Pax America: Robert's Story

[Centauri18]

Room 227, American History 1
New Washington Junior High
New Washington, Brazil, United States of America
May 16, 2003
I heard Mr. Grant sigh deeply. "Good luck, kids. I just hope, for the world's sake, that your generation doesn't make the same mistakes as mine."
The bell rang, and we all headed out. Well, most of us at least.
I'd lost family members during 9-11, like a lot of kids. About half of the class of thirty stayed behind to talk with Mr. Grant.
I decided not to.
My name, by the way, is Robert Ulrich. My friends call me Robbie.
My dad was an officer in the Viking military, now an officer in the U.S. Army. Mom is from Ireland, which recently joined the Union as the seventy-fifth state.
I live in New Washington. Lincoln named it that after the Spaniards who originally built the settlement were wiped out with the death of Queen Isabella. I don't remember the Spanish name of the town - the name is actually from an old Spanish dialect called Portuguese - but I remember that the American translation is "River of January."
Whatever that means.
Next period was lunch, then Computer Sciences. After that was math and then school was over for the weekend. Next week was finals.
I probably wouldn't need to do much studying. CompSci wasn't a hard class, I knew all the formulas and such that I'd need for my Algebra final. English - a breeze. History - a real breeze. Chemistry - a little harder, but I knew the chemical formulas we'd covered that year. P.E. didn't have a final, so I had everything pretty much covered.
I read somewhere that the secret of getting ready for a big test is being relaxed and not thinking about it for a couple days. Well, the weekend was certainly good for that.
"Hey, Robbie, wait up!"
That would be Theodore "Tad" Wilson, my best friend. He isn't the best student in the world, so I'd have to help him out getting ready for finals. As usual.
"You have to stay after class again?"
"No. I notice you didn't."
"I went through the whole thing. I went to the funerals. Mom and Dad were a lot of help."
"Oh, yeah. I can just understand why the memory would be kinda fresh and all."
We reached the cafeteria. I palmed the panel by the door, and the door opened. Tad did the same and we both went in.
The pad recognized both of us and told the cafeteria chefs that we were there. Students are given lunches according to their individual dietary needs, which were updated from time to time by the school physician. That's the way it's done all over the country, but it started here in N.W.
Lunch that day was chicken, rice, and potatoes. Vitamins were deposited on the side of the tray, personalized for each student.
The American government takes care of the schools and health plans - among other things - which may be why Americans live longer than any other people in the world, even the Iroquois.
"So do we have band practice after school today?"
"Just drummers," I said. I grinned. "Like me."
"Sure. You get the cushiest job in the band. Hitting stuff."
"We're the most important people in the band. We keep time for everybody else."
Tad nodded. "Okay, okay."
"And it's just for an hour. Mr. Van Owen wants to make sure we've got it down before the parade next week."
"I know. 'We Love the President Day.' Geez, man, it gets old after the first ten thousand times."
"We haven't been alive that long. And it's only once a year besides."
"I know that, I'm exaggerating." We found a table and sat down. "But it feels like it. It gets old, that's all I'm saying."
"Even the fireworks?"
Tad paused. "Well, maybe not the fireworks. I still like those. And the bands playing in the town square, just outside the Second White House, are pretty cool. Who do you think they'll get this year?"
"Who knows? Probably a local band or something. Nothing wrong with that."
"Yeah. So have you got any plans for this weekend?"
"Nothing but the Festival, so far. And, of course, the dance."
"I finally talked to Spring River. Someone asked her to the last dance, but I'm gonna ask her to this one."
"Spring River... Oh, yeah, that Iroquois exchange student. You mentioned her in class once."
He laughed. "Are you that into school? Don't tell me it's your parents and their love of American education."
I shrugged. "I like learning stuff."

