Schoolday

July 6, 2006

Dear Diary,

I had another day at school. I got to play handball with my friends today. I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m pretty good at playing handball. I was queen of the court twice in a row. I hit really good slicies, dead-mans, and cross-countries. Michael accidentally fell while trying to get one of my slicies, and he scratched his hand pretty badly. He almost cried but he saw other kids were watching, I think he wanted to but couldn’t. Mr. Holden, our yard-duty cleaned up the court and took Michael to the nurses’ office so we could play again.

After Michael got hurt my friends started getting mad at me because I kept winning. I don’t understand why they were so angry at me, I never did anything to them, I was nice and I played by the rules too. While Mr. Holden was at the nurses’ office my friends I was playing with started voting to change the rules; they wanted to make hitting slicies, dead-mans, and cross-countries illegal so I couldn’t hit good shots to get them out. I tried to explain that it wasn’t fair they got to change the rules just so they could win more, but they told me I was being mean and they didn’t want to play with me. I felt really sad, I didn’t want my friends to leave me so I went along with their rules. Of course I got out right away to Kaitlyn who laughed at me and started bragging that she beat me. I wanted to say something back but I didn’t because Mr. Holden had returned from the nurses’ office and was right behind Kaitlyn! When she turned around she looked at the ground and didn’t say anything. Mr. Holden sent Kaitlyn to the back of the line for being rude and told her if she did it again she wouldn’t play handball for a week.

Mr. Holden asked what had happened, and Sarah told him that I kept winning and that the line voted to change the rules. Mr. Holden told us it wasn’t moral for people to make new rules because other people were better at certain things than others. He asked Sarah what she was really good at. Sarah is a really good swimmer; she is the fastest person I know! She told Mr. Holden she was good at swimming, and he asked her how she would feel if he told her she had to swim with one arm tied behind her back if she could swim faster than him. Sarah said she didn’t think that would be fair. Mr. Holden then asked them if they thought the rules that they had voted for were fair. They thought about what he said, and answered, “no.” Mr. Holden then watched us play, and after I was queen of the court again he told us we should play doubles so more people could play. I didn’t want to, but it was okay because I got to play with my friend Sarah, and we had a lot of fun together.

After recess I spent two hours in class. We had free-reading time again and I chose to read, “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” The library at school has a lot of books, but some are a little hard for me. I can’t read most of them, some are in weird languages but the Alpha students spend all their time reading them! I only know three Alpha students, most of my friends at Maple Elementary are Beta like me. I wonder what Beta means anyway, my teacher told me we would know in a few years. I’m really curious but I don’t know any teenagers who might know. I think Sarah asked her older brother, but he never told her either. I’m going to ask mommy to pour me a glass of milk downstairs before I go to bed. Goodnight!

Love,

Chelsea Baum

A Story of a Mission from the Past

From the journal of a Yassia National Guardsman, Pfc. Paul Ericsson, 2nd Infantry

Oct. 5, 1967
Port Stanford

It's the second year of the civil war. The Yassia Freedom Army wants to make a free nation, im to serve the Republic and defend her from the YFA. I hope this war ends soon.

Oct. 10, 1967
Riker, 5mi from Port Stanford

I was in my first fire fight, I shoot a enemy RPG'er with my FAL, He went down. It was hell, they came out after I shot him. There was a least 50 of them, my Lt. was wounded and we lost 4 men. They were killing kids, before we got there. This "YFA" is a terrorist group I don't like.
There talk of a treaty, I hope there is.

N0v. 4, 1967
Port Stanford

The war has ended for now. Their leader, Gen. Kailt Kistiora has surrendered to my unit. We were to escort him to the treaty signing. He looked tired from the 2 years of war, these "wars" last about 5 weeks to 3 years. I hope this will be the last one.

Pfc. Ericsson and his unit was given the Medal of The Republic for their locating of the YFA leader in the Second Yassia War. Ericsson is currently the Governor of The Commonwealth of Yassia.

Time and Traffic

Only the tiny whine of Norman's casting broke the unending susurration of the ocean. A fizzing hiss rushed over the pebbled shoreline, the last vestiges of an enormous exhaling breath of the mighty Pacific. The morning sun had not yet breached the embankment wall behind him and a slight breeze frosted his breath as he stood ankle-deep in the surf. Bait and tackle hit the icy water at a stone's-throw distance with a plink, and the line settled silently on the waves. With infinite patience Norman coaxed the line back into the reel, reaping quarter-inches of nylon thread with every click. The gentle ocean played with the line, tossing it and pulling slightly at the hook; the waves were small and calm in this isolated little inlet but it took a small measure of experience to tell the difference between the nibble of a fish and the tug of a current.

Norman has fished here every morning for the last twelve years since his retirement. Never once in all that time did he change his dawn routine. He would wake nearly a minute before the alarm, rise from his sleep-warm bed in a manner so as not to wake his wife. Quietly, he would don his woolens and step into hip-waders. On the way out the door he would pull on his flannel coat, grab his lucky hat from the stand, and head out into the dim pre-dawn. It was only a four-minute drive from the house to his favourite spot.

Not so long ago, his tiny inlet was more remote. Time had strolled at a much slower pace and Prince Rupert was a smaller community. Norman used to know everyone on his street, by face if not by name. A genial nod would be met and returned, a smile for a smile. Not so long ago, traffic was lighter, people tended to follow the posted limit. Then the government had fallen into disarray. One nation fell and another rose to take its place, at least in this part of the world.

