God Forsaken People[RETCONNED| - THE WEST COAST - ]

[Viridisolum]

THE REGION OF WEST VIRIDISOLUM
VMMBC National Subdivision Office

VMMBC National Subdivision Office, Fuine

Chief Executive Officer of Viridisian Mass Media Broadcasting Corporation Wellin Tyame I.O.L Retrai made a contract with The Atlas Diaries for VMMBC to produce a film documentary on Grand Confederate Republic of the West Coast. Wellin allocated and prepared one of VMMBC Studios' directors, producers, screenplay writers, narrator, composers, cinematographers and editors best for the task at hand. He expected the documentary would be only a travelogue and hoped it was. But he thought it is most likely almost impossible since the West Coast is not an appropriate or maybe even a safe country for tourists, at least in his mind as he only sees them as the last place tourists, out of all Atlasian states, would even consider going. He is aware that there are those who really visit that country but is it widely unbelievable for somebody to do since humanity does not weigh in the minds of West Coast Confederates, probably some but then in a country like the West Coast majority rules.

VMMBC CEO Wellin Retrai inquired and asked more information from The Atlas Diaries about the documentary on the West Coast Confederate Republic. He did not take well what they answered in reply to his questions. They attempted to calm him down and assure him that all the rumours circulating around the West Coast on what they do to foreign media when they criticize the Confederate State are "sheer nonsense" and that this documentary would be "worth millions of universal dollars and commendable to the world of journalism and the Viridisian information industry." Wellin was persuaded to be calm but demanded that they "should pay for transportation and 'insurance' in case the West Coast Documentary Project failed to launch or to benefit VMMBC." His demands were accepted and plans of production continued

"In GodSlavery We Trust" will be the documentary's name behind the guise "Travel Where To: The West Coast" and that it will be produced in a manner a travelogue is done but it will secretly criticize the West Coast's lawful practice of slavery once filming is done.

CEO Wellin Retrai sent his program director overseeing the documentary's future slots in VMMBC 1 and VMMBC Venture channels, Janister Ferdoha Fikalstania Jr., to go to the West Coast Confederate Republic Embassy in Imperial Henstrakon to obtain entry and filming permits. Instead of Wellin's main office at the Worldwide Headquarters of VMMBC, he went to VMMBC West Viridisolum National Subdivision Office because Wellin was staying at the West Viridisolum Regional Capital of Fuine, following an inspection of their national subdivision office in this western region of Viridisolum, as he cannot return to Henstrakon until tomorrow. Janister is tired but in triumphant loss.

"God damn the youth . . . Tsk, oh . . . Good evening boss, here's the permits we need in order to disembark for the 'Hell on Atlas.'" Janister smiled begrudgingly. He held out two dossiers with a black and white insignia of the West Coast Confederate Republic.

"How could those students stay there in almost every day when there are classes they need to attend to? They can't live in this world without those. I wouldn't be in this job if I didn't. Anyways, our concern is that you made it and that you brought what need for the production." Wellin nodded at Janister and took the dossiers, placing it out of sight in his desk.

"You couldn't believe what I saw at the Confederate Embassy, do you want to hear what's been up for almost FIVE hours in there?" Frowned Janister waiting for a reply from Wellin who was raising his right eyebrow, "It was the most unpleasant of all places, that embassy, I had to wait for two and a half hours to get in and another to get out just because some wishy-washy, peace sucking dopes and their children are sitting in every inch and occupying anywhere and ANYTHING within their reach including the trees, lampposts, and the FLAG POLE. They were hanging from above! And I've seen enough what teenagers, my eldest in particular, watched in their beds in secrecy to stay normal at the sight of those 'pink fleshy' and 'deviant black thingy' picket signs."

"I haven't said anything in reply yet you proceeded into talking about it." Wellin took a television remote control and pointed at a flat screen television suspended against his office wall, behind his desk.

A map of Atlas appears on the television screen then the letters "V", "M", "M", "B", and "C" emerges separated by periods.

"We interrupt this and following programs to bring you this news flash." A robotic masculine voice announced through the screen.