After we ate, we went our separate ways.
After lunch was Math, then P.E. And then drum practice.
And, finally, time to go home.
I got out of practice with the other drummers just in time to hear the PA shouting, "Last call for route 109. Repeat, last call for one-oh-nine. You have one minute."
CRAP!
I ran as fast as I could to catch up with the maglev bus.
Maglev isn't a new technology - it was first instituted as part of the scenery at the Atlanta Olympics in 1996, then at the most recent World's Fair in Lisbon, New Spain, and is now all over the country, thanks to hard work from the American Worker Corps. Maglev means "magnetic levitation," and is the most energy-efficient form of transportation in the world. It uses little energy, and is now completely computer-controlled.
But of course, the maglev buses still had the yellow-and-black patterns associated with American school buses, so other commuters remember that the bus has the right-of-way in most situations.
Computer control also meant that if necessary, the cops could take control of a car being used by an escaping criminal, and drive it straight to the nearest police station.
I palmed the pad by the door just as it began to close.
What would traditionally be the drivers' seat of the school bus was occupied by a computer. This one had a large red, electronic eye, and it swiveled on its universal joint to look straight at me. I felt a flash in my right eye as the computer scanned it to confirm my identity, then said, in a female voice, "You're late, Ulrich."
"Band practice," I explained. "You know how it is."
The computer obviously did not know how it was, but the eye nodded. The bus computer could access my daily schedule in a moment. You gotta love sentient A.I. "Get on. Your seat's still empty, so you'll be okay. Drop you off at home?"
"No. Just the nearest intersection to home," I said, getting into my seat, second on the right, near the window. No one ever took the seat next to me.
The computer didn't ask why - the videodisk for the first Lord of the Rings movie had just come out, and there was s tore near home that was selling them.
Besides, I'd be home before dinner either way.
The computer closed the bus doors and headed off for home.

N.W. is one of the great cultural centers of South America. The majority of obscure immigrants came here and the descendants of refugees lived there. The city was populated by former Zulus, Spaniards, Celts, even Koreans. As a result, it was a very eclectic culture.
There was a lot of great music as well. Right along with American rock-and-roll, pop and other stuff, Latin music was big. It was popularized by Spanish immigrants and descendants of the Mexica and the conquered Incas. It had a great rhythm to it, and the culture was everywhere.
To its very core it was an American city, partly because of that cultural richness. American culture was the envy of the world. Whatever fad came along in America was quickly being replicated worldwide. American movies were shown in nearly every theater on Earth, American books filled bookstores all over, and so on.
New Washington was also a center for trade. Even though sea trade was not as important in a world with jets transporting goods to every corner of the globe, it was popular. The airport received tourists from all over the planet. American communication satellites were often launched from the recently-built Space Center in N.W.
The architecture shows roots from all over, but at the heart of the city were the American signature - skyscrapers, towers of plastiglass and titanium alloys that seemed almost to touch the clouds - and actually did in some cases, so the uppermost parts of skyscrapers actually had to be pressurized.

The maglev system traveled between the large buildings in a lot of cases, but the school buses usually didn't go more than a hundred feet off the ground, even in the more condensed parts of the city.
It was usually commuters who ended up riding the sides of buildings, going up and down the maglevs on the sides of skyscrapers.
Skyscrapers weren't made out of steel and glass anymore, like they were in the old days, especially at the higher altitudes. It was mostly synthetic materials, sorts of plastics and alloys that high up.
I live in the suburbs. Suburbs are pretty common, since not everybody wants to live in apartments in the big city. The suburbs were where you raised families. Then the kids moved into the city, and eventually, more likely than not, they eventually ended up back in the suburbs to raise their kids. I'm surprised that no one just stays in the suburbs to save some time.
But anyway.

I picked up the disk and headed home.
I guess you could call me a 'latchkey kid' most of the time. But in my parents' day, the term actually made sense, because there were actual latches and actual keys involved.
These days, most doors are magnetically sealed, and I had to palm the pad by the door and let the Eye-Dentifier scan my iris to confirm that it was me. Palm prints were easy to fake, after all.
The door opened.
I walked inside, to find that the house was much cooler. I shivered a little, and smiled. Mom and Dad, as you may or may not remember, come from much colder climates. And even with the jungles around the city cleared, the area was pretty warm. It was the largest American city this close to the Equator. Scandinavia and Ireland pretty much never get this warm.
We could afford having the air conditioning going full-blast. Dad's status as a military advisor at the Second White House got us a lot of money. Mom was content to stay home, even though she was taking classes.
I called out to her - in American, of course, since Celtic was a dead language now, mostly. But even so, strangely enough, American sounds almost exactly like old English, just without the accent and with a lot of words the English never thought of. We Americans took a lot of words from other languages and made them our own.
Dad was different. When he was home, he spoke Scandinavian half the time, and so almost from infanthood I've been bilingual. Dad speaks American, but it's rudimentary at best, so I speak a fluent Scandinavian.
New Washington is a polyglot city, so no one really seems to mind.
But it was just Mom at home for now. She was in the TV room, with the TV off, listening to U2. She mostly likes them because they're from Ireland and actually released an album in Celtic recently.
I like their music, too, and I guess Mom got into them because of me.
Mom was a big believer in national pride. Every year on St. Patrick's Day, she goes out and hangs an old Celtic Irish flag next to the American one. The newer state flag is almost the same as the old Celtic version.
"Mom, I'm home," I said.
"I heard you come in," she said. "Where were you? The school bus came by twenty minutes ago."
"At the video store getting Lord of the Rings. The new expanded version. I know you and Dad like that movie."
Mom shrugged. "I liked the books. The movie was good, too. So how was school?"
"Same old, same old. We're pretty much done with American History for this year. And all the other stuff."
"About the conquests?" she said, sadly.
"Liberations, really. The Celtic administration of the time oppressed those that they had conquered, like the English and the Spaniards. Things were better in Ireland because the population was mostly Celtic."
She smiled sadly. "I suppose they were oppressive. Things are much better now."
"Yeah. But here people have the option of saying that they don't like the way things are without fear of reprisal. Freedom of speech. Same in the territories and Iroquois-England."
"I still can't believe that the Iroquois took over there."
"Hiawatha loves English culture, and particularly Shakespeare. And he and Elizabeth were good friends until the Celts killed her."
Mom sighed. "I know that my people were never perfect, but we did what we felt was best."
"I know, Mom."
Mom sighed. "It's almost time for the news." Then she turned to the TV. "TV: On: CNN."
The TV turned to CNN where the global news was playing.

