TENSEI

The S.U.D.S. is pleased there will be peace. We are not going to need to conduct drills, though for safety we will enhance our forces just to be on the safe side.

The first test launch of our space programmed, to be conducted in Sardinia, will hence be codenamed Eirene to honour the peace.
 
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I always thought I was the Good Guy
Spoiler I wanna shine a light; On the things you do. :

Royal Palace of Darul Aman, New Kabul
4:27 AM


Al-Ummah stared with tired, weary and bloodshot eyes out from the bulletproofed windows of his office and towards the city of New Kabul. His ever-growing beard was unkempt and soiled with pieces of cheetos dust and cocaine. He exhaled irritably. His breath reeked heavily of whiskey and, somehow, more cocaine. New Kabul had seen great changes over the last thirty years.

Before the Caliphate's rise to power the city was but a crumbling pile of sand, rubble and unspent munition. It was now a shimmering light amid a sea of sand, seeing great improvements with new parks, agri-towers and glittering high-rises taking form. Before taking his gaze away from his work, he saw two guards hacking up a woman with machetes in front of his palace for being outside without a husband to oversee her. Good for them. Nothing beats a good work-out.

He danced awkwardly from the windows and over to his panda-skin swivel chair, spinning it around and staring up into the gold-lined ceiling which shimmered brightly from all the blood diamonds which had been installed into it to resemble stars. One of the diamonds seemed a bit off, however. He picked up a recorder from his Giorgi Armani suit pocket and activated it with a swift motion of his thumb, bringing it to the edge of his lips.

"Note to self. Have the palace refurnishing foreman executed."

He turned off the recorder and dabbed with it still in hand before putting it back into his pocket.

He picket it back up.

"And his family."

As he stood up from his chair and adjusted his suit there came a knocking from the door. "A moment." the Caliph coughed together before rustling his beard and hiding away all the cocaine from his office table. He found a piece of shrimp in his beard. He couldn't remember the last time he ate shrimp, but ate it anyway. Everyone needs protein before a meeting with a subject, after all. "Come in."

The massive redwood doors were opened by two heavily armed guards before a scrawny man in a labcoat entered the room. He approached the Caliph and sat down in front of his desk. "Assalamualaikum, professor Ahman." Al-Ummah confirmed, before leaning back into his chair and playing with his gold pen. The professor cleared his throat and crossed his legs after giving the Caliph a salute. "Wasalamualaikum waratu'allah. My glorious Caliph, the project is going as we expected but we are being held back by a shortage of funds. With all the resources going to the military, we simply do not have the means to continue forward.."

"So, you're saying I am to blame?" Al-Ummah asked as he put down his pen, glaring upon the professor. "Of course not! No, of course not! Glorious Caliph, your wise and noble choice of putting the entire nation's economy into the army is nothing but the most explicit display of tactical genius and having a savvy mind for business! We simply request that more funds are put our away so that we can continue with our research for the project y-you yourself wanted done."

"Well, of course. I see the problem. Not to worry, Ahmad. You and your team will have your funding increased." the Caliph nodded, scratching his beard. Ahmad nodded fervently and rose from his chair, saluting his Caliph and turning to leave the office. As he left and the guards closed the doors Al-Ummah picked up and snorted another line of cocaine off of the office table before turning his chair about, leaning in his recorder.

"Note to self. Have professor Ahmad executed."

He picket it back up.

"And his family."
 
From Oxbridge
To the World
CC Dominion of India


The members of the Trade Conference of Independent States have voted in favour of accepting the Dominion of India's membership application. They are now a full voting member of TCIS.
 
The Dominion of India humbly accepts their place as a trade member of the TCIS, and announces that it will remain as a military associate of the GDTDG. May we all come together for mutual prosperity and ever-growing friendships between one another.
 
"Where is Babylon in this world? It's easy, all you have to do is follow the recently concluded Tunisian crisis. Those that flocked away from Jah's message and towards the den of lies that is Rome.

Firstly we must note it wasn't just any one of the white devils who returned to Africa to try to enslave us. It was Italy. You know what else is in Italy? The Whore of Babylon, the Roman "Catholic" "Church". The institution that co-opted Jah's Unconquerable Truth in their hedonistic pagan cult. The one that tried to censor that Adam and Eve were Ethiopian, and that god's covenant were with the Africans. Thousands of years of propaganda that Jesus and the Chosen People were pale as snow, in order to create their false and evil hierarchy of the white man lording over the noble African. A false religion literally used to bind us and ship us over to a strange world to act as their chattel.

