Sun and Moon - The Presidential Election of 2040

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

“欢迎你” a voice greeted them as the door opened, cutting through the din of the bar. Victoria turned around and saw a young woman barely older than her standing at the threshold. Befitting the name of the establishment, she was sporting blue. Blue hair, blue dress, blue skin. Her eyeliner was blue, and so were her lips. On the top of her head were a pair of cat ears with blue felt fur, twisting and turning just like they would on an actual kitten.

“Hi,” Victoria said as she fixed her gaze on the charming yet disturbingly realistic cat ears. Surely they were just one of those gimmicky headphones that she sometimes saw her classmates wear on Halloween, she thought.

“That’s Kiki,” Mayu said. “She’s an employee here. If you want her to get you drinks she’ll be more than happy to serve you.”

“Welcome to Blue Star Bar,” Kiki said, in heavily-accented English. That was when she also noticed Kiki’s tail, which was a large long ball of fluffy blue fur swinging back and forth between her legs.

“I’ll show you the rest of the bar,” Mayu said as she cheerfully guided Victoria deeper into the cave. The entire place smelled of tobacco, alcohol and liberation. The lights above gave the cave a deep red glow, punctured by jelly-bean colored spotlights. Electro house music blared through speakers embedded in the walls, which displayed bouncing designs that blended ‘80s aesthetics with ‘30s tech and ‘40s postmodernism.

Like with Kiki, Victoria couldn’t look away from the other bar patrons. Some looked like regular people until she saw cat ears or fox tails. Some had anime hair and technicolor skin. One even had rainbow skin that continuously changed color like the surface of a soap bubble. And it looked like people from all over the world patronized this bar, from football fans in beer-stained jerseys arguing in Italian, to suave businessman in sharp tuxedos discussing the latest business deals back in Nigeria.

Victoria and Maya walked passed a group of Asian girls mingled amongst themselves sipping mimosas. Or rather, Asian-American girls, as Victoria instantly recognized; despite their Asian appearances, their accents and Western makeup made them as foreign as the foursome of white frat bros standing next to them having a passionate group PDA session together. The fact that they were wearing  “Rock 4 Senate” T-shirts with Dwayne Johnson’s face pasted onto a white background also helped to identify them.

“This is a popular migrant bar, right?” she asked Maya.

“You mean for expats?” Maya replied, using the outdated term for Western immigrants in China. “Of course! It’s a very popular place for foreigners, whether they’re American or European or African. Lots of Americans go here to enjoy the sexual liberation they miss at home.”

“Ha ha ha,” Victoria laughed humorlessly. She always cringed when she heard foreigners talk about America as the world capital of sexual promiscuity and moral degeneracy, as if it was Blue Moon blew up into a country and as if places like God-blessed Appalachia didn’t exist.

“And,” Maya added, “despite being underground, lots of Western artists come to this bar to perform, especially in secret. Last month, it was Steve Aoki playing his new EP here. Before that it was Post Malone trying to be relevant again.”

At once, the music got a lot quieter, and the DJ signaled the entire bar to give him their undivided attention. He was a white man, probably American, with enough energy to fill up ten younger men. He wore an eclectic wardrobe - a blue baseball cap with unintelligible text on top of sunglasses, gold chains, and a black trench coat that came straight out of The Matrix films.

“Hope that y’all be havin’ a great time tonight!” the DJ said as he took off his sunglasses and raised a V-sign in the air. To Victoria’s surprise, he spoke with the sort of Tennessean drawl she was so familiar with. Why some white guy from Tennessee would go all the way to Beijing to DJ at this sort of crazy place was beyond her.

“Before this piece ends I want to give y’all your favorite gift from me!” he said through a bunch of female-sounding screams. “That’s right! It’s that time again. It’s time to see me shirtless!”

Without the slightest hint of shame or hesitation, the DJ ripped off his leather trench coat with the stroke of his left hand, revealing iridescent feathers that covered his entire upper body from back to front. Almost every square centimeter of his skin below his neck, from arm to chest to belly button, was covered with a thick coat of down feathers that made his body a canvas of every color known to man. The red light of the bar blended with reflected blues and purples on feathers that ruffled with each twist and turn he made with his unusual body. This was a guy, Victoria saw, that was not afraid of his own body or who he was. He didn’t just have the colorful appearance of a peacock; he had its attitude as well.

“I love you DJ HillGoose!” a random man in the crowd screamed.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” HillGoose said, quoting a line from his fellow Tennessean, the late Elvis Presley.

“Can you come down and dance with me?” another man said. “My sister can DJ for you!”

“Ooh, I want to touch your feathers!” a third said.

