The Bullionist [Regional News]

[Lotheringia]

Impartial Reporting from across the Solar System since 2033

OOC: This is a place for news, developments and for all those posts which are less than 'here is a fully-fleshed character that I am going to involve heavily with this story' and more than 'meh, I don't want to type today'. This isn't, yet, a repository for lore but considering we are dealing with the history of the future then that is something that could possibly be explored.

To quote the man I stole this from:

Use this thread to post short plot points to move more in-depth RP and storylines along or as a substitute for RP altogether. Anything from fragments and sentences to a couple paragraphs is okay. When plot points do develop into a roleplaying thread or a full-blown story, please include a link to relevant posts and NSwiki articles! This will help to keep other players better appraised of what's going on.

This thread is open for all players in the Western Atlantic/ Sol 2100 spinoff' region ( who want to engage in the future Sol2100 setting ) as well people who regularly roleplay with the Western Atlantic/Sol 2100, as long as the news items are relevant to the region. If you have found this but are looking for the Modern-Tech Western Atlantic regional news thread then you need viewtopic.php?f=4&t=154407

This idea has been shamelessly stolen from Knootoss, down to the fact that I stole some of his wording, who in turn stole it off Lavinium.

[Martian Confederation]

Martian Confederation News Network

Martian Congress adopts new immigration law

(Nova Europa) - The Martian Congress today adopted the Act to Regularize and Rationalize Immigration by a vote of 314 to 81. The Act requires that anyone arriving from Earth or the asteroid colonies seeking permanent residence submit an application before arrival and await approval by the Directorate of Labor Management. The criteria for approval, as defined by the Act, include the applicant’s ability to provide for themselves financially and contribute positively to the Confederation’s labor pool. The Act does not provide for family-based immigration, except in the case of the minor children of citizens or arriving immigrants or the spouses of citizens or arriving immigrants, provided that the citizen or arriving immigrant can support the spouse financially. Any intending immigrants arriving before receiving Directorate approval will be required to remain at the quarantine facility on Phobos until approved for entry.

The Act does provide for the immediate entry of intending immigrants from the independent corporate-owned Martian colonies of Utopia, Teslan and Vale Marte.

[Martian Confederation]

Martian Confederation News Network

Livestream

The camera showed a man with hard features and a heavily lined face standing in front of a window looking out to the sandy, windswept surface. Sealed buildings and domes extended nearly to the horizon, all joined by tubes, some wide, others narrow; some translucent and others metallic and opaque.

“We’re with Congressperson David William Cheng,” a voice off camera said, “one of the sponsors of the Immigration Act.” The voice paused. “Congressperson Cheng, can you explain the rationale?”

“It’s quite simple,” the man said, slightly frowning. “Most people on Earth have no useful skills. At least not for our great work of transforming Mars. Machines do most real work on Earth, at least in the still-civilized zones. We have no need here for Earth farmers, sales clerks, UBI recipients or social media clowns. We need technical people. Scientists. Engineers. Machinists. Roboticists. The new law opens the door for those we need - even offering incentives to the most critical workers - while keeping out those,” he gave a parody of a smile, “best suited for life on Earth.”

[Lotheringia]

Joseph Marien Stadium, 1935

The first thing Hugues Kalunga noticed was the smoke. Around him men, for the crowd was entirely men, smoked freely and voluminously as they stood on the hillside looking down at the pitch below. Beneath the smell of tobacco was the ever-present base-note of coal fires that burned in a thousand chimneys in the city of Brussels beyond the stands.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing a double-breasted suit of a fashionable cut and a trilby was perched upon his head.

“This shit is bussin,” he exclaimed to himself. The man in front, a sober-looking fellow dressed like a clerk with pince-nez on his nose, turned at this odd expression and shot him a glance. Kalunga ignored him. If the man intended to say something then it was lost as a sudden cheer came up from the five thousand strong crowd. Daring Club de Bruxelles and Koninklijke Lyra were coming onto the pitch for the final of the Belgium Cup. The man next to Kalunga turned to him. He was an older gentleman with a long grey beard who leaned upon a silver-topped cane. “This promises to be a good match,” he said by way of conversation. “No cap,” agreed Kalunga. The older man smiled at this and turned away.

