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Offline Little

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Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« on: July 06, 2008, 04:28:34 pm »
Criticism, comments, and pointing out of my errors would be appreciated. I would like an artist, someone who would be able to draw a map of the beginning situation, and of the end situation. PM me for details.


I should probably start this from the beginning. My name is Tyler Richards, and I run a book shop in Vancouver. I come from Canada (what Canada? Ha ha). I like to write, and to read. I took over the book store’s operations last year, when I was twenty-one. My uncle ran the book store before then. We sell government certified books. We also are a part of a smuggling operation that smuggles weapons, explosives and dope. We haven’t been caught yet, but I have a good exit plan.
 
My uncle was hooked up with the smuggling operation six years ago. It was run by one of my old classmates, Santiago. We had kept in touch. He lived in Mexico. Eight years ago, he was an exchange student. Mexico is an independent country, after the revolution of 2012. America took over Mexico in 2001 and Canada in 2003. Mexico fought its way to freedom, but we haven’t yet.
 
The United States had begun a decline into a police state, starting in the 1980s. The USSR, on the verge of collapse, paired with the economic power that was the rapidly expanding Communist China. The dying USSR gained new strength, and the US began to get paranoid. First, American citizens lost the right to have untapped phone conversations, then right to a lawyer, and then the right to a free trial. The government did this subtly, over about three year’s time, with a blizzard of new bills hidden in the usual crap.
 
The new America withdrew from NATO and began a harsh crackdown on complaints and free speech. You can have a visit in the middle of the night, be executed in your home, and have your friends and family interrogated easily now. It’s a constant nightmare of mine. I don’t have any children or a wife, but being killed along with my Uncle Rick would be bad enough. Quite frankly, anyone with opposing views was screwed.

The Warsaw Pact disbanded, with Poland and the Czech Republic declaring independence for the Soviets and joining the EU, while Hungary, Romania, and Bulgaria were absorbed into the Soviet bloc. Japan is still free, as China won’t invade them. I’ve heard some pretty convincing rumours that Japan is very well armed. Australia has non-aggression pacts with both sides, and is used as a stop for journalists, spies, and the like who need a safe place to hide.
 
The Russians are attacking Europe, which became the European Union in 1992. All the countries in it are still independent, but they co-ordinate on issues involving international trade and warfare. More often then not, it’s probably the latter. The EU is in full-blown war with the USSR. Poland and Finland have fallen to Russian advances, with most of the front line being a mass of barbwire, mines, and trenches. It’s like a modern World War 1, except instead of mustard gas, it’s AIDS in a air spray and instead of mortars and biplanes, it’s high-precision infrared guided shells fired from artillery behind three miles of trenches. A few contacts of mine are in the trenches, and they say it’s a hell of trench collapses, rats and illness.
 
Books are mostly banned and burned. Anything with even remotely controversial content or ‘revolutionary’ content is banned. I sell a lot of children’s books. I also run an illegal book store (which sells any books besides children’s books and government approved books). The government has written several instruction manuals on how to be a good citizen and how to report a traitor to this wonderful nation (Just dial 1800-456-7890 and they will be jailed, my ass). This makes the business I run a little more risky, as I have to watch for government spies that come in and ask for an ‘illegal’ book.
As this story starts, I’m just tending shop…

___

I yawned as I looked over the day’s newspaper. More crap about the ‘foolishness and idiocy’ of the Communist forces that battled against the EU, a few job offers for low level factory shifts, the usual REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS ACTIVTIES TO 1-800-456-7890 and today’s honoured citizen, who betrayed his entire family(who were potheads) and submitted their names to the police. I slapped the paper down on the table in disgust as I saw another large headline on the second page. It was ‘Communists recruiting terrorists in America!’ I read through the article. It basically said anyone can be a terrorist and report anyone to 1-800-456-7890 if their acting weird. Hell, according to them, most of my close friends are terrorists.