Initially, very little had changed for Prince Rupert. There was the foreign army with their soldiers and tanks, certainly, but they had not fired any shots. They had just arrived one afternoon - landed in the harbour, rolled into town, and set up a garrison in Roosevelt Park. The rest had left, down the Yellowhead Highway and onto the mainland. A week later, all of northern and central British Columbia was declared the Dominion of Cymrea, and the army's commanding officer was the new prime minister. The city was no longer called Prince Rupert. It was Azuria, now, and the capital city. New buildings were constantly being constructed, reaching ever higher in a race to the clouds. New faces arrived daily, by the boat-and plane-load it seemed. There came more and more boats. And more planes. The expansions of the harbour and airport had gone at a prodigious pace. And with all this growth came the need for more workers, more people, more housing. Before long, Kaien Island was filled, and the continuing press of people exploded onto the mainland in a spray of houses and roads, parks and parking lots. So many new faces lived on Norman's street. So few of them smiled or nodded back at him. Time and traffic thundered past now, both accelerated to keep up with the world.

The tiny inlet remained somewhat isolated, sheltered at the edge of a new city park, and as Norman cast his line again, he could almost pretend that the metropolis behind him did not exist. That Prince Rupert still stood as a modest gem on the Pacific coast.

He closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment, preserving the dim dawn and the chill salty air within him. He exhaled as the ocean did, slowly and inexorably. When he opened his eyes, he found that an iceberg has drifted into view, brilliantly reflecting the morning sun, turning majestically as it floated. Gliding by, it was a northern queen in a solitary parade, a monarch of white in a realm of blue. Norman watched, transfixed by the elegantly simple expression of elemental beauty.

A clap of thunder shattered the morning's peace, accompanied by the sound of the sky tearing. Before the echoes had faded completely away, the iceberg shattered, too. Norman continued to watch, transfixed still. A million million shards of snow and ice formed a glittering lace fan a hundred feet tall. Slowly the shards fell, diving headlong into the Pacific and each hit the icy water with a plink. The remains of the iceberg - now greatly diminished - rocked back and forth. Its majesty stolen, it limped out of view like a leprous cripple.

Norman stood, pole in hand, as the ocean fizzed at his feet. He thought nothing at all for a long moment. Struck numb by the display. When equilibrium returned, his first notion was to wonder what could have done such a thing. The answer promptly presented itself: gliding along in the wake of the iceberg was a warship. Her lines were clean and straight and gleaming, if not so brilliantly as the ice-queen had. Beauty was only an incidental trait with her though, she was a sword of the sea.

Norman reeled his line back in steadily. There was no further need for quiet and patience; the fish had been scared off if there were any. He packed up his tackle box, made his way back up the embankment to his car. The sun was well over the horizon and beamed golden-red through the giant pillars of the downtown core, the towering buildings and skycranes. Pausing, he looked back to the tranquil ocean. The warship had moved down the coast, pacing the pale corpse of the iceberg. With a sigh, Norman got into his car. He drove out of the park and into the thundering traffic, heading home to his sleep-warm bed and his wife.

Historical Writings from the Topaz Campaign.

Excerpt from the Journal of Staff Sergeant. William M. Tikudi, 'Wolf's Head' Brigade, I Corps, 1st Army, DRC Theatre.

"This bloody jungle, makes the plains down south look like paradise. Two of my squad have already fallen to heat exhaustion, we had to stop so they could be bathed in the water hamocks, lucky those flyboys aren't afraid of getting up close and personal with tree trunks. The trees are so dense down here, I couldn't tell whether it was night or day last week.

Time seems to nearly stop out here, the air is thick in front of you, not a dry heat like on the plains, but a humid, oppressive buzz that you just want to swipe at. The fucking tankers and mounted troops have it easier, in their bloody air conditioned tin cans.

If that wasn't bad enough, we're actually chasing the enemy through this undergrowth. How any human being could make it through here, on the run, is beyond me. But then again, they're the locals.

Snipers nearly got us all this morning, the bastards ambushed us as the sun was just coming up, we were standing-to, and if we hadn't been, most of us would be dead. But we got the drop on the sneaky piss-heads. Sent a couple of LAW rockets in their direction, could have mopped them up with a sponge afterward.

We're heading up hill now, into the next province. I can hear the Arc-Light boys out there, they roared overhead about ten minutes ago. Go get em'."

A Look into an old Language

Stadia has been the oldest language in Brydog. It's a language spoken by all beacuse it's the native language of Brydog. It was first written on paper in 1957 BC, the paper was the Declaration of Statehood, the document that created the nation of Brydog. Many people in the world can't understand it, but all Brydogs know it. College around the world should offer classes in this odd but importaint language.

Patriarchal Decree to the Borno District of Bjornoyan Equatorial

(Received by Ngala Magistrate Dunsimi Kosoko)

Regarding: population control, population health, societal harmony, human dignity

Acknowledging: overpopulation of the Borno District, disease epidemic within Borno District, decrease of productivity within the Borno District

Calculating: the health of the citizens of the Borno District, the health of the future citizens of the Borno District

Patriarchal Will: The Borno District of Bjornoyan Equatorial shall from this day forth strive to contain the spread of various unhealthy microorganisms amongst the citizens of Borno District. As leaders of the state it is our top priority to maintain and encourage the health and lives of our citizens above all else. Should we fail this task we are unworthy to bear our responsibilities.

The Word: Acknowledging that human interactions are generally responsible for the transmission of disease from infected individuals to healthy individuals a solution will legislate the relations between citizens within the Borno District. To assist with public health educational facilities will teach students proper hygiene, which will also be enforced.