The coin having been tossed the whistle blew and one of the players, with an audible thud, kicked the heavy leather ball back to a player who booted it into the air. It sailed up into the air and then stopped. The crowd stopped as though frozen in time. All that could be heard was the jingling of an electronic alarm.

“Aww,” said Kalunga, disappointed, “Very unpeng. EVE!” Into the centre of his field of vision a woman in shimmering blue appeared. Wherever he looked she remained in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” said the Electronic Virtual Entity, “But at 17:24 yesterday you asked me to remind you when Dr Goergen was about to speak to the Parliamentary Select Committee on Population Maintenance.

Kalunga knocked his head at his forgetfulness causing his trilby to fall off. “Of course,” he said, “Thanks EVE.” With his right hand he reached behind his head and, feeling along that line where his neck ended and his hair began, he came across three invisible buttons. Pressing them in unison the Joseph Marien Stadium began to simultaneously fall away and dim, as though it was all a stage and he was falling backwards into the audience. At the moment the scene was completely black there came into his vision dabs of light which slowly coalesced into brighter and brighter patches of light until, almost in a sudden, the front room of his apartment appeared before him. He picked up the VR headset from his head, taking care to untangle any of the wires which painted the complete holistic picture, and placed it onto the sofa beside him. EVE was now projected from a hologram upon his coffee table.

“The proceedings are about to begin,” she said in a computer voice, “Would you like to stream it through full VR?”

Kalunga looked at the headset next to him. In his mouth he could still taste the artificial memory of the smoke of 1930s Brussels. “Nah,” he said after a moment, “Just project it.”

His wallpaper, which was of a tasteful modern pattern displaying abstract images of the wide variety of beautiful cities now lost to the sea, shimmered and disappeared. It was replaced by a wood-lined committee room with a view from the public gallery. To his left and right journalists and spectators jostled and talked. On the far side of the room, beyond a horseshoe of desks around which the parliamentarians sat, was a young blonde standing next to a larger version of the holographic projector which sat upon Hugues’ desk.

“Ahh there she is,” said Kalunga, “That evil b*tch.” To his sides he could hear a sudden gasp. He turned and saw angry glances from the crowd around him. “Shush,” said one man whose tanned skin marked his out as someone originally from the Magreb. “Aww mate,” said Hugues, “EVE.” There was an electronic chirping response. “EVE, turn off ‘Dynamic Crowd’.” There was another beep and the scowling crowd was replaced by another which though moved and talked otherwise ignored him completely.

Sébastien Albrecht, chairman of the Select Committee, coughed and the room fell silent. “Well,” he said, “I’d like to thank Professor Goergen for coming today. I know that finding time in your busy schedule can be a challenge.” A knowing look passed between the committee members.

Pierrette Goergen did not smile. She looked like a woman in her mid-20s with her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She certainly did not look old enough to be in charge of the government’s artificial procreation laboratories. It was a wonder what anti-aging treatments could do these days.

“I always have time,” she said in a clipped voice, “To explain our work.”

Albrecht smiled. “I’m sure. Well, considering it has been a little time since you last spoke to us, and we have new members on the committee, we’ve asked whether you can provide an overview of the work of the laboratories.

Goergen nodded. She held out a hand and the projector produced an image of the planet earth which appeared to rotate on its axis. Several members of the committee winced at the sight of it. Much of the world was either yellow or brown as habitable land had been lost to the deserts. The Amazon rainforest, which their great-grandparents once called the ‘lungs of the earth’ was gone, replaced by a scorched wasteland. As the globe turned from day to night they could not help but notice that only patches of light remained in Africa and much of Asia, whilst the western Antarctica gleamed with the artificial light of high-rise cities.

“Much of the world has changed,” said Goergen with deliberate understatement, “But one thing has remained a persistent problem for the last two centuries.” She gently moved her hand and the globe disappeared to be replaced with a graph.