I dropped the paper down on the counter and stifled a laugh as a young woman bouncing a child on her shoulder walked in. She roamed through the store, picked out ‘How to Raise a Pro-America Child’ and walked over to the counter holding her purchase. I smiled nervously as she handed over a twenty and said, “Did you read the paper today? They had a good article on terrorists at home. That’s awful that fellow Americans can betray other loyal citizens, huh?”

I nodded as I fished out her change from the register, voicing my agreement. She took her change and left the shop, clutching her book in one hand and gently holding her baby with the other.

I walked out from behind the counter, flipped the sign that said ‘Come in, we’re open!’ to ‘Sorry, we’re closed!’ I grinned as I went through the door behind the counter, pass the rows of extra legal books, and then went through a plain wooden door. I quickly went down the wooden stairs concealed behind the door, and turned the corner.
I smiled at the three revolutionaries sitting on stools in my basement, sitting in front of the four large bookshelves that contained all my illegal books. They were about as old as I am.

 The one sitting closest to me was named David Harrow. He had blond hair, blue eyes, was tall, and skinny as a stick. He dropped out of high school in Grade 11, and devoted himself to toppling the government ever since. I was a good friend with David. He was in my Grade 11 class. The one sitting next to him was called Alexander Burnett. Everyone just calls him Burn. I’ve known him since Grade 9. He had a degree in Engineering, and was an amateur construction foreman. He also had a brief career in demolition with explosives. He cleared out a lot of old down-town buildings. The one sitting furthest from me was known by Pull, but his real name was Curtis Pullman. He was a quiet guy. I met him last year. He was a solider in the war against drugs. He deserted three years ago, but Pull is still good with a gun.

Dave was holding a burlap sack with something clunking around in it. The objects sounded heavy. I smiled and said, “Hey.” as I walked by him. I grabbed George Orwell’s 1984 off a small pile of books and left my basement, holding the book tightly as I strolled up the stairs. Once I got to the top, I yelled, “I’m leaving, guys! Locking the door behind me!” I crammed the book in my backpack, shrugged it over my shoulders and went outside. It was raining slightly, so my backpack got slightly wet. The book was fine, as the pack was slightly waterproof, but I still quickly hailed a taxi and went home.

___

David grinned as he opened the sack and tipped it upside down. Two large white blocks fell out of it. Burn stared at the blocks and muttered quietly, “Is that CDE?” Pull nodded slowly, not speaking, but staring at the blocks in amazement. David smiled, “Don’t ask where I got ‘em from, but Burn, do you think you can still apply for that podium construction job, the one for our beloved mayor, Patrick Ferreria?”    Burn nodded gleefully. Pull just smiles and says, “I’ve reserved the hotel room two weeks in advance. I have a clear line of sight. Meeting adjourned? If we succeed in killing the bastard, we’ll recruit a few more members.”
____

Two weeks later...

I smiled nervously as I scanned the crowd. Where the hell were David and the others? It was raining, but I didn’t think they’d ditch because of that. A week ago, David told me to come to the Mayor’s speech, telling me there will be a nice surprise, and he doesn’t even bother showing up.
I looked at my watch, to discover its 12:06. Where the hell was the Mayor, anyway? He should’ve started talking six minutes ago. I turned around as I hear a car, no, not a car but a limo sliding across the wet pavement. There were a good fifty people around me, and they all started to cheer as the Mayor stepped out of his limo. I started cheering, too. The Mayor was a thin man, with dark hair and darker eyes. He ran this city brutally, with major help from the Anti-Terrorist Police and the string of bloodsucking lawyers that seemed to constantly be giving him advice. As the frantic yells of support and praise petered out, the Mayor yelled, “SORRY I’M LATE! LUNCH WAS DELAYED!”