“Why don’t you do your face?”

“Cheapest price for goose surgery?”

“Now now,” DJ HillGoose said, “I know that y’all want a piece of me, since I’m a goose and y’all are not, but don’t forget we got an entire night of music we gotta play! Now, I’m going to play for y’all an old classic from the early aughts. Pre-Crisis 21st century style, made from Russia with love! Everyone, boy humans and girl humans and fellow animals, much love and no hate, 7th Element by Vitas!”

With a sleigh of hand, the song began to play. Giant technicolor polka dots started bouncing about on the walls of the bar.

Ya prishol dat' etu piesnyu...
Ya prishol dat' etu piesnyu...
Ya prishol dat' etu piesnyu...
Ya prishol dat' etu piesnyu...

It was a catchy song, Victoria had to admit, even if it was a strange one, and she started dancing to the electronic beat. With each beat of music came a beat of the heart, the synthesizer and the drums moving the melodies to and fro as Vitas used his incredible voice to sing his song for the sake of love.

Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...

She was enjoying it so much that she didn’t notice Maya disappearing from her view.

But notice she did, eventually, and with realization came panic. “Maya?” she said as she scanned the pulsating environment around her. “Maya?”

No response, nothing but the continued din of the bar and the smooth singing of Vitas.

“Maya?” she repeated. Still no response. “Maya?” She was so concentrated in trying to find Maya that she didn’t notice herself bumping into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” Victoria said as she reflexively backed away from her. The woman had dark hair and an olive complexion. She wore a dress of deep olive green covered in sequins and LEDs, while she held a martini in her right hand.

“Oh are you okay?” the woman said as she turned around. From her accent Victoria could tell she was a fellow American, though she couldn’t pin down what part of America she was from.

“Thanks,” Vicky said.

“You’re welcome,” the woman said as she paced in front of Victoria. “How are you doing tonight? I heard that you were finding your friend.”

“Yeah.” Victoria said as she did another 360, to no avail. “Ugh I can’t find her. Why y’all so good at hiding?”

“Who, me?” Maya said as she appeared from behind the woman in green, scaring Victoria out of her skin. “I must be good at hiding!”

“Why y’all trying to scare me?” Victoria said. She noticed Maya holding something very strange in her left hand. It was a cocktail, one made up of some red liquid that emitted white and gray smoke into the room. “And what in tarnation is that thing?”

“Liquid smoke cocktail,” Maya said. “Made with whiskey and smoky ice. Want one yourself?”

“First one’s gonna be on me,” the lady in green added.

“God, why are y’all so weird?” Victoria said. She remembered her parent’s advice to never accept random drink offers from strangers, and everything about this scene seemed suspicious. But Maya was her friend. Guess it was fair game now. She was getting bored and wanted something to do, and who would turn down free alcohol?

So with that in mind, after deliberating on whether to instead go for a more traditional mimosa like those Asian-American girls, Victoria ordered a liquid smoke cocktail too, paid for by the lady in green. Once the bartender finished her connection and served it to her, she couldn’t help but stare into the gray-white vapor clouds the blood-red liquid emitted, losing herself in the mist as the voice of Vitas continued to float into the air.

Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...
Chandra Brambra Chandra Chandra Bendram...

[Cold War Liberal]

IN 2040 HILLGOOSE IS A POPULAR DJ IN BEIJING AND HAS ACTUALLY GONE THROUGH WITH GOOSE SURGERY AHHHHHHHHHHHHH LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Excellent. Just excellent.

[P. Clodius Pulcher did nothing wrong]

This deserves an award.

[_]

This is GLORIOUS

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Suddenly, two voices, one male and one female, appeared out of nowhere. Victoria snapped out of her trance and turned around, placing the liquid smoke cocktail on the counter without a drop of it consumed. The lady in green was talking to a couple. One half was a black woman in a blue ocean dress, with her hair cut extremely short (she would be a “Grace Jones-looking chick,” people older than her would say). She was holding hands with a white guy in a tan suit, whose long flowing hair contained streaks of blonde dye like an upside-down tulip.

“I saw you talking to this girl over here,” the man said to the lady in green.

“Oh her?” she replied. “She was looking bored when we bumped into each other. I already got her friend some liquid smoke and I offered her if I could pay for her first drink of the night. You can’t not have fun at the Blue Moon.”

Victoria apprehensively looked at the trio talking about her. “Um,” she stammered, determined to bring herself into the conversation. “Hi?”

“Hi!” the man said as he turned to Victoria. “You must be Maya’s friend.”

“Yes I am,” Victoria said, not sure whether to trust this guy either.

