Thursday, February 28, 2013

And The Winner of the Balkanize Me Contest is...

Our second contest, Balkanize Me, has officially come to an end. Although we had less entries than our last writing contest, thankfully the quality of entries did not change. Here is the complete list of submissions in the order they appeared:

Excerpt from Modern History of Oklahoma and Sequoyah, 1890-Present by Zach Anderson

Body Impolitic by Thespitron 6000

January 4, 1815 - New England Secedes by Jeff Provine

Il Sogno della Patria by Dimas Aditya Hanandito

The More Things Change: A Tale of the Aether Age by Grant Gardiner

The range of writing styles for an average alternate historian is quite evident in this contest. I was especially tickled by the humorous entries The Update received. All good things, however, must come to an end. Only one can be crowned the winner and his name is...

DIMAS ADITYA HANANDITO

Congrats Dimas, you will be receiving a blu-ray copy of Iron Sky. Your short story about a divided Italy secured the most page views overall, with Jeff's outline for a balkanized America and Thespitron 6000's parody of the trope coming in second and third place respectively.

Thank you to everyone for participating and stay tuned tomorrow for a special announcement regarding the future of submitting to The Update.

* * *

Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The More Things Change: A Tale of the Aether Age by Grant Gardiner

The 1920s. A new town full of gambling saloons, far from the nearest zeppelin freight way. In the region that was once known as ‘Nevada’.
The thundering beat of hooves broke into messy disarray as he hauled up in front of the State of the Union saloon. By the time Shotgun had cantered to a halt the sheriff was out of the saddle, on the ground and tying the colt off on the veranda handrail. “This had better be good, Mister Burnham.” He swept around the black sedan his depu... associates used to get around town, then he started taking the steps two at a time. “It’s the Lord’s Day. And my little girl’s fifteenth birthday. If this ain’t worthy of the sheriff’s presence I’ll be mighty unhappy.”

Standing at the saloon’s front door was ‘Mister Burnham’ and his offsider ‘Mister Cerano’. Both were built like brick outhouses but clad in pinstriped black with matching gray fedoras. Apparently because that’s how Chicago manufactured its ‘accountancy officials’.

“Yeah, sheriff,” replied Burnham as the Texan reached the top of the stairs. “It’s a proper mess in there. And you told us we weren’t supposed to, you know, take things into our own hands no more, so...”

The sheriff halted just outside the doorway to look at the gangster. The shrug the hulking mobster gave was pitiful but the Tommy guns both ‘accountancy officials’ carried were anything but. “You did the right thing, Mister Burnham.” He took one more worried look at the submachine gun in the huge catcher’s mitt Burnham called his hand. “You did the right thing.”

There was a riot of yelling, crashing and cussing pouring out of the saloon. It was punctuated with a steady beat of smashing bottles. But no firearm discharges. Which meant, by city law, they couldn’t just haul them down to lockup for the night.

The sheriff growled as he looked in on the carnage. It didn’t make things any better that he was actually needed this time. “Is Mister Wong safe?”

The gangster nodded.

“Is he pressing charges?”

There was a pause and the sheriff tore his eyes away from the still developing crime scene. Burnham was looking at him, one eyebrow cocked high. “What you reckon Mister Wong is doing?”

The sheriff grunted. Of course Mister Wong was pressing charges. Not pressing charges would only save the sheriff’s time. And who cared about the sheriff’s time?

The middle aged Texan nodded and dragged his open duster back from the vintage Peacemakers holstered at his waist. Behind him the two gangsters cocked their Thompsons then followed in his wake as he pushed through the swinging doors and into the saloon...

•••

“You’re a damn liar, you Hollywoodland stooge. From a nation of liars.” The diminutive little flapper in the tassled dress stood to her feet. “A no good phony- -“ She heaved a bottle the length of the saloon. “From amongst a herd of no good phonies!”

The bottle shattered against the piano, spraying gin and glass everywhere. “Ha hah!” cried the ruffled but sharply dressed gent taking shelter behind it. He straightened in triumph, reefing his now ruined green cravat from his once expensive gray suit to hold it high in victory. “So you admit that the great nation of CaliModerna is, indeed, a nation.”

He ducked with a squawk as several more bottle rained down upon his position.

“It’s sarcasm, you ninny!” yelled the infuriated flapper as she picked up another bottle. “California isn’t a country. No matter what you name it.” She threw the tiny gin bottle with next to no accuracy. “Just cause a propaganda film says you’re a country, don’t make it so!”

A tall but paunchy gentleman was sheltering behind some tables in another quarter of the saloon. He was dressed like a southern landowner, his crushed top hat in one hand and monocle hanging from his waistcoat. But he too picked up a bottle and launched it in the direction of the bar the flapper ducked behind. “My de’ar, your hypocrisy is unbecoming.” The bottle shattered across the bar to get a squeal from the flapper. He smiled wickedly. “If anyone should be silent about propaganda it’s residents of the state that claims to rule the so-called U-nited States of A-meri-ca.” He cackled with delight. “Even an unso-phis-ticated New Yor’k hussey like you should know that recent history proves thinking you run the continent don’t make it so.”

A chair leg rotored past the startled southerner, sending him back behind cover. “Better them then you,” called a French voice. It’s owner stood up from behind a beer barrel in the corner. He was dressed in cowboy denims and boots but wore a leather flight jacket, flying cap tucked into his back pocket. “New York is better than New Confederacy any day.” And the cowboy launched another chair leg.

“Yeah!” agreed the flapper, standing as the dark-skinned cowboy launched his last chair leg and a bottle at the Confederate. “He’s right. You could do a lot worse than us. If you’d only- -”

She ducked just in time to avoid a new delivery from the Californian, but in the background the cowboy began laughing uproariously. His latest bottle had caught the southerner’s top hat and sent it skittling. It’s owner, now covered in gin, retreated to a better defensive position while the cowboy cackled and slapped his knee. Then he stopped, spying someone cowering under a table on the other side of the room.

He pointed out the stranger as the latest salvo from the bar sailed past towards the piano. “Hey you. You never declared yourself. Where you from, son?”

Wide-eyed, the stranger held his hands up. “You can leave me out of this. I’m not American, I’m Canadian.”

Canadian!?!” A stocky, older woman in a weathered poncho stood up behind the flapper’s bar. Her face was a picture of rage. “You said you were from Seattle.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. I’m Canadian.”

The old woman swept back her wide brimmed hat to let it dangle by the cord around her neck. She completely ignored the bottle that sailed past her head to smash on the wall behind the bar. Instead, she only had dagger-eyes for the neutral-wannabe from Seattle.

A pointed finger slowly rose towards him with the gravitas of an oracle’s threat. “You... are American.”

The ‘American’ cringed as another bottle landed in his general vicinity. “No I’m not. I’m a citizen of the British Empire. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The old woman’s face went a deep crimson. “No. You’re. Not!” She turned to grab several bottles from the back of the bar. Then, with no regard to her own safety, she stood free of all protection, laying down glassware cover-fire on the hapless British-American. “You are American!” she bellowed. “You. Are. American!”

Seeing the American/Canadian suffering under the withering fire, the cowboy started laughing again in deep guffaws. He slapped his thigh several times, really getting into the comedy- -

Then stopped. The bottles were no longer flying...

