NationStates Jolt Archive

PCC Newsline

<The face of Heinrid Abadas, the Lord President of the Federal Government, and Chairman of the PCC Board of Directors, appears suddenly on the news screens, channels and nets throughout the world.

This is the first time he has ever done something like this. It's almost as if he's an actual president.>

"My fellow Santa Barbarans," he says in a somber tone. "As many of you are aware, I have always been a strong upholder of my beliefs, my faith. And part of those beliefs mean that marriage is a sacred and holy union of a man, a woman, and God. Some critics have argued that my views, and those of faithful Catholics throughout the many varied and rich lands God has granted us, are outmoded. Be that as it may, it has come to my attention that we can no longer refuse to give the same rights, however distasteful they may seem to the eyes of the Church and to this administration, to make a legal, lifelong consolidation of the bond between two consenting individuals of the same sex. In fact, some sociological viewpoints suggest that the criminalization of homosexual marriage only incourages an underground of homosexuality; and that by taking the so-called 'glamor' out of this underground, this move may even help reduce the willingness to stray from God's chosen path. This is my personal hope, but as President I can no longer limit and define my actions by my own personal preferences. As of now, and in the spirit of St. Valentine's Day, gay couples may legally bond and live together in the fashion they desire, in this great nation of Santa Barbara. Thank you, that is all."

Not a minute after the broadcast is made, an enthusiastic knocking comes from Abadas's door.

"Come in," he grunts reluctantly.

In pops the blonde-topped head of Sven Alexander, who is head of the PCC Market Planning department. He has a huge grin on his face.

"Good work, Heinrid! I'm glad to see your heart hasn't been too hardened. I'm sure this will be well-received. Keep it up!"

And then he's gone.

Heinrid is left alone, a wry, humorless smile on his face.

So that's the way you turn, is it, Mr Alexander? And you'll see just how hard Pharoah's heart can be. Oh, yes.

ooc: why do I have this feeling that the law will be repealed somewhere down the road in the near future, and a new one passed - putting to death all gay couples? Maybe because that's just how my mind thinks.......it would be delightfully devious though..... :wink:

*looks forward to the open acts of discrimination being foreshadowed...*

PCC Newsline

"In Puerto Oro, long known for it's more liberal sexual attitudes, the news was celebrated with parades and demonstrations of overwhelming support for the President. Some could even be found kneeling, crying tears of joy and open displays of affection for their fellow man..." <more on page A4>

"In Las Marias, Cabrillo, four inner city churches have already been booked for over 400 gay weddings to take place, as calls continue to flow in following the Lord President's unprecedented legislative act..." <more on page A4>

"Not everyone is overjoyed, and many demonstrators are protesting what is already called the 'liberalization of sexuality act;' big names include Cardinal Jameson of La Cumbre, Bishop Garcia, Lord High Executive Fernando and several others within Abadas's administration... SBNP forces have been dispatched in many key areas to keep the peace, but critics are doubtful that such a radical move can lead to anything but disaster..." <see REACTION on B10>

tag :evil:

"Odd thing that humans put so much stigma on something that exists for the procreation."- Zandar Wubba when he first learned of this

Zandar Wubba,
First Wubba
Federation of United Wubba Republics (FUWR)

Message from USSNR

Your nation shall henceforth provide an observation point for how stupid a decision it was to legalize Gay Marriage without The Peoples Will and Voice placed into it.

You are an Oppressive Regime, and if your People did vote, we wish nothing to have with what The People have Rallied Against in our Nation, hence none can be seen with same sex, only opposite sex.

"We ignore your demands and your viewpoints and need neither your input nor approval. Our internal affairs are our own."

-Foreign Ministry

You are an Oppressive Regime, and if your People did vote, we wish nothing to have with what The People have Rallied Against in our Nation, hence none can be seen with same sex, only opposite sex.

((ooc: Ouch. My brain hurts. Wasn’t there supposed to be a period, or at least a semi-colon, in that mess somewhere?))