The screen transitioned to a two-minute video clip of people scattered across the West Coast Confederate Embassy, mostly sitting on the ground or dangling from high places. Then images of men and women from the Imperial Henstrakon Police were shown standing guard outside and inside the Embassy. There were policemen also in the Embassy's entrances and exists.

"A group of citizens consisting of human rights activists, college and high school students instigated yet another addition to the weekly sit-ins at the West Coast Confederate Embassy, this time unlike other groups within its walls. Law enforcement and diplomatic security agreed to monitor but not curtail the activities of demonstrators in order to reassure Confederate officials at the Embassy and at the West Coast and keep order in the Embassy and the area. In other news-" A soft feminine voice narrated, interjected by Wellin after he turned it off with a push of the red button on his remote.

"Now, my problems was that our director backed out and I had to go through ten of ours and nobody accepted until this indie movies guy came, three of our film crews refused and threatened to expose this to the public but I got one eventually whom I negotiated for hazard pay and an advance just to get them there, the rest asked what our film crew had. In the end it costs me nearly a million dollars. That's almost half of our daily earnings and so we should spare no expense once we arrive . . . In the bright side I've asked The Atlas Diaries to pay for lodgings as well as I did what our three, most honourable and humble, film crews did to us." Wellin's face shifted from blank to a devious smirk.

"That's nowhere near to what I've experienced."

"Yeah, yeah, to you it isn't, to me it is so don't start an argument. Now where were we?"

"Well none but I-"

"Good, it's getting late Janister so we must go to our homes and sleep." Wellin took his black lounge suit jacket and his overcoat at his coat rack. He then wore them swiftly and scurried to his briefcase and into his office door.

"Um . . . Good night then, sir. See you tomorrow at Edric Skaran the Third." Janister said sheepishly before yawning out of exhaustion.

"Of course, to see off our brave men and women off to the West Coast and ensure that our assets and project are ensured ‘except, hopefully, the liabilities.’ Good night and God save our Sovereign."

“God save them all in that hell hole.” Janister murmured to himself.

[-The West Coast-]

In black ink the newspaper’s headline loudly asked:

“FOREIGNERS HERE? WHO ARE THEY; WHAT DO THEY WANT?”

The airport was isolated and empty. It was locked down and guarded by tan men wearing dark charcoal colored uniforms. They stood (stone-faced) watching over every nook and cranny of the massive airport. They were indifferent statues in every terminal, every food court, and every store. The only noise that betrayed the petrifying silence of the massive airport were the children (of the most powerful couple in the Confederacy) playing together with a cheery faced cocker spaniel.

They were watched over by the stone-faced soldiers identical to those scattered across the airport, along with an older looking man and a middle-aged woman wearing a modest haircut and a gray and gold conservative dress that matched her husband’s ornate uniform.

The floor-to-ceiling windows the couple looked through painted a landscape dominated by snow-capped peaks and black asphalt runways that were absolutely devoid of jetliners. In the distance there was a black speck descending closer and closer to the empty runways and the couple shifted excitedly in their seats, turning their children’s attention from the slobbering dog toward the window and the ever larger black spot. Several guards broke their stalwart vigil and left the room, while new guards brushed past them and stepped into place and hardened into statues.

“Children, right there is an airplane full of men and women from far beyond the horizon. Would you like to meet these strangers? We’ll understand if you’re both too nervous.” The older man tapped his lap and the young boy stood, dressed in a uniform much like his father’s, and crawled onto his lap, while his sister slid onto the seat next to her mother and laid against her. “We’re a little nervous ourselves. The last foreigners we’ve seen were when we were very young; like you.”

The children stared up at their mother, wide-eyed. Before the children could speak, a soldier stepped in and knelt beside the older man and whispered in his ear something that made the man pick his son up and set him down next to the sleeping cocker spaniel. “Mercy, we must accompany the welcoming parade down to the terminal.” He turned to his children now as his wife stood and primped herself in front of her hand mirror.