There was a riot going on in London. A group calling itself the ERA (English Republican Army) was causing a large riot near Buckingham Palace, now home to the Iroquois-English Congress. The riot was led by Charles Windsor, supposedly a direct descendant of Elizabeth. But since she divorced her first husband, it was hard to figure it out. Recent genetic tests had proven his claims to be true.
The so-called ERA had a small band of followers, most of them people who had been brought up hating the Iroquois. It was interesting to see that European xenophobia was still alive and well in certain places.
The Iroquois police had dealt with the rioters. Windsor - affectionately called 'Prince Charles' by ERA supporters - would spend the night in jail.
The CNN anchor theorized that the ERA wanted a return to the old English monarchy because these royal descendants would, by right of bloodline, get the job immediately.
The only royal descendants, the anchor continued, who seem not to share the dissident opinions of their other family members, were Charles' estranged wife, Diana, and their two children.
Diana went on record as denouncing her ex-husband's efforts to rebuild the old English Empire, and went on record as being a proud citizen of Iroquois-England.

The next Olympic Games were taking place in Athens, Greece. The Winter Games after that were taking place in Italy, then the Summer Games in Beijing. That was possibly because Mao was working hard to rehabilitate himself.
America was sure to dominate again - but that was my opinion. The United States and Germany - and to a lesser extent Scandinavia - had been competing specifically against each other in those games for decades.

Festivities were being held to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of man walking on the moon. The descendants of Wilbur and Orville Wright were going to help with the celebration taking place at the NASA Space Center in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. I was hoping I could be there.

After the news they went back to covering the mediations between Lincoln and Cleopatra. They were meeting in Thebes, with the Great Pyramids in the background. She had really spared no expense for Lincoln's arrival - large red Egyptian flags were everywhere, and even the Pyramids were decorated with the hammer and sickle - in solid gold, which gleamed even more brightly in the sunlight than the ancient covering of white limestone covering the ancient structures. [OCC: True story. The Pyramids were originally covered with white limestone, but the covering was stolen by thieves. Don't ask me why.] She had even brought out the solid gold cap for the largest of the Pyramids. She had last used that gold cap for the Millennium celebrations back in '01. They had visited exhibits at the Egyptian museums, and the tombs of her greatest advisors from ages past. Lenin, who had been assassinated recently, was in a brand-new tomb in Hieraconpolis. (one of many Egyptian cities with a Greek name, this one meaning "city of the hawk" - in honor of its patron god, Horus) The city had been home to Egypt’s first king before Cleopatra came to power.
The Egyptian practice of mummification had gotten better with the passing of time. Lenin's sarcophagus was encrusted with solid gold – they showed it on TV, after Cleopatra allowed CNN cameras into the tomb for the first time in history – with a very lifelike death mask, traditional Egyptian headdress… but instead of the traditional mace and flail that most Egyptian mummies were depicted as wearing – traditional Egyptian symbols of authority – he wore a solid gold, life-size, hammer and sickle crossed on his chest, one tool in each hand so the two tools were crossed as on the Egyptian flag.
The Egyptian flag, by the way, depicted the three pyramids with the gold hammer and sickle crossing the image of the Great Pyramid.
Creepy.