Who was the Whore of Babylon supported by? The Nazis in the Nordics, an organization the Whore supported in World War 2, an organization based on the rejection of Jah's message of equal salvation of all of mankind. One where the Aryan race is in itself holy, and that only the Aryan race is holy. They wish to exterminate what they consider to be "inferior" races, in which, of course, Jah's chosen people must be one of these people. Jah struck the Nazis down with furious anger after they dared to attempt to attack Christ Ras Tafari, and he will strike down these unrepentant sinners again!

And let us not forget the next nation rushing to the Whore's aid was the Caliphate in Afghanistan. They follow the teachings of the moon god Allah, and his "prophet" Muhammed was little more than an agent of the Whore of Babylon to turn the Chosen People further away from Jah's light. So even as the Whore was condeming so-called and alleged "Islamic" fundamentalism of Sahel and Zion, the good little puppets in Afghanistan came rushing to their aid, and Italy breaking character to accept said aid. As if we were too stupid to understand the 180 that happened with Italy's rhetoric

And don't forget the final piece of the puzzle, Germany, the last relic of the old order before the Troubles. They still remember the time where the white man ruled and the African served, and they wish nothing more but to return to the way of the past. Where everyone bowed down to their almighty Euro, sang Beethoven and Wagner, and ate their hamburgers and frankfurters while praising their god the free market! No more, we say! Their neoliberal order was untenable, and no more will we bow down to it!

Thusly, the Whore of Babylon's tendrils slither out of Rome, infecting the nations of man to opposes Jah and his Kingdom of Heaven. Catholicism, Nazism, Wahabilism, and Neoliberialism all four sides of the same coin of evil, an insidious multifaced ideology used to deceive mankind away from Jah! Any good Christian with faith in Jesus will condemn all of these nations and their twisted ideologies, and one day their false leaders will burn in Hell for all eternity for their undeniable and unrepentant sins!"

-Terry Jones, first episode of the number one rated program on Channel 3, "Babylon Wars"
 
The predominant aesthetic of Zanzibarland new construction in this formative period was the idea of the “jungle town," a high-rise arcology that was meant to house several dozen thousand people. The name was a double meaning: firstly, that the arcology would integrate vertical farming schemes and a bountiful quantity of flora in its design, such that; secondly, that the arcology would be subdivided into discrete layers with distinct purposes, much like the vertical stratification of a tropical rainforest's ecology.

Staring from the bottom, the floor of the arcology was. Supposing that the average arcology rose 30 storeys, the floor might encompass the ground through the 5th floor. The floor would be designed to serve a transit network, not the other way around; thus, an arcology's train station (or, in some cases, ferry terminal) would be quite literally the centre of activity. Arrayed around this transit hub would be high-density commercial space and spaces for open markets. Some local entertainment would be located there as well, but it was expected that most would instead choose to go to the urban core for serious nightlife. In addition, the floor would contain an arcology's control centre, doubly serving as a local government authority and as the heart of emergency services.

Moving up, the understorey would form the bulk of the city’s living and working space. It might take up the 6th through 25th floors of a 30-level structure. Residential spaces would be interspersed with branching three-dimensional "street grid" of skylobbies and skywalks. Skylobbies would serve as reception points for the arcolohy's lifts; they would also contain small-scale commercial hubs and the same purpose that one's local high street might have served in a pre-Trouble city; they might also contain primary schools, churches, or mosques. Skywalks would serve as "streets in the sky" and encourage residents to interact.

Some workspaces would be interspersed in the understorey, too; telecommunication had broken down the barrier between home and workplace even before the Troubles, and Zanzibarland arcology designers kept this fact in mind. The understorey might contain artisanal enterprises or "cottage factories," filled with 3D printers and intended for local manufacturing. This would help give an arcology some economic base, rather than render it purely as a dormitory town. However, an arcology would not contain the offices of the Authority's many bureaucratic agencies, large corporations, universities, research facilities, or generally other white-collar occupations; those would be located elsewhere, either in the city centre.

The canopy, topping off the bulk of the cell’s buildings, would be largely devoted to solar panel banks, urban agriculture, and rainwater collection. The upper five floors of a thirty-storey building might be dedicated to the canopy; they would contain the facilities needed for the upkeep, support, and mainenance of those life-giving facilities. Thanks to the thick layer of urban agriculture, the canopy quite literally took the appearence of tropical treetops. This would certainly not be enough to feed all residents of an arcology, so urban agricultural spaces were usually dedicated to growing specialty crops such as fruits and vegetables, rather than staples. Solar panel banks, however, were usually enough to power an arcology; while arcologies were still connected to the greater city electrical grid, during a sunny day they could be self-sustaining and indeed a net producer of electricity.