His eyes panned right to see the old woman now pointing at him.

“You’re just as bad,” scowled the stocky, hard faced poncho wearer. “You’re worse, you so-called Mississippian.” She pointed again. “You think you’re French!”

The cowboy dived back behind cover as a chorus of ‘hear hears’ from across the room preceded a fresh storm of weaponised alcohol vessels, even the Canadian/American getting in on the act...

•••

From his viewing platform two steps above the carnage the goatee-stroking sheriff shook his head. He drew a Peacemaker and pointed it at the ceiling.

BLAM!BLAM!

•••

Silence reigned over the bar.

The sheriff stepped forward, spurs clinking loudly in the silence. “For the sake of full disclosure,” he drawled, “my associates here are from Chicago. That means they’re nationals of the MidWest Commonwealth.” He gestured behind to Burnham and Cerano who stepped forward, Tommy guns raised from their hips. “Y’all have a problem with them?”

The room was transfixed by the stubby submachine guns.

The sheriff left the gangsters near the doorway, slowly stepping down onto the landing that ran around the main room of the saloon. “What about me then? Anyone offended by my nationality? Cause I ain’t from around here either.”

There was silence as the sheriff pulled up at the top of the two steps leading down to the saloon floor. He scowled at the sea of broken furniture and the glass carnage that spread across the trashed establishment. He reached down to his belt, unclipped his star and held it up for all to see. “This here makes me the Law in these parts. And the Law is from Texas.” He lowered the star and glared at his scattered, bashful audience.

“Any objections to the Lone Star republic?”

There was utter silence.

“Good. Now let’s find out how this whole mess got started, shall we?”

•••

The sheriff had long since resigned himself to the idea that his duty in this town was not to its people. He was hired to protect the businesses of this quickly sprawling warren of saloons and gambling dens and anything else was his own side project. However, only being held to ‘commercial realities’ didn’t make his job any easier.

It took a good quarter hour to calm Mister Wong enough to get his version of the story. A full fifteen minutes. And in the end it wasn’t much of a story anyway: the details were missing but everyone was playing cards, someone apparently went in big – or lost the pot or their shirt or something – and the result was bad tempers and hurt feelings. Enough bad tempers and feelings to re-enact the Great War in the middle of the saloon.

Having performed his commercial duty – reassuring Mister Wong that compensation was forthcoming – the sheriff hurried out of the Union’s back room to get back to the saloon floor. He had been occupied for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in which his associates were left to their own mob-sourced devices. With nothing more than the vague, ill-conceived and now deeply regretted instructions to “Sort out this lot and... Tarnation, I don’t know. Get these fools squared away. Take their statements or something.”

Bursting through the swinging doors the sheriff stopped to find... a quiet and orderly crime scene. All of the suspects were tied to chairs that had been arrayed in a big circle covering the main floor. Most of the wrecked furniture and glass had been swept over to the piano while Mister Cerano held point in the middle of the circle with his Tommy gun, casually scanning each of his wards like a well practised jail warden. Mister Burnham walked towards the sheriff with a pencil in one hand, notepad in the other. Tongue between his teeth, he made a final note and nodded with satisfaction. Then he flipped over the pages and handed the pad to the sheriff.

The sheriff took the notepad and examined the top, scrawl-covered page. “What’s this?”

“Their statements,” replied Burnham. “One page per perp. Dunno what usually goes into a statement so’s I figured I’d just ask ‘em what I thought would be, you know... relevant.”

The sheriff looked at the blank faced mobster and blinked twice. Then he had a closer look at the collection of documents.

Running his finger down the first rap sheet he grunted his surprise. The report was not what he expected. It was actually quite good. Very good. A thorough run down of every suspect, a brief description of what they looked like, their occupation, what they were doing when the brawl erupted and their personal details. He nodded slowly as he continued his perusal. “This is quite the report, Mister Burnham. Quite the report indeed.”

The big brute sniffed and looked at his feet. “Ain’t no need to pay your respects.” He stuck the pencil behind his ear, then reached over to a table to pick up his Tommy gun. “It’s a new fangled scientific world,” he shrugged as he hefted the submachine gun onto his shoulder. “Even an everyday mug like meself has to know his letters these days.” There was a shy pause. “But you can pay respects if you want.”

The sheriff continued skimming the document taking in all the details. “I can be quick to step forward, Mister Burnham. So I’m gonna be just as quick to step back. I apologise for lettin’ your other employment make me overlook your skillset and promise that in future- -” The sheriff’s finger reached the bottom of the page and the entry for ‘Nationality.’ It was heavily underlined. He flipped through a few pages and noted the entry for each suspect. The sheriff swore, let the notepad drop back and began rubbing his eyes. “What was Wong thinking? He should have known this was going to happen.”

“You saw the nationality thing?” asked proud Burnham, the useful gangster. “I thought you might wanna see that.  I thought it explained a few things.”

The sheriff nodded drily at the lettered gangster then threw the notepad onto the counter beside him. “Indeed,” he grumbled, then looked over the circle of former fellow citizens and shook his head. “Damn bless-ed politics is gonna be the end o’ me...”

The weathered Texan dug his thumbs into his gun holsters, chewed his bottom lip for a few seconds, then paced slowly towards the silent circle. He nodded at Mister Cereno who nodded back and stepped away to give him the floor.

The sheriff reached the middle of the circle and stopped. He began to turn, idly staring down anyone game enough to meet his eyes. He twitched his big moustache back and forth as he considered every one of them in turn.

Tying them to chairs was a bit extreme, but he had to admit it did engender a conducive interrogation environment. No doubt a trick his associates picked up back in Chicago...

His eyes came to rest on the sharply dressed man in the expensive but torn gray suit. He was the one Mister Burnham’s report had dubbed ‘Tuxedo Stooge’. The one from California. The sheriff knew enough about the picture business to recognise the man’s face. Couldn’t tell you who he was, but there was a good chance his little girl had an irrational crush on the quivering mess that cowered before him. Him and his ridiculously thin moustache.

“Well?” the sheriff demanded, scratching at the thick goatee that squared off his own chin. “The saloon you people have been destroying is an institution in these here parts. That makes it expensive. Worth a lot to a lot of people.” He stepped forward to look down at the quickly wilting thespian. “So the question I want answered is this: Who’s responsible for this mess?”

“Well it isn’t me,” whined the Californian. Without taking his eyes off the sheriff he tried to point, only to realise his hands were tied behind his back. There was a wide-eyed pause, then he pecked his nose in the direction of the flapper on the opposite side of the circle. “Ask her. She’s the one doing all the screaming.”

Screaming!?! Why you no good, lyin- -”

The sheriff turned with a glare. The New Yorker’s mouth quickly snapped shut and she looked away.
The sheriff straightened and paced toward her. “From what my associate has noted, you were winning the pot, so you had the most to lose after a bad hand. Did you start the fight?”

“It wasn’t me,” she whined as he drew close. “Talk to the people who were leaving. I was winning and then they all started to leave.” Now she began pecking her nose back at the Californian. “He’s the suspicious one. He was leaving the game. Saying I was rigging the game and everything. Why dontcha go back to being in his grill?”