“Hi,” the woman in ocean blue said as she took charge of the conversation. With a warm smile on her face, she extended out her hand in gratitude. “Nice to meet you, what’s your name?”

“Victoria,” she said as she shook the woman’s hand. She seems trustworthy at least, she thought.

“Victoria?” the woman said, smiling “Nice name! My name is Tiana Sorenson, and this is my boyfriend-”

“TexArkana!” DJ HillGoose called from his perch on the other side of the bar. “Can you do me a favor? I need your help!”

“Sure thing Goose!” TexArkana said as ran and dove into the main crush of people, as if he never wanted to be seen again.

Victoria and Tiana, after staring at TexArkana’s response to his call to action, looked back at each other. A few seconds passed before Tiana decided to break the silence.

“That’s...a name of his,” she said, trying to explain her boyfriend’s alias.

“What do you mean?”

“Like this was a forum name of his on this obscure forum he and HillGoose were both on many years ago. I dunno, for some reason they call each other by these names instead of their real names. I love the Blue Moon, but sometimes its culture can get really weird.”

“Really?” Victoria wondered in the back of her mind if that forum was the Atlas Forums, though she was not interested in vocalizing that question. It seemed rather unlikely to have someone like Timmy and people like these two guys be on the same obscure forum so many years ago, she thought.

“Yeah I guess,” Tiana said before telling Victoria’ the man’s real name. As she did so, Tiana sat down at the counter with Victoria and flicked her wrist. The bartender knew exactly what she meant and gave her another mimosa.

Victoria looked back at her own smoky liquor cocktail. To her disappointment, most of the smoke had already disappeared, leaving a rather boring red liquid in its wake. Even so, she started to take sips as the two struck up conversation.

“So where are you from?” Victoria asked.

“Jersey born and raised,” Tiana replied. “Went to Drexel University, first as premed, but that was way too hard, so I switched to International Business with a minor in Chinese.”

“You always wanted to move to China right?”

Tiana sighed as she took another sip of her mimosa. “It wasn’t really moving to China so much as escaping the US. Because if you look at this” - she pointed to the back of her hand, the deep brown reflecting off the illumination of the strobe lights and polka dots - “this is not something Americans appreciate. Trust me, if I had a penny for every piece of racist sh*t that was directed at me, I would be the world’s first trillionaire.”

Victoria interrupted. “Isn’t Barron Trump - wait no, he’s not there yet my bad.”

“No,” Tiana said, “but he’s close. Back on topic, the final straw was when his d-bag father decided to run for President by saying that Mexicans are rapists. Then he won! And I was like ‘LOL AmeriKKKa, if you ain’t gonna respect a strong black woman like me I’m gonna take my talents elsewhere!’”

Victoria nodded along as she took another sip of her cocktail. Looking around, she noticed that the woman in the green dress was also missing.

“And so like that,” Tiana continued, “I packed my bags and left America. Fun fact - most people who want to leave the US and Trump think of going to Canada. So much so that when he was first elected, the Canadian immigration site crashed. But me? Not Canada. Same white supremacy BS up north. For me, it was Asia or bust.”

Victoria was going to take another sip, but realized she had drank all of it. As Tiana spoke, she quietly motioned for the bartender for another smoky liquor.

“So,” Tina said, “I settled in Guangzhou, got a job there teaching English - not pretty, but hey, whatcha gonna do to put food on the table. That was when I met my boyfriend.”

Victoria took her refill from the bartender and took a sip, anxiously awaiting the next phase of Tiana’s story.

“He was cute, tall with dyed brown hair fashioned like the Korean idol style that was popular back then. We met each other in the most unlikely of places - walking past each other in the train station. Man, when I laid eyes on him it was as if time stopped for us. The crowd of people surrounding us and the trains zooming this way and that just melted away. It was just the two of us, me and him, standing there on that train platform.

“I guess it takes a special something inside of you if you’re a Chinese guy wanting to date a black girl. I mean sure there were some people who stared at us, but we didn’t give a rat’s ass about those guys. We went out, and it was amazing. We went everywhere together. Parks, beaches, the movies, bars like this one, you name it. I didn’t think it would end, especially not in the way it did. But it did, as everything must.

“It all happened when he decided to show me to his parents. I could tell it was something he kept pushing back, but it had to happen someday. Like my parents back in America knew at that point, and they were happy with it.” She paused for a moment. “Now that I think of it, they must’ve been super happy that I was alive. Frikin’ Crisis and all that bull.”

