The Manifesto
Uploaded April 18, 2016, at 4:43 PM (Mexico time)
The video began with a Neurhomanian man wearing a feathered headdress inspecting the camera, seeing if it was recording. He made a thumbs-up to people behind the camera and then stepped back, revealing a Roman in an orange jumpsuit on his knees. In the background was a deserted street with signs in Fusang Chinese, recognizable as the central square of Zhumasi, Fusang’s largest southern city.
“You may know me as Werner Hainisch,” the headdressed man said, “But I have repudiated the name of the foreign conquerors. I was born as Xocoyol Itzcoatl in northern Neurhomania, a land where the faithful are persecuted even today by godless heathens. Godless heathens like this missionary here.”
Hainisch took out a jagged obsidian dagger and brandished it at the camera, while the missionary murmured nervously through his gag.
“Today, we temporarily satiate Huitzilopochtli’s thirst,” Hainisch said, “I dedicate this sacrifice in the name of the gods, so that they may gain the strength to continue the fight against evil. I ask them to aid us in the liberation of Cemanahuac from the infidels of the sunrise and sunset lands.”
He plunged the dagger into the missionary's chest and carved a bloody hole. The missionary struggled and screamed, but he was held in place by the chains and could do nothing as Hainisch tore his heart out and showed it to the camera.
“This is only the first of many sacrifices,” Hainisch said, “It was Huitzilopochtli’s grace which helped us take this great city of Zhumasi and deliver its many unbelievers into our hands. Next, we shall march on Tenochtitlan and Jinshan, and all will fall before us. We are on the right side of history. The gods are waking. We are their hand, and Zolin is their sword!”
Hofstadter Junior High School, Megarhevma - April 19, 2016, 12:30 PM (Imperial Standard Time)
Alex and the other students gasped and looked away in horror while Josh smirked.
“Brutal, huh?” he bragged. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Those Mexicans sure are crazy.”
“You shouldn’t be watching that!” a girl said.
“Why not?” Josh said. “It shows I’m not a coward. If anything, I’m more mature for it.”
He looked around the crowd, taking in the scared and horrified faces around him.
“What are you, cowards?” he said. “You all wanted to watch it a minute ago.”
“We weren’t expecting a frakking human sacrifice you dipscheiße!” another boy said.
“HEY!” A teacher stormed over and locked eyes with the boy. “Language!”
“But—” the boy said, pointing at Josh. “But he showed a—”
“Language!” the teacher repeated. “Or do you want detention?”
Josh covered his mouth and looked away, trying to hold back his laughter. The boy looked down and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Apologize to him,” the teacher said.
The boy reluctantly looked at Josh and mumbled an apology. Josh’s grin grew larger.
“Eye contact,” the teacher said, “And audible too.”
The boy made eye contact with Josh. “I’m sorry.”
Josh clapped his hands and began laughing uncontrollably, slapping the tabletop.
“Thank you,” he said, “Coward.”
He walked off, still laughing. The crowd dispersed, the students going back to their lunches and other activities. Alex walked into a hallway, trying to purge those images from his head. Manfred caught up to him.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Alex said, “I shouldn’t have watched that.”
“I agree,” Manfred said.
“He’s right, you know,” Alex said, “I’m a coward.”
“I don’t think you are,” Manfred said.
“How would you know?” Alex said.
“It’s not weakness to not watch that video,” Manfred said, “He just wants to trigger people. He wanted us to be horrified. He loves that. If anything, he’s the coward.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” Alex said.
“Alright, then,” Manfred said, “If you’re a coward, I’m a coward too. We’ll all be cowards. Nothing wrong with that.”
IU Pressburg
“Our world is in chaos,” Gertrude said, “The party cartel has dragged us into war after war after November 9. Its reaction to the recession of 2008 was to pay lip service to fixing it, because they benefit from it. We’ve all suffered while they profited off it. All while our world burns, not only as our air and water is filled with pollution and filth. Terrorists rampage in the New World, threatening our way of life. Don’t think you’re safe because you have an ocean in front of you.”
She paused for a moment.
“As you may know, a Roman citizen was brutally murdered yesterday, at the hands of those savage barbarians,” she said, “They held him down and cut out his heart, while everything was filmed on camera and uploaded to the Internet. A dreadful video. This is what we’re up against. This barbarity that the party cartel has unleashed upon the world. Those barbarians want nothing more than to destroy our way of life and impose a tyrannical fundamentalist dictatorship on us. They’re already doing it to Mexico and Fusang. They just took the great city of Zhumasi, in the Fusang heartland. Millions of freedom-loving Fusangren are being offered up as sacrifices or forced into slavery as we speak. We have nothing against the faith, but these barbarians have taken it to the extreme. All while the party cartel plays down and ignores this threat. Those sitting before me, I ask of you, what do you say to them?”
“ENOUGH!” the audience cried out.
“Yes, we must send them a message!” Gertrude said. “Tell them we will not tolerate their incompetence and indolence any longer! We must tell them, no more! No more ignorance! No more of the status quo which has failed us! We want real change! For the sake of our children and the planet they will grow up on, we need change now!”
The audience let out another roar of applause. Gertrude waved and walked backstage, where Elias embraced her.
“A stellar performance, as always,” Elias said.
“Anything for the cause,” Gertrude said, “How was the diagnosis?”
Elias gestured to his eyepatch. “Negative. They’re keeping a close...eye on it.”
Gertrude laughed. Elias paced around the room.
“If only they did the same for Ellie…” he said.
“Elias, dear, that was fifteen years ago,” Gertrude said, “What’s done is done. Focus on the task at hand. You’re close to closing the Argus deal.”
Elias sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. That was the past. We have a future to shape.”
Gertrude walked back and peered through the curtains, watching the audience file out.