The sheriff turned back to look at the actor. He was vigorously shaking his head. “I may have been suggesting that I was going to leave but that doesn’t mean I was actually going to. Doesn’t mean anything of the sort. I was staying in the game. Until that crazy dame had lost every single dime.” He tried to lean out around the sheriff to get a line of sight on the flapper. “Then I’d be making you admit the greatness of- -“ He paused, as if waiting for a camera to dolly in for his close-up. “The continent’s Premier RepublicCaliModerna!”

“Oooooo,” wound up the flapper. “I’m gonna snot you, ya- -“

“Silence,” growled the sheriff. He turned back to the actor. “My notes say you were almost out of chips. You were about to be kicked out of the game and lose your only chance for revenge.”

The actor shook his head furiously. “Oh no. I have a line of credit. Just ask Mister Cerano. I have a line of credit from... some people in Chicago. They pay my way here. You just ask.”

The sheriff glanced over at Cerano who shrugged then nodded. “He’s got credit.”

The sheriff sighed. “Then who else was about to lose their shirt? How about you?” He looked at the short stocky woman who was still glaring at the American/Canadian. “You seem to have an axe to grind. You decide to start a fight? My associate believes that you happen to be a zeppelin pilot of some infamy.” He raised his eyebrows. “That was him being polite. In Texas we call you people skypirates. An’ that title carries with it a certain brand of behaviour.”

The stocky skypirate glared back as good as she got. “I answer to the Law the same as you.” She drew to her full, stumpy height. “I answer to the almighty Constitution of the United States of America, the once and future Law of this wayward nation. And it states that I’m well within my rights to protect my interests in my own way, whether on the ground or in the sky.” She scowled. “And I didn’t start no fight. Didn’t start no fight at all. I was the only one hell bent on staying in the game.” She crooked her head in the direction of the flapper. “Me and Miss No Self Respect here.”

“Heeey!” scowled the flapper.

“I wanted to play on. But these here cowards started retreating. Giving up ground. They gave up they did. Threw in the towel and let the ridiculous sequined monster here- -“

“Heeey!”

“- - take all the money. I was staying in and taking what was rightfully mine. Why don’t you ask the cowards? Ask him!” She practically jerked herself out of her seat, pecking at the American/Canadian. “He was the first one to quit. Ask him!”

The sheriff crossed his arms and looked in ‘his’ direction.

“Wasn’t me,” retorted the subject of the old woman’s scorn.

“Sure it was you,” the skypirate replied. “You’ve got no spine, retreating like that. And it makes perfect sense now. It’s the sort of behaviour I’d expect from someone who crawled back into the enslavement and interference of the King of England. You’re a coward and I’m ashamed to have sat at the same table as ya.”

The proud citizen of the Empire sneered back. “Tell me this, American. Who’s been interfering with your drinking habits – the King of England or American politicians and your beloved and now defunct constitution?” He turned to the sheriff. “I peacefully quit the game because the stakes were no longer friendly.” He looked back at the proud American. “Then I enjoyed a custom legally available to citizens of the civilised world – a drink of beer from the bar!” Once more he turned back to the sheriff. “Just ask the barman.”

The sheriff’s crossed arms clenched tighter. This was getting ridiculous.

A polite but officious cough from behind drew his attention. It was the Confederate. “Excuse me, sah. Like all Confederate gentlemen,” he gave the sheriff a conspiratorial wink, “I appreciate the need to maintain these he’re appearances,” he looked at his bound arms. “But now the preliminaries have been processed I do believe we are avoiding the, uh, elephant in our midst. Forgetting the... other element in the roo’m.” With this he began to not-so-subtly crook his balding head in the direction of the cowboy to his distant right.
The cowboy glared back at him. “Oh, so now you’re being subtle about it, are you?”

The proud Imperial across the circle nodded his head slowly, eyes screwed up in suspicion. “He is French...”
The Confederate, ignoring the cowboy altogether, frowned at the Canadian. “Not exactly the thrust of my argument, sah. There are... other- -“

“What’s wrong with the French?” squawked the flapper.

“They’re French!” cried both the skypirate and Canadian in unison.

The Californian shrugged and nodded, as if conceding the point. “They have a point- -”

“It’s really not what I was saying- -“

“Well I know what you’re saying about me and if there weren’t no sheriff here- -“

“If you hate the French you hate Paris and there ain’t nothing wrong with anything from Paris- -“

“You are all completely missing my point- -“

“Oh, I’m gettin’ your point loud and clear, you- -“

BLAM!BLAM!

In the renewed silence the sheriff glared at as many people as he possibly could. “Silence.” He holstered the Peacemaker again and pointed to the Confederate. “Were you playing cards?”

The Confederate smiled. “Indeed I was, sah. And losing the shirt off my back.” He feigned laughter. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

The sheriff nodded and pointed to the cowboy. “Well that makes him innocent, then.”

The Confederate scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘It makes him innocent’? How is that a deduction of the... suspects innocence?”

The sheriff folded his arms again. “Cause I know that the fight was started by someone playing cards.” He leaned in closer. “You wouldn’t be playing cards if he was playing cards. So if you were playing, he wasn’t, which makes him innocent.” The sheriff looked to Burnham. “I’m assuming you came to the same conclusion Mister Burnham. That would be why you didn’t tie him up..?”

The Confederate’s neck snapped around to see the cowboy smiling at him with delight, reaching his arms forward to reveal that he was not, in fact, tied to his chair. He was only spectating.

Meanwhile, Burnham nodded his head with pride. So vigorously it almost became a curtsy. “I figured he weren’t responsible. But he was participatin’ so I told him he had to wait around.”

The sheriff nodded his agreement and Burnham practically blushed from the complement. The sheriff turned to the now outraged southerner. “Our mutual friend from Louisiana didn’t start this fight. His participation was just... self defense. Although he certainly didn’t help matters and will be paying his fair share of damages.”

The Confederate couldn’t help taking another look at the cowboy who just grinned back at his still gin-soaked accuser, giving a hopeless shrug. “What else could I do? You were charging right at me.” Then he snorted and guffawed as the southerner went red with rage.

The sheriff growled with impatience. “That still leaves you, sir. And my pool of suspects is getting shallow.”

The Confederate spluttered with rage. “Me? Me!? How dare you, sah. How dare you? Why, if you weren’t a member of law enforcement it would be my place to duel you, sah. How dare you besmirch my honour as a gentleman.”

“That’s right,” chimed in the Californian. “You realise how damaging these baseless accusations can be to someone’s reputation? And some of us have more to lose than others. Some of us are beholden to our reputation.”

“And not much more,” scowled the skypirate.

The Confederate, not hearing, nodded profusely with his newfound ally. “Indeed. At least there is one other gentlemen of honour among this den of scallywags.”

The Californian nodded with finality. “There’s careers at stake and I don’t like the tone of this investigation. Especially without my lawyers present.”

The sheriff tried to control himself in the face of the vigorously nodding Confederate and the defiant poise of the stupidly moustached Californian. But he was very near his limit- -

“Yeees,” scowled the skypirate. “Now I see.” She was looking at the now worried Californian. “You’re avoiding the subject. Diverting, you are. Exactly the sort of behaviour I’d expect from someone so casually flippant with someone elses money. Your use of debt as a crutch should have been my first clue...”

