WA Delegate (non-executive): The Desert Republic of Nearly Finland (elected )
Founder: The Republic of Tessen
Last WA Update:
Today's World Census Report
The Largest Welfare Programs in American Union
Governments ranked highly spend the most on social welfare programs. Nations ranked low tend to have weak or non-existent government welfare.
As a region, American Union is ranked 9,434th in the world for Largest Welfare Programs.
|1.||The British Territory of New Britanna||Capitalist Paradise||“Munit Haec et Altera Vincit”|
|2.||The Democratic States of Cascadia and Columbia||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“Free and United We Stand”|
|3.||The Republic of British West Indies AU||Corporate Bordello||“He hath founded it upon the seas”|
|4.||The Parliamentary Democracy of British Canada AU||Corporate Bordello||“-”|
|5.||The Republic of Sandinista Nicaragua||Corrupt Dictatorship||“En Dios confiamos”|
|6.||The Kingdom of Medinan||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“Diu Vivat rex Operi Medinan”|
|7.||The Desert Republic of Nearly Finland||Civil Rights Lovefest||“Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno”|
|8.||The Republic of North Andia||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“Free, Independent, and Secure”|
|9.||The Confederate States of Dixie AU||Inoffensive Centrist Democracy||“Deo vindice”|
|10.||The Shadow Government of The Greys||Iron Fist Consumerists||“Go back to sleep”|
- : Imperial curacao ceased to exist.
- : Aconcaguaa ceased to exist.
- : Puerto rico au departed this region for American World.
- : Ivan industries departed this region for American World.
- : French caribbea departed this region for American World.
- : Frankish guiana departed this region for American World.
- : Santiago au departed this region for American World.
- : Cuba au departed this region for American World.
- : Arkhangelsk au departed this region for American World.
- : The Kingdom of Alitannia departed this region for American World.
American Union Regional Message Board
Aw... thanks, that's really reassuring to hear. The biggest obstacle to writing is just thinking that it's not good enough to post, that it's not interesting, that it's not genuine enough, or might be full of enough grammatical errors to look like the end product of google translate. I hope that's not just me.
December 23/24, 1917̃, Gallup, New Mexico.
Roger and Jay trodded along silently, only their small rainy patch of road illuminated by a tiny flashlight. Jay shivered - his new, oversized raincoat didn’t exactly help with the fact that he had already been soaked about as much as if he had been swimming across the english channel. Jay stared up at the invisible, all-absorbing sky, blinking rapidly as the raindrops fell like particularly unimpressive artillery shells. It occurred to him that aside from their dull, moving patch of road, absolutely nothing was visible. His biology knowledge was impressively unimpressive, but he was relatively sure that there were creatures that spent their entire lives underwater, too deep to even see a glimmer of the surface. Did they perceive a world beyond them, or, since it was not visible, was their layer of ocean the only thing that occupied any of their thoughts? Or… or perhaps deep-sea animals weren’t too big on philosophy. Then what about those fish that live near enough to the surface to glimpse it? That is, a particular fish that need never worry of fishermen. If the surface had no bearing on their life, did the fish ever notice it, or did they simply go about their instinctual life? Again, it was probably the latter, since these are fish. But what about people? We explore, yes, we think about things that have no bearing on our life, plenty. But, Jay thought, did we, did he, ever get too distracted with our tasks to look up every once in a while? Probably, him more than most. The opportunity to force this loose thought into meaning something was lost when his escort cleared his throat, with the frustrated loudness of a sentient lorry which has been started up via moose ramming.
While Jay didn’t mind dreaming up sentient fish to escape the downpour, Roger felt more like he was in a classroom during a major test, where nobody dares talk, but most are bored out of their minds. A classroom with no roof during a storm. Certainly, a conversation was a fine way to escape the fact that both of them were in varying states of miserable, though at least the lights of the town could navigate him. “So, friend…” Roger began, giving Jay the ‘are you insane, man?’ look, “I take it you’ve received some ill news. Would you be willing to talk about why it drove you out here?” Jay pondered it, wondering what the best response was. It wasn’t at if he was clear on the issue himself, but it seemed that Roger was in the mood to receive an explanation. Jay wasn’t about to make himself look more loony. “Lost someone. Don’t really know what to do.” When he ran those words through his mind, he didn’t react at all, but Jay couldn’t say them without having to suppress a tear. He wondered whether he still felt things, or if it was just his crude imitation of the correct reaction. Roger’s expression, which held both sympathy and curiosity, intensified. “Family? I’m sorry, you must have been close.” Jay nodded, but finally felt the need to express himself a little. “Yes, I’ve just… never been through this before. I’m not quite sure how to react.” Roger puzzled over this, trying to find something worth saying. “Well, you seem to be grieving quite naturally. There’s not really a set process, but I know how you feel.” A few house lights walked by. They were back in civilisation. “Clearly you don’t want to go into detail, and that’s quite fine. But personally, I find that a full discussion of events is healthy.” Roger said. Jay knew the mailman long enough to know his hobby wasn’t hearing about other people’s problems. Roger was genuinely trying to help - but the two of them were different people, and even if Jay didn’t have the details of his plausible insanity to hide, spelling out every specific was just not something he felt like doing. Conveniently, there was his bungalow - the same sort of light as the others, but it was home, and that made the lightbulb shine a little bit brighter. He stood in the doorway, only realizing the full extent of the cold now that he was out of it. “Thank you kindly for the advice, and the use of your spare raincoat, sir.” Jay said as he handed it back, ready to shut the door that was allowing all of the warm air to escape. Roger looked from side to side. “Actually,”, he said “I’ve got to go return this before someone realises that it has been borrowed. Have a wonderful, well, morning by this point, I suppose.” Once he had gone, Jay got right to work lighting the fireplace, then refilling his just-unpacked suitcase. Sleep? After the shock the letter gave him, he was about as liable to try that as a sentry. No, he was staying awake, whether by choice or not, and that required doing something. For example, preparing to go on a trip to Stanford.