That was the last thing I heard before a loud shock wave threw me to the ground. A bristling wave of heat washed over me. My ears were ringing, but they weren’t ringing loud enough for me not to hear another bang. It was the sound of a gunshot. I heard a faint scream of pain, then a series of hard, loud clacking noises. I began to stagger to me feet, weaving drunkenly through the crowd. The clacking noise turned out to be automatic fire, fired from a man in a black suit standing near the limo. He seemed to be firing into a hotel across the street from the limo. I began to run, as did half the crowd with me. Nobody tried to stop us, but I wondered where the little group of terrorists that met bi-weekly in my basement where…

I found out three days later, in the airport. I was sitting down, waiting for my flight to arrive, when I spotted the day’s newspaper headline: TERRORISTS BEHIND MAYOR BOMBING CAUGHT! I was so intrigued to see if David, Burn, and Pull were still alive, I bought a copy. I was pretty sure it was them, because whatever rattled around in that bag wasn’t marbles. I read the article and frowned, saddened by their pictures. Burn had gotten a job as the podium the Mayor was going to make his speech on. Burn planted the explosives under the podium, timed for when the Mayor had just started getting into his speech and past praising the government. Unfortunately, the Mayor was late. Pull, who was in a hotel room across the street, shot the fleeing Mayor in the foot. A bodyguard had thrown threw the screaming Mayor into the limo and open fired on Pull. The room he had fired from was supposedly riddled with shots. David and Burn were arrested the day after, evidence in Pull’s apartment tying them to Curtis Pullman. They were supposedly executed yelling, “You’ll never catch us all!” Knowing them, it was probably, “We have rights, goddamn it!”

Problem is, now that David had been caught (and probably tortured), he could tell them about me, and I don’t want to die. Santy (my friend down in Mexico) told me he’d use his contacts. I bought a flight ticket down to Mexico. Santy told me he’d use a few friends he has in the real estate business to set me up with a small house for a cheap hundred grand. I thanked him profusely over the phone.
The flight was uneventful. The papers back home did eventually call the public to hunt me down as a mastermind behind the ‘devastating terror attack’ but I’m in Mexico now. They can’t touch me down here. I’ll go back to America (Canada?) once the government’s thrown out.
I live nicely on my savings, reading my books. I do wonder if the Communists will take over Europe. At least I’ll be safe….


BREAKING NEWS!
BERLIN HIT WITH NUCLEAR MISSILE!
[/u] [/b]

September 24, 2017- The Russians finally did it. They may have started the Final War. At 7:46 PM today, the German city (a crucial fortified position of the European Union) was hit with a twenty-four megaton nuclear missile. London, Paris, and other major European cities have gone into lockdown, with the Fallout Vault experiment being put online mere moments after the initial reports came in. Dear readers, seek shelter if you live in a potential target or fallout zone. Negotiations with the Commie bastards have begun, but what happens if the talks are a smokescreen? Russian troops have begun a strong push forward into the Union, while Iran has surrendered to Communist Chinese forces. I’d bet my job it was out of fear. The United States have released a statement claiming any attack on them will result in immediate devastation for the offending country. The United South American Coalition has expelled all Communist diplomats, and several riots have broken out in front of the embassies of Russia and China in various countries. The countries of USAC have also issued embargoes against Russia and China, and claim any more dramatic mistakes like this will result in USAC joining the war on the EU side. EU troops have fortified the cities Magdeburg, Leipzig, and Dresden as a final fallback point for East Germany. The Czech Republic has begun a last attempt to drive out the invading Russians by deploying the FIELDS project, resulting in devastation of Russian forces in the Czech Republic. Poland and Austria have fallen, supposedly with a spike in civilian casualties as an attempted revolution against the new Communist puppet government, with brutal crackdown by stationed enemy infantry forces.

Our own reporter, Benjamin Sheridan, is covering this attempted rush for freedom and the clamp of the Communist menace on these countries. Expect a few articles on happenings in Poland next week. Berlin itself is devastated, with roughly 1.5 million casualties. Our sympathies are expressed to any and all of our surviving readers in this devastated city, and we’d like to inform you that the International Red Cross is coming to your aid within the next 24 hours.