“Anyways, that day I had dinner with his family. His mother was an amazing woman, I should tell you - she was super open-minded, made the best food, couldn’t get a better woman than her. But the dad - oh boy. He literally stared at me the whole time like this.” Tiana got up from her seat and put her face two inches from Victoria’s, making sure Victoria could feel each and every damp breath that landed on her nose and lips. “You could darn well tell that he was not happy with me being there. Said how ugly our children would be under his breath.”

“We broke up soon after. After I left, his parents got into a fight and his dad gave his mom a black eye. It was a sad time for both of us. Some people, man. People can be so cruel, no matter where they’re from.”

“That’s so sad,” Victoria said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tiana continued. “It’s life. After we broke up, I continued to work in Guangzhou before I found a better job at Ping An in Beijing. And in hindsight, it was frickin’ good timing. The week after I left, that’s when the protests happened.”

“The protests?” Victoria asked. “You mean the Guangzhou Uprising?”

“Uprising, riots, massacres, it’s all the same sh*t,” Tiana said. “We Black people wanted rights, but instead we got oppression. As usual.”

Victoria nodded slowly as she recalled the sequence of events that happened that fateful summer. Teenage boys tortured a biracial teenager to death. African and Asian minorities started protesting in Hong Kong and Guangzhou. Counterprotests flared up. Police came in with fire hoses and rubber bullets, and the ambassador from Burkina Faso ended up in the crossfire. Censorship, condemnations, and chaos ensued.

“Wrote about it once,” Victoria said as she started to feel the effects of the alcohol course through her veins.

“How was it?”

“Put five people in a room to talk about the Uprising and you’d get seven opinions. You have your President Castros.”

“President Castro?” Tiana said. “Mm hmm. He ain’t perfect, but that man was a real king. Wasn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right, unlike some people…”

“Then “you have these Chinese tourists I interviewed once about the August 7 Incident,” Victoria continued, using the official name for the Guangzhou Uprising. One of them said that it was proof that Africans needed to be deported. Another hated the PC that the government enforces because of this. Another was fine with immigrants wanting equal rights, but they wanted ‘special rights’ instead, and that’s bad.”

“Ha ha typical,” Tiana said, taking a swing at a mimosa. “God Chinese people can be racist. Like the ‘PC’ you said that guy complained about? That’s all fake. It’s all fake. ‘Social Progressives’ my ass. They don’t give a rat’s ass about the rights of immigrants or Black people. We’re just cheap labor to them. Their education and censorship efforts to promote ‘ethnic harmony’ is just so they can keep their trade deals with Africa without actually doing anything. And hoo boy don’t get me started on that one.”

“One what?” Victoria said, as Tiana’s words blended in with the music and love of the Blue Moon.

“But,” Tiana added, pointing a finger at her, “don’t get the wrong idea. Not all Chinese are bigots, just like not all Americans are. There are plenty of Chinese people willing to fight for justice and equality. Like my ex-boyfriend. There’s nothing more shocking than when your parents send you news - gotta get around that censorship! - and your frickin’ ex-boyfriend is on the cover out on the street! Now that is commitment. That’s allyship.”

“That’s nuts,” Victoria mumbled, slouched with a third cocktail in hand. “Was he okay?”

“You have to be grateful for guys like him,” Tiana said, ignoring Victoria’s question, “If I were to be completely honest, I miss him. I don’t know if I’ll meet another guy like him.”

Tiana took a sip from her cocktail when she realized what she said. “Uh, my boyfriend didn’t hear that, did he?”

“You mean TexArkana?,” Victoria asked, “I want to know, how did you meet him? That must’ve been an interesting story.”

“It is,” Tiana said, “it all started when-”

A cacophony of female voices interrupted Tiana with their incessant chanting.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

“Who in God’s name are those girls doing here?” Tiana said. “Like is this some sorority date party or what?”

“I don’t know,” Victoria said. “I don’t know if-”

“Is that Maya?”

Victoria perked up, got off her chair, and stumbled in the general direction.

“Is it.”

“Seems to be like it.”

“And are those...” Victoria stopped when she saw the scene. Her words came slowly and quietly, but her shock was just as clear.

“Oh. My. Goodness.”

It was the “Dwayne 4 Senate” girls again, standing around Maya as she held up a beer stein to her face, clumsily drinking from it and spilling beer all over her expensive dress as the girls chanted her on.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Maya had finished her fourth (fifth? sixth? nobody knew) beer stein when she spotted her friend. “Hey Vicky, you wanna try this out?” she said in a slurred voice. “Great way to get it!”