The French in the Philippines... sorry, New France... were getting along okay. Joan of Arc ruled quietly from her palace in New Paris – formerly Manila – but still let her advisors do most of the work. She wasn’t the young immortal who’d taken control of ancient Paris six thousand years before. Her spirit was broken.
Sometimes people wondered if wiping her out wouldn’t be considered a mercy.
Not that anyone could have tried, since the island was guarded by battleships – old American battleships sold to the French.
The French barely had flight capabilities, so they were pretty much trapped, except for the number of French refugees who regularly headed for South America.

The news was okay, but it got kinda boring when they started looping it again and again. CNN had to show news twenty-four-seven, after all.
“TV: Off,” I said. “So, Mom, how was your day?”
“The usual,” she said. “I mostly just hung around. I’m glad we bought those little robots that vacuum and clean the windows and dust things. I hardly have to do any work anymore.”
I smiled. “They have the upgrades available for download on the ‘Net.”
“You do that,” she said, chuckling. “Computers are more your department anyway.”
“Oh, gee, thanks,” I said, smiling.
She shoved me a little bit and I got up. She got up to start on dinner. Dad would be home soon.
“So how was everything else in school?” Mom asked. “Other than history.”
“Like I said, same old, same old. Nothing really new, since it’s almost time for finals.”
She nodded. “Oh, okay.”
I sighed. I was tired, and there was no homework. I felt like maybe playing a computer game.
I headed for my room. It was dark.
“Lights: on. Level four. Computer: On: Check messages. TV: On: History Channel.”
The appliances did as instructed, and I sat down at my desk, the TV going quietly behind me.
The computer whirred a little, then the keyboard shimmered and appeared. The monitor turned on, and the computer itself went through daily diagnostics. It only took a few nanoseconds.
The computer was new: Pentium 18, 64 Gigs, holographic flat-screen, WEBcam, holographic keyboard, voice-activated. But then the voice-activation tech was nothing new. It had been around since the '90s.
I checked my messages. A couple from my friends asking about the dance, if I was going or not. I read them all, deleted them, and then signed off of the Internet.
I sighed. “Computer: Load: Civilization 3 - Play the World.”
To be continued...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Interesting start.

[vovan]

Very nice beginning, Centaury.

[Centauri18]

More soon. This is pretty difficult to do with an altered history and no real outline. Once again, I'm making this up as I go.

[Elden]

Excellent Story, keep going it's great.

[Centauri18]

The next day in school I was up early enough to watch the news. Negotiations in Egypt were going well, and a meeting had been initiated between Egypt and the Ottoman States. Egypt had bought the Gaza Strip for about three hundred bars of gold (About thirty thousand American dollars) and called it a bargain. It was, really, even with the dollar being the most powerful currency on the planet.
Also, China was assembling a large navy just off the coast of Taiwan. Even with Mao in the midst of a switch to Democracy, things were starting to heat up over there. The French called for the disassembly of that navy immediately, saying that it was clearly a threat to their sovereignty.
I was inclined to agree with them. China had coveted the islands of New France ever since the French had been situated there. The French saw the Chinese naval ensign flutter on the Chinese ships patrolling not too far off their coasts, and were afraid.
In a way the same kind of pessimism was arising in New France as the kind that arose in Old France during German militarization just before the Second World War. And this time, there would be no mercy, no time for Joan of Arc to escape.
But as mentioned before, these days it was as if the immortal French leader felt like death would be mercy.

The International Space Station reported that their experiments in cryogenic hibernation were progressing smoothly. For now it was mostly computer simulations. Soon there would be tests on animals, and then humans. It was to be the first movement toward possible human colonization of other planets. Fusion reactors, currently used to power most cities in the Americas, were also being adapted for use in space.
It was all good news to NASA, which was still trying to gather funds for the Mars Project. NASA had been sending probes to the Red Planet for generations, since the 1930's. But a manned mission was so much more complicated. It wasn't like you could go straight from the Moon landings to landing on another planet.
Critics of the project complained that NASA had sure taken its sweet time with the Mars Project, but it was necessary. No sense in being unprepared. NASA wanted to be ready for any contingency, and so the launch date kept getting pushed back. Plans were now to launch within the next five years, but they could declare the project finished as early as 2005.
Huh. I'd be sixteen by then.

