NationStates Jolt Archive

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Date: 12 January 2005 00:00:01 -0500
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Subject Woomera
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Final Report
1/12/05

They know nothing.

Every night my teeth rest in a glass and every morning I have a bowel
movement and I couldn't even begin to get it up these days. My eyes are
hollow and bloodshot and my wife left me fifteen years ago. My children are
callow monsters who laugh at me and the ideals I cherish and vote fools into
office because they saw them on MTV.

They know nothing.

My generation supposedly saved the world from the forces of darkness. Now
everyone thinks that evil died in 1945--or was it 1989? They think that things
will never be that bad again. They think the apocalypse, the end of all we hold
dear, just isn't going to happen.

They know nothing. But they know enough.

And that is the danger.

We will blind the world. I have had enough. There is a single answer to
ignorance. And that is ignorance. I press the button, and with that, the world
will be alight. The towers will grow. And now, I realize, that this is the only
way. The only way to open our eyes. Before its too late.

My name matters not to me. But the light is coming.

And I will love it.

:: transmitted 1323 est 1/12/05::PGP encoding enabled::
<eof>
______________________________________________________________________________

Slowly, the ground shook. The entire continent was blanketed with a white wave of fire. Pillars of smoke and unearthly flame began to climb, the birds scattered as life ends. No soul was truly untouched by that day. That event. It was earth-shattering.

Remember when they told you the world could end, that everything dear to you could disappear with a single click of a button, that every moment could bring the apocalypse you dreaded, that a single missile could murder millions, that the world was on the brink of collapse, a world which even deterance could not prevent?

It was all too true now. And finally, people realized this.

There has never been such an act of senseless violence. Never before has millions died in such huge numbers out of war, out of conflict, out of need. But it happened. Now one hundred million people are dead. All within five hours. Five hours. Nobody will forget this incident. Not for another thousand years.

But they are all fools. They do not look under the net, the web, the connections, the lies, the truth, the media. You must never look at what was. It is never what truly is. Look beyond the weave of reality. Look into tru7th. Not truth. Truth no longer exists. Perception exists. What is the other perception we find behind our own?

Welcome to the game of kings.
______________________________________________________________________________

Woomera Deirradiation Facility
Approx. 200 miles Southeast of Uluru Habitation Center, Nerve Control Center for Australia
January 13th, 2006
Friday, 1300 hours

The cleanup had already been going on for a year. You could see what had happened already. The Woomera Incident was most remembered here, in Woomera, where most of the government had been focusing its developmental efforts on. Already had been constructed the rocketry facilities, along with a detention center and this unique deirradiation facility. It wasn't much. It did what it could to stave off the encroaching nuclear winter. But Australia had already been coated with it, it was a hopeless cause. Mostly, the employees knew that it was for no more than propaganda purposes, one hope for the future. It was the kind of crap the sheep at home ate up like drugs.

Calvin knew really all about the way this business was handled. It was alot like sheep herding. Putting them in their pens, now so eloquently called "habitation centers." Calvin grew up in a society without love for "Our President," without State Committees, without the gentle reassurance of public information. Most people had little choice when sorted during the Partition as they were placed in their places, geographic and in society. It was a bit sickening to Calvin.

But there wasn't much room to complain. Perhaps that was why he was on security detail at this remote hellhole in the middle of a nuclear wasteland. Yeah, he remembered Woomera, but he forgot mostly what it was about. The government, wait, excuse me, the State didn't like to talk about that Incident unless it served their political interests abroad. He was surprised there was this much information available to him. Long nights could provide you with much.

But that's the thing. The information is all there. He was amazed that groups like Høyesterett were not able to be able and let this information spread and get support behind it. But after a while, from his, "detached" position from the rest of the society, he realized why. People didn't want change. They were not just conditioned, but they seemed naturally attuned to simply listening what was told to them. There really wasn't anything Calvin could do about it.

He gripped the gun, there was a light clicking. He turned his head a bit, he had been thinking too much, must have gone into a doze. Raising the assault rifle, he let out a little curse. It was against orders to address trespassers. Not even to ask for them to leave, or reveal themselves. Shoot on sight. The laser sighting of the rifle traced through the blackness, lit dimly by the clear starry sky. He couldn't get that clicking out of his head. That sound.... Wire. Turning his gun to the razor-wire fence, he pinpointed the source. Catching an outline, he stepped forward and leveled the sights.

And just like he was ordered, he squeezed on the trigger. But there was a thud, and he was knocked forward. Pain shot up down his neck and crippled him to his knees. Blood, he could feel it begin to trickle down his nose, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Something had cracked.. Dropping the gun, he looked up, vision blurry as figures began to close in around them. White.. Gray uniforms? Canes.. Hats. And voices. "Its good we found you so quickly.." "There are much more painful methods." "Are you listening to me, boy?"

Steel vice-grip around his chin as his head was yanked upwards. Sweet shots of pain once again from his neck, but if he spoke it would make it worse. Focusing his eyes, the man holding him seemed to laugh. It was a man? One eye. One black eye closing around him. Hand replaced by the cold steel of a cane pressing him up to his feet, he choked upon the end. Then he was dropped, and as he hit the ground, he quickly lost consciousness. More of want, than need.
______________________________________________________________________________

The Diet
The Capitol Habitation Center, Hyperborea
Unknown Time
Est. Four Weeks After Previous

What happened during.. Oh, he didn't even bother to count. He barely wanted to remember. Whatever they did to him, it was pressed out of him. But he had frustrated them. No psychoses, not even speaking under the most duress possible. Hell, he even broke through the dosages of unity serum. But it really wasn't much use fighting. What information was he hiding? What the hell did they want from him?

Leather. He was seated. The bruises were gone. He actually had some clothes on, and could see. Barely, it was dimly lit. That seemed to be common among these types. In his.. Spare time, he had been guessing at who could be doing this. He didn't really reach many conclusions. He was a security officer at the WDIF, what purpose beyond that could he serve? Rubbing his fingers over his temples, he took a long sigh. There was a smell of smoke. Across from him, in an identical chair, sat a simple and calm man, rather aged he would guess, who didn't speak, just stared from under his inspecting glasses. This didn't keep Calvin from saying nothing.

"So, what's with the accommodations, doc?"

"Mr. Calvin Gallus?"

"You would know more than me."

The older man seemed more amused than frustrating, moving forward to place his chin on his hands as he took another look at the young Australian male. Mr. Calvin Gallus? Bullshit, this man wants something. Better play nice if I'm gonna get back out.

