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Even I feel bad for the Jones family at end there. Traitors they may be but breaking up a family like that is just mean. :)

Common tactic employed by totalitarian/authoritarian regimes. It is easier to break a person without any ties to what they knew before.
 

annsan

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Common tactic employed by totalitarian/authoritarian regimes. It is easier to break a person without any ties to what they knew before.

if you were a strong syndicalist knowing your children were being brainwashed into bright young things thousands of miles away knowing youd never see them again would be a pretty terrible torture
 

Baron Jukaga

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hand-feed.jpg
 

StormSaxon

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I think what I enjoy the most about this AAR/Alt Hist peice is the portrayal of the world. It feels very real, not outstandingly miserable or utopian, there's the good and the bad. The little details like these court cases really add to that feeling of fidelity. Glad to see this story coming back to life.
 
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Maximus101

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Magna Carta means nothing I guess.

I wonder what happened to Charles I's death warrant. Probably lost (or "lost") during the liberation.

Shows that even these pseudo-Fascists are still better then other regimes in some ways.
I know, right? Only one execution?! Pretty lenient AFAIC.
If this is a random sample 1/20 is actually kind of high. (It isn't random though)

I know there is this popular perception that authoritarian regimes execute everyone that so much as steps out of line but that isn't really true. Saudi Arabia has some of the broadest amount of crimes that involve capital punishment and they "only" executed 79 people in 2012. Amerosol is a big exception, not normal.

Outside of crimes that can have a political bent most regimes don't care (which allows corruption).

Even I feel bad for the Jones family at end there. Traitors they may be but breaking up a family like that is just mean. :)
Traitors? Treason usually requires betraying ones country to another.

Also we don't know what the definition the of "syndicalist" materials are. The Empire seems to call everything from Totalists to actual Syndicalists to Hard Left Social Democrats "syndicalists".

I mean they are keeping court records secret and are denying jury trials. I don't think one can say the system is entirely fair.
 
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I mean they are keeping court records secret and are denying jury trials. I don't think one can say the system is entirely fair.

In the context of common law, yes denying jury trials is terrible. However we have no idea whether the Commonwealth still utilizes common law or whether it has transitioned to civil law or a mixed system.
 

annsan

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In the context of common law, yes denying jury trials is terrible. However we have no idea whether the Commonwealth still utilizes common law or whether it has transitioned to civil law or a mixed system.

The Empire does love 'modernising'

Crown vs. “Wilkins, B.”
CHARGE: Crimes Against Humanity, Contempt of Court
SYNOPSIS:
The defendant was living under an alias, concealing her identity as Elizabeth Abbott, a known Mosleyite apparatchik wanted in association with the disappearance and/or murder of 14 political resistors during the former regime. The defendant demanded trial by jury despite trial by jury having been abolished, and was further charged with contempt of court.

The previous justice system doesnt exactly sound great either

'Prohibited Expession' can be added to the list of creepy Crown Atomic euphemisms! :p
 

Asalto

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Those court cases offer really good insight into depicted society. Well done, I read this update with greatest interest!
 

Anuerin

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Crown vs. Callaghan, J.
CHARGE: Ration Card Fraud
SYNOPSIS:
The defendant was apprehended using his ration card fraudulently, improperly obtaining beef, eggs, chewing gum and milk powder with a value of $4.42.

VERDICT: Guilty. Sentence: Fine of $15.00, suspension of IBOL entitlements for a period of 1 year.

Sunny Jim you cheeky sod.
 
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cookfl

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Probably my last summer interlude - next update is in progress and normal service will resume shortly.

=======

Summer Vacation

jVftJei.jpg

Vancouver, Imperial Columbia, Canada - 1952

Howard Brown pulled his tie knot, the wool delicate against his rough, machinists hands. He checked in the mirror, fiddling with the last few creases. He rarely wore a tie, and it felt tight around his neck. The welfare officer at the plant, a grandmotherly type, had smiled and nodded when he'd asked for the extra day off. Of course, she said. What an exciting day. The memory of her bronze IBOL lapel pin reminded him to attach his.

He found Mary sitting on their daughter's bed.
"You all right, hun?" he asked from the doorway.

She seemed far away for a moment, taking in the modest little room, tidied and ordered since Janey's departure. The pink finishes, the row of dolls and weathered toys, told of a girlhood put away. Mary didn't know why, but the idea of their daughter coming back seemed almost as strange as her leaving had been. She reached for her Sunday gloves, sitting beside her, and looked at her husband.
"Sure I am," she smiled.