Egypt and Carthage were modifying their borders. Cities changed hands in diplomatic negotiations. Cleopatra was a benevolent ruler, even with a Communist government. She had given the people control of the means of production, just as Marx had intended. Perhaps within the next few decades Cleopatra might decide to abandon Communism in favor of the new form of democracy – Virtual Democracy.
First tried in America, Virtual Democracy took the representatives completely out of the picture, and left decisions up to the people. It was truly "one man, one vote" as many decisions were posted on the Internet, and the people gave their opinions. Sometimes the majority ruled – often, in fact – but as often was, the side that made the best point was often the side that was victorious. Americans were smart people, and by the time an American reached voting age, he was usually as schooled in the ways of government as any Senator.
Forms of Virtual Democracy were also being tested in the far-flung Scandinavian Dominion and the Greater German Reich. Even India was considering the new government's merits.

At school, the first thing I noticed was a note taped to my locker. I didn't see much as I headed toward it, but I could recognize the seal of the United Nations.
I read the note.

Honor Students!
Sign-ups now beginning for Model United Nations.
Qualifications include a minimum 3.5 GPA, good attendance (less than seven tardies all school year), and a high grade in History.
See the world! Model U.N. delegates will attend conferences in the great capital cities of the world, as well as the Annual Model U.N. Conference in San Francisco, California, to take place this summer.
All expenses paid.
Tryouts to be held Monday after school.
Open to all grades.

"Sounds interesting, huh?"
I almost jumped. It was Tad, of course. He had noticed me reading the note and had casually walked up behind me to read it over my shoulder.
"Yeah," I said, "it does."
"So who do you think gave it to you? Mr. Grant?"
"Probably. I'm one of his favorite students."
"What do you mean, 'one of his favorite students'? You are his favorite student."
"Very funny. Okay, so Mr. Grant doesn't get many kids who are genuinely into history like I am."
"Me, I say, 'It's over, it's already happened. Get over it.' And then I just go about my business."
"If we fail to learn from the mistakes of history, we are doomed to repeat them."
"Who said that, anyway?"
"Some Greek historian like three thousand years ago. I think I'm going to take this, and fill out the application."
Tad nodded. "Cool. Send me a postcard from Salamanca."
"You know you can get there in two days on the maglev now?"
"Really?"
"Yeah. North to Cuba, then over the land a ways and you're there. They just stop in Cuba for the night."
"Cuba. Didn't the team there win the World Series once?"
"Yeah. Fidel Castro and the Rebels. That was one hell of a game against Miami. Nobody saw that coming."
"So how much does this cost, anyway?"
"It's a gesture of goodwill, man. The government handles it. The American treasury is huge. Trillions of dollars' worth in gold. They can afford to send a few kids from N.W. around the world."
Tad nodded. "That's a good point. So how do you think your parents are going to take it?"
"They’ll love it," I said. "Mom wants me to see the world someday, but we probably couldn't afford it until I was at least in college."
"And your dad?"
"I'll explain everything to him tonight. He's still stuck on how the maglev works, let alone how I'm gonna get a quarter of the way around the world that quickly. He'll be an easy sell. He always wanted me to see the old country, after all. Stay a few days in Trondheim. And Mom will want me to bring a few things back from Ireland."
"Man, that's American soil now. Ireland is no big deal, especially since the maglev goes across the Atlantic with that stopover in Iceland."
I nodded. "You can get to Europe through the maglevs, or at least the British Isles and New Spain, and Australia, but you still have to fly to get to most other places."
"Yeah, but once you're in Europe you can get practically anywhere on the autobahn anyway. You have to say one thing about Europe, they have a lot of roads. I mean, we used to have more, but ever since we got the maglev, half of 'em aren't even used anymore."

We mostly relaxed in the classes – like I said before, the secret to getting ready for a big test was being relaxed and not thinking about it for a few days. So we relaxed and didn’t even think about the tests.
Friday was essentially a free day. Half the school decided to stay home.
So I decided that talking to Mr. Grant during class would be better than doing it afterward.
“You really think I could make Model U.N.?” I asked him.
“And good morning to you too. I believe not only that you could, but also that you should. It would be a very good experience for you, riding the maglevs across North America, the autobahns of Europe, the railroads of Africa, and such. And you’d be seeing a lot of real cultural centers.”
“I mean, could I handle it? The whole diplomacy thing.”
He laughed. “I’ve seen you helping kids work out their differences for years. I even noticed you having a calm and rational discussion with a bully. You brought him to tears. You can talk to anybody. And it’s not like you don’t know the history of the nations you’d be visiting.”
I smiled. I remembered the thing with the bully. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But how do I pay for it? I can hardly afford–”
“The U.N. handles everything. The Model United Nations is merely an offshoot of the real thing. Model U.N. can be considered practice for the real thing if you're good enough. In the future, it may become the nominal government for the entire world.”
I frowned at the thought.
“Okay, I know that’s unlikely. But the possibility is there. Holding power there might bring you to the attention of the people in Old Washington, you know? I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”
“You had me at ‘hello,’ Mr. Grant,” I laughed. “I am just wondering how my mom and dad will take it.”
“I’ll call them right after school. Your mom, at least. I understand your dad is away most of the day?”
“Till right before dinner, that’s right.”
He smiled. “So maybe you ought to tell them. I’ll send you an email. It’s on the school server, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
“Just remember. My parents aren’t all that good with computers.”
“Then just print it out and give it to them.”
“Okay.”