"Mr. Gallus.." Calvin had not expected such an.. American accent. "Its been brought to our attention you have a few personal problems with the new state?"

"Hell, I went to Uluru like any other real Aussie, to save my ass. I didn't sign a contract where my life could be thrown around like a ragdoll, and used like a little puppet for a bunch of rich old guy's amusement."

"Would you rather we had placed you in the nuclear blast? It can be arranged, if you want to make th-"

"Hey, don't you put that damn sarcasm on me! I never said that. My point was that we were told these... Conditions."

"If you could calm down, Mr. Gallus." "Call me Calvin. It pisses me off when people call me mister." "Calvin, we do not intend harm. However, this society was built on a very basic principle. You know more than most of our citizens. But as the motto goes-" "Truth is a privilege, innocence is a luxury, right?" "Precisely, Calvin."

The poor kid really didn't know what was going on. Raising his head, he looked straight at the older man, whom still seemed to study with detached interest the former security guard. Smirking a bit, Calvin Gallus returned the look, examining the calculating face of his interrogator. This didn't seem to unnerve him however. Finally, he spoke, breaking under the pressure of the unforgiving, judgmental gaze.

"What does any of this have to do with me, Agent Smith?"

"Call me Richard. The point I am trying to make, is that by learning even a tiny bit of information as you did, you caused a large problem. You did not have the capacity, nor the clearance, to effectively handle the knowledge. You snapped Calvin. You became a danger to our society."

"Wait just a moment here, I didn-"

"Let me finish, if you will. Ignorance is the way our society runs. Those with too much information eventually turn... Radical. They became dangerous, violent. We know you've had contacts with a Mr. Dzernisky. You do know that Mr. Dzernisky was a member of the terrorists, Calvin? The enemy?"

The man would not call them by their name. The government hardly ever did. They were the faceless enemy. The radical legion. They wanted to go into your homes, murder you in your sleep and shoot your babies. They wanted to take your money, your jobs, and your life. Høyesterett, that was their name. Calvin never liked their "all-or-nothing" methods. But the "Supreme Court" dispensed justice as they pleased. Apparently, the man's question was rhetorical, as he continued.

"You knew of this, and you knew the risks. Fraternizing with a terrorist group is a crime. A crime punishable by vaporization." A punishment worse than death, to be completely erased from memory. Calvin thinks he read about it in a book of some sort, before the "Hyperboreans" moved into the neighborhood. He can't remember the book anymore. "But, conversely.. There is a point where knowing more is better. You were unable to be broken by our re-education conditioning. You managed to frustrate even our premier psychopaths. For this, I congratulate."

The old man chuckled, adjusting his glasses. Calvin didn't like the sound of that laugh. The man stood up and began to walk to the side, beckoning Calvin to follow. "Let me show you a few things." Pressing an unseen panel on the wall, a door hissed open. Consumed by a mix of curiosity and confusion, Calvin could really do no more than stand up, and follow. Standing next to Richard in the smaller "room", he looked as the door closed, and then the room they were in began to rise smoothly. The lift rose up, and soon its windowed sides were open. Calvin took a few steps, and looked out. He blinked.

The Capitol. But it was nothing as he had imagined. It was not what he had seen in the informational feeds. It was not what he was told it would be.

It was gray, perhaps even polluted, a concrete, steel, and glass jungle, all subterranean. Lights shone dimly, red alarms and stark white spotlights. Traffic was slow, public transportation consumed all. The effective magrail systems allowed for extremely fast travel, and the city was quietly, productively, ignorantly, innocently, blissfully at work.

Calvin turned back to Richard, who gave a smile. "Do you not see? Ignorance protects us. With truth, we see that we cannot build the society our mind lies to us is possible. But if we accept lies, we can slowly make those lies truths. Even if this society now, looks dank and wretched to you, understand we are building the new society. Why do we seek the new culture of the Hyperborean? Ancient knowledge of forgotten Lemuria? We build a new society. And not without help. I'm sure we will get to that later." The lift stopped, and the door opened. Beckoning the simply speechless Calvin to follow, Richard stepped into a small boardroom, where a large viewscreen was visible.

The door hissed shut behind him and Richard activated the viewscreen, which glowed bright before turning back to black, loading its program. Richard took this pause to step to the other side of the table, looking at the holographic projector at the center of the table.

"Calvin, you know of Uluru, and the Capitol. That is expected of you. But you do not know the extent of our project. Australia is a broken continent. We are fixing that, you were a part of that effort. You called our work lies. To us, its progress."

The viewscreen blinked on containing a vast stream of numerical and textual information. All in a language of strange words, yet it was Latinized. Calvin simply did not understand. Richard pressed a button on the projector, and materializing before them was a globe, with various labels and color schemes. Using the orb on his end, Richard moved it so that the south pole of the globe was centered towards Calvin. He could see also Australia, and the Indian Ocean as it was adjusted further.

"The habitation centers you deride are more than you think. Here in Hyperborea, we have three." He walked to Calvin's side to demonstrate, pointing his pen to a few points of interest. "We of course have the Capitol, where you are located now. There is also Veritas, here on the coast to the west. Logos can be found closer to the east, but it is the sister city to Veritas. Between them is a subterranean network we have built as a prototype of future projects to connect the hab-centers. Of course you never heard of it. Only those within Veritas or Logos know. We keep you isolated so that you are more focused on personal issues. State-wide issues are to be handled by the State and the State only.

"We have five outside of land. They are built mostly for resource collection, such as kelp to create food and various plant life for pharmaceuticals. We also collect oil, although we currently are devleoping hydrogen fuel cell technology and currently reliant on nuclear power mainly. But we need oil to synthesize current plastics, before few found alternative sources. Here is the Big Shell, Shell-01. Its the largest population we have. There are two more Shells, and then there are the two Subshells here. They are our underwater prototypes. Subshell-02 has been exceedingly successful."

"To Australia. We have four operating habitation centers, more currently being developed. Once Woomera has been deirridiated, we intend on constructing one there. Here, in Uluru, is the one you are familiar with. It was built into the Rock as a shelter during the Incident. I'll get to that in a moment. Here, we have New Melbourne, Darwin, and we also have Jiwali. The Aboriginals you once kept oppressed in your society are now more numerous than your kind, they have been liberated by us. They have proven themselves more advanced than you. Does that trouble you?"

The information was immense, but Calvin took it in. He slowly began to realize what was occurring. There was a change in him. Damnit, maybe that state conditioning was kicking in, but he was begin to.. Agree with the man. This society.. Calvin took in the information simply because he was told to, and he was afraid that not doing so would most likely end with his death.

