[Lauchenoiria]

Unstable Government, Danger of Collapse

Sandra Pavía was irate. She strode along the corridors of the parliament building while typing on her tablet, causing aides and security to jump out of her way. After everything she had done to try and prevent another conflict between Xiomera and Huenya, it appeared that one was inevitable. She was angry at Calhualyana, yes, but more importantly she was angry with herself for being taken in by the propaganda that the Empress had wanted peace, and that she had acted to try and preserve something that would never stay.

Pavía did not want to go down in history as a useful tool of a totalitarian empire-builder. In spite of what Minister Arana of Milintica liked to tell the media about her, Pavía was a committed democrat who had merely made poor decisions and believed foolish things for a short while. But her eyes were open now, and Calhualyana would not be able to draw the wool over them again.

Her aides had drawn up the proposed extended sanctions package that Pavía now flicked through as she walked. The edits she made were not to weaken, as Arana would have accused, but rather to strengthen the sanctions and make sure that Xiomera felt the financial consequences of her actions. A military solution was out of the question, for numerous reasons ranging from the Coalition dispute down to the obvious lack of resources given the situation in Auria and the need to continue to monitor Mallacaland.

“Stop,” came a voice and Pavía had to come to a sudden halt or risk walking into the human who now stood, arms crossed, in front of her. She looked up to see Samantha Clavell, Pacifist, and current Minister for Culture & the Arts, ahead of her.

“Samantha,” Pavía said, her tone dripping with polite disdain. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your warmongering,” Clavell replied, glaring. “You continue to try and provoke Xiomera with every move you make. Let me tell you now, there will be no increase in sanctions if you and Alvarez expect this coalition to continue working.”

“Arana should’ve accused you of being a Xiomeran spy, not me,” Pavía muttered half under her breath.

“Minister Arana of Milintica is clearly working with you and your anti-Xiomeran plot to hide your true agenda with these false accusations. It is clear to me that people like you will not be happy with anything short of a world war to remake the world in your image. You are incapable of letting other nations exist without them conforming to your ideology.”

Pavía blinked. She paused for a second, then reached up and pinched her own arm. “No, I seem to be awake. Forgive me, Minister, but since when were you a subscriber to these bizarre conspiracy theories? You always seemed more intelligent to me than that.”

“You call this a theory, but I’ve seen the evidence in Auria. You violated the agreement between us, you have been using us, and so have the Greens. We should not have joined in alliance with them, and we certainly should have refused to work with you.”

“Are you on drugs?” Pavía asked. “No, really. I am so confused as to what’s happening right now. Maybe you should go speak to a doctor because I don’t think you’re well.”

“Just you wait,” Clavell warned, then she abruptly turned around and stalked away, heading back in the direction of the government offices. Pavía thought for a minute, and then turned to follow, part of her actually concerned that the Pacifist leader had been drugged or was ill. She couldn’t hope to meet the speed with which Clavell had vanished, so she traipsed along in the same direction instead.

Upon arriving back in the corridor that she came from, Pavía came to a halt as she noticed the scene in front of her. Lucie Scott, Green leader, and Clavell, were shouting at each other in the middle of the corridor while several Green-Pacifist ministers and their staff were packing up their offices.

“You talk of cooperation and then it turns out you intended this all along?” Scott was yelling. “Poach our members and then bring down the government to fit your agenda of punishing the Liberals? Instead of actually, you know, working to make Lauchenoiria better?”

“We would not be resigning if you hadn’t sold out to the warmongers!” Clavell replied.

“Oh really, then what’s with the leaked documents that suggest this was planned? Before the war in Auria, before even the 2020 elections? You won’t be happy until every member of the Liberal and Communist parties both are in jail or something? I’ve got news for you, Samantha, everyone lost people in the war, and they’re not going out there trying to collapse the government in some ill-considered revenge quest.”

“You will never understand,” Clavell hissed, and then clapped her hands together, spun around and began to leave, trailed by the others intending to resign. As she passed Pavía, she knocked against her shoulder, faking an accident. They turned the corner, leaving Pavía and Scott looking at each other.

“Sandra, you need to see this,” Lucie Scott said, crossing the distance and handing the Foreign Secretary a file. Pavía glanced down.

“We need to speak to Alvarez, don’t we?” Pavía groaned.

“Yeah,” sighed Scott, “we really do.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Untitled Document

Creating new document

Diary Entry. April 23, 2023

I tried writing the letter again. Like somehow today would be different to every other time I’ve tried in the last four and a half years.