“There is nothing wrong with living in debt. It’s a fundamental plank of the capitalist system and one which the Republic of CaliModerna whole heartedly embraces and- -“

He ground to a halt as his eyes met the horrified visage of his once strong ally, the Confederate.

The Confederate sputtered until he could find his voice. “But, but... That means you’re a...” He shook off his confusion, his face now a picture of affronted indignation. “You, sah, are a Democrat!”

The Californian smiled. “Of course I am.” His face suddenly dropped. “You’re not?”

“No!” was the indignant response.

“Ah-hah!” cried the skypirate. “We have you now. You are guilty! You are the one who has caused this mess!”

“Waitaminute!” exclaimed the flapper. “Bein’ a Democrat don’t make you guilty. In fact it’s the opposite. Only a Republican would have the audacity to illegally rig the game when they were about to lose everything.”

Suddenly the room was filled with indignant voices as everyone argued back and forth. The sheriff began to furiously rub his eyes as the noise rose to a cacophony.

The Confederate began to shunt his chair across the floor in a bid to get as far away from the Californian as he possibly could. “I will not associate,” he grunted, “With the likes of you- -“ grunt, “My good sah- -“ grunt.

As his chair squeaked and squawked its way across the room and people continued to shout, the flapper noted the Confederate’s progress toward her position and began to shunt her own chair forward. “Well if you’re comin’ over here then I’m goin’ over there cause I don’t want nothin’ to do with- -“

As the two chair tied objectors passed each other crossing the floor the skypirate shuffled closer to the bar in order to make sure she wasn’t further to the other side while the cowboy saw what was happening and presently stood up and wandered over to the bar behind the skypirate.

“What are you doing?” exclaimed the flapper, barely able to look back at him.

He relaxed back against the bar. “I’m a big believer in a government’s responsibility to  stay out of the way of its citizens.”

The flapper gasped in amazement and continued her dog shuffle across to the Californian who was still yelling abuse at the skypirate while the Confederate finally made his way to where the flapper had previously been and began to shuffle around to face the right way. The two gangsters looked at each other then... went in opposite directions, both in shock that the other had not followed their lead. They took their place on either side of the circle and eyed each other suspiciously as everyone began arguing about which side of the room the confused Canadian should cross to- -

“I’ve had enough!” bellowed the sheriff. He stalked across the circle, up the stairs and towards the front door of the saloon.

Burnham looked at him in shock, as the room’s arguments came to an uneven halt. “Where are you goin’, sheriff?”

“I’m going home!”

“But...” The gangster indicated the confused circle of armchair politics-afficiandos staring after the sheriff. “What do we do with them?”

“I’m from Texas,” the sheriff bellowed over his shoulder in the renewed silence. “Do whatever you want to do. I don’t care!” He pushed on the swinging doors. “I really don’t care any more!”

•••

In the following silence the gangsters both looked at each other. Then, along with everyone else in the room, stared at the swinging doors the sheriff had disappeared through. In the distance was the retreating sound of hoof beats.

Burnham looked at Cerano. Cerano shrugged. He nodded and looked around at the circle of people tied to their chairs. His eyes came to rest on the flapper – the one who had been winning the card game. He raised his Tommy gun. “Gimme your wallet.”

To a soundtrack of helpess protests, Burnham moved across the room to rifle through the Confederate’s jacket and ‘politely’ ask for the cowboys ‘spare change’.

* * *

Grant Gardiner is a new author fascinated with the pulp-ier side of life. He writes adventure and gangster noir stories set in an alternate timeline 1920s America of his own creation, one in which the United States is not so united any more. This alternate world he has dubbed The Aether Age and it has allowed him to indulge his obsession with all things pulp, Dieselpunk, superhero, action/adventure, and anything to do with pop culture in the 20s and 30s.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

New Releases 2/26/13

Hardcover

The Mongoliad: Book Three by Neal Stephenson,  Erik Bear, Greg Bear, Joseph Brassey, Nicole Galland, Cooper Moo, Mark Teppo and Mike Grell

Description from Amazon.

This handsome hardcover edition of The Mongoliad: Book Three features exquisite foil stamping, deckled edges, a ribbon marker, an illustrated character glossary, and a Foreworld map printed on the end- sheets. It also includes Seer: A Foreworld SideQuest. This short story was previously available only digitally and sets up characters and events in The Mongoliad.

The final book of the Mongoliad trilogy from Neal Stephenson and company tells the gripping personal stories of medieval freedom fighters to form an epic, imaginative recounting of a moment in history when a world in peril relied solely on the courage of its people.

The shadow of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II hangs over the shattered Holy Roman Church as the cardinals remain deadlocked, unable to choose a new pope. Only the Binders and a mad priest have a hope of uniting the Church against the invading Mongol host. An untested band of young warriors stands against the dissolute Khan, fighting for glory and freedom in the Khan’s sadistic circus of swords, and the brave band of Shield- Brethren who set out to stop the Mongol threat single-handedly race against their nemesis before he can raise the entire empire against them. Veteran knight Feronantus, haunted by his life in exile, leads the dwindling company of Shield-Brethren to their final battle, molding them into a team that will outlast him. No good hero lives forever. Or fights alone.

Paperbacks

Angels of Vengeance by John Birmingham

Description from Amazon.

When an inexplicable wave of energy slams into North America, the world is plunged into turmoil—as wars erupt, borders vanish, and the great and powerful fall.

Against this dramatic backdrop, three very different women navigate the chaos. Deep in a South American jungle, special agent Caitlin Monroe will stop at nothing to discover how a master terrorist escaped a secret detention center in French Guadeloupe to strike a fatal blow in New York City. Sofia Peiraro, a grieving teenager trying to rebuild her life in Kansas City, is drawn back to Texas by a vicious murder. And in the fashionable bars and boutiques of Darwin, the seething, growing freeport in Australia’s deep north, the British-born aristocrat-turned-smuggler Lady Julianne Balwyn hides a pistol in the small of her lovely back. She is hunting for the man who is hunting her. As these women fight for survival, justice, and revenge, humanity itself struggles toward its better angels—and to purge its worst demons.

Check out all of our reviews for the Wave trilogy (Without Warning, After America and Angels of Vengeance).

Any Day Now: A Novel by Terry Bison

Description from Amazon.

This tour de force, road movie of a novel is a poignant excursion into the last days of the Beats and the radicalized culture of the 1960s, from Kentucky to New York City and beyond. Written in a voice that is warmhearted and hauntingly original, Any Day Now is the story of Clay, a small-town boy whose future is all mapped out. It travels as far as an isolated New Mexico commune under threat from a national revolution, with Clay battling to find his place in the new America -- and hoping desperately to forget what happened back East with the girl he loved.

Bisson, whose prose brings to life this wild tale in the vein of Philip Roth's The Plot Against America, has written a transcendent commentary on America's civil liberties and the perils of growing up, then and now.

Gideon's Angel by Clifford Beal

Description from Amazon.

He came back to kill a tyrant. He found the Devil instead. An amazing historical novel with a supernatural twist set after the English Civil War. This is the stunning debut from Clifford Beal.

He came back to kill a tyrant. He found the Devil instead.

