The Republic Shudders: An Alternate 1932
"We're in the money,
We're in the money;
We've got a lot of what it takes to get along!
We're in the money,
The sky is sunny;
Old Man Depression, you are through,
You done us wrong!"
Gold Diggers of 1933
Amidst the desolate plains of Oklahoma, not far from the homestead of Curly and Laurey McClain, there was a terrible dust cloud. Dust clouds were common in these parts, but this dust cloud was so dark and terrible and desolate it resembled a black hole. All animal life had fled from the dust cloud in terror, running so far until they could not sense it. What little plant life that had lived beneath the dust cloud had shriveled up into nothing. There was a trio who dared brave the dust cloud, for they had no other choice. Three goddesses- Liberty, Justice, and Columbia, dressed in war robes, approached the cloud. Liberty, dressed in green, held in one hand a sword and in another a lit torch. Justice, plated in armor, held a shield and a terrible swift sword. Her scales were tied to her belt, for she had already weighed the evidence today. Columbia, wearing a wreath, held a sharp pointed scepter in her right hand. Her gown was red, white and blue, like the American flag, and above her wreath she wore a phrygian cap of the same colors.
The goddesses, appointed by Heaven as the divine guardians of the United States, had come to do battle with a wicked demon who was devouring the life force of the nation. This demon, a lanky, dirty giant, stood in the center of the dust cloud, his arms wide open, laughing. The man had a terrible filthy white beard, from which crawled hellish deformed maggots. He held a cane in one hand, and his head was grotesque and bald, with only a few white hairs covering his deformed, moldy skin. His teeth were black and decaying, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was dressed in immeasurably filthy rags. He was barefoot, and his toes were shaped like red, bleeding claws, with sharp yellow unshorn toenails. The demon emitted a deep stinky smell, like that of a thousand skunks rolled together. The outline of his face, though deformed and rotten, appeared familiar to the goddesses- he looked like a corrupted version of Uncle Sam. This creature was Old Man Depression, the divine personification of the Great Depression which was sweeping the United States.
The old man turned his head and sneered at the goddesses. "Look at these goddamn bimbos. You think you stand a chance against me? What do you represent? Some made up vague bullshit ideas? You are not but powerless dreams- your grip upon this world is weak and feeble, your strength built upon vague and empty promises not even believed by the men who first uttered them. Yes, I know who you bitches are- next to me you are just wisps of fairy dust easily blown away by the wind. For I am the apotheosis of something that is real and hard- as hard as rock, something true enmeshed in the very dirt of this country. I am the hunger that torments the stomachs of tens of millions of children. I am the fear in the heart of every mother. I am the bleak despair and hopelessness which consumes the essence of countless men. I am the poverty that infects every corner of this country, the pitiful shantytowns of the desolate which grow more numerous by the day. I am the desolation which spreads across the land. This isn't even a fair fight. I will crush you and then make you my concubines as I have done to Oothoon. This will be no contest." The demigod projected terrible visions into the minds of the goddesses- men in blue shirts marching on the front lawn of the White House, great cities burning, crowds being lined up against walls for execution. "My victory over you is ordained. Submit to slavery and you may yet live."
Liberty, Justice and Columbia charged together at the demