexico, America, and Hawaii, with some from other countries. But they were all here for one purpose: to train as pilots.

Ever since a C-17 from California flew the uptime senators to Camp Springs, and regular air service started back up, the world had been enamored with flight. People and goods could reach places further and faster than ever before. And other nations wanted to create airlines of their own.

California was very(properly) worried that downtime airlines would have very high accident rates from cheaping out on pilot training and plane maintenance. They cited accidents like Nigeria Airways Flight 2120, Alaska Airlines Flight 261, China Airways Flight 611, and Emery Worldwide Flight 17 to back this up.

After a lot of debate, California, as well as the three Californian airlines, agreed to lease planes and provide management to downtime airlines. In return for that, all aircraftpurchases/leasing for the first decade will have to be approved by the Californian government, as well as all pilot and mechanic training being done in California. To facilitate this, a new agency, called California Aircraft Leasing Program (CALP), was created. CALP coordinated with several governments and entrepreneurs to send personnel over to train in California, with the training being paid for by both CALP and the downtime governments/entrepreneurs.

And that’s why Michael Kamaka was here. He had volunteered to go to California as a part of the Hawaiian Government’s plan to create a national airline called Ka Lani Hawaii. As there were no airstrips in Hawaii, Kamaka and several others were sent via ship to Los Angeles. When the ship arrived at port, the large group of 120 downtimers from various nations sent by their countries were shuttled to the airport via charter buses. There, the group were split based on training. The people training to be mechanics boarded a plane for Long Beach, while the pilots boarded another plane to Santa Monica. As the plane parked at the airfield, the door opened up into a set of stairs reaching the tarmac. A group of people, presumably the instructors, walked towards the arriving passengers...

Hualapai Indian Lands - New Mexico Territory

The improvised meeting room–a repurposed portable building–was packed to the brim with people for this CEQA public outreach meeting about the New Hoover Dam Project. As the Hualapai filtered into the room, they walked past the wall showing 3D renderings of the planned dam and topographic maps of the new reservoir, lost history photos of the dam, and a plaster model of the new dam.

While the emergency acts passed after The Event created an exemption category for projects that had a “significant similarity” to projects that existed outside of California before The Event, that didn’t fully exempt them from CEQA, which had led to this meeting.

For Carla Avendano, project lead for the New Hoover Dam, these public outreach meetings could make or break the project. Her purpose here was to pitch the dam and the lake it would create to the Hualapai people so that they could understand the benefits for them.

In the end, it had been the information she had been able to gather from the uptime Hualapai tribe’s website, the Native American studies departments of several of the UC’s and CSU’s, as well as one of the few remaining speakers of their language who happened to have been vacationing at Disneyland when the Event had happened who had helped them come up with a plan.

The New Hoover Dam was vastly more complex than the original dam that had been built in 1936, design modifications had to be made to modernize it and offset the known environmental impacts caused by the historical construction of the dam. A silt tunnel would bypass the dam and allow the silt from the upstream Colorado River to continue flowing downstream, heaters would heat the water coming out of the hydroelectric turbines to match the temperature of the water to what it was before it entered Lake Mead, and fish bypass channels would allow the Colorado River’s native fish species like the humpback chub, razorback sucker, Colorado pikeminnow, bluehead sucker, flannelmouth sucker, speckled dace, roundtail chub, and bonytail to pass by the lake and dam without issue.

As Carla continued through her PowerPoint about the project, she could see the metaphorical light bulbs go on in people’s heads as she and her interpreter explained the project. Deciding that honesty was the best way to go, she explained that what California got out of it was the electricity from the turbines, and a more predictable downstream flow for Parker Dam and Lake Havasu. The water from Lake Mead was too distant for them to make use of, so it was being offered to the Hualapai, Havasupai, Mohave, Paiute, and Chemehuevi with the strong suggestion that each nation come together to form a Joint Powers Agency to determine the water and irrigation rights to the new Lake Mead.
 
Headlines from California

As Criticism of PG&E Mounts, California Public Utility Commission Announces Plans to Nationalize Electrical Grid - SFGate.com

USS Roosevelt Arrives In Hawaii - LA Times

New Gerald Desmond Bridge Finishes Construction, Bridge to be Renamed the “Ernest S. McBride Sr. Bridge” After Civil Rights Leader. - Long Beach Press Telegram

UCLA, CalTech and California Space Agency Launch Weather Satellite to Monitor Pacific Ocean. - Pasadena Daily Star

First New Solar Panels and Batteries Roll off the Lines at Victorville GigaFactory. - Desert Sun

Marin County Smallpox Outbreak Reaches 250 Victims. Public Health Officials Urge Vaccinations - San Jose Mercury News

Infill Development is about to get easier in the state, Weiner’s CEQA Overhaul Bill Passes Assembly and Senate, heads to Governor Newsom’s Desk - SF Weekly

California Semiconductors Plans new 32nm Fabrication Plant on Site of Former Sunnyvale Costco - Curbed SF

LA 2028 to be Reorganized Into “California Expo,” a Showcase of California’s Scientific and Technological Innovation. - Los Angeles Daily News

Exclusive: Controversial Central Valley Grower Wonderful Company Has Been Hoarding Warehouses Full of Food in an Attempt to Undermine CalEFDA - Los Angeles Times, January 15th, 1852

In the San Joaquin Valley, the breadbasket of California, a series of temporary warehouses have been popping up on farmland owned by The Wonderful Company. According to statements by The Wonderful Company, these warehouses are for storing additional equipment for maintaining the farms. However, an anonymous source within The Wonderful Company alerted the Times to the fact that the tent structures are in fact being used to store food products.

Under the Emergency Food Distribution Act, the State of California, through the California Emergency Food Distribution Agency, is given first priority for buying food from agricultural producers, from there they distribute the food to various local distribution centers set up in former grocery stores. Under the terms of the EFDA, the state must accept the current market price for the goods they purchase from farmers. Since the Event threw California back into the past, the market prices for several agricultural commodities, such as fruits, nuts, and vegetables have dropped dramatically, while other staple foodstuffs have risen in price.

Documents obtained by the Times show that in the months after The Event, The Wonderful Company placed an order for a large climate-controlled tent to be constructed at one of their farms in Kings County. According to their permit application to Kings County, this facility was to be used as a rest area for farm workers. However, in speaking with several workers at the farm on the condition on anonymity, none of them have been permitted into the tent.

When asked about these tent facilities, a spokesperson for The Wonderful Company said that the tents were a temporary storage facility until CalEFDA trucks could pick up the goods. However, according to our unnamed source, the tents are built to get harvested produce off the books that Wonderful reports to CalEFDA, effectively decreasing the produce they have available to sell to CalEFDA, and raising the price and placing taxpayers on the hook for the difference.

Once CalEFDA has made their weekly purchase from the farm, other buyers will show up to purchase the stockpiled produce on the black market at reduced prices.

When asked for comment, a representative for CalEFDA expressed surprise at the results that the Times investigation had shown and promised to look further into it.


181 Fremont Street - San Francisco

Jessie Benton Fremont considered herself a fast learner to the new California. But there were still times when the things that the New Californians did would surprise her. In this case, it was that her daughter’s studies at school that has surprised her this time. After all, most people don’t tend to find themselves in the history books for things they haven’t done yet.

But here in the books about California’s Lost History was a bit about John, her husband, running for president in a few years. Oh according to the books he didn’t win in 1856 but he had moved the Overton Window, as the Californians would call it, away from the idea of tacit acceptance of the most abominable of institutions.

Next year would be too early, the world was still getting over the shock of California, but in 4 years and with a lot of help from some of the Californians, John might stand a chance.

The Juneteenth Protests had opened America’s eyes to the rapidly diminishing popularity of slavery, and if they could keep the slavery supporters playing defense politically for the next four years, then John and her just might have a shot at the White House.

Besides, she knew that one of the Uptime Senators from California, Kamala Harris, had been considering running for President before the Event happened. She would know how to run a 21st century campaign.

The United States Capitol - Washington D.C.

How unexpected a situation was this? He had sewn up the Leadership, but getting that accolade during the largest blue wave in history had slown his ambition. His seat was safe, but up until Midnight the caucus was down to a scant 200 members. He had been in a conference call with the White House and Mitch discussing legislative strategy when the Event happened… In a blink of an eye the rest of the world except California was gone. Sure he had been elected to congress, and he was the leader of the GOP in the Uptime Remnant congress… Yeah… all dozen members of it. With people like LaMalfa, Hunter, and others. As bad as the house looked like after the Blue Wave that was nothing compared to here. Fox News would have been going nuts over “President Pelosi”. Being out of government also gave him a new perspective. Being outside of it meant he had no power. Head of the California GOP… now reduced to waiting outside the House of Representatives.

The entire Congressional Delegation for California had visited DC, and even purchased a pair of townhouses, hoping that all 53 of them would be sat. He had worked with Pelosi to try and have them all seated, but the Downtime Congress was having none of it. They had only allowed California to seat the two representatives they were allowed, and by the rules of the current congress, he didn’t get a seat… Jared and Barbara got those seats. It had originally been his idea that some members of the Uptime Congressional Delegation would sit in the gallery, but the Downtime Congress was adamant… So there was a rotating cycle of congressmen who stood in the Gallery, but it was clear that this congress was no less obstinate than the one back home. Those two townhouses were likely going to become the part time congressmen sitting in the downtime Congress. Two representatives representing nearly 20 million people a piece.

Leaning against one of the pillars he was checking his phone, trying to manage the fractious and impotent GOP in California via texts, calls and phone interviews with Nunes’ Newspaper while the Downtime Congress blustered about having sheep to keep the National Mall cut. He looked up when he heard the Speaker call a recess. Many Downtime Congressmen were unwilling to give them the time of day, others who thought they were important figures were miffed to find history chose otherwise, others well couldn’t be associated with. Even after the post-event unity there was no way in hell he’d let a GOP member take a meeting with Jeff Davis.

Yet a southern gentleman smiled and approached him, “Ah, I take it you are one of the esteemed gentleman from California. I was wondering if we might have a few words?”

Kevin tried going through the list of Congressmen, but he didn’t remember this one, but he extended his hand to shake, “Of course. I would be happy to have an opportunity to discuss the business of the House.”

The southern gentleman chuckled, “I’m afraid I must inform you that you are not a congressman here. Only in your little Uptime remnant.” but smiled leading Kevin to the man’s office in the Capitol building. “Two whiskies, George,” stated the southerner to his servant. Kevin looked at the man’s office. In his own time, this room was home to Capitol police, and the nineteenth century fixtures were remodelled long ago. The stove was gone, as was the gas lamp fixtures. The wooden furniture was hard oak without any concessions to comfort. Pictures of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson decorated one wall, the rest taken up by shelves of books. “I would imagine that you are unaccustomed to offices like this. One can only imagine the wonders of comfort available in the 21st century.” The servant returned with the whiskies and placed them on the table without comment, moving to leave. Kevin hastily said thanks to the man, earning him an odd look from the southern congressman, but he was more interested in pressing onwards.

“Now then, it is clear to me from perusing some of your literature that our country is truly facing dire crises, and your insertion may precipitate its acceleration” he said wrapping his knuckles on a three volume stack of work by Shelby Foote on the Civil War.

Kevin nodded, sipping his whisky… he’d gotten use to downtime whisky and uptime supplies were running out after all. “Yes, while I won’t bore you with uptime politics, myself and my own party believe that the United States must remain united.”

The southern gentleman nodded, “I agree, our nation must change to enshrine certain cornerstones of our republic. I have sketched some ideas and am curious as to an uptimer perspective.” he stated hading a sheaf of paper to Kevin.

Kevin began looking through it… Integration of wages for previously unpaid labor… Enshrining states rights when it pertains to local commercial and domestic affairs… Creating a set upon federal standard for citizenship, but keeping the 19th century standards of senate members and electors… Ultimately, it was what they were looking for. The GOP was trying to push the idea of remaining in the Downtime United States, but they were lacking partners in the Downtime Congress for that. This… while still a long way from a final deal that most of California would accept but could probably pass the Uptime Remnant.

“This is a good start to bridging the gap, although I’m sure this is a tough sale to the House.”

The Southern gentleman nodded and smiled, “Yes, but given the alternative?” he said gesturing to the stack of books, “Many understand the outcome of their stasis. It is my hope that this bill will become the cornerstone of our UNITED States. Come 1860, I’m sure that some more of your representatives can sit. I’m sure you understand that seating 53 House members for one state is quite absurd to us, only New York has over 30.

That would be tricky… but it wasn’t that unreasonable given the circumstances. One state shouldn’t dictate to the nation, after all. The Southern Gentleman smiled, “In fact, I’ve taken to adopting the policy myself. Despite being paid wages, George still knows his place.”

“George?” Kevin asked.

The southerner smiled, “Yes George, the negro who served you that fine whisky.”

Kevin wasn’t sure what his response to that should be, “I… see… You freed him, and are paying him wages?”

The southerner chuckled, “No… freeing a slave even for me would be a bridge too far, but as an experiment, I paid him wages instead of letting him stay in the basement. It’s been remarkable for expanding my wine cellar.”

Kevin swallowed, “...and where does George… live?”

The southerner smiled, “I’m not really sure, but that satisfies your states obsession with the institution, does it not?”

George knocked and answered, “Excuse me Mas- Mister Stephens. You wished to be told five minutes before the house returned to session.”

Kevin’s face paled… Stephens… Alexander Stephens, he’d never seen an 1850s photo of the man. The future Vice President of the Confederacy, the man who commanded much of the House votes in the South before the Civil War. Then it struck him, this bill he was proposing wasn’t reform… This was appeasement to California. From that light it was easy to see how the southern states could enshrine white supremacy, put California in a box and forget about its “irregular politics”. The southerners could lead the charge to a 14th amendment that established legal protection of the law based on race. Separate but Equal… in that environment? No court would ever rescind it without the 14th amendment.

Stephens began to stand, “Excuse me. This has been a fruitful meeting Mr. McCarthy and I must return to the House. Please enjoy your brandy, George will show you out when you finish.” and with that Alexander Stephens left. George entered the room and began cleaning up after Stephens.

Kevin cleared his throat, “George was it?”

George immediately stopped cleaning, “Yes sir? Was I too noisy?

Kevin shook his head, “No, not at all. I was wondering if you could answer some questions?”

George paused, “I… can answer what I can, sir.”

Kevin looked at him, he was wearing a suit that was extensively tailored but didn’t fit him that well. Probably was one of Stephen’s old suits. “Mr. Stephens said he was paying you a wage? How much do you make a day?”

“35 cents sir” George responded.

Kevin grimaced at that, that was far below average the usual daily wage for 1850s. “That’s not enough for living arrangements is it? Where do you sleep?

“I live on Anacostine Island, sir.”

Kevin had been in DC for years and never heard of it, “What?”

George cleared his throat, “You would know it as Theodore Roosevelt Island, sir.”

He filed that piece of information away. Uptime information was proliferating rapidly downtime. Knowledge of more and more details of the future are leaking. “Are there a lot of African Americans living there?”

George looked surprised, “Never heard that term spoken before, sir, at least by your kind. Must say I like it better than most, but I suppose there are a fair amount living on Anacostine. Frederick Douglass is going to speak there Sunday.”

Kevin nodded, the future was already changing the past… and the past wasn’t learning from the mistakes of the future. They were learning the wrong lessons. Looking at the sheaf of papers in his hand from Stephens he knew right then, that California didn’t have a future in these United States. They were simply too different. He stood and left to go back to the townhouse… There was nothing he could do in this Congress, it seemed.

Pulling out his cell phone, he fired off a quick message to a few of his Republican colleagues. Many were already losing faith in any sort of reconciliation between California and the Downtime United States. This simply proved it. There was no way that the Congress would ever allow a state that matched the rest of the states combined in population. He pondered what this new 19th century would be…. and curious if California would remain independent or take notes from Bismarck. He took a moment to admire the old dome upon the Capitol before turning to walk down the street back to the townhouses purchased by California on K Street… and for the second time that week he regretted not bringing a pair of boots on DC’s muddy streets.

House Chambers (Hall E) - Moscone Center - San Francisco, January 10th, 1852

Rep. Lou Correa was tired. As a member of the so-called “Rump House,” he was working himself out of a job and he knew it. When The Event happened, all the members of California’s congressional delegation had quickly flown up to San Francisco and had commandeered the Moscone Center and turned the convention center into an impromptu Capitol Building. Their immediate job had been to keep the lights on for all the federal agencies in California. As a result, this had decimated the House Delegation in order to fill cabinet positions in the Moscone Government’s executive branch.

The aim of the Legal Rationalization Project on paper was very simple, go through all the various federal laws and agencies present in California, and identify a state equivalent and how it differs, and then send a bill to his colleagues in Sacramento yo modify the state law to match the federal law if the state law was more lenient, and repeal the relevant federal law. The end result was a simplified single legal code for California that allowed business to continue as usual in spite of the uncertainties over downtime versus uptime governance.

It was a unique quirk of California that they would often–for lack of a better term–beta test many of the more landmark pieces of federal legislation, and the state equivalent laws were often more stringent than the corresponding federal laws. Before there was the Clean Water Act there was Porter-Cologne, before there was the Clean Air Act there was Mulford-Carrell, etc… So many of the changes ended up being very subtle amendments to the existing laws, followed by a repeal of the relevant federal law.

Taken out of context, President Pelosi appeared to be the biggest deregulator in American history, having cut federal programs that uptime Republicans had long wanted to eliminate in favor of beefing up the relevant state law. In practice, very little would actually change.

In front of him was the results of his part of the project, the Americans with Disabilities Act. Like in other cases, California had passed their own variation of the ADA before Washington. And while the two laws were broadly similar, there were still thousands of minute differences. Most of these had already been amended and changed to conform to the ADA in cases where Washington learned from California’s experience and made the relevant adjustments, but there were still a few difference to hammer out. Those had now been passed by the state legislature, and now the ADA had been rendered moot.

As the new speaker of the house gave him the floor, Correa brought the proposed bill to the floor.

“Madam Speaker, as part of the legislative rationalization program, I am introducing a new bill before the Congress.” He spoke up. “H.R. 5835, Americans with Disabilities Act Rationalization.”

He struggled to wince at the bill’s title and prayed that he hadn’t just sunk his political career if somebody took that statement out of context.

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii - October 2nd, 1851

The Roosevelt, after 10 weeks of sailing, had arrived at Pearl Harbor. Her arrival had been hyped for a while for many reasons, the prince being on board being one of them. As it entered the harbor, onlookers started rushing in to watch the impossibly gigantic ship. The ship had started to slow down as it came close to the harbor, when a strange cigar shaped craft unfurled its wings and what looked like large fans, and flew off of the deck of the ship and made its way to the beach.

The craft’s fans tilted, accelerating it faster towards the beach. As soon as it neared the beach, the fans tilted back up, slowing it to a hover. It gracefully landed on the beach where the assembled throng of Hawaiians were gathered.

The rear of the craft opened up into a ramp. From the ramp came a good number of people, a couple of uptime Californians, the Hawaiian entourage, three identical tan vehicles, or Humvees as the uptimers had called it, and the crown prince of Hawaii, Prince Liholiho.

The uptimers, entourage, and the prince all boarded the Humvees and drove towards the palace.

‘Iolani Palace

“-and that’s where we plan on setting up the airstrip.”

King Kamehameha was listening to a presentation from a Gensler executive. As she went through the presentation, the King was impressed and saddened by the future.

That Hawaii would be subject to US imperialism saddened him, but he was amazed at the advancements made in the future. At this point, he had already witnessed some of the miracles of California when the USNS Mercy came into port almost a year ago, but the miracles themselves still haven’t lost their wonder.

“So, where will the airport be located?” He asked.

“It’s most likely to be in Honolulu, but there’s going to be more surveys to determine the best location for the airport to allow for expansions in the future.”

The King pondered for a moment before accepting the airport proposal, before the exec was dismissed. After that, he started planning a visit to the Roosevelt the very next day.

Vallco Shopping Mall / CRC Center Santa Clara & San Mateo Counties - Cupertino, California - October 2nd, 1851

Before the Event, this mall was slated for demolition, a ballot measure and a developer unwilling to pay out of their own pocket had created a mall that simply had no stores at all in it. Odd considering that right across the freeway was Apple Park, yet that was the situation at the heart of Silicon Valley. After the event the mall stayed closed for a few weeks before the California Redevelopment Corps seized the mall and it became a one-stop job center for San Mateo and Santa Clara counties. Thousands of tech workers and other employees were out of jobs and as a result the mall had become a sort of non-stop job fair. The old JCPenney’s over the year had become the Administrative offices for the CRC of the two counties, the old Macy's had become (with several temporary partitions) classrooms, or conference rooms, and the old Sears became known as the “Hopper”. It was never officially called that, but the Hopper was where the queue began and you would receive your number for job evaluation and placement. Some days it was as bad as the DMV, others not so much and it was sadly a reality that the job market after a year was still as erratic as it was that the CRC stayed busy at least in the big cities. In Silicon Valley there was an over abundance of college educated tech workers, and Google, Apple and other simply didn’t need that many programmers anymore, their teams were dedicated to handling the globe, and after the event… Google was valued at less than 400 million, and had left the Googleplex for cheaper offices. Apple was trying to keep things going but it had some layoffs especially in retail. While CRC centers like the ones at Vallco were within almost throwing distance of Apple, they had no job listings for tech workers. There were however many job listings for apprenticeships for electricians, linemen and other such jobs.