"The Woomera Incident. You were alive during that time. It was exactly one year ago.. Plus a few weeks, give or take. February 13th. We all remember it. You know it as a tragedy. The Incident was our Birth."

Richard turned off the projector for a moment, Calvin stared at him. Birth? "Birth!? One hundred million people died in five hours, and you making it sound like a dandy old time! I lost my family to the Soviets duri-"

Richard cut him off with a smirk. "Your family, that hundred million people, was the smallest price we could have paid. For the entire human species. Do you not see? We have forever been locked in a war of deterrence. Nobody truly knew the true possibility of our extinction. We had to step in. Its useless to blame the Soviets. The first strike was by Australia. But it was on our orders."

"Are you insane!?"

"Let me explain this clearly to you. We operated to save you. The human race. We have a higher agenda. A dream, an ideal. The Woomera Incident proved to the world that nuclear weapons could not be used again. It proved to the world why we must work towards the survival of the human race. That is why we are here. We are the saviors of the human race.

"There were massive amounts of radiological weapons at Woomera. They were secret, mostly funded by the UK and US during the Cold War. They were kept around, mostly due to our influence. We prevented the declassification and dismantling that would inevitably occur. We blamed China. It was an easy target. Literally.

"We fired first at Hong Kong. There was no real defense. Hong Kong is no more, you know this. A city completely wiped off the face of the Earth, with no provocation. We continued on the easier targets. We fired at Israel. No defense was raised, it had only been a few minutes after the Hong Kong launch. Israel, as you know, is no more. We destroyed these places which would have no use in the new world we wished to create. They were too tied to the old one. You are old enough to remember the days of Middle Eastern conflict involving Israel.. Know now that most of that is gone, just by simply eradicating the source of the problem. Ethics are not a part of the equation.

"We fired at the larger targets now. We had no nuclear retaliation as of yet. The devastation had yet to truly begin. We took on the larger ones. The United States. Supposedly the missiles were headed for the east coast. We had always intended to strike the midwest, however. That was the heartland. That was where our attack would be felt most. We struck at both the United Kingdom and the Soviet Union. Most of our efforts were destroyed by superior technology, but in the French SSR we managed to destroy the city of Nantes. That was enough.

Within the next four hours, Australia was almost completely obliterated by a rain of missiles. You were one of the lucky chosen individuals whom were taken into the shelter at Uluru. We used the populations there to rebuild. And look, at what we have accomplished in a year.

"Woomera was just the beginning, Calvin. Welcome, to Delta Green. Welcome to the truth. Lies were more comforting, were they not?"
______________________________________________________________________________

Press Release from the Incorporated Populations of Delta Green
Message from the Capitol of Hyperborea
Addressed to All Nations in Interest of Peace and the Truth

Our young nation has grown over the last year to consolidate power in the new continent of Hyperborea, what was formerly known as Antarctica, and now Australia. We have proven our ability for political manuevering and significance during the conflicts of the Hyperborean Purge, yet we have conversely proven our dedication to the cause of human survival and international peace.

We wish to make this intent manifest through action. We today are making the decision to fully open relations with the international world. After the dire events of the Woomera Incident, which we all dearly remember, we have seen what political tension can cause. We are attempting to rebuild the forsaken parts of the world, out of the ashes of Woomera. We will begin a new world, a life anew.

Under orders of Our President, I personally welcome any ambassadors to visit us at the Capitol in Hyperborea, or to simply send a formal intent for relations and any deals. We are also willing to further answer any questions concerning our new foreign policy under Our President Bailey O'Sullivan. We look forward from hearing from you all, and I bid you a good day.

For Truth and State.

Fortune Vignon
Commissioner of Hospitality
Incorporated Populations of Delta Green
http://www.dmeb.net/speb/foryoureyes/ianmcd.jpg

Nuclear Retaliation Center, Mongolian SSR
Amidst the Woomera Incident

A small shack (of reinforced concrete and steel) sat strategically situated in Southern Mongolia. Beneath the inconspicuous architecture of the Cube (as military men called them) were tunnels and labyrinths filled with nuclear monitoring, launching, and telecommunications equipment lining wall to wall. Deep within the heart of the installation sat two rows of three launch terminals - each monitored by a well trained nuclear launch officer.

Albert sat in front of his terminal awaiting further instruction from the presiding officer and political commissar. It was several hours after the strike on Nantes, French SSR - unusual for a retaliatory attack - and they were expecting orders from Moscow any moment. The political commissar was becoming anxious.

A clicking noise came over an electronic device situated atop the terminals - Morse code. Even with this age of technological advancement and instantaneous communications, no one ever suspected Morse code.

Dots and dashes rang out over the small clicker; each spelling out the authorization codes that were typed into the launch terminals by the officers. Albert sat, his fingers rolling from home key to letter. It was a grace he had learned at technical school - all officers did. Albert, however, began to get worried once their normal launch codes were completed - more came. The triumvirate command behind him began typing as well. Something was wrong. Launch commands came over one at a time, not in clumps.

The door to the nuclear nucleus clicked, swinging open. A storm of black uniformed men ran in - each adorned with assault rifles. They filed in behind and before each terminal, their AK-109's drawn at ready - at the launch officers. A young, blacked haired, trench coat wearing man followed the storm-troopers inside.

Albert caught a glimpse of him flash his badge to the political commissar (who, for all literal purposes, was ‘at a higher rank’ than the military officer) - KGB. Unfortunately, he had his gaze averted by the butt of one of the troopers assault rifles.

“Comrade Nemcov,” spoke the security officer, “lovely day for a nuclear launch no?”

The commissar kept silent.

“All right,” the agent withdrew his hand from his glove, abruptly driving it into the gullet of the Party’s minion; causing him to double over in agony. They never did put up much of a fight. “Launch officers, I want you to listen to me and listen to me carefully. Continue entering launch commands and launch. Thank you.”

With that, Albert had the barrel of at least one of the assault rifles to his head. He hesitated, then began typing in the launch commands. Forty intercontinental ballistic missiles were targetting various complexes across Australia. The largest nuclear strike to have ever occured in Soviet history.

It wasn’t much different across the way: forty missiles, Australia. Each rodent ran in their wheel. Ran and ran and ran, never stopping to question. Albert had hesitated - he had questioned. Yet, upon threat of his life (and probably his family’s) he continued entering the commands, grasped the key, pressed the button, and turned in unison with the other officers.

The quantum processors within the terminals kicked in, entering the commands to the missiles automatically. Was natural not to have known who’s computer actually launched the forty missiles from your terminal. Hell, not even the missiles were known. In the complex sat hundreds of the massive mechanisms of war - all picked at random.