We here at Modern Times would like to tell Mr. Bykov he made a terrible mistake in ordering the strike and should go boil his head in molten iron.

What Inspired This Move on Pg.3….
« Last Edit: July 16, 2008, 05:45:48 pm by Little »


The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.

Offline Kcronos

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #1 on: July 06, 2008, 04:37:59 pm »
If you saw a nuke go off, wouldn't you be blind?  Bright flash and all...
* Plank of Wood slaps


GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF MAN. THE REVIEWS DO NOT EFFECT ANYTHING EVER.

QFT

Offline Little

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #2 on: July 06, 2008, 04:43:01 pm »
Not if your not looking directly at it.
The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.

Offline Yokto

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #3 on: July 06, 2008, 04:51:48 pm »
Form how far i have read it is good. I will try to read it more in to detail and try and give you some constructive comments.
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Offline martyk

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #4 on: July 06, 2008, 07:33:55 pm »
Ooh, very cool.  Nothing says fun like dystopian governments and nuclear explosions.
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Offline Yokto

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #5 on: July 07, 2008, 04:45:20 pm »
Yeah. Cool. But i have said it before >_>

Will be fun to discuss about it with you Little on IRC later :D
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Offline Andrew Ryan

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #6 on: July 07, 2008, 04:52:34 pm »
Little, is this intended to be part of a novel or is it simply another role playing short story? Either way it was very good.
"Don't worry 'bout me. I wouldn't worry about me. Don't you worry about me. Don't you worry 'bout me!" - Talking Heads, Don't Worry About the Government

Offline Yokto

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #7 on: July 07, 2008, 05:14:52 pm »
Just a story form what a gather.
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Offline Little

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #8 on: July 07, 2008, 07:26:59 pm »
Just a short story for when I have extra time on my hands. I'm not quite done yet, but I should be by the end of the summer, and that's with me being very lazy. I'm also looking for someone able to draw a map of what the beginning scenario would look like, as well as the end scenario.

I've now cleaved it into two parts to avoid the 20000 character limit.

Here's the rest:


I gripped the wheel, my knuckles bone white. I mean, holy ****, what just happened? Did I just see a mushroom cloud? I twisted the wheel to the right, my headlights illuminating the dark ground in front of me. The tires of our ****ty little van tottered on the edge of a trench, and then found firm ground again, and we sped on through the night.

____

My name is Michael. I’m the guitarist for a fairly popular rock band, named Shades of Grey. Maybe you’ve heard of us?  My friends Jerry, Jamie, and Bryan were in the band with me. Bryan plays the drums, Jamie the base, and Jerry the vocals. We dropped out of high school to start this band (originally going by the name Grey Shadows). Our parents were not happy, with us ‘throwing away our futures’. Well, we started off pretty badly, with Bryan getting kicked out by his parents for ‘doing something that stupid’. He lived in Jamie’s basement for a while. Then, we pitched in and rented an apartment together, all four of us cramming into a one bedroom place (I slept on the couch, and Jamie and Jerry on the floor).

We had two (minor) hits, which allowed us to stay alive, and we had some pretty good times on tours of Europe. We were drafted by Slate Metal Records, a fairly small indie label. We know quite a few of the people there, and we are pretty good friends with the management.

The second year out of high school, after a small tour, I had written what I considered to be a goddamn great song. It was called Nuclear Bang. Funny thing is, that’s exactly what we’re trying to get away from, I think. It turned into an underground hit on our third album, Grey Shadows. That managed to bring in a good chunk of income. Then, we get contacted by one of those big, soul-sucking record labels. They offer us a million Euros up front if we join up. We decline, but they give us a quarter of the cash as an ‘incentive’. We still decline.