IC: In Iansisle, a country long known for the apparent contradiction between its extremist libertarian government and its late-Victorian social attitudes, the Lord President’s announcement was met with some confusion. Many people were confused as to what ‘gay’ meant (“that means that happy people weren’t allowed to marry?” asked one bewildered old man sitting on a park bench.); when it was explained that sodomy was meant, several were disgusted.

“That’s sick, and I should hope the Lord is already on his way to smite them!” exclaimed religious fundamentalist Jerry Jameson, before slapping the person who told him such practices even existed. “That’s just the sort of perversion that should be swept under the carpet, not brought into the national lime light like this!” Naturally, no one paid any attention to him.

The government quickly looked over the old law books; they discovered that gay marriage was not legal in Iansisle, but neither was it illegal. Apparently, the governments that had gone before saw no reason for a secular regime to be at all involved in personal matters such as that. The books were closed back up unchanged, and life went on much the way it had before.

"Male sodomy is an act of evil. It is our hope that the Santa Barbarans come to repent before it is too late."

~ Cardinal Schatenfurst

Haaregradia is stunned and very proud(OOC: best word I could think of) of this recent decision. We congratulate Santa Barbara on their acceptance of equal rights for people of all sexual orientations.

-President Lenin

We of Sketch frown heavily upon these so-called "gay marriages". We neither understand nor care to understand the reasoning behind this sudden change of Santa Barbarian policey. However, while we may strongly disagree with the acceptance of deviant behaviour, even to the point of providing renewed guidance, we will..........respect the Santa Barbarian right to self-regulation. It is our fervent hope that the leader(s) of Santa Barabara will realize the error of their ways and return to the righteous path. In the mean time, we will remind all that our laws apply to all persons on Sketchian land and will be upheld without failure.

- an official press release from the Department of Foreign Relations

[ooc: damn the forums, I meant to post this yesterday but it was impossible. Note, because the forums are slow right now too, this will probably multi-post, and NO I DONT CLICK THE STUPID SUBMIT OR REFRESH BUTTON MORE THAN ONCE. Thank you.]

"Oh, I KNOW!" said Shondra, leaning forward conspiratorially and widening her eyes. Her Lace-Tintown sticky leather, her sleeveless t-shirt.

"And her hair? God, she was such a manhugger. I hate to gossip, but damn girl," continued Hal, aged 62 but looking 43, her large shirt folded and hanging clumsily over her large torso. It was black, and it said "FreedomCo" on it in white, shimmering text. Sometimes they would shimmer to various pale pinks, blues, what-have-you.

"I think she's doing Cacy, too. Cacy and Sven and, oh, you know, what's her name, that brunette bitch... Megan?"

"That's her. Sven, I didn't know, I thought she was straight-"

"Mm-mmh," Hal shook her head with some drama. "That girl was into beaver or your wife ain't Halycon Spring."

"Sto-oop!" exclaimed Shondra, grinning exasperatedly.

The place, Sandra552's, was a coffee slash g-net bar, and they had each a double-frappa-cappa-supa-latte, the bar's lame copy of GladBurger's UBERlatte, (the yearly profits from which could have bought "Sandra" and ten of her sized corporations.) It was dimly lit and red in one place, yellow white in another. The red section, which they were in, had the effect of smoothening the appearances of things like skin, and at this time Shondra thought about how beautiful her lover and wife was.

Hal turned back to the computer screen. They'd rented it for 33 minutes, and had just a few left. "Smile," she said.

Shondra leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Hal's shoulders and neck in an awkward but, somehow, very natural looking move. She then placed a gentle kiss on Hal's cheek, and then lips as she turned to meet her.

The image was broadcast instantly to about a dozen online friends of theirs, mostly other couples and almost all bi- or homosexual. All but one, who used a display built from composite compiled similar videos and interactions, and projected by custom-produced software by a quantum computer for perfect image, sound, and in some cases, all other sensations.

However, Sandra552's was not a place for that sort of thing. Unlike before, when same-sex relationships were not shunned but simply forbidden, now they were allowed but shunned. Sandra552's was more tolerant than most places, and had quite a few Mister and Mister and Missus and Missus So-and-so's as regulars. But the activities allowed here were only as much as the corporation could afford; liberty only as much as there was revenue. Sandra552 had seen better years.