“This is taking too damn long,” said Erin Sanchez.

The intercom rang out in the waiting area, “Now serving X-566 at Window number 23” briefly being louder than the CNN on the TVs in the waiting room. It had been a year since the event and finding work had been difficult, her job vanished only a month or so afterwards. What was the point of a shipping manager when all the ports and shipments her company got were from overseas, or to customers across the country.

“Finally. It’s been three hours.”

Erin had come here once before, and they asked her stuff about what she did before the event as well as about her hobbies, those being working on her car and fixing old tech. She made her way to the window, and sat down at the chair.

The man behind the counter smiled, “Morning Ms. Sanchez, you’ve brought your appropriate IDs today, correct?” he asked, starting to pull up her information. “You got your California ID or Driver’s License? We also take passports, pre-Event Out of State IDs, and Social Security cards. Thankfully you were born in California so you should have been able to get your birth certificate at the very least.”

“Got my ID,” Erin said, as she pulled out her California Driver’s License. “Made sure I brought my passport just in case. Even got my birth certificate.”

“Good, good, you also took the skill proficiency exams. I swear CRC’s probably rented out half the hotel event centers in the state for us.” He began typing the information onto the screen. “All right, so it’s been a year since the event, what brings you back to us?”

“I’m currently out of a job and can’t afford to help provide for my wife and kid after the next month. My last job was in retail, you could imagine how well that turned out.”

The man grimaced. Big Box stores failed only a month or so after the Event, once the initial buying blitz past, there was no new product coming in. Samsung was gone, Walmart Trucks weren’t going up and down I-5, Best Buy and Electronics stores went first, but after 3 months even WalMarts, and other stores were closing up. It had led to a huge glut in real estate, as strip malls laid empty. “Yeah I see. Worked for Dick’s Sporting Goods but I’m guessing the regional manager finally consolidated your store out of existence. I myself worked for a brokerage firm before the event, before getting this job.” He folded his hands and looked at her, “How far away from your place of residence can you work? Further out the more options, and we aren’t obligated to place you if there’s no job available if your specified area is too small.”

“I can do about an hour from home at most. Good thing that traffic has decreased since the Event.”

The man flipped through pages on his computer. “Well… UC Mountain View is full. Unfortunately a lot of the tech jobs that are around would involve moving to Barstow, Redding or out near Castle AFB… Downtime Survey Corps is always hiring. The Bay Area itself…” he kept pressing buttons. “Ok. You mentioned you had background in mechanical engineering and drafting right? You got 70% on CAD proficiency, I see. How’s San Ramon for a commute?”

“I can do that.”

He printed out the proper forms and handed it to Erin. “Well, better go and wow them. Chevron’s just a little bit past the old theaters, try and ignore the old Optometry signage.” he said, “Anything else?”

“Other than health insurance coverage and agreeable hours, I’m good.”

Erin proceeded out into the mall proper, where this previously was a nearly abandoned mall, storefronts were opened with simple waterproof banners over the old signs. Victoria’s Secret was now home to the AFL-CIO reps, an old set of Game stores was home to Bechtel, and a few smaller employers were set up in the kiosks. Once passing the old theaters and the still closed Cold Stone Creamery, she arrived at one of the larger storefronts for Chevron. She ignored that the banner was plastered over an old Optometry sign, and proceeded to reception.

“Hi, welcome to Chevron. We have several positions available all across the state for Security, Drivers, and Refinery Technicians. Would you like a brochure?” the receptionist said grabbing a set of brochures from the desk.

“Sure” said Erin, as she takes the brochure and reads through it. The brochure was bland, and likely was stockpiled in a box before the Event, if the map of “Chevron Fuel Centers” on the back across the United States was any indication, but the canary yellow paper handouts were printed after the event, as they listed jobs for securing trucks from obstacles on the Long 5.

“I’d like to take a job in San Ramon as a Refinery Technician.” said Erin to the receptionist.

“Of course you can use the application termina-” before she noticed the paper from the CRC in Erin’s hand. “I’m sorry did you have a specific listing in mind? May I?” she said asking for the paper.

“Go ahead” said Erin, as she handed the CRC paper to the receptionist.

The receptionist looked over the paperwork, “Oh. Just a moment” and walked to one of the offices, and emerged with a person in a business suit, “Ms. Sanchez, welcome to Chevron. I hear you met the requirements for the jobs in Oil Exploration and Development. Please come in and we can begin the interview.” she said, escorting Erin to one of the old doctor’s offices, which had been fitted with a 4 person conference table and two briefcases and a laptop at one end.

“Thanks. I am hoping to get a job as a Refinery Technician, preferably at San Ramon.”

The recruiter smiled, “Actually we have a position that involve utilizing your CAD skills. How’d you like to be part of a team that designs the multi million pieces of pipe segment we need to get to Houston, once we get the surveying done?”

“That would be great.”

Maryland Court of Appeals

The Maryland Court of Appeals was packed today, as this case, although it was one of many related cases, was an important one for many reasons.

First, it was to be the most publicized court case in the downtime world up to that point, and near the airfields, people flocked to TVs to watch the case in real time.

Second, it concerned the Airlines, specifically their practice of filling in seats with escaping slaves from the south.

Third, this case could decide the path California takes,although some were claiming that it was a foregone conclusion.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” said the judge. “Please state your names for the record.”

And so the first trial for the future began…


The Cannonball Runners - Jalopnik - October 2nd, 1870

In the days immediately after the Event, logistics companies like FedEx and UPS were in a very serious financial situation. Like everyone else in California, the Event had cut them off from the rest of the Uptime world. While they were adapting to the new situation, and before their merger into the new Californian Airlines, they found ways to maintain theirefficiency, deliver at affordable costs to smaller businesses, and remain afloat, if only for a little while longer.

One of these ways was the use of subcontractors to deliver packages between cities and towns as soon as possible. These subcontractors often used their own cars to deliver packages along highways. And since the California Highway Patrol were busy with border control, it resulted in a minimal presence at most on the highways, attracting the street racing crowd to those jobs. With modified performance cars, taking advantage of reduced traffic immediately after the Event, these drivers sped along the highways to deliver packages as fast as possible to their destinations. And not even fuel rationing or driver restrictions would stop these drivers from doing their jobs, as they would often alternate between cars for this exact purpose. These drivers became known as Cannonball Runners, after the road rallies and films in Lost History.

As the freeways grew northward and eastward into thedowntime territories, the Cannonball Runners followed. They were able to ferry medical supplies, mail, and small packagesvery quickly in a time where air and rail travel were hampered by a lack of infrastructure. Eventually, the construction of new airports and rail lines supplanted the Cannonball Drivers.These drivers, now out of work, kept racing on the freeways, forming the first post-event car culture: Highway Racing.
 
An Omake exactly one person on SV asked for
Light Household, Massachusetts - 1852

The Light family was an upper middle class family in Lowell. The dad, Robert, was a clerk at the local bank. The mom, Anarka, cared for the kids, of which there were a lot. Their oldest daughter, Bonnie, had left her job at a local mill a few months ago to travel to California, and the oldest sons had followed suit, apparently on plane tickets from home. For a while, there was little contact, until a letter came in addressed to them.

“Rob, there’s a letter for us.” said Anarka. “It’s from California.”

“Open it up” Robert replied.

Anarka opened the envelope, and found a letter immaculately printed in a font that looked streamlined, along with a bunch of photos.

“It’s from Bonnie” she said. And she also sent some pictures.”

“Let’s hear what it says. It’s been a while since she last wrote to us.”

Anarka opened the letter and read it aloud.

Dear Mother and Father

Sorry for taking this long to reply, but I’ve started a new life in California, and it is like Heaven on Earth. The future people, or uptimers as they call themselves, live a life that no one back home can imagine. Self-Propelled streetcars and automobiles drive across the streets and roads of California. Highways and rails cut across the landscape and halve the travel time between cities, and that’s not even mentioning air travel. Yes, California has the ability to make aircraft, which makes air travel possible. And that’s how I came here.

Speaking of travel, I recently got a job that involves travel. I’m delivering packages across California. It isn’t as strenuous as you would think. I get to sit in a plush seat inside an automobile, or car as it’s better known here. It’s also faster than going by horseback and it pays me well. No need to worry about my safety.

With regards,

Bonnie

P.S: here’s a few photos that show Californian life
<Insert photos here>

“At least she’s safe” said Anarka. “Remember how often she got into trouble?”

“I remember those, especially that incident in Boston. But these pictures are nice.”​
Meanwhile on I-5

“FUCK YEAH” Bonnie shouted, as she thundered down the highway at 180 mph in a Challenger Hellcat.
 
The Long, Sad, and Hilarious Story of Trump City - Current Affairs - April 14th, 1855
On a map of Oregon Territory is a small dot located on the northern bank of Lake Abert called “Trump City.” Take a four wheel drive along the dirt road that follows the former route of US 395 into the Oregon Territory, and you’ll find a collection of decaying shacks and shipping containers. This is all that remains of Trump City.
When The Event happened, the few supporters of the 45th President had been as shocked as everyone else. The disruptions to the Internet had caused many of the online communities they had used to organize on to vanish from the Internet, with only Reddit’s The_Donald being the only place they had left, before Reddit’s management shut it down.
In response to their marginalization, these Trump Supporters decided that the best course was to establish a settlement in Oregon. In their words, it was the only way to “escape the oppression of the libtards in Sacramento*.” Over Whatsapp and Discord, they organized a fleet of vehicles and materials to build a settlement in Oregon Territory. They eventually settled on the northern bank of Lake Abert. On February 2, they took their supplies, and headed to the location of their new settlement, dubbed Trump City.
The new settlers pulled no stops in making their new settlement, even going so far as to issue their own currency, styled after the pre-event bills, on printer paper, that wasn’t even laminated. The currency was in the pre-event style, but had a photo of Trump on the front(varies by denomination) and, surprisingly, a risqué photo of Melania Trump on the back. However, stuff like this would never make up for the tremendous fuckup that was Trump City.
Not even a month after the establishment of Trump City, problems started popping up. First, Lake Abert has a high salt content, which causes rust. Considering that a good deal of the homes were trailers and containers, this caused corrosion to start. But the more immediate result was the fact that they couldn’t grow enough crops to sustain Trump City.
On paper, this wasn’t much of a problem. They had brought enough food to last at least a year with proper rationing, as well as some seeds that could withstand the salt rich soil.
But another problem, one that exacerbated the first, was the fact that a good chunk of Trump City was made of conservative boomers and former members of sites like 4chan or r/The_Donald. Many Trump City settlers were not prepared for the problems that faced them.
In the first year, the harvest was half of the initial prediction, forcing them to start cutting into their reserves to live. This prompted some to bail out early, a move that with hindsight, proved to be wise.
Back in Oregon, Trump City was busy with maintaining and expanding its patchwork infrastructure. With a wood Gasifier, they were able to maintain diesel generators for electricity and provide fuel for the diesel trucks, RVs, and even one person’s Volkswagen Jetta.
However, the food problem loomed over Trump City no matter what. So some settlers tried to contact downtime settlements in Oregon. Talks were getting places, up until they tried paying for things with the Trump City currency. So by the time the next harvest came in, their reserves had completely run out.
As a result, the first major “wave” of Trump City settlers started flowing into California, some getting arrested for various crimes, including stealing a gasifyer and robbing a convenience store for Doritos.
Meanwhile, Trump City was still suffering. Not only had the downtime Oregonians refused to trade with the Trump City settlers, they also ran out of reserves. As a result, the town quickly died out due to desertion, starvation, and downright idiotic decisions. What was left was the decaying row of shacks, containers, and a Jetta somehow still in decent condition three years later.
*their words

Leimert Park Metro Station - April 10th, 1852

For Moses Sutton, Los Angeles was a breath of fresh air. In the year and a half since he had come to California as a stowaway, there were so many things that he had come to appreciate.

Standing at the railroad platform underground, it felt like his life had gone full circle. He had gotten out of the south on the underground railroad and had decided to try his luck in the goldfields of California.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the captain to find him stowing away. But clearly God had been with him and the Captain let him work off his passage, on the condition that he hide when they were in port, so as not to tip off any bounty hunters who’d see any black person as a runaway.

It was when the ship got into San Diego that he had noticed that things were different. He had been led into an enormous building next to the harbor, one that he would later learn was called a convention center, and looked over by a doctor, stuck with needles so that he wouldn’t get sick anymore and sat in a theater with a bunch of others while a video had explained how California was from the future.

It had been happenstance that he had ended up meeting some members of the Democratic Socialists of Los Angeles who had put him in contact with California bureaucrats willing to look the other way, and now as far as anybody knew, Moses Sutton had been born in Gardena in 1995, grew up bouncing between Huntington Park and Willowbrook and was now going to Long Beach City College to study engineering.

As he looked down the platform, he saw the lights of an approaching train illuminate the tunnel. He couldn’t help but realize the irony of it, the Underground Railroad had gotten him out of the south, and now here he was, standing on a platform waiting for a train on a literal underground railroad.

California House - Washington DC.

Senator John Hale (FS-NH) poured over the stack of forms that California had given to every prospective candidate for the 1852 Presidential Election. The sheer volume of paperwork had threatened to overwhelm them, but it had been necessary in order to access the ballot for California’s Primary Election.

Which had been another surprise. Gone was the usual method of state party conventions behind closed doors to choose a candidate to endorse or the dealings that would happen at conventions to choose a candidate.

In its place was a simple solution. A primary election held at the beginning of the year where the voters directly could choose from various candidates within each party, with the state’s delegates being pledged to their particular candidate. From the background materials he had been given, this had been a creation of the “progressive era” at the beginning of the 20th century, which had overseen a number of reforms, such as the direct election of senators, progressive income taxation, ballot initiatives & referendums, and the creation of a civil service system.

“What the hell is an FEC Candidate Identification Number?” He asked to his fellow abolitionist, Senator Salmon P. Chase (FS-OH).

“Beats me.” He replied while looking at the instructions on the form. “I think they assign you one if you haven’t run before.”

The mandatory disclosure forms that were required were a shock to them as well. It had seemed like California was insistent on knowing where every dollar on a political campaign came from. The Californians he had talked to were of the opinion that they were a pain but they kept politicians at least somewhat honest.

“What’s this T-10 form supposed to be about?” Asked Chase. “Top ten campaign contributors?”

Hale read over the form for a bit.

“It says that its for donations higher than $1 million.”

“One million? That’s-oh wait, that’s in California money. What’s the price in our money?”

Hale read the annotation on the form near the million dollar figure.

“According to the form, it’s around $30 thousand.”

“That makes a lot more sense.” Chase replied. “It at least shows the kinds of people who stand behind a candidate.”

“I know at least a few politicians who would get into some hot water if they had to fill out these forms.” Hale snarked.

“Pray tell me why it is so.” Chase asked, a small grin showing.

“Because all the donors go Tammany Tammany Tammany Slavers Tammany Tammany Tammany”

Chase chuckled at that remark. “You’re not wrong, but you forgot to add the Forty Thieves to that list.”

“Heh, true.” Hale replied, as they continued going through the necessary forms.

Battleship Iowa Museum - San Pedro

The USS Iowa was without a doubt, the finest piece of engineering that Marcel had ever seen. He was, of course familiar with the specs of it from World of Warships, but seeing it up close was a different thing altogether.

“Welcome aboard the USS Iowa” said one of the volunteers. “Follow the line on the deck for the self-guided tour, otherwise there’s a guided tour that starts at 1:45.”

As Marcel followed the line on the deck, it quickly led him to a set of benches with a TV in front of them, showing a short film on repeat about the Iowa’s history.

Oh he knew most of it, but it was still interesting to see the long and storied history of the ship.

“Hey everyone! Welcome aboard the Battleship Iowa Museum, I’ll be your tour guide today.” Said a young guy holding a microphone. “Can everybody hear me okay?” He asked to a murmur of agreement.

“The Iowa here was the lead ship of her class of battleship, and she was launched in 1942, at the start of World War 2.” He explained.

After hearing the guide explain the most basic history of the ship that any World of Warships player would have been familiar with, Marcel piped up.

“How hard would it be to get this ship into combat again?” He asked.

Immediately, everyone around him started groaning.

“You know.” Explained the guide through a forced smile. “We’ve been getting that question a lot since The Event. The truth is that getting the Iowa into fighting condition would cost more than it would take to build two new battleships from scratch, and that would take up even more resources than it would to build a lot more Arleigh Burkes.”

“Oh come on.” Marcel complained. “An Iowa would absolutely dwarf any other ship in the seas right now. California Über Alles man.”

“Look.” Said the guide. “Metal fatigue is a thing. Galvanic corrosion is a thing. Unlike a wooden ship where you can just replace pieces of wood as they rot until there’s nothing of the original left, the steel superstructure and armor plating are one and done things.”

“Okay, but I mean…” interrupted Marcel.

“There’s also the problem of spare parts.” Explained the guide. “There’s no other Iowas anywhere in the world to cannibalize spare parts from! So you could take it out to sea for about four months before something broke and you’d be dead in the water!”

“I know you mean well.” Said the guide. “But the truth of the matter is that the sheer logistics of the issue mean that the Iowa is best served staying right here in San Pedro as a museum.”

CalEFDA Distribution Center - Sunset & Western, Hollywood.

The corner of Sunset and Western in Hollywood had been the site of one of the most iconic examples of Los Angeles’ uneven development boom. The construction of a Target on that corner had been started in 2012, only for construction to stop a year later when the La Mirada Neighborhood Association sued to stop construction on the 74 foot tall building, saying that it violated the high limits of the city’s neighborhood plan.

The resulting lawsuit had halted construction in 2014, leaving the half-finished store as a perpetual eyesore in Hollywood, one that would eventually spawn twitter and facebook pages about the “Target Husk.”

The lawsuit had worked its way through the legal system where they ultimately ruled against the builders, finding that the city of Los Angeles had improperly allowed Target to violate height limits.

In response, the LA City Council changed the zoning code for that area to allow for taller structures, enabling construction to proceed.

And the La Mirada Neighborhood Association sued again, against the city this time, saying that they did not fully take into consideration the effects on traffic, noise, pollution, and greenhouse gas emissions from allowing retail stores taller than 35 feet.

This new lawsuit wound its way through the court system, keeping the building in its perpetual state of incompleteness.

It was only until October of 2018 that the California Supreme Court came out in favor of the city, and allowed construction to resume.

It was then that The Event happened.

While there were no more legal challenges towards resuming construction on the East Hollywood Target, there was the new and bigger problem that the Minneapolis-based company had effectively ceased to exist with The Event.

Enter the California Emergency Food Distribution Agency and the California Construction & Conservation Corps, two agencies that had been hastily created in the panic after The Event in order to keep food on everybody’s tables and to provide jobs building infrastructure for the anticipated large numbers of unemployed once the reality of The Event sunk in.

CalEFDA had quickly taken ownership of the building from Los Angeles County, and the CCCC had gotten to work finishing the construction and fitting out the interior, and by the end of 1851, the first of its kind public food bank had been built.

Operating on a “vegetable box” model that had been used in countless Community Supported Agriculture programs across the state, Hollywood residents received a weekly box of rice, fruits, vegetables, and a choice of meat, with the exact mix varying week by week based on availability. Alongside of this was something akin to a convenience store for less common items like coffee, alcohol, wheat bread, or chocolate, as well as a cafeteria serving hot food that residents could visit for free once a day.

The building had been drafted as a pilot program, a way to ride out the distribution and unemployment crises caused by The Event, ensuring that anybody could get something to eat even if their employment had dried up because of it.

Looking at the crowded cafeteria during the lunch rush, Jane Quinn grabbed a seat at one of the large communal tables where some others had already sat down.

“Oh my God you have no idea how good it feels to be eating real food again.” Said somebody down the table.

“Tell me about it.” Said somebody else. “I did a stint at Camp Springs, ate downtime food my first day, sick for a week.”

“Was it the bread? Because that shit was mostly sawdust when I was at Springs.” They replied.

“No.” He explained. “It was the milk.”

“Jesus.” They exclaimed. “You drank downtime milk? You are a braver person than I was.”

The man shuddered as he recalled the experience of drinking whatever it was that the downtimers called ‘Milk.’ “They call it that, but that wasn’t any kind of milk I’ve ever seen. It was slightly bluish white and left a yellow tinge on anything it touched.”

“That bad?” Jane asked.

“If the LA Beast was still around, even he wouldn’t have touched it.” He replied.

“Whatever happened to that guy anyway?” Asked somebody else.

“Apparently he moved back to Baltimore a few years before The Event. So he missed it.” Came the reply from the table.

As the conversation continued around Jane, she realized that the disparate group of tourists who had been stranded in Hollywood after the Event, and the locals who had lived in East Hollywood for years because it had been cheap had turned what had used to be a half-built Target into an a center of the community.

Blythe California

Scott sipped his latte waiting for the last of his group to get ready, since making an expedition into Arizona... well what ONCE was Arizona was not easy. Two flat bed trucks loaded down with gear, 4 SUVs one of which had a National Guard squad in it, another with a linguistics team from a university, another SUV with engineers and 3 sports vans. All the vehicles were sporting magnetic decals, it wasn't like California's new post office was better funded than the old. The flatbeds sported decals of whatever company lent them out, the SUVs were all different colors, the fuel truck was from the military and the work vans were converted from some almond farm in the Central Valley. He quirked a smile at his current location. A year ago he would have been standing right in the middle of Westbound I-10 and what was Blythe's Agricultural Station; the CHP blocked off the road with jersey barriers going eastbound after the last California exit, but the Westbound remained open. Blythe Agricultural station was one of the few ingress points across the Colorado River, which was much higher than he ever saw it. He sipped the last of his latte, chucking it into the wastebin, thank god the last little bit of civilization didn't vanish. Nina was waving him over from the only SUV that actually had a painted on CAPS logo of an owl flying through the air with "Survey Office" printed in black letters under it. "So boss, finally going to Phoenix? I hear the Yuma teams got directed to Tucson."

