Sic Semper Tyrannis

[Solomwi]

Mid-Afternoon, August 9th, 1954

George Clavern was walking along a busy downtown street in Boston, keeping up a brisk pace to avoid being late for this meeting. He checked his watch and read 2:20 pm, fretting that he was going to keep a potential customer waiting with his usual tardiness. As he began cursing himself for that habit he couldn’t break, the normal, seemingly frenzied, pace of the day was shattered by an exploding storefront. Everything stopped, except the chattering of voices and wails of pain, as George lay dazed and bruised, the carefully prepared presentation in his now tattered briefcase and the client for whom it was intended completely forgotten.

Michael Grantham took his seat and smiled down at the sandwich in front of him. His mind occupied by thoughts of how easy it would be to hide this little indiscretion from his nagging wife and the impossible diet she had imposed upon him, he barely noticed the young man with the bulge in his jacket enter the New York deli. At the first shouts and subsequent ear splitting blast, he had just enough time to wish he could hear his wife’s nagging voice once more. It was the last thought he’d ever have.

In Paris, Officer John Pitchford was rounding the corner, bored with another patrol through the quiet mall parking lot, when the windows of the food court were blown out a hundred yards ahead of him. Racing to the scene, he put in a call to dispatch, then jumped out of the car. The moans of the dying assaulted his ears as he stepped through the rubble that had so recently been a Chick-Fil-A stand. Sirens preceded the arrival of fire trucks and ambulances, but nowhere near enough of them.

In the Atlanta headquarters of ANN, the calls kept coming. A crowded mall in Paris, near the Forbidden Palace, shockingly. An office building in Boston. A deli in New York. A bank in San Francisco. The courthouse in Dothan. Every major city in the nation had suffered nearly simultaneous explosions, save one. No calls came from Washington. Anchor Neal Vickers took to the air, hoping to simultaneously report the alarming news and calm the panic descending across the country, clinging to the lack of news from Washington like a life raft.

“A series of explosions has rocked the cities of America, but first, traffic and weather…”

[Solomwi]

3:00 pm, August 9th, 1954, Palace Conference Room

“Who, dammit, who?” screamed Lincoln, serving out his twelfth consecutive term as Prime Minister. “Is it the Russians?”

“Sir, we just don’t know. It doesn’t have any of the Russian hallmarks, but whoever it is,” replied security advisor Pierre Lafontaine, “they mean business. Those bombings weren’t random terrorism. They took out several IRS offices, killed seven governors and all four cabinet ministers in the Paris blast.”

“Martial law is the only answer,” chimed in Army Chief of Staff General Sherman. “We lock every city down with the National Guard, and arrest everybody with a dossier in Civil Intelligence.”

The rest of his argument was cut off by gunfire, which he, all too late, realized was coming from the hallway. The back door burst open, and a flood of Secret Service agents swarmed into the room, turning over furniture, setting up behind the ad hoc fortifications and manhandling the prime minister and his advisors to the ground.

In the hallway, Bill Redding, dressed in hunting fatigues, but wielding a military issue automatic weapon, dove into an open doorway, rolled a canister forward and waved his men through the smoke. The security detail, severely undermanned due to over a thousand years of peace and the holiday season, was quickly overwhelmed. The smell of gunfire hung heavy as the last uniformed man fell to a 7.62 mm bullet. The ragged looking bunch drew tighter at the end of the hall, their only common piece of clothing an armband featuring a depiction of the mythical hydra, with all its heads severed, atop the initials P.D.F. Redding examined the only door left closed, then waved back all but one man. All twelve men dragged furniture from the open rooms and crouched behind it as Brad Smith worked feverishly at the door before joining them. Outside the other end of the hall lay an even dozen maintenance uniforms and several oversized toolboxes.

The smell of cordite filled the air, and just as suddenly, the hall was no longer blocked by the troublesome door. A hail of gunfire poured through the opening from both sides. Three of the intruders, exhilirated over the elimination of the heavy door, charged forward and were cut down immediately. Redding shouted through the din for the rest to keep their cover. Don Harrison, immediately to Redding’s left, tossed another grenade through the black opening, accompanied by a withering fire from his compatriots.

[Solomwi]

3:00 pm, August 9th, 1954, Atlanta

Twenty heavily armed men poured through the doors of the ANN building, immediately killing the three elderly men on guard duty. Two took up positions at the monitor bank while the others stormed the staircase and elevators. Within minutes, they had control of the studio and the charming face of Barrett Brooks replaced Vickers on television sets across America.