1653: The long and bloody English Civil War is at an end. King Charles is dead and Oliver Cromwell rules the land as king in all but name. Richard Treadwell, an exiled royalist officer and soldier-for-hire to the King of France and his all-powerful advisor, the wily Cardinal Mazarin, burns with revenge for those who deprived him of his family and fortune. He decides upon a self-appointed mission to return to England in secret and assassinate the new Lord Protector. Once back on English soil however, he learns that his is not the only plot in motion.

A secret army run by a deluded Puritan is bent on the same quest, guided by the Devil’s hand. When demonic entities are summoned, Treadwell finds himself in a desperate turnaround: he must save Cromwell to save England from a literal descent into Hell. But first he has to contend with a wife he left in Devon who believes she’s a widow, and a furious Paris mistress who has trailed him to England, jeopardising everything. Treadwell needs allies fast. Can he convince the man sent to forcibly drag him back to Cardinal Mazarin? A young king’s musketeer named d’Artagnan.

Black dogs and demons; religion and magic; Freemasons and Ranters. It’s a dangerous new Republic for an old cavalier coming home again.

London Darkness: War of the Devices by Christopher Stocking

Description from Amazon.

Fifteen years have passed since the events with Caiden and the forces of Partum Chaos transpired, and the League of Inventors is flourishing with Ryker and Adelina as Head Inventors. London's defenses are at peak performance, and all seems well for Ryker; his wife, Celia; and Lance, their fifteen-year-old son. But, when a mysterious Frenchman arrives with talks of impending war, American musicians in the forest, and strange automatons, Ryker must figure out who is his friend, and who is his foe in order to save what he has worked so hard to create.

Reality Check by Eric Garrison

Description from Amazon.

When a quantum supercomputer's "reality simulator" program causes temporary insanity in its beta-testers, Lee Green rolls up his sleeves and dives into a virtual world to debug the problem. Only he discovers that place is more real than anyone imagined. He finds alternate versions of his friends in that mad science reality, their lives and relationships very different from those in the "real" world. Quantum entanglements become romantic entanglements as he meets his love again in each new dimension. Lee must save these other lives, decide which destiny is truly his, and what he's willing to sacrifice to get there.

Secrets of the Fire Sea by Stephen Hunt

Description from Amazon.

The isolated island of Jago is the only home Hannah Conquest has ever known. But her carefree existence comes to an abrupt halt when her guardian, Archbishop Alice Grey, is brutally murdered. Someone desperately wants to suppress a secret kept by the archbishop, and if the attempts on Hannah's own life are any indication, the killer believes that Alice passed the knowledge to her ward before her head was separated from her neck.

Meanwhile, a deadly power struggle is brewing on Jago. And as Hannah digs deeper into the mystery Alice left behind, assisted by two rather different detectives, she must race to unravel a chain of ancient riddles in order to save not just her own life, but her island home itself!

Secrets of the Fire Sea is a rollicking tale of high adventure and derring-do set in Stephen Hunt’s Victorian-style clockwork world filled with steammen and aliens, fantastical creatures and dastardly villains…and some remarkable heroes that steampunk fans will cheer for.

E-books

Bully! by Mike Resnick

Description from Amazon.

In March 1909, Theodore Roosevelt went on a safari to central Africa. In this fictionalized account of that trip, Mike Resnick takes us on an amusing “what-if” with Roosevelt deciding to “liberate” the native Africans from Belgian rule and to set up a model democratic state in the heart of Africa.

Check out my review of the anthology The Other Teddy Roosevelts which contains this short story.

Seer by Mark Teppo

Description from Amazon.

When a merchant appears at the Catalonian chapter house of the Shield-Brethren, seeking to hire guards for his caravan, young Andreas is suspicious. Knights with his martial prowess are above protecting mere cargo wagons. Yet Andreas’s wanderlust outweighs his concern, and soon the group is headed to the merchant’s mountain village—and into great danger.

As the caravan approaches, a woman suffering from terrifying visions feverishly paints her latest revelation—in her own blood. The image horrifies her fellow villagers, who fear an imminent attack, or worse, the return of the brutal Inquisition. But when Andreas deciphers the painting’s true meaning, it may forever impact his wandering ways, his unspoken fears, and his very future with the Shield-Brethren.

Following Sinner and Dreamer, this Foreworld SideQuest reveals the painful truth that sometimes seeing what is to come is far worse than not knowing.

Audio

The Beast of Calatrava by Mark Teppo

Description from Amazon.

After a battle left Ramiro Ibáñez de Tolosa’s face terribly disfigured, the knight of the Order of Calatrava abandoned his sword for a pastoral existence. But his beastly appearance horrifies all those who cross his path — with the exception of his adoring and pregnant wife. Can he keep Louisa and their unborn child safe from the war that is coming to Iberia? As Ramiro prepares for his child’s birth, Brother Lazare of the Cistercian order searches for a means to inspire men as he travels with the crusading Templars. He seeks swords of legend — named blades carried by heroes of old — believing such symbols have the ability to rally men in a way no king could ever accomplish. But when he learns of the stories told of the mysterious monster that haunts the Iberian battlefields, he wonders what sort of power this new legend might contain — the legend of a man whose scarred face and cold demeanor cannot hide his heroic soul.

To fans, authors and publishers...

Do you want to see your work given a shout out on our New Releases segment? Contact Mitro at ahwupdate at gmail dot com.  We are looking for works of alternate history, counterfactual history, steampunk, historical fantasy, time travel or anything that warps history beyond our understanding.

* * *

Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Weekly Update #92

Editor's Note

Sorry for not posting a Weekly Update last week guys. For your troubles you get an extra loooonnnnnnnnnggggggg Weekly Update with a ton of nice and tasty links.

Not much else to report except to remind you all we are still accepting original fiction, essays and reviews dealing with the Balkanize Me trope of alternate history. The 27th is the last day I will post an entry. So far I haven't received any entries steampunk writing contest in March. I don't want to rush anybody, but if I do not start receiving some submissions soon I may have to cancel the contest.

Greetings to our first reader from Oman. Welcome and I hope you enjoy our coverage on alternate worlds.

And now the news...

Coming Soon: Gideon's Angel by Clifford Beal

A new novel has caught the attention of this alternate historian: Gideon's Angel by Clifford Beal. Set to be published tomorrow in the US/Canada and February 28th in the UK, here is the description from Amazon:
1653: The long and bloody English Civil War is at an end. King Charles is dead and Oliver Cromwell rules the land as king in all but name. Richard Treadwell, an exiled royalist officer and soldier-for-hire to the King of France and his all-powerful advisor, the wily Cardinal Mazarin, burns with revenge for those who deprived him of his family and fortune. He decides upon a self-appointed mission to return to England in secret and assassinate the new Lord Protector. Once back on English soil however, he learns that his is not the only plot in motion.
A secret army run by a deluded Puritan is bent on the same quest, guided by the Devil’s hand. When demonic entities are summoned, Treadwell finds himself in a desperate turnaround: he must save Cromwell to save England from a literal descent into Hell. But first he has to contend with a wife he left in Devon who believes she’s a widow, and a furious Paris mistress who has trailed him to England, jeopardising everything. Treadwell needs allies fast. Can he convince the man sent to forcibly drag him back to Cardinal Mazarin? A young king’s musketeer named d’Artagnan.
Black dogs and demons; religion and magic; Freemasons and Ranters. It’s a dangerous new Republic for an old cavalier coming home again.
Curious tale, but does it hold up against the critics? The Forgotten Geek at Geek Syndicate gave it a 3 out of 5 but did say that Gideon's Angel is "an enjoyable take on traditional historic horror with religious fantasy thrown in." Not exactly shining with praise, but I am still curious about the setting and the cast of characters. Those wanting to learn more can check out images and videos from the launch party and read Beal's essay titled Historical Fantasy: the pitfalls and pleasures of writing crossover fiction at The Qwillery.