Scott nodded, "Yeah, we get to try and cross the Gila River, the 40 crew made Flagstaff last week... Well where it SHOULD be." Although he didn't say it, they would probably be folded into Blythe since Sacramento was worried about the Navajo nation, and there was limited interest in a new I-40. He'd been as far out as Phoenix before on a ranger trip but had only seen Navajo through binoculars a handful of times. The Great Basin wasn't hospitable even in the 19th century.

Nina laughed as she got in on the driver side signalling the caravan to ready for departure. What once was a 2 hour drive would take the better part of 8 hours, they'd likely have to camp out at Maricopa Outpost. Maricopa actually was one of the older outposts in Arizona, but only because some survivalist nuts tried to get out there before CHP restricted traffic. They had tried to set up the "State of New Arizona" and call together people to support them... They did not, after a month all they had to show for it was some RVs out of gas. It wasn't the noblest origin, but they had gotten a couple quonsets out there and a radio antenna last month. The RVs had remained and were even used as temporary housing now.

He switched his smartphone to airplane mode as the SUV left the Asphalt road and went to dirt road. It was a well worn dirt road at this point, the Army Corps of engineers wanted to get an Arizona frontage road up to Parker. They had set that up in the first month. Half a mile from town they came across a sign someone had set up. "I-10 Dead Ahead, TURN BACK INCOMPLETE PASS. Left to New Mojave Road 65 miles to Parker Crossing. Right. Just Don't" That one wasn't far from the mark. South from Blythe in Arizona was pretty rough terrain to pass by car. Straight was out until Caltrans finished the I-80 to Reno, and could spare the equipment to make the pass again.

"Adjusting, Turn right to I-10 Eastbound" voiced the NAV system. Nina swore and shut it off as she led to convoy to the dirt road. "Sorry Boss, forgot to turn off the NAV ." he chuckled. "Navigation software is going to be borked for a LONG time."

"Got that right. At least we can go 55 on this stretch, we'll make the turn off about a third of the way to Parker and go through the pass to Quartz Outpost."

Nina nodded, "Following the Journeyman's beacons through the pass, we should make it by noon." This was why Nina was the driver and not him. Scott knew the history of the region, but Nina knew the terrain. She had been a journeyman one of those scouts who saw how far she could go, although he knew it was grief that prompted her journey. Her family was from Phoenix, and when California went back... well Arizona didn't. Counselling centers were overwhelmed for several months. Everyone worked through their grief their own way. "Did you set up this path?"

Nina nodded, "Yeah... me and a few others with posts, two by fours, car batteries and LED lanterns set up this beacon path. Compared to some teams we were down right professional. The Maricopa gang were nuts, they lost half their convoy in the pass. Probably spooked some natives seeing those wrecks."

Scott nodded, "Just how far east did you get Nina?"

She was quiet for a moment as she made the turn off the Army's dirt road, to a set of worn tire tracks going through the wilderness. A post with an LED lantern on it shown ahead. "Got as far east as San Antonio," she said simply, and grabbed the radio. "Quartz Outpost, this is CAPS Survey Group 3, we are heading through Margaret's Pass. ETA Noonish."

"Roger, Survey 3. You bringing our mail?" That was not a job Scott would do for six figures, being one of the two guys stationed at an outpost waiting once a week for mail. No internet, spotty radio signals if you were lucky, and mind numbing boredom. It was isolation beyond compare for 21st century humans. Besides the drone flights they did to keep an eye on things, they would go nuts. Last time Scott was at Quartz, the two attendants had started doing drone races about the area and hooked up LEDs to pulse different colors... Come to think of it probably kept downtimers away.

Getting to Quartz was difficult but once they got there, it was a pretty straight shot to Maricopa Outpost, or at least so Scott thought. The rest of the team took a 30 minute break while the tech staff went over the vehicles to make sure they were good to go to Maricopa. Quartz outpost was named because it was about where Quartzite was... used to... will be... ah screw it. It wasn't there now, and they tried to name outposts after SOMETHING from the uptime maps. Quartz outpost itself was pretty nice considering they were about 30 miles away from California now but because of the hills they were effectively a 60 mile drive back to Blythe and civilization. Two quonset huts, some wood pallets as some makeshift structure, a large steel pylon going up some 40 feet where the 50 star American Flag and California Flag flew. At least they had power here, he filled up the water tanks and walked over to Nina. "How'd the shocks hold up?" He really didn't want to have to leave vehicles behind besides the electric ATV.

Nina shook her head, "No, even the flatbeds made it through ok.” before tapping a handtruck with the back of her hand, “Well Courier? Deliver the mail.”

Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed the handtruck loaded with mail for the outpost, “I swear if you make One Platinum Chip joke you are walking back to Blythe.” He readjusted his cap of the California Postal Service and began pushing the cart with a keg and two filled plastic bins from the United States Postal Service. Even though it had been two years CAPS wasn’t going to relabel everything. Hell they barely repainted the trucks. In the distance he heard the flying to drones and RC craft, and saw two guys standing upon on a makeshift platform overlooking the Solar panels laid out behind the Quonset hut.

“I take it you two guys are the unlucky sods manning this outpost. Shouldn’t you one of you guys be on your noc shift?” he said straightening the handtruck up.

One of the men laughed, “You think any of us out here follow that manual? We used it for Toilet paper about a month ago.”

The other flew his drone copter in loops around the tower. “Don’t recommend it, really coarse. My tent come in?”

Scott’s foot tapped one of the cardboard boxes from an address near Modesto, “10 person Coleman tent. Quonset living too much for you guys?”

“You could say that. That thing is packed to the gills with telecom equipment,the armory cabinet, and medical refrigerator.”

“Also where we keep our venison.”

Scott got out his clipboard, technically they weren’t supposed to hunt but at the same time he would be hard pressed to say he wouldn’t too. “Aren’t there supposed to be 4 people to an outpost?”

The taller one shrugged taking his clipboard to sign, “Yeah, I haven’t heard of a 4 person outpost team outside of cell phone range of Cali.” Technically there was supposed to be 4 to cover all the shifts, but most of them didn’t have that many, and the manager was back in Blythe.

Taking the clipboard back, “What’s with the drones by the way? Recreation?”

The shorter one laughed, “Yeah, but also at night I have them fly in a circle around us if the wind is calm.”

“Why?”

“Scares away the natives, they think it’s a UFO when we flip on the rainbow LEDs.” Scott wasn’t sure if that was brilliant or moronic. Guess it depended on if it worked or not. Sighing… this is what would constitute the pinnacle of modern civilization going east.

USS Roosevelt - Guangzhou

A tour group consisting of a couple of bureaucrats, a few military personnel, a few businessmen, and officials form Hong Kong and Macau are currently finishing up a tour of the hangar space.

“...and to your left, you can see the lift used to carry planes above deck. If you have anymore questions, feel free to ask me or the booth operators.”

And with that, the group was left to their own devices.

Xi Liwei, a minor bureaucrat in Hong Kong, was one of the people who went onto the Roosevelt in the tour group. He, like the others in the group, were on the Roosevelt to learn about and learn from the Californians. As he walked around the hangar, he noticed the airline fuselage, restaurants serving all kinds of food from California, and mockups of all sorts of buildings.

But the one thing that stuck out to him the most was a book on Hong Kong. Specifically, a picture book of Hong Kong before the Event. The neon lights, the architecture, the tech, all of it fascinated him to no end.

At the Churro booth across from Xi, the guide helped herself to a free churro, making small talk with her new friend.

“I guess he’s taking a liking to the book” the architect remarked.

“Yep, he sure is.” the guide replied. “Remember back in Nagasaki when those Samurai played Battletoads? That was insane.”

“But it was funny as hell.”

Next to Xi was John Lewis, one of the Brits who had made himself at home in Hong Kong after the Opium War, as the group passed by a model of the ship they were on, along with a placard explaining how it worked me he couldn’t help but notice something.

“When you get right down to it, this is just a different type of steamer.” John remarked.

“Pardon?” Asked the guide.

“Yeah.” He said, pointing at a cutaway diagram on the ship. “This ‘reactor’ is just a different kind of firebox that makes heat. You’ve got a boiler here, and then this turbine must just be a different way of generating force instead of a piston and cylinder.”

For the Californians leading the tour, it was a reminder that downtimers were ignorant, not stupid, and that the frequent assumption among Californians that their technology was absolutely alien to the downtimers wasn’t exactly true. The operating principles were often the same, but the details were different, Uranium instead of coal and such.

But for John, the idea that for all the future technology on display here, it was still just a steamer was form of relief, a reminder that The Californians were still human and not the gods coming down from Olympus or the decadent hedonists the British press liked to portray them as, depending on the day.

DowntimeOrientation.com

Downtime Orientation is a website to help downtimers “catch up” on the 178 years of cultural differences in order to acclimate to life in California. Here you will be connected with like minded individuals to help you acclimate to 21st century culture. Please take the attached personality exam to sort properly. The following is a list of user-contributed articles by uptimers written in order to help any downtimer acclimate to life in California.

Culture (23 Items)

Slavery: The Sin of our fathers Californian all wish to end.

What we wear, a guide to California fashion.

LGBTQ+: Not just a jumble of letters

The Waves of Feminism

Read More.

Popular Culture (1627 Items)

Science Fiction: From Jules Verne to Seth MacFarlane

A Cinematic history in 25 films

Video Games

The Evolution of Memes

The Abridged Series: The Abridged Series

Comics

Read More.

Politics (41 Items)

The United States Constitution: The 13th through 27th Amendment

Political Parties of California

The Imperial Presidency

Social Networks and You

Proposition What? A Downtimers Guide to the Initiative, Referendum and Recall system in California Politics.

Read More.

Science and Technology (127 Items)

Electricity and it’s shocking applications.

The Internet: An integrated communications network containing the sum of human knowledge… that we watch cat videos on.

History of Medicine: The Abridged Version.

Read more.

Law and Order (38 Items)

Your Legal Rights

Emancipation Proclamation

California Government and Downtime United States: A complicated relationship

Read More.

Maps (21 Items)

Geopolitics of 2018

Trails to the East.

Homesteading the Eastern Frontier.

Read More.

Ivanhoe Reservoir - Silverlake

“Okay, being told that there’s a lake filled with balls is one thing. Seeing it in person is another thing entirely.”

The people on the boat are looking out at the sea of balls floating in the reservoir. The balls are so cramped, the boat doesn’t even rock in the waves.

The downtimer on the boat turns to the driver. “Why are they even here in the first place?”

“Well,” The driver starts. “Chlorine is used to get rid of algae growth on reservoirs, and Bromide is a naturally occurring chemical in the water. Problem is that when they react, they create bromate, which is harmful for consumption. To prevent Bromate from forming when Chlorine is used, the county decided to cover the whole reservoir in shade balls to prevent the reaction from happening.”

“What about the evaporation thing? I heard that the shade balls slow the process.”

“Well, originally, that wasn’t the intent of the balls, but they block the sun well enough to slow it down. That’s actually part of the reason why they’re still being. Because of all the other benefits, we’re gonna be implementing these on a lot of the other reservoirs around Los Angeles.” The driver took a pause. “Well that and putting a gigantic tarp is unfeasible and just useless.”

“That make sense. Although I presume that it’s hard to drive a boat in a sea of balls.”

“Well, yes and no. It is hard to drive the boat through the balls, but when you’re standing still, the boat won’t move.”

“Guess that’s convenient.”

The boat made its way to the slipway where the boat trailer was parked. While this was happening, the downtimer observed a large truck dumping a shipment of shade balls. At that moment, the downtimer had an urge to make a pun.

“At least they didn’t drop the ball on this one” the downtimer said, to the collective groan of everyone else.

7/11 - Calexico

Miguel Ferraro was working a graveyard shift at the local 7/11. Late night shifts were already slow before the Event, but now it was almost barren, bar a few shoppers and the occasional stoner. That essentially left him and Jamie as the only ones in the store.

“Hey” said Miguel

“Yeah?” replied Jamie.

“You ever wonder why we’re here?”

“...Is that a Red vs Blue reference?”

“...I think? But anyways, people are going east to build shit, drivers are being paid to speed on the highways, and that bullet train thing is finally being made for real. So why are we here, in a 7/11 next to the border?”

“We’re here because we get paid do nothing for 8 hours.”

“True. Nothing beats getting paid to do nothing. But it does get mind numbingly boring at times.

I don’t mind getting paid to do jack shit, but even that gets tiring after a while.”

At that moment, Juan O’Hara came into the store.

A downtimer from across the border, Juan was getting accustomed to his new life in California. Living with 5 other people in a 3 person apartment, he drew the short stick and went to get groceries, which led him here.

One problem though, he has no idea where to find some of the items on the grocery list.

“Dude” Jamie said to Miguel. “Guy just came in looking disoriented. Seems to be a downtimer as well.”



“Looks like he came from across the border.” Miguel replied. “So definitely through whatever’s left of Mexicali. Or whatever’s gonna be Mexicali? Still screwy a year and a half later.”

“Anyways, go see what you can do to help.”

“Why me?”

“I can’t speak Spanish.”

“Fine. Could you cover the register for me?”

“Sure.”

Miguel made his way to where Juan was.

“Hola.” Miguel said “¿Estás buscando algo?” (Are you looking for something?)

“Sí.” Juan replied. “Estoy tratando de encontrar mis comestibles.” (Yes, I'm trying to find my groceries.)

“Ah! ¿Qué estás buscando?” (What are you looking for?)

“Aquí está la lista de la compra” (Here is the shopping list)

Miguel took a look at the shopping list.

“La leche está en la parte posterior, el pan está en el pasillo 3, la Fanta está en el pasillo 2, el alcohol está en el pasillo 6 y el cereal está en el pasillo 4.” (The milk is in the back, the bread is in aisle 3, the Fanta in aisle 2, alcohol in aisle 6, and the cereal in aisle 4.)

“Gracias” (Thank you)

“De Nada. Cuando estés listo, facturare tus compras en el mostrador.” (You’re welcome. When you’re ready, I’ll bill your groceries at the counter.)

After Juan gets all of the groceries on the list, he goes to the counter. Miguel scans all of Juan’s groceries, and makes a bit of small talk.

“¿Es esta su primera vez aquí?” (Is this your first time here?)

“Si, llegué aquí hace unos dos meses. Actualmente estoy compartiendo un apartamento con otras tres personas.(Yep, I arrived about two years ago. I’m currently sharing an apartment with three other people.)

“¿Te gusta aquí?”(Do you like it here?)

“Ciertamente es mejor que volver a casa, eso es seguro.”(It’s better than back home, that’s for sure.)

“Es verdad. ”(That’s true.)

“¿Puedo ver tu carta de Calfresh?”(May I see your calfresh card?)

“¿Es esto?”(Is this it?)

Juan pulls out an ebt card and gives it to Miguel

“Si”

“Entonces, ¿cuánto pago?”(So, how much do I pay?)

“Entonces, eso es un galón de leche, 3 panes de pan, 2 bolsas de arroz, una bolsa de trigo, una caja de palomitas de maíz, un paquete de 6 cervezas, 2 fantas, una caja de bocadillos de coco y agua. Las bebidas suman hasta 35 dólares. Tiene 6 libras de verduras, 3 libras de carne y una libra de fruta en su tarjeta EBT.”(So that's a gallon of milk, 3 loaves of bread, 2 bags of rice, a bag of wheat, a box of popcorn, a 6 pack of beer, 2 fantas, a box of coco puffs, and a water. The drinks add up to 35 dollars. You have 6 lbs of vegetables, 3 lbs of meat, and a pound of fruit left on your EBT card.)

“Gracias Miguel.”(Tanks Miguel)

“De nada. Que tengas una buen noche, o mañana. El tiempo es muy chiflado en este momento.”(You’re welcome. Have a good night, or morning. Time is really screwy right now.)

“Buenas noches a ti también”(Goodnight to you as well.)

With groceries in his bag, and fanta in hand, Juan walks out of the 7/11 towards his shared apartment. Jamie, after taking inventory in the back, comes back out as Juan is leaving.

“Hey Jam?” Miguel said?

“Yeah?” Jamie replied.

“Remember when Coke was everywhere?”

“Yep. I remember when it was ‘you have any Coke?’ ‘No, but is Pepsi Okay?’. Now, it’s just a fanta sea.”

“Why did you have to shoehorn that in?”

“I at least tried to-”

“No, no you didn’t”

“Anyways, how was the downtime customer?.”

“He was a bit lost on where to get groceries, but he was a nice guy.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“It sure is. But anyways, about the Fanta thing...”

10 Freeway - Baldwin Park

“All units, suspect has fled the scene in a green 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Suspect is armed and extremely dangerous.”

The police radio flared to life as the Chevy Caprice Interceptor, containing Officer Luis and his downtime ride along James, thundered down the highway.

“You’re about to witness the Californian Blood Sport: The car chase.” said Luis.

“You’re telling me that this is NORMAL?” James replied.

“Welcome to California bub.”

It didn’t take long for the Caprice to catch up to the Cutlass.

“I’m going to have to do a PIT maneuver.” Luis said

“Does that involve pits?” James asked.

“Usually no.”

The cruiser does a PIT maneuver on the Cutlass, making it swerve off the shoulder and into a small pit.

“Okay, maybe this time it involved a pit.”

“Guess I’m not wrong” James said, trying not to crack up

Luis and James get out of the car and run towards the Cutlass.

The suspect in the Cutlass bolted out of the car, trying to escape and hopefully steal the Caprice, but ends up getting taxed in the dick by Luis, before he handcuffs him and reads him his Miranda rights. After the suspect is taken in another car, James makes his way to Luis.

“I guess some things never change.” James said.

“That idiots will be idiots?” Luis asked.

“That and having to chase down suspects.”

“Huh, never thought of that.”

“Although in my personal opinion, your crooks are more exciting than my crooks back in Boston. No wonder why car chases are a blood sport here.”

[SIZE]The Californian Political Podcast: Episode 138: The inevitable legal conflict between Uptime and Downtime April 16, 1852, Youtube[/SIZE]


CalifornianTory, ValentineLocke, ModeratorGray

CalifornianTory: … and the spending on Newsom’s Vision 1875 will explode, and probably when the whole legal apocalyse goes off, Weimar Germany anyone?

ValentineLocke: Oh please, what else could the government do? You hate GrizzlyComm consolidating the telecoms and nationalizing them but what was the alternative? Vision 1875 does have a tall order but this isn’t about GOP or DNC, this is about having a 21st century global economy continue to function without the global supply chain. Although I concede, have issues with the Legal apocalypse, something the Attorney General’s been mum about.

ModeratorGray: Well let’s talk about that. Perhaps briefly for our listeners you can explain the upcoming legal apocalypse as you both called it. I think getting any Republican and Democrat to agree is noteworthy. Valentine you want to go first?

ValentineLocke: Gladly. The upcoming legal apocalypse has to do with how the State of California acquires land outside of the State of California. Vision 1875 promises rails and highways out to Salt Lake City, Eugene, and Santa Fe.

CalifornianTory: ...along with Hoover Dam, Building airports anywhere they can and sending the Roosevelt halfway around the world. For once though we aren’t debating recognition of downtime native americans though.

ValentineLocke: Right this has solely to do with interacting with the Downtime United States.

CalifornianTory: Ah! Start right there. We are not separate from the government in Washington DC.

ValentineLocke: Is it Pelosi’s or Fillmore’s picture in Federal Offices these days?

CT: Pelosi’s obviously, but it shouldn’t. We are part of the United States of America, in all honesty Pelosi should have resigned when reconnected with Washington legally at least.

VL: Practically, that was never going to happen. Protect and Defend the Constitution, Fillmore didn’t swear to defend about 15 other amendments.

CT: But with Pelosi still maintaining herself as President of the Federal Remnant it’s a problem. In effect the Uptime United States is a pretender federal government, one that dwarfs anything in DC, and that’s a whole other headache.

VL: Really you are going to bring up legitimacy? So long HHS, Energy, Education, Defense, VA, and…

MG: Val…

CT: But the remnant isn’t.

MG: Tory, Val please. What is the particular legal apocalypse regarding land use

VL: Executive Order 14558. The Bureau of Land Management transfers a lot of unused federal land to the State of California.

CT: That’s problematic but not the apocalypse. The apocalypse is that Federal Land outside California is under homesteader rules. The Uptime Federal Government can’t buy it because well… the Downtime Federal Government owns it.

VL: Enter Sacramento, and the compact with Salt Lake. The land along the I-80 and about 5 miles to either side of it is sold to California for railway development. A bunch of other sections covering most of what’s now Bishop county, also was purchased. I imagine the Downtime Mormons will be pissed about Virginia city, but California buys land and then resells it in State if it wants.

CT: That’s the sticky issue, it has no precedent Downtime, a State acquiring land for infrastructure development outside its own state, In effect California’s easternmost extent is now the trading outpost in Salt Lake, and by 1856 the terminus of the California Zephyr. This normally wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for California requiring the Uptime Constitution being enforced in the new territories.

