#1
EXT. A COASTAL TOWN –
DAY
*Traditional Asian
flute playing on the background.
FADE IN.
A middle-aged MAN in
civilian clothing is standing on the edge of a coast; his eyes focused on the empty,
blue ocean. The sun is shining brightly, as if it would never set. Coastal wind
blows his headband aslant. One can hear the sound of waves splashing into rocks
and the lively squawks of seagulls. THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN to his weary but resolute
face, seemingly making him older than his actual age.
MAN
[VOICEOVER] August, 1945. It is the fourth year of
the Pacific War. The Committee has declared independence shortly following the
fall of Hawaii. The American counterattack was swift and effective in retaking
their most important Pacific base after letting the Japanese occupy it for
three and a half years; yet, I am worried that we might have underestimated the
Japanese capability to reaffirm their stand in the Pacific. With the Americans
closing in to Okinawa, the Committee is very confident with the success of the
movement. But they seem to deliberately neglect the fact that the Japanese are
approaching the outskirts of Chongqing, which means they will be able to divert
some of their forces to fight us before delivering another strike to the
Americans. I warned the Committee that this revolution… Their revolution was one that is unprepared and unripe.
He
reaches his breast pocket, taking out a folded letter. THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN to
view the black ink handwriting as he unfolds it, stares it with looks of rue,
and begins to read.
MAN’S BROTHER
[VOICEOVER] Dear brother, how are you? How are the
people in the south? I hope everybody is fine. Our initial attacks were largely
successful and the Northern Revolutionary Corps had managed to push the
remnants of the Imperial Army to as far as Hyesan. I got sixteen on target last
week, all heads; how about that? Now we are fortifying along the river, where
we will face the Kwantung Army once and for all. After all of this ends, we
will become fully independent again. Tae-chol will be coming to your place in a
few days. Please take care of him while I am away. He is a diligent boy, he
would be more than glad to help you with your business. Yours, Jae.
The man folds the
letter, returns it to his pocket, and begins to shudder. His face, previously
jaded but determined, gradually turns into an expression of rue and sorrow. THE
CAMERA SHOOTS STEADILY to highlight the man’s anguishing visage.
MAN
[VOICEOVER]
These people haven’t the slightest idea.
CUT TO BLACK.
No. Think again. He is right.
Who believed we were going to win that quickly anyway? If the
Empire still exists, untouched, unblemished by any foreign power… Then our
existence itself is in danger. There is no telling what they will do in the
next two or three years. We would have no allies at that time. Something…
Something profound has to happen if our survival is to be guaranteed.
The Americans. They must achieve greater victory. And the
Chinese. They must resist longer.
(The sound of
crumpling paper and scribbling)
#1B
INT.
A BAR IN DOWNTOWN HEIJO – EVENING
*Sound
of a band playing joyful folk music.
CUT
IN.
THE
CAMERA SHOOTS OVERHEAD on a bar. It is filled with cheering crowds; many in groups,
some with their couples. Most of the men are dressed in standard-issue civilian
uniform, while the women wear traditional or working uniform dresses. They dance,
drink, laugh, and embrace each other in joy. One can see they keep the
bartender busy behind his counter, taking out more and more bottles. Among the
crowd, TAE-CHOL, a young man in his early twenties, raises his glass of soju and swallows it in one gulp. He is
about 5’5” tall, wearing olive shirt and pants. His girlfriend, a pretty
commoner of his age HYEON-AE, embraces him from behind. She sports a 5’2”
height and wears a dark green civilian dress.
HYEON-AE
(cheerfully) Tae-chol! So what are we going to do after this?
TAE-CHOL
(smiling) We go south. My uncle lives in
Keijo; he allows me to work at his factory, where he produces cement. There’s
got to be good demand for it after the war. (pauses) I’m sure the Americans would be heading here as soon as
they make the Empire surrender, which means we’ll have the opportunity to
rebuild this nation with their help.
HYEON-AE
(happy tears) I’m glad it’s finally over.
Nobody is waiting for me at home. I will go wherever you will.
TAE-CHOL
Don’t
worry my love; we’ve been through the hardest moment together, we’ll make this
to the end together.
THE CAMERA ZOOMS OUT
from the couple as their faces get close to kiss, REVOLVES around the bar, and ZOOMS
IN to a Revolutionary Force pamphlet lying beside bottles and cups on the table.