“Would you like to come?” He asked them, with both hands outstretched towards them. They ran to grab his hands and he laughed loud enough for it to echo around the small room. Several soldiers departed first and marched down the empty hallways in front of the family as they made their way down to the runway where the black speck against the sky had turned into a luxurious jetliner that had just finished taxying and the doors became to drop to the ground and into stairs.

A red carpet was unfurled and a band of young men in butternut uniforms began playing the Confederate national anthem with great zeal. Flanking the old man, his wife and children (who were seated on a platform of teak wood and butternut and gray bunting and a large Confederate flag directly behind them) were members of the Hall of Confederates and the House of Forefathers, fidgeting eagerly in their comfortable, anxious to see the first foreigners in generations.

The cocker spaniel rolled at the feet of the children, gnawing on a heavy bone and rubbing up against the children’s swaying feet while the band finished playing and took up another patriotic Confederate song while a man with a heavy drawl announced the arrival of the foreigners to all present on the runway.

[Viridisolum]

THE WEST COAST GRAND CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC
Blackmore Air Facility

Orenair - Sde Dov Airlines Flight 440, an Airbus A321, landed in one of the runways of Blackmore Air Facility and had become the first airliner of Orenair to land on the West Coast Grand Confederate Republic. The flight lasted for a day. It's passengers lasted however for another day after two transfer flights; using Western Airlines from Fuine, the Region of West Viridisolum to Dunham-Horlox, Allied States of the Western Vale Confederacy; then Orenair from there to Cahawba, the Capital of West Coast. Orenair Flight 440 is only leased to His Imperial Majesty's Government in Viridisolum since no airline outside the West Coast flew in there and that Orenair is the only airline who agreed to have one of their airplanes to be utilized in bringing Viridisian journalists to the West Coast and back home when the production is done within this year. The Viridisian Imperial Government can easily use one of its airplanes in His Imperial Majesty's Government Flight Service although it would suggest state interference on the media.

Casurt-Viridisian Journalist Miss Ami "Amy" Burilpno of the Viridisian Mass Media Broadcasting Corporation from VMMBC Learning Channel, notably the travel documentary series "Travel Where To", walked down first before everybody else working with her in the production of In GodSlavery We Trust. Miss Ami is escorted by a serviceman from His Imperial Majesty's Navy, who was tasked to ensure and be responsible for her and others' safety aboard the airplane, who will also work on the VMMBC production in the West Coast Republic, yet to go out and step unto West Coast Confederate territory prolonged by paranoia caused by rumours and popular cultural belief about the West Coast originating from its infamous practice of slavery.

His Imperial Majesty's Ministry of the Crown for Foreign Affairs, Culture Department II are concerned of the unpredictability of the Confederate Government, fearing for the lives of Viridisians in West Coast Republic soil including tourists and overseas workers despite their numbers dwindling for the past five decades due to either the late realization of the West Coast Confederates' Draconian policies and collective inhumane degradation on their country's racial minorities, treating them like pet animals equally worst as Nazi Germany did to theirs. Although this is their truth but other countries' truth regarding Confederate Slavery varies, one would wage war for the sake of the Confederate Slaves, one would condemn, and one would support or even praise. Most countries would do the former than the latter two, at least as a dream that it can be done one day.

The Production's film crew which consisted of Director Gori Farak, First Assistant Director Kile Hua Gyni, Second Assistant Director Hamen Vande Jr., Assistant Accountant Ama Werelt Edina F. Zaxac, Assistant Location Manager Luc Eliyah Goporse, Location Scout Jon Kenet Gilian, Location Assistant Eli Kagami F. Den, Director of Photography Jude Louis R. Walker and the rest of the Camera & Lighting Department. Other members of the Production Department stayed at the Homeland, finally got out of their chairs and stepped off the airplane as Miss Ami and the Viridisian Imperial Navy serviceman approached the platform.

"Hello by the way, I'm Ami Burilpno. Do you watch V.M.M.B.C. Learning?" greeted Amy, keeping a close distance with the VIA serviceman to get rid of her expectations of the worst to happen in their stay in the West Coast, "You can call me Amy or Miss Burilpno, either way, what's your name, sir? I haven't heard your name when you were introduced by the Ministry to be our companion in this venture." Amy asked.