As of now, we are (were?) still stuck with Slate Metal Records. We were on a very interesting tour (almost got bombed by the French, as they mistook our new stage equipment for experimental military equipment, the stupid bastards) which was supposed to end in Poland. Let me tell you, that gig was cancelled quickly when the war started to shift from trenched-deadlock to a blitzkrieg for the Communists. Our final tour date was now scheduled to end in Berlin, which didn’t end well…

____

I heard the disturbingly familiar sound of retching and looked beside me. Jamie seemed fine, although pale as hell. No vomit splashed all over him, but he muttered, “Goddamn it, Jerry.”

I looked into the back of the van. Sitting on the crates that held the equipment was Bryan, the German Guy, and Jerry. Jerry had vomit puddle around his shoes, and some of the vomit was sloshing around on the floor. The German Guy looked disgusted. Bryan was clutching his baggie of weed to his chest, looking at Jerry with contempt. The two had been bickering since the second album. Jerry just looked sad, with his long, black hair tangling down in front of his face. It almost reached his eyes. The German Guy was the guy we picked up near Berlin as we were fleeing. You know, once you realize that the Communists are coming, you get the hell out. We got lucky, as we left before the nuke hit. We saw the German Guy a few miles outta the city. Poor bastard was riding a bicycle like the devil was after him, which in his opinion, the devil probably was. He had the rifle slung over his back. We pulled up ahead of him, he jumped off the bike and ditched in, climbing into the van. The German Guy had begun speaking a babble of German, but none of us spoke it worth ****, except for Jerry’s large repertoire of swears. Bryan had pointed the large handgun we had bought for self defence at him for a while. The German Guy seemed more amused by this than scared, as Bryan’s arm was obviously unsteady and Bryan got bored after a while and put it down.

I felt a large bump, and felt the van’s wheels going spinning off the earth. I yelled, “****! Pothole!” and shifted my wide-eyed gaze back to the crude path our van was travelling. Ah, ****, the path abruptly ended a very, very short distance ahead in the form of a snaking, narrow trench. I jammed my foot down on the brake pedal and screamed, “WE ARE FALLING INTO A GODDAMN TRENCH!”

The windshield was suddenly filled with a nice view of brown, muddy dirt. I had a sudden feeling I was going to die. I saw Jerry’s puke roll d own the aisle in-between the passenger seat and driver’s seat. I closed my eyes as the van impacted the cold, hard ground. My seatbelt tightened across my shoulders and I heard Bryan yell, “****!”. I heard a crunch as the girdle of the van slammed into the bottom of the trench.

I opened my eyes. There was a large hole in the windshield, and I saw Jamie lying beside the hood of the car. He was crying. His leg was bent at a funny angle. I sighed, undid my seatbelt while gripping my seat. I opened my door as far as it could go, and then hopped out. I yelled, “Bryan! Jerry! German Guy! You guys good?”

I heard the van’s back door open, and I saw the German Guy climb out, rifle slung across his shoulders. He yelled something in German, and waved as if to say, ‘Good-bye’. I guess that gets across cultures and language barriers well. I heard Jerry yell, “Bryan broke his goddamn arm against the seat! I’m okay!” I hear Bryan yell, “Your always okay, you son of a bitch!”

Jerry responds with, “**** you then, I’m not bothering getting you out of here!” I sighed. A moment later, I could see Jerry climbing out of the van, swearing and panting. Made me wonder how the German Guy did it so fast. I yelled at Jerry, “Get your ass back in there and get Bryan while I get Jamie!”
He simply said, “No. I’ll wait for you and Jamie, but screw him.” I swore and began to crawl under the shattered windshield, being careful to avoid as much glass as possible. It still hurt like a bitch. I lightly grabbed Jamie’s arm. It was shaking with his sobs. I sighed and went on my hands and knees, and tried to figure out how to lift him onto my back without hurting his leg. I lifted him onto my back, with his legs dangling off my side. ****. He was heavy. I mean, I’m skinny, but Jamie was also skinny, but he weighed more than I did. I walked across the glass, it crunching under my shoes. I got out from under the car and stood up, Jamie still clinging on. I sighed and said, “Jerry! Help get me up over the side!” I gingerly took Jamie off my back, and put him carefully in Jerry’s outstretched hands. Jerry easily lifted him up. Jerry’s a big guy, pretty strong. He has a shaved head, with little brown hairs sticking up. Jerry hoisted Jamie up from the trench. I hoisted myself up out of the trench with my hands, using my shoes to dig into the side of the trench. Jerry put Jamie down and hauled me over the side. I could hear Bryan crying and saying, “Guys? Guys!? Come and get me, damnit! My shoulder hurts!”