Dear Councillor Jennifer Eleonora Hale…

No. Much too formal. A middle name and everything! One I learned from the internet as well.

Dear Councillor Hale…

Ugh. It’s probably correct, per Kerlian tradition. But do I really want to uphold Kerlian tradition? I’d like nothing worse.

Dear Sonja…

Yeah, that won’t get delivered. The stupid Kerlian Censorship Board would chuck it in the bin. No, probably a furnace actually. Too dangerous to leave lying around.

Dear Jennifer…

But that’s not what I knew her as! It’s a name from the news; it has that surreal quality to it, like the people from the news aren’t actually human.

Anyway, I didn’t write the letter. At this point, it would probably be too weird. What exactly am I going to say? “Hi, thank you for saving my life almost five years ago. If you even remember. Also, thanks for stopping them from torturing us, I guess? Even if it was partly your family that led to us being tortured in the first place.”

Yeah, that’s not gonna go down well. Plus, I am literally the only person I know who can admit that it was torture. Everyone else dances around the subject, like they’re afraid to trigger me, even though I use the word myself. It’s like they can’t comprehend that maybe I recovered from the trauma. Sure, most people didn’t, but statistically some of us had to, right? I’m not the only person who survived Kerlian prison without going insane. I can’t be.

Well, there’s always Carmen Robinson. Last we saw of her she was on some ski holiday in Zongongia. She’s hiding from the media in their king’s castle. Which is kinda funny honestly. Her responding to exile with “lol whatever” and then going on to have fun is kinda cool; I respect her for it.

Course, if I was really over it, I wouldn’t think about it all the time. But, like, I think about it in a sort of academic way. As if I was an outside observer rather than a participant in the sequence of events. Like the scars belong to someone else. Though, if I’m honest, I think I show them off a little. It scares creeps away from trying to chat me up at bars. Makes me look strong, cause I survived that. I guess I am.

Anyway, Jae Chung appeared at my door this morning. She offered me a job after I graduate. It wasn’t exactly the field I had in mind. I could always turn it down, it’s not like this is Xiomera or something. And I should, given the whole thing with WOE. I’m still EXTREMELY pissed off that they arrested me for being on their mailing list. Okay, sure, they released me without charge nine hours later but still.

I thought I’d panic, given the whole Kerlile thing. But I was just angry? It’s like, going through that once, I’m not scared because I know I can survive whatever. But having my own government do this stuff just makes me incandescent with rage. So, yeah, I really should have told Jae Chung to stuff her government job where the sun don’t shine.

So why am I still thinking about it?

*

Do you want to save the changes to ‘Untitled document’?

No.

‘Untitled document’ has been deleted.

[Lauchenoiria]

Letters from the Devil

Savannah Martinez stepped off the subway, her music playing loudly in her ears through headphones as she made her way out of the station and down the street to her apartment in Buttercity. After she’d reached her limit and given the police information on WOE, she’d become the target of so much harassment from the activist community in Costeno that she’d packed up her life and moved north to the capital.

In a funny twist of fate, Irene Ramos had needed a new flatmate when her previous one reached a limit with Irene’s newfound night terrors. And thus, the two former admin specialists of the non-violent parts of WOE ended up living together. Both of them shared a resentment for their former colleagues which they’d bonded over. While Irene’s exit from WOE had been far more traumatic, Savannah also had learned just how little WOE cared for the welfare of their members.

Savannah had given up activism and gotten a job helping to digitise old records for the local authority in the Buttercity area. It was mostly local tax records from the 1960s, which was boring and seemed pointless, but boring was exactly what she wanted. Something mundane and safe, that nobody cared about in the least. Something that made people’s eyes glaze over during small talk when she mentioned her occupation.

She climbed the stairs and unlocked her front door, only to stop and stare at Irene. The other woman was on disability benefits while being treated for severe PTSD, and spent most of her days at home watching repeats of children’s television shows to numb her brain to her thoughts. But today she was sitting on her floor, frantically writing what seemed to be an essay. Around her was a pile of books and opened mail.

“Irene? Are you okay?” Savannah asked.

“No, I need to finish this, I shouldn’t have ignored the other letters! I need to send it as soon as I can! I can’t let, I can’t, I need to finish!” Irene said, speaking almost too quickly to understand.

Savannah walked over and picked up one of the books. “The Dangers of Weak Government,” she read aloud from the title. She looked at a second book. “Male Violence in Policy Making.” Another. “Gynarchy: Essential for World Peace.” Another. “Upholding the Legacy of Empress Camaxtica. Irene, what is this?”