“My fellow Americans, I represent the People’s Democratic Front. We regret that matters have come to this, but we are responsible for the attacks on our own cities today. These were not meant to take civilian lives, but were necessary measures to cut the many heads off of our tyrannical government. For too long, this country has put up a façade of republican government, while denying you and I our basic human rights. The imposition of American Orthodoxy as state religion. The state control of all major media outlets through the Information Act. The conscription of our sons, even after a millenium of continued peace. The brainwashing of our sons and daughters through the state-run education system. The confiscation of private property for housing of soldiers. The so-called Morality Acts. The Patriotism Police. The book bannings. The confiscatory level of taxation imposed to pay for all these things. These are not the acts of a representative government charged with protecting the rights of its citizens. I submit to you, my fellow countrymen, that we are living under a monarch parading as prime minister. Through political machinations, Lincoln has been able to quash any opposition to his policies and rule. This is tyranny, regardless of how many senators he must cow to get his way. I implore you to join with us in liberating this great nation, installing a true democratic regime and reaching our true potential, as the greatest nation on earth. We do not wish for a high death toll, and our methods are designed to spare this great nation a lengthy civil war, and the cost in American lives that would go along with it. However, we are resolved to remove the despotic regime of Abraham Lincoln, and erase his stain upon humanity.”

3:45 pm, August 9th, 1954, Washington

Two more PDF soldiers fell as the whole unit poured through the door, those behind them gunning down three more agents behind the overturned conference table. Six men in armbands, from the contingent that overpowered outer security once the strike force was safely inside, rushed in, guns ablaze. At some point in the confusion, Redding called out “Jayhawk!” and all the PDF guns went silent as one black suited agent cautiously rose, hands held up.

“I’m it!” he cried, “Stop! You can have him!”

Harrison waved the agent against the wall with his rifle, muttering a snide remark about commitment to duty. Redding glanced over his shoulder, silently signalling the newcomers, one of which nodded and ducked back into the hall. He returned with a video camera as Redding ushered the shaken prime minister through the back door, once Smith signalled the room clear. The rest of the group stepped over the lifeless body of William T. Sherman on their way, carrying various pieces of equipment into what they were now referring to as “the clean room.” The door was shut and the vents turned on, clearing the remnants of smoke from the room as the video equipment was set up. Redding pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had been hoping to dial all day.

“We’re ready.” was all he said.

4:20 pm, August 9th, 1954, Atlanta

Jacques Parker grinned at Brooks from the production booth and nodded. Brooks returned the grin and prepared to go back on the air.

“My fellow Americans. The People’s Democratic Front is proud to take you to Washington, and bring you the following message from Mr. Lincoln.”

The feed cut to Washington, and the makeshift studio, with Prime Minister Lincoln sitting in front of the camera, looking nothing if not defeated. Lincoln eyed the men behind the camera, and their rifles, then cleared his throat.

“Faced with no other alternative, it is my duty, in order to avoid a costly and deadly internal conflict, to order all American military and civil security personnel to lay down their arms when confronted by revolutionary forces. No matter what history thinks of Abraham Lincoln or the years I spent ruling this country, I will not let it think of me as the man who plunged America into a bloodbath from which it may never recover. Let there be as peaceful a transfer of power as is possible at this point, for I know there can be no continuation of the current regime.”

As the light on the camera flickered off, Harrison muttered, “Well, he may be a tyrant, but he’s no murderer. I’ll give him that much.” His comment was greeted with a chorus of nods.

Barrett Brooks once again took center stage on the American airwaves, outlining the PDF’s plans for the future of America.

“My countrymen, let me make one thing clear. We, the PDF, do not desire power. We have no plans to govern this country any longer than is necessary. Through the past several years, our organization has grown large enough to replace, to a man, the current regime down to the level of provincial governor. Those brave patriots are, as we speak, being sworn into their temporary offices. The members and considerable resources of the PDF will also now be put to work rebuilding what was, unfortunately, destroyed in our campaign to regain all of our liberty. There will be no interruption of services. There will also be no permanent PDF regime. The only duties of these new government officials will be to keep order maintained until such time as a legitimate govenrment can be elected by the people of America. As Interim President, I am calling on each province to select three of its best and brightest to send to Washington, for the purposes of drafting a national charter, under which full elections can be held, and under which no man can ever garner the power to recreate what we have suffered under Lincoln. Mr. Lincoln will be tried for his crimes against humanity, not under the PDF, but under the first duly elected government under the new charter. This document will also be designed to protect the most basic of human rights, those of life, liberty and property, and ensure that government can never again encroach upon them. May those that were lost today be forever remembered as heroes, for it is through their sacrifice that we are once again able to call ourselves free men and women.”