"Cmon," Shondra murmered. "Let's get to bed... get some warm food for dinner..."

Hal actually blushed at that, but in the red light it wasn't noticable. She replied (in text) to their viewers that they had to go home and do some stuff. (She added five emoticons.) Then she signed off, and stood up, turning to look at Shondra. Shondra was taller, and blonde, and in a way that angered Hal with envy. But she kept those feelings hidden right now.

The two left the red place. The shift in light was disorienting, and they laughed about it all on the way home, cooling the flame by unspoken consent, not wanting to disturb the taxi driver and get them thrown out of the cab, babbled at angrily in some other language, and have to find someone, probably some man to give them a lift.

-

Hal and Shondra shared a single apartment on the corner of 18th and 345th, not far from where they both worked, (at The Cabrillo Salvation Company, one of the largest nonprofit recycled beans distributors in the city).

It had the advantage, for the first team, of being on the fifteenth floor, which was fairly high (for that building). It took only 3 minutes to enter via the roof drop-off, through the smelly sprawl of the low rent quarters, and reach the apartment without any mishaps.

The team leader, 334 dash 4 (today), a burly mecha-genetweak, "fresh out of the MegaFactory" as the OP liked to say, didn't want anything less than perfection. It wasn't his call though. The older one had been assigned control over this mission, and dash 4 was blatantly opposed to this. True, dash 8 had more experience. So what. It was all about who could do the job right, and dash 8 was sloppy, seemingly careless.

On the way into the apartment (the couple's security system was easily and skillfully neutralized, the door yielding, dash 5 and 1 already securing the inside), word came through the perscom, the targets were approaching the building.

Dash 8 finally looked around at his comrades. Their faces, all motionless, staring back at him. He nodded. The area was secure. The door was closed.

-

Their ears heard Shondra's nasal voice two floors below. The two of them walking up the stairs from the magnelevator. Still a few dozen yards away now.

Keys. Murmurs of sexual promises. Dash 4 stood in silence. His weapon was ready, but not estimated to be necessary. He did not achieve, in any of this, a state at all considered "relaxed."

Nor did he allow himself any emotions about the upcoming task or the nature of the targets or their environments, except in how it would all relate to the objectives.

-

Shondra opened the door for Hal, in the gentle way a daughter might do for her mother, but with a seductive smile perched on her face. She swung the door open, then looked inside. "Lights," she said, as Hal came in. The lights did not come on. She walked inside. "Lights! Lights dammit-- do we have to fix this again," she moaned, not sounding particularly interested. After all, no one needed the main lights just to--

-
There was a thump.

"Tie her."

Hal exclaimed, "Mm mm mm!?" in outrage. The tape keeping her lips together also muted the sound, such that few but the likes of genetweaks and enhanced could hear it at all.

The lights, she noted wearily, would probably continue to be off. "MMm?" she asked, again, realizing that Shondra would not hear her, even if she were in a position to respond. Something hard and metallic, yet flexible, like a steel whip, bound her hands behind her, and a hand pressed forward on her back, nearly lifting the large woman by the wrists alone.

Dash 8, of course, had no trouble seeing in the darkness of the apartment, nor did the rest of the team. He looked down at the fallen woman, the one called Shondra. Then he looked up again, with an odd look temporarily on his face. Dash 4 was confused, and was about to speak.

"I have orders," dash 8 then said, looking straight at him. It was convincing, but at the same time irrelevant. Get on with it already, thought dash 4.

He did.

He walked up to the second woman, the one they would not be taking. Tilting his head quizzically, with a sly look he gently pulled the tape up from the lesbian's mouth.