Irene did not answer, continuing to scribble furiously. Savannah picked her way through the pile until she reached the letters next to a set of ripped open package envelopes. First, she looked at the envelopes. They were marked with foreign postal stamps, customs notices, and more all layered on top of each other. Some of it was in a language Savannah didn’t understand. She glanced at Irene as she reached for the letters, but Irene didn’t seem to care that her flatmate was openly snooping.

Savannah picked up the first letter.

Ministry of Loyalty,

Tepilcayotl Memorial Complex

Tlālacuetztla

001 999

30 May 2023

Dear Irene,

I do hope you’re re-adjusting to normal life after your little vacation in Xiomera. I did enjoy spending time with you, and reading your analysis of the books I lent you. In fact, I did so enjoy your analyses that I have enclosed a number of texts I’d love to hear your thoughts on. Please do get back to me when you have the chance! I’ve enclosed a pre-paid envelope as I know how low incomes are in Lauchenoiria, and your government’s unfair charges on exports to Xiomera.

Yours truly,

Mariya Adema

A cold shiver ran through Savannah’s spine as she picked up the second letter.

Ministry of Loyalty,

Tepilcayotl Memorial Complex

Tlālacuetztla

001 999

17 June 2023

Dear Irene,

I noticed you have yet to respond to my last letter. I understand how difficult the adjustment period is, but I assure you getting back into a routine is a very important part of the process. I know how much you enjoyed your reading on your vacation, so I do hope you’ll get back into it soon. Also, as an early birthday gift, I got you a gift subscription to Matriarchy Monthly: Deluxe International Edition where you get a magazine alongside a book and some goodies from Kerlile each month! It’s super expensive in Lauchenoiria because of your government’s silly sanctions. Hope you enjoy!

Yours truly,

Mariya

Savannah braced herself for the third.

Ministry of Loyalty,

Tepilcayotl Memorial Complex

Tlālacuetztla

001 999

02 July 2023

Dear Irene,

It hurts me to think you have forgotten me. Perhaps a subscription to the Xiomeran Citizens’ Party magazine will help! These things are so hard to get in Lauchenoiria. Anyway, I do hope you’re ok. Please don’t make me come to Lauchenoiria to check up on you!

Yours,

Mariya

“Irene…” Savannah began, looking over at her flatmate. “Are you really doing what she asks? Why didn’t you take this to the police?”

“Do you honestly think that the Lauchenoirian police can protect me!?” Irene said, looking up from her essay. “Do you really think our government will do anything beyond some useless statement? And when she finds out I told them – which she will, do you know what she’d do?”

Savannah didn’t have a response. Irene was right. The Lauchenoirian authorities were woefully – no pun intended – unprepared for the threat Xiomera posed. They’d done nothing about the kidnappings of Irene and Clay last time; so why should Irene believe they’d do anything if something similar happened? There was a general unease about Xiomera within Lauchenoiria now. People liked to pretend that the Golden Sun Empire didn’t exist. After all, what you can’t see can’t hurt you.

Except it could. It could hurt you, and it had hurt Irene in ways that would probably never heal – both physical and mental. Savannah didn’t have a response because she believed the threat in the letter. If Xiomera wanted to send people to Lauchenoiria to do whatever they wanted, they would, and they’d probably get away with it too. The international community had barely reacted to the kidnappings before; blaming it on Lauchenoiria for not cracking down on WOE quickly enough.

Lauchenoiria was too weak to do anything about Xiomera, and the international community simply seemed not to care what happened to Lauchenoirians. Perhaps, then, Irene was right. The only way she could keep herself safe was to do whatever Mariya Adema asked, physically present or otherwise.

[Lauchenoiria]

Josephine Alvarez watched the calendar as the date grew nearer. She would have to somehow decide soon. She had delayed far too long.

If Jennifer Hale returned to Lauchenoiria, expecting to pick up where they left off, it would kill her political career. She had several options. She could tell Jennifer to stay where she was. She could hide Jennifer somewhere in secret like a mistress. She could just come right out and admit she was still in love. No good options.

*

Dear my fellow Reformists,

Where were you when my sister forced me to watch her torture a helpless boy to death?

Where were you when I risked my life to stand up for the freedom of Kerlians?

Where were you when it all fell apart and hope died for a generation?

You ask me to stay. You ask me to sacrifice my happiness, my love, my hope for a better life in order to stay here and make things better.

But where were you when I actually tried to make things better?

You want me to make the ultimate sacrifice, but when have any of you ever made a true sacrifice? When has any single one of you really done something that caused you material loss or harm? When has any single one of you even tried when it matters?