She waited on the stoop while Howard brought the car around. Theirs was a tidy little working-class neighborhood: IBOL ranch houses, each one with three bedrooms, a green parcel of lawn and blossoming cherry tree. Most people around here worked in the big crown corporation plants over in Surrey, their smoke stacks visible over the rooftops. People passing waved, and said hello. Many knew that Janey came home today. She'd just about been the pride of the neighborhood when she'd passed the five days of exams into pioneer school.

Howard drove up and got out to open the door for her. Mary fidgeted with her hair as she got in.
"Don't be so nervous," he said as they drove off.
"I'm not," she lied. She held her purse in her lap, drumming her gloved fingers on the leather.
"She's still our Janey."

Mary looked at the identical houses passing by, listening the rolling of the tires on the concrete roadway. "She'll be embarrassed by us now."
"Of course she won't."
"She'll think we're awfully humble."
He chuckled. "She went to pioneer school, not Chateau Laurier."
Mary pursed her lips at his teasing. She picked at her skirt.
"You think she'll like my dress?"
"She will."
"You like it?" She'd clipped IBOL coupons for it, especially for the occasion. She couldn't remember the last time she'd bought a new dress just for herself like that.

"I do," Howard said, giving way to a big truck carrying concrete to the part of the suburb still under construction. Most of the Vancouver suburbs had been built since '36. They were on the shopping strip now, Googie signs and busy parking lots advertising the businesses: the drug store, the soda-fountain, the drive-in theater. A sunny billboard over the roadway showed an attractive young couple having a picnic. World's Highest Standard of Living! A mural of the King-Emperor and Queen-Empress smiled down from the side of the laundromat.

Mary glanced at her husband sideways. "What do you know about dresses? You barely saw it."
"I did," Howard replied gruffly. "It's pink. You look lovely."
Mary smiled. The big supermarket was passing on the left.
"Howard, pull in," she said.
"We'll be late," Howard protested.
"I want to buy a few things for Janey," she said. "Pull in."
Howard sighed. He flicked his blinker.

Inside, muzak tinkled over the PA. Mary's heel's clacked on the polished linoleum. Bright signs advertised deals and savings. She filled a cart with packaged cakes, Empire Cola, things she thought Janey would like. She didn't know what they ate at pioneer school. An IBOL poster over the vegetable coolers showed a beaming mother serving her children dinner. Better Nutrition for A Stronger Future! She thought the little girl looked a little like Janey; she'd been blonde and curly like that. The poster over the meat aisle showed three strapping young men: a soldier, a worker, a hockey player. Canadian Meat Fuels Our Workforce! Mary would've liked a boy as well - a matching pair. After Janey, she remembered the bleeding, the pain, the whispering of the midwives. It had only been a few years after the Exile, the hard years when medicine had been hard to come by. The doctor had frowned down at her from the end of the bed. He said she wouldn't have children again; he said she was lucky to be alive. Sometimes the plenty around her felt like a daydream.

"Are you all right?"
Mary blinked back into being. She'd come to stop in the frozen foods aisle (Imperial Science Guarantees Freshness!), lost in her thoughts. A store-worker in an apron had asked her the question.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Mary smiled.
The woman looked at her dubiously. Mary realized there was a tear on her cheek, and wiped it away quickly.
"So many choices!" Mary exclaimed over-brightly, reaching for the nearest tub of ice-cream and retreating as soon as possible. She went to the cashier, counting out four dollars. Worried she'd tear up again, she didn't meet the woman's eyes, but stared at the cigarette ads by the register instead. More Doctors Recommend Bahamas Smooth Cigarettes Than Any Other Brand! Only when she was halfway across the parking lot did she realize the ice-cream would melt in the car. She dropped the softening tub in a trash can. Howard noticed, but he didn't say anything.

They drove out of town, along the Fraser River. The wooded country was calm, freshening with the burgeoning summer. Howard chatted to her for a while, male conversation revolving around life at the plant and the hockey league, until he too was overcome with nerves. He flicked on the radio, and they listened to some songs. An announcer came on, and read the news. There were strikes in Portugal, he said, and fighting continued in the Philippines. Mary didn't know much about faraway places, but the news said their boys were doing well in the Yucatan, and that was all that counted she supposed. They lost the radio signal in the rising hills, and then they were left with silence.

"She'll still love us, won't she?" Mary asked.
"Of course she will," her husband said.