To assist with containing the spread of these diseases the magistrates within the Borno District must minimalize direct contact between citizens. The use of telephones, cellphones, faxes, mail, and internet are to be encouraged while simultaneously non-essential or non-economically sound public gatherings will be discouraged and the cultural idea of personal relations will be changed. First and foremost the act of sexual intercourse must be mystified and made obscure. The more this topic is brought to the light and educated, the more it is thought about and participated in. This base pleasure must be substituted with others if necessary. Religion will be a sufficient opiate along with various advertising techniques used by Visara. School and work uniforms will be sold by Visara and their usage enforced in all areas controlled by the government or Visara Corporation.

A public awareness campaign will take place notifying the populace of disease spread and appropriate measures required to contain diseases that threaten public health. Visara Corporation will set the example for cleanliness, and government officials are expected to follow suit.

Further measures may be taken by the elected local officials as needed. Should the situation not improve the Federal Government shall supersede local magistrates to re-establish and preserve the health of the citizens of the Patriarchal Federation of Bjornoya.

[Layarteb] The Kaliningradian Defeat

This is a newspaper article from the Layarteb Times, a very well-respected, albeit biased newspaper based out of Layarteb City. They usually slant their stories against the Empire and against the Emperor but what is to be expected from the media.

The Kaliningradian Victory
by Jared Hudson

The war in Kaliningrad is over, they the victor. After almost 9 months of brutal war, which left Kaliningrad City a deserted, torn, and raped shell, the final Layartebian forces have pulled out. The final death toll is uncountable but it is estimated that at least 250,000 of the 968,000 people lie dead with anywhere from 200 - 400 thousand wounded. Nobody was left untouched. Refugees numbering in excess of 125,000 have fled to neighboring countries, only to be forced to return by the allies of the Empire. On the other hand, casualties for the Empire number 5,286.

Nonetheless, is it safe to say that the Kaliningradians were the victors? Their country exists only as smoke, rubble, and bodies. They have retained their sovereignty and will exist as a Republic, with the hope of total independence in the years to come. They have embarrassed the might of the Empire and the Emperor has admitted the mistakes of his campaign.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire of Layarteb. I come before you an apologetic leader. Several months ago we embarked upon a quest to add the territory of Kaliningrad to our Empire. It is with a heavy heart that I announce today that we have failed in our task. Surprisingly heavy resistance from the Kaliningradians have forced us to rethink our position. The last major battle, which ended hours ago, saw the capital city of Kaliningrad reduced to near rubble. Thousands lie dead from both our bombs and from the bombs of the insurgency.

"It is today that I officially announce our withdrawal from the land. The Parliament will be reestablished and the Prime Minister has already agreed to remain as an autonomous republic. They will be granted their independence, de facto as it may, within our Empire to practice their own government, a parliamentary democracy. All Layartebian military units will begin immediate withdrawal and be out within the next month. The House of the Layartebs will be the last abandoned facility and upon our exodus, will remain an unoccupied symbol to all the heroic men who fought for the Empire of Layarteb on our quest.

"It is my wish and hope that all of you look upon this as a mistake that shall not be repeated. Our loss in Kaliningrad does not mean our demise. It will mean our restrengthening. Thank you. Enjoy your night and may the memories of those lost serve with the rest of us forever as they are the true warriors, hopefully not Forgotten Warriors. Good night."

The Emperor's speech, concise and to the point doesn't explain the one thing we all want to know. What effect will this have on the other parts of the Empire, illegally held captive by our government and those countries that are on the chopping block list. Are we an Evil Empire? I ask ye.

Taken from The Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors

17 and Invincible

Please note that as of now all entries will be focused on the individual members of the Chipo family. If you read “New Found Glory” I created numerous characters that display the opposite ends of USB life. There is a soldier, a scholar, an elder, and a mother with a young daughter.

Atif was young only 17 years old yet he was on his own in the big city. In the eyes of a young teenager Windhoek was massive and equally beautiful. The NBA had touched the capitol city first and the impact was vast. Beautiful gardens and glistening buildings lined the people crowded streets. It was on the first cities to be completely modernized, after some 5 years. It is amazing what can be done when people are happy with what they are doing, something his father said never happened before. His father, he thought often about him, and his mother. Where they proud? Did they miss him? It was a painful departure, his mother and sister in tears, their last son off on his own. Sure they were proud; he could tell it from the look of his father. He would make him proud, by god he would!

With his money made from school he purchased a small dank apartment in a complex just blocks from the capitol district. He was on the third story, a pretty decent view he often thought to himself. It wasn’t much but it was his, an accomplishment he could be proud of. It would need fixing up that was for sure but that would come with time. For now he had to get to work, which was at the capitol complex. It wasn’t a very important job, but it paid for his classes. In essence he was an errand boy, an intern if you will. He worked at the Defense Department, overseeing budgets, projects, and the works. He had joked with his brother in a letter that soon he would be his older brother’s boss. He all honesty it could very well happen. He engulfed himself in his surroundings, taking in every possible piece of the city, of the job that he could. Every pore was open to learn and to work, he was in his essence. He did not mock his job, he knew it had to be done, and everyone went through it. The more he worked, the more he studied the faster he’d be calling the shots. When not at work he was at class. Once again the youngest in his class he often proved to be the smartest. With his age came restrictions which were a blessing in disguise. Unable to drink or drive his time was spent mostly with books. His professors didn’t miss a beat either and before he knew it he was working as their assistants learning even more. Before long he would be able to teach but he was getting ahead of himself. He had one thing weighing on his mind, one thing his body was begging for, he needed a girl.