12:00 pm, August 9th, 1955

George Clavern sipped his beer and watched the television intently as the new legislature, the first freely elected government in who knows how long, was sworn in. He shook his head, reflecting on that fateful day one year ago when he almost died. He thought about the surprising support the PDF had garnered in those first few tenuous days. He thought of Generals Jackson, Lee and Grant, who, it was discovered, had already pledged the forces under their command to not interfere with the PDF’s coup d’etat. He thought of the bodies he had seen in that store. He thought of one in particular, that of Governor Daley. He let a smirk cross his lips remembering the city under Daley, and decided the past year had been worthwhile, after all.

Captain John Pitchford stood solemnly over a plaque in the concrete of the new entrance to the Memorial Wing of Somme Creek Mall. He read the names of the twenty one innocent people who had perished in the blast, over and over. For a brief moment, he relived the minutes of hour from a year ago. His thoughts lingered on how many more bodies there could have been. For a slightly longer moment, he felt proud to be an American, proud that his countrymen on both sides could act so nobly in such dire times. He walked slowly back to the waiting woman, and the eight month old infant in her amrs, clutched them both tightly and bundled them into the car.

Sarah Grantham rose from her husband’s grave, leaving a single rose on the stone as she blew a kiss toward the ground and backed away. On the ride home, through tear-stained eyes, she told her twelve year old daughter how her father had given his life for the freedom they both enjoyed today.

Barrett Brooks rose at the end of the swearing in ceremony, filing out with the rest of the crowd, sensing the distinct feeling that he could die fulfilled, having seen his replacement sworn in. No, not his replacement, he thought, for he had never truly been president. The next thought to enter his mind was that that was just fine by him. He drove to his office, finally able to settle into his new job at the Jefferson Institute, the most presatigious Washington think tank, dedicated to human rights everywhere.

[SKILORD]

'That's my line!'

(Chris and Vovan should remember that, for the rest I shall procure a link)


(The Link Go to Chapter 6, Shot Heard 'round the World, near the bottom (thoughnot so near)
-

Not a bad bit, I expect... interesting results.

[vovan]

Man, it's quiet here!

Any way, I quite enjoyed this quite a bit so far, Solomwi. I, too, am confident this is going to be interesting...

@ SKI. I remembered Manifest Destiny as soon as I read the title of this bit.

[SKILORD]

Yeah, I lookecd back over it and almost wept about how short my attention span is.

That might have been a magnificent story, :sigh:

[Solomwi]

LOL! I thought this one had the most definite ending point of any of my stories yet . After looking back at it, though, there are a few directions I could go to continue it, I think. I'll have to see what springs forth in the next few days.

SKILORD, I think we both owe JWB a dollar .

[SKILORD]

I figured that the PDF would become, themselves, Tyraniccal and corrupt and face their own mortality. This is waaayyy too idealistic an ending for me. No siree, noone's values have been compromised and noone has died... well actusally that's not true.... noone important.

Except Lincoln of course. And a few other, minor people in the explosions.

[vovan]

Sorry, Solomwi, I have yet to recognize an ending in any of your stories.

Maybe you could put a "The End" next time, for those of us with little literary sense such as myself.

Any way, I hope to see more from you soe time soon, if not continuation of this story, then something else maybe? I quite enjoy your writing style I must say.

[Paddy]

Thanks Solomwi. I love a good story... (even if I can not finish my own...)

Keep up the good work.

[Solomwi]

Originally posted by SKILORD
I figured that the PDF would become, themselves, Tyraniccal and corrupt and face their own mortality. This is waaayyy too idealistic an ending for me. No siree, noone's values have been compromised and noone has died... well actusally that's not true.... noone important.

Except Lincoln of course. And a few other, minor people in the explosions.

That's one possibility I'm looking at for a followup, but the PDF were philosophically based on America's founding fathers, in that they revolted to lift government's hand from their lives, rather than replace it with their own hands on others' lives. There is historical precedent for such a revolution .