His head suddenly fell, impacting the keyboard. He heard the muffled echoes of gunshots before he fell into his sleep. Had he been shot? Probably was his thought. He drifted out, losing consciousness in record time; blood causing his lip to tingle as it dripped from his nostrils.

______________________________

Undisclosed location, unknown country
One month after the Woomera Incident

Albert was laying down - still strapped down - on an unforgiving metallic table; his body attached to several intravenous fluid containers. He couldn’t move his head to identify any of them. A man in a doctors coat stood beside the bed, filling a small syringe with an unknown fluid.

“Ah, you’re up, Comrade Petrov,” spoke the unidentified interrogation expert. Even when inflicting you with pain, they called you comrade.

“Wha...wh,” spoke Mr. Petrov.

“Shh... Quiet now. This won’t hurt a bit.” The ‘doctor’ stepped closer, sliding the syringe into an intravenous port already stabbed deep into his veins.

“Gah! That does hurt, damnit.”

“All right, Comrade Petrov, whatever you say. I know the Party would never order me to do something that would hurt a comrade.” Damn their fatalistic, Machiavellian irony.

Albert was waking up from the injection. He could see he now had clothes, still no shoes; but he had clothes. His frame was thin and lanky. His hair was gone - along with several of his teeth which were now replaced with dentures. The marks of electrified whips had vanished and the scars of numerous injections and lacerations were gone.

“How long will the beatings continue, comrade?” spoke the doctor; his former bit of compassion all but gone.

“Until morale improves,” parroted Petrov. He hadn’t wanted to say it, but it came out without thought.

“Good, you have learned well in the past weeks. That’s why you’re here. This will be our last meeting, Albert. You’re being released. Set free from these bonds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. But first, we have to have your last session,” his cold, calculating nature began to rise to the surface.

As Albert was able to eye about the room, he noticed the impalements of agony were gone. The room was still cold and damp, but he had become accustomed to the humidity and temperature. He would have given anything to sit up and smell his own sweat - if he mucus glands worked any longer.

“Comrade Petrov, what were you to do exactly one month ago?”

“Launch forty nuclear weapons to impact Australia.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not.”

“You hesitated. You stopped. You disobeyed orders. You may have allowed your hands to work the codes and key, but you betrayed the Party and thus, did not launch the defenders of our union.”

“But, you just told me that they all struck Australia!”

“No, I did not. You must have me mistaken. No nuclear weapons impacted Australia. They all came from Hyperborea. We defend people, not kill them.”

Albert stayed silent, his eyes closing as he tried to remember exactly what happened. He had launched the weapons and had received word that they hit. The doctor was lying. He had hesitated, but he had launched them. “You’re lying!”
The doctor smiled, “Good, Albert, good. You have seen through my small veil of deceit. Now, you will know the truth. For weeks you have learned that you infact did not launch. But, it is in the intrest of the Party that you know the truth now. Are you ready?”

“Yes, tell me!” Albert jerked at his restraints, attempting to remove himself from them - they only tightened.

“The truth is, that the truth is relative. The truth is what we decide is truth. Not whether it happened or didn’t. The truth is what we say.”

“But... But what about the millions of people?”

“What millions of people?”

The doctor had already consciously removed the truth from his mind and tossed it away - useless until necessary.

“Albert, what you have to learn, is that we control everything. We control the past and the future because we control the present. No matter what you do; no matter what information you find - it is all relative, subjective, and lies until we decide it is truth.”

“But you can’t do that! You can’t change the past! People will remember. People will know what happened because of their memories!”

“How do you know those memories even existed before today?”

“I...”

“You don’t. For all you know, I could have told you them. The Party could have told you them.”

“But they are mine! You can’t rid me of them!”

“Oh really? What’s your wife’s name?”

“I.... Have a wife?”

“You did.”

“I...Did?”

“Yes, you did. She’s now free too.”

“Is she happy?” questioned Albert, his eyes growing wide with hope.

“Oh, yes. She is free and happy. You’ll soon be free, Albert, don’t worry.”

Petrov smiled. He loved this doctor. The doctor never lied. The doctor always told him the truth. He loved the scruffy outline of his bear. The greying hairs atop his head. The long, white coat he wore everyday.... If those days ever happened. They hadn’t. They had. Both were true.

“Comrade Petrov, who is the Main Adversary?”

“Roach-Busters.”

“No!” shouted the doctor, the back of his hand slamming across Albert’s visage.

“But...”

“But what? You’re incorrect. You don’t know the truth. You’re a liar, weak, and insolent. Who is the Main Adversary?”

“Roach-Busters,” Albert spoke, his eyes clouding somewhat from the strangely strong slap.

The doctor grabbed a small, ice pick shaped tool from the metallic tray beside Albert’s head. The small tool was attached to a small box sitting on the floor via a tube connected to its base. The doctor lifted Albert’s shirt, revealing a small, pin-prick sized indention in his flesh. He pushed the spike until the base touch his flesh, then flipped a switch.

Electric currents flushed through the metallic spike, spiralling about Albert’s spinal cord, travelling through his body. The impact instantly caused Albert to writhe in epileptic agony, his back arched upward - only to be jerked back by the leather bonds.

The doctor flipped the switch off, allowing Albert to collapse back against the metal table - now perspiring heavily. “Who is the Main Adversary?” he questioned.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! Tell me! Tell me the truth! Please!” shouted Mr. Petrov.

“Good. Much better, Albert. Now think, who is the Main Adversary?”

“I don’t know! Te-“ his voice was cut short as a much stronger charge traveled up his spine, sending him into epileptic shock. His muscles locked tight, closing his airway to his lungs.

“You do know! Now tell me!” shouted the doctor as he flipped the switch off.

Albert hesitated, biting his lower lip until it bled, “...Delta Green.”

“Good, very good, Albert. Now, who is the Main Adversary?"

"Delta Green," he responded proudly before being impacted by yet a nother epileptic seizure induced by the electrode.

"Wrong! Who is the Main Advesary!"

"It doesn't matter! Y-" he shouted, being interrupted by the doctor.

"Correct. That is the truth. It doesn't matter. It is relative. There is only a Main Adversary because we need one. It doesn't matter who it is; so long as there is one. Now, you may ask me anything. Anything at all.”

Albert laid for a moment, still and quiet, then spoke, “Why?”
“Why what, comrade?”

“Why do you do this?”

“To help you. To set you free. So you know the truth. Next question.”

“When did the...the Party come into power?”