His older brother was dynamite with the ladies, something he always admired. Atif on the other hand had his difficulties. Some were beyond his control, in Windhoek, everyone was older than him. Usually this isn’t a problem when you 20 but at 17 everyone can tell. It bothered him, one thing you could help by studying or working hard.

A Game of Hangman...

Excerpt from the Diary of Duty Guard Robert Nikonedo, Llongwe Correctional Facility 2.

"25th February, 2005.

Dear Life in This Commonwealth.

Only had three today, not too bad. At least I got home before the rush hour started.
The city can be a real bitch of a place after 5pm, with everyone rushing home to family or whatever they do.
Lucy wasn't home yet, she was still working at the INDIAN Plant, the kids were at the Fuhrer Youth. The house was mine.

I sat in the lazy-boy for a while, tried to snooze, but I can never do it when its bright outside. The TV provided some distraction, watching some mid-season sit-com. I still couldn't get the thought of the last guy, No. 22356. The screaming he was doing, would wake the dead.

I think he had raped a few girls, some of them underage. Yeah, I remember watching it on the news, Lucy was sickened, she kept thinking of our daughter, she's still only 11. Thank God the Fuhrer-Youth teaches them what to do if approached by bastards like 22356. His name...Groezin, I think it was. A southern African. Worked for a mining company I think. Looked smug all the time. Like he would be pardoned or something.

Of course that smug grin dissappeared when he saw that breeze block wall and the chip marks from the rifle bullets. He had flinched at the other two getting executed that morning, his Guards had told me that much.

He screamed like a demon as the men tied him to the wall, kept straining against the metal braces. His skin was bleeding where the metal cut him. He was cursing us, looked like he was crying. I couldn't stand for this, the men didn't need any of this. Trained they were, very few made such a fuss as this guy. I clubbed him on the temple with my baton, he just moaned after that.

Then the Head Officer read out the sentence, it was four rapes he committed, two against 14 year old sisters. The Firing Guards had their guns up before I'd even finished shouting it, they fired quicker than ever. The eight bullets cut his midsection open like a tomato, that usually happend.

I released his claps from the control lever and he fell into the wooden coffin at his feet. I walked up to the coffin, and for the first time in this job I was genuninely happy to deliver the coup-de-grace."

Beta Student 5th Grade Exit Exam for the State of Bjornoya Central (Excerpts)

Student: Chelsea Andrea Baum
ID Number: 9320-24601
Date: May 21, 2006
Teacher: Ms. Laree Reginald
School: Maple Elementary
School ID: 2304-10975
Intellectual Ranking:

( ) Alpha
(*)Beta
( ) Gamma
( ) Delta
( ) Epsilon
( ) Zeta
( ) Eta

Final Grade: 88.3%: A-

Beta Student 5^th Grade Exit Exam for the State of Bjornoya Central (Excerpts)

Note to the Student: You are allowed as much time as needed to complete this test. Answer all questions with the utmost honesty and honor. No matter the results of this test you will always be in good care as you have the good fortune to live in The Patriarchal Federation of Bjornoya. These test are meant to help both you and us decided possible future eduction and employment; we hold your health and happiness as a citizen of Bjornoya as our utmost priority. No matter what the results of this test, remember we will always love you.

-The Word

Chemistry:

1) Draw the following compounds:

a) 2-Methylbutane
b) 2,3-Dimethylbutane
c)2,2,3,4-Tetramethylpentane
d) 3,3-Diethylpentane
e) 4-Ethyl-2-hexyne
f) trans 1,1-Dichloro-1-butene
g) 3- Ethylcyclopropene
h) cis- 1,2-Cyclobutanediol

2) Draw all possible Isomers of:

a) C₄H ₉Cl
b) C₃H₇O

3) Predict the most stable chair conformers of 1-Methyl, 4-t-butyl cyclopropane

….. etc.

Biology:

1) Explain the steps required to create a culture of E. coli capable of synthesizing human insulin.

2) Explain the possible environmental effects that would result from the artificial melting of Arctic ice-caps.

3) Using Tsetse flies; graph the possible offspring (4 generations) of a normal male and a female with the recessive gene responsible for the formation of additional eyes on the organism.

4) Give the Binomial name of each of the following organisms:

a) Siberian Tiger
b) North American Rattlesnake
c) Ostrich
d) European mantis
e) Coconut Palm
f) Curled Parsley
g) Pygmy Blue Whale
h) Human (modern)
i) Atlantic Giant Squid

..…etc.

Physics:

1) A cannon is fired at 60 degree to the ground at the edge of a cliff 40 m tall. The cannonball’s initial velocity is 90 m/s.

a) How much time does the ball spend in the air?
b) How far does it land from the cliff?

2) A 2-kg block is released 4 m from a massless spring with a force constant k = 100 N/m that is along a plane inclined at 30 degrees.

a) If the plane is frictionless, find the maximum compression of the spring
b) If the coefficient of kinetic friction between the plane and the block is .2, find the maximum compression.

3) Two 100-kg boxes are dragged along a frictionless surface with a constant acceleration of 1.0 m/s² . Each rope has a mass of 1-kg. Find the force F and the tension in the ropes where they are connected to the boxes.

….etc.