Finally, there was the emergent layer, consisting of high-rises that would be utilised for various, usually civic and community-oriented purposes such as high schools, trade colleges, libraries, and healthcare facilities. These were sparsely located buildings that rose like antennae, several storeys higher than the rest of the canopy. Recreational space would be located here too, offering the jungle city’s residents the amenities of meadows in the sky, and literal hanging gardens of Babylon.

In a break from the typical fashion of a tropical rainforest, the jungle city would be constructed in a way that there were shafts for light to reach all the way down to the floor. Despite this, the floor's density often meant that its interior resembled the neon passageways of Chungking Mansions more than the spacious grounds of an actual mansion. Still, from above, an arcology would look closer to a convoluted green honeycomb of glass sinkholes - imagine a bank of pods in a Japanese capsule hotel, tilted vertically. From below, looking up from an open space in the floor, it would look much like a paradisiacal vision of an overgrown Hong Kong estate.

All residential spaces were constructed with at least one floor-to-ceiling window, in theory allowing plenty of light through. Furthermore, for many newcomers, especially from rural areas, this was their first experience with the amenities of a modern kitchen. Said kitchens were all built open-plan to encourage a breakdown of traditional gender roles. The transition from a survival-oriented rural existence to a hyperconnected, postmodern, urban life was hard for many, and a bizarre economy of "teachers" and "helpers" existed to ease it. Many of these, despite the Authority's strident secularism, came in the form of one's local church or mosque, and those religious centres would become the backbone of communities that formed.

A small army of maintenance drones would ensure the proper functioning and cleanliness of all facilities for the maximum health, comfort, and security of the residents. Some of these would include Lizards, window-washing drones that cling to the prismatic glass rises and keep them pristine, and Birds of Paradise, atmospheric monitoring and scrubbing drones, tasked with measuring the air quality within a cell and to “clean up” particulates and allergens from the air as best as they could. Although certainly beneficial to residents’ health and well-being, their main purpose was really to keep the air congenial for plant life.

The jungle city was truly the residence of the future, but due to their high initial cost, between 2055 and 2060, few were built outside the tightly controlled and regulated environment of Zanzibar City. Mainland cities - Mombasa, Dar es Salaam, and Nairobi in particular - continued to have large areas of informal housing caused by local authorities' inability to keep up with urban migration. The Authority chose not to relocate residents from slums and break up local communities that had formed there; instead, their policy was to work to deliver and install services directly to informal communities, slowly bringing them up to a modern standard of living.
 
Repubic of Cyprus news.

the Recent TV episode from babylon has seriously angered the more religious people of the nation. they are calling to have the TV show banned, because it "offends their religions" and their "oh so delicate" sensibilities.

the President of Cyprus, decided not to ban the show, clearly stating that its a TV show, and does not reflect the government's or even its people's opinions, and that the government does not actually have the power to ban TV shows and movies.
 
If you are listening to this Friedrich, it means I am no longer of this world. It is a pity, and I had hoped to see you grow into the fine young man I know you will become. You are going to inherit all of Haus Industries, and I need you to be prepared for that, even though I know this seems scary. But I need you to be brave. You can trust Luther and Darius; others, I would be more wary of. Niijima-san can be difficult, but I assure you his ambitions are the same as my own. Plus *chuckes* he has a daughter your age. But I digress...

Because you are inheriting my company, you are going to continue building the society I began. It is important to note what our state should become, and to understand why I did what I did.

Our Directorate is focused not on the here and now, but on the future, in all aspects. Humanity was nearly wiped off this planet, and its clear that if we remain solely on this planet, we will likely face extinction once more. As such, you should focus on two things; one being the exploration and eventual colonization of space, and the second being the modernization of a human government.

Sacrifices will need to be made, yes. Everyone must contribute to the welfare of the Directorate if we are to survive and thrive. When Niijima-san and I rescued Singapore, we made it clear that there would be no room for those who were unwilling to work, to fight, to obey and make sacrifices. That being said, I refuse to allow us to become a ridiculous dystopia dreamt up by a hack writer. The government needs to be able to make difficult decisions, and democracy is out of the picture; at the same time, we cannot allow for a dictator to trample over us. A smart, targeted secret police to remove disturbed citizens is necessary, but when possible, try to address concerns that citizens may have. We must remain human after all...not meaning biologically...well yes biologically, but also....spiritually I guess you would say?

Let me put it like this; The Directorate is here to ensure technology serves mankind, not the other way around. Work with countries that eschew war, that look to the future; don't fall into the trap of neoliberalism and socialism. Both are paths that lead to nothing but worship of the dollar or the state respectively. Utopia may be out of reach for some time, and I likely will not achieve it....but perhaps you might? Or your children, or your children's children? As long as we do not give up hope though, we can ensure that humanity has a bright future....