“Birth rates have been falling for decades. It is a common mistake among those who do not care to educate themselves with the facts to assume that much of our planet’s current problems stem from overpopulation. That,” she said with a shrug, “Is all too common a fallacy now that more of the human population is confined into comparatively smaller areas.”

She moved her hand again and the graph was replaced by a medley of moving scenes, who bioreactors dispensing food, vats of artificial beef, robots cultivating algae and automated drones flying between the great mass of solar panels that made up the Sahara desert. “It is also a common misconception to assume that the pace of automation has rendered the human unnecessary to the modern economy. That, too, is incorrect. There are still jobs to do and even now there are things which only a human can do, in terms of complexity or economic necessity, and some things that only a human should do. For example, automation and advanced system learning can only be taken so far in military settings. There remains a need and a desire for the infantryman to take and hold territory.”

She stepped forward. “The fact is that demographics around the world have been collapsing and they have been collapsing long before the sea levels began to rise. This has led to rapidly aging populations where greater and greater burdens have been placed on an increasingly small percentage of the population.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “This is neither a new problem nor one that governments have not tried to tackle in the past. Some of these have been, what might be called, carrots in the form of tax incentives for the production of children, and some have been sticks, such as limiting access to facilities that might cease an unwanted gestation.” She straightened. “All these methods have failed. If anything the demographic situation, if left to its own devices, would be even worse now than it was a hundred years ago. There is nothing like a few decades of protracted climate catastrophe to dampen the desire to continue the species.” She considered this a joke and smiled at it. The rest of the committee did not join in.

“Simply put,” said Goergen, “Action had to be taken to ensure a stable demographic situation. The decision was taken that if the population could not be relied upon to continue the human race then the government would.” She held out her hand and the projector sprang into life again. This time it showed a gleaming facility of metal and glass. Men and women dressed in white walked among rows of chambers fed by tubes and cables. Small windows allowed the sight of things growing in the translucent liquid.

“There are,” sniffed the professor, “A host of wild stories about the work we do. That we are engaged in genetic engineering, or we are creating cohorts of legendary warriors or genetic
Übermenschen.” On her artificially pretty face was the hint of a smile. “But the committee will know that genetic engineering is strictly prohibited by law. No, all that our computers do is compute the human genome information we hold to produce distinct, viable humans without any underlying health conditions. This is no more different from what happens in a biological mother except the process is duplicated by several orders of magnitude to ensure a healthy and stable demographic situation.” She waved her hand one last time and the film disappeared to be replaced by the rotating image of the Lotharingian coat of arms.

“Are there any questions,” she said, folding her hands before her.

The chairman looked about. One of the committee members leaned towards his microphone.

“Professor Goergen,” he said, “You’ve spoken in the past about the technological considerations of your work but I don’t recall ever hearing you discuss the ethical implications. Many of my constituents are believers in Chrislam and they have been very clear that the work you’re doing is blasphemous. What would you say to those who might ask whether it is correct that the state is in the business of creating people?”

Pierrette raised an eyebrow. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I think, if I may make a broader point, but the history of human civilisation is one where an increasing number of obligations that once belonged to the individual or local community have been passed to the state. I am not an anthropologist but I understand that the first humans banded together for mutual protection. As states grew then war and defence was passed to it. Then the provision of justice. Over time the state became responsible for a number of things which were once the concern of the private individual. Healthcare, pensions, the regulation of the workplace. These are common now but six hundred years ago it would have seemed bizarre to ask the state to look after the sick and elderly. Now we would think it unjust if it did not.

For that reason the citizens of the state have proven incapable of generating children in sufficient numbers to maintain a healthy population. The reasons for this are long and complicated and I realise we don’t have all afternoon to discuss this but the point is that if the people are not going to do this then I don’t think it unreasonable that this responsibility should not also pass to the state.”

Another committee member leaned forward. “Dr Goergen,” she said, “One of the things that I’ve noticed is the complete lack of ethnic diversity in the laboratories' production. Are we assume from this that the government does not consider People of Colour to be worthy of existence.”