The date is August 4, 1945. It reads:
KYUSHU FELL! IMPERIAL
NAVY SUFFERS SETBACKS IN VARIOUS FRONTS! AMERICANS HEAD STRAIGHT TO THE HOME
ISLANDS!
Suddenly, the bar door
is knocked open. A YOUNG MAN in traditional outfit, his hands holding his
Arisaka rifle, enters hastily and shouts.
YOUNG MAN
(gasping) They are here!
*The band stops playing
music. Silence.
Rifle shots suddenly
pierce the wooden walls of the bar. Several people are hit, including the Young
Man. Tae-chol grabs Hyeon-ae’s arm and flings her behind the bar. He then takes
cover behind a table. He brandishes his stolen Nambu pistol, cocks the firearm,
and begins firing back. Several men are also taking out their sidearms while
the women evacuate. The bartender draws his shotgun from the counter,
successfully fires it on a charging Imperial soldier.
The gunfight continues
wildly. Bullets pass through soju bottles
and cups, leaving cheap broken ceramics and glasses all over the place. Some of
the attackers begin using submachine guns, tearing the wooden entrance apart.
More men inside the bar are shot. Tae-chol maneuvers behind fallen tables, and
shoots a submachine gunner through the window. A rifle bullet then grazes his
left shoulder. Hyeon-ae, witnessing the entire event from behind the counter,
shouts to his lover.
HYEON-AE
Tae-chol!
A grenade is then
thrown inside the bar. It explodes with loud bang.
CUT TO BLACK.
FADE IN.
A wounded Tae-chol
awakes in midst of a rubble which is previously a bar counter. There is blood
all over his face and hands. Bodies of revolutionaries and Imperial soldiers
are all over the place. He observe many familiar faces, eyes wide open. But he
just starts to tremble as he find out that beside him lays the soulless body of
Hyeon-ae, cold and unmoving. Tae-chol shatters.
CUT TO BLACK.
I can’t believe it. This doesn’t sound right.
I have seen this divergence someplace! It was Shimamura...
Or Okabayashi. The Empire surrenders and then our independence. A challenging
premise: most of them had the divergence centered on Hawaii. If the Americans
could go beyond Eastern Pacific, they might as well go as far as making the
home islands within reach of their bombers. But hell, they couldn't even retake
Hawaii back then. Weaklings. I thought the Americans outsized our industrial
might ten to one. Perhaps the occupation of Pearl Harbor was indeed the major
turning point.
And what about that fantasy-bomb they thought won the war?
Although I have to say Okabayashi’s premise is interesting; with Einstein
surviving his assassination attempt in Antwerp, he could renounce his
citizenship and return to America anytime he wanted. Still, I doubt he could be
of any help to the Americans more than Heisenberg was to the Germans.
Or better yet, more than Nishina was to the Empire.
Well, maybe I’m apathetic, but I’m a realist nevertheless. I
can’t go on with this. Here’s my point: suppose the Americans managed to
fantasy-bomb the home islands, the Kwantung Army would still be intact. Given
the battle-hardened fervor of the armed forces, there is no way they are going
to surrender that instant. The peninsula in particular would still be in their
possession. Most importantly, any of our revolutionary efforts would be met
with force. Heck, those revolutionaries might get slaughtered before the
Americans are even finished with the bulk of the Imperial Army and get to the
peninsula. Honekawa-san wants me to make something original, something
appalling, something stronger and more convincing.
So, what’s worse than fighting a great power? Fighting two great
powers at once, of course. From two different directions.
Alright. Let’s pull the divergence far, far beyond, beyond any
of them has ever thought before. I’m going to take this to Europe.
(Another sound of paper crumpling and
scribbling, this time steadier)
#1C
INT. COUNTRY HOUSE –
EVENING
*Silence.
FADE IN.
One can see a calendar
hanging aside an old family photo. Every date on the calendar has red circles,
ending on August 31, 1945. Suddenly a ceramic teapot is thrown to the wall. It
breaks IN SLOW MOTION with a loud crash, splattering the tea within it all over
the wall and the surrounding floor. THE CAMERA PANS to shoot TEENAGER, who is
about to exit the house, stops at the moment the teapot hits the wall. He turns
to face his FATHER, a middle-aged man, who stands in anger. One can see the
MOTHER and the YOUNGER BROTHER on the corner of the room, looking frightened.