“You think they agree with me?” Gertrude said.
“They were really enthusiastic, dear,” Elias said, “This isn’t Tel Aviv.”
“Well, we still have to go there,” Gertrude said.
They walked out the door and headed outside. Immediately, they noticed the crowd of people waiting outside, behind a line of police officers struggling to hold them and their signs back. Their cries filled the air.
“Say no to hate!”
“Remember the Golden Rule!”
“Romanitas, not Angelos!”
“No fascists in our Reich!”
Gertrude shook her head in frustration.
“Not again…” she said.
“Guess I spoke too soon,” Elias said, “These rabble-rousers never learn, do they?”
“Let’s pay them no attention,” Gertrude said.
They bowed their heads and continued walking straight ahead, where a car waited. The crowds surged forward, narrowing their path. Their shouts became more inquisitive and combative.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Don’t turn on your fellow women like this!”
“This is not what Jesus would do!”
“You’re a traitor!”
“Why do you support homophobes and Mexicaphobes?”
“This is un-Roman!”
“What are you going to do next, abolish the Augustinian Code?”
“The party cartel really hates us, don’t they?” Gertrude said.
“Why else would they send all these naive kids to annoy us with clearly false claims?” Elias said.
They got in the car and drove off.
“Glad that’s over,” Elias said, “Any ideas on how we should respond?”
“Don’t give them any attention,” Gertrude said, “Let them exercise their Augustinian Code rights while we exercise ours. If anything, it’ll give us more attention and make themselves look silly.”
“Isn’t that just great?” Elias said. “Now I have to call Emilio before he jumps the gun again. We’re not bin Laden.”
Huaxtepec - May 21, 2016, 2:32 PM (Mexico time)
Gunfire crackled in the distance, accompanied by the occasional thump and boom from a mortar shell and the crumbling of stone. General Gebhard Remmele stood at a table near his armored car, scrutinizing a map of Huaxtepec and the surrounding area and occasionally looking down the hill at the real city. Several counters denoting coalition and enemy troops were stacked across the map, while notes in both Nahuatl and German had been scribbled around the margins. He shook his head again. The numbers didn’t add up. He had only about twenty thousand men on hand, mostly Ollin’s troops, and Zolin had fifty thousand ocelomeh in the city. Coalition forces were outnumbered over two to one. Air support was lacking. Most of the bombers were tied up in the Yucatan or at Zhumasi. How did Fusang collapse that quickly? The ocelomeh had already begun marching up the coast to Jinshan, and the government had relocated to Hongzhou. The western campaign was a mess. His orders were to make sure the central Mexico campaign didn’t as well. He had a lot on his hands. He was the youngest Roman officer to have reached the rank of general, and he had been made supreme commander of all coalition forces in Mexico over many more experienced generals. Why did they choose him? Why was he here? The people back home counted on him to defend their nation and avenge November 9, but honestly, he now had no idea what he was doing.
Another car pulled up to the table, and General Huicton Ollin got out, flanked by two bodyguards. He was a clean-shaven man with graying hair, which was in contrast to the younger Gebhard’s mustache and black hair. The older Mexican general was also sturdier and with more chiseled features on his face as befitting of a long serving commander. Ollin walked over to the table and then looked at the city.
“So, General…” Ollin said. “Any ideas?”
“Don’t waste your time,” Gebhard said, “Zolin’s not here.”
“I know that,” Ollin said, “We still haven’t broken the encryption on his last video.”
“Tesla Dynamic’s working on it,” Gebhard said, “He can only hide from us for so long. Even Nochtli was found out eventually.”
Ollin didn’t answer. He planted both his hands on the table and looked down on the map, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Why are we even doing this?” he muttered. “Why are we even here? Why is it always my country and my people that get screwed over every single time?”
“Look, our Kaiser already gave an apology for the Sunrise Invasion, after your own apology for the Sunset Invasion,” Gebhard said, “We’re doing everything we can to help break the cycle.”
“No, not that,” Ollin said, “How did we even get here? What led to this moment? What caused all this suffering to happen?”
“The fall of PARA,” Gebhard said, “And the Reich not intervening until the Paulluists were well established.”
“It goes back further, you know,” Ollin said, “The instant the Vikings set foot in Cemanahuac, our two worlds were doomed to collide. The instant my ancestors captured them and forced them to share their technology, we started the cycle of death and destruction. The old Triple Alliance expanded by bloodshed, and there was only one way it could ever end, by bloodshed. After centuries of war, we’ve known no other way. We want to break the cycle, but we don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gebhard said, “Mexico’s contributed so much to the world.”
“Yeah, in the way of chocolate and corn,” Ollin said, his voice scornful, “While China invented guns and the Reich invented the Augustinian Code. What did we have? Macuahuitls and a bloodthirsty huetlatoani who ruled with an iron fist. We had to steal guns from the Tawantinsuyuans and horses from you. And now, in what might be poetic justice, we have to rely on the Reich to keep our own countrymen in line. And to think eight centuries ago we were rampaging through Europe. Look how far we’ve fallen since then.”
“It’s only temporary,” Gebhard said, “Until you can stand on your own.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Ollin said, “You’ve been here fifteen years and absolutely nothing has changed. The terrorists are still here, the government is still corrupt, and the people still die in the streets. That’s the legacy our ancestors and those Vikings left us. Death and suffering. Sometimes, I wonder what we would’ve become if we never found those Vikings.”
He looked up again, a new fire in his eyes.
“Let’s get those terrorists,” he said, “I want them to pay for what they’re doing to my country.”
Gebhard did a double-take at his colleague’s sudden change in temper.
“What?” he said.
“I don’t know if it’ll help,” Ollin said, “But it’s better than nothing. Zolin must be put down. I’m going to end him myself, for our people’s future.”