Update: Chris Nuttall

Friend and contributor of The Update, Chris Nuttall, has been busy these last couple of weeks. His new novel Bookworm was recently published through Elsewhen Press and his novel Royal Sorceress came out in paperback (also published by Elsewhen). To promote this and his other novels (Chris is certainly a prolific writer) he has been touring the web with some interview. You can read his words at Amazing Stories and The Indie Spotlight. You can also check out Rome’s Last Citizen: The Life and Legacy of Cato, Mortal Enemy of Caesar, an article by Chris featuring the Roman statesman Cato.

From all of us at The Update, I want to congratulate Chris for his continued success and sincerely hope we hear even more about him in the future.

Update: The Afrika Reich by Guy Saville

Another friend of The Update, Guy Saville, has been celebrating the American edition of his novel The Afrika Reich. Here is the description from Amazon:
Africa, 1952. More than a decade has passed since Britain’s humiliation at Dunkirk brought an end to the war and the beginning of an uneasy peace with Hitler.
The swastika flies from the Sahara to the Indian Ocean. Britain and a victorious Nazi Germany have divided the continent. The SS has crushed the native populations and forced them into labor. Gleaming autobahns bisect the jungle, jet fighters patrol the skies. For almost a decade an uneasy peace has ensued.
Now, however, the plans of Walter Hochburg, messianic racist and architect of Nazi Africa, threaten Britain’s ailing colonies.
Sent to curb his ambitions is Burton Cole: a one-time assassin torn between the woman he loves and settling an old score with Hochburg. If he fails unimaginable horrors will be unleashed on the continent. No one – black or white – will be spared.
But when his mission turns to disaster, Burton must flee for his life.
It is a flight that will take him from the unholy ground of Kongo to SS slave camps to war-torn Angola – and finally a conspiracy that leads to the dark heart of The Afrika Reich itself.
Gavriel Rosenfeld, author of The World Hitler Never Made: Alternate History and the Memory of Nazism, reviewed the novel for The Jewish Daily Forward. While spending most of the article discussing historical and political subtext he concluded his review by calling it "an imaginative and entertaining journey through a nightmarish world that never was." It has to be nice when one alternate historian praises another.

If you would like a sneak peak at The Afrika Reich then read the excerpt posted on Tor.com.

Portlandia Goes Steampunk

Never watched Portlandia before, but I might have to check out a couple of episodes now. The satirical sketch comedy show, set and filmed in Portland, OR and starring Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein has gone steampunk. The sub-culture was skewered in a recent sketch which you can see a clip below:
So far reaction seems positive. Matt Staggs at SUVUDU called it "a parody with love" and real members of the Rose City Steampunk Society did star in the show. Still its only IFC, but in the future steampunk might penetrate basic cable or even network television.

Submissions Wanted

So good news and bad news for aspiring authors out there.

First the bad news: Nightmare Magazine will be temporarily closed for submissions. Don't worry, you won't have to wait long. They plan to reopen on May 15, 2013.

In the meantime if you have a horror related work you need to publish check out Dark Moon Books who are looking for young adult horror stories. Deadline is April 15 and entries should be between 500 to 4000 words. Also if your story is a tad Lovecraftian, might I recommend this helpful list of magazins and publishers who may be in the need of some good mythos tales or just weird fiction in general.

As always good luck...and don't worry if you hear something go bump in the night. It is probably just your subconscious helping you craft a new horror story and certainly some demonic hell beast coming to steal your soul.

Things to do

Bored? You shouldn't be. Another universe is just next door:

March 2 to April 14: The Ipswich Art Gallery (Ipswich, Australia) will host a high tea to open a steampunk art gallery.

May 3-5: H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival & CthulhuCon in Portland, OR...but wait! You have to kickstart it first.

May 17-19: 2013 Steampunk World's Fair at Piscataway, NJ.

Also I need to post more reviews from guests at these cons and events. Like the one our own Junior Editor Jake posted about his visit to this year's AnachroCon. He even met author and contributor to The Update, Matthew Quinn. I love it when alternate historians network, there are so few of us to begin with. Let us hope Jake's mention of podcast is more than just idle speculation...

Links to the Multiverse

Articles

6 Famous Things From History That Didn't Actually Exist by Matt Martin and Paige Turner at Cracked.

An ‘alternative universe’ will eventually destroy ours, says Higgs researcher by George Dvorsky at io9.

Clockwork Mafia Cover Reveal by Suzanne Lazear at Steamed!

Cover Reveal - ODD MEN OUT by TK Toppin.

February 19, 1942: On this day in history, Nazi Germany launched it's only successful invasion of North America. Sort of... at Doctor Grumpy in the House.

The Future of Slavery Sans Civil War: Counterfactual Ponderings by Brooks D. Simpson at Crossroads.

How the Nazis Tried to Bomb New York by Ron Miller at io9.

Is this period? by Cindy Spencer Pape at Steamed!

The Mongoliad: Book Three (Excerpt) by Neal Stephenson, Greg Bear, Mark Teppo, Nicole Galland, Erik Bear, Joseph Brassey and Cooper Moo at Tor.

On Bill Carmody, Alternate Histories, and Dumb Luck by Loretta8 at SB Nation.

Physicists discover what a multiverse might really be like by Esther Inglis-Arkell at io9.

Steampunk Romance: Resources & Books at SFR Brigade.

Steampunk Update, Part 2 - Old & New Cogs in the Steampunk Machine by John DeNardo at Kirkus.

Throwback Thursday: Corsets, clockwork and steampunk by Jessie Potts at USA Today.

Trend-spotting: Steampunk... by Kasmin Fernandes at The Times of India.

Winston Churchill’s plan to fight Nazis with massive aircraft carriers made from ice by George Dvorsky at io9.

Book/Story Reviews

The Aylesford Skull by James P Blaylock at Thinking about books.

Bitter Seeds by Ian Tregillis at The Ranting Dragon.

Bronze Summer by Stephen Baxter at Thinking about books.

Once Upon a Time Machine at Kirkus Reviews.

Society of Steam Trilogy at Black Gate.

"Under St. Peter's" by Harry Turtledove at Leeds Book Club.

Comics

Review of The Manhattan Projects #9 at Geek Syndicate.

WEB COMIC REVIEW: Boston Metaphysical Society – Issue 1 at Geek Syndicate.

Films

Help Fund ‘Cowboys & Engines: A Steampunk Film’ Starring ‘Totally Rad Show’s Jeff Cannata by Angie Han at /Film.

Quentin Tarantino plans 'Inglorious Basterds', 'Django Unchained' history trilogy with third film at NME.

Rhoda Uxbridge and The Multiverse by Inappropriate Factory at Kickstarter.

Games

Assassin's Creed 3's wacky Tyranny of King Washington DLC features superpowers, hallucinogens and an alternate history storyline by Tom Phillips at Eurogamer.net.