"What are you doing? Where's Shondra?" she said, the tape obstructing the words but no longer rendering them indecipherable. This was clearly obstructing the mission, dash 4 thought, but if he had orders- well, it wasn't that loud, and the walls obstructed normal hearing well enough--

...dash 8 seemed to snort, or laugh. "Do you love her?" he asked quietly. His voice was totally dispassionate, in the model of the Mallbertans whom the OP modeled it's training after. But, to dash 4, he sounded almost as if he was about to laugh. Impossible, of course, even for dash 8--

"Yes. Who are you?" she replied, trying to sound defiant, calm and confident all at once.

Dash 8 almost snorted again. The exhalation was very minor. To the woman called Hal, dash 8 appeared to be just as calm as she wasn't. He said simply, "How interesting."

He motioned, and the tape was pressed back on. She protested, vainly. The wristbinders were too strong, and the OP agent holding her had no problems controlling her. She stopped protesting, and merely tried to convey that she demanded to know what was going on.

Dash 4 glanced at the door. Dash 8 ignored it. He appeared to bring up a data screen, staring off into space. Then he looked back, nodding. This meant the movers would shortly arrive, with their refridgerator carts. There were a lot more refridgerator carts these days. The manufacturers were happy. Their sales outstripped those of refridgerators by a vast margin.

It was time to go.

But dash 8 delayed a moment longer. He then said something unexpected: "She will be taken. With the rest like her and you."

Dash 4 finally broke discipline. "Orders?"

Dash 8 glanced again at him, shruggingly. He looked down at the Hal woman again. There was definite contempt. But then the look was removed. The Hal woman was mm-mmhing again, doubtless wondering what will become of her.

"You'll be detained. Imprisoned. Eliminated. And then I think, either food or someone's new kidney and heart," dash 8 said. While it may be true, it wasn't protocol to say anything of the sort. "Maybe not the organs. Just food, I think."

"MMm?" she squirmed emphatically. She had either accepted or completely denied the horror of the fate described, and now wondered why, why anyone would do this. What had they done to deserve it. Surely not their frowned-upon marriage. For while frowned upon, it was legalized by the President himself, Lord Heinrid Abadas, just a few months ago--

Dash 8 seemed to understand the question well enough, words or no. He answered, a smile and shrug obvious (to dash 4 anyway) on his face. "April Fool's, I guess."

-

Dash 4 recorded it, of course, and realized he would likely head the next mission. Dash 8 was obviously cracking up.

Dash 4 said nothing, but burned holes in dash 8's eyes with his glare. Finally he took the hint. The agent turned and left without another word, leaving the Hal woman to contemplate her fate, like so many millions of other married couples in the months to come.

-

The movers would receive the targets, whose unconsciousness had been rendered without struggle, tools, blood, gas or anything else that would leave a forwarding address, and ship them off, listening to tunes, jostling each other like overgrown teenagers, and in general not being noticed by anyone. There were so many millions in the cities, everyone moving something. Who's gonna notice, a few more trees in the forest?

[ooc: damn the forums, I meant to post this yesterday but it was impossible. Note, because the forums are slow right now too, this will probably multi-post, and NO I DONT CLICK THE STUPID SUBMIT OR REFRESH BUTTON MORE THAN ONCE. Thank you.]

"Oh, I KNOW!" said Shondra, leaning forward conspiratorially and widening her eyes. Her Lace-Tintown sticky leather, her sleeveless t-shirt.

"And her hair? God, she was such a manhugger. I hate to gossip, but damn girl," continued Hal, aged 62 but looking 43, her large shirt folded and hanging clumsily over her large torso. It was black, and it said "FreedomCo" on it in white, shimmering text. Sometimes they would shimmer to various pale pinks, blues, what-have-you.

"I think she's doing Cacy, too. Cacy and Sven and, oh, you know, what's her name, that brunette bitch... Megan?"

"That's her. Sven, I didn't know, I thought she was straight-"

"Mm-mmh," Hal shook her head with some drama. "That girl was into beaver or your wife ain't Halycon Spring."

"Sto-oop!" exclaimed Shondra, grinning exasperatedly.