“The Communist Party has always been in power. We have always been here. Since the Revolution. We’ve always kept you safe. Next question.”

Albert new he wouldn’t get any better an answer by asking again, so he went on, “Why does the Union fight wars? Why do they keep fighting? Why?”

“For power.”

“You already have power.”

“I have nothing. We have power. But, we do not have total power. Power is not a means; it is an end. Power is not the ability to tell someone how to live and them obey; power is them obeying without having to be told.”

“But why?”

“The purpose of power is power.”

“That’s not logical.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Bu-“ the doctor jerked the spike from his side, covering the small wound with a gauze bandage. Albert noticed the straps were gone, but didn’t see the doctor remove them. Had they ever been there?

“Enough, Albert, it’s time to set you free. Stand up.”

Albert turned, his body racked with pain. The doctor helped him, slowly standing him up and walking him to the now open door. “Go, Albert. Be free.”

Albert looked down the long, stone corridor. Lights hung from the ceiling to light. He looked to the doctor, then began to walk. His feet cold against the moist, concrete floor. Was it over? Would an officer hand him shoes at the end of the corridor. He saw another door. Would that be it? Would he simply go home now that he knew the truth?

Albert jerked, feeling the searing pain through the rear of his skull. He doubled forward, his eyes whiting over. He couldn’t see as his face impacted the floor; his face crushed against the conrete. Blood slowly dropped from the rear of his skull. He could still feel. He heard the plop of something near his ear. It came from his head. What was it? He would never know. He lost his feeling, lost his memories, and now lost the truth.

______________________________

http://img250.imageshack.us/img250/150/sovietcoatofarms3kb.jpg
Statement from the Premier
Federative Central Government
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

The Political Bureau wishes to set up a joint committee or council to discuss the events of the Woomera Incident. It is our belief that a joint, Soviet-Green relationship would benefit both of our nations. If this could occur, we could perhaps create an organization to insure that such travesties as this never occur.

The Soviet Union does not wish to take lives. We simply are forced to protect ourselves at certain times in history. We eagerly await a reply to our construction of a review committee or organization to protect the lives of individuals around the world.

Sincerely,
Vladimir Ivanovich Troskin, Ph.D., S.J.D., D.S.Sc.
Premier of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

(OOC: Don’t worry; I have permission for the nuclear strike.)

Received: from al.free.dg (NJE origin dx1@anonx.dg) by anonx.ywy.dg (LMAIL
V1.2a/1.8a with BSTMP id--; 20 january 2006 16:03:32 -0500
Date: 20 January 2006 16:03:46 -0500
Reply to: ALPHONSE <executive@babbage.dg>
Sender: ALPHONSE <executive@babbage.dg>
From: ALPHONSE <executive@babbage.dg>
Subject: Trillenium
To: Vladimir Troskin <vtroskin@cpsu.su.gov>
x-uidl:----------------
ENCRYPTION HYPERBOREAN
DECRYPTED - Classified 8X-Seraphim

Your letter is well received, Vladimir.

The incident involving Woomera was one of tragedy for every human being on
this earth. The government of Delta Green finds itself in a position where it
can help spearhead the political effort to create a movement of stability and
peace across the globe. There needs to be a new world order. A society
in which we can live without fear of being obliterated into a rain of hellish
missiles.

We have come up with the basic proposal of a new alternative to the defunct
United Nations. By founding a new sort of organization, we can begin a new
era. It is quite obvious, is it not?, that we are not in the modernist age we
once knew. The Information Revolution has come and passed. What is for us
in the future? This is the age of Human. The age of artificial Gods.

Humankind must be preserved at all costs. We currently have a proposal for
what we have called the "Trillenium Committee," an organization of like-minded
states and individuals who would organize this movement to protect the world
from another Woomera-like catastrophe, until the year 3000.

We request strongly passage into the Soviet Union in order to bring this
proposal to fruition, which will require extensive negotiation and analysis from
our strongest minds. This joint Soviet-Hyperborean project will bring these
idealism into reality.

The troubleshooting committee we have created, codenamed "WISEMEN", will
consist of six members. Heading the committee is Our President Bailey
O'Sullivan "AQUARIUS", being advised by Bernard J. Oppenheimer "REDLIGHT",
Vannevar L. Dryden "LOOKING GLASS", William Akeley "DELPHI", Henri Ducard
"SIGMA", and Jean Paul LeMarx "PLATO".

We are ready.

:: transmitted 1323 est 1/12/05::PGP encoding enabled::
<eof>

Received: from mos.avant.su (proxy port)
Date: 20 January 2006 20:24:06
Sender: Troskin (Private) <glyptic@XXXXX.XX>
Reply to: Troskin <glyptic@avanpost.ha.ms.al.su>
From: Troskin (Private) <glyptic@XXXXX.XX>
Subject: RE: Trillenium
To: ALPHONSE <executive@babbage.dg>
su-udlo: ----------
ENCRYPTION QUANTUM
DECRYPTION Q56-PORTER HOUSE

I understand your intentions and wish to be accepted into
this "Trillenium Committee". Hyperborean delegates will be
well received in the Soviet Union. As for the "WISEMEN", I
may be contacted through the above "reply to" tab.
Code-named as "GLYPTIC".

It is mine - and the Politburo's - intention to insure that this
incident does not occur again. We must insure the safety of
mankind by any means necessary. As discussed with AQUARIUS,
the formation of the "Trillenium Committee" is essential to the
Main Objective.

I hope I will be insured at the formation of the "WISEMEN" will
insure the come about the the "TRICOM".

:: TRANSMISSION COMPLETE - est. 0:06:23 ::

"I remember the day, where every inch I had, would be devoted to destroying them. I remember what they did, what they were. What I was taught, conditioned to think. Sure, I didn't know the truth. When I was younger, anyway. And even when I did learn the truth, it was already too late."

"Do you normally go on like this?"

The younger man was not entirely in the mood to hear this reminiscing rambling he was hearing. And he wasn't necessarily afraid to express that. Lifting up the conspicuous top hat by the rim to reveal his eyes, a neutral blue, looking to the older man. One eye was surrounded with elongated lashes, giving an unbalanced look to an unbalanced man. The older man grinned from under his tinted glasses, bringing a lit cigarette to his lips. On a plane, this wasn't allowed. No matter.

"Samuel, you've got to excuse my, age."

"Its of my personal opinion we dispose of the useless elderly as quickly as possible. After all, they are simply a drain on the rest of society."

"Looks like you've learned well. I'd suggest you stop that."