I followed Mr. Grant’s instructions when I got home, and just told Mom that nothing was going on… and that I was expecting an email.
I set it up so that the email would print out the moment it was received on the small computer in the kitchen that Mom used to keep track of finances. That one was a Macintosh, so anyone could operate it.
I went into my room to watch TV and maybe get in a short nap before dinner. I had the weekend to study.
Dad came home and I heard the printer going in the kitchen.
And, predictably, I heard Mom call my name. “Robert Ulrich, you get out here right now!”
Typical mom instincts – she only knew that it was from the school by a first glance. So she assumed I’d done something wrong.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t have that kind of a history, but then in previous years Tad and I had been notorious for our pranks.
I’ve cleaned up my act since then.
“Yeah, Mom?”

They took the news well. Better than expected, anyway, considering the reaction the email originally got.
The message was clear: I was to go for it, sign up as soon as possible.
The email explained it all to me. The first stop would be the conference in Frisco. There, we would be involved in a U.N. conference acting out what happened at the real building in NYC. We would have all the research that the real ambassadors had at our disposal.
It wasn’t just one ambassador representing each country, of course. The Modern U.N. had small groups of people representing each company.
The conference would be judged, I guess you could say. The winners would travel through the country, to Washington to meet Lincoln, and then travel the world to meet similar winners from all over the world.
This whole thing happened once every five years, ever since the formation of the U.N. in 1928. This conference would not be the last.
I would probably be the youngest kid to try out. College kids went out for the American team.

I called Tad and told him how my folks took it. He said that he thought it was incredibly cool. He said that if I made the cut, it would make the Informer, perhaps even the front page. His mom was the governor, after all.
I told him he didn’t have to, but he insisted. I kindly told him that I had a lot of pressure on me just trying out.
Tryouts were Monday after school. I just hoped I had what it takes.

[Elden]

I just wondered if you knew that you listed Elizabeth as the leader of Egypt even though in the rest of the story it is Cleopatra.

EDIT: It has been fixed. - Great Story.

[Centauri18]

Corrected. Sorry - it was four in the morning and I hadn't slept. You can edit your post if you want.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good stuff but a lot of text just to say that the character is going to try for the UN, maybe you could slim down your installments ?

but please keep it coming

[Centauri18]

sorry about that.

[vovan]

I liked it. There's plenty of dialogue to offset the length of the chapter, so I would say that though at times you were a little overdoing it with words (like Chris said), it is still quite an enjoyable chapter, Centauri.

[Centauri18]

I know I got a little long-winded, and I think I'll cut the chapter down a little. But don't worry - it's going to get a little more exciting in the near future.

[Elden]

Originally posted by Centauri18
I know I got a little long-winded, and I think I'll cut the chapter down a little. But don't worry - it's going to get a little more exciting in the near future.

Please don't cut it, I like it long and there are probably others reading who do also. (It's excellent as is )

[Centauri18]

Okay.

[Centauri18]

EDIT: double post, sorry.

[Centauri18]

