Prelude #2: The Alaskan Uprising
England had reverted to a giant pasture once more, America was occupied by King Martin Luther King, who had whites toiling in the royal cotton fields, and Australia had returned to being the Kangaroo Republic, a paradise for rare creatures. At last, the Korean Empire had transcended communism into capitalism, achieving peace, and I had become its Supreme Leader.
"General! It's a little general!"
? Why does the newborn have curly hair? A nightmare? It was a nightmare. I jolted awake from that horrific dream.
"Whether it's Kim Il-sung or Kim Jong-il, just try messing with me." Even Mao Zedong, carrying the aspirations of the Chinese people, was on my hit list for the sake of Korea's peace—no difference if you added a couple of fat pigs from the peninsula on top.
"Secretary General, Comrade!"
"?"
Thankfully, there was no curly-haired baby in the comrade's arms.
"A revolution has broken out in the Alaska Republic!"
"I knew it. What happens when you give them pirate rum, right?"
"No, it's not that..."
"Roll up some Total Leader sake right now! Why think only about output without input?"
"Comrade, Comrade. It's not a riot. I said it's a revolution."
"...A revolution?"
"Don't know where they came from, but the blacks are armed with rifles and mortars. They're invading Canada and Los Angeles. The British ambassador insists on seeing you as soon as you wake up."
A nightmare? Regrettably, no.
"Why start a revolution? No, how do you even pull off a revolution?"
To think on it: revolutions required a concentration of sufficient power for success. Weapons? Grab a stick nearby. But at this point, with not all ten million yet in Alaska, the odds of an armed black uprising succeeding there were, in his mind, 0%.
No chance of victory whatsoever.
"No chance of winning? What the hell do they even want?"
"What are you talking about?"
"?"
"It's not about odds. How badly must the whites have oppressed the blacks? They're just trying to stop more of them from getting dumped in Alaska like them."
Exactly.
"Why a revolution—I get that too... Secretary General Comrade, looks like you're not fully awake yet."
"..."
That comrade's cheeky nose, but he was right, so no comeback.
Yeah, does a revolution have to succeed? They do it anyway.
What the Secretary General didn't know was that deep in those abyssal depths, Trotsky had reorganized the blacks from the LA riots in Alaska. Armed with rifles and mortars imported from the Korean Empire via the First Russian Republic, they launched a true armed revolution.
"If those bastards think blacks are inferior, let's all rape white women together"—they'd crafted a truly horrific rape weapon, Comrade.
"This too is the 'commune.'"
Their goal: liberation of all blacks across the American continent.
"Oh, right. Secretary General Comrade, separate issue..."
"The Ottomans repelled the Bulgarian Principality, which had pushed to their capital. Fresh report. But casualties seem massive, and with Greece and Serbia still around, they're asking for help."
"Damn, they actually beat them."
"..."
"...?"
"..."
"Wait, they're asking us for help?"
"Yes, isn't it obvious? Would those equatorial puppets beg Russia, their backer? Or go to England or France, who side with that Russia?"
True enough.
"Germany or 'Korea,' but if they have brains, it'll be Korea."
That wasn't true.
"I have zero intention of sticking my head in the Balkans. If so, they've misjudged me badly."
"Is that so... Well, I thought it was a decent deal."
"What do you take human lives for, Comrade? We're already short on troops from the fever drills."
"Then we'll shelve that proposal to send our army to occupy Basra and Mosul in Iraq."
.
.
.
"What? Wait, where? Occupy what?"
"Yes? Basra and Mosul. Around Baghdad, you know. Where we built those freezers last time."
"Mobilize the allied forces."
"Pardon?"
"Bulgaria, Greece, Serbia—make all the rowdy bastards cough up tribute, then bring Iraqi oil right in front of me. If troops are short, drag the Japanese along."
The former Sultan really figured out tractors run on oil. Hitting me with an offer I couldn't refuse.
No need to mention the Japanese cabinet pawning the Emperor's residence for wartime budget cuts after hearing my pitch.
We needed that oil. Korea's growth was monstrous—even amid global depression, never dipping below 10%—but oil poured on made it monstrously more so.
Mainly, oil consumption skyrocketed.
"Use coal wherever you can!"
"That's the current state."
"Tsk."
Most oil in Korea went to fuel. Cut shipping volume, cut oil use—but that tanks the country.
Shipping volume can only grow, never shrink.
"Why the sudden spike? Can't we just stick to horse carts?"
"You're joking, right? You banned horse carts in the cities over manure, Comrade."
Right! That was me! For hygiene, no carts in the capital—yours truly.
"Maybe rickshaws?"
"Joking, right?"
Yeah, joke. Rickshaws in Korea? Too much. We have seolleongtang, but no kimchemji.
"We need oil!"
"Release the reserves?"
I tuned out the comrade's unfunny remark, eyes on oil from beyond—that Arabian oil.
Korea needs oil. That oil.
War was war in name, but basically an oil fight. Oil for war, war for oil.
Problem: unlike Iraq, that place was squarely in Britain's sphere. Britain—nothing you try without Britain meddling. Punch anyone, Britain's the culprit.
Come to think, the Alaska thing left Britain salty with me. No, wait—blacks riot or not, Alaska wasn't my problem.
Sell to America? If it sells, great. Alaska, blacks—I wanted shot of them all.
Alaska's rich crude? Buy it with money.
Comrades prospecting Siberia said it wasn't for them.
'Britain there?'
'Yes.'
'You buying Alaska too?'
'Pardon?'
'We need oil. Swap Alaska for the Arabian Peninsula? I recall Russia dumped Alaska on America to spite Britain.'
'Still a bad deal for us. You control it now?'
'Ah, figured. What if all ten million migrate there soon?'
'Not the 'number' of blacks. Fine, trim if scales don't balance. Arabian oil, right—not Arivaa?'
'Yes.'
'Promise no meddling with our revolutionaries there, and we'll swap Alaska for Trucial Oman. Oil galore. Deal now, we'll pipe it.'
'Done!'
In exchange for turning a blind eye while Britain cleans up Alaska's revolutionaries—black molecules—I grabbed Arabian oil.
America would rage at Alaska going to Canada, but if they wanna bitch, pay up the oil I demanded first.
America won't give, Britain does? No comeback.
America gets oil's importance, so whine all they want—contract's clean, I whispered.
Should've read the fine print. Nowhere says resell only to America.
I just dealt: blacks riot or not, I can move millions of U.S. blacks to Sudan.
Unlike Alaska, takes time but doable.
Sadly, America—paddled hard on the ass—wanted to rage at Korea but couldn't deny needing us to deport blacks to the other side of the globe.
Once pondered shipping to Haiti, but those black traitors would swim back to Florida.
Still, payback Alaska grudge. Wreck it thoroughly.
'We'll settle later.'
'Spare us.'
Thus began the sticky, uncomfortable Korean-American cohabitation.
"Blacks awaiting shipment from LA sparked an armed revolution."
"Mexico deployed troops to the border! 'No troops on the border,' they say?"
America's emperor might flip tables, but after Korea sold Alaska to Canada, Trotsky figured the Secretary General knew of his backers.
So he popped champagne early.
'Hm, he's spooked.'
The Secretary General Comrade knew Trotsky was human enough to spook.
By the time they realized, danger would be chin-high.
But fine. Dismantling white families, blacks stuffing whites into their communes to breed them black.
Irreversible. No turning back.
Blacks had no attachment to America trying to boot them off the continent.
Just filling America with blacks.
Secretary General selling Alaska to Canada? Obvious.
'''Revolution is unstoppable.'''