"Of course, father."
______________________________________________________________________________

Received: from al.free.dg (NJE origin dx1@anonx.dg) by anonx.ywy.dg (LMAIL
V1.2a/1.8a with BSTMP id--; 21 january 2006 11:40:10 -0500
Date: 21 January 2006 11:40:12 -0500
Reply to: LOOKING GLASS <lookinglass@babbage.dg>
Sender: LOOKING GLASS <lookingglass@babbage.dg>
From: LOOKING GLASS <lookingglass@babbage.dg>
Subject: Arrival
To: GLYPTIC <glyptic@avanpost.ha.ms.al.su>
x-uidl:----------------
ENCRYPTION HYPERBOREAN
DECRYPTED - Classified 8X-Seraphim

AQUARIUS
arrives at Moscow 11:34:00 -0500
LOOKING GLASS
arrives at London 11:36:00 -0500
REDLIGHT
arrives at Leningrad 11:38:00 -0500
SIGMA
arrives at Belgrade 11:40:00 -0500
DELPHI
arrives at Berlin 11:42:00 -0500
PLATO
arrives at Paris 11:44:00 -0500

We will have all arrived by 11:46:00. We simply wait until you disclose where
we shall meet, and finally the TRICOM will be formed.

:: transmitted 1325 est 1/21/06::PGP encoding enabled::
<eof>

Received: from mos.avant.su (proxy port)
Date: 21 January 2006 14:24:06
Sender: Troskin (Private) <glyptic@XXXXX.XX>
Reply to: Troskin <glyptic@avanpost.ha.ms.al.su>
From: Troskin (Private) <glyptic@XXXXX.XX>
Subject: RE: Arrival
To: LOOKING GLASS <lookingglass@babbage.dg>
su-udlo: ----------
ENCRYPTION QUANTUM
DECRYPTION Q56-PORTER HOUSE

Pyongyang

:: TRANSMISSION COMPLETE :: .:..:::.:.:-

_____________________________

Ryungyong Hotel, Pyongyang, Korean SSR
The First WISEMEN Conference

In the upper floors of the newly re-built Ryugyong Hotel (http://www2m.biglobe.ne.jp/~taro/py/yugyong.jpg) sat some of the most powerful men on the face of the earth. In a clockwise motion sat Vladimir Troskin (GLYPTIC; Premier of the USSR), Alecsander Bovsky (MOLOTOV; Commissar of the Interior), Soviet Marshal Yevegny Volgin (RHINE; Commissar of Military Affairs), Bailey O’Sullivan (AQUARIUS; President of Delta Green), Bernard Oppenheimer (REDLIGHT; Commissioner of Stability, Chairman of the Organization of Radiological Powers), Henri Ducard (SIGMA; Chairman of Internal Surveillance), William Akeley (DELPHI; Chairman of Extraterrestrial Relations), Vannevar Dryden (LOOKING GLASS; Commissioner of Public Information), Jean LeMarx (PLATO; Commissioner of the Truth), and Robert Pacitania (ARGENTINE; General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union).

The meeting of the WISEMEN was to be an annual affair from today onward. It would exist to coordinate relations between Hyperborea and the Soviet Union. To be a cooperative group of individuals to set out guidelines and goals for each super-power. It would be an international group of intellectual, technocratic, bureaucrats - each guised in their own agendas and plans.

The meeting began much as any other would - an opening speech from the host. GLYPTIC shuffled several papers in front of him as he began to speak:

”As many of you know from our previous - unorganized - rendevous, that our goals are to be met by any means necessary. “Peace at any cost,” as the Communications Commissar would say. However, I believe we need to first set into motion our plans by a certain series of less-than-appreciated Soviet-Hyperborean incidents. Perhaps an ‘espionage attempt’ by Delta Green to enter the Kremlin - of course ending in the poor souls execution. Perhaps a downed Soviet spy plane over Hyperborea. You all know of the events of Gary Powers and his famed U2 spy plane? Something to that relation.

“As I’m sure you know, the Soviet Union and Delta Green appear to have no relations to the poor fools residing in the international community - they must continue to assume this. If any of them find out about the planning of the Woomera Incident, the ‘false war’, or anything else - we’d all come crumbling down in a blaze of nuclear attacks.

“We must also insure secure control over Australia - the Red Army will be willing to help, correct, Volgin?”

“Of course. We’re well commissioned, heavily hardened, and trained for anything. Throw in a few thousand storm-troopers and nothing will stand in their way,” guttered the Marshal after brushingout the remnants of his cigar.

“Good,” Troskin continued, “for if out two powers do not have total cooperation - we are doomed to fail. With help from MOLOTOV and various Soviet security agencies, all dissent can be stamped out. From RHINE I also expect total cooperation. Mr. ARGENTINE is setting up relations with interested political parties around the world. With our dominance and infiltration of the Politburo, our plans should succeed easily enough, no?”

GLYPTIC smirked, leaning back in his chair, lighting on of the cigars situated near each delegate. He took a small drag from the noxious tobacco, and released the smog... Yes, they would release the smog on the whole of the earth...

The meeting had begun with this host, each face was slightly obscured, for the lights were dimmed with a certain conspiratorial atmosphere. As GLYPTIC spoke, his words were heavily weighted and taken in by each of the guests, Soviet and Hyperborea. There was a tension in the room, and also a lingering uncertainty. Towards the end of his rhetoric, there was a few words exchanged.

DELPHI, Dr. William Akeley, an older man of a very regal manner, leaned towards the one next to him, the LOOKING GLASS. Peering from under rose-tinted spectacles, the smoking Dryden turned to face the man who had began to say his words. The exchange was casual, but it was of critical importance.

"Do they know of the Benefactors? Whatever O'Sullivan is meaning to accomplish.. Our goals must be similar.."

"My friend, even conspiracies have conspiracies. Sit back, draw not attention to yourself, we'll discuss this another time."

They parted and the rhetorical speech given drew to a close. Smoke had already begun to rise up in the room, and through this eyes looked at one another warily, and finally back to the host. Expectations were high, and now that the speech had been made, business would flow in. Standing up was the previously mentioned AQUARIUS. Wearing a well-tailored black sport's coat over his white Oxford, wide-rimmed glasses upon his face, he was rather innocuous in appearance. But leaning over the table, he placed his palms down, speaking with a calm resolution.

"Friends, as that is what we are all here, I called for this committee, this congregation, gathering.. Conspiracy. I called it for reasons we all know.

"One thing we must place on the table, as well as our minds, is what issues we are fighting for. Why call for such a committee? We declare our mission is to preserve humanity until the year three thousand. And why? Gentlemen... We are progressing, our species grows and develops. We are told this is the Age of Humankind. Our friends from the Soviet Union here would know this meaning. Humanism.