Mathematics:

1) Give the derivatives of the following functions:

a) f(x) = 2x⁴ + 3x³ – x²
b) f(x) = (x³ + 3x² – x)/( x² + 3x)
c) f(x) = tan(x²)
d) f(x) = sin^-1( 1/3x²)
e) f(x) = 3/(5x⁵ - 3x³ + x)

2) Give the indefinite integrals of the following functions:

a) f(x) = ln(x)
b) f(x) = -cos(x²)
c) f(x) = 5x³ + 2x² + x
d) f(x) = 1/2x²
e) f(x) = csc(3x²)

…..etc.

Literature:

Choose and construct an essay based on one of the following topics. Essays may be written directly on your computers and submitted to your teachers through the BIN.

1) Compare and contrast Plato’s Republic with the Bjornoyan Federal Government. In what ways does the Bjornoyan government embody some of the Platonic ‘Noble Myths?’ Compare Plato’s class structure with the class structure being formed within Bjornoya.

2) Compare and contrast Aristotelian ethics as presented in The Politics with the moral system currently enacted by the Bjornoyan Federal Government. In what light does Aristotle view equality, and in what ways if any does the Bjornoyan Federal Government differ?

..…etc.

New Found Glory

A cool wind blew across the desert, unusual for its location. Chemwapuwa Chipo glanced up, the wind blowing fine sand into the crevices of his face. He was older with deep eyes and a stone forehead. His hair was just starting to grey, age taking hold. He did however remain strong, his endless hours under the South African sun toughing his body to perfection. It all seemed a thing of the past though, the endless hours that it. Not since the new government had taken control had he worked 13 hour days. He liked his new land, his new life. He smiled at himself wincing as another gust of wind blew sand into his eyes. Night was falling and the sun was dropping behind a thick layer of clouds across the horizon. Work would soon be nearing an end and he would return home to his family, with money, with dignity, and with smile across his face, something unknown in an earlier life.

Chipo had two sons and a daughter who was the youngest at age three. His oldest son who was 5 years his second sons senior, had joined the army. It was not forced; it was strictly by choice with sat well with old Chipo. His son, Kagiso, was 22. Kagiso was assigned to the 1st Army, 11th Division but had transferred to the 20th Airborne for a more desirable challenge. Chipo took much pride in this often bragging to friends at work. His other son was away at school in Windhoek. He excelled at school during his junior years and a telegram came from the Capitol itself asking if he had wanted to come and study among the nations elite. Obviously his mother had objected but even she knew it was an opportunity not to be passed up. Windhoek offered some of the best schools in the world, it was the governments first priority. Again something that made old Chipo smile. Under the old government, Zeeeland Government, school had not even been on the agenda. Chipo could hardly read, his son had taught him the best he could. He had missed out on so much the world had to offer but it didn’t stop him from taking advantage of his new opportunities to allow his children to do what he missed out on. He wrote back often, loving every minute of it. The parents awaited everyday a new letter from one of the two sons. It was a joy one could not imagine. Eidi was only three yet one could already tell she would be beautiful. She had deep dark skin with even wider green eyes. Unlike her two brothers she was quiet, hardly ever crying. She spent the day with her mother who was in her prime when with children. Nothing but laughter emitted from her room. With the two sons out of the house there was more than enough room for the remaining three. Nevertheless it was still small, but that would change. Both sons were sending home money, and Chipo was making ten times what he used to for the same job. He worked in the city of Ondangwa as part of a construction team. President Ovambo had created a new program to help bring the nation out of poverty and provide jobs lost during the crash. It was called the National Beautification Act or NBA. The country had more than enough funds to modernize the nation and that’s just what they planned to do. Chipo was part of a team that helped clean the cities and create parks, irrigation, gardens, and plumbing. It was part of a larger program designed to rebuild the nation’s infrastructure.

He pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead that was beginning to bead up. He looked around him, everybody was packing up, heading home. They each nodded at him as they strolled by. He was the old one he though to himself. He continued, it is your turn now. Don’t you let this slip away, this is freedom, this is what it is like to live.

Hirgizstanian Writings.

These writings will tend to be about different experiences of life in the Commonwealth, ranging from politicians to soldiers to kids. Each will provide a unique insight into daily life inside the Commonwealth, in different places around the globe.

My Duty. Part One.

Excerpts from the Journal of Sgt. Mitch Konugu, State Police, Zambia.

"At night Lusaka seems docile, almost reverend. The big HMC Roadtrain truck commands a fairly big prescence. So it should. In the daytime people wave at me behind the wheel, stop and talk to me and my team. The Public Order Teams are all over the city most of the time, just like we are. Last night I was out with two rookies and another Sergeant, it was Friday.

The beat cops and Inspectors we were checking in with were fairly happy, nothing seemed to be happening in the city. Then, as closing time approaches, all the night-clubs begin to empty. The young people poured out of their haunts in their new clothes, some stumbling about.

It was time to show the two rookies what we do. I drove the Roadtrain into the crowds and everyone, as usual, stayed well away from the talk, hell, some of the young people don't even look me in the eye, they avert their gaze. I love my job.

As usual a fight broke out near a trendy new dance club a couple of hundred metres away from us, and we waded through the crowd, our riot gear making it easy. The crowd dispersed around the fight and the purps, we hurled them back toward the Roadtrain, tazered them and chucked them into the rear holding pen. The rookies were loving every minute.