With football season coming to a close, I'm going to have more time to flesh out some stories, and develop dynamic characters a lot more, which the quick-hitters I've written so far haven't really given the opportunity for. Btw, Lincoln's trial, along with the fates of some other officials, is another route I'm thinking of taking the followup. He's not dead .

[SKILORD]

There is historical precedent for such a revolution .

None of the founders ever took so free a hand in the creation of the government as the PDF is shown as taking.

[Solomwi]

Originally posted by SKILORD


None of the founders ever took so free a hand in the creation of the government as the PDF is shown as taking.

Not sure I'm understanding your point here, as the founders, as a group, created one government from complete scratch, then disposed of it a few years later when it proved less effective than they had hoped and created a second (the one we have today, more or less). They may not have installed their own immediately into positions vacated by the previous government, but, imo, that's a question more of methods than goals. If you'll notice, the PDF calls for a constitutional convention immediately upon taking control. It's not a part on which the story focuses (which gives me yet another idea for a boring continuation ), but it's in there.

Both governments the founders created were, while based on ideas both ancient and new, revolutionary at the time. The PDF, in 1954, wasn't exactly breaking new ground installing a democratic government (though, to be fair, in game context, they could have been, but I moved the revolution back about 600 years for the story's sake).

[SKILORD]

True, but when they replaced it they put their new government's establishment to the people. The PDF does not, but is rather dependant from its very premise on the force of their arms. In any government in which people still have say armed revolution is hypocrisy, because in an open society that is watching its freedoms be diminished by not the active pursuit of the rulers but rather by laziness of the people it is not the rulers that need to be fixed it is the people. Was it the Rulers, then, in your story? You list out laws that have been imposed on these people, and yet you claim that they are built upon a crudely republican government. I think there is still hope for nonviolent revolution of thought. The people are obviously still somewhat f import (though certainly not of primary import) and could likely, through demonstrations and protests, procure a more favorable government and perhaps even a Constitutional Convention. Democracy is not about your ideals, you see, it is about the will of the people, no matter how foolish they are, no matter how lazy they are. If they are unwilling to take freedom themselves, don't impose it on them.

This sort of revolution cannot be accomplished through armed warfare against the people (ask Lenin, Stalin or Kruschev) but must rather be accomplished through education, your Media laws would have made it difficult for them, yes, but hardly impossible. But now your PDF controls all of these appartuses, you end your story with the proposition that they, using the help of a people who had been utterly slumbering and leaving their liberties to be taken by, if you will, Big Brother, to create a nation of liberty out of virtually nothing. Such people are not so easily woken, such nations are not so easily freed. America declared independence through the people, there were no prompts for us, we were already awake. The Russian people were not so when their revolution came, they protested against their empty stomaches, not for their liberties, not for 'taxation with representation' (Which is not to say to the Russians of the late Great War that they should merely suck it up, rather that their causes for revolution were different and that theirs did not demonstrate an 'aake' population) they then succumbed to a government just asa domineering as the tsar had been.

The PDF strikes me as a Leninistic Revolutionary group and such groups, while certaintly more effective, should not falsely call themselves Popular.

So my point is then, that Democracy is not a gift, it is not something to be given by a third party, it is something that a people earn. It is something hard to procure, but; to paraphrase Paine, We can only value things bought at great price.

Furthermore I would call any level of taxation confiscatory.

And By the way, have you ever read a book called Ressurection Day by Brendan Dubois? It's a fascinating piece of Alternate Histry in which democracy is restored from it's ashes, your story reminds me of it alot.

[unscratchedfoot]

Originally posted by Solomwi


Not sure I'm understanding your point here, as the founders, as a group, created one government from complete scratch

I had nothing to do with those PDF weirdos.

Originally posted by SKILORD
True, but when they replaced it they put their new government's establishment to the people. The PDF does not, but is rather dependant from its very premise on the force of their arms.

You mean they used their big biceps to drop an establishment on top of the people?

Anyways, clarification comments aside, I hope you don't mind a scratchy little comment about the story too: it needs more spunk. Like I mean, its fairly textbooky like something from political science. I know this is very scratchy but its just my opinion and I'm biased cause I don't like politics except for real big stuff like American national election. So what I mean is you need something unexpected thrown in to jar the reader. The PDF blowing up a building and arresting Lincoln of all people is very predictable and has a usual feeling so you could have twisted the ending or something for a surprise. But don't worry it is well formulated and put together and has some fans.