"We are a humanist, materialist organization. We transcend all needs for economic, political, social ideology. We are united because we each are devoted to the survival and welfare of Humankind. How can I make any of this more simply? Gentlemen, we are fighting a fight of evolution.

"Now, we have established what we seek, and in our minds we know our devotion. Business takes hold of our minds. I have done my part, I would like to turn the table's attention to my associate, LOOKING GLASS. He will answer directly the issues brought up by our Soviet friends."

Vannevar Dryden gave a light chuckle, watching as O'Sullivan sat down and brought all eyes to the man. Not bothering to push himself up, he spoke from his reclined position, at a leisure that contrasted the resolution AQUARIUS had shown.

"Now that rhetoric has found its end, let us get to the real business.

"Now, as GLYPTIC has raised, the offer has been made for a joint effort to secure Australia for Hyperborean interests. While we appreciate the motion, because the logistics of the situation is too much of an effort for it to be profitable, we must decline this motion as it stands. Let me explain.

"During the Woomera Incident we have all come to know very personally, the whole of Australia's major population centers were completely decimated. In the weeks that followed, Delta Green gained absolute political and military control of Australia, effectively annexing it into our extremely young nation-state.

"There were inevitable survivors, but almost all were impure because of the radiation from the holocaust caused by the nuclear retaliation. Over the past year, some of these populations have established themselves in remote parts of the Outback, and most others have been destroyed by the inhospitable landscape.

"We had selected a substantial part of the Australian population previous to the Woomera Incident and had harried them to Uluru, where we had prepared the first habitation center. This provided an effective bunker, and using this population, as well as massive immigration due to the Holiday Revolution and later the Spectre War, thus with the indirect help of our Soviet friends, we were able to repopulate Australia.

"We do not need Soviet aid to secure Australia. However, as mentioned, we have not completely secured all the remote places in Australia, and we do not have the resources to do it ourselves. We do not know what lies in the nuclear wasteland in the unexplored portions of the Outback. If this interests our Soviet friends, we can prepare a joint operation."

Stopping for a moment, he noticed that another one of the WISEMEN wished to speak. REDLIGHT stood up, giving a nod to Dryden, and began to speak. "While I appreciate LOOKING GLASS's informational speech, we must progress now to the business this meeting was established to addressed. We must speak about the TRICOM we intend to begin."

Amidst O'Sullivan's rhetoric, Pacitania leaned over to Troskin, his lips chapped as he spoke in a whispered tone, “Humanism? Vladimir, do you honestly expect me to sit back while we let their agenda come about?”

“Robert, this is necessary rhetoric. We must appear to the world - and even to our counterparts - as a good, noble cause. Through TRICOM we’ll be able to secure our power over the global, geo-political climate. With a joint operation such as the WISEMEN and TRICOM, our agenda will come about. Remember, Robert, ‘power is an end, not a means.’”

Pacitania leaned back in his chair as the Marshal began to speak interject after Dryden spoke, “Yes, the Soviet Union - well, at least the military - would love a chance to root out some theological Aborigines.” He elbowed Troskin with a chuckle; Troskin didn’t reply.

“Yes, TRICOM,” spoke GLYPTIC, “Business, gentlemen, not rhetoric. What we’re doing should not be romanticized. The Soviet Union just participated in one of the largest mass murders in the world. We annihilated an entire continent and turned it into a radiological wasteland. Australia won’t be the last time this occurs.”

“I’m sure, as most of you know, that the Soviet Union has one goal that within it lie objectives; but that goal is supreme: the founding of a global state. A new world order that will rise from the ashes of the previous regimes. I believe that through the protection of mankind this will be achieved. A state that includes ever continent. A state without ideologies, economic theories, and the like. A state full of pure, conscious humans.”

The Soviet delegates raised their glasses to a small toast as Troskin continued, “However, in order for this to occur, TRICOM must be established. To business, I believe we - first off - need to create a general headquarters for the organization. A place where other nations feel safe to come and meet. Once this is established, we’ll move on to more pressing business.”

Troskin sipped his small glass of water, burning out the remnants of his cigar. The conspiracy had begun. They would found a global state through any means necessary. It truly would be ’peace at any cost.’

{OOC: I hope there's more of that coming up.}

On the issue of a headquarters for the theorized TRICOM, SIGMA seemed to be the one most interested in the issue. After conferring with a few of the others, he came to a conclusion and nodded. His delicately chosen French accent was a noticeable difference from the heavy Russian, American, and Irish accents already used.

"Delta Green, while we consider ourselves at large the progenitor of this alliance... We find ourselves unable to properly give a location for such an organization without causing a disruption in the internal security that I am in charge of." Gripping around the silver orb at the head of his black cane, he brought it to his chin for a moment, his eyes scanning over the Soviet representatives. There was very little trust in the room, and SIGMA least of all, yet that was what he did best.

"We instead suggest that we can find some relatively neutral ground where we can place the headquarters of this alliance. Unfortunately, since the domination of Europe, the number of candidate neutral nations has worn dangerously thin. Thus, I would suggest we chose a region with very little security priority and yet is very stable politically. I suggest we go to Nantes. Hyperborean deirradiation efforts can make it safe if we build the structure correctly, and building a neutral ground for TRICOM members there would provide a symbolic effort."

REDLIGHT smiled a bit at that and added, "I second that suggestion by our friend. The NEST organizations under my commission would be more than happy to help in the construction. Though I'm sure the Soviets would very much like to give us their own ideas on construction."
______________________________________________________________________________

Moscow Diplomatic Complex
Un-systemized District of Moscow, Delta Green sovereignty
January 22nd, 2006
Friday, 1952 hours

The man sat at the desk, quiet. He had long remembered Serbia, he remembered the Great Balkan Conflicts, he remembered if anything else. Rubbing his temples with his index fingers, he continued to remember. He was here to simply discuss "official" relations between the two nations. While the conspirators plotted in the dark, diplomats met with cordiality.

Not far from him to the left was the woman, standing straight and without any words. She was simply here to listen, to document, and to watch. That was all she was good for. Slowly, she moved from her standing position and stood next to the wall, knowing that the Soviet envoys would be there soon. She looked down to Viktor, whom also looked up and gave a smile. He once swore that he would kill any Russian he met. But now, that was just a dream.

GLYPTIC smirked lightly, responding to the mentioning of Nantes, “I believe that Nantes will be a wonderful headquarters for TRICOM. It’s cultural, political, and geographically - well, will be - stable. We believe that would be a great place for such a fine and noble alliance.”