VL: In effect, California is not following the downtime constitution. Slaves aren’t allowed because of the 13th amendment so if a slave boards a Californian plane, they are free, Dixiecrat objection or not, if you listen to the 9th circuit. The land use will get us in trouble in DC, not the NAACP funding a 757 to fly to Camp Springs empty and come back filled with fleeing slaves.

CT: and the Taney Court will rule the Federal remnant illegitimate, along with 9th circuit and California has to cede back Utah Territory land to DC.

VL: ...which Pelosi, Newsom, Harris or Jones won’t.

CT: … and then we get the secessionist crisis in the 1850s. It’s just we never formally seceded but we effectively are.

VL: and then we will have effectively annexed part of the Utah territory at least the I-80, Clark county, and Bishop county.

MG: Bishop County?

CT: Oh right… yeah… California already forged a county government in Utah territory. It’s basically a monster county, sorta matching the combined borders of Storey, Douglas, Carson, and Lyon counties of pre-event Nevada, and that’s apocalypse Part 2.

VL: Where do the residents of New Reno, New Fallon, and Sierra Madre get political representation?

CT: ...and what happens when enough people move into Bishop county that they could petition for Statehood.

VL: Can you imagine the crisis in DC if there are now two Uptimer states? California and New Nevada?

CT: If the land use doesn’t get the Congress involved, Congress will definitely get involved there. California expanding…

VL: or if Bishop petitions the Federal remnant for Statehood?

CT: please don’t remind me… the headaches… ultimately slave catchers getting shot in Maryland won’t cause the inevitable conflict with DC… it will be land use.

VL: Technically it’s legal…

CT: It’s only legal because of loose homesteader laws saying the land is anyone’s whoever develops it. DC will have to adjust for 150 years of Federal Land use in two years or so, and that will bring the legitimacy crisis. Pelosi’s Federal remnant after two years is a dead letter. Once more of the uptime federal departments complete their transfer to State offices, rationalization, and debt cancellation there’s no point having Pelosi be President. The Moscone government collapses

VL: We can’t get representation in Congress, at least in DC, and the Dixiecrats never will let that happen. Hell if it wasn’t for the plainclothes security detail that Huffman had, he might have been beaten by those Dixiecrats on the House Floor. The legal apocalypse is coming

CT: and it will be coming sooner rather than later. More and more DC will fear what’s on the other side of those Rockies…

VL: ...and then they’ll do something stupid.

CT: … we flick them like mosquitoes.

VL: ...and the New California Republic is born

CT: Really… Fallout? We’ll be the Republic of California probably. Hell that’s what’s printed on the rainbow money.

VL: Regardless, things are tense, Newsom’s going to make a visit to DC with Pelosi this summer. Watch for the fireworks.

———

Special thanks to my Co-writers Firebringer2077 and @Rise Comics for their contributions.
 
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1852 United States Presidential Election

This article is about the 1852 Presidential Election of Current History, for the Election of 1852 of Lost History, see 1852 United States Presidential Election (Lost History)

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Incumbent Whig President Millard Fillmore had ascended to the presidency after the death of President Zachary Taylor in 1850. Due to Fillmore's support of the Compromise of 1850 and his enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act, he was popular in the South but strongly opposed by many Northern Whigs. On the 15th ballot of the 1852 Whig National Convention, Webster defeated Fillmore to clinch the party’s nomination. The Democrats were divided among three major candidates who traded leads throughout the first 57 ballots of the 1852 Democratic National Convention, on the 58th ballot, Senator Lewis cass won his party’s nomination. The Popular Union Coalition, a fusion ticket of the Free Soil Party and the California Labor Party, nomated New Hampshire senator John P. Hale.

With few policy differences between the two major party candidates, the election came down to a difference of personalities between Cass and Webster. Meanwhile, Hale’s campaign was buoyed by lingering resentment for the Compromise of 1850 and by Hale’s calls for a constitutional ban on slavery, something that had defied the conventional political wisdom of the time.

Cass and his running mate William R. King won the electoral vote by a comfortable margin and carried 23 out of 31 states. In spite of this, Hale overwhelmingly won 78.8% of the popular vote. Cass won the highest share of the electoral vote since James Monroe's uncontested 1820 re-election. In the aftermath of this overwhelming defeat the Whig Party rapidly collapsed as a national political force as internal tensions regarding the issue of slavery caused mass abandonment of the party. Hale’s unsuccessful bid significantly influenced the modern Abolitionist movement and the political realignment that would follow.


1 Nominations
1.1 Democratic Party Nomination
1.2 Whig Party Nomination
1.3 The Popular Union Coalition Nomination
1.4 Native-American (Know Nothing) Party Nomination
1.5 Southern Rights Party Nomination
2 California Primary
3 General Election

3.1 Fall Campaign
3.2 Results
3.3 Geography of results

3.3.1 Cartographic Gallery
4 Results by State
5 Electoral college selection
6 See Also
7 Notes
8 References
9 External links


Wikibox courtesy of Asami
 
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OK, the utter absurdity of someone getting nearly 80% if the vote and coming third really highlights how much California is lacking in influence is just amazing.
 
Headlines From California - March 1853

California ISO Reports First Uninterrupted Week of Carbon Free Power

Meet the People Deliberately Allowing Their Homes To Be Foreclosed.

How Camp Springs Is Changing Maryland

California Today: Last One Out, Hit The Lights – As the Last of the Up-Time Federal Government Closes Its Doors, Californians Wonder, “What’s Next?”

New Hoover Dam Project Receives Official Name, Wikawhata Dam and Lake Amadata

The First Downtimer Airline? Railroad and Shipping Magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt Spotted Visiting San Bernardino International Airport.

Shuttered Dynergy Power Plant in Morro Bay to Reopen as Renewable Ammonia Production Facility

Aliso Canyon, Once the Site of the Biggest Natural Gas Leak In History, Now Stores Electricity By Compressing Air

Newsom Along With Delegates from Indigenous Nations to Hold Signing Ceremony for WATO Treaty at Alcatraz Island

Return to Alcatraz: Our Interview With Ambassador LaNada War Jack on Returning to Alcatraz and the Creation of WATO

Sen. Bradford Introduces the BDS Act, Requiring Businesses That Do Business in California to Boycott, Divest and Sanction Any All Businesses In The American South

Lewis Cass: The First 100 Days

Level 3 Travel Advisory Issued for Downtime United States

Excerpt from Graduate Thesis “Cass and California: A Crisis of Emasculation” by Muna Lomakema – University of Kiqötsmovi – December 15th, 1892

From the very beginning of the Cass Administration, his actions were colored by the perception that his administration lacked legitimacy. The conventional wisdom at the time would have suggested that he attempt to accommodate the rising abolitionist movement by moderating his positions. However, as any reading of his actions as president would show, it was this perceived lack of legitimacy that drove him to establish himself as president.

Even as a Senator, Cass was a strong supporter of American Expansionism, saying that the United States “requires more land, more territory upon which to settle, and just as fast as our interests and our destiny require additional territory in the North, or in the South, or on the Islands of the Ocean, I am for it.” It is telling that one of Cass’ first actions as president was to fire and replace John Bartlett, who had been surveying the southern border with Mexico.

While Bartlett’s proposed border had been rejected by Congress in both the Current History and in the Lost History period, the vindictiveness by which it happened in the Current History timeline, and Cass’ demand to Mexico that they sell all of Baja California, Chihuahua, and Sonora to the United States suggests an amount of wounded pride from the perceived loss of the west.

While the signing of the Alcatraz Accords and the creation of the Western America Treaty Organization or WATO is commonly regarded as the “Closing of the West” in American sources, the symbolic emasculation of the United States has its roots far earlier, going back to the USS Roosevelt’s world tour, which had thrust California onto the world stage, and the establishment of Camp Springs on the doorstep of the United States capital.

With the loss of the frontier for the United States, the once-common refrain of “go west young man, and grow up with the country” was no longer possible, and with it, millions of young Americans were faced with the realities of a colonial land ownership system that had left the vast majority of them impoverished and without a means of social mobility.

A review of the popular literature and of the most frequently performed plays in the United States from this period shows a trend towards the scapegoating and demonization of Californians. An 1853 review of the comedic play “From Whence the Wind Blows” in the New York Tribute would note that “The breakout character of the play was the Californian know-it all character, ‘Adam,’ who would frequently interrupt the cast in order to impart some erudite wisdom to the groans of everyone else like a modern day Cassandra.” However, by 1858, the depictions of Californians in the United States had grown far more rancorous, with Californians frequently being depicted as both comically inept and simultaneously as dangerous schemers, with no effort made to address these contradictions​

Moscone Center - San Francisco - 8:30 AM - March 4, 1853

The 50 star flag sat atop the flagpole in front of the Moscone Center, a symbol of the once-great country that flew it. A country that had ceased to exist with The Event, and now represented the remnants of a government that had been carefully dismantled over the past two and a half years.

“My fellow Americans–No, my fellow Californians”. Said President Pelosi, “I stand before you as President for the final time. When The Event happened, we all were thrust into an unfamiliar world, a world where we not one state out of 50, but forced to stand on our own. In less than an hour, Mr. Cass will be sworn in as President in Washington.”

Pelosi paused for a second and looked over at the assembled press and public in front of her watching, and over at the 55 representatives of the uptime Congress. “It is therefore that with the Advice and Consent of Congress that I sign the following order.”

“As of 9 AM Pacific Standard Time, March 4th, 1853, the Uptime United States of America is hereby dissolved, the Republic of California shall be considered the legal successor to the United States.”

As the crowd applauded, the assembled band played the Star Spangled Banner for the final time, as the flag of the United States was lowered from the flagpole.

In its place, rose the flag of the California Republic, Nancy Pelosi was the 46th and final president of the uptime United States.

United States Capitol Building - March 4th, 1853 - 12 PM

It was chilly March morning, as thousands watched the new President be sworn in on the Capitol steps, in a tradition borrowed from the uptimers in California, camera crews were broadcasting the ceremony live to those in California, allowing millions to see the President be sworn in for the first time.

“Do you, Lewis Cass, solemnly swear that you will faithfully execute the Office of President of The United States, and that you will to the best of your ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of The United States.” Said Roger Taney, Chief Justice.

“I do.” Replied the 14th President.

As some in the gathered crowd applauded the new president, in spite of the fact that he had lost the popular vote by an incredibly large margin, one group in particular had refuse to stand or to applaud out of protest. It had started out as California’s congressional and senate delegation but had soon grown to include a contingent of Abolitionists, Free-Soilers, and other anti-slavery crusaders.

The Devil’s Bargain that Cobb, Webster, Gwin and Calhoun had made two years ago to keep California from overwhelming the Congress had come home to roost, and in doing so had destroyed any shred of legitimacy that the current Congress had.

Nobody knew who shouted it first, but that didn’t matter, because it a few short moments, the chant of “Impeach Cass” had drowned out the man’s inaugural address.

“Ready?” Asked Rep. Jared Huffman to the other California Representative and two Senators. Seeing the other three nod, they all walked off the platform in unison to the awaiting motorcade.

Red Zone, Camp Springs, Maryland

Camp Springs was a very odd settlement. The town could easily be divided into two concentric rings, there was the citadel-like “Green Zone” where the uptimers and Californians lived, and surrounding it was the so-called “Red Zone” which is where the downtimers lived. Uptimers would frequently compare the arrangement to Baghdad or Cold War-era Berlin.

As life outside the walled city went on, the motorcade of armored SUVs and Humvees that carried California’s congressional delegation sped through the city towards the checkpoint to enter the Green Zone.

“Bigger crowds this time.” Said Dave Jones.

“Really?” Said Kamala Harris, putting down the briefing document she had been reading through on the way over.

“Take a look.” Said Jones.

Outside, around the motorcade were hundreds of Camp Springs residents, who can come out to watch the motorcade pass through. By now, word had spread about the California delegation’s protest by refusing to be seated in congress, leaving all four seats empty. Draped across many of the downtime buildings were banners reading “13th Amendment Now!,” a reflection of the politics of Camp Springs.

Kamala shook her head, “Never will get over how much things have changed, Any security issues for Green Zone?” she asked the driver?

“Just got the wave-thru from Checkpoint Bravo.” He replied.

“Good the faster we get up into the air-” she said as the vehicle came to a stop, “-spoke too soon.” she said looking out the windshield. “Who’s blocking the path?

Blocking the road ahead of them was a group of men mounted on horses. “On orders of Governor Lowe, you are to allow these fine gentlemen into your ‘Green Zone.’ in order to retrieve their missing property.” Said the lead man.

Stepping out of one of the cars, the armed escort replied. “Like hell you will.” He spat.

Seeing the situation escalate, Kamala opened the door, “Hold position please.” and looked in the direction of the men on horseback, “Let’s put aside for now your roadblock, what property are you looking for?” she said idly to see if the man would outright say it or follow a script from Lowe. She knew that bastard would have caused issues eventually, he had terrible timing.

“My God, do you really allow your help to speak out of turn like that?” He replied, directing his attention at the white security officer. “I suppose I can indulge you this time, the good Governor did not bring me into his confidence as to what missing property has been sighted in your walled city, but I have been assured that these fine gentlemen here will know what it is when they see it.”

“Ma’am?” said the guard, before Kamala furrowed her brow and looked straight at the Maryland State Police, “I believe it was a Virginian who wrote all men are created equal endowed with certain inalienable rights.” she paused looked at the man on his horse as he sneered at her, “Are we being detained by the Governor of Maryland, with a warrant?” She said knowing that right now Californians status within the United States was questionable but was betting on this state trooper not knowing the finer details of the law.

“I have a signed and written affidavit from these gentlemen that their lost property was sighted passing through Camp Springs.” He said.

She looked to her guard and shook her head, “But no warrant. Are we being detained officer,” it was not the first time she had been pulled over in her life, but this was definitely the oddest. “As unless you have a warrant, then we are free to go…” she said smiling, “Unless the writ of Habeas Corpus has been suspended in the state of Maryland…. But I feel that would have been announced somewhere.”

“Missy, I do believe you are ignorant of the particulars of the law.” He sneered. “We do not need a writ of habeas corpus for this particular property. Why I do believe that it is a thousand dollar fine and six months in prison for interfering in the retrieval of this property.”

“But that doesn’t give you the right to interfere with the movement of foreign dignitaries under the Vienna Convention Article 7, Section 2, subsection c. “Officers of the peace shall make no attempt to detain or delay members of foreign delegations.” Replied Harris. “Not to mention Article II, Section 2, Clause 2 of the United States Constitution, which gives the United States President the sole authority to interfere in the conduct between sovereign nations.”

The trooper looked at the slave catcher that roped him into this, “You ever heard of the Vienna Convention?” and trotted the horse next to him, “Look, we’ve been working together awhile, it’s been profitable for both of us, but you better give me something better to go on here. You know as well as I that the Governor’s order only goes so far.”

The guard walked over to Harris and whispered to her, “Do we really have Diplomatic Immunity?”

“Not by our modern standards no, welcome to legal limbo, Prep to get us to Camp Springs quickly if they don’t buy it.” She whispered back.

With the legal wrench thrown into the works, the Sheriff’s deputy for Prince George’s County and the slave catcher moved off the road to rethink their strategy.

Seeing the opportunity, Harris and the security forces quickly rushed back into their cars.

“So long gentleman.” Kamala nodded as she got back into the car, “Cheese it.” she said to the driver.

Back in the car, Dave Jones was watching in silent awe of Harris’ gambit. “Nice bluff.” He said. “I wonder how long it’ll take them to realize the the Vienna Convention won’t exist for another hundred years.”

With the local law enforcement no longer blocking the road, the motorcade sped through to the green zone checkpoint, with the gates quickly closing behind it.

Frontier City, Utah Territory - March 5, 1853

As the California Zephyr got up to speed outside New Fallon, Erica couldn’t help but marvel at where she now was. Before the Event she was an account executive for Level 3 who happened to be in San Francisco visiting family during the event.

Now? She was sitting at a table on an Amtrak Train heading down newly made tracks to the frontier… A frontier that right now ended where Winnemucca once stood, but considering Chief Winnemucca was currently a 20 something out near Pyramid Lake who was currently in the faction opposing California Rail it didn’t seem prudent to name the city after him. Which had led Erica to this.

“Passengers, we have now left New Fallon, our next stop is Frontier City, and we expect no delays as the sensors are green along the whole stretch. Out of the right side of the train you will see power lines that extend California’s Power Grid out this far.”

Erica looked out the window briefly as the transmission lines towered over the surrounding landscape. What many people didn’t know was that when the power lines were laid out this far, they also were laying new fiber-optic trunk lines out this way. They were buried about 6 feet underground but unless one knew where to dig you wouldn’t find them. They were parallel to the transmission lines but hardly close. The system had only one noticeable design flaw she thought as she passed one of the junction boxes surrounded by a 20 foot by 20 foot chain link fence with barbed wire, and a cheap cinder-block shack with a stencilled on logo for her employer and the 4Cs: California Construction and Conservation Corps, one of the programs to get people working and stop the economy from collapsing. Her employer though… well her employer was no longer Level 3, in fact Level 3 was one of the companies that was just gutted after the Event. Comcast, Spectrum, AT&T, Level 3, Frontier, Charter, Verizon all were decapitated, with middle of upper management being gone. The state had to step in and created GrizzlyComm… The name that left a lot to be desired, but it had been vital to keeping the internet together. The Event had forced California to make a choice between a bunch of regional internets, or a state run internet. People accepted it when their cable bills went down by 20 dollars a month and all the recruiting drives for linemen and repairmen. People also accepted all the infrastructure projects desperately trying to keep the economy going. To say California was a mess was an understatement but the economy had to keep going… hence rebuilding a railway on along the old I-80, and fiber projects, and the development the New I-80 asphalt highway out to New Reno and New Vegas. In 1851 the Frontier was New Reno, now it was Frontier City. She didn’t even want to think how much the California Construction and Conservation Corps was costing.

She closed her laptop and headed to the dining car passing a beautiful wood mosaic along the interior all, a small aluminum plate read “Wood from Redding, Mosaic Crafted by Rookwood Art Studio in Red Cliff, CA for California Rail. #47 of 280. Shaking her head the number of industries that were basically given the directive to “HIRE AND BUILD AND SELL”, lumber mills, infrastructure projects, and others were going full speed across California, it was incredible how many jobs Pre-event relied on the global supply chain after all. Erica told the attendant to make a fruit smoothie, god she missed espressos, and walked back to her seat, she sat back to watch the rail car’s TV when the static got worse and worse on the feed, the train intercom clicked on. “Sorry folks, TVs are now being turned off Live networks, after that last turn we won’t be getting any of the TV signals out from the New Reno antenna. We will now be showing “Marvel’s Captain Marvel”, top grossing movie of 1851.”

Shaking her head that was why she was out here. Frontier City of course had its own antenna and there weren’t supposed to be blackout zones often, but Frontier City had problems, although what exactly those issues were often was hard to parse. When it was completed, Frontier City’s antenna became the tallest structure on the planet, but it was just an antenna and not an actual building.

Looking out the window, Erica watched all the various construction crews building the series of bridges and tunnels that would carry future passenger rail service at far higher speeds along this route, with the tracks her train was using now reserved for freight use.

As the train started slowing down, she heard the train’s PA system chime. “Alright folks we’re about five minutes out from Frontier City. Go ahead and start packing up any belongings and throw away any trash. Our next station stop is Frontier City.”

As the train pulled into the station, she got her first glimpse of the eclectic Frontier City. The station in front of her was a wooden structure that, other than the solar panels on the roof, would have appeared antiquated in 2018. Not to mention the fact that there was a Coke machine and a bank of Quik-Trak ticket machines along the platform.

Stepping off the train and into the town itself, there was a general store straight out of an old western with signs in English, Numu, and Shoshone advertising portable solar chargers, so that uptimers like her could recharge their phones using sunlight.

Across the dusty street was an old saloon, complete with swinging doors that never touched the top of the doorframe or the floor, making it was easy to see that inside was what she had expected to see in a western saloon, other than the Super Street Fighter II Turbo arcade cabinet off to the side.

One thing that did seem out of place in the town, was the local National Credit Union of California branch office, which had eschewed the 19th century aesthetic in favor of a more modern that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an uptime suburban street. While the bank had the gold exchange counters that were typical of downtime banks, the thick glass between the tellers and the customers wasn’t. Nor were the ATMs embedded into the walls of the bank’s vestibule.

“Erica!” Came a shout from down the street, looking over, there was a Paiute woman in uptime clothes waving at her.

“Hey! Are you Carrie?” Replied Erica. “We spoke on the phone about an antenna here?”

“That’s me!” She replied. “Come on, I’ll take you to the worksite where the antenna’s going up.”

As the two continued to walk towards the car that Carrie had parked, Erica took the opportunity to look around the town a bit more.

Down the street was one of the portable buildings that had seemed to be ubiquitous in the areas of the downtime world built up by California. Though in this case it had the sign out front “Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints.”

Mormons then. The Native Americans in the town seemed to be giving them a wide berth, keeping their distance as much as possible.

“What’s with…” Erica asked while gesturing towards the crowds keeping their distance from the temple.

“Utah Territory is a theocracy.” Explained Carrie. “An actual, straight up theocracy like Saudi Arabia was uptime. That means we have to allow the LDS church to set up shop here, but we don’t have to like it.”