I’m leaving. I don’t do this simply, without thought. Of course I don’t! I’ve overthought this for the last four years; every single waking moment of my life in these last years has been dedicated to making life better for ordinary Kerlians. And how, exactly, has that worked out for anybody?

Do you truly think my presence will make the slightest difference?

There’s nothing I can do to change such a broken system from within the system. If you really, truly want to help, then the system has to go.

I’m leaving. Because the best thing I can do for hope… is to demonstrate it. To live my own dream, my own life, with my own love, and show people what it means to be happy. I can’t do that in Kerlile. Can anybody? Do any of you truly, genuinely, believe anybody can?

I’m leaving. And if you don’t like it, you’re going to have to learn to lump it.

Because I’m done.

Jennifer.

They’d been sending texts. And emails. And calls. And accosting her in the street. And even letters in the post; a medium of communication that was outdated in every country except the ideological primitivists of Yesteria.

This was her response. How dare they tell her to stay when they had never even approached her level of sacrifice? Rebecca Arnott, the President, was an opportunist who chose to support reform in order to support her political career. Electra Georgiou was a xenophile who enjoyed foreign products but who would never make a material sacrifice in order to stand up for the common woman – never mind the common man.

Rosemary Arnott was a young woman who did not understand life, or love, or anything remotely related. She had been a nineteen-year-old barely out of Maytown Academy when her life had been uprooted in order for her to sit on the Council. Jennifer harboured no ill will towards Rosemary, but that did not change the fact that the girl did not truly understand politics. She hadn’t even been alive during the civil war!

Carmen understood sacrifice, but Carmen had gotten out. She was safe in a suburb in Eiria with her family and her future. She had suffered, but she had also fled. How dare she deny Jennifer the same opportunity? The last four years had been insufferable. It was nothing compared to the Restricted Region, Jennifer had to admit. But that didn’t mean she was obligated to stay in this purgatory for a moment longer than necessary!

It wasn’t fair. She had been literally thirteen when she took the identity of Sonja Viratnen in order to flee her life, fight for DKS, and make a future for herself in spite of her birth. To be punished with four years in the hell that was Kerlile for such a minor offence, committed in her youth, was cruel. Why would she willingly stay even a second longer?

People wanted her to somehow save Kerlile from itself. Reform. It sounded so simple, so plausible, but what was the likelihood that it would work? Honestly, maybe 50/50 with the current makeup of the Council and their heirs. That still wasn’t Jennifer’s responsibility! She had been born into a Council family but how exactly did that mean she needed to sacrifice her life for the greater good?

People who hated hereditary rule would still criticise her for refusing to have any part in this. Like it wasn’t anathema to their views. Hereditary rule was cruel to everyone involved. It was cruel to those who never had the chance to rise to the highest heights; and it was equally cruel to those who wanted no part in leadership. What is hereditary governance but a system that places literal babies in positions they never asked for?

No. Jennifer would have no part of it.

“I am reclaiming my life for myself,” she said to the mirror. “There is nothing wrong with choosing to be happy. And to hell with anyone who says otherwise.”

*

Nobody stopped Jennifer Hale when she left her family estate with Amelia, her cousin Finlay, and her aide Emma Woodward. The four of them drove south, spotting no visible tails. When they began to approach the border exclusion zone, nothing happened. The staff checked Jennifer’s ID and nodded the car through. The second checkpoint was the same; except they would have to get out of the vehicle and cross on foot. Lauchenoiria didn’t allow Kerlian cars to cross the checkpoint.

The group did so, and Jennifer hesitated for a second, looking forward, and looking back. This was too easy. The world wasn’t like this. The world didn’t let good things happen to her. And yet, for once, everything was turning out perfectly. She stepped across.

And out from behind a building, instead of the Lauchenoirian border staff she expected, came Prime Minister Josephine Alvarez. The pair looked at each other for a moment. A heartbeat. The world stopped. And then Jennifer was running, and the security didn’t care, and Josephine and Jennifer embraced, both sobbing with happiness as the four-year-old Amelia clapped with glee; Finlay Hale smiled and Emma Woodward watched over the scene, content that everything was finally right.

“What about the politics?” whispered Jennifer.

“Tomorrow,” Josephine promised. “Let that be tomorrow’s problem.”

“I love you,” Jennifer said.

“I love you, too,” Josephine replied. “I never stopped. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t say this before. But I love you, Jennifer Hale of Kerlile. I love you whatever name you go by.”

And they kissed.