The place, Sandra552's, was a coffee slash g-net bar, and they had each a double-frappa-cappa-supa-latte, the bar's lame copy of GladBurger's UBERlatte, (the yearly profits from which could have bought "Sandra" and ten of her sized corporations.) It was dimly lit and red in one place, yellow white in another. The red section, which they were in, had the effect of smoothening the appearances of things like skin, and at this time Shondra thought about how beautiful her lover and wife was.

Hal turned back to the computer screen. They'd rented it for 33 minutes, and had just a few left. "Smile," she said.

Shondra leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Hal's shoulders and neck in an awkward but, somehow, very natural looking move. She then placed a gentle kiss on Hal's cheek, and then lips as she turned to meet her.

The image was broadcast instantly to about a dozen online friends of theirs, mostly other couples and almost all bi- or homosexual. All but one, who used a display built from composite compiled similar videos and interactions, and projected by custom-produced software by a quantum computer for perfect image, sound, and in some cases, all other sensations.

However, Sandra552's was not a place for that sort of thing. Unlike before, when same-sex relationships were not shunned but simply forbidden, now they were allowed but shunned. Sandra552's was more tolerant than most places, and had quite a few Mister and Mister and Missus and Missus So-and-so's as regulars. But the activities allowed here were only as much as the corporation could afford; liberty only as much as there was revenue. Sandra552 had seen better years.

"Cmon," Shondra murmered. "Let's get to bed... get some warm food for dinner..."

Hal actually blushed at that, but in the red light it wasn't noticable. She replied (in text) to their viewers that they had to go home and do some stuff. (She added five emoticons.) Then she signed off, and stood up, turning to look at Shondra. Shondra was taller, and blonde, and in a way that angered Hal with envy. But she kept those feelings hidden right now.

The two left the red place. The shift in light was disorienting, and they laughed about it all on the way home, cooling the flame by unspoken consent, not wanting to disturb the taxi driver and get them thrown out of the cab, babbled at angrily in some other language, and have to find someone, probably some man to give them a lift.

-

Hal and Shondra shared a single apartment on the corner of 18th and 345th, not far from where they both worked, (at The Cabrillo Salvation Company, one of the largest nonprofit recycled beans distributors in the city).

It had the advantage, for the first team, of being on the fifteenth floor, which was fairly high (for that building). It took only 3 minutes to enter via the roof drop-off, through the smelly sprawl of the low rent quarters, and reach the apartment without any mishaps.

The team leader, 334 dash 4 (today), a burly mecha-genetweak, "fresh out of the MegaFactory" as the OP liked to say, didn't want anything less than perfection. It wasn't his call though. The older one had been assigned control over this mission, and dash 4 was blatantly opposed to this. True, dash 8 had more experience. So what. It was all about who could do the job right, and dash 8 was sloppy, seemingly careless.

On the way into the apartment (the couple's security system was easily and skillfully neutralized, the door yielding, dash 5 and 1 already securing the inside), word came through the perscom, the targets were approaching the building.

Dash 8 finally looked around at his comrades. Their faces, all motionless, staring back at him. He nodded. The area was secure. The door was closed.

-

Their ears heard Shondra's nasal voice two floors below. The two of them walking up the stairs from the magnelevator. Still a few dozen yards away now.

Keys. Murmurs of sexual promises. Dash 4 stood in silence. His weapon was ready, but not estimated to be necessary. He did not achieve, in any of this, a state at all considered "relaxed."

Nor did he allow himself any emotions about the upcoming task or the nature of the targets or their environments, except in how it would all relate to the objectives.

-

Shondra opened the door for Hal, in the gentle way a daughter might do for her mother, but with a seductive smile perched on her face. She swung the door open, then looked inside. "Lights," she said, as Hal came in. The lights did not come on. She walked inside. "Lights! Lights dammit-- do we have to fix this again," she moaned, not sounding particularly interested. After all, no one needed the main lights just to--

-
There was a thump.

"Tie her."

Hal exclaimed, "Mm mm mm!?" in outrage. The tape keeping her lips together also muted the sound, such that few but the likes of genetweaks and enhanced could hear it at all.