“So do they just go door to door here and both everyone?” Erica asked, immediately wincing when she saw the tired expression on Carrie’s face.

lot

Erica kept walking, taking in the sights of the town, up ahead of them was Carrie’s car, a Humvee that had seen better days.

“So where’d you say you were from?” Asked Carrie.

“SF.” She replied. “Well… I grew up in the Bay Area, but I ended up moving to Broomfield a few years ago for work.”

“Broomfield?” Asked Carrie.

“It’s where my old job was,” Erica explained. “It’s about halfway between Boulder and Denver. What about you?”

“Susanville.” Carrie explained. “It’s a small town on the east side of the Sierras. I was at UC Santa Cruz when It happened, since I knew how to speak Numu, I volunteered to be an interpreter for the eastward expeditions.”

“I’m surprised at how many people are here.” Said Erica. “I thought people would have been more wary of us.”

“Oh, a lot of them are,” She explained, “but there’s still a good number of people who are willing to come into town and do business with us or with each other. But for a lot of the people out there, something like this seems too good to be true and they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Erica nodded getting in the Humvee, ignoring the converted shipping container apartments that some downtimers were living in, she supposed it was easier to leave the shipping containers here then to ship them back west. “So… you have electricity, the towers were set up. But the Fiber Lines are delayed till 4th quarter, the radio antenna was supposed to go up two weeks ago. What gives?”

Carrie shook her head, “It’s not easy to make the tallest structure on earth.”

Erica rolled her eyes, “It’s an Antenna not Taipei 101. We need Radio out here if we are going to keep going. By the time the rail crews get out to Battle Mountain or whatever they call it now, they won’t have any radio, and we know satellite TV won’t be around for a while.”

As the vehicle wound its way up the mountain, Erica looked out at the sprawling advance of the city. From the west she could see the crews building the bridges and tunnels for the new I-80. To the east there were the rail crew setting up to start building the eastern segment that would run from Frontier City to Golconda.

“You said you were having equipment problems?” Erica asked.

“Our equipment’s engines are burning fuel faster than they should on account of the elevation, so they keep running out of fuel. I’ve been putting in req. orders for extra fuel, but all the people back home keep denying it because all their numbers for fuel efficiency are based on sea level.” Carrie explained.

Erica looked up at the LED illuminated tower on the mountain going on. “Do I want to know who set up the RGB color cycling?” Shaking her head, “This goes back to the substation not being completed? You wouldn’t need fuel if Frontier City could connect up to the California Powergrid.”

“So my question is, how long do you think it will take for this to be completed?” Asked Erica.

“I mean look, the fuel issue is what’s keeping us behind now.” Said Carrie. “We started behind because we didn’t have the time to do a proper geotechnical study of the site, and that meant that the ground was a lot harder than our equipment was designed for, but we rushed it to try and get back on schedule, and we got this down to being only 2 weeks behind schedule. If you want this antenna online, give us the fuel we need.”

Erica got out of the humvee at the base of the antenna, the wind whipping around, “Windy up here. If I’m going to sell this what’s the rest of the fuel shipment being spent on, Frontier City does get a tanker car shipment. Asphalt I-80 won’t get out here until 1854 probably.” She shook her head, “Hard to believe I remember it taking 8 years to finish an off ramp.” Looking up at the sky.

“Look, there’s also a bunch of LTE nanocells going up back in town, each one takes maybe a day to put up, but GrizzlyComm keeps asking for more to go up and that keeps diverting fuel and time from this project.” Said Carrie. “Let us put a moratorium on putting up new cell towers in town and we can siphon the fuel from the construction trucks in town to the trucks here and we can get it done in a week and then we’ll settle the accounts and put up the cell towers in town after the next fuel shipment.”

Erica got out her tablet to crunch some numbers, “How far does LTE coverage go around here right now? I got data out here, can’t imagine I can go that much further. She looked out across the town, she had never seen the night sky like this… “Hey Carrie, who has that mountain formation to the North? Might have found a way for us to get that fuel and have GrizzlyComm not pay for the extra car.”

“That’s all Northern Paiute.” Said Claire. “That mountain up there was called ‘Bloody Run Peak’ back in 2018. Most of the people I’ve met just call it ‘tuutse’yoo kiba’ or ‘small mountain.’ What did you have in mind?”

“Would they get all CAVEy if someone proposed building on it?” She asked starting to text a contact.”

“Yeah….?” Said Carrie. “Our beliefs have a lot of sacred sites around here. I’m not 100% sure if that mountain is one of them, but better safe than sorry.”

“Well so much for that idea. UC’s been looking for a place to build an observatory, which means survey crews, and the costs GrizzlyComm would be defrayed for since UC would be pushing for the increase, not us. They’ve been looking for a new site since Webb is stuck at JPL without a launcher, and the Hawaiians shot down the idea of using Mauna Kea for an observatory complex. Well can’t be helped.” She said typing out the moratorium on LTE. “You’ll get your fuel to get the antenna going. The Affiliate studio in Reno’s ready to broadcast when you are, and the AM and FM bands have already been auctioned.”

“I can always bring the idea up with the elders to get their input.” Said Carrie. “Otherwise I think as long as you do a CEQA process to do a full evaluation of the site, that should cover your asses about building an observatory up there. Worst case, they do an EIR and it sits on a shelf.”

Erica nodded, “Right. I can only imagine the Caltrans legal department has to go through for 80…” she finished typing out the moratorium, “Ok. So when’s the next train back to California?”

“It’s the train you came in on, it leaves tomorrow morning at 0700.” Said Carrie.

Erica frowned “There’s not a Best Western out here yet is there? Airbnb?”

“There’s a couple of boarding houses in town, but they’re run by downtimers.” Said Carrie. “You could always crash on my couch.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Said Erica as the two walked back into the Humvee.

San Bernardino International Airport

San Bernardino International Airport was an airport in name only. Converted into an airport after the closure of Norton Air Force Base, San Bernardino International, despite being designed to handle millions of passengers a year, had no scheduled passenger flights, with all passenger traffic flying into LAX, Burbank, Long Beach, Santa Ana or Ontario even before The Event. By all accounts, the airport had failed to meet expectations, and now it was only used by cargo and firefighting aircraft—as well as the storage of thousands of Volkswagen diesel cars, recalled as part of the “dieselgate” scandal.

For Cornelius Vandebilt though, he was here for something else.

After The Event. the thousands of airliners that had been stranded in California due to The Event had to be stored somewhere. And after Southern California Logistics Airport near Victorville ran out of room, the newer planes wound up at SBD, where they could be repurposed into flying again.

Vanderbilt was no fool, he realized that he didn’t know the first thing about how these mechanical monstrosities worked, but didn’t need to, because he knew the business of getting people from one place to another, and these “air planes” would put his steamship line out of business.

After all, who is going to use a steamship to get from New York to Panama to San Francisco in 5 weeks, when they can just fly the same distance in one day? Steamships were obsolete, he was betting on this new venture, Vanderbilt Airlines. He just needed to decide what type of “air plane” would be the best money maker.

“So what are you thinking of going with?” Asked his new business partner, Andrew Dorian.

“Truth be told, those A320s seem to be the best choice.” Replied Vanderbilt. “Not the A320neos though. The A320neos are too new and there isn’t as many of them as the older A320s.”

“Huh.” Replied Andrew. “I mean it makes sense, there’s a good number of ‘em stored here and at V-Ville so you’ve got plenty of airframes to gut for parts, and you got a good pool of pilots who know how to fly ‘em and mechanics that know how to fix ‘em.”

“Not expecting the ‘ignorant downtimer’ to take things like that into consideration?” Vanderbilt jibed.

“Nah.” Said Dorian. “I knew you were smart enough to think about that, but most people look at planes and only think about how fast it goes, how high it flies, and how far it can fly. They don’t think about things like ‘is it a temperamental hangar queen?’ ‘is there a supply of spare parts available?’ or ‘how much does it cost to maintain it?’”

The man stopped and folded his hands, “Mr. Vanderbilt, not to dampen your enthusiasm but what kind of airport can your men build? Running a jetliner or an airline is not an easy task, even in the 21st century it was hard for airlines to be profitable.”

“I’ve seen the airfields out here, it seems to be not much more than some flat ground to land and take off from, a terminal building and a watchtower for security.” Vanderbilt replied.

The man looked at his colleagues “Well… at it’s most basic level you are sort of right, but you need a Control Tower, Radar Dish, hangars to do maintenance, refueling, fire suppression systems…” he stopped, “You need considerable amounts of electricity, radio towers, and fuel depots.”

Vanderbilt looked pensive at the man’s objections. While he could see were he was coming from, he also knew just enough to be a pain in the ass. “Perhaps you are right for those, what was the term, hub airports? But I do have ears and I have heard men refer to ‘untowered’ airfields. Those cities on the periphery wouldn’t need all those amenities.”

“Even an untowered airfield has fire suppression. If not at the airfield, then really close by. ”

“Are there not rivers? Or the sea? Or all manner of lakes?” Replied Vanderbilt.

“Jet fuel fires isn’t like a normal fire. Water tends to just spread the burning fuel around instead of putting it out. Unpowered airfields only really work if there aren’t any other flights, and inevitably you will have to build a hub to manage the many flights per day. A jetliner of the type you are looking at requires it and connection to a control tower” He had been in air traffic control, he wouldn’t trust an A320 pilot, or any airline pilot for that matter, to land without instruction on any type of busy airfield even though all pilots are taught how to deal with something like that. If the airline pilot didn’t screw something up, someone on the ground would.

“Sir, there’s also a reason why Camp Springs is so small, it’s a two gate setup, and they have an Air Boss set up, they have two flights a day, and thankfully they can bring enough fuel for the return flight since…” well honestly he couldn’t think of a bigger waste of cargo space then to just fly a refueling plane to drop off fuel and then fly back. Sure a few planes did that for an emergency reserve but that was it. ”Fuel can be prohibitive”

Cornelius knew that he didn’t have this hand. The setup costs were too prohibitive for him right now. But that wouldn’t be the end of Vanderbilt Airlines. He’d just have to wait until somebody else built the airports for him.

Dual Chengs Fusion Bar - San Francisco - March 7, 1853 - 9:30 PM

Once a somewhat niche restaurant in a somewhat secluded corner in San Francisco, Dual Chengs had become a second home for the uptime patrons stuck in the transition as well as downtime immigrants new to California.

Two such immigrants, Konatsu and Kurami, were seated at the bar, both to get something nice and to practice their English, accompanied by Ranko, their uptimer guide.

“Are y’all ready to order?” the bartender asked the pair.

“Um, may I order the Sriracha Noodles?” Konatsu asked, in choppy English.

“Sriracha Noodles, and what about you?” They asked, turning to Kurami.

“I will have the, uhhh” Kurami began, before turning to Ranko to ask something in Japanese.

“What does this say?” Kurami asked, pointing to a dish on the menu.

“That says Cuban Style. It’s a Cuban sandwich.” Ranko says, also in Japanese.

“If you want, I can get y’all a Japanese language menu” the bartender offers, in Japanese.

“Thanks, but we really want to practice our English. Thanks though.” Kurami says, before reverting to English. “I will have the Havana Special and a...Fanta?”

“Got it, and both of you are getting good at English, especially for recent arrivals.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.” Konatasu says, blushing at the compliment.

“And what about you hun?” the bartender asked, now in front of Ranko. “What do you want?”

“Tamashii, you know damn well what I want.” Ranko replied, with fake irritation.

“I’m aware Ran-chan.” Tamashii replied, before giving her a quick peck on her cheek. “I’ll see you on break.” Tamashii added, before writing down Ranko’s order and making her way into the kitchen.

As the trio were waiting for their orders, Konatsu pondered the display that just happened between Ranko and Tamashii, the bartender.

‘Is it what I think it is? Can women do that here as well?’ were the questions bounding through her mind as she took in what just happened. Turning to Ranko, Konatsu asked her about what happened.

“Just asking, but do you like other girls?” Konatsu asked, in an almost-whisper, hoping not to attract Kurami’s attention.

“Well, the long answer is a topic for another day, but the short version is yes I do.” Ranko replied. “Why do you ask?”

Switching back to Japanese, Konatsu answered, “Well, I saw how Tamashii was flirting with you, and then she gave you a kiss on the cheek. Back home, men, especially of the Samurai class, do kiss each other, so can girls do that here as well?” she asked.

“Wait, you want to kiss Kurami?” Ranko asked, with a look of curiosity forming.

“Well, yes, but I fear that I’ll ruin my friendship with her.” Konatsu replied, in a tone not to different from someone with stage fright.

“Konatsu, turn around.” Kurami commanded, nearly giving Konatsu a panic attack.

“What do you ne-MMMMMF” was all Konatsu could manage before Kurami pulled her into a kiss, to the applause of a few of the patrons and bartenders at the bar.

Quickly pulling out her phone, Ranko took a quick photo of the kiss, mostly as a memento.

Excerpts from the SV thread: What Do We Do Now?

All that glitters said:
So it finally happened, California is now its own country. Honestly, 2018 me would never believe that this may happen, but then again, the Event happened

Slab Bulkhead said:
Wait I thought we were already our own country.

MSAfanboi said:
Well, on paper, we were still a state. In practice, the downtime US left us to fend for ourselves and screwed us over in congress. Either way, it’s a good thing that we’re out.

Bronswich said:
I’m pretty sure that Mexico recognized us as a nation before anyone else, so you’re technically correct @Slab Bulkhead.

Slab Bulkhead said:
@Bronswich fair enough lol. I guess run California is in a superposition of being both a state and an independent country until you observe it, at which point the waveform collapses and it becomes either one or the other.

MSAFanboi said:
That’s one way of putting it.

Bronswich said:
And that waveform is collapsing in front of us in the most epic way possible. I guess it’s like a slow motion train wreck?

Slab Bulkhead said:
Or to put it another way, because we had California Independence.psd, then California Independence FINAL.psd, followed by California Independence FINAL FINAL.psd

So I think up next we’ll have California Independence FINAL FINAL OPEN THIS ONE.psd and then it will be officially official.

manASS said:
That’s a lot of finals. Which begs the question of why the government would go through this quarter decade nonsense. I mean seriously, why did we have to do that?

MSAFanboi said:
Are you drunk @manASS? Because you tend to go into rants when you’re drunk, and you’re about to start one.

manASS said:
I’m just wondering why California had to stay in the US after we voted for independence. I’m sober, but thank you for your concern @MASFanboi

Slab Bulkhead said:
IIRC the theory I’ve heard is that the state govt. didn’t want to set a precedent for the South for them to secede, and make it hard for the north to preserve the union and ultimately end slavery down there.

Bronswich said:
And that resulted in either setting the precedent of states annoying their way out of the US, or making the North furious enough to secede, at least going by the abolitionist crowd. I honestly don’t know which is worse, but at least we aren’t American, eh?

Slab Bulkhead said:
@Bronswich True that. I’ve been considering myself a Californian and not an American since 2016.

All that glitters said:
With actual ficking Nazis terrorizing us before the Event, and the downtime Americans screwing us over through giving us less representatives than we should get, on top of the hick aristocracy doing everything they can to keep slavery, I can safely say that I’m fully Californian.

manASS said:
Same here. As they say, the past is a different country, they do things differently. I know that I won’t be accepted in my home country anytime soon, for obvious reasons.

Slab Bulkhead said:
Same here, I get the feeling my dyke ass won’t be accepted anytime soon in the downtime world.

MSAFanboi said:
What a mood

Bronswich said:
And I feel like we’re due for an influx of downtimers moving here for reasons that would get them lynched or something in downtime. And We should welcome them with open arms and a glass of tequila.

Slab Bulkhead said:
Oh for sure. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I support nativism just because they’re “downtimers,” I voted for Prop 6 to get away from those attitudes.

All that glitters said:
Pretty much everyone else here could say the same thing, save for probably @manASS, since he was a Belizean citizen at the time.

manASS said:
If I was a citizen during that referendum, I’d definitely vote for it.

North Island NAS - San Diego - March 8, 1853 - 6:00 AM

As the behemoth of a ship lumbered into the harbor, the people on board were celebrating, since for most of them, this will be the first time since 1852 that they’ll set foot on California soil.

“Feels good to be back home, don’t you think?” Karma asked, looking at the silhouette of San Diego over the sunrise from the flight deck of the Roosevelt.

“Frankly, we’re all at least a bit homesick.” Shirona replied. “And at least you don’t have to get bailed out when you do something really insane.”

“Name one time I had to get bailed out.” Karma said, in a tone that just seemed to tempt fate.

“That bar brawl in Savannah.” Shirona replied.

“That slave owner started it.” Karma grumbled.

“And you got banned from setting foot in the state.” Shirona added.

“Name five more ti-”

“Madras, Mogadishu, Saigon, Barcelona, Marseille, Stockholm, Saint Petersburg-”

“I get it, trouble always follows me.” Karma said it. “Anyways, we’re about to dock, so we better get below deck.”

The pair made their way below deck, joining up with a decently sized group of people with the same idea as them.

After the USS Roosevelt was tied down at the berth, the passengers and the crew made their way off the ship, with the baggage and booths getting offloaded via crane, although the 727 fuselage had to be unloaded via helicopter.

For most of the passengers and crew, this was their return to California. But for some passengers, this was their first true look at the rest of California.

One of said passengers was Toshiro Yamamoto. Originally from Japan, he had been sent along with a small envoy on the Roosevelt, so that he could learn as much about these new Californians as possible. He would’ve started as soon as he got on, but he got a little… sidetracked by their ‘video games’, with Battletoads in particular being the biggest culprit. Battletoads aside, the initial impression of California, from the massive, yet swift ‘Hirakōhansen,’ painted it as a mighty power of untold wealth, with almost magical technology in everyday use like its not a big deal.

And that’s not getting into the people aboard the ship. A mix of cultures both familiar and alien, these Californians were a diverse group of people from all walks of life in all shapes and sizes. And they were all interacting like it was nothing. Of course, it was interesting to see the kind of insanity following some of them, that incident where that ‘Ballmer’ guy flipped a table was a really funny and scary moment in Yamamoto’s opinion, tied with that one incident involving copious amounts of Vodka that he was sure never happened at all, or so he hoped.

Having spent several months aboard the Roosevelt, Toshiro had gotten a decent taste of what life in the “uptime world” was like, but that was only part of what he was here to do. Back on solid ground in California, he was easily able to make arrangements to tour California, and he had an open invitation to visit the “Nisei Week” in the “Little Edo” neighborhood of Los Angeles.

Pamphlet in hand, Toshiro and the envoy boarded the shuttle bus meant to take them across California.

The first stop? Somewhere to eat.
 
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Headlines from California

Abolitionist Protests Intensify in Philadelphia, Boston, and Baltimore Following Camp Springs Incident – BBC California

Fast-Moving Brush Fire in Glendora Prompts Evacuation of Citrus College & Azusa Pacific University, Temporarily Halts Construction of Morris/San Gabriel Pumped Storage Facility – LA Times

Fully Electric Tacoma to Start Production By Early 1854, Toyota Announces – Jalopnik

CalTrain Begins Operation of the Fully Electrified Service Along the Peninsula Corridor – SFGate.com

California and Mexico Agree to Extend Rail Service from Winterhaven to Mexico City – Streetsblog California

Chevron’s Rig Count Drops Again, Creating Uncertainty About The Future of California’s Last Oil Company – FastCompany

California Army Reopens Future Vertical Lift Program to Replace Aging Helicopter Fleet, Lockheed, Boeing, and Robinson Expected to Submit Bids – DefenseWire

Lockheed Martin Space Systems Awarded $300 Million Contract by California Air Force to Build Next Block of GPS Satellites – GNSS Today

NBC & Hulu‘s “Bleeding Kansas” Sweeps Emmys. Winning 9 Awards, including Best Dramatic Series – LA Times

Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg win the Oscar for Best Documentary “The Shape of Things to Come” - Variety

GrizzlyComm Announces Plans for the 12 Satellite Ursa Communication Network. – SFGate.com

Central Subway Finishes Construction, Expected to Open in June 1854 – Streetsblog SF

Santa Ana Zoo to Open the First Exhibit Of Animals That Went Extinct In Lost History – OC Register​

Excerpts from Downtime Newspapers

California Withdraws Congressional Delegation From Congress – New York Daily Times – March 5th, 1853

Hostilities between Abolitionists and Slaveowners Increase as Gunfights Occur in the Border States – The Philadelphia Inquirer – May 4th, 1853

His Royal Highness, Emperor Lewis Cass The First Orders Californian Subjects to Rejoin Congress – The Liberator – April 4th, 1853

Degenerate Californians Refuse to Recognize the True Government of Lewis Cass – The Daily Intelligencer – April 5th, 1853

British Shipping and Rail Magnates Consider the Benefits of Containerization – The Times – April 13th, 1853

Cass Administration Plans False Flag Operation to Start War With Mexico – Washington Globe – May 25th, 1853

Army Encircles the Californian Embassy in D.C. – Punch Magazine – June 16th, 1853

California Allies With the Indians to Suffocate the True Heirs of the Americas – Savannah Morning News – June 12th, 1853

First Downtime Owned Car Makes Its Appearance in New York City – New York Daily Times – June 8th, 1853​

Presidential Office, White House — Washington, DC - May 14th, 1853

Lewis Cass was tired of hearing about California. From the moment he took the oath of office on the Capitol steps, that troublesome state had been all anybody could talk about, and frankly he was sick of it. This latest insult by the collection of rabble they called a congressional delegation was a spit in the face to everything this country stood for.