Maybe tomorrow we'll get to do something more interesting than locking up drunks. But then again, no one wants to put a foot wrong these days, otherwise the Police take everything. My first night as a rookie I'd helped arrest a gang of Marijuana dealers. Three of the biggest in the suburbs of Lusaka, each one of them would die for their crimes, and they actually resisted arrest like the devil was in them. Nobody wants to step on the wrong side of the law these days. "

Cymrean Posts

My blog entries here will be a series of entires accounting the goings on within and surrounding Cymrea, and some back story on the nation's founder. Posts will generally appear as first- or third-person narratives, intended to be contributive to Earth II.

All of my posts here will originate with my own blog here: www.cymrea.blogspot.com.

I heartily welcome your comments and I hope you enjoy reading my work.

The Llywellyn Chronicle: Dark Duty - Part II

12 January 1983
How he was talked into actually leading this operation was beyond Davyd Llywellyn. No. That was not entirely true. It was that bastard Brigadier Richards and his blood-freezing stare. Now, Llywellyn found himself promoted to Captain and in charge of the Wraiths – a Welsh special operations unit – for Operation Asp.

"Black Team is in position now, sir," said the sergeant looking through the night-vision binoculars, crouched next to him.

Llywellyn peeked over the hill as if to confirm this with his own eyes. Though at a distance of five hundred metres, trying to pick out details with the unaided eye was an exercise in futility.

"It’s about time," Llywellyn whispered. "Signal Red Team to take aim at these coordinates." Llywellyn doled the numbers out, one by one, ensuring that they were understood by having Red Team repeat them back. Once they were confirmed, Llywellyn began slithering down the hill they were situated on, not waiting for the sergeant.

"Where to, Captain?" Llywellyn’s partner asked in a nearly inaudible whisper at his shoulder; he had caught up most efficiently and was pacing Llywellyn. Ignoring the man, Llywellyn led them swiftly through the grounds, utilizing the trees for cover. A patrol chopper sent them into the shadows twice along the way, but it was loud enough that they had plenty of time to conceal themselves once they had heard it. When they reached their destination, Llywellyn signalled for a halt.

"Assemble the rifle, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

Taking the headset from his partner, Llywellyn settled into position. The sergeant finished his assembly work and assumed a prone firing position as Llywellyn commanded readiness acknowledgments from his teams one last time. He checked his chrono.

"Red Team, stand ready to fire."

Around a corner, leading into the ruler’s residence, came a line of Hummers and SUVs – the Hyperbian leader’s motorcade. The third Hummer came into view.

"Now!" Llywellyn rasped into the headset. From somewhere in the garden near the front entrance came a volley of RPG fire. The SUV in front of the third Hummer and the two vehicles behind it exploded in a shower of metal and fire, effectively blockading the target vehicle. The follow-up small arms fire from Black Team peppered the Hummer, drawing out the soldiers inside. Exactly as predicted.

Reinforcements formed up from the following vehicles and moved into the garden with alarming alacrity to extinguish the assault. One soldier, dressed in Hyperbian army officer combat fatigues, emerged from the Hummer and opened fire in the direction of Black Team, using the door for cover.

Visible through the flaming wreckage of the vehicle in front of the Hummer, and through the now-open door, was the Hyperbian leader.

"Fire," ordered Llywellyn.

The Llywellyn Chronicle: Dark Duty

26 December 1982
Deep inside the military headquarters of the 5th Division, a tall officer approached a non-descript and unguarded door. Waving his ID card in front of the scanner, Lieutenant Davyd Gruffudd Llywellyn waited for the door to open.

The room appeared to be a large office, fugaciously decorated. In the centre was a large desk and behind it was the only person Llywellyn would ever admit to being afraid of.

Henry Richards looked up from the computer screen, fixing Llywellyn with a piercing, one-eyed gaze. The other eye was covered by a patch the colour of dried blood, affixed with three screws embedded in the bone around Richards’ socket. Llywellyn got the distinct feeling, as he always did in Richards’ presence, that that gaze had him weighed and measured, and found barely adequate.

"You have a report, lef-tenant?" The rank was pronounced after the fashion of the British Commonwealth.

"Yes, Brigadier. From the Wraiths in Hyperbia. They confirm receipt of two hundred CR-08 rifles."

"Traceable?" Richards’ gravelly voice carried a rising menace, promising great suffering for an unfavourable response.

Llywellyn swallowed in spite of himself. "No, sir. The weapons were routed through some of the more, shall we say, anarchic nationstates. Our support will not be traced without alerting us to the effort – an effort we would squash."

Richards returned his gaze to his computer, effectively dismissing Llywellyn. The lieutenant was more than amenable to taking the opportunity to leave.

Once back in the corridor, safely on his way back to the upper levels, Llywellyn’s fear abated and his ambition reasserted itself. He had once hoped to work closely with the formidable Brigadier Richards, to benefit from Richards’ knowledge and experience. Now, Llywellyn hoped to one day supplant him. Such was an accepted method of advancement in the Wraiths.

But that concern was for another day; today, Llywellyn needed to coordinate the placement of special forces operatives from Wales into Hyperbia. A supply depot had been raided and punishment had to be meted out. Perhaps the messy destruction of a few public buildings would be sufficient to send the message to the Hyperbian leader - his time in office was over and his succession was overdue.

The Journal of Dunsimi Kosoko: Entry 1

The Journal of Dunsimi Kosoko:

I write this from the dank and desolate basement of my home as it is the closest form of privacy I can comfortably come by nowadays. Finding a supply of paper and ink independent of Visara was somewhat difficult but manageable. I fear they might monitor such activities as using paper and pen has become 'archaic.' The omnipresent Bjornoyan Federal Government in conjunction with that damnable Visara Corporation goes so far as to require us to digitize all of our government paperwork to ‘increase efficiency.’ I’ve known two of my fellow citizens who foolishly wrote criticisms of the corporation on their computers and found themselves ‘transferred’ within a week. Freedom of speech, but not freedom of employment… I’ve yet to hear from them since, and I fear the worst.