Pierrette bristled. “Certainly not,” she snapped, “Indeed ethnic minorities have been and continue to out-perform their compatriots in offspring production. However the decision was made, madam, that Lotharingia is a European country and it is only proper that the replacement population reflects that.”

“So this isn’t,” pressed the committee member, “To do with the White Replacement Theory?”

“Not at all. Demographics were in decline throughout much of the world before the present ecological conditions started to prevail. Nor are our efforts applicable across a global scale. There is nothing stopping the present the Provisional Hindustan State or the Sino-Kamchatkan Republic from taking similar measures to ensure the continuance of their own ethnic groups.”

Sébastien Albrecht smiled. “What would you say, Professor Goergen, about reports that have emerged about the conditions of the national orphanages?”

She shrugged. “You will have to forgive me,” she said, “My job is simply to create the next generation. How that generation is raised is a matter for others; I suggest you direct your questions to them.”

Albrecht smiled again. He did that alot. “I see. I wonder, whilst you’re here, I might ask you about the new immigration law from the Martian Confederation?”

Dr Goergen blinked. She had not expected this question. “It doesn’t,” she said after a moment, “Really have any bearing on the work that I do.”

“Yes,” pressed Albrecht, “But you must have an opinion on it as a leading government scientist.”

Pierrette turned her head as she thought and pulled two fingers through her ponytail. “Well what the Martian Confederation choses to do with their immigration law is their concern, however for what it is worth I think settling planets and terraforming them is a waste of time and resources. Why do through the time and effort of having lakes and rivers on Mars when the surface gravity will only ever be 38% of that of Earth’s? It is like renovating one of this continent’s old palaces and filing it with art and treasures only to leave the roof off. I mean, purely from a statistical standpoint, it would make more sense to detonate Mars and use the debris to create rotating habitats that would offer far more Earth-like habitats than anything the so-called Red Planet could offer.”

“I see,” said Albrecht, “Very interesting.”

“Mate,” said Hugues Kalunga, “Don’t let her get away so easily! She’s a witch!” But no one listened to him as the committee moved onto further questions.

[Austro Hungarian-Slavic-Rumelia]

Internationale Habsburger Nachrichten

“...Have you been displaced by Global Warming? Have you lost your farmland due to rising sea levels? Has the Wet Bulb temperature rendered your home uninhabitable? If so then Mumbys of Stymouth want to hear from you. We are a team of internationally respected legal experts who are participating in the upcoming Class Action Lawsuit against the major oil and gas operators of the last century. This is your chance to gain compensation for the stress, inconvenience and family deaths caused by the Climate Catastrophe. So to talk to our lawyers for a free initial consultation then click on the link below NOW. Mumbys of Stymouth. With you. For you. By your side.”

The advert faded. The image was replaced by two men sitting in leather armchairs beside an ornate mantelpiece in which the firegrate had been removed and replaced by an older but still functional air conditioning unit. The screen then changed to show only the man on the right who looked up into the camera.

“Hello and welcome back to “Beating the Bounds” with me, Torlak Oguz. My guest today is His Imperial, Royal and Sultanic Highness Archduke Joachim Eugen.”

The image of Oguz was replaced with that of the Archduke who glanced towards the camera. The Archduke was well known to be the eccentric of the family not least for his insistence on wearing glasses when such things had been rendered obsolete. Tall and thin; he was dressed in a three-piece suit of a cut that might have been fashionable two centuries earlier save that it was now crafted from lighter material. The Archduke’s one concession to modern style was the absence of a neck-tie; he instead wore a contemporary boho tie containing a jewel cut to show his family’s coat of arms.

Oguz reappeared. “Now before the commercial break I believe you were just about to speak about the recent Martian immigration law, sir. If I could ask you to continue.”

The Archduke raised his eyebrows. “Well I am afraid that the actions of the Martian Confederation are entirely in keeping with what one would expect them to do.”

“How do you mean?” asked Torlak.

“Well I realise,” continued the Archduke, “That the Martians are keen to tell us that they were founded by the cooperation of national and international space agencies but really it seem patently obvious that much of the initial impetus for colonisation came from that cabal of feckless billionaire that did so much to cause the present ecological conditions.”