I swore at Jerry, and then went back into the van. Bryan was really skinny, like a hundred-twenty pounds for being six feet tall. I lifted him up, and slowly made my way out of the van, being careful not to drop Bryan. I hopped down onto the ground and sighed. Jerry had Jamie, I had Bryan. We knew we had to head west. I said, “Let’s go.” And we began to walk….

BREAKING NEWS!
WORLD PLUNGES INTO FINAL WAR!

September 25, 2017- The world went to hell today, starting with the collapse of the shaky Middle-Eastern Alliance. Palestine, perhaps concerned by the nuking of Berlin, invaded Israel in the early morning. Israel responded by launching a devastating nuclear counter-attack. The Chinese held states of Iran and Iraq panicked, and in a desperate revolution, retook their military facilities. By this time, Palestine has retaliated with a few nukes of its own. Iran launched two simultaneous attacks, one attack on China and one attack on Israel.  Approximately twenty to thirty nukes have been fired at this time, which was about the time the staff of Modern Times was alerted. The attacks on China (surprisingly) succeeded, with Beijing and the surrounding area annihilated. The EU decided to retaliate for the nuking of Berlin yesterday, and launched a nuclear assault from land-based silos and nuclear submarines. Leningrad and Moscow were destroyed, as well as almost every other Russian city within a thousand miles of the border. Poland and Austria declared their independence while London, Paris, Manchester, and dozens of other EU cities were annihilated by a Russian counter attack.

Around four-thousand nukes have been fired by this time, most of them fired by the USSR. This was around the time the Modern Time’s staff had been flown to Australia for a steep cash payment. Deserting Red China forces fled into India and Pakistan, which (ironically) had not destroyed each other. South Korea surrendered to a swift, badly constructed invasion launched by North Korea, as North Korea had no reason to fear EU reprisals. This was around the time the tattered countries in the Middle East began to fire what they had left at each other, mostly chemical weapons.

North America has no comment, as usual. Our own Ben Sheridan arrived (admittedly shaken) with us in Australia this afternoon with the advice for anyone reading this, “GET UNDER COVER!”

We here at modern Times recommend you follow his advice, and we hope you enjoyed our 1247 issues, spanning three years.

Thanks for reading.

-Editor in Chief, Jeff Wheeler
-News Finder/Tech Support, Marcus Green
-In Field Reporting/Writer, Benjamin Sheridan
-Writer/Illustrator, Nicole Matthews


The following is a series of video-clips, titled ‘Man on the Road’. It is a man-on-the-street interview, taken by reporter Benjamin Sheridan, Michael Down (guitarist for the popular band, ‘Shades of Grey), a Russian deserter known only as Vlad(this seems to be a nickname), Jack Young(the runner of the successful security firm Watch)  and a engineer named Henry Johnson. Originally hosted on the site, www.thedayaftertheend.com, the clips have received attention from the media and popular culture as the dramatic background, the man-on-the-street style of the interviews, and the obvious feel that it imbues itself with, here it is, for your viewing pleasure.
WARNING: MAY CONTAIN THEMES SOME PARENTS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE. PARENTAL GUIDANCE STRONGLY ADVISED.

