The Chancellor's Mansion, Browderville, USSA
The Chancellor was sitting in a fancy leather chair, ornately decorated with its legs embellished with the fierceness of four lions. The desk was equally ornate, made with five different sorts of wood created in and imported from Brazil one century ago. The War Room was packed with the Chancellor's most loyal generals, bellies fat from their food and wine and their chests covered with medals. The Chancellor himself attempted to look imposing; however, years of stress, alcohol, and morphine have taken their toll. His hair was grey and disheveled; his face was wrinkled and looked akin to an unborn fetus; his eyes, which in their better days could kill on sight, were now two black, charred lumps of charcoal.
"So, you has finished writing about the return of racism in the United States," Gen. Thomas Gale said while pointing a map on the desk, which depicted Browderville and the surrounding areas. "Soon enough, others began joining in, including Lord Bigfoot, Moai Spammer, and others."
Chancellor Atlantic Pacf. relaxed himself; he sunk slightly back into his chair. "Excellent, Tom," he said, waving his fingers into the air. "The racial conflicts shall make future stories much more exciting."
Gale, with his colleagues, looked more nervous than ever. They looked at each other apprehensively, their foreheads gleaming with sweat. Silently, they agreed not to inform Atlantic of Royal Tenebaum's capriciousness.
"Mr. Chancellor," Gen. Jake Abernathy started. "RT, um, RT..."
"RT decided to veto all stories on '50s era segregation," Gale continued. "He says that after years of Lady Lockwood, Debs, Communist rule, and the Progressive Party, it would not make sense for Americans to still be racist."
Atlantic's feelings of relaxation immediately went away. On the outside, his change of feelings were only expressed via him changing his smile to a frown. Five seconds passed when nobody did anything, nor speak anything. Atlantic placed his elbows on the desk and slowly removed his reading glasses from his face, his arms and hands shaking and trembling as they do.
"Everyone in the room, leave," Atlantic said quietly, "with the exception of the following: Abernathy, Gale, Dexter, and Finn."
And so everyone who wasn't Abernathy, Gale, Dexter, or Finn did so, noisily shuffling themselves out of the room through the single door behind them. The last man out did not bother to close the door. Atlantic stood up a bit out of his chair and attempted to scowl at him, and failed. Despite that, the man slammed the door, as a final act of defiance.
Atlantic completely stood up and redirected his anger at his chosen four.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! I SPENT ALL NIGHT ON THOSE STORIES! AND THEY ALL WENT TO WASTE! THAT'S TERRIBLE! DOES HE KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE AN AUTHOR WHO HAS TO MAKE HIS STORIES PROPER IN ORDER TO GET THEM APPROVED? DOES HE KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF CENSORSHIP?"
"But Atlantic," Gale quickly said, "I can't let you challenge RT's decisions It is his story, and he gets to do what he wants!"
"DO YOU NOT REALIZE THE MAGNITUDE OF SUCH A SWEEPING CHANGE? SEGREGATION AND RACISM WAS ONE OF THE MAIN FEATURES OF AMERICAN HISTORY SINCE ITS INCEPTION! AND THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT IS THE BEST-KNOWN PART! YOU THINK THAT RT WOULD NOT NEGLECT TO PUT SUCH AN IMPORTANT PART IN! BUT ALAS, NOT ONLY DID HE NOT INCLUDE THE CIVIL RIGHTS STRUGGLES, HE HAS WENT OUT AND DECLARED THEM NULLIFIED! THAT 'STORYTELLER,' DOES HE NOT SEE TRUE TALENT?"
"But Mr. Chancellor, this is outrageous! RT's reasoning makes total sense! After years of progressive leadership, racism as seen in OTL would be long extinct! It's only fair that all things follow!"
"SHUT UP, THEN!" Atlantic continued, cutting off Gale. "ROYAL TENENBAUM! ROYAL TENENBAUM! HE THINKS THAT SUCH THINGS CAN HAPPEN, THAT PEOPLE WILL SEE A COMMUNIST PRESIDENT AND SAY 'OH, WE OUGHT NOT BE RACIST.' IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY! PEOPLE STILL REMAIN RACIST THESE DAYS IN REAL LIFE, EVEN FIFTY YEARS AFTER THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT! OF COURSE PEOPLE WOULD STILL REMAIN RACIST BACK THEN, ESPECIALLY WHEN RACIAL EQUALITY BECAME ASSOCIATED WITH COMMUNISTIC TOTALITARIANISM!"
Atlantic slowly sat down back into his seat, panting heavily. His berated generals look on, wondering about their eventual fates.
"I," Atlantic said, looking down at the floor, "I started writing on this timeline to document the society and culture of the alternate United States. One of those main things was about race relations, which were in their nadir during that time. And when I wrote my stories, people saw them and became amazed at their quality. And so I began writing more, and the cycle continues to this day."
The generals remain silent, unmoving except for their breathing. The same applied for the mass of people listening just outside the wood door.
"So it has come to this." Atlantic looked up to his generals. His pride was gone. "Ever since that one time RT censored one of my stories, I lived under the fear of his capriciousness. Every time I posted a story, I was worried that RT would either ignore it or worse, deem it 'unfitting.' And now, it has happened on a grand scale. My worst fears have been realized."
Atlantic looked at a wall clock, then back at his generals.
"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You know, I'm going to Photoshop RT into that Bush shoe throwing photo. Let's see how he likes it."
Gale started to bite his salty fingers.
"Gale, go to the nearest computer and delete my CFC account."
