[Co-written by me and Glatux.]
IZVESTIYA
Travels in the West
Nadezhda Ivanova
Lilithcity, Gaul
On this May Day, the Witch syndicates decided to invite reporters from 'sister nations' those who shared the wisdom of brother Marx. People were out in the street in mass, eating and drinking from various cooking and cocktailmaking stands, where anyone could come in and either make themselves something or make it for other, listening carefully the words 'orgy' and 'after the ceremony' seem to be heard in whispers.
But that's probably not what people see first when coming into the Witch syndicates, what jump to the eyes is the seeming lack of men, which does at first lend credence to some of the most vile rumors told about them. But further investigation will quickly reveal that in fact a normal proportion of the people you see are men, here the masculine ideal is actually quite feminine, and while other terms are used, the word sister is often throw around. The journalist would be invited to the grand ceremony scheduled to happen after 4pm.
This was a pretty long journey, especially once we had to sit at the Danish docks, and our boat had to be detained for a brief moment by German authorities, as we were awkwardly explaining our arrival, reason for passing through the Sound, and so forth. In the meantime, we briefly looked for some literature in Copenhagen, so as to ascertain the situation in France. Regrettably, I must admit, the bourgeoisie newspapers in the Republic are rather, ah, lacking on actual, factual information on France, and it seemed to engage more into the typical fearmongering that flares up when something outside of "normalcy" appears. So, with little more knowledge than with what we set off from Petrograd, we embarked into the port city of Calais.
To be true, the very word "syndicate" had set off some alarms in the offices of Izvestiya, and in the end, the invitation that was sent out had to be given to someone with a more...female touch, that is to say, yours truly, Nadezhda Ivanova. Our editor is still recovering after the whole embarrassing thing with New Bharat and all that. Nevertheless. Let us continue. We were welcomed into the Calais "sisterhood" with the chants: "Here they are, here they are! The daughters of Brother Marx!".
When I asked "what about, ah, brother Engels?", I got the following answer:
"Brother Engels? Of course we remember Marx's great companion, but to us the words of Marx are more significant" this reply was given by an older looking woman who introduced herself as the assigned guide, "I'm Eleanor duBois, welcome to the syndicate, comrade".
I had to stifle a desire within myself at this response, to ask about brothers Lenin and Mao, or perhaps even sisters Kollontai and Krupskaya, and that the development of Marxism is not thrown upon the shoulders of a singular Great Man. Instead, however, I merely nodded and smiled, and offered to shake the woman's hand. "My name is Nadezhda, I am glad to meet you, comrade Eleanor.". I looked around at the crowd. On a first glance, one would be perhaps forgiven if they believe the rumours that all men have been "thrown into camps and feminized", as at least one German tabloid claimed. Many men seemed to be breaking the patriarchal norms in their appearance, both in clothing and makeup, and even in their behaviour. I would have loved to stay here longer and do a further materialist analysis of this society. Alas! No time for such a thing. My guide gently touched my hand, rather freely, and said:
"Calais is a fine city, but I believe we must get going. The train to Lilithcity is about to go, and we can't miss the main event!" Eleanor said.
"The main event?" I asked.
"Yes! Of course! Why else would you be here?"
"Well, we were told we'd witness a ritual sacrifice, but surely, this is merely an euphenism, is it not? For the most part, we've moved past that stage of development, is that not wrong?"
"Ah, my foolish girl! No. Just like the bourgeoisie bleed the workers dry, so shall we bleed the bourgeoisie, using their blood to invoke the light bringer, the first rebel!" Eleanor spiritedly told me. We were approaching the train station. Across us, the walls of the houses were richly decorated with most distinctive street art, praising Lilith, a figure from the gnostic? lore. Clearly, the collapse of organized religion has had curious results.
"And who may that be…?" Could it be true? Did they actually worship Satan?
"Well Lucifer, of course, the morning star, what greater rebellion is there than to rebel against the elder one? Or god as some call him."
I raised my eyebrows in shock. "You do realize that…". That is when the train came in, and stole some of my words away. Perhaps for the better. Eleanor quickly went aboard the train, probably without hearing anything I said from the train, and I followed her. This was getting stranger and stranger by the moment. There were no conductors inside, and no one paid any tickets.
I was quiet. Eleanor found someone else to chat with in the coupe we were in, while I was collecting my thoughts. This was somewhat different from the social democrats/opportunists in Germany. It was also pretty far from any sort of orthodox Marxism-Leninism, despite their commitment to "brother Marx". Unfortunately, I didn't bring any theoretical literature with me, and probably for the better, lest I'd create a faux pas, if you will. At least it appeared as if they've got their hearts in the right places.
"Welcome to Lilithcity, comrade Nadezhda!" I was jolted out of my thought process, and I got off the train with Eleanor.
Before me, stood Lilithcity - formerly Paris.