Victoria did not hear Maya’s words as those sounds melted in with the background music. Her senses had become less an accurate a depiction of reality and more a creative interpretation of it. The bar became a watercolor sunset, like the paintings she saw earlier that day hung up in the hotel lobby. Maya became the face from The Scream and time itself became one of Dalí's surrealist clocks, before they decomposed into the shapes of Malevich and the lines of Kandinsky. The gay and lively beats of DJ HillGoose became the haunting notes of Ravel and Pärt, which played on as reality itself was reduced to nothing.

[Sestak]

Lol if it's not too late I'd love to be in this (though I'm Indian-American and probably wouldn't be in China).

In 2040 I'd probably not be in CA anymore (Hopefully I end up in college out of state).'

And I have to say this is easily one of the most well thought-out TLs I've seen.

[President of the great nation of 🏳️‍⚧️]

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Victoria woke up on an infinite plane. There was no horizon, no sense of direction, just a unending, dazzling white infinity. Light touched everything, every surface, in every direction, but there was no sun or other light source from which it came from. The light just was, and so was she.

There was no sound, nothing but her own breath. Carefully, she got up. The ground, if one were to call it that, was smooth, like the texture of polished marble, but with the appearance of plain Tupperware, a smooth, almost slippery surface of nothingness. But it was reflective. As she got up, Victoria saw a reflection of herself staring back at her, admonishing her for her past misdeeds and questioning who she was.

She stood, her two feet planted on the ground, staring at her other self for a good minute or so before two people showed up on the other side. They walked up to Victoria’s reflection as if it was the true Victoria, real in every way except for the reversed gravity. They were an elderly couple, a short woman with curly hair hidden under a polka-dotted scarf, and a man in a well-worn blue coat and blue jeans. They put their arms around the shoulders of Victoria’s reflection, smiling.

My parents.

It was like that scene from Harry Potter; what Harry wanted most in the world, above all else, was to be reunited with his parents. So did Victoria with her biological parents, it seems. Delicately, she raised her arm and waved at them from above the threshold. On the other side, all three - mother, father, daughter - waved back.

Are you real?

And as if to answer her question, the two vanished, leaving Victoria alone with her reflection.

“Victoria,” said a disembodied male voice, “follow me.”

Who are you?

No answer. Instead, she started walking. Where to, she did not know, but walks she did to the edge of infinity.

After what felt like an eternity, something appeared in the distance, from beyond the horizon if a horizon existed. At first, it was a mere point, but as she walked closer she could make out its details. Gray rectangular prisms began to jut out from the ground. They looked like skyscrapers, but they had no windows nor any discernible details, other than a uniformly grainy texture that was reminiscent of concrete, covered by a thin layer of gray dust. Heaps of gray bricks with the same texture surrounded them, scattered about like piles of rubble.

Something started the permeate the previously stale, odorless air as she walked into the abandoned city through a gap in the rubble piles. It was the smell of ash and dust, the smell of the aftermath of a great catastrophe, the smell of death.

The eternal silence, too, was broken by a mysterious female voice that crackled over the radio static, as Victoria walked amongst the ruins.

“One, one, three, two, five, eight…”

As she walked, she observed her surroundings. That pile of bricks that fell apart as soon as she looked at it. The tilted prism that looked like it was about to snap in two. The remains of a prism that had already fallen, its top half having crumbled into another rubble heap.

“Two, seven, five, zero, one, six…”

As she walked, she felt something roll from underneath her. It was a human skull, covered in the gray dust that covered anything. Yet despite the macabre scene, she kept walking. There was something greater she needed to see.

“Seven, eight, nine, one, one, two…”

And then she saw it. It was a hand, lying lifelessly amongst a smallish rubble pile at the base of a half-collapsed prism. She recognized it, and ran over to confirm her suspicions.

My father.

She uncovered just enough bricks to find a face. He looked almost the same from the reflection, but instead of a coat he wore a janitor’s outfit. His hair was disheveled, his face covered in dust, and all color was gone from his skin. One eye was closed, but the other was half open, enough to show that he had the glazed look of the dead.

Dad!

“I’m sorry, Victoria.”

It was that voice again.

“It’s okay,” Victoria said as she began to sob. “It’s okay. You don’t tell me that he’s dead!”

“Victoria, I’m sorry about your dad. But your biological mother is still alive.”

“She is?” she said, swallowing tears as she held the hand of her biological father.

“Yes.”

“Tell me!” she screamed. “Tell me where she is!”

“I can’t tell you now. But if you join me, you two can be reunited.”

“What do you mean ‘join me?’”

“I’ll show you.”

Out of nowhere, a young man walked up and offered Victoria his hand. He was thin yet muscular, clean shaven with green eyes and an olive complexion. He wore a plain blue t-shirt and blue jeans, not unlike what Victoria’s dad wore as a reflection.