The frame of view shows a battered landscape of hills, coated with dying grass. Three mushroom clouds have risen in the background, and are slowly wilting back to Earth. A man wearing a ragged brown coat is standing in the frame. A pistol grip is sticking out of the breast pocket. Long curls of black hair reach down to his goatee, giving him a look that resembles a man down on his luck and on the way out. Tattered jeans reveal a large cut on his knee, caked with dry blood. He smiles and waves at the camera, hand’s glad in leather gloves.

“Hi, to anyone who cares? My name is Henry-“

The man cuts himself off in mid sentence, and looks behind himself at the three massive mushroom clouds. The wind blows his hair against him, causing his forest of hair to wave wildly.

“Mr. Sheridan? Are you sure this **** is safe?”

A voice replies from off-camera: “Yes, I’m sure. The wind’s blowing the other way. We have six hours before the radiation hits this place and we’ll be out of here by then.”

Henry sighs and turns back, facing the camera. He grins, showing the camera his missing a few teeth.


“My name is Henry Johnson. I worked as an engineer in London, and evacuated it four weeks ago. I was a long-standing alcoholic, and had almost no money. I’ve just been wandering through Europe, begging food off of people. I’m thirty-four, have no kids, a divorced wife, and lived in a ****ty one room apartment. I met you guys today, and now I’m giving an interview.”

“What would you say the defining moments of your life were?”

“Drinking my first beer behind the shed, getting arrested for public drinking for the first time, banging my wife-“

Laughter is heard from off camera. The voice is heard whispering (while chuckling), “Michael! Jack! Quiet!”

Henry laughs, “Yeah. Being in Paris when it was being evacuated was one of them. I looked at the Eiffel Tower with a mob of panicking workers fleeing among gridlocked cars attempting to leave, and it just seemed so…real.”

“What do you think of the nuking of Berlin and the nuclear war?”

“Its bad ****, mate. Bad **** for sure. Anyone even near a mushroom cloud should get undercover.”

Henry laughs at the futility of his statement, as the voice is heard one more time: “Any last comments for viewers?”

Henry grins, “Oil prices suck, and their only going to get higher!”

Laughter is heard from off camera as the screen fades to black.

___

The screen shows a tanned white male, wearing a leather jacket and brown pants. A large handgun is jammed into the pant’s pocket. The man is wearing thin, wire glasses that seem to illuminate the brown eyes that lurk behind the lenses. A thick mop of brown hair covers his head, reaching down to his eyebrows. Another two men are standing beside him. One is pale, with stubble of a beard reaching his ink-black bangs. His blue eyes are frosty as he smiles widely, white hooded sweater and khaki pants clashing. One of his arms is draped around the tanned male, the other draped around a smiling black man.

A voice says from off camera, thick with a Russian accent, “So, we do the biographies and boring life stories left to right?”

The tanned man laughs, “My name is Benjamin Sheridan, and their only boring to you, Vlad. We’ll keep this short, okay? I’m a, or should it be was? Anyways, I’m a reporter for Modern Times.  I got my interest in writing and reporting at the age of fourteen, same year we ditched Canada. Well, here I am. I’m twenty-four, and I love my job.”

The pale man smiles sadly, “I’m next. My name’s Michael Down. I’m the lone surviving member of the band, Shades of Grey. Jerry died because some German troop shot him, and Jamie died in a medical camp. Bryan killed himself, I think.”

He sighs loudly, “****.”

The black man says loudly, “Moving on from that! My name’s Jack Young. I ran a successful security firm based in London, called Watch. I started it with my friend Andrew Jackson, when we were fourteen. We got paid twenty bucks by Mr.Foghart for guarding his barn against foxes. We expanded, to say the least. At our peak we employed over two-hundred guards and forty engineers to keep the cameras we installed in perfect performance. I’m proud of what I’ve done. We protected Field Labs and some EU projects for a while.”