When entering the city the first thing people would see would be the growing industrial sector outside the 'city', it was hard to determine the actual size of the city, as there were no small neighborhoods, and everything was part of a great urban sprawl. The streets were filled with trees give it a sort of eco-urban feel, if it wasn't the the general gothic themed general aesthetic, curiously harkening to a past time while still pointing towards the future. When walking down the street, Lilithcity would be hardly distinguishable from any bourgeois city, filled with shops and cafés with high rises everywhere.
It would be, however, a mistake to qualify it as such.. Some of these high rises were inner city farms, primarily hydroponics. That would explain the relative lack of farms that we saw while travelling through the countryside. Cafés charged no money for the drinks they offered, and were meeting spots for the local area, while restaurants, on the other hand were more communal kitchens, than a fancy dining place. Finally, something that wouldn't look out of place in any city in the USSR, there were convenience stores, simply called 'depots', a place where people would come get food rations, and make requests for other items, "...to each according to their need".
Not all was normal looking however. Dark temples, in a rather stark contrast, were peeking there and here. They primarily were dedicated to Lilith, however, some of them were merely libraries, and you could say that, after all, they are temples of knowledge.
"Well. Paris- pardon me, Lilithcity- is not what I read about it in the books. Or papers." I said, as I was following my guide to the grand temple, where I was told the ritual sacrifice would happen. Around us, there were rowdy, and somewhat drunk May Day crowds, spontaneously kissing each other and, ah, going into what one could tactly call acts of solidarity. Eventually, we finally got to the grand temple, the crowd getting more dense, and more, touchy, if you will, as there seemed to be drinks abound for every taste and every flavour.
The temple's inner sanctum was spacious and dark, lighting provided only by the sunlight passing through the murals and candles. At the center, where an altar normally would stand in a Catholic church, there was an inclined wall with engraving, that were made so a liquid would go in, and you could see exactly what the liquid was going to be. As people were done getting in, a group of women in dark robes came through a door on top of the engraved wall. Accompanying them were four people, who were tied up and gagged were dragged in, dressed in rather fancy, but by now, tattered clothing. One of the women in black, with a more ornate attire, spoke into a microphone carried by another black-robed woman. She opened her sermon with the following words:
"Welcome, welcome sisters, comrade, children of the Dark Mother, welcome on this beautiful workers day, a day of celebration, of our freedom, our freedom for the age of capital, as our Dark mother teaches, we're all one big family, we must help each other, on this day we celebrate the light bringer rebellion against the elder one, which made the corrupt, magiphobic and patriarchal clergy…" the speech went on, in a strange mixture of a religious sermon and a party meeting.
"Unfortunately, the age of Capital isn't over and that pains our Mother, a pain that must be soothed, and her craving is for the blood of the guilty. Now, remember that our Mother teaches forgiveness, but some, even when given a second chance, refuse to abandon the cruel world, that they create and profit from! They still wish to drink the blood of the workers! Now's the time to send these sinners to meet the Dark Mother so that she can teach them herself, and for the blood to be returned to the family!"
With those final words, the others women in black slit the throat of the prisoners, their blood spilling over the wall and coloring those engraving which clearly displayed a mosaic filled with various symbols, including some very clearly Satanic ones. "All hail the Dark Mother, that welcomes us in her arms. Rise Lucifer and bring us victory in our world revolution, so that blood no longer need be spilled!". The crowd chanted back "Thank you, Mother!!!"."Remember to enjoy the party, today is a day of celebration after all!"
I will be fair with you, Reader, as the crowd chanted "Thank you, Mother!", I found myself joining the choir. There was something ecstatic to this whole ceremony, and I think even the most militant atheist would have been stirred. To be true, seeing the bourgeoisie bleeding to death did help with that, I cannot deny that, either. There was a certain...spiritedness to it, a unity of a whole. For a split moment, I felt that I was part of this crowd, that I was one of them, too. Of course...well, the only thing that objectively unified us was our one and the same goals as a single class - that is to say, the end of capitalism and the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie. Just something to dwell on.
For the remaining day, we were invited to party and celebrate May Day, but, unlike the usually jubilant occasion this is, I was lost in thought. What to write, what to say, what to not say and write...Ah, well! In the end, I've decided to write what I felt, saw and thought. So, as an epilogue, I shall lay down my thoughts on what's to be done with Gaul. Objectively speaking, they are a state guided by idealist practices, an idealist ideology and an idealist religion. Their whole country is a contradiction, of the rather backwards religious rituals, the strange Gothic architecture, all combined in a mish-mash with futuristic technology, egalitarian principles and relatively well-developed class consciousness. Subjectively, I believe that they are - much like New Bharat, though to be fair, in their case, the Neo-Buddhist philosophy is admirably materialistic - a great ally in Europe and the currently unfolding situation there. Systemic risk - that is a word we keep hearing from our diplomats - exists everywhere, and war, conflict and devastation may occur at any time. Without allies in Europe, East Asia, North America, Africa and so forth, how can we hope to bring the proletarian revolution? The only logical choice is for the USSR to become the guiding and leading torch of Marxism-Leninism and lead by example, to the best of our efforts. In the end, men (and women!) do not make history under self-selected circumstances, but rather, under ones transferred by the past to the present.