“Mr. President?” Asked John B. Floyd, Secretary of the Navy.

“How soon can you order a blockade of California?” Cass asked.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if we can properly enforce one,” Floyd replied. “I am confident that we can keep ships belonging to other nations like the British or Hawaiians away.”

“But not Californian ships.” Cass finished.

“They don’t need ships, they can just fly over the blockade with their airplanes.” Said Floyd.

“Not to mention California would take retaliatory action against any blockade.” Said Secretary of State John Breckinridge.

“If they can arm their airplanes, we would have next to no defence.” Said Floyd. “All the weapons our Navy has is for fighting targets that are in a roughly level playing field. Our ships are not designed to fight an enemy in the air.”

“Maybe we can’t stop ships from reaching California.” Said Cass. “But we can still send a message to the fire eaters in South Carolina who are itching for an excuse to secede.”

“What about Mexico?” asked Breckinridge. “Even if we could close California’s ports, they could still unload in Ensenada and bring them north over land.”

“John.” Said Cass. “It about sending a message to the rest of the world. That California is still a part of these United States, and that the western hemisphere is our exclusive domain. I will not be undercut by some far-flung state trying to play at being a second rate power in our hemisphere!” He said, shouting.

“Yes sir, Mr. President.” Said Floyd.

“What should we tell Britain and Mexico though?” Asked Breckinridge. “They’re not going to be happy about the port closures.”

“California is not an independent Republic.” Said Cass. “It is still a part of these United States. The trouble with California is an internal affair and the United States will not have other nations interfering in America’s internal affairs.”

“Closing the ports won’t stop Mexico from trade with California.” Said Breckinridge. “California does share a border with Mexico.”

“Then we should consider an ultimatum with Mexico.” Said Cass, grabbing the lost history book from his shelf. “Baja California, Sonora, and Chihuahua.”

Breckinridge winced. “That’s a hell of a demand.” He said. “I mean, they’re still reeling from the last war, so I reckon they’d accede than risk another war though there is a chance California could keep any deal from going through. We may have to have another war.”

It was then that Secretary of War John A. Quitman spoke up. “We’d have a hell of a time raising an army for that kind of campaign. And convincing Congress would be a hard sell. Any states made from territory we acquire would no doubt allow slavery and the abolotionists of the North would oppose it. In order to get as much support for the war as possible, there needs to be an incident.”

Floyd offered a suggestion. “I think that one of our ships is going to be ruthlessly attacked while visiting port in Mexico. Such a tragedy.”

Unnoticed by any of the men in the room was a red point of light on one of the curtains in the room.

Home of Francis Preston Blair - Washington DC

In a small guest room facing the White House, Noah Feldman sat in front of a stack of recording equipment and cameras that had seemed utterly alien to the residents of this home. Along with an infrared camera that had the seeming ability to see through walls, Noah was carefully operating a laser microphone focused on the White House’s meeting room.

For Blair, an ex-Democrat, slaveowner-turned-abolitionist, and the editor of the Washington Globe, it was a dream come true. He had called in one of his best reporters and he had been seated next to Mr. Feldman with a pair of headphones, and was dutifully taking notes on the White House conversation.

“I don’t care if you have to sink the whole damn Navy to do it, just get it done.” Said the crackling voice of Lewis Cass over the headphones.

“What do we do about Camp Springs? And that ‘Embassy’ of theirs?” Asked the voice of Attorney General Jeremiah S. Black. “Governor Lowe has grown tired of that pustule on his fine state.”

“Lowe can deal with Camp Springs as he sees fit.” Said Cass. “But that Embassy is an insult, and I want it gone.”

The reporter, still wearing the headphones, continued to dutifully take down notes. This was the scoop of the century.

Presidential Palace – Mexico City - May 20th, 1853

If anybody was thankful for the volumes of Lost History foreknowledge that California’s arrival had brought with it, it was Mexican President Mariano Arista.

The foreknowledge that Antonio López de Santa Anna would have sold off the Mesilla Valley to the Americans less than a decade after granting them Alta California and Nuevo Mexico, and would have welcomed the armies of—to use that colorful phrase of the Californians—France’s Favorite Failson with open arms had severely damaged the standing of Mexico’s conservatives in the eyes of the people, and the Liberal Party had been able to capitalize on it.

The time to strike while the iron was hot was here. Many of the conservatives had been arrested for trying to bring in Santa Anna for the same coup that they had tried in the Lost History timeline. Now was the time to get the people on his side.

The land holdings of the Catholic Church had been what an uptimer would call a radioactive issue. Simply put, the church had enormous amounts of land, and used it to make the church itself extremely wealthy, while also charging ordinary parishioners exorbitant sums for services. As a result, the Catholic Church wasn’t the most popular institution in Mexico outside of the very rich and very religious.

The original idea was to confiscate the lands held by the church and by indigenous communities and convert them to privately help individual plots, creating a nation of yeoman farmers, but the record of Lost History showed the problem of that, so a new solution would be found. Church lands would still be broken up, but a representative from California had suggested something called a “community land trust” to handle it instead. There would be no large landowners buying up the land plots and replicating the same system this time.

Hand in hand was the abolition of debt peonage for farming, it was one step removed from slavery, and had too many bitter memories for a people who had long memories of the mission system.

To Arista and his new Vice President Benito Juarez, as long as the church had its stranglehold on Mexico, the Mexican people could never truly be free. Only through the separation of church and state could they keep the country together.

In front of him was a rather disturbing report that had been given to him from California’s ambassador. It had seemed that the United States was not content with Alta California, Nuevo Mexico and Tejas, but was in fact preparing to demand further land concessions from them. In Lost History, the United States would merely request the Mesilla Valley and offer money in return. In contrast, the Cass administration was preparing to demand far more land concessions from Mexico, and to seize them by force if he refused to hand over even more territory.

This aggression would not stand. The burgeoning American Empire would be halted in its tracks.

Corner of Florence & Normandie — South Los Angeles

Lewis Barker was a man having a bad day. He had been hired by a plantation owner in Georgia to retrieve his “wayward property.” He had tracked his target north to Camp Springs, but the trail went cold at the Green Zone, meaning that this runaway had likely escaped to California. Which is what had brought him to this den of sin.

Now he was in the belly of the beast and surrounded by nig—“African-Americans.” A group of right-thinking men in Huntington Beach called the “Rise Above Movement” had tipped him off to a group of runaways posing as Californians in Los Angeles, which had led him here.

Almost right away, it had been a challenge. People in his line of work had been branded as “207s,[1]” and almost everyone in California went out of their way to make things as difficult as possible for them, if not worse. Now though, he had found his target and he could be out of here soon. There, walking out of the church was Johnathan Reed, the runaway on his handbill.

“Well well well,” Barker said. “Looks like the good Lord ain’t here to protect you.” Reed stopped suddenly in shock. “I bet all these people here were taken in by your sob story and gave you a new name so you could try and hide.”

As a crowd started forming around them, Barker didn’t notice the red dot suddenly appearing on the back of his greatcoat.

“You trying to fuck with us 207?” Said somebody from the crowd.

Jonathan turned around and stared him dead in the eye, and then spat in his face. “Who the fuck are you?” He challenged.

Lewis snarled and reached for the Colt Navy revolver he had hidden in his greatcoat, not noticing the second red point of light appearing on his chest.

“Down on the ground and place your hands on your head, now!” Shouted a voice from behind him, causing his to freeze right as he was about to give his Colt Navy. Turning around Lewis saw two men in identical black uniforms walking towards him with bright yellow pistols drawn, law enforcement.

“I said get on the ground!” Said one of the officers, a black man with the nametag ‘Johnson’ pinned to his chest.

“Preposterous!” Shouted Barker. “It’s this rabble here you should be worried about.”

The crowd around him started to get angier at his words, another red dot appeared on his chest.

“On the ground 207!” Said the other officer.

“I refuse!” Said Barker. “The day that I–” his speech was cut off as the yellow pistol one of the cops was carrying suddenly shot out two metal darts with wires attached to them. In an instant, Lewis Barker was on the ground in pain as all of muscles started spasming uncontrollably.

“Ah shit!” Said one of the cops. “My body camera stopped working.”

“Fuck!” Said the other cop. “Mine also stopped working.”

Seeming to take the hint, a good chunk of the crowd had quietly shuffled over to stand between the patrol car and Barker.

“It seems that due to the crowd of bystanders, the car’s dashcam was blocked.” Said Johnson.

“Oh no, who knows what could happen now?” Said the other cop.

As Lewis looked up at the crowd, now that the electric shock had stopped, he heard one last thing.

“We know the drill, nothing that’ll leave a mark.” Came the voice of Reed.

Fort Irwin National Training Center — Mojave Desert — 0100 Hours June 6th, 1853

The Candyland plantation’s manor house loomed over the fields, the house had been built taller than any other building so that the slaves in the fields would always know ‘their place.’ For John Brown, these types of places were abominations unto God, and he could not wait for the day that these temples of exploitation were relegated to the dustbin of history.

With the moonless night covering their operation, Schultz team approached the plantation’s slave quarters, John pulled off his Night Vision Goggles and peered through his Thermal Scope at the overseer’s quarters.

Two people inside.

Shit.

Their intel source had said that the overseer was alone. Which meant that he had taken one of the slaves to his quarters.

Now he had to make a decision. If he blew up the overseer’s quarters now, it’d mean killing one of the people he was here to try and rescue, that could make it harder for the rest of them to trust him.

He looked at the building again, prayed to God for forgiveness, and started placing the mock C4 along all of the load-bearing columns.

Falling back to a safe zone with the rest of his group, he gave them the hand signal that the overseer’s building was set.

They quickly and silently moved back from the fields into the corn stalks to avoid being seen, but to where they could still see and shoot out if needed.

Only a scant few minutes later, a thundering explosion came out of a bunch of hidden loudspeakers, and bright spotlights flared brightly all around, simulating the explosion of the mansion and several outbuildings.

With the loud sound shaking everybody awake, dozens of people poured out of the slave cabins, all of them members of the 11th Armored Cavalry’s Blue Team dresses as slaves.

“Any of y’all still wanna be slaves?” Asked Brown to the crowd as several black painted Chinook helicopters touched down along the plantation grounds.

“Y’all got 3 choices.” Said Brown. “You can start walking back into town and hope they don’t arrest you as a runaway, maybe put y’all back on the auction block. You can get in those helicopters there, they’ll take you to Camp Springs, and y’all will be in California by the end of the week, or y’all can join up with us, and give everyone else in the south this same opportunity.

Fort Irwin Operations Center

“Operation Django?” Asked Director of Intelligence Michael Reynolds. “Subtlety is a lost artform.”

“You want to stop people going in to filibuster the south, this is how you do it.” Replied former FBI field director Kristoph Nedermeyer. “Police departments have been calling me because they keep finding amatuer militias springing up to try and ‘liberate’ the south. They’ve been letting them off the hook so far because nobody wants that blowback, but...”

“But you don’t want them all going off half-cocked and turning the south into something resembling uptime Mogadishu.” Said Reynolds, finishing his thought.

“Precisely!” Replied Kristoph. “I want the south liberated as much as the next man, but I have to admit that America’s track record of ‘liberation’ isn’t exactly something to inspire confidence.”

“Is that why you’re teaching them Marx and Mao then?” Asked Reynolds. “Because I had so many of the old Cold Warriors who nearly lost their minds at that.”

“I have to admit I’m not terribly surprised to hear that, but that’s why.” Replied Kristoph. “I dealt with more than a couple of graduates from the School of the Americas back before the event, they have precisely one modus operandi, rule by terror. Unfortunately, that’s already the rule in the south, so that form of ‘liberation’ would merely be exchanging one master for another, not something that we could sustain long term.”

“So then you want to do what?” Asked Michael. “Have them reenact the February Revolution and then have California embrace them with open arms?”

“Oh heaven forbid no, not the February Revolution, not at all.” Said Nedermeyer. “More along the lines of a synthesis of Haiti and uptime China’s revolutions.”

Michael Reynolds looked back across the training area. He knew that this was the only way to keep Californians from going off half-cocked into the south to liberate it, but why did he feel like he was trading one problem for another.

He sighed, “You know this is going to blow up in our faces either way, and the best solution is too expensive and too slow. We let the militias go filibustering it won’t just stop in the South, but go global destroying the old world order and replacing it with anarchy, with Californian technology just replacing European technology it creates new warlords in these regions”

Nedermeyer grunted “Some would say that. The other option?”

Reynolds laughed, “I advocate to the governor the idea of California Unilateralism, and that we are totally in the right in invading and overthrowing government for humanitarian, political or national security reasons.”

Nedermeyer laughed at that, “So your options are copying and word replacing John Bolton’s policy papers from the Bush era, or let a bunch of well meaning, ill-informed, ill-prepared people with high tech weapons run roughshod over the world with nary a directive from Sacramento?” sipping his coffee, “So what’s the correct, politically inconvenient, and expensive option?”

Reynolds got out his notebook and shoved it across the table to Nedermeyer, who picked it up to read it.

“This…” he said tapping the side of the notebook, “could work.”

Reynolds nodded sagely, “You can see why it’s politically inconvenient though, and expensive.”

Nedermeyer handed back the notebook “You’d piss off all five military branches, the PeaceCorps, Treasury and Justice. If the UN was around you’d be pissing them off too. Also you’d piss off the fiscal hawks, war hawks and peaceniks in Sacramento. You always find a way to do that. Any chance of it happening?”

“Not unless someone somewhere does something stupid at a politically opportune moment for me. Besides I’d need one of the politicians in Sacramento to back this, no way I can go to my contacts in the governor’s office on this.”

“At least it’s better than that asinine Space Force pre-event.” He began to put away his notebook which was scrawled with the name “California International Intervention and Development Corps - PLANNING NOTEBOOK” back in his briefcase.

Pearl Harbor - Hawaii - June 8, 1853

Looking across the harbor, one could see several things happening.

In the docks, the wooden sail and steamships were dwarfed by the gigantic steel ships from California. On those ships were colorful stacks of metal boxes, and a pair of equally large cranes to handle them.

Near the large ships was a fleet of similarly sized ships, carrying bulk cargo instead of boxes. On land, construction vehicles scuttled around the harbor, while a crane handled large pieces of what seemed to be another crane. Scattered around the construction site were more colorful boxes of varying sizes, some converted for other uses.

“You know, for all the borderline miraculous things to expect from California, I’ve got to say that their solutions for logistics is ingenious.” said Thomas Wilson, a major British shipping magnet.

“Really?” Asked his uptime partner, Jack.

“I’m serious. Stacking metal containers is probably the most ingenious thing the Uptimers could come up with.” Wilson replied.

“Wouldn’t it cost a fortune to retrofit ports for shipping containers?” Jack asked. “You’d need to get cranes, ships, and flatbeds designed for handling the stuff, and I doubt a 20 foot long container can be carried on a horse.”

“It’s a small price to pay for larger savings in the long run.” Wilson replied. “Speaking of, I probably might want to commission container ships for my own fleet.”

“A container steamer?” Jack asked.

“Well, if I can’t get a smaller version of one of those behemoths,” Wilson said, pointing at the cargo ship with the containers. “I might as well go for a steamer.”

“Then it better be a powerful steamer.” Jack replied.

“Hopefully, it will.” Wilson replied, before the pair went to get plastered at a nearby bar.

Toyota Hanford Assembly - 2:45 PM - June 8, 1853

In the years after the Event, many car companies, with the exception of Tesla and Toyota, had been forced to consolidate due to the instant lack of a supply chain. Even then, a lot of tooling and equipment had to be made from scratch to be able to get back on track.

Unlike Tesla, however, Toyota didn’t have a complete assembly line. They had a plant for making parts, but that was busy with making spares for every car in California that wasn’t a Tesla.

As a result, until new engine toolings can be made, any new car has to be electric, since that was what most of the auto industry in Pre-Event California was tailored towards.

“So what’s the state of the factory?” asked David Tracy, on behalf of Jalopnik. “When will production start?”

“Well, the new toolings for the Tacoma and Corolla assembly lines are finished, but the machinery needed is still either being transported or made as we speak.” Michelle Bryant, Toyota’s sales director, answered.

“And what about the batteries?” Tracy asked.

“For now, we’re sourcing the batteries from Tesla’s Victorville Gigafactory. In the future, we hope to source our own battery designs, and possibly new engines as well.” Bryant said.

“What about lithium, cobalt, and all the other rare earths?” Asked Tracy. He had some idea but it was a constant topic of concern for his readers.

“Well right now there’s a geothermal power plant by the salton sea that also is producing Lithium out of a geothermal plant’s brine.” She explained. “That’s the biggest supplier of lithium in California right now. As for Cobalt, it’s a side product of copper mining so we contract with a few companies that have been re-mining the tailings of historic copper mines in the state, as well as doing environmental remediation on the sites. As for rare earths, there’s a mine not that far from the 15, just past the Ivanpah Solar Plant, it had actually existed before the Event and had actually been in the process of reopening before the event due to the trade war.”

Pointing to the large line behind her, Bryant started talking about future plans.

“As soon as the machinery gets moved in, and the lines fully retrofitted with the new toolings, we’ll be able to start a pre production run by mid-late October, and full production by 1854.” she said.

“And what’s the estimated cost of the new cars?” Tracey asked.

“Hopefully, they’ll cost about as much as their pre-Event counterparts, if not cheaper.” Bryant said.

“Speaking of, may I test drive the Tacoma test mule?” Tracey asked.

“It was planned for your visit. The mule is on the proving ground. It’s ready when you are.” Bryant replied.

“Can’t wait to try it out.” Tracy said.

Alcatraz Island — June 11th, 1853

Painted along the walls by the dock, were the words “Indians Welcome” and “This is Indian Land,” a remnant of the American Indian Movement’s two year occupation of the island to protest the federal government’s policy of Indian Termination, which had been a policy of forced assimilation in order to force Native Americans off of their lands.

Since then, Alcatraz Island, along with the occupation of Wounded Knee afterwards, had remained a powerful symbol to uptime Native Americans of solidarity. It was with that symbolism in mind that Newsom had chosen the island to host the signing ceremony for the Treaty of Alcatraz.

With the relationship between California and the United States deteriorating fast, the suggestion for a buffer state between them and California had been thrown around a lot, not to mention the pressing need for a centralized framework to handle the various ad hoc projects being constructed out in the Great Basin area, such as the reconstruction of I-80, I-10, & I-15, Wikawhata Dam, and others.

So when somebody suggested “Hey why don’t just do something like NATO for the Indians to the east?” It had been like a lightning bolt in the room, the most obvious solution staring them in the face, bringing representatives from all of the Native American groups in the Great Basin together, and hammer out a NATO for the West.

It was all well and good, except for the fact staring everyone in the face, that the downtime Native Americans would likely see them as interchangeable with the downtime Americans. Which had led California’s fledgeling State Department to seek out input from uptime Native Americans, leading them to LaNada War Jack, one of the original members of the Alcatraz Occupation.

If any one person could be credited with crafting the Treaty of Alcatraz, it was LaNada War Jack. When she was first approached with the idea for a “Great Basin NATO,” she had politely laughed in their faces and said that it wouldn’t work because it would devolve into being “California and assorted satellite states.”

But to her credit, she didn’t just shoot down the idea and move on, but rather, LaNada had spent the next week researching what the situation was like for the downtime Native Americans and how to make it work.

So it was a surprise to the State Department to get a call from her a week later saying “I know how to make this treaty work.”

The final treaty was an amalgamation of the North Atlantic Treaty, UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, and the Treaty of Rome.

Which is what her back to Alcatraz, the Island that she had occupied so many years ago, for the final signing ceremony.

The past few years had been hectic for her, visiting various tribes in the Great Basin and resolving disagreements with everyone, but her work had paid off with the Treaty of Alcatraz, and the imminent creation of WATO.

“Good morning everyone.” Said Gavin Newsom. “Today marks a new beginning for California and for the nations of the Great Basin. The Western America Treaty Organization should not be viewed by some as a threat, but instead as a way of bridging the divide between our nations. California has the potential to become a great power, but we cannot achieve that by walling ourselves off in fortress California, a rising tide lifts all boats.”

“Which is why we have allocated funding grants for infrastructure, healthcare and education in the Great Basin.” Said Newsom. “In the year 1948 of our lost history, a gentleman named George Marshall, the Secretary of State at the time, gave away billions of dollars to European nations that were still recovering from a devastating war, much of it without any expectation of repayment. It was because of that generosity that Europe was able to recover from the devastation of that war in record time and raised the standard of living dramatically in those years. That is why we as Californians can afford to be this generous, because that rising tide will benefit everyone.”

Gavin pulled out the pen he had been gifted for this particular signing ceremony. “That’s why it is without further ado that I sign this treaty in a spirit of peace and friendship.” Signing his name on the treaty, he passed it down the table.

As each leader signed the treaty, Bannock, Shoshone, Navajo, Pueblo, Hopi, Paiute, Goshute, Yavapai, Hualapai, Apache, Chemehueve, Havasupai, Diné, Quechan, and Ute, each one giving a statement about the need for mutual defense and how an attack on one was an attack on all.

