Northford
26-08-2008, 20:38
Health, like inflation, will vary from time to time, but generally follow a trend. Unfortunately, unlike inflation, for most, the trend is most certainly downward, levelled out by good diet, exercise, and access to good medical facilities.
As Alan Brookes stepped off a plane in Jesseltons' international airport, he mused quietly to himself how he had a habit of defying the odds. Only 18 months ago he was bound to an artificial respirator, unable to leave a wheelchair. Now, on the other hand, he was in excellent health and able to walk almost unaided. For all the benifits this had, it was at most a clever rouse.
Having recently had a full heart-lung transplant at the Northfordian Institute for Health in Ripon, he was able to breath freely once again, unaided. However, at his old age, the strong anti-rejection drugs he was taking had terminal affect upon his immune system. By current estimates, he was 6 months away from the date when his white-blood cell count would drop below the level where Northfordian Doctors proscribe full isolation, to safeguard against infection.
6 Months.
He had 6 months to prevent Northford falling apart. It was a country fractured beyond, according to most accounts, repair. Despite being mostly free of Class, Racial and Sexual boundaries, Northford was a country being pulled at from every corner. In the North-East of the country, along the coast, Redbridge Island, and the Carpanthium Boarder, there was the liberal, pro-Cravan, anti Questarian elité who contributed the bulk of the Northfordian GDP and population. For years they "Anti-QC" sentiment had been rising, viewing the segregationalist practises of Questers as barbarian, and finding themselves much more aligned politically, and economically, with the democracies of Cravan, or, amongst the imperialist powers, Praetonia.
In the central heartlands, the sparsly populated 'Wheatbelt', resource rich, economically poor, held a long grudge against the central government of Northford. Origionally, the "industrial heartland", as well as the geographically heartland, they had been robbed of their industrial capacity during the Haven War, where in the interests of national security, the government outsourced four fifths of the Northfordian manufacturing base to Franberry, and instead replaced the Northfordian washing machine factories with highly automated armaments factories. Effective, however, the move caused great swathes of unemployment, causing an estimated 60% of the regional population to emigrate to the colonies.
While being robbed of ones industry and employment is a cause for resentment, in the south, things were much worse. The continueing war with Doomingsland, and the move to bring in Questarian "reservists" had angered the militant south. They were proud of their small, highly professional force, and found the idea that the Northfordian government was forced into recruiting 'part timers' to make up for an imbalance in numbers, insulting. For them, their economy was founded upon three principles: maintaining the boarder, international transshipment, and the military. The Northfordian Airforce and Army *was* South Northford. Indeed, during the present hostilities, defence of the Northern Coast was in-fact outsourced to the Navy, and, surprisingly, "international forces" from Cravan and Aequatio, based in Carpanthium.
To them, the government was "selling out", to Questarians and Foreigners alike. Brookes government had brought them to the edge of war, only to realise they lacked the military to defend themselves against the Doomani behemoth. The southern boarder was littered with Questarian Military outposts, and while their presence was welcome, it was most certainly unneeeded. Conflict with the Doomani had been expected, and prepared for: Tank traps, minefields, and airbases all littered the boarder, and what they needed, if at all, was an influx of well trained armoured bridgades, not "a bunch of racist part timers more used to killing black people in a jungle."
The colonies were another issue. The Southford site, across the Strob' represented a cross between a multi-national army base and a science fair. Clandonians were ten a penny, as were geologists, and thousands of biologists attempting to map the local fauna. The small population wasn't assimilating colonisers, and the land was slowly being split between rich "escapee's" from Questers, Northford and anywhere else, and a consortium of NGO's, forming nature reserves, performing science experiments, and attempting to spy on the Allaneans.
Continentia and Arterus, on the other hand, were as close to the Questarian "ideal" as one could imagine. White, mostly, they profited from their well developed, high tech, unlabourous, exports to Haven-proper, and resented anything damaging their "Good life". Continentian Northfordians, had, for the most part, surrendered their passports for "Commonwealth, Overseas" passports issued by the Questarian authorities, while in Arterus, the numerous islands were a mish-mash of pro-Questarian, pro-Cravanian territories, with the capital in the hands of the "De Jersey Noël"'s, a wealthy Questarian-Northfordian dual national who made his wealth in Gold and Diamond Mining. Northfordian Arterus was not a big colony, but its raw resources contributed much to the Northfordian coffers, and filled gaps that the "High Tech" manufacturing left during industrial down-turns.
Stepping off the plane Brookes carried a small leather folder, and a small notebook in his hand. A (Continentian) sterling silver fountain pen made its home inside his Jacket pocket. He looked over his sunglasses, and, with his overcoat (unneeded in the heat and humidity of Questers) over his arm, caught sight of the man awaiting him.