Finals were over. I didn’t even wait around to find out how I’d done before I started getting ready to go. My grades were good enough for me to go to the conference in San Francisco, California.
Mom and Dad saw me off at the maglev depot. It was right at the edge of the massive Sherman Rain Forest, thought to be home to large groups of primitive tribes and deadly animals.
The maglev track avoided the dense jungle altogether, in favor of a route over the northern parts of South America.
“Where’s the first stop?” I asked Mr. Grant. He was going to help supervise the group from New Washington. About five other kids were coming along, from around Brazil. They were the best.
I was pretty good.
It had been a week since school let out, and I had learned the basics of the Model United Nations. I’d be helping the more experienced kids out at first, mainly helping to collect research, and I’d only be sitting in on the actual meetings.
“Mexico City,” he replied. “We have to pick up a small delegation from down there.”
“What nation are they representing?”
He smiled. “Those are assigned once we get to Frisco. There are only a few groups needed, considering the number of countries these days, so you should be assigned a country to represent pretty quickly.”
“I just hope I don’t get New France.”
“New France is under United Nations protection, but only seen as a French Colony. And yet, officially, France is dead.”
“Joan of Arc would love that report.”
“She did. Her people still love her to the point where they would not even dream of assassination. Especially since that would mean that everyone in New France would die instantly.”
I nodded. “Oh.”
The Maglev had just left New Boston, which was at the edge of the Atlantic, in the former Spanish province of Argentina. The Spaniards had called it… Buenos Aires. I think it means “good air” or something. The air would have been pretty clear down there, since it was closer to the South Pole than most cities of the time. It was also close to the Strait of Nelson, named for the admiral who had passed his ships through it in his legendary circumnavigation of the globe.
I checked the readout panel above the terminal. It was about halfway here. We had about a half hour to wait.
“So,” I said. “What country do you think they’ll assign us New Washington kids?”
Mr. Grant shrugged. “Could be anybody. Could be Iroquois-Canada, but they’ll probably assign someone from closer to the Border. Maybe someone from Seattle or even New York. Someone from Alaska would know more about Japan. A New Spaniard would know at least a little about either Germany or Carthage. Well, probably more about Carthage, since they built that maglev across Gibraltar. Even Australian kids would know a little about the Indian people in what used to be called Indonesia.”
I smiled. “So us South American kids are pretty much isolated in terms of international connections, huh?”
“New Washington is a hotbed of culture. But mostly from refugees. Like the Zulu descendants who invented jazz, blues, and eventually rock and roll, then rap. Or the mestizos, descendants of the Aztecs or Incas that got into the Latin music invented by the former Spaniards. And all the immigrants from other countries. The problem is that there isn’t a large population from any country in particular. Things like that. You might just end up representing America.”
I sighed. “I hope so. I pay the most attention to American politics and such.”

The street maglevs are pretty fast, but the real maglevs, the ones that go between cities and even countries, are a lot faster. They were built over the old American train tracks, and are easier to maintain.
Maglev cars are essentially plastisteel bullets that soar along the rails at very high speeds. Originally the system was only used to transport weaponry and cargo. Living things could not handle the immense speeds for very long. Somehow we managed to invent technology to counteract the acceleration. Isaac Newton must have rolled over in his grave.
All I know is that it sure beats driving.
The car was minimal. It had a dining car, a luggage car, and a passenger car, and that was it. The maglev car was driven by a sentient AI in a small compartment at the front of the train. It was so minimal because you seldom had to worry about an overnight trip. Most trips were nonstop, only stopping overnight to pick up passengers and let the occupants acclimate to the time change, which frequently happened in maglev voyages. You often crossed at least two time zones. Getting from N.W. to Mexico City meant we’d be crossing through two different time zones, and going on Central Time once we got there. We’d be crossing into California and then go straight along the coast till we got to Frisco.
There was an eight-hour time difference from East Brazil to California.

I don’t remember if I slept. All I know is that the view wasn’t all that good. We were going faster than a bullet from a gun. We were going faster than sound.
We crossed the Panama Canal without even noticing it. People hardly used the old Canal anymore.
And then, quite suddenly, the maglev slowed down. We had to start slowing down early in order to be able to stop in Mexico City.
We arrived there earlier than we’d left New Washington. My watch was suddenly about three hours slow!
Mr. Grant smiled at me. “I’m never gonna get used to these changing time zones. Better than the old system of it being the same time everywhere. I’m glad that the military instituted this time zone policy.”
“Not everybody follows the time system.”
“Especially not Daylight Savings Time.”
“I thought it was just Arizona.”
“Parts of South America, too. Come on, we need to check in to our hotel.”

[OCC: Sorry this took so long, I’ve just been having trouble getting inspired. I’ll be cutting down the installments so I can get them out more often. And don’t worry, there is going to be at least some form of conflict in this story. It wouldn’t be Pax America without a war or two, after all.]

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Am I seeing double ? Any way its good to see some more

[Centauri18]

Don't worry, I stil plan on continuing and finishing this story. I have just run into the worst case of writers' block...

[vovan]

It's OK, Centauri. You are doing great so far. We can wait a little bit, as long as you aren't forgetting us altogether.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

It happens to all of us from time to time,

Dont worry you can go read and comment on my latest installments to Fight For Freedom, if you like and it may give you some inspiration.