BioShock Infinite new trailer - Take 2 Interactive at Falcata Times.

Free running Steampunk themed platformer Grudger now available on Google Play by AndrewH at Droid Gamers.

Television

The BBC Presents a New Dramatization of Orwell’s 1984, with Christopher Eccleston as Winston Smith by  Josh Jones at Open Culture.

Budget Steampunk with “Try This At Home” at Nerdist.

Review of Elementary: Season 1, Episode 15 and 16 at Thinking about books.

Interviews

Kevin J. Anderson at AISFP.

Gail Carriger at Lytherus.

Genevieve Valentine at Lightspeed Magazine.

* * *

Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

Friday, February 22, 2013

March of the Eagles is Ready for War!


Last Tuesday, Paradox Development Studio and Paradox Interactive released their latest strategy/wargame March of the Eagles. The game is now available from major digital distributors for $19.99.

In March of Eagles you take control of one of the great powers of Europe and push for land and naval dominance at the height of the Napoleonic Wars. According to Paradox, March of the Eagles is friendly to wargame newcomers, while still having the streamlined diplomacy perfect for cutthroat scheming for both newcomers and veterans alike. Players fight and negotiate over a historical topographic map in full 3D with a complete view of Europe. The game also features a multiplayer allowing for 32 players to play at once.

Check out the launch trailer below:
If you are still not sure about March of Eagles, don't fret. A demo for March of the Eagles, Paradox’s newest wargame, is now available on Steam for those of you that want to give an army a test drive before taking up the reins of power.

The demo limits you to playing Prussia, the great central European power sandwiched between the might of France and the inexhaustible hordes of Russia. All single player capabilities as well as the tutorial and the hints system are included in this demo. There are no multiplayer capabilities, and saved games have been disabled.

If you want to learn more about how the game was made, you can read all the March of the Eagles developer diaries Paradox has made available.

Will history play out as before or will take humanity down a different path? If you do play the game, let us at The Update know. Submit your review to ahwupdate at gmail dot com and your thoughts will be shared with all of our readers.

* * *

Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

The Man in the High Castle will be Adapted for Cable TV

Unless you have been trapped on an alternate timeline, you probably heard last week about Syfy (pronounced "siffy") finalizing a deal to adapt Philip K. Dick’s Hugo Award-winning novel The Man In The High Castle into a 4-hour miniseries event with Frank Spotnitz (The X-Files, Hunted) attached to write and serve as Executive Producer. Ridley Scott’s Scott Free Productions will produce the project with Headline Pictures, Electric Shepherd Productions and FremantleMedia International (which will distribute the series globally). Spotnitz will write the first two hours and supervise the writing of the second two hours The second writer, air date and casting are TBA.

For those who don't know, Dick's The Man in The High Castle is set in an alternate 1960s in which Nazi Germany and Japan were victorious in World War II. The year is 1962 and the Axis Powers have split the United States between themselves. Now Germany and Japan are locked in a Cold War and the former United States could be the spark to set the world ablaze. All of this is background to our cast of characters who live their different, yet connected, lives.

“Ridley Scott is one of my all-time favorite filmmakers and this is one of my all-time favorite books,” said Spotnitz, “so I am incredibly honored and thrilled to have this opportunity.”

The Man in The High Castle is one of Dick’s most imaginative and captivating works and certainly one of my favorites. I am pleased to team up with the singular Frank Spotnitz and Syfy, Headline Pictures, Electric Shepherd and FremantleMedia International to bring this epic to audiences who will find this story as intriguing and riveting as we do.” said Ridley Scott. This is not Scott's first foray into Dick's fiction. He directed Blade Runner (1982) a remake (sigh) of which is in the works.

The idea of turning The Man in the High Castle into a film or television series is nothing new. Electric Shepherd announced last November they were working on a television version of the classic story. Now that SyFy has picked it up, however, should alternate historians be worried about what they are going to do with this classic (some might say the original) work of alternate history? Remember SyFy are the guys who gave us Mansquito and Sharktopus. Of course, Spotnitz and Scott have a lot of cred in the geek community, but Prometheus (despite its critical and financial success) has left a lot of fandom grumbling.

And let's face it, alternate historians have been burned before by cable.

Nevertheless I am going to play the cautious optimist for this one. I am not going to rant and rave, I want to see this series get made. It don't even need an exact retelling just as long as still presents the fundamentals that made the story great. If Scott and company don't manage to screw it up, we might even see a longer series which further explores Dick's Axis victory dystopia. Who knows? Maybe they will even Fringe-ify it by exploring (spoiler alert) the bizarre (from his perspective at least) alternate Earth Nobusuke Tagomi visited for a short time.

I guess I will need to consult the I Ching on this one.

* * *

Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Il Sogno della Patria by Dimas Aditya Hanandito

The seat on the window side of the bus was his deliberate choice. He could sit back and relax, stretch his legs a bit, and let his mind free for several hours. At least that was what he intended. As the rugged Fiat engine began to growl, again he pondered his decision to leave for Milan. How many times had he done that since he slammed his parents’ door shut? He lost count.

Raffaelo was raised an obedient child, a boy with fervent belief on the ideals of Tito. When your father worked in the police force, you were expected to become a role model of the society. Il figlio del maresciallo. Break the law, and you were out of the family. Everybody in the household must be citizens with flawless crime records. In a normal society, he would have no objection to such lifestyle. But in a society where they suppressed your thirst for knowledge, he found out it was extremely difficult to be adherent. He never regretted his decision to beat that insolent Yugoslav student after the conference. Who cares that bastard was the son of an influential statesman back home? Even his father’s fury would not undo those three or four teeth. Until last year, never did he know that being an unquestioning subject of his family and the Republic was simply contrary to his destiny.

It was a cloudy Friday on December. He didn’t know whether his father had announced a country-wide search for him, and could not care less. Giosué had notified him who to contact upon his arrival in Milan, an associate of Pinuzzu with whom he would carry on the mission. This friend had connections with families in Palermo, he said. Connections which would prove to be quite handy in providing supplies necessary for his job, he told.

Unlike him, Giosué might have had better life in the south. At least they were free to read anything they like, wear anything they want, buy anything they need. Sometimes he wondered how life blatantly presented inexplicable peculiarities even by the slightest of differences. He wasn’t envious, merely baffled on how a regime transformed entire families and societies. The Republic had more people, more factories, and more raw materials. By the time they had begun filling their steel factories with workers from all over the country, the majority of Southerners were still fishermen and farmers. By the time they had taken their automobiles of various brands to measure their newly built roads, the Southerners were still on their horse carriages and carts.

It all changed during the last two and a half decades.

He wasn’t born by then, neither did Giosué; they didn’t know much. What he knew from underground newspapers he secretly read was, for example, that Florence used to be the center of fashion industry. Now, the city only served as a major textile producer weaving hundreds of uniforms every day. No design, no taste. Ironically, the city used to house names like Ferragamo, Prada, and Gucci. These days you couldn’t see any of them in the streets of Florence. Nobody would have been able to afford them either. Instead, try Naples or Rome. There, you could find even the most elaborate fashion from many corners of the world.