He extended his arm for a handshake.
"Is the car waiting?"
As Alan Brookes stepped off a plane in Jesseltons' international airport, he mused quietly to himself how he had a habit of defying the odds. Only 18 months ago he was bound to an artificial respirator, unable to leave a wheelchair. Now, on the other hand, he was in excellent health and able to walk almost unaided. For all the benifits this had, it was at most a clever rouse.
Having recently had a full heart-lung transplant at the Northfordian Institute for Health in Ripon, he was able to breath freely once again, unaided. However, at his old age, the strong anti-rejection drugs he was taking had terminal affect upon his immune system. By current estimates, he was 6 months away from the date when his white-blood cell count would drop below the level where Northfordian Doctors proscribe full isolation, to safeguard against infection.
6 Months.
He had 6 months to prevent Northford falling apart. It was a country fractured beyond, according to most accounts, repair. Despite being mostly free of Class, Racial and Sexual boundaries, Northford was a country being pulled at from every corner. In the North-East of the country, along the coast, Redbridge Island, and the Carpanthium Boarder, there was the liberal, pro-Cravan, anti Questarian elité who contributed the bulk of the Northfordian GDP and population. For years they "Anti-QC" sentiment had been rising, viewing the segregationalist practises of Questers as barbarian, and finding themselves much more aligned politically, and economically, with the democracies of Cravan, or, amongst the imperialist powers, Praetonia.
In the central heartlands, the sparsly populated 'Wheatbelt', resource rich, economically poor, held a long grudge against the central government of Northford. Origionally, the "industrial heartland", as well as the geographically heartland, they had been robbed of their industrial capacity during the Haven War, where in the interests of national security, the government outsourced four fifths of the Northfordian manufacturing base to Franberry, and instead replaced the Northfordian washing machine factories with highly automated armaments factories. Effective, however, the move caused great swathes of unemployment, causing an estimated 60% of the regional population to emigrate to the colonies.
While being robbed of ones industry and employment is a cause for resentment, in the south, things were much worse. The continueing war with Doomingsland, and the move to bring in Questarian "reservists" had angered the militant south. They were proud of their small, highly professional force, and found the idea that the Northfordian government was forced into recruiting 'part timers' to make up for an imbalance in numbers, insulting. For them, their economy was founded upon three principles: maintaining the boarder, international transshipment, and the military. The Northfordian Airforce and Army *was* South Northford. Indeed, during the present hostilities, defence of the Northern Coast was in-fact outsourced to the Navy, and, surprisingly, "international forces" from Cravan and Aequatio, based in Carpanthium.
To them, the government was "selling out", to Questarians and Foreigners alike. Brookes government had brought them to the edge of war, only to realise they lacked the military to defend themselves against the Doomani behemoth. The southern boarder was littered with Questarian Military outposts, and while their presence was welcome, it was most certainly unneeeded. Conflict with the Doomani had been expected, and prepared for: Tank traps, minefields, and airbases all littered the boarder, and what they needed, if at all, was an influx of well trained armoured bridgades, not "a bunch of racist part timers more used to killing black people in a jungle."
The colonies were another issue. The Southford site, across the Strob' represented a cross between a multi-national army base and a science fair. Clandonians were ten a penny, as were geologists, and thousands of biologists attempting to map the local fauna. The small population wasn't assimilating colonisers, and the land was slowly being split between rich "escapee's" from Questers, Northford and anywhere else, and a consortium of NGO's, forming nature reserves, performing science experiments, and attempting to spy on the Allaneans.
Continentia and Arterus, on the other hand, were as close to the Questarian "ideal" as one could imagine. White, mostly, they profited from their well developed, high tech, unlabourous, exports to Haven-proper, and resented anything damaging their "Good life". Continentian Northfordians, had, for the most part, surrendered their passports for "Commonwealth, Overseas" passports issued by the Questarian authorities, while in Arterus, the numerous islands were a mish-mash of pro-Questarian, pro-Cravanian territories, with the capital in the hands of the "De Jersey Noël"'s, a wealthy Questarian-Northfordian dual national who made his wealth in Gold and Diamond Mining. Northfordian Arterus was not a big colony, but its raw resources contributed much to the Northfordian coffers, and filled gaps that the "High Tech" manufacturing left during industrial down-turns.
Stepping off the plane Brookes carried a small leather folder, and a small notebook in his hand. A (Continentian) sterling silver fountain pen made its home inside his Jacket pocket. He looked over his sunglasses, and, with his overcoat (unneeded in the heat and humidity of Questers) over his arm, caught sight of the man awaiting him.
He extended his arm for a handshake.
"Is the car waiting?"