This white plague that has befallen upon us is by far the most bewildering and confusing epidemics my people and I have ever had to endure. I suppose this is some sort of Divine punishment for our previous failures. Before the Bjornoyans arrived Nigeria was torn apart by our own people. Fulani, Calabar, Opobo, Bonny, Brass, Ijaw, Efik, Igbo, and Ibibio, countless tribes feuded amongst themselves like barbarians. The horrors of that era I do not wish to and cannot healthy dwell upon. They are now dead and gone partly in thanks to the Bjornoyan Peacekeepers. Although countless lives were lost during their occupation their belief in hierarchy and willingness to remove the most worthless and sick members from the rest of society proved invaluable. I myself had the pleasure of seeing the gang who raped and murdered my wife, God rest her soul, shot before a Federal Peacekeeping brigade. At that moment they were my heroes, the saviors we had wanted for so many years. I cannot believe how naïve I was.

That spirit of order and their condescending view of us continued. I am shamed by the actions of my people, both before the conflict and during the Bjornoyafication process. Their silent and sub-conscious view of us as vicious, violent beast was continuously proven correct by some of our citizens’ attempts to resist the Bjornoyan occupation who murdered many Peacekeepers and Bjornoyans shipped from their mainland to help Bjornificate our nation. After an incident where 12 Bjornoyan teachers were kidnapped and killed the Patriarch gave Visara complete authority over our region. The just Federal Peacekeepers, however mistaken in their intentions, were replaced by silent, soulless Visara Corporation Security Forces. I cannot count how many people simply have disappeared from my jurisdiction since their arrival, but Visara’s claim to our land and with it us as employees has led to bizarre and inhumane situations. The Bjornoyans are so incredibly clever as well; they never kill anybody simply ‘relocate’ them to prison/mining sites or re-education centers. I’ve seen the most ardent Nigerian nationalists come out of one of Visara’s Educational Facilities as Bjornoyan as an ostrich egg within a month. Not only that, but Visara sends these newly trained employees who have become loyal to the company out amongst us. They walk with the suspicious, the poor, and the downtrodden citizens and ask if they would like to participate in sabotage against Visara. When they inevitably reply ‘yes’ a dozen Visara security Forces pop out of no-where and take him away. The citizen is charged of betraying the company, and given the same treatment as his bait: the process continues. Eventually we have learned to distrust anyone who speaks against Visara, further complicating organization and sowing the seeds of mistrust amongst all of our citizens. This mistrust and suspicion is becoming the only thing universal about us. I can’t say it is entirely Visara’s fault as I have seen this behavior in all free-market economies, universal greed and selfishness as a means of acquiring vast wealth and power. I look back at the days of our tribal warring and this brave new world and wonder which should be preferred.

Resistance to Visara has become even unhealthier as it continues to absorb Nigerian businesses into itself. Its complete monopoly on agriculture alone has enslaved our larger cities. Food must be purchased with earned Gelds from grocery stores. Working for Visara is the only way to earn Bjornoyan Gelds and spending Gelds on grocery stores owned by Visara is the only way to acquire food. It is an inescapable and eternal cycle. The small towns such as Ngala where I governor have yet to be fully integrated into Visara’s clutch, and I am trying to figure a way out of this slavery that is economic freedom.

I am torn, Visara offers government officials such as me security and health benefits beyond anything I could have possibly expected 10 years ago. It has promised not only to offer me security, but to offer my children a chance to become high-ranking employees of Visara as well. I look at what remains of my family, I think of my dead wife... I want to give them the best this world can offer. Sadly I must turn to this corporate Leviathan. Then I turn to my people who have elected me, who trust me to protect them and I don’t know who I must help, my children or my people. God help me.

Of course all of this will fall on deaf ears, Visara owns all lines of communication and as such none of the outside world that I know of is aware of our plight. Hell, I don't know what goes on in the outside world at all. From what I've heard their news-broadcasts depict us as a joyful, happy people. Damn them.

I must go, my working shift starts in 2 minutes and they will wonder where I was should I not be on the clock.

Esthar National Zoo

I will probably post as two main personas. The first will be Chelsea Baum, an 11 year old girl living in a suburb of Bjornoya's capital, Esthar. The second will be Dunsimi Kosoko, a Federal officer elected as the mayor of Ngala, a small town in northeast Nigeria.


Dear Diary,

Today my daddy and I went to the National Zoo in Esthar. It was so pretty! All the buildings in Esthar are light blue, and they're so big. Driving down the streets we saw lots of people in uniforms. They stood outside of the blue buildings and didn't talk to anyone. My daddy told me that he thinks they are really weird, but that we shouldn't say anything.

At the zoo it took us forever to find a parking spot, but it was ok cause I got to listen to some of my favorite music. I don't like a lot of the music that we can buy here, but some of the rock n' roll CDs we play are really good. I don't understand what they're saying, but it makes me feel like singing and dancing. Of course I'd never try that in front of other people, I'd look so silly. Daddy said people used to get paid a lot of money to sing and dance before the revolution. Now the people who create music don't get paid as much as they used to, my daddy said. I listened to some of the new music, and it sounded very boring. There were pianos and violins and harps... the music made me either want to sleep or march.