Californian Embassy - Washington DC - 9:15 AM - June 15th, 1853

California’s unofficial Embassy to the downtime United States had started life as a pair of townhouses, originally bought to house the offices of the California congressional staff that would’ve been seated in Congress had the Devil’s Bargain not occurred. However, once it became clear that the downtime Congress had no intention of treating California fairly, the townhouses had been repurposed and refurbished to serve as what would hopefully become the new Californian Embassy. A truckload of K-rails with chain link fences had been brought over from Camp Springs to serve as a temporary barrier around the property while the proper fence was in the process of being built.

The interiors of the complex’s buildings had been gutted and rebuilt, with solar panels being installed on the roof and enough battery packs installed in the basement to serve the Embassy for a week without power. The building had also been furnished with an encrypted high bandwidth satellite uplink that could allow for real time communication with California directly, as well as an encrypted microwave dish that would connect it to Camp Springs.

The lower floors were then turned into the kinds of public-facing services that a Caifornian abroad might need from from an embassy, while the upper floors contained offices, conference rooms and bedrooms for the ambassadors and embassy staff.

A family of runaway slaves had approached the gate of the property that served as the Californian embassy, as the carriage used to get them there waited for signs of struggle before leaving. Both parents carried pamphlets for a Frederick Douglass lecture, along with whatever belongings they had. The daughters weren’t far behind, carrying the supplies they were using for the trip.

As they stood at the gate, one of the guards, who happened to also be African-American, turned to face the family. A security camera loomed over them, monitoring the situation closely.

“State your identities and intentions.” The guard said.

The father of the family spoke up, speaking clearly and concisely.

“Hello. My name is Dred Scott, and this is my family.” he said. “We are requesting asylum in the Republic of California, and are fugitives as defined by the Fugitive Slave Act.

The other guard contacted the head of security and Ambassador Jones over his radio, summarizing what had just happened.

As the gates opened to let the family in, a marshal watched the events unfolding.

“Looks like we have to act ahead of schedule.” he mused, before he slank away.

White House - 11:30 AM

President Lewis Cass smiled sitting looking out at National Mall as sheep grazed on the White House lawn on the Washington Monument still under construction, and made a mental note to see about getting construction restarted, somehow the Know-Nothings had gotten control of it. He was reading over some Congressional papers when he saw a U.S. Marshal walk in from the House with Attorney General Jeremiah Black shaking his head, and a man he had never met.. This was not going to be good news. Sighing he nodded at them “Jeremiah, what brings you here today. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Thursday cabinet meeting.”

“Seems California has stepped up their flouting of Federal Law. Mr. Winthrop if you would be so kind as to elucidate the crisis to the President?” he said sitting down at the table with the President. The Marshal nodded, “Yes sir. Mr. President, I was assisting Mr. Gibson here in tracking down some runaways. Prominent runaways.”

Black nodded, “Dred Scott is one of them. You remember that situation?”

The President massaged his brow, “Let’s hear it. Camp Springs? Once a slavecatcher leaves for California they don’t return well.”

The marshal shook his head, “No sir, We were able to stop them from getting to Camp Springs, but they got to the embassy, and they’ve requested asylum.”

“Must that damnable state continue to vex my presidency?!” Throwing his papers off the table, “Jeremiah, you still have that amicus brief asserting that secession is illegal? Get the marshals to-“

His attorney general held up his hand, “We can’t Mr. President. If they were a sovereign state, they could assert diplomatic privileges, if they were congressional offices, they would assert separation of powers. The U.S. Marshals cannot and will not.”

Cass glared at Jeremiah, “Do you mean to tell me that only Congress can storm that damnable building? What, do we need to censure California’s senators and Representatives too or is Congress still at loggerjam?” The President stood up and gripped the railing looking out at the National Mall for a moment before turning back to his guests. “Mr. Winthrop, return to your assignment, thank you for your report. Jeremiah please ask Mr. Stephens in the house to get whatever committee approval is needed to get the Sergeant of Arms to arrest the California Congressional delegation for contempt and removal. THEN, we can have the Marshals storm the compound, is that acceptable Mr. Black, or do I need a co-signature from the Queen of England as well?” He thundered. “They have forced our hand. One way or another California will respect federal law.”

Californian Embassy - 9:30 PM

As former representative Ro Khanna was hard at work at his office in the upper floor of the House-turned-Embassy, he was bantering with fellow former rep Salud Carbajal about the gradual train wreck that is the political climate of the Downtime US.

“You know, I pity the person who’ll be sent in as ambassador to this swamp.” Karbajal said.

“I’d honestly pity whomever Cass sends to us.” Khanna replied. “They’ll be hated no matter what, unless it’s someone like Lincoln.”

At that moment, one of the aides entered into the room alongside two marines who quickly closed the windows and shutters.

“What’s going on?” Khanna asked.

“There’s a group of soldiers outside the embassy sirs.” Said the aide. “Security is asking you to stay in place while the Marines handle the situation.”

“This could get bad.” Karbajal said. “What’s the exit plan?”

Just then, a loud klaxon started ringing out in the building. “Lockdown. Lockdown. Lockdown.” Came an automated voice over the PA system.

“Attention embassy staff.” Came the voice of Ambassador Jones over the PA. “We are entering lockdown within the embassy, please secure your desks and proceed calmly to your muster stations.”

Outside the Embassy

Under the darkness of the night, broken only by the gas lamps on the street corners, the US Army assembled outside of the fortified townhouses. They had assembled under direct orders from The Sergeant at Arms of Congress Nathan Sargent and backed up by President Cass himself.

The mission: arrest the delegates and bring them back to Congress.

Cannons were wheeled into position, both to break down the gates and to try and ward off any flying machine sent in.

“Cannons ready,” shouted Colonel Anderson.

“Aim” the cannons all aimed at the gate.

On the other side of the barriers, a pair of armed Humvees and an M1 stood guard, with their weapons trained back at the soldiers

“Well shit, there goes most of this month.” said one of the gunners, as he and several others realized that this standoff would last for a while.

Back in the Embassy

The delegation had made their way to their muster stations, where they would wait until they can be extracted. The usual sounds of a 19th century city seemed deathly silent, as uptime marines stared down the downtime soldiers. And even though the Marines had the technological advantage, there was a lot of soldiers surrounding the gates, which would result in brutal fighting.

“How long will it take for the chopper to arrive?” Karbajal asked. “Or are we holding out here?”

“We’re getting out. It’s just gonna take time for the chopper to arrive.” Said Khanna

At that moment, the voice of Ambassador Jones came over the speakers.

“Attention Embassy staff.” Said Jones. “We’re going to be extracting non-essential personnel shortly. Please make your way to the helipad.”

“Finally. It’s been an hour.” Khanna said.

Back outside the Embassy

The standoff had intensified as the US Army surrounded the embassy with cannons and soldiers, while the Marines in the Humvees and IFVs had their weapons trained back at the rows of soldiers. Both the uptime marines or the downtime soldiers were just staring at each other waiting for each other to make the next move.

From above, a pair of V-22s flew over the townhouses, landing in the helipad on the lawn.

“What’s the status of the cannons?” asked the commanding officer, Henry Halleck, to the chief gunner.

“They’re ready to go.” the gunner said.

“Remember our orders, don’t fire unless fired upon.” Halleck said, as he and his men faced down the Californian troops.

With that, the US Army settled in around the embassy for the long haul, leaving a potential warzone and a political clusterfuck for the next days newspapers to pounce on.



1: Section 207 of the California Penal Code: Kidnapping
 
Headlines From California

NBC’s Rebroadcast of ‘Roots’ Draws Record High Ratings - The Hollywood Reporter - June 20th, 1853

Ottoman Empire, Bavaria, and Russia to Open Embassies in California – Sacramento Bee - June 26th, 1853

Hospital Ship CNS Mercy Arrives In Edo Bay For Six Month Visit to Downtime Japan – LA Times - July 1st, 1853

Washington Embassy Standoff Continues Into 21st Day, Cass Administration Refuses Overture of Peace – LA Times, July 6th, 1853

Everything You Need To Know About the Electric Tacoma – Donut Media – July 10, 1853

Camp Springs Now Under Siege, US Army Refuses to Allow Civilians and Foreign Dignitaries to Leave - San Jose Mercury News - July 11, 1853

CalSemi Cisco: “First New Model ASR-53 Radio Teletypes Shipping To Customers 1853 Q3” – Ars Technica – July 14, 1853

8minute Energy to Open The First Utility-Scale Solar Farm in Hawai’i – UtilityDive - July 13th, 1853

Fact Check: Emperor Nicholas’s Claims of Christian Oppression in Macedonia Region. Our Rating: Pants on Fire - PolitiFact - July 22nd, 1853

Netflix’s New Documentary Series ‘Erberus and Terror’ Paints a Terrifying Picture of Downtime Exploration - Buzzfeed - July 24th, 1853​

Headlines From Around the World

Washington Embassy Standoff Continues as Cass Refuses To Acknowledge California as a Sovereign State – New York Tribune – July 5th, 1853

Port of Southampton to Undergo Massive Overhaul to Handle Containerization, Constructs Dock Crane – The Times – July 10th, 1853

Sen. Charles Sumner (FS-Mass.) Delivers Scathing Rebuke of Slave Power’s Role in California Crisis on the Senate Floor - The Liberator – July 15th, 1853

Industry Magnates Interested in the Sale of Californian Made ‘Automobiles’ – New York Sun – July 20th, 1853

First ‘High Rise’ Apartments to Start Construction in West Philadelphia – The Philadelphia Inquirer – July 22nd, 1853

Scathing Audit of British East India Company by KPMG Finds “Centuries of Mismanagement,” Is Ordered Dissolved by Parliament. – Manchester Guardian – July 24th, 1853

Emperor Cass Creates a Disaster – Camden Clarinet – July 25th, 1853​

Excerpt From The Downfall of Emperor Cass (1870), by Armando Iannucci


INT. PRESIDENT’S OFFICE - DAY

President Cass sits at his desk in his office. Secretary of State Beckenridge and Colonel Anderson sit at the chairs in front of the desk.

CASS
Both of you had better tell me what the HELL you just did.

BRECKINRIDGE
Well uhm… It was Anderson’s idea-

ANDERSON
I was following the directives that Secretary Breckinridge gave me.

CASS
I don’t care! About your little pissing contest, what the HELL did you two do?!

ANDERSON
We, uh, laid siege to the embassy, but those heathen Californians used-

BRECKINRIDGE
Mister President, we’re terribly-

Anderson puts a sock in the mouth of Breckinridge

ANDERSON
-used a pair of flying machines to get around our siege and retreat to that zit of a fortress they refer to as Camp Springs.

CASS
I don’t CARE what excuses you two IDIOTS come up with! This EMBARRASSMENT of a siege has gone on for four weeks. FOUR! WEEKS! I do not want anyone leaving Camp Springs! Both of you had better come up with something or else BOTH of you are fired. Did I make myself clear?

BRECKINRIDGE
Yes sir Mr. President

ANDERSON
Crystal clear sir.

CASS
Good. Because both of your careers are on the line here.

Anderson and Breckenridge make their way out of the office as fast as they could. As soon as they leave, Cass stands up and grips his desk. In a bout of anger, Cass flips his desk, throwing everything on it to the floor.


Gyeongbokgung, Hanseong — Kingdom of Joseon - July 1st, 1853

Former Marine 1st Lieutenant Dennis Cho was still reeling from the fact that he was assigned to be the official California envoy to the Kingdom of Joseon. He understood the reasoning behind his appointment; he was one of the most senior officials present in the Korean consulate in San Francisco and spoke fluent Korean. Despite this, he felt out of place as he was escorted by a court official through the beautiful Gyeongbokgung Palace, a palace that was a mere museum exhibit in the future Republic of Korea. Not only was Joseon... different than the Korea he was used to, but he hardly felt qualified to represent his home state as an ambassador despite his experience in the consulate and in the military.

Thankfully he wasn't alone, as he was accompanied by two members of the delegation. One of them was a fellow worker from the Korean consulate, a tall Korean-American man by the name of Park Min-ho. His eyes glanced at different objects and buildings as he studied the "restored" palace with great interest. The other individual was a Korean girl named Lee Young-joo, an international student that was studying at UCLA before the transition. Despite her young face, she had already received a history degree from Seoul University and studied history extensively, thus her role as an advisor to the Californian delegation to Korea. While she was behaving herself, her stares and looks toward various "historical" objects of significance were much more noticeable than Park's occasional glances.

"Remember, Mr. Cho. You don't need to be too stiff or nervous about meeting the current king. The current Joseon king was born a peasant and was forced to become the king due to his bloodline. He will act and look much less formal than the other members of the court. Of course, we'll all act formally, but he won't punish you for slipping up." Lee whispered to him in English.

Cho nodded, "Thank you, Young-joo. Let's hope that this meeting is a success."

The court official guiding them looked intrigued when they both spoke English but remained composed as he took them up the stairs to the throne room, "This way, Ambassador Cho. His Majesty awaits."

When the doors of the throne room opened, Cho came face to face with a very familiar scene that he witnessed in every historical Korean drama he had watched in the past. Court officials were lined up onto the side of the aisle while the King of Joseon, King Cheoljong sat on his throne above his subjects. The king wore royal clothes, but they were much simpler than the ones he had seen in museums and pictures. He smiled warmly as the Californian delegation walked in and waved his hand after the delegation bowed before him, "All of you, please rise."

The former marine raised his head but avoided directly staring into the king's eyes unless he was spoken to. His eyes darted around the throne room and saw that many of the court officials were looking at him with suspicion and fascination. When the king spoke directly to him, Cho raised his head to look at the Korean ruler, "Now, I have heard much about this "California", a land from the future that is filled with marvels that are beyond anyone's comprehension. Tell me then, do you know the future of Joseon?"

"Yes, your highness," Cho answered.

"Then enlighten me and the court about Joseon's future. I'm sure that our country is prosperous and thriving in the future like it is today?" King Cheoljong stated as he stood up from his chair and paced eagerly before the delegation.

No, it got conquered by Japan because the government became complacent and corrupt and various high ranking officials willingly surrendered Korea to Japan to keep their fortunes and positions. Cho mused silently as he formed his words carefully, "Joseon will cease to exist within 55 years, your highness."

Every downtimer within the room turned their eyes to the ambassador, their faces mixed with shock and disbelief. The king especially looked troubled as he slumped into his chair and stared at Ambassador Cho, "What becomes of Joseon then?"

"It becomes a conquered nation, a territory of Japan after the government willingly surrendered its own independence and sovereignty. Joseon will be occupied by four decades, and then occupied by the Americans and Russians after Japan is defeated in a war against the United States and Russia. In the future that I come from, Korea is divided into two nations, a North Korea that follows closely to the ideals of Russia at the time and a South Korea that follows closely to the ideals of the United States. Both Koreas are hostile to one another, as they went to war with one another, a war that left a million Koreans dead."

"Your majesty, this man is lying. There is no way our proud and powerful nation would willingly submit to those barbarous Japanese and be divided so easily!" One of the court officials cried out as he bowed to the king.

King Cheoljong glared at the official that spoke out with fury, "Silence! While I have my doubts about his tale, he hails from the future and if his stories are true, then we must ensure that history is not repeated once again."

Ambassador Cho bowed his head, "I do have several books in my possession back at my lodging that will verify my claims, your highness. It will explain the history behind Joseon's fall and the fate of Korea."

The king nodded as he looked at the Californian ambassador directly in the eye, "Tell me, ambassador, who was the ruler of Joseon when Joseon fell. Was it me?"

"No, your highness. The ruler of Joseon at the time was King Gojong, the son of Daewongun and the last king of Joseon," Cho hesitated but continued, "In the world that I come from, you passed away at the age of 32."

"At the age of 32? But I am perfectly healthy!" King Cheoljong stood up and moved around to prove his point, "What was the reason for my early death?"

"I believe that should be a private matter, your highness," Cho stated simply, feeling some perspiration roll down his back. He had studied up extensively on this time period for the meeting and knew that if the king discovered the knowledge he knew, it could potentially lead to a civil war or worse.

Muttering began to break out between the court officials as they speculated on the new revelation, but the King of Joseon silenced them and looked at Cho steely, "I insist, ambassador."

Cho gulped and glanced at some of the officials nervously, "You were assassinated, your highness. There was no official proof, but..."

"Who dared?" King Cheoljong glowered as he swept his eyes across the room. Suddenly, all the court officials cowered under the king's gaze and tensions began to rise in the room as the officials realized that it was possible that they planned the assassination that would happen in the future.

"The Andong Kim clan."

Immediately, the king yelled for his guards to enter the room. When the guards heeded his call, he pointed accusingly at several of the officials, "Arrest all members of the Andong Kim clan and throw them into prison! All of them are to be jailed for plotting to assassinate the rightful King of Joseon! I hereby declare the Andong Kim clan to be national traitors!"

The guards moved rapidly and arrested several members of the court in quick succession. Nearly a dozen individuals were escorted away as Cho looked at the king in shock.

King Cheoljong gave an apologetic smile to the ambassador, "I'm sorry, ambassador. I do not know what your history book says about me, but I will not be a forgotten king that was assassinated early in his reign and the predecessor to the last king. I will listen to what you have to say and change Joseon with my own hands if I must. Now please, continue"

Kropotkin House - Moscow, Russian Empire

It was a portrait of the Tsar’s paranoia that the knowledge of “Lost History” had meant that nobody was spared his wrath, not even a princely family that descended from the legendary Rurik dynasty. Major General Prince Alexei Kropotkin had yet to read any of the lost history books, the Ministry of Education having banned them for “seditious thought,” thus he had no idea that his 8 year old son Pyotr was on the Tsar’s list.

As Alexei laid in bed next to his wife, he was rudely awoken by somebody knocking on his door.

Alexei groaned and put his pillow over his head, hoping that whoever was knocking on his door would take the hint and go away.

They did not stop.

“Major General! Major General! I must speak with you immediately!” Came a voice through the door.

With their visitor not likely to stop pounding on the door anytime soon, Alexei threw on a bathrobe and opened his front door. There in front of his door was a pair of Gendarmes, officers of Third Section, the Tsar’s secret police.

“Well?!” He shouted angrily at the bewildered Gendarmes. “What is it that you want?!”

“Major General sir…” Said one of the Gendarmes, “May we come in?”

“If you have something you wish to say to me, you can say it to me here.” Alexei rebuked.

“Please sir, I don’t want to make a scene.” Replied the gendarme.

“You’re already making a scene by knocking at my door at this ungodly hour.” Said Alexei.

As he looked out the door past the officer, he saw that a small crowd was watching them while also trying not to watch, hoping that they weren’t about to end up on the Third Section’s lists.

“I must insist on speaking to you privately sir.” He said.

“Fine.” He relented and led the Third Section gendarme into his parlor.

As the two sat down in the lavishly decorated parlour, the Third Section officer grew increasingly nervous about having to deliver this news to the prince.

“I’m afraid I come bearing some bad news about your son.” He began. “I’m afraid that… I’m afraid that your son is on our list.”

Alexei grew furious at this. “Are you mad!” He shouted “Pyotr is only eight years old! How could he possibly be on your lists!”

“That’s who I’ve got on my list sir.” Said the Third Section officer. “Pyotr Alexeyevich Kropotkin, wanted for future subversive activity and seditious writings.”

“This is insane!” Shouted Alexei. “You are trying to kidnap my son, my heir, because you think he’s going to write a seditious book in the future! I should have you hung for that!”

“Major General Sir, I am only trying to follow the orders I was given on behalf of the Tsar.” The Third Section office pleaded.

“I don’t give a damn about your orders!” Alexei shouted, snatching the list out of the officer’s hand. “Look at this, you have Governor Perovsky’s daughter on here for ‘plotting to kill the tsar’ when she hasn’t even been born yet!”

“Major General Sir,” The officer started. “I must-”

“Get out of my house!” Alexei shouted. “Get out and tell Count Orlov that I will be informing the Tsar of his plots!”

As the Third Section officer nervously backed out of the parlor, it was at that moment that Alexei heard the voice of his wife ring down the stairs.

“Pyotr? Pyotr where are you?” She asked.

Alexei turned his burning gaze towards the retreating Gendarme, quickly walking over to his front door, he found that the other damnable Gendarme was putting his son into the back of their horse-drawn wagon.

“How dare you kidnap my son!” He shouted, “I will have the both of you shot for treason!”

But it was too late, the Third Section Gendarmes had already started riding off, with young Pyotr Kropotkin in tow.

N Street Café – N Street & 21st Street, Sacramento

Sidney Herbert, 1st Baron Herbert of Lea and the newly appointed ambassador to California took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of his fresh cup of tea. The worst part about any kind of diplomatic posting for an Englishman was that it was almost impossible to get a good cuppa. In that respect, California wasn’t the worst place to be, as this café he had found was at least able to make a decent cup of tea.

When that Leviathan of a ship called the Roosevelt had dropped anchor in Southampton, it had been First Lord of the Admiralty James Graham who was the first to fully realize the implications of what the New California would mean for Britain when he had been gifted a VHF Marine Radio, something that had all the admiralty drooling over what California could do for Britain.

It was very clear, Great Britain could not afford to be on California’s bad side, which is why the Aberdeen Ministry had dispatched him to the Americas, to open the Crown’s embassy in Sacramento, and to keep Britain on California’s good side.

It was at this moment that his Californian counterpart, Michael Howells, walked into the café, carrying a copy of the Los Angeles Times.

“I never thought I’d say this, but Mr. Cass is almost making me miss the uptime President.” Said Howells.

“Really?” Asked Herbert, “I was under the impression that he was a bit of a fool.”