Letting go of her father’s hand, Victoria stood up and touched the man’s, palm to palm as if they were reflections in a mirror. As they did, she felt energy flow through her, energy that was at once strange, yet comforting.

“Tim,” she said, recognizing the man standing in front of her. “Timothy Gonzales.”

“Victoria,” Tim said, nodding, “you shall soon be home.”

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

November 15, 2040 - Location Undisclosed, China

Her apartment was dank and cramped, with enough room just for a bed and a desk. There was no space for a kitchenette or even a bathroom. Whenever nature called, she would have to go to the communal restroom at the end of the hall, which was seriously annoying. Even so, she smiled as she opened the door to her apartment. She was phone.

She got out her smartphone, its blue glow being the only light in the apartment. It was a very old one, a souped-up Nokia 2K, but it did the job really well. It was much better suited for the task than any of the newfangled implants young people were using, or even most smartphones or PCs on the market. Here, security was paramount. The Nokia wasn’t numero uno in that regard, but short of obtaining a quantum computer herself, this was the best he could do. It had worked so far, and that was good enough.

She needed all the security he could get to evade the Chinese Communist Party, whose surveillance abilities were the stuff of legend. No other entity could keep such close tabs on over one billion people and their hopes and dreams. It had it most advanced surveillance tech in the world, from AI secret agents that patrol social media websites to mini-cameras with instant facial recognition tech that can be sewn in clothing. Its enemies quaked and trembled in fear, never knowing when (and it was always when, not if) they will be caught. The fact that her cover hadn’t been blown yet was seriously impressive; perhaps she should get a medal, she thought.

A message popped up on the Nokia, safe after undergoing multiple rounds of encryption and decryption and other technical mumbo-jumbo she didn’t understand. Alerted by her phone, she carefully read it, nodding as she scanned each word.

“Protocol Lit.”

A smile formed on her face. She knew what each word meant. Back at Blue Moon in downtown Beijing, after giving her target enough drinks to black out, she had uploaded a virtual world onto her brain implant, one that was custom-made just for said target. Now the target was completely immersed, and it was only a matter of time before she becomes psychologically overpowered and joins them. It was a risky move, especially in the center of Beijing during the Sino-American Dialogues - the time and place where the CCP had total control - but apparently it worked.

As soon as she finished reading, she yawned. It was getting late - 2:15 AM, Beijing Time - and they did all they could do. She put her Nokia aside and started taking off her green dress in complete excitement, as she barely concealed her giddy excitement.

Score one for the Neo-Rationalist Buddhists, she thought. Soon, Vicky, you will join your mother and become one of us.

End of Chapter 4

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Hope you all liked Chapter 4, despite taking five months to complete. Unfortunately, this semester I have a very heavy courseload at university, so I probably won't be touching this until the end of May. (Likewise when junior year starts in September.) But Chapter 5 will be coming, and we'll start to answer the important questions, like:

Who are the Neo-Rationalist Buddhists?
How did Amber and Crystal react to Trump's inauguration?
What exactly have the Dems been up to?

In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of the First Gentleman of the United States, Michael B. Jordan Coleman Harris.

[morgankingsley]

Will Chapter 5 cover the 2020 election? A simple yes or no would be fine. Either way, I am very much looking forward to that election

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Will Chapter 5 cover the 2020 election? A simple yes or no would be fine. Either way, I am very much looking forward to that election

2020 election? No.

2017 election? We'll see.

[morgankingsley]

Will Chapter 5 cover the 2020 election? A simple yes or no would be fine. Either way, I am very much looking forward to that election

2020 election? No.

2017 election? We'll see.

Alright thanks for the answer. Well I am still excited to see how chapter 5 goes down. Good luck next term

[GM Team Member and Senator WB]

I'm so confused I just started and the first thing i see is that hillgoose is a dj in china and is now actually a goose help

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Chapter 5: Rude Love

“all organizing is science fiction.

we are bending the future, together, into something we have never experienced. a world where everyone experiences abundance, access, pleasure, human rights, dignity, freedom, transformative justice, peace. we long for this, we believe it is possible.”

Adrienne Marie-Brown, Writer, Octavia’s Brood

January 21, 2017 - Washington, D.C.

The sky was about to cry the day Melissa and I arrived at Union Station. It was the first full day of Trump’s rule, the first full day of the apocalypse. I still remembered the night when he won, from his surprise wins in the Midwest (like if you met Melissa you’d think Minnesota was all liberal, all the time!), to the longing cries of my friends, and even that weird dream I had where Amber’s friend died or something. I don’t know, I often have weird dreams. If only that reality was just another one of those.