FATHER
(furiously) No! I’m saying you won’t go!
You stay and we wait for the Americans!
TEENAGER
What
else, father? Are you going to wait for them to come and have all of us rounded
as slaves? I am a proud soldier of the Empire, father. My loyalty lies with the
Emperor. To the north I shall go, to fight with my brethren and halt the Soviet
onslaught from defiling our lands. To die for the Emperor is the greatest honor
for an imperial subject!
FATHER
You
are not even born in their lands! How could you call yourself a subject of that
goddamned Emperor? Didn't you remember how they slaughtered your cousin in
Heijo? They murdered him in cold blood!
The Mother begins to
sob in the corner. The Younger Brother, looking confused, hugs his mom in
consolation.
TEENAGER
That
treacherous fellow resisted! I knew he had ties with the Revolutionary
Committee. He has been operating with the Heijo Underground all these months,
communicating in secret with the Americans and the Soviets. He deserved to get
what he got along with that disloyal woman of his!
The Father can no
longer withstand the insolence. He steps forward and hits the Teenager on the
face. The Teenager stumbles.
FATHER
You
step outside this house (pauses,
hesitates), you are no longer a member of this family.
The Teenager quickly
returns on his feet, stares his father on the eye for a second, and then exits
the house with a loud slamming on the door.
CUT TO BLACK.
Wait.
If the Soviets made it through Moscow and had the Germans pummeled all the way
to Berlin, it should be inevitable that they shifted their attention to the
East. Given the situation in Europe, Moscow should have been the most decisive
campaign of all. The Germans were bullseye when von Bock went all the way to
Moscow. There should be something... (Sound of books being rummaged, pages
being whirled) A-ha!
The
Germans must be delayed from reaching Moscow. There is a good possibility that
they went for Ukraine at that time, and I’m going to make exactly that...
Perfect. Now if the Red Army managed to withhold and subsequently crush the
Wehrmacht with sufficient defense in Moscow, they would be able to drive the
Germans completely away from Russian land by, say, autumn of 1944.
Then
they will turn east.
(Sudden realization)
What
was I thinking? Why stop at helping the North create their own government or
establishing a client state? If the Americans cannot even pass through Hawaii
by 1945, the Soviets would find it a walk in the park to sweep the entire
peninsula at one stroke. I think they could even reach the southern tip by September,
no, August 1945.
I
think I might be close to a possibility none of them ever been before.
(Sound of papers being crumpled and
thrown away)
#1D
INT. PYONGYANG METRO
SAMHUNG STATION – MORNING
*Sound of underground
train passing. Railroad creaks.
CUT IN.
THE CAMERA SHOOTS on an
arriving train. Hundreds of people, men and women and children, exit the
carriage as its doors open. Among the commuters is NAM-SE, a 19-year old
student of Korean State University. He has a clean, round face covered with
curly black hair. Unlike most of his people, his eyes are moderately slanted
and his nose firm. The 5’9” figure walks briskly towards the exit, wearing a
brown coat over his checkered white shirt and black pants, his left hand
carrying a leather bag.
EXT. STREETS IN FRONT
OF SAMHUNG STATION – MORNING
*Sound of morning
traffic and pedestrian busyness.
One can hear the
approaching winter through the autumn winds as Nam-se takes the staircase to
the surface. Falling leaves are being blown away. He goes across the road in
front of the metro station and turns left, walking along the sidewalks. As he
walks, THE CAMERA HIGHLIGHTS the skyline of the city.
NAM-SE
[VOICEOVER]
Pyongyang. Sometimes I still can’t believe I made it here.
Nam-se passes a park
with statues as he heads to a student apartment complex, where he enters one of
the brown, brick edifices.
INT. GWANGGURYEO
STUDENT APARTMENT – MORNING
Prior to boarding the
stairs, Nam-se greets OLD MAN HO in the reception.
NAM-SE
Good
morning Mr. Ho!
OLD MAN HO
Good
morning! Nam-se, there were several boys looking for you just now. They left
just a while ago and didn't leave any names. You made any appointment?
NAM-SE
Well,
that’s strange. I don’t recall having any agenda with anybody today.
OLD MAN HO
(shrugs) Well, I hope there won’t be any
problem then.
NAM-SE
No
worries Mr. Ho. Thank you for keeping me informed.