Look at me, I'm rambling....my time is almost up. Be good Friedrich, I love you.

-Dr. Conrad Haus, Co-founder of the Niijima-Haus Directorate
 
Spying- the living room river, a balloon of nitrous oxide, and tiny caves with ears in them

My name is Cascatta. Today I am 19 years old; such is the power of introductory 5-year turns. I am a character from Tensei and set in the nation/group Intendência Verditas. I’ll be used for story-telling and to set a stage for the Verditas. Today I am visiting one of the senior ‘witches’ of the Verditas coven at her home.

When I knock, she opens the door herself, tall, wrinkled, completely hairless, she is some sort of pre-historic predatory bird. I almost expect her to squawk at me. Instead she smiles, and the avian impression melts away completely. Her eyes are kind and welcoming and I immediately feel I can trust her. I guess that’s what made her such a great master spy for so many years.

“Cascatta. Thank you for joining me at my home,” she says. Her voice is pitched lower and quieter than I had expected, matriarchal and comforting, and I, always the cynic, assume the tone is as crafted as her smile- a tool of her trade in secrets and loyalties.

“Thank you.” I say. I try for a mix of naivety and hope and give her a demure and anxious smile.

Suddenly the old bird laughs, guffawing loudly, completely breaking from her earlier matriarchal role. She wipes a tear from her eye and throw a long arm (I notice it is covered in extensive burn scars) around me. Still chuckling she speaks loudly to the air, “Oh yes- you will do perfectly.” She spins on a heel, agile despite her age and lanky limbs and looks directly into my eyes. “I can tell I will like you already.”

I don’t know her name but everyone calls her Cegonha and I call her this too. Cegonha’s home is on the 7th floor of one of the older Asilo trees (they aren’t really trees though are they?). I remember seeing the ‘building’ when I was a six-year old child planting similar Asilo seeds. That was thirteen years ago and back then there were only three floors. Her home, like most Asilo homes has uneven floors and walls, much of it made up of a honeycomb like structure not unlike coral. Soft mosses and minute trailing plants grow from the crevices in the wall and there is a small stream running through the central area of the home over which she has had built a low table suitable for kneeling to have a meal. Its pseudo-Japanese like that but it really its own thing too.

For whatever reason she seems more comfortable now and her demeanor changes, she appears more open and less deliberate. There is a frenzied energy to her movements, to her walk and pointing. Despite this she is also languid and graceful. There is a story there but I don't even know where to begin imagining. She leads me back to the table and a synthetic wood-hybrid floor. While it looks like polished birch planks it feels much softer and more cushiony- definitely very comfortable and suitable for stretching out on. She plops down on the floor extending her long legs and throws her bare feet into the stream with an unceremonious splash. She nods with her chin and turns to reach for something behind her. Its hot outside and despite the coolness of the Asilo home, I would appreciate a soak. Following her lead, I unwrap my boots, the ‘living’ ribbons twisting in my hands as I pull them from my feet. Much more deliberately than she, I extend my toes into the water.

Cegonha is reaching for a small clear baloon filled with some gas and she offers it to me. I’m not sure how I feel about sucking nitrous with one of the veteran heroes of the metacorp wars. Then decide to just flow with it. “Thanks,” I mumble as I take the balloon and draw the gas into my lungs. I pass it back to her, holding my breath and she takes a mighty draw, emptying the bag in one go. We both hold our breaths, staring at each other, almost daring the other to exhale first. We both exhale sharply at the same time and immediately break into laughter.

I try for seriousness, “This is definitely not what I expected.”

Shes smiling widely but somehow not giggling- tolerance maybe? “Honestly you aren’t what I expect either. But do you know why I asked for you?” she adds, stretching her long limbs like the bird she is named after, revealing more scars in the process.

“I can guess,” she nods, happy to wait, reaching for the nitrous nozzle that is behind a cushion as she does. I decide to be direct, “You want a spy.”

She nods again but says nothing. She’s smiling and I don’t know if it’s the nitrous or if she’s pleased with my answer. She passes me the refilled balloon and I take a smaller huff. Holding my breath, I pass it back to her. She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry and holds it in her long fingers, pinching it shut as she turns to me and continues. “Yes. I need a spy. I need many spies. But someone,” her eyes twinkle mischievously, “suggested you might be well suited.”

I nod and she says nothing, smiling wildly and marveling at all the flowers growing out of the walls and the long vines running over the wooden furniture. I can tell she lives here by herself. No man. No kids. This is her haven, her comfort. The refraction of the water throws my toes off somewhat and I giggle at their strange appearance.