“Go on.”

“Really,” tutted the Archduke, “What can one expect from a class of people who made their fortunes selling books online and flammable electric motor vehicles? There is such a deleterious selfishness to that brand of unrestrained Anglo-Saxon capitalism; that men who having polluted so wantonly and readily then escape the consequences of their actions by departing to their fortified antipodean bunkers or their colonies of Mars is, I am afraid to say, vanity of the worst sort. If these men had devoted but a tenth of the effort they expended in building stations around Phobos to tackling the consequences of their greed at home then I daresay that this planet would be in a much better position than it is at the present time.”

“Are you saying,” pressed Oguz, “That space travel is unnecessary? A waste?”

“No at all,” replied the Archduke, “What I am saying is that if one’s founding ethos is established by self-aggrandizing parvenus whose only goal is to have an outpost on Miranda named after them then one can hardly be surprised if that same temperament of mean-spirited selfishness does not also perpetuate in the institutions which were subsequently created.”

Oguz nodded politely. “What do you think the response of the Imperial government should be?”

“Well I will be pressing His Majesty’s Government to agree an appropriate response through the respective UN agencies.”

“And what do you think that response should be?”

The Archduke leaned back slightly. “Well I think the Martian colonies should be reminded that they exist for the benefit of all mankind and not just for their own narrow interests. Earth has a great many people on it who are keen to achieve some form of better life on Mars or any one of the other extraterrestrial habitations. The decision of the Confederation Government is foolish when one considers that the Martian colonies are not yet in a position of complete self-sufficiency from the mother planet.”

“Are you talking about a trade embargo?”

“I am suggesting that a period of restriction in the flow of goods, services and the passage of those that the Martian Confederation considers ‘the right sort of people’ might be conducive in producing a period of reflection on the part of the Confederal government.”

The camera returned to Oguz. “I see,” he turned to the camera, “Well stay tuned because there is more on this topic to discuss plus the recent court-submission by the Cooperative Republic of Yugoslavia to sovereignty over the Illyrian territories. We’ll be back after this…”

[America 2100]

NABC News Brief

The screen showed an overhead shot of the Federal City - once part of the District of Columbia, now a Federal enclave in the midst of Washington City, the capital of the State of New Washington. Despite the ravages of ecological disaster, which had claimed the Tidal Basin, Reagan Airport, parts of Old Town Alexandria and about half of the famed cherry blossoms, it was still an impressive sight. Some argued it was even more impressive with the massive sea wall - made to look like granite slabs and marble columns - protecting low-lying monuments like those to Jefferson, Washington, Roosevelt and Dr. King.

The shot dissolved to one a young man standing in front of the White House. “... President Nguyen’s address to the nation is expected to focus on the progress in ending the rebellions in Kentucky and rural parts of Georgia and South Carolina. Sources in the White House, however, have said the President will also address demands from the People's Front to increase the Universal Basic Income. Sources suggest that increases in the UBI may be funded, in part, by an agreement, expected within the next few months, to turn over U.S. claims to the Teslan colony on Mars and several of the asteroid colonies to Atoz-Yamaguchi-Voigt International…”

[America 2100]

NABC News Brief

The screen showed a large number of people standing arm-in-arm across the length of a wide highway. They stretched across multiple lanes and the grassy median in the middle of the ten-lane road. Lines of large trucks and other vehicles stretched in both directions and police vehicles with lights flashing separated the people from the vehicles, most of which appeared to be driverless, with the larger ones lacking even cabin space for a human operator.

“... blocking traffic in both directions on Interstate 95 just north of the Washington City Beltway. Josue Thomas-Fernandez, President of Americans for Jobs, spoke with our reporter on the scene.”

The view shifted to a ground level perspective on the protestors and the vehicles stopped behind them. A man in a light tan jacket with graying hair and glasses stood in front, talking with a young woman in a red jacket and skirt. The view shifted again to focus on the man.

“We don’t want another increase in the UBI,” the man said, his brow furrowing. “We want jobs. Real jobs. Not UBI make-work.”

“How would you define a real job?” The woman asked off camera.