The lights, she noted wearily, would probably continue to be off. "MMm?" she asked, again, realizing that Shondra would not hear her, even if she were in a position to respond. Something hard and metallic, yet flexible, like a steel whip, bound her hands behind her, and a hand pressed forward on her back, nearly lifting the large woman by the wrists alone.

Dash 8, of course, had no trouble seeing in the darkness of the apartment, nor did the rest of the team. He looked down at the fallen woman, the one called Shondra. Then he looked up again, with an odd look temporarily on his face. Dash 4 was confused, and was about to speak.

"I have orders," dash 8 then said, looking straight at him. It was convincing, but at the same time irrelevant. Get on with it already, thought dash 4.

He did.

He walked up to the second woman, the one they would not be taking. Tilting his head quizzically, with a sly look he gently pulled the tape up from the lesbian's mouth.

"What are you doing? Where's Shondra?" she said, the tape obstructing the words but no longer rendering them indecipherable. This was clearly obstructing the mission, dash 4 thought, but if he had orders- well, it wasn't that loud, and the walls obstructed normal hearing well enough--

...dash 8 seemed to snort, or laugh. "Do you love her?" he asked quietly. His voice was totally dispassionate, in the model of the Mallbertans whom the OP modeled it's training after. But, to dash 4, he sounded almost as if he was about to laugh. Impossible, of course, even for dash 8--

"Yes. Who are you?" she replied, trying to sound defiant, calm and confident all at once.

Dash 8 almost snorted again. The exhalation was very minor. To the woman called Hal, dash 8 appeared to be just as calm as she wasn't. He said simply, "How interesting."

He motioned, and the tape was pressed back on. She protested, vainly. The wristbinders were too strong, and the OP agent holding her had no problems controlling her. She stopped protesting, and merely tried to convey that she demanded to know what was going on.

Dash 4 glanced at the door. Dash 8 ignored it. He appeared to bring up a data screen, staring off into space. Then he looked back, nodding. This meant the movers would shortly arrive, with their refridgerator carts. There were a lot more refridgerator carts these days. The manufacturers were happy. Their sales outstripped those of refridgerators by a vast margin.

It was time to go.

But dash 8 delayed a moment longer. He then said something unexpected: "She will be taken. With the rest like her and you."

Dash 4 finally broke discipline. "Orders?"

Dash 8 glanced again at him, shruggingly. He looked down at the Hal woman again. There was definite contempt. But then the look was removed. The Hal woman was mm-mmhing again, doubtless wondering what will become of her.

"You'll be detained. Imprisoned. Eliminated. And then I think, either food or someone's new kidney and heart," dash 8 said. While it may be true, it wasn't protocol to say anything of the sort. "Maybe not the organs. Just food, I think."

"MMm?" she squirmed emphatically. She had either accepted or completely denied the horror of the fate described, and now wondered why, why anyone would do this. What had they done to deserve it. Surely not their frowned-upon marriage. For while frowned upon, it was legalized by the President himself, Lord Heinrid Abadas, just a few months ago--

Dash 8 seemed to understand the question well enough, words or no. He answered, a smile and shrug obvious (to dash 4 anyway) on his face. "April Fool's, I guess."

-

Dash 4 recorded it, of course, and realized he would likely head the next mission. Dash 8 was obviously cracking up.

Dash 4 said nothing, but burned holes in dash 8's eyes with his glare. Finally he took the hint. The agent turned and left without another word, leaving the Hal woman to contemplate her fate, like so many millions of other married couples in the months to come.

-

The movers would receive the targets, whose unconsciousness had been rendered without struggle, tools, blood, gas or anything else that would leave a forwarding address, and ship them off, listening to tunes, jostling each other like overgrown teenagers, and in general not being noticed by anyone. There were so many millions in the cities, everyone moving something. Who's gonna notice, a few more trees in the forest?

Haaregradia is stunned and very proud(OOC: best word I could think of) of this recent decision. We congratulate Santa Barbara on their acceptance of equal rights for people of all sexual orientations.

-President Lenin

Ditto

".... And Santa Barbara has legalised homosexual marriage."