Ben says, “Well, I think that about covers it. We’ve done two interviews. Let’s get to Spain. Spain wasn’t hit, due to the FIELDS project, so that’s the destination for now. Henry, please get out the map, and let’s figure out where the hell we are, and how to avoid a painful, irradiated death.

A voice says from off-camera, recognizable from the first interview as Henry Johnson, “Yeah, I got the map.” as the screen turns black.



I smiled at the solider sitting in my living room. He spoke fractured English and Spanish, but I could understand him well enough. His name is Juan, and he’s from Brazil. He’s been in the Continent United Task Force for three years. He has a wife and two kids back home, and his job in the CUTF brings in good money. The CUTF is moving up through Mexico. The first thousand troops reached the border yesterday. Tensions are pretty high, I’d guess. There was a riot in LA yesterday, involving about ten thousand unemployed people who peacefully started protesting about taxes and eight-dollar a litre gas, which was strangling their lifestyle since they couldn’t afford compressed-air cars. It started peacefully enough, and then when the Anti-Terrorist Police as well as a nice chunk of United States Peacekeepers showed up, well that’s when bad stuff began to happen. Somebody had yelled, “It’s the ****ing pigs! Charge the bastards!” and then about ten thousand people charged. The Peacekeepers and AT-Police open fired. It didn’t deter the mob much. They surrounded the oppressors and beat four of them to death before fleeing. The people of the United Sates knows nothing about the events of the last three days. The government managed to cover up a goddamn nuclear war.

I suppose anyone reading this deserves an update: Most of Europe is burning and irradiated, with the exception of Spain. Most of Russia is burning and irradiated, and a fair bit of China is burning and irradiated. The Middle East is gone, with the Saudi Arabian oil fields lighting on fire this morning. The Communists are still advancing into Europe, although in tattered groups instead of a fearsome army. Spain has plenty of troops (over a hundred thousand) to protect itself with, so Spain will survive as long as the Russians don’t damage the FIELDS project.

USAC has allied itself with the European Union, and the EU has given them the shielding the FIELDS project provides. That means the United States can’t blow them (and Mexico) to ash. USAC has sent several hundred thousand troops north to the USA-Mexico border. The first troops (in the CUTF) arrived there this morning. USAC is planning a full invasion of the United States, with the intent of overthrowing the government there and installing a democracy.

Juan says he has to go join up with his squad now. I wish him luck. He smiles and waves as he walks out the door. I’m safe down here in my little house in Mexico, but I hope the US doesn’t retaliate, because the FIELDS project can only stop so many nukes…

This will be my last document. I’m sure everything will turn out fine, and you’ll hear about it from someone else. Thanks for reading.   –Tyler Richards
« Last Edit: July 28, 2008, 03:36:24 pm by Little »
The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.

Offline Little

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #9 on: July 17, 2008, 02:43:04 pm »
Sorry about the double post.

I'm not quite done yet, but I should be by the end of the summer, and that's with me being very lazy. I'm also looking for someone able to draw a map of what the beginning scenario would look like, as well as the end scenario.

I've now cleaved it into two parts to avoid the 20000 character limit.
The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.

Offline PatMan33

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #10 on: July 17, 2008, 02:45:23 pm »
Hey, I love doing that! Seriously, someone should do something about that pesky character limit...

Offline Little

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #11 on: July 17, 2008, 03:42:29 pm »
Your interested in doing the maps?  ???  :)
« Last Edit: July 17, 2008, 06:13:52 pm by Little »
The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.

Offline Yokto

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #12 on: July 17, 2008, 06:11:18 pm »
Hey, I love doing that! Seriously, someone should do something about that pesky character limit...
Well a counter would be good. I know i have many times had a problem with the limit. Especially when i am posting a story.
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Offline Little

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Re: Alternate History: 1987 (A Little Story)
« Reply #13 on: July 28, 2008, 03:38:03 pm »
Updated once again!  ;D
The best person ever.  She should have won the Peace Prize.

What? No full control over children? You do realize that some of us have particular plans for those children.