But anyway, we got to the zoo and saw the weird guys in funny uniforms. Daddy reminded me not to say anything around them, and I was quiet. Daddy paid for our tickets with his credit card and we walked through the metal gates. I was so excited, the first thing we could see were monkeys. They were really funny, and everyone was laughing at them. They combed through each other’s hair: grooming they called it, and they ate bugs! How gross! Some of them had bright red butts too. A boy next to me was really unlucky, one of the monkeys started screeching really loud and banging on the cage. Then he jumped up into a tree, wiped his butt with his hand, and threw poop out of the cage. The little boy next to me got hurt and started to cry. The boy's mother was very shocked. Daddy quickly picked me up and carried me away from the cage as the weird guys in uniforms ran to the monkey's cage. They went inside and captured the monkey with a net. We did not see what happened but they brought the monkey to a place behind the cage we could not see. I looked back at the boy before we left, he had stopped crying and I was glad he wasn't hurt. I saw he had poop all over his face, and I giggled.

Along the way we saw a whole bunch of animals that not even my daddy had seen before. Elephants, ostriches, lions, rhinos, and hippos were all in the zoo. Daddy said they were brought here from a place called Africa which is really far away. I wonder if they ever miss their homes.

We also saw some really cute bears that spent their time prowling back and forth in their cages. It looked kinda like they were dancing, and I laughed. We also saw a really rare creature called a Black Rhinoceros. Daddy said that the people in Africa hunted them until there were only a very few left, extinction! I don't like the way African people do things. I hope they don't treat everything as mean as they treat those poor Rhinos.

But my favorite part of the trip was being able to see the Chocobo at the Petting Zoo. It was by far the cutest animal I saw at the zoo. It was tall, fluffy with feathers, and had a round beak. And it smiled! Unlike the ostriches they don't have ugly necks and legs cause they got lots of feathers to keep them warm. The chocobo in the zoo was named Chester and he was dark blue. I got to feed him some corn. His tongue felt really slippery and tickled.

Before we left I asked my daddy if we could get some ice-cream, and he went up to one of the booths and we got some. Next to the booth was another weird looking person in uniform who stood very quietly and never said anything. I was kinda nervous and as I started eating my ice cream the whole thing fell off and to the ground. I looked at the ice-cream and felt really bad, then the weird looking guy in uniform stated moving towards me. I got scared and almost cried, but I held onto my daddy's leg. The man in uniform picked up the ice-cream from the ground with a scooper and put it in the trash. Then he went to the booth and got an ice-cream. I thought he was hungry, but he got close to the ground and handed it to me. I was really nervous but the man smiled. I never saw one of the people in uniforms smile before. I said "Thank you," and he said, "You're welcome, but this time sweet-heart be very careful OK?"

I enjoyed my favorite 'gold medal ribbon' as we left the zoo. We got home after another long drive and I finally got to see mommy. She always gets home a bit later than daddy from the Ministry of Truth. Mommy said her hands and back hurt so I gave her a massage. Daddy fixed us some really good hamburgers, and I got to have mine with fresh cheddar cheese too.

I'm going to get changed soon and go to bed, hope to talk to you soon diary! LOL.

Love,
Chelsea Baum

[Layarteb] My Worst Fear

Here is my introduction. The Layarteb posts will feature news articles, diary/journal entries, and other various first-hand accounts of life within the Empire, within the military, within the outside, etc. It will feature accounts, first-hand, from people both in opposition and in favor to the Empire. I hope you enjoy reading them.

Journal Entry from SFC. Thomas
21, August 2005


I can't stand this damn jungle anymore. There are snakes everywhere, scorpions, things the size of my boot. It's probably the worst, shittiest place in the world and I'm stuck here. Only 19, I know I have to do my two years' service but I never imagined it would be in this hell hole. The Yucatán, who even cares if some backwards, native scum want to leave the Empire. This is a pointless fight if I didn't say so myself.

Yesterday Melvin took a hit to the back from a sniper. We never got the SOB but Melvin died there, bled out on the jungle floor. MedEvac took forever to get there. They said they came under heavy fire. I doubt it. There's no point to this nonsense.

Today we're going to hit a supply dump, a dump it is. We'll go in low, insert by Black Hawk, and attack with rifles, grenades, and SLATDWs. They told us there might be a few jeeps there, maybe we can steal a few for the time being. Air support is only going to be the four Black Hawks, armed with the M74A1 Miniguns. I have to say, despite the shortcomings, when those boys are overhead I feel safe and secure. Those fuckers pour out 6,000 rounds per minute, they just empty into the bad guys and we're safe they can't shoot them down.

Oh fuck...gunshots...

Taken from La Guerra que no Hombre Debe Saber

E2 Blogs: A Summary

For most of our activities in E2 we focus from a quasi-omniscient point-of-view, relating ourselves to our nations (i.e. I am Bjornoya) However this fails to address the finer aspects of E2, that is seeing the world through the eyes of the average citizen. As much as we love to play war and dabble in other such crisis for dramatic and RPing purposes, our citizens (if we can put ourselves in their shoes) would be absolutely horrified by their surroundings if they have not been completely desensitized to them yet.

It is here that we may closer examine the possible mindsets of the many individuals within our society. Teachers, soldiers, policemen, businessmen, librarians, doctors, mechanics... the list goes on and on. Feel free to try and interpret the artificial environment that is E2 from an imaginary persona.

Rules:
Being the moderator I reserve the right to censor any and all material posted here. I will not tolerate incivility and barbarism including graphic violence or sexual content, personal insults, spamming, flaming, or trolling.