“Like this,” the man gestured with the thumb of his left hand towards the trucks behind him. “My grandfather was a trucker. Owned his own rig. Drove all up and down the East Coast. Back when you could go from the Keys to the Maine-Canadian border without scuba gear or a passport. When I was little I rode with him. He took pride in his driving record - never even got so much as a parking ticket.” The man frowned. “Now, there are no truckers. It’s all machines. They say it’s safer, but my grandfather never ran over a baby in a stroller like some of these damned machines have. But it sure the (bleep) is cheaper for the megacorps…”

“Statistics would suggest the opposite, Mr. Thomas-Fernandez,” the woman said.

“Statistics say what the guy paying for them wants them to say,” the man said, shaking his head.

“Are all these protestors former truckers?”

“Aw, (bleep) no. Those still alive are all old. There hasn’t been a human trucker on these roads in 60 years. Just like there aren’t any dispatchers. Or cabbies. Or factory workers.” His eyes teared up a bit. “Or anesthesiologists. Or secretaries. Or phone operators. Or store clerks. Or short-order cooks. Or airline pilots. Or…”

“I think we get the idea,” the woman said.

“No. I don’t think you do.”

[Martian Confederation]

Martian Confederation News Network

Livestream

A crowd of people milled about a large enclosed plaza with glass windows looking out on the Martian surface on one side and into the dome enclosing the main hall of the Martian Congress on the other. The camera zoomed in on one man walking purposefully through the plaza and a voice off screen called out. “Congressperson Cheng! Congressperson Cheng.”

The man paused and turned towards the camera.

“Congressperson,” the voice behind the camera said, “what is your reaction to reports that Austro Hungarian-Slavic-Rumelian Empire is considering a trade embargo over the new immigration law?”

Cheng frowned, then gave a gruff-sounding laugh. “How can you even say that without laughing? Austro Hungarian what and what?” He shook his head. “Mars is the future of humanity. We are working to build a future not for ourselves - I’ll be dead long before the dream is realized - but for our descendants and for the human species.” He shook his head. “And look at them. Wrapping themselves up in the tattered flags and rusted crowns of Old Earth empires. They are stuck in the past. And like all those trapped in the past, they resent those who are striving towards the future.”

Cheng turned and walked away briskly. He muttered under his breath, with the camera picking up just a few words: “... Earth ... already ... doesn’t know it.”

[Austro Hungarian-Slavic-Rumelia]

“Well obviously,” said a bearded man standing on a hillside on parched grasslands, “I’m not saying that what has happened hasn’t been terrible. When I remember the jungle that used to be here, the animals and all the birds, well it is enough to make me cry. But what I am saying, in terms of the ruins, the lack of vegetation does make my job as an archaeologist considerably easier.”

The scene changed to a group cutting back dying trees as others dug pits around half-buried stone structures. In the footsteps of the Maya said a voiceover, “Tuesday, 8pm Eastern Standard Time.”

The scene changed to the outline of a generic cityscape, the only thing different from the skyscrapers of any other city was the ubiquitous flood defenses and a Colonial Revival hall.

Live from the KKS News Center in Dover, Delaware. This, is KKS

The scene changed to a superimposed Hispanic woman of indeterminate age who turned towards the camera and folded her arms. Brass Tacks with Consuela Moya.

Moya sat behind a metal and glass desk. KKS, short for Kaiserlich, Königlich und Sultanisch, was the English language news channel of the Quadruple Monarchy. Like a host of other news organizations it maintained a presence in the United States which was still considered by many to be the leader of the free world, even if that seemed more today to be a primus inter pares position.

“Good evening,” said Moya, “My guest tonight made headlines around the solar system when influential Martian Congressman David William Cheng made this sensational attack…”

The VT showed the clip from the Martian Confederation News Network.

“...Wrapping themselves up in the tattered flags and rusted crowns of Old Earth empires. They are stuck in the past. And like all those trapped in the past, they resent those who are striving towards the future.”

The scene returned to the desk. “Here with me to discuss the recent Martian Immigration Law and the state of the Earth today is my guest an Imperial Prince, member of the Austrian House of Lords, an author and commentator. Archduke Joachim Eugen. Archduke, thank you for coming in today.”