But while the sky was gray and somber, the people below were anything but. They were mad. They wanted Trump out, and nothing would stop in their way. Not even all the trouble we went through, like getting up at six in the morning to catch the JHMI Shuttle to Baltimore Penn Station, only to find out that a line of pink-hatted activists had already stretched around the entire block. Literally. It was so absurd, I just had to take a picture of it.

After waiting for what seemed like an hour or two in line, we gave up and decided to split an Uber, only to wait another half an hour to find a driver who wouldn’t cancel on us.

It wasn’t any easier when we got here and walked into Union Station, with thousands of people and their bulky coats and signs trying to squeeze in like sardines in a can. The only empty space I could find was around a table manned by a baggy-eyed Trump supporter selling red MAGA hats, who was visibly disappointed by the lack of customers today.

“Melissa,” I said as she scanned the station for a bathroom, “you know where we’re supposed to go right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Melissa said. “You’re the president of the damn club! Even if we’re the only two who came as part of it!”

“It’s not my fault that everyone’s going with the socialists and feminists instead, Miss Melissa Michova” I said, referring to the Hopkins Progressives and the Hopkins Feminists clubs, respectively.

“Are are you saying that we’re not socialists or feminists ourselves?” my friend asked.

“Yes to the second one,” I responded, shrugging, “but to the first one, I guess that depends.”

“Tell that to Amber, Miss Nancy Pelosi,” Melissa said as she finally spotted the women’s restroom. As she went, I waited outside, wondering whether Amber Moon will show up or stay in her dorm posting angry radical screeds on Facebook.

As soon as Melissa finished, we walked out of Union Station, passed by a very out-of-place “Abortion is Murder” truck, and mindlessly followed the main crowd as they winded their way away from Columbia Circle, pass the utterly packed Corner Bakery Cafe, and through Louisiana Avenue to the National Mall. Though the January air was normally fresh and cold, the sheer mass of people - women, men, and children alike - ensured a wet and humid experience. The lines of green and white porta-potties on the streets did not help.

In due time, we finally made it to the National Mall, a place of unprecedented people crush. In the distance, I could barely see the group of celebrity activists who were supposedly trying to make their stump speeches. Not that I had to; the real energy today was with the common people and their chants.

“Not my president!”

“This is what democracy looks like!”

“My body, my choice!”

“No war with China! No grabbing of vaginas!”

“Okay I’m not saying that one,” I said, referring to the last chant.

“You don’t think Trump’s gonna start a war with China?” Melissa said, as she poked and prodded the crowd to find a way in.

“Who knows,” I said, “I’m not gonna say ‘vagina.’”

“Why not?” Melissa asked. “Politeness in politics is over.”

In front of us, a man noticed us trying to squeeze in and made some room. “Sorry,” Melissa said as she grabbed my wrist and led me in.

“I can’t believe it,” Melissa said as we snaked through the gazillions of people in front of us. It was an intensely uncomfortable experience, as my purse and body rubbed against everyone else as we made our way through this shifting mass.

“What?” I asked. “What can’t you believe?”

“What?” Melissa said. “I can’t hear you!”

“I said,” taking a deep breath, “What can you not believe?!”

“Oh,” Melissa said, her confusion slightly relieved. “I’m just excited that we’re in the middle of making history!”

I sighed. “We shouldn’t have to be making history in the first place!”

That seemed to shut her up for a bit. “You’re right,” Melissa said quietly, which I could somehow hear over all these chants. “But it’s still pretty amazing. Just look at all these signs. Make sure you take pictures of all of them.

I looked around, and indeed there were tons of signs, from big and fancy to plain and simple. Some of them were scathing screeds of anti-Trumpism; others were actually quite funny. We were lucky that we didn’t get any paper cuts from the any of them. I kind of wish that we had made a poster, but oh well. Melissa let go of my wrist as I took out my phone and started taking pics:

As I was busy taking pics of everything around me and thinking of what to put on my Instagram feed, I heard a familiar voice. “Did you hear that?” I asked Melissa.

“What?” she said.

“It’s coming from there,” I replied. This time I grabbed her hand as we headed in the direction I pointed it. I wish I was as graceful as Melissa was when she made her way. If she was a viper who could slide through any nook and cranny, I was an elephant who knocked down everyone and everything in the way.

As we got closer, the words became clearer.

“What is the symptom?”

“Trump!”

“What is the disease?”

“Capitalism!”

“What is the solution?”

“Socialism!”

Melissa turned towards me, now knowing who I was talking about. “Amber, we said in unison.”