"Lieutenant Peter Vildan, ma'am, of His Imperial Majesty's Army in Viridisolum." Lieutenant answered.

"I'm aware of that as your uniform shows it anyway, except the fact that you are a lieutenant. I can't tell rank insignias unfortunately so please excuse me for that . . . What do you think of these West Coast Confederates? You must especially know since you're a soldier, sir, with all due respect."

"Ma'am, as much as I would like to tell my allegiance, or should I say service, prohibits me from saying my opinion to anybody regarding certain subjects, such as what you've asked, while I am in His Imperial Majesty's service overseas, particularly to a person with the likes of you."

"As expected, I understand . . . You don't want to talk much do you, Lieutenant?"

"What do you think ma'am?" Lieutenant sternly asked.

Not much of a talker indeed Miss Ami smiled in reply to Lieutenant Vildan's question while doing so in her thoughts.

Ambassador to the West Coast for His Imperial Majesty's Government in Viridisolum Willam Petir A. Korsk, a short stout old man with greying hair, skin and eyes, stand by waiting for the incoming Viridisian journalists down below in the tarmac rather than being amongst "demons", as he privately called the Confederates, up high in the platform. Viridisian Ambassador to the West Coast William Korsk is in a brown lounge suit adorned by a green string tie and two flag lapel pins: the National Flag of Viridisolum is pinned on the upper portion of the left lapel and the Imperial Banner of the Empire of Valaran is directly under the bottom of the Viridisian National Flag. Beside him stand Father Zachary Anthony Weller, middle aged and tall wearing a black cassock, pellegrina, and a fascia adorned only by a clerical collar. He holds and fondles a plastic rosary in his hands, his blue eyes refusing to look at anybody but the ground.

Miss Ami is a young woman devoid of expression wearing a blue overcoat and shoulder cape. Her hair is black and her eyes are green. Her skin, like her face, is also devoid of colour and is completely white in spite of her journeys across the North Cetlasi Federation and the Commonwealth Union of Allied and Associated States where weather contrasted every time she flies to another country and exploring its territories for the amusement of VMMBC Learning Channel target audience and its executives concerned as well. Her beauty seems to withstand her expressionless face well enough to be noticed.

Lieutenant Divlan is a tall man who appears to be bulky and is neither young nor old. He has managed to maintain physical reminders of his youth, notably his face, regardless of the stress he had experienced in the VIA. His eyes and hair is brown and his skin is fairly white, covered by a black beret superimposed by the Imperial Insignia of the Empire of Valaran and a black single-breasted tunic along with black trousers and black leather shoes.

"Greetings, I assume that you are Miss Ami Burilpno of V.M.M.B.C. the Learning Channel's Travel Where To?" Willam greeted to Amy as he saluted at Lieutenant, who saluted back at him.

"Yes, Your Excellency, I am. It's V.M.M.B.C. Learning Channel though, sir, not The Learning Channel. I'm afraid TLC is an American channel." Amy smiled and laughed shortly after a handshake and a deep curtsy.

"Ah, forgive me Miss Burilpno. I never took time to browse information about American media. It's not needed after all in my occupation. Oh, let me introduce to you Father Zachary Weller, the priest leading our embassy chapel in Cahawba. He's been for a year now after Father Kion went home to seek 'better medical services.' Father Kion planned to go back but his condition stops him from coming here again."

"Hello, Father Weller," curtsied Amy as she took Father Weller's right hand to perform a handshake, "Better medical services? I believe these people can provide that also." Lieutenant nodded at Father Weller, nodding too in return.

"We all know why he couldn't. He simply cannot be with these people. I can't tell you more at this time or else Satan's spawns will play us into consequences of a terrifying degree." Willam whispered to Amy.

"Very well then, now, shall we meet our distinguished hosts? They must be waiting for us there in the stand. Me, the N.C.F., the C.U.A.A.S. and the rest of Atlas can't wait to see furthermore of the West Coast." Amy grinned.