Hey Tessen, got any free time coming up? I mean, we're so close to functional.
December 24, 1917̃, Gallup, New Mexico
As the air caught the first rays of the early-morning sun, Jay stood in the front yard of his boss’s house. It was downtown, but such a concept didn’t really exist here, where the horizon still felt open and mostly unobstructed. The unimposing house’s wall was made of a kind of smooth, rounded material, the tan surface of which nearly blended into the ground. He recognised it as an adobe-style house, made of thick mud walls to keep out the heat. His boss, a seasoned, bulldog-faced man with the last name of Robles, poked his head out grumpily. “Señor Walker? How can I help?” he half-muttered, his tone implying the “And why are you bothering me at this actually quite reasonable hour” question. Jay tugged at the little bag he was carrying, hoping his expression adequately implied that he knew not what the word sleep meant. “I’m sorry, boss, but I’m not going to be here for a little while. I have to go to North California, but, ah, I can’t really afford to not get paid leave. I know I have today and tomorrow off, but I may need a little longer than that.” Mr. Robles tilted his head a little in curiosity. “You started work not too long ago, and you want paid leave for an undetermined amount of time?” Jay searched for a reason, and, again, could only come up with the truth. “I’m sorry, boss. It’s a personal crisis, I have to visit a friend who’s in the hospital. I should be back by next week.” It was difficult to notice, but Mr. Robles’ hard expression softened slightly at this. He wasn’t completely cold. “Take all the time you need, and Merry Christmas to you.” he said with uncharacteristic conviction, then he disappeared back inside.
December 25, 1917̃, Palo Alto, North California
Here, the blue air was surrounded by a ring of the evening’s orange and yellow. These rings hovered atop hills or mountains, which themselves were shrouded by the haze of distance. Jay shuddered from a breeze, and the grass covering the nearby gently-sloping hills shared his reaction. He (and a few students who seemed to be philosophizing) overlooked a few buildings that mainly comprised of the Stanford University campus. Few and both clustered and scattered, the structures represented islands in the otherwise-unbroken sea of trees. With the events of the previous day fresh in his mind, and the uncomfortable ride of the train, he had barely gotten enough sleep to keep his record of never going a night completely without it. He had visited the campus a little earlier, and, thanks to his sleep deprivation, was initially surprised at how the buildings all looked, well, not quite modern. Stanford mostly looked more like an old hotel complex than the mecca of science and technology he was familiar with it being. A couple of small buildings were reduced to nothing but skeletal wooden remains, monuments to some past fire. But it was close enough to that mecca to be able to produce the medication Perle needed, though she had probably explained it to them in great detail. Perle had requested this meeting spot instead of a hospital visit, not wanting any friends to see her in the state of a hospital patient. Someone traveling up the path waved. He adjusted his ill-fitting new glasses, confirming it to be Perle. She looked rather gaunt from being confined to the hospital bed most of the time, walking uphill with great effort, maintaining a weak smile with great effort. They both sat at a picnic table at the top of the hill, presumably the official meeting-place of the survivors of their timeline. Given the crummy situation as of late, they both sat in silence for a minute, not finding the right words to start a conversation. It didn’t help that one of the students was reading a few metres away, which meant they probably shouldn’t talk too much about alternate-future-related subjects. Both of them started the standard greeting protocol at the same time, interrupting each other. “Hi, how are you doing?” The student assumed, like most of us do, that we are the protagonist in this story, and looked up at them. “Pretty well… Do I know you two?”
OOC: Unfortunately, I don't have enough time to write a new chapter for this week.
All good man. All good.