Said Citizen Wagner; briefing Citizen Manfred on international developments.

"Really? That socially backward hell hole? This is good news..."

"What do you mean, Citizen sir?"

"Think about it, Citizen Wagner! This is a most liberal move for such an oppressive and *eurgh* Corporate regime. A liberalisation means that they have softened themeselves, made themselves more generous. This could be the first paving stone in the freeway of a glorious revolution!"

Wagner's left eyebrow raised.

"Wagner, send Santa Barbara this message."

Wagner took the offered postit and walked out of the room.


The Proletarian Revolutionary Political and Administrative Bureau is content with this liberalisation of the People's rights and offers our sincere congratulations at this milestone.

Citizen Manfred
High Chancellor
The Commonwealth of New Proletarianism

"Proletarianism with a human face!"

"More congratulatory messages, this one from New Proletarianism."

"Good, good. It is as you said."

Fernando nodded. "I remember when Toby first proposed the UN Resolution. I too had the same gut-instinct reaction toward it."

"Unlike that one, though, we stand to gain more from this than merely crushing the opposition," suggested the Lord President, "Let's open up trade with this New Proletarianism. They may be a bunch of commies, but they could use our goods."

"Shall I write up a standard response? Improved relations, free or limited trade directly through us? Lower interest rates than they could possibly hope for?"

"Yes. Matter of fact, no, send this one to Miss Timothy. She is the Foreign Minister, after all."

Fernando nodded, and that was that.


We receive your congratulations with honor and gratitude, coming from an equally socially progressive state. These recent developments in the course of our history have lead to many changes in our social structure, which we naturally wish to incourage. With your cooperation, this administration would like to open new possibilities for mutually beneficial trade between our two states. Perhaps, we may open formal diplomatic channels for this, that the future may be built on what we do today?

We receive your congratulations with honor and gratitude, coming from an equally socially progressive state. These recent developments in the course of our history have lead to many changes in our social structure, which we naturally wish to incourage. With your cooperation, this administration would like to open new possibilities for mutually beneficial trade between our two states. Perhaps, we may open formal diplomatic channels for this, that the future may be built on what we do today?


We thank Santa Barbara for its progressive attitude towards us. Most Capitalist nations cringe with fear. Since you are willing to open trade negotiations with us, it is our custom to be honest with whom we are dealing with. Here is a free pamphlet with our philosophical and political beliefs. We believe that we should have no illusions about what we are entering into.



The Proletarian Manifesto

Communism is an unworkable system. Proletarianism seeks the emancipation of the working class through prosperity rather than through arms and revolutions. We seek peace and coexistance rather than war and death.

Citizens of the Proletariat all vote for the government, a compulsory system to accurately approximate the will of the people. They also vote on the most important issues.

Citizens of the Proletariat may own factories as a normal capitalist would. Remaining profit; after a tax deduction and expenses, is divided equally amongst the workers. The owners benefit would be a title, 'Honoured Citizen' which all the other citizens must respect and show courtesy to. Class differences are removed by the absence of a wage difference. The only difference would be that they would have gained honour, prestige and respect.

Economically, we see the system as viable. The whole of society will be consumers, buying the products of the other factories and guaranteeing that their is always a supply. Competition is regulated however by the government to avoid destroying businesses through out-competitiveness.
The unemployed get a wage, but that is enough to sustain them until they get a job.
The lazy and unproductive, designated by the local efficiency supervisor have their share of the profit; their wage cut accordingly.
The unfortunate disabled are given an average societal wage.

Healthcare and education are to be funded by the government and are to be given priority in the new order. The military are also funded by the government.
All government employees who perform well are given their titles.

We believe that once we can move the system to a state of prosperous economic production; we can begin exporting our ideas into the world through peaceful diplomatic, political and social means rather than through the imperialist and greedy methods of Capitalist and Communist nations. Both sides are regarded with suspicion but we still treat them with respect.

May you make a wise decision.

Citizen Manfred
High Chancellor
The Commonwealth of New Proletarianism

"Proletarianism with a human face!"