“I said almost.” Said Howells. “But Trump’s incompetence was at least kept in check. No such luck here.”

“Well all I can say is that one should never interrupt an enemy when they’re making a mistake.” Said Herbert. “If Cass wants to act like King Canute, then he should not be surprised when the rising tide sweeps him away.”

“And that’s why you’re here then.” Said Howells. “The rising tide.”

“In a manner of speaking yes.” Explained Sidney. “Her Majesty wishes to establish an embassy in California, and likewise has invited a representative of California to St. James’s Place.”

“While I am impressed and pleased to hear that, I must ask, what would Her Majesty’s government gain from this?” Asked Michael.

“An alliance with the rising tide, and a free trade of goods.” Said Sidney, pulling a map of the Oregon Territory and British Columbia out of his attache case. “We would also request that California extend their railway project from it’s planned northern terminus of Eugene to Fort Langley.”

“And how does this benefit California?” Asked Michael.

“It’s simple really.” Said Sidney, “If California extends the railway to New Caledonia, more Californians will move into the Oregon Territory, and that territory becomes dependent on California’s largesse, making annexation all but inevitable. In return, Her Majesty loses a rival for the Pacific, and gains a valuable partner in California.”

“And Albinion gains while Washington loses without firing a shot.” Said Michael.

“Of course.” Said Sidney. “With the mere threat of a British embargo, I think California will find that Washington will become quite malleable. After all, according to your own ‘Lost History,’ it was the Japanese who were able to leverage their alliance with us to defeat Russia, all without Britain firing a single shot.”

Outside the California Embassy, Massachusetts Ave NW, Washington DC - July 24th, 1853, 4:30 AM

Above the Californian Embassy, helicopters circled overhead, shining a powerful spotlight onto the soldiers assembled on the street. The loud noise of the rotor blades had ensured that none of the soldiers camped out on the street was able to sleep. The Californians had done this at irregular intervals every night for weeks now with one goal, make the occupation of the streets surrounding California’s Embassy as frustrating as possible in the hopes that Cass would call it off.

It had frustrated the generals to no end, California was yet to fire a single shot, yet used all of their other means to annoy their men had done nothing but fuel the rumors circulating about what kind of dark magic the Californians could do.

Private James Mason had been out on watch one night and was suddenly overcome with the feeling that all of his clothes were on fire, something that had caused him to immediately strip off all of his clothes right there on his watch.

For that, he had been branded a coward and given the lash.

As Corporal Charles Fleamont laid in his tent, trying in vain to sleep, he had begun to wonder if it was worth it. For nearly two weeks now, he had kept his Mississippi rifle loaded and on him at all times, per General Garland’s orders, and he was itching to use it, if only so that this interminable waiting could be over. That the Californians had yet to fire on them, instead choosing to annoy them with these petty moves showed their true cowardly nature for all to see.

As the buzzing noise of the helicopter grew louder again, a booming voice echoed from it again. “Your officers are sending you to fight a battle you cannot win! They will throw your lives away just to salvage their own reputation! Lay down your arms!”

It was the same message as every night, trying to use their honeyed words to turn his fellow soldiers into deserters. He did have to admit though that it was a mighty effective message. Already the 6th infantry had lost a large number of their men to cowardice and desertion. Mason, a man who had been impeccably loyal to the union had fled after being branded a coward, choosing to live down to his acquired reputation.

As the infernal helicopter moved off, Fleamont saw the first signs of daylight through the tent canvas, and with it came the sound of the morning bugle through the tent.

Dragging himself out of his tent and dressing himself in his uniform, he took a look at himself in the pot hung up in the tent as an improvised mirror and reflected that his uniform had seen better days.

Outside on the street, the rest of his tentmates slowly shambled outside for a breakfast of hardtack and salted pork. Sitting down on the log around the fire, Charles went to work picking the weevils and maggots out of his meal before biting down on the tough meat and nearly rock hard biscuit.

“Psst… Hey Charles!” Came a whisper from one of the tents. “We stole some rations from the Californians!”

Charles’s ears perked up at that, everyone had been eating salted pork and hardtack for the past few weeks, and were desperate for anything else. Which is why he walked over to the tent on the offer of contraband rations. It was only a couple of days ago that he had to watch through the fence as a Californian soldier feasted like a king on something called “Chili Mac” with nought but an empty stomach.

Walking into the tent, he saw a stack of those pre-packaged California meals, with the printed lettering on the front declaring them to be “meals ready to eat.”

With selections like “Chicken a’la King,” “Bean and Rice Burrito” and “Cheese and Veggie Omelette,” it was obvious that California so outclassed then that they could send perishable foods such as vegetables, eggs, and chicken to the front lines and have them not spoil.

Grabbing the veggie omelette one from the pile, Charles tore open the packaging on the meal, only to find inside a collection of smaller packages inside.

“What’d you get?” Asked the other soldier.

“Veggie omelette.” Said Charles, putting the omelette package into the included flameless ration heater. “You got a canteen?” He asked.

“Here.” Said one of the other soldiers, passing his canteen around to the rest of the group so they could each cook their meals.

“I’m telling you, California is all talk, no fight.” Said Private Benjamin Marks, closing the bag and shaking his meal of 4 pork sausages to start the heating process. “They just stand there looking scary in their fortresses, but they’re too afraid to actually fight. Cowards, the lot of them.”

As the ration heater bags continued to bubble away, steam pouring out the sides.

“I reckon they’re just arrogant.” Said Charles, pulling his cheese and veggie omelette out of the heating bag and tearing it open. “They know they’ve got this huge advantage, but they don’t think it’s sporting when it’s so unfair, so they’re fighting with one hand behind their backs to make it fair.”

As the conversations in the tent continued, Charles unwrapped the spoon from that odd material, and took a heaping spoonful of that cheese and veggie omelette. What came out of the bag was a quivering yellow gelatinous blob that in no way resembled what an uptimer would call an omelette.

But if Charles was at all apprehensive about eating it, he didn’t show it. That first bite of it slithered down his throat it record time.

It was certainly an odd taste and the texture of it bore a close resemblance to pond scum, but compared to the dried and salted pork with the consistency of shoe leather or hardtack biscuits so tough that you could chip a tooth on them, this slimy imitation of a cheese omelette was like fine cuisine.

As the Army’s bugleman started playing again to alert the soldiers to the change in watch, Charles began wolfing down the remainder of the omelette.

“Ten-hut!” Came the shout of the sergeant. “Alright you lot, you’re on watch duty next, clean and reload your rifles, and then man the barricades.”

Charles grabbed his trusty Mississippi Rifle, sat on the bench and got to work. The first and most important step was to unload the gun, so he took the ramrod out of the holster beneath the barrel, attached a screw to it and got to work removing the bullet from the barrel.

After a good 5 minutes banging and jostling the rifle to the stubborn bullet out of the barrel, it finally came out.

Having removed the bullet, it was far easier to remove the wadding, and black powder.

Charles then got to work cleaning, lubricating, and reloading his rifle.

“Fleamont!” Came the shout of Sergeant Berringer right in his ear, causing him to fumble and drop his rifle. “Front and center!”

Charles quickly grabbed his rifle stood at attention, “Yes Sergeant!”

“What do you have to say about the sorry state of your uniform Private?” The Sergeant asked, looking down at the fresh stains on Fleamont’s frock coat. “Have you forgotten how to chew with your mouth closed?”

“Sir no sir!” He shouted.

“Get those stains off of your coat after your watch Private.” Berringer ordered.

“Yes sir!” Fleamont replied.

As the Sergeant walked off, Charles sat back down with his rifle and started back up cleaning and reloading it.

Having already removed the bullet and the powder charge, he grabbed a new black powder charge out of his ammunition pouch, putting it down the barrel, followed by a set of wadding, and then a fresh bullet.

Having placed the bullet down the barrel, he grabbed the ramrod and started packing the new road in place, leaning his head over the barrel to make sure that he was packing the fresh round in tight.

It was at this point that things went horribly wrong.

The percussion cap on Charles’ rifle had begun to leak Mercury Fulminate salts onto the nipple. This would be a problem on its own, but the quartermaster was trying to get everyone to preserve their limited supply of percussion caps, and so Sergeant Berringer had ordered the men to keep the caps on their rifles, and the quartermaster himself had chosen to start reissuing old unfired caps in order to prolong their supply of caps.

Unfortunately for Charles Fleamont, as he was busy with his ramrod trying to force the stubborn bullet down the rifled barrel, the buildup of Mercury Fulminate salts on the nipple had begun to press on the percussion cap.

In an instant, the buildup of Mercury Fulminate salts on the cap on Fleamont’s rifle caused it to ignite, creating a small shock along with a few sparks. These sparks, in turn, ignited the black powder charge in the rifle, which very quickly turned into very hot expanding gas, pushing the lead bullet and ramrod back up the barrel.

The ramrod quickly flew out of Charles’s hand, being deflected by his former grip on it just enough that it flew upwards and grazed against his skin, tearing off part of his scalp and hair.

The bullet behind it, had no such luck. It flew straight up the barrel, softening and expanding from the hot gasses behind it, while the rifling in the barrel caused it to rotate.

The lead round flew upwards out of the barrel, and crossed the space between the muzzle of the rifle and Fleamont’s neck in less time than it took him to blink.

As the rest of the platoon was also cleaning and reloading their weapons, the sharp crack of Fleamont’s rifle discharging caught everybody’s attention, they looked over to see a large splash of red emerge from his neck.

The discharge from the rifle had caught him in the jugular vein and caused a large spray of blood backwards away from the barricade.

To the rest of the platoon, they could only watch as Fleamont slumped forward with blood spraying away the Californian embassy, leading to only one obvious conclusion.

“Open fire!” Ordered Sergeant Berringer.

Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 1312, Camp Springs Airport - July 24th, 1853 - 8:32 PM

Mikhail Ivchenko made his way to his seat, with a notepad in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

Having once been the Russian ambassador to the US, recent events had resulted in his reassignment to California, arguably a far more important post. Which is why, in spite of the Americans refusing to let anyone out, he was on the plane. That and the tickets were cheap.

As the towering hulk of a man sat in his seat next to the aisle, he found a familiar face in the window seat

“Karma my friend!” He shouted, pulling the Indian-Californian girl into a bear hug. “How are you this fine day?”

“Considering that no one has tried to kill me in the past month, I’m doing pretty fine.” Karma said. “Though you are crushing my ribs right now.” she added.

“Sorry about that.” Mikhail apologized, letting go of Karma.

“No hard feelings.” Karma replied.

“So, what insanity have you been up to since we last met?” Mikhail asked, curious as to what the Indo-Californian had been up to.

“Well, other than getting banned from Savannah, watching the Queen of England guffaw like a lunatic over Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and whatever the hell happened in Rio, and landing a lucrative deal, nothing much.” Karma replied. “I did get promoted though. I’m on the board of directors for my firm.”

“Congrats Karma!” Mikhail bellowed. “I’m sure you celebrated it in only a way you did, no?”

“Of course I did.” Karma boasted. “Didn’t remember a thing the very next day, so that should say something.” She added.

“It really does.” Mikhail replied, before catching the mention of the English Queen. “Wait, you said that Queen Victoria was laughing like a maniac?” Mikhail asked, somewhat incredulously.

“I got video proof.” Karma said, pulling out an iPhone. “It’s comedy gold.”

“I have to watch this.” Mikail said, as he shifted seats to be able to watch the video.

All of a sudden, a loud noise that sounded like the bastard child of a clang and a crunch reverberated through the plane, before the fuselage tore apart on impact.

Militia Encampment Outside of Camp Springs

While the Army group outside of the DC embassy had to contend with being forced to fight on the streets of Washington, where every building was a potential nest of sharpshooters, the encampment of Maryland Militia outside of Camp Springs had only open ground, which meant that there was nothing but long sightlines around, making it easy to spot any kind of enemy advance.

For weeks now the militia had been camped out surrounding the town, making sure that nobody had gone in or out by ground, which they hadn’t but the Militia had been camped outside the walls of the Camp Springs like it was Jericho. It had changed that morning though, as the walled city became a hive of activity as those flying machines started to go back and forth between Washington and their fortress.

For Sergeant Hans Eichel, he wasn’t sure what had changed until a messenger from the army had arrived at their camp. Fighting had broken out in the streets of DC outside their embassy, and the Californians were retreating to camp springs. With the possibility that the siege around the walled city would end soon, the commander of the militia had ordered them to begin firing their cannons on the fortified city, with the 6 pound field guns firing away.

The concrete T-Walls had proved more resistant to a direct bombardment from the 6 pounders than originally thought, preventing them from simply knocking down the walls and invading the city. As a result, the artillery brigade had been tasked with bombarding the city with canister shot.

The gunnery crews surrounding the city were wondering what the Californian’s response was going to be to the shelling, when bright lights seemed to flash in the city, the light being reflected off the cloud cover.

Eichel watched in horror as a massive explosion impacted one of the other artillery units, only for a second shell to impact moments later right next to it. The unending impacts seemed to be slowly but inevitably moving towards them. Each impacting and exploding shell was multiplying a destructive wind and it was only a matter of time before his gun crew would be next. But he couldn’t think about that, he had a job to do and it was to continue the bombardment of Camp Springs.

As the cannon fired off the round, and the gun rolled backwards, his crew was already at work reloading it.

First, Samuel Irving, number 3, would go and use a gimlet to clear the vent of any debris and placed his thumb over the vent.

Then, Aaron Chase, number 2, would go in and use the worm to remove the remnants of the last powder bag.

James Woodstreet, number 1, came next with a wet sponge to clear the barrel of any still burning embers, after which, Chase would return with a dry sponge to dry out the barrel.

Chase loaded a powder charge down the barrel, followed by the canister round, after which, Woodstreet rammed it down the barrel.

The gun was now ready to fire and the crew would roll it back into position for the next shot.

As the gunnery crew watched, one of those enormous flying machines began rolling towards the runway. Upon orders from Sergeant Eichel to target the airfield, the crew repositioned the cannon to point towards the airfield.

“Prepare!” Shouted Eichel.

At his words, Irving took his thumb off of the vent hole and used the gimlet to poke a hole in the powder charge. The number 4 man on the gun, Private Theodore Williamson, then handed Irving the friction primer and the lanyard, and Irving stuck it in the vent hole.

Over on the airfield, the large flying machine had begun to move towards them at a rapid clip, making enormous amounts of noise. If Eichel wanted to make a difference, it was now or never.

“Fire!” He shouted over the roar of the plane.

At his cue, Theodore Williams pulled on the lanyard, causing the friction primer to spark in the powder charge, igniting it. The pound and a half of black powder instantly turned into a large cloud of expanding gas, forcing the canister round out the end of the bore.

The canister round shot out of the barrel at just under 1000 miles per hour, followed by a smoky fireball and a thundering crack. As the round cleared the barrel, the sabot surrounding it failed to break open leaving the true payload, a large number of smaller metallic projectiles, stuck inside the canister as it sailed through the air towards the airfield, just at the aircraft was taking off.

In a stroke of luck, the sabot impacted the nose of the aircraft just beneath the cockpit windows. Upon impact, the canister broke open, and its payload of metal balls continued forward, carrying the momentum of the cannon shot and the momentum of the aircraft moving in the opposite direction.

Each of the metal balls shot forward, damaging the controls for the aircraft before bursting out of the instrument panel and impacting the pilots. While an armored soldier could have survived being hit with these projectiles, the pilots of the airplane had no such luck, both of them had the equivalent of multiple gunshot wounds to the check, neck and legs.

Both pilots were instantly killed.

The Boeing 777, now having the cockpit electronics severely damaged and in some cases short circuiting, leading to erratic control inputs–and with both pilots dead–began to nosedive back down towards the ground.

The airplane impacted the ground at 184 miles per hour, plowing into the ground with an enormous metallic crashing sound, and throwing up a wall of dirt around where the plane hit. Upon impact, the partially retracted nose gear shot upwards into the fuselage while the lower hold of the aircraft crumpled, leaving the cabin warped but mostly intact, the wing box, also damaged by the impact, buckled and twisted, rupturing the center fuel tank and turning that part of the airplane into a fireball, lighting up the night sky. The two GE90 engines broke free of the aircraft, still running at takeoff thrust, had enough residual thrust in them to propel themselves ahead of the aircraft.

The starboard engine, having sheared off of its mount, bounced and tumbled away from the wreck, throwing up sprays of dirt every time it hit the ground, as Sergeant Eichel watched its trajectory in horror.

“Run!” He ordered his men, but it was too late, the massive GE90 turbofan engine slammed into the ground in front of them. The engine and its casing broke apart instantly, the forward momentum in the debris carried it forward like a shotgun blast. The crew of the gun were killed instantly.

CNN Broadcast via Ursa-2 July 24th, 1853 - 8:30 PM

“... The situation at Camp Springs is tense, the Department of Foreign Affairs has recommended that until the crisis with the downtime United States to not fly to the Downtime United States. Due to the lack of downtime infrastructure we have no insight into the thinking of the Cass White House, or the Congress. After the shots fired at the embassy, Roseville dispatched additional planes to ferry people out of DC. The cramped terminal is even more packed than usual, and I estimate that in the terminal alone there are nearly 1000 people trying to get out.

“Stephanie, I can only imagine how scared some of the people are there, what’s the breakdown between asylum seekers and California citizens?” said Michael Martinez from the CNN studio in Los Angeles.

“It’s hard to tell Michael as due to the perimeter being closed. Emergency Food supplies are being handed out and it is hoped for many people here that more planes will be coming, although it’s not known when that will be… Michael I’ve just had word from our camera on the tower that the first plane is ready to fly.”

From the tower view, a 777 could be seen taxiing to the end of the runway. Air Traffic Control broadcast continues. “Tower, this is PSA 1312, requesting clearance for takeoff.”

“PSA 1312 Heavy, you are cleared for takeoff,” the tower controller replied. “Once airborne, switch to departures frequency 121.5.”

“Ground, CalAir 833 requesting permission for push back.”

”CalAir 833, standby. A Virgin A380 is taxing behind you,” a ground controller replied.

“Acknowledged.” replied CalAir 833.

“PSA 1312 is now on the roll,” said PSA 1312, as it began to pick up speed going down the runway, the camera following it as it approached the end of the runway and began to pull off the ground, a large crack and flash could be heard from a nearby knoll. Live on TV across the Golden State, the catastrophe played out on TV screens. The scene of ambulances and APCs converging on the crash site, the muzzle flashes from California Marines as they went after the cannon crew. The clouds above Camp Springs flashed again as the artillery units stationed in the city began another creeping artillery barrage.

Presidential Address July 24th, 1853 - 10:30 PM

“My Fellow Californians, since the Event we have endured much. The collapse of the global supply chain and rebuilding of our manufacturing centers, the shock and trauma of losing our loved ones outside of the state during the Event, illusions about the past shattered as the what would have been history is changed, to the rising tensions between a nation that we were at one point a part of. The victims of Flight 1312 were teachers, asylum seekers, businessmen, engineers, government officials… fathers, mothers, sons and daughters. In the blink of an eye these lives were ended by the armed forces of the United States, a surreal phrase I myself never thought I would have to say. These actions were intended to scare us, test our resolve, make us bend the knee to President Cass and DC, believing that their only way of stopping the clock is through fear and violence. We were attacked because through being a beacon of hope and progress for the world they are scared. They are scared because of what they wish to deny… Since the event, what to Californians is history is to the rest of the world, tales of what is yet to come. They fear what is now ‘lost history’ to repeat again, and are desperate to test our nation’s ideals and resolve. The events of tonight show that what we once knew as history will change.

In the aftermath of the attack I asked the British, Mexican and French Ambassador to my office. They have assured me that their nations recognize the Republic of California as independent from the United States. After that meeting I met with Senate and Assembly leaders, and finally I met with Joint Chiefs. There is no doubt as there initially was with 9/11 as to who shot down Flight 1312. Our new nation will show to President Cass and his supporters that the resolve of California will not let this act of war go unanswered. Thank you, and God Bless California”

Harper’s Ferry, Virginia July 29th - 2:00 AM

The town was woken up when the armory at Harper’s Ferry exploded in an immense fireball utterly destroying the armory. What went unseen was the HALO drop Special Forces teams dropped in the surrounding area. Similar flights and bombing runs occured in Maryland and around DC.

———

Korean Segment courtesy of okmangeez

Co-written with Rise Comics, Firebringer2077 and with input from omega13a
 
And the Russians are probably about to declare war on the US as well.

Couldn't really be a bigger disaster for Cass.
 
7kVh72V.jpg

Chehalis
Yakama
Ni Mii Puu
Spokane
Coeur d’Alene
Flathead
Apsáalooke
Grand Ronde
North Paiute
Shoshone-Bannock
Arapaho
Newe
Bonneville Salt Flats
Goshute
Deseret (WATO Non-member)
Ute
South Paiute
Pueblos
Havasupai
Hualapai
Chemehueve
Yavapai
Hopi
Navajo
Yavapaiv Apache
Hohokam
White Mountain Apache
Cocopah
Maricopa/Pima
Quechan
Zuni
North Tonto
South Tonto
Riro
East Keres
West Keres
North Tiwa
South Tiwa
Tewa
Chiricuaha

Under the terms of the Alcatraz Accords, all members of WATO signatory nations may travel freely into other signatory nations to live, work, hunt or fish, without delay or restriction.

These are not hard borders except around the Williamette Valley and Deseret, as well as a hard border with the United States.

Mexico and British North America is also a soft border with WATO.
 
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