The Archduke was dressed exactly the same as he was when he spoke on the Empire’s internal news service. He was not a man to change his attire lightly. “The pleasure,” he said in lightly-accented English, “Is all mine.”

“Your comments on ‘Beating the Bounds’ have gathered popularity across the planet and the wider solar system. Why do you think that is?”

The Archduke raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he said, “I am obviously flattered by the attention.” Tattered flags and rusted crowns aside, the Empire did not delude itself into thinking it was a first-rate power. “I have received letters from across the entire human sphere of influence and I understand that my remarks have been ‘trending’ on social media,” the Archduke said with the air of a man who had no idea what that meant. “As to why, one can only conclude that a great many people are tired of the presumptuousness of the current Martian leadership. The population of Mars, even swelled by waves of immigration that they now seek to diminish, is but a tiny fraction of Earth’s. To have Mr Cheng and others dictate terms to us is rather like having a rabbit demand reparations from the fox.”

Moya nodded politely. “You’ve been critical in the past of UN efforts to reestablish control over the Martian colonies. In a column for the ‘New Thinking’ website you stated: “..the military campaign to re-impose the will of the United Nations onto the Martian colonies was poorly conceived and badly arranged from the very start. It can only be imagined what successes a competent military and political leadership would have achieved.” Are you suggesting that Martian independence should be revoked?”

“Not at all,” replied the Archduke, “Unlike Mr Cheng I am aware of the binding obligations that are bestowed on those in a position of leadership. The United Nations signed a treaty to recognise the government at Nova Europa and I for one see no need to renege on the promises that were provided.”

“But are you saying,” pressed Moya, “That the war could, and should, have been fought differently?”

“Well yes,” said the Archduke with a noble laugh, “But you’ll forgive me but it is one thing to question the strategy employed, quite another to suggest that the outcome ought to be overturned as a result. War, as you know, is not a game. Were one to cheat at a game of cards then it is only proper that the victory be squashed and the player thrown out. The same rules do not apply in war.”

“Did the Martians cheat?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, I am simply stating that the Martians won their victory and ought to retain those benefits that victory has brought them.”

“You’ve spoken recently,” asked Moya, “About the possibility of a trade war with the Martian Confederation. In light of your comments on the Martian Independence War, what would you say to those who say that you’re a warmonger, that you want to provoke a war to bring Mars to heel?”

The Archduke gave a practiced laugh. “Oh that I had that power,” he replied, “But Mr Cheng and other equally excitable commentators seem to be under the impression that I somehow dictate Earth policy. I speak, you understand, entirely as what you might call a ‘concerned citizen’.”

“But you’re the brother of the Emperor..”

“Cousin,” corrected the Archduke.

“Cousin, apologies, but with respect you’re an imperial prince with a seat in the House of Lords. Isn’t that more than just a ‘private citizen.’”

The Archduke huffed. “Constitutional convention dictates that Archdukes of the Imperial, Royal and Sultanic family are members of the Herrenhaus but do not vote on legislation.”

“You’re brother, Archduke Salvator Leopold did.”

“Yes but my brother was serving as a Minister in His Majesty’s Government at the time. That is rather different.”

Moya tapped the datapad in front of her. “Tattered flags and rusted crowns,” she quoted, “Does Mars represent the future, Archduke?”

Joachim Eugen smiled. “Yes,” he replied, “When I heard that I rather thought that it is a shame that Mr Cheng does not devote his considerable skills with the English language to something more than schoolyard insults. The fact is, Ms Moya, that the situation in Europe was rather different from that in North America. When millions of people started to be displaced by environmental change they moved north. That, in turn, overwhelmed the existing institutions of the European Union and its associate states, a fact that Mr Cheng in his astronomical isolation no doubt cares to forget. In such a situation many of our so-called leaders fled leaving only those with a historic connection to the land to attempt to restore some kind of order. As I have said; the world before the restoration of my family’s thrones was once of faceless technocrats and huckster billionaires. When they proved unable or unwilling to address the challenges facing our peoples then is it any wonder that concerned citizens would turn to what one might call their ‘traditional leaders’. I am afraid the old-fashioned sense of noblesse oblige will do more for the future of mankind than the empty rhetoric and tinsel-clad promises of Mr Cheng and his ilk.”