He waves to Old Man Ho
as he heads to his flat on the second floor. He lives in a 5-floor small
student apartment with four flats each floor. He inserts the key to the third
door from the stairs, which opens after two clicks.
INT. NAM-SE’S FLAT –
MORNING
Nam-se puts his leather
bag on a small table by the window, on which lays a photograph of his family;
his father, mother, and older brother. THE CAMERA SHOOTS on the picture, taken
fourteen years ago in front of his father’s cement factory. Suddenly HYO-RI, a
shadowy figure, greets him from behind.
HYO-RI
You
seem to have a nice, memorable childhood.
Nam-se turns his back
on reflex to find a girl of his age standing in front of him. She wears dark
green short-sleeved shirt on top of his blue skirt.
NAM-SE
(calmly) Memorable, yes; nice, not
necessarily. Who are you? How did you get in?
HYO-RI
(giggles) You answered coolly. We always
find some way. My name is Hyo-ri. I need you to listen to this important
proposition I’m going to make.
NAM-SE
What
is this all about?
HYO-RI
What
are you?
NAM-SE
What
kind of question is that? What do you suppose me to answer? A student?
HYO-RI
Well,
so am I. Though I need a cooler answer than that (giggles). Let’s show each other our IDs.
NAM-SE
Why
should I trust you?
HYO-RI
Oh
come now, what’s so troubling about fellow students showing each other their
IDs?
The two of them, both
being students, flash their student IDs to each other. Nam-se’s ID reads:
KOREAN
STATE UNIVERSITY
NAME : JI NAM-SE
ID NUMBER : 119
21058 0024
NATIONALITY : SOVIET
DEPARTMENT : KIM SONG-JU SCHOOL OF POLITICAL SCIENCE
HYO-RI
(continues) Let me ask you one question.
Are you really a Soviet?
NAM-SE
(puzzled
hesitation) What do you expect? I was born in the Korean SSR.
HYO-RI
So
was I again. Gosh, we had a lot in common. Do you have any relatives in Korea?
NAM-SE
If
by Korea you meant the republic in the south, my brother went there during the
war to help defend the peninsula against the Americans. He never came back and
I never heard from him since. What does he have to do with this?
HYO-RI
I
see. Well, that’s why I think you will be interested with our proposition. I’m
talking about reuniting you and your brother. And many other families separated
after the war. I’m talking about sec…
Before Hyo-ri can
finish her sentence, there are sounds of hasty footsteps on the corridor
outside. There seems to be several people heading to his flat. Hyo-ri, aware of
the sounds, becomes alerted.
HYO-RI
Bad
luck. They are coming this way. Come, you have to follow me!
* * *
Crispy.
This is fun! I can make this an espionage thriller. Young Nam-se wants his
family to be one once again. Far within his heart he knows he is a Korean, not
a Soviet! I think this is going to sell amidst the ongoing sentiment that we
are Koreans, not Japanese!
“Oi Shuichi! Why are you talking to
yourself?” a voice alerted the scriptwriter.
“Motaro! What the hell are you doing in
my flat?”
“Calm down! I was here since afternoon,
remember? Went out to buy some bento from
nearby konbini. You told me you are
going to write something big today. Figured out you might want to be
undisturbed so I took home some food to eat. I hardly believe somebody like you
can fill your stomach only by writing.”
“I can,” argued Shuichi. “Honekawa-san
is going to pay big for this.”
Motaro rummaged through the scraps of
paper Shuichi threw away, skimmed them one by one.
“What’s this? You scrapped all these
altogether? Americans retake Hawaii, Korean independence; Americans strike to
Kyushu, Korean independence; Soviets invade Manchuria, Korean independence;
these are hell of a timeline. You’re politically Korean now? You going to make
use of next week’s Co-prosperity Day demonstration to pitch your writing to
Honekawa-san?”
“You know as well as I do I’m never
really into politics. But I’m well into anything which can turn my writing into
yen. You’re free to comment.”
“Speaking of which, you really think
the Soviets can make it through Moscow? If I show this to Franz he’s going to
laugh his ass off. You remember that Nazi drunkard? Wow! The Empire under
attack from two directions? I can’t even imagine the Americans could retake
Hawaii with the death of Nimitz. Hey, what about that one you’re currently
writing?”
“Anything can happen, Motaro. In
alternate worlds, even the unthinkable can happen.”
* * *
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.