EDIT It may give me some support also

[vovan]

Hey, Centauri, I hope you haven't forgotten us here. I don't know about everyone else, but I am starting to get strange withdrawal symptoms without another installment of the story to fix me up - and even though, I say, I don't know about everyone else, my educated guess would be that they share my sentiment. So, I am just curious as to how your little block is doing. Is it gone yet?

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Me too Mr C, looking forward to seeing you return to this. I am sure youre inspiration will return soon.

[Centauri18]

Sorry, I've just been very busy lately. Expect the latest installment before the week is out.

[vovan]

Great. I, for one, am looking forward to more.

[Centauri18]

After spending the afternoon at a small hotel near the terminal – it's strange, getting jet lag on a maglev – I finally met a couple of the other New Washington candidates for the Model United Nations. I knew most of them from school and around the city. New Washington may be a big city, but it never really lost the feeling of community.
Leaving Mr. Grant at the hotel – he was tired and he had to fill out forms to enter us in the Model UN, and he didn’t want to wait until the train ride to do so - I headed out into the city.
Mexico City is a city with a lot of history. American settlers built the beginnings of the city on top of the old Aztec ruins.
The city is still on a lake, the way the Aztecs built it. Lake Texcoco is where the city gets its fresh water, after all. The city used to be laced with canals instead of regular streets, and was called the “American Venice.”
I took a maglev bus through the city, listening to the guide yammer on about the Mexican War as the bus coasted by the ruins of Montezuma’s Palace.
Montezuma is scarcely remembered in modern society. Well, we named a gastrointestinal disease after him, but that’s really about it. The local populace doesn’t even remember him. The old ruler has no legacy.
But the Mexica themselves do have a legacy. Their culture permeates most of Central America, but they had completely given up the old ways of human sacrifice. The stains of human blood had long since worn off of the great pyramids, mostly thanks to time.
Elevated maglev trails glide past the massive structures. It was a lot like Chichen Inza, far to the south. The stone pyramids sat like sentinels, even among the large, ultra-modern buildings built by modern Americans. The central pyramid was hardly a match for the city’s largest buildings.
But it was still a fascinating place. Everywhere you went, there was history.

I visited an exhibit at the City Museum, and spent a lot of time at an exhibit on the history of the Mexican people in the United States. Mexican regiments had fought Spanish conquistadors in the conquest of Spain. The conquerors had become the conquered.
I found out that the conquest had been made easier because of the introduction of uniquely American diseases to Europe. Syphilis, for instance, swept through Spain like wildfire. But then European diseases came back to America with the returning troops. American medicine insured that the epidemic was not terribly deadly, and vaccines were found quickly. Not to mention that many incoming European immigrants had brought milder versions of European diseases with them over the centuries.
American scientists had quickly cured the deadliest European diseases, like smallpox, but others – like the common cold and influenza – remain even now as a nuisance and little else.
In modern society, the Mexican people were not the most important, but still an important link in the chain mail of American society.
The Mexicans were a very religious people, and everywhere you looked you saw cathedrals… and even mosques and synagogues, nowadays.

Mr. Grant and I met at the maglev station, followed by the other N.W. students. I just knew that we would be heading for San Francisco, where the convention was taking place.
“Where are the Mexico City kids?” I asked Mr. Grant.
He gestured toward a group of kids, all of them probably at least half-Mexica, standing at the other end of the terminal. “That’s them. Took me a while to try and find them, but they were here pretty much all day.”
“I really hate changing time zones so quickly.”
“Join the club. I still don’t think I’m completely caught up with everybody else.”
“You were asleep for hours.”
He shrugged. “Stuff happens. Now you know why I never do much traveling.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” one of the other kids, a half-Spanish kid named Andres added. “I know people in N.W. who run on completely different time zones. Why, Arizona doesn’t even use Daylight Savings Time.”
“Neither do a few places in South America,” I said.
“Very true.”
“Come on, kids,” Mr. Grant said. “The train’s coming.”

[OCC: I know this isn't one of my better chapters, but I didn't know where to go. Probably I'll edit later on. Next comes Frisco for a chapter or two, and then the action starts./OCC]

[Elden]

That was great.



More, More, More, More

[vovan]

Good stuff, Centauri. Hope more updates are coming our way.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Glad to see you back in action.

[Centauri18]

Well, please keep in mind that I am very busy lately. Remember that I haven't forgotten you guys, and I promise to have another update before the week is out.

[ChrisiusMaximus]