“Will you be talking with President Nguyen during your stay here?” asked Moya.

“Well I’m sure the President has a full diary of arrangements and I would not presume to trouble her with my presence. No, I have been invited to meet with the Empire’s delegation at the United Nations so that we can work towards an amicable solution to the present difficulties with the Red Planet.”

“Is a second war with Mars inevitable?”

“Not at all,” replied the Archduke, “And you will forgive me for saying so but my family once made the mistake of assuming that a war would quickly resolve matters in their favour. You don’t have to be an ardent student of history to recall how well that went for them. But certainly I do not think that we should allow ourselves to be bullied by our smaller and, I might add, weaker neighbour.”

“You’ve discussed the possibility of limiting travel to Mars, is that feasible?”

“Eminently feasible, one need only look at even a child’s model of the solar system to realise that we are not discussing the movement of refugees in small boats. The distances between Earth and Mars are vast, truly vast, and the traffic between us is not so voluminous as to allow several thousand people to be smuggled there. If I may, one of the reasons why I think the war against Mars was so badly handled was primarily it was assumed to be a war in which ground was taken and held. Those sort of tactics work well in a relatively confined place like Earth but across the gulf of space it is a rather poor strategy. A Martian conflict ought not to be one with soldiers but with ships; their planet still requires goods and materials from the homeworld, and resources provided to them from their interests in the asteroid belt. It requires, if you will forgive the metaphor, a siege, not a blitzkrieg.”

“Fascinating,” Moya turned to the camera, “Stay tuned we’ll be right back.”

“Join me, Kevin Hoskins, for every stroke and every put at this year’s Ryder Cup.”
The Ryder Cup 2100, This year from the Al Thani Golf Resort on the Floating Islands of Venus.
“You won’t want to miss it.”
GOLFING MATTERS: Sunday 20:30 ESA or stream past episodes by clicking the link NOW

[Atoz-Yamaguchi-Voight]

NABC News Brief

The screen showed a well-dressed man of clearly mixed ethnicity with graying hair and glasses floating in a seated position in front of a large window with the distant Earth and Moon visible in the background.

“We are joined this evening,” a woman’s voice said over the video, “by Robert Voight-Yamaguchi, the Chairman and Chief Technologist of the Atoz-Yamaguchi-Voight corporation. He is joining us from his company’s headquarters at the L2 Lagrange point.”

The voice paused.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Voight-Yamaguchi.”

“Please,” the floating man said, after a brief lag, with a smile, “call me Robert, Denise.”

“Robert, could you address President Nguyen’s announcement the other night that the United States is conceding its claims to the Teslan Colony on Mars and several asteroids, including the mineral-rich 16-Psyche?”

“Of course, Denise,” Robert said, after a pause. “First, allow me to point out that the U.S. government is not conceding any claims. Rather, it is entering into an economic partnership with us to develop the potential of these colonies. In return for the economic development rights, we are paying a considerable licensing fee to the United States. A sum that will, we all hope, allow the U.S. to reclaim its role as a source of progress and driver of economic growth in the world.”

“And how will the Martian Congress’ new immigration law impact the development of the Teslan colony?”

Robert shrugged, and after a pause said, “It won’t. As you and your viewers know, Denise, the Teslan Colony is not part of the Martian Congress. And notwithstanding the legal fictions of their Articles of Confederation that seek to give unaffiliated colonies some place in their government, Tesla has never been or expressed any desire to be part of their Confederation. So, they have no say over who may or may not go to Teslan.”

“But now that role falls to your company, correct, Robert?”

The Chairman smiled. “In coordination with the existing authorities in the colony. And the United State government, of course.”

[The Martian Democracy]

Hi. Quick enquiry:

1. Is this region dead?
2. If not, can I join the region?
3. If I join, can I still play as a Martian government?