They drove down sun-dappled, forest roads, until they came across a pair of gates, ivy-clad and august. Alouette Lake School, a bronze plaque read. The royal coat of arms was embossed underneath.

"There it is," Mary said. They turned up a driveway, winding its way through the conifers until it broke, suddenly, into expansive green lawns. On top of the hill stood the school, the main building craggy and Gothic. This used to be a private boarding school, but private education had been abolished under the New Order, and all schools were public now. The pioneer schools stood at the top of the hierarchy. As they drove up, they passed fields where ranks of white-uniformed boys and girls practiced calisthenics, or scrambled over obstacle courses. Any child who passed the exam was sent to a pioneer school, no cost. Future Empire leaders, the admissions officer had explained when they'd told Mary and Howard the news about Janey. A great honor, he'd said. After pioneer school, Janey would be able to do whatever she wanted: science, government, business, military. Still, Mary had wept for days after they'd put her on the bus.

They reached the main building, and suddenly, there was Janey. She stood on the wide, Palladian steps, her case beside her, packed for summer vacation. In her neat, black uniform she looked much older, all trace of baby-fat gone, her unruly blonde curls tamed to a neat bun. For a moment, Mary found the figure foreboding, but Janey smiled, and waved and suddenly she was her again. Mary opened the door almost before Howard had stopped the car, and in a moment her daughter was in her arms, smelling of regulation soap and polish but also, undeniably, herself.
"It's good to see you," Janey said, and Mary cried again.

In contrast to the drive to the school, the drive home was full of conversation. Janey told them about her lessons, how she'd been instructed in technology, civics, German and French. She explained how they were woken up every morning to exercise, and how she'd been taught to shoot and drive a truck. She'd learned about history, economics and political theory; about the Reds and all the terrible things they'd done and all the foolish ideas they had. The other students were passionate, exciting; they came from Vancouver, Toronto, Quebec, even Los Angeles. The girls and the boys learned together, but the boys did their physical tasks apart. Janey thought it was because the boys' training was harder. They'd been told they were the future of the Empire and the New American Order, and they'd do exciting, important things. And she delighted Howard when she told him he was a Hero of Labor, and how proud she was of his work for the Empire, and how important it was that worker and management worked together for the good of all. Mary sat, and listened, and worried about their little house. How could it compare to any of that?

They parked up, and Howard helped Janey with her case. He went to park the car, leaving mother and daughter alone. Mary shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm sure you'll be bored here all summer," she said.
Janey smiled. "How could I be? It's my home."
"You could go into the city. There's always so much to do."
"I want to spend time with you and pa!"
They went inside, Mary feeling a little better. "Well everyone wants to see you! Your aunt and uncles, the neighbors. Everyone's very proud of you, Janey."
"I can't wait to see them, mom."
"I straightened up your room as best I could. When your dad comes in, he can take up your case. Let him fuss on you a bit. He's missed you."
"I missed both of you too," Janey said. "Being at home's not the same as writing."

They sat on the couch. "I got some cola, and some cake. I thought you could call some of your old friends. Have a little party if you like."
"I'd like that," Janey said.
"And Patrick Murray's mother told me he’s back from the Army for a few weeks. You two used to be so close. Maybe he'll call to ask you out. He's a nice, handsome boy."
Janey smiled tolerantly. "Maybe he will. I'd like that." Her eyes wandered the room, taking in home again.

Suddenly, her expression grew sharp. She stood abruptly.
"Janey?" Mary asked, surprised.
"There's a mark on the King's portrait," Janey said, stepping up the fireplace and taking the picture down from where it hung. She polished it robustly with her sleeve. "And you weren't hanging it straight!" She glanced at Mary and added, scoldingly: "...you should be more respectful, mom."
"I...of course," Mary stammered, upset. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice. Everything was in such a rush - ”
Janey replaced the portrait with military precision.
"There!" she said brightly, cutting Mary off. She touched her mother's shoulder as she returned to her seat. "There's no harm done, but you should be more thoughtful next time."

Howard entered.
"All done...Janey, I'll take your case upstairs." He noticed Mary's expression. "Everything okay?"
Mary forced a smile. "Oh...yes," she said, even if her heart was beating a little quicker. Janey had never snapped at her before. She told herself it would just take some time to get used to each other again.
"Of course, pa," Janey told her father.

She took her mother's hand and returned her smile. Mary felt the new tightness in her grip, the calluses from climbing obstacles. "I’m just so happy to be home.”
 
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