We were both fairly short girls, so it took effort stretching our necks over heads and hats to see what was going on. But we could see it. At the center of a circle stood Amber on an unseen platform, armed with nothing but her voice, a small black and orange anarchist sign she held in her right hand, and her own convictions.

With her short blond hair as recognizable as the fire on the Statue of Liberty, we could immediately spot her. But she immediately eyed us back. As soon as she finished, she stepped down and parted the ring of people around her to talk to us.

“I see you neoliberals had the stones to make it,” she said, wearing a quizzical expression on her face.

The three of us stood there awkwardly in silence as the sea of protesters flowed around us. The circle behind her disappeared as people found other, more interesting speakers to listen to. But Amber didn’t mind. Just as she caused the silence, she broke it, taking out what looked like two cookies packaged in red wrapping out of a Hopkins drawstring bag.

“Choco Pies?” Amber asked with a quirky smile, offering us some of the famous Korean marshmallow snack.

“Sure,” Melissa said, taking one.

“I guess I’ll have one too,” I said, wondering about the path each of us will take as we resist our new president.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Now that classes are over, I'm back! And besides covering the first few months of the Trump Administration, I'm also planning to cover the 2040 New Hampshire primaries, and perhaps a few others.

Except...

The mapmaking instructions in the pinned thread seem to be a bit outdated (I followed the instructions and all I got were white states with blank outlines.) Does anyone know how to make colorful primary maps these days?

[President of the great nation of 🏳️‍⚧️]

I get that it's just a picture and all, but that's false: He'd still have had one wife. But ignoring that, good sh**t, NJ.

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Oh and next update will be an Atlas thread update. Who wants to be in this one?

[Cold War Liberal]

Oh and next update will be an Atlas thread update. Who wants to be in this one?

ME

[morgankingsley]

I should totz be in it (even though I didnt even join until July 2017 but whatever)

[Sestak]

Oh and next update will be an Atlas thread update. Who wants to be in this one?

I'd love to. But please not from CA. (IA or PA would be ideal, but it's up to you). Also would probably be an Indy in this TL (and probably a Sun supporter).

[Lord Admirale]

I'd be a happy man if you made me Governor or a Senator from New Jersey in this. You can pick what party since I imagine the GOP could be more liberal by the year 2040 and the Democrats may be "Sanderized."  

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

Just to be clear this next Atlas update will be right after the 2017 Women's March. If you wern't on the Atlas then I'll just make you newbies. (Consider Trump winning MN+NH as extra motivation for joining early.)

[morgankingsley]

Just to be clear this next Atlas update will be right after the 2017 Women's March. If you wern't on the Atlas then I'll just make you newbies. (Consider Trump winning MN+NH as extra motivation for joining.)

Okay that's fair. I wonder how people will react to the fact that I voted Johnson in TTL

[Unapologetic Chinaperson]

 Atlas Forum
- Forum Community
-- Forum Community (Moderators: TexasGurl, Cath, Attorney General TJ)
--- Anyone went to the Women's March?

#ImpeachTrump nj_dem YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 1411

Anyone went to the Women's March? « on: January 21, 2017, 08:42:00 pm »I went to the Women's March in DC with a friend. Lots of people from Hopkins did. Wow it was crowded, but it was lovely. Did anyone else go? I'm curious now.

ExtremeLiberal ExtremeDemocrat YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 4113

Anyone went to the Women's March? « Reply # 1 on: January 21, 2017, 08:44:44 pm »Went to the one in Nashville. I was so happy that I was around so many fellow citizens who want to stand up for womens' right to choose!

morgankingsley Jr. Member ★★★★ Posts: 114

Anyone went to the Women's March? « Reply #2 on: January 21, 2017, 08:47:31 pm » You must be logged in to read this quote. God do you have to insert an abortion rights screed every time you post? I get you're passionate, and I actually support abortion rights, but please it's kind of annoying.

JFK KennedyWannabe99 Sr. Member ★★★★ Posts: 261

Anyone went to the Women's March? « Reply #3 on: January 21, 2017, 08:48:18 pm » You must be logged in to read this quote. God do you have to insert an abortion rights screed every time you post? I get you're passionate, but please.[/quote] Abortion rights was literally one of the main issues of the march. Ironically, as the OP is from Hopkins, I went to the march in Baltimore

Admiral President YaBB God ★★★★★ Posts: 1723

Anyone went to the Women's March? « Reply #4 on: January 21, 2017, 08:49:30 pm »Nah why would I? It's all a bunch of people who can't handle the fact their candidate lost. I'm sure some of them would go back to being regular boring centrist people by Christmas.