She decides to continue, still holding the balloon, “Languages, quiet, perceptive, you like the fine arts and drama. You paint, photograph, and act in plays, both street theater and more formal roles. Your grades are excellent but not exceptional and you are obviously beautiful. So are you?”

I lean back on the soft birch wood-like floors and look up at the ceiling. It too is uneven and dotted with miniature caves. I wonder if there are microphones in those little mouths. Ears in mouths. I giggle. I pull myself up and look back at the old ‘witch’, “Am I? Suited?”

She can’t answer; she is inhaling from the balloon. Greedy old bird she fills her lungs all up and mostly empties the balloon again. She nods, her lips pursed tight as she holds in the nitrous for a second before exhaling it explosively through her nose.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I’ve never known any spies.”

She extends an old gnarled finger at me and she is smiling as widely as I have ever seen anyone smiling. She giggles incoherently and I cannot make out what she is saying. Finally she looks serious for a moment, or a least like someone trying to look serious when they have to, “Maybe you don’t know if you are suited. Yet. But maybe you know if you are interested.”

I do. I am. I shrug, “Yeah- lets do it. I’ll be your spy.”
 
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The United Nations of Earth is glad that all parties have come to a peaceful compromise in Tunisia. We hope that all other crisises of this matter can be resolved peacefully.
 
Big thanks to Seon, Reus, and jackel for the links to their stuff. If anyone else wants their writing in the second posts glossary, either post a list of your stuff in the thread or PM it to me.
 
@Decamper apologies for being AFK. I've been busy in 'real life' including starting a new job. I'm back with the DTO, will have orders for the final intro turn!!

@Bair_the_Normal @Nuka-sama

From: Dunedin Treaty Organisation
To: Republic of Vietnam, Nijima-Haus Directorate


We are deeply troubled by the political and military divides that are appearing on mainland Australia. This is a guarantee of future conflicts in the south-pacific region.

The DTO desires peace. We ask our neighbours to consider a One-Australia option; a stable, independent and unified Mainland Australia in which we can all share equal influence and trade benefits.

Further, we are prepared to compensate Nijima-Haus with [1 point?] for the removal of their forces from Western Australia.

We await your response. - DTO
 
The Sanctuary Republics and the Czech Republic has been accepted into GDTDG. The Dominion of India has become a Military Associate Member.
 
20-3-59 (Part 2)

'Wait mom, you said Amita was my Grandmother but what about your mother and father? Where were they or what happened to them?'

'Amita became your Grandmother after you were born and I will explain. This was 2030 so about this time the world situation was beginning to fall apart. The economy was starting to suffer from the drop in trade and my parents had fewer students. Countries were no longer issuing visas and people from abroad were returning or being expelled. Mom and dad tried to keep things afloat, dad drove a school bus and mom and I tutored people. Mom's health began to suffer, she was not eating much and became depressed. Her parents' were gone and her older sister was in America and her younger brother was in Canada. When the communication networks started to fall apart the last windows outside of India were being closed to her. It was like an electronic version of the Purdah that you would see in some of the more conservative countries. Dad parents had also passed away.

Dad and I tried to do all we could for her, we took her to doctors but she just continued to struggle. I think she kept going just to see me graduate University, she did not want me to disappear behind the Purdah. Both mom and dad made sure I attended school and paid my fees. I also worked to support my education. What my parents did not count on was meeting your father. I met him at a protest march against the Emergency. I knew Lochan from my classes but I never talked to him. I thought he was the typical boy who liked to brag and just coast through classes. When our march was attacked by some fundamentalists he led a group to protect us. He even shielded me when the police arrived and started beating everyone in sight. He was taken to the hospital and my parents and I went to visit him. That is when I met his parents. Maybe it is a secret power that parents have but all of them saw the connections between us. Mom and I visited with them and I was allowed to spend time alone with him. You could see the change in mom and dad, it was like seeing the sun emerge from behind the clouds. Despite all the struggles and terror love still bloomed.

Your father was a musician but took up computers as part of his music and to earn a living. His parents were more conservative than mine but since he was the boy, well, he could do no wrong. He could have abused it but he did not. We were respectful and our parents agreed to postpone our marriage until I graduated. When I graduated in 2037 I was married a month later. Within six months my mother passed away but she was at peace, she had secured my future. Dad remained a widower and stayed with Lochan and me until 2039 when he died, I think he missed mom. He knew you were coming however and he was so happy.

Then the accident happened and your father.....your father....please...stop now, please.
 
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