As he and Giosué were born after the divide, they knew very little what happened before. Giosué was a bit luckier; he got himself some good books. Especially for a son of a bureaucrat like him, access to books in Naples was very easy. At least easier that it was in Florence, Raffaelo thought. Then he remembered when Giosué recounted his experience at some kind of hip restaurant in Naples, but he failed to recall the name. McDavids? McDaniels? Whatever it was, Giosué said the Americans brought it there. It was all about the Americans. As a bureaucrat, Giosué’s father had lot of contacts with Americans. Apparently, his son inherited the trait. Although Raffaelo was never sure about Giosué’s disposition to the Americans, he personally didn’t trust the Americans more than the Yugoslavs.

He and Pinuzzu often disagree on principal issues such as whether free market or central planning was better (Pinuzzu was a great admirer of Marx), but for this matter he was certain Pinuzzu would side with him. The Sicilian had a bitter resentment against the Americans, a hatred brought from the previous generation. Sicilians like Pinuzzu would never forget what the Americans did in Canicattì. The incident fueled the rage of the entire island, and a violent uprising soon ensued. They were well rewarded as the revolt concluded with the Sicilians proclaiming their own state, free from American “guidance” other southern regions received at that time. This year they celebrated their twenty-second anniversary in midst of economic mismanagement and internal strife between the families.

As the bus entered Emilia-Romagna, Alessandra’s oval-shaped face appeared in his mind all of a sudden. There were little features not to be admired from it. Like those soft cheeks, often reddened when she spoke with zeal; and those lips, equally tender as they were eloquent. Her radiant green eyes, reflecting the library of knowledge she had, was what Raffaelo liked the most from the Sardinian girl. The last thing he saw of her was her wind-blown wavy hair on top the slender stature, blond with streaks of black, as she went to board the plane to Cagliari.

To him, Alessandra was an exceptional young woman in many respects. Her mother had concerns of her pursuing higher education and would prefer to get grandchildren, but she continued nevertheless thanks to her father’s support. Her father himself often had quarrels with local PSd’Az members, to the extent that he brandished a shotgun when they remarked how Alessandra would be “a prime Sardinian woman if her brain wasn’t bigger than her breasts”. Shortly after, he sent his only daughter away to Florence to attend a conference participated by students from universities in four peninsular nations with a special delegation from the University of Belgrade.

At the conference, she didn’t disappoint at all. Alessandra dazzled many other students and participants with her intrepid speech about il ricongiungimento, spoken in impeccable Italian. She would go home with pride, presenting her father the “outstanding delegate” award. Raffaelo had never met such an outstanding female like her in his life, and was immediately enthralled by her gracefulness. She shared his dreams of becoming one nation again, along with Giosué and Pinuzzu.

And today would be the day.

* * *

Several hours later, he got off in an esplanade across a colossal, cubical edifice in the heart of Milan. Raffaelo examined the leather briefcase Pinuzzu’s associate gave to him as the latter drove away in his brown Alfa Romeo. Then he checked his watch; just a minute past four-thirty in the afternoon. The others must have been ready by now. He casually crossed the street; his hands firmly gripped the briefcase. He recalled his visit to this place years ago with his family, when they had this little vacation in Milan. The alphabets over the front entrance read “Banca Nazionale dell’Agricoltura”, it hadn’t changed since. Ensuring he had the briefcase with him for the last time, he stepped in.

* * *

Dimas Aditya Hanandito is s junior ucroniador from the Far East currently in his final years of college who sometimes delves into the alternate past out of boredom of the present reality.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

New Releases 2/19/13

E-books

Nefertiti's Heart by A.W. Exley

Description from Amazon.

London, 1861. Impoverished noble Cara has a simple mission after the strange death of her father - sell off his damned collection of priceless artifacts. Her plan goes awry when aristocratic beauties start dying of broken hearts, an eight inch long brass key hammered through their chests. A killer hunts amongst the nobility, searching for a regal beauty and an ancient Egyptian relic rumored to hold the key to immortality.

Her Majesty's Enforcers are in pursuit of the murderer and they see a connection between the gruesome deaths and Cara. So does she, somewhere in London her father hid Nefertiti's Heart, a fist sized diamond with strange mechanical workings. Adding further complication to her life, notorious crime lord, Viscount Nathaniel Lyons is relentless in his desire to lay his hands on Cara and the priceless artifact. If only she could figure out his motive.

Self-preservation fuels Cara's search for the gem. In a society where everyone wears a mask to hide their true intent, she needs to figure out who to trust, before she makes a fatal mistake.

Recovering Apollo 8 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Description from Amazon.

In a world where Apollo 8 veered tragically off course, the event sent the astronauts, and the space program, hurtling into space, lost and helpless. The tragedy so affected eight-year-old Richard Johansenn that he dedicates his life—and the fortune he amasses along the way—to recovering the capsule. But Richard’s quest proves more complicated than a simple recovery mission, causing him to question the meaning of life, the meaning of death and the heroisms in between.

Savior-After Earth: Ghost Stories by Michael Jan Friedman

Description from Amazon.

On a distant planet called Nova Prime, the United Ranger Corps defends the galaxy’s remaining humans from an alien race known as the Skrel and their genetically engineered predators, the Ursa—and one Ranger will learn just how high the cost of victory can be. “Ghost Stories: Savior” is the fifth of six eBook short stories that lead up to the events of After Earth, the epic science fiction adventure film directed by M. Night Shyamalan and starring Jaden Smith and Will Smith.

Ranger Jon Blackburn wakes up from voluntary brain surgery, dazed and confused. He is a hero . . . or at least he will be one, if the delicate operation to remove his sense of fear was successful. Blackburn consented to take part in the experimental initiative to increase the Rangers’ reserve of “Ghosts,” soldiers whose lack of fear renders them invisible to the deadly Ursa. All indications are that it’s a spectacular success—but Blackburn doesn’t feel special; he doesn’t feel honored when Cypher Raige, the Original Ghost, personally thanks him. In fact, he doesn’t really feel much of anything. Doctors say that his fear is gone, but something else is missing, too; something Blackburn may not be able to get back, unless he can piece together this twisted jigsaw puzzle and find a way to become whole again.

Comics

Rex Mundi Omnibus Volume 2 by Arvid Nelson

Description from Amazon.

An original comic book mini-series by Arvid Nelson, Rex Mundi is a murder mystery set in a 1930s Paris where magic is real and kings and popes are still in power. Dr. Julien Sauniere's quest to catch his friend's murderer has led him to a secret society dedicated to protecting the mystery of the Holy Grail. Now in pursuit of the Grail, Julien has been betrayed by his lover, hunted by the Inquisition, and witnesses slaughters and miracles in a wild mountain valley owned by the power-mad Duke of Lorraine.

To fans, authors and publishers...

Do you want to see your work given a shout out on our New Releases segment? Contact Mitro at ahwupdate at gmail dot com.  We are looking for works of alternate history, counterfactual history, steampunk, historical fantasy, time travel or anything that warps history beyond our understanding.

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Matt Mitrovich is the founder and editor of Alternate History Weekly Update, a blogger on Amazing Stories and a volunteer editor for Alt Hist magazine. His fiction can be found at Echelon PressJake's Monthly and The Were-Traveler. When not writing he works as an attorney, enjoys life with his beautiful wife Alana and prepares for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. You can follow him on Facebook or Twitter.