Marshal Volgin raised his glass in salute to the comment giving a hearty, “Here! Here!”

“As for the construction,” Troskin continued, “the Soviet Union would be willing to supply most - if not all - construction materials necessary. We wouldn’t even mind getting together some of the brightest architects across the Union to help. A joint, Soviet-Green construction plan would greatly strengthen our outward appearance until the incident.”

____________________________________
The Soviet envoy stepped into the room. He tilted his glasses down as he entered, eyeing the two Hyperborean individuals. He extended a hand to the woman first, smiling calmly, “Bushinkin, Vlad Bushinkin.” He immediately shook the other’s hand, responding the same before sitting.

“It is my understanding,” Bushinkin began, “that the new Soviet-Hyperborean relations need to be strong and intelligent. None of this pesky conflicts over miss-spoken words. The Soviet Union needs a close ally in the Southern Hemisphere. It is our belief that Delta Green is that ally.”

If only the envoy knew exactly what was occurring half-way around the world. If he only knew exactly what the Soviet Union needed. All he knew was the keep his mouth shut, his thoughts to himself, and take his daily dose of Dystorium (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Dystorium).

"A nuclear wasteland is the most stable location you can ever find, GLYPTIC. You will realize that this is not only symbolically profitable, but it is also convenient. It would be nigh impossible for ground infiltration," remarked REDLIGHT.

"As for construction, we can leave the architectural specifics to the specialists of the Soviet Union. However, we will supply a portion of the resources and labor, as well as our deirradiation technology which is key to this effort. I will pass the room's attention now to AQUARIUS, we have other issues to face."

"Thank you, REDLIGHT. Now, gentlemen, we need to begin not only with the physical backbone of this organization, but a charter in which we can create a legal basis for the remaining whole. Once we have an outline for a basic charter, we are nearly complete with this preliminary negotiation. We can unveil our plans to the world, and watch them flock under our shepherding."
______________________________________________________________________________

"Zdrasti, comrade." There was a light tone of sarcasm in Teofilovich's voice as he looked at the Russian envoy. Business was not Viktor's favorite subject, but now, he was pressed into it. Taking a sip of water, he watched the motions. The woman who had accompanied Viktor completely ignored Bushinkin's presence, staring straight forward. Viktor gave a light shake, and invited Vladimir to sit.

"What you say may be true. We need to make such negotiation as quick as possible. Have you reviewed over the public affairs information the Commission of the Peace has released? It specifically states the treaty conditions we can offer. My government is wishing currently to suggest a Treaty of Alliance."

The marshal sat in his chair, his eyes scanning the room hazily. He had slacked up on his drinking and smoking. It appeared that it was a necessary thing for him to do to allow him to calm himself. He listened to redlight finish speaking, then spoke, “Before we continue, I would like to note, that the Soviet military will supervise the construction for security purposes. I’m sure Hyperborean military would also attend.”

Upon the completion of MOLOTOV’S interjection and AQUARIUS’ speech, AGENTINE finally spoke, “As for a TRICOM charter and bi-laws, it must be worded in such a way to appear totally - and fiercely - humanitarian. We must convince the world that our purposes are totally for the protection and advancement of the human species. Also, we should include something along the lines of military alliances on certain TRICOM issues.”

“Yes,” spoke GLYPTIC, “we must appear totally selfless.”

______________________________

Bushinkin smirked, shaking the man’s hand lightly before sitting. “Yes, I have looked over the file. I have also been given permission to authorize a Treaty of Alliance with your nation according to the stated terms. Do you feel satisfied? Or is their other business beyond the signing of the document?”

The atmosphere had always been tense, of course it was, it was conspiratorial in many manners. But there was something about what the Soviets had been discussing, the way they had carried themselves, that brought some unease to a few of the members of the Hyperborean WISEMEN. Yet the feeling at times seemed mutual. AQUARIUS watched GLYPTIC across from him, both counterparts. He let his finger trace around the cup of water. The Hyperborean section knew not to trust so easily, which at times meant rejecting hospitality. He gave a light smile at his paranoia, yet it was well founded.

REDLIGHT watched as MOLOTOV interjected during the suggestion for the architectural basis for a center of the TRICOM. He raised his brow and give a light nod. "We will have an agent of the Freemen attend, but further attachments are not necessary."

SIGMA gave a light smile, turning to DELPHI beside him as GLYPTIC made his own advice known. They gave a look to one another. Appear humanitarian. There was a look of understanding, things that must be discussed outside of this room. LOOKING GLASS, being the opinionated man he is, had a word to say.

"Creating a legal basis must and will be formed upon humanitarian intentions and justification. Perhaps simplicity is best. I suggest that we have a public meeting on which a charter is formed. During the announcement for such a meeting to be made, we can establish a, mission statement on which all other things will be built upon.

"But, military alliance, I think is outside our scope. Neutrality in personal conflicts is most humanitarian, as is non-aggression. Military alliance does not present the model we wish to build. NATO failed. You should be fully aware of this, given your, history."
______________________________________________________________________________

Teofilovich pulled over the document and peered over it silently, taking his finger up to tap his forehead as he read over it. Other business? He gave a light sigh, sliding over the document and looking up to the Russian diplomat.

"I was expecting to meet with the Soviet ambassador for this sort of business, but it is irrelevant. The papers here are adequate, and the Incorporated Populations are willing to enter this treaty of alliance. What terms does the Soviet Union want, and what conditions will it end?"

The atmosphere - at least on the Soviet side - seemed to be relaxing. The Soviet members of the WISEMEN had lost all facades of nobleness in their goals. They appeared humanitarian; they appeared democratic - nothing could be farther from the truth (at least in most cases). They did what was necessary when it was necessary to be done.

Pacitania caught the two gentlemen trading glances, causing him to smirk mildly. Conspiratorial - yes; humanitarian - it depends. One would hardly considered the forced eradication of massive amounts of Australian populace humanitarian.

“Yes,” GLYPTIC responded, “a congress of potential nations perhaps? We can develope the charter and start from there. And now that I rethink the military proposal, you are correct. It would not be the most humanitarian thing to do. NATO did fail.” Troskin chuckled mildly.

_______________________________
“Ah well,” spoke the Soviet envoy, “let me look and see what exactly my administration’s demands are.”

Bushinkin opened his own folder and read for a moment before speaking, “That’s weird. The file says that ‘in accordance with previous relations, terms for a joint Hyperborean-Soviet Treaty of Alliance have already been transferred to those it may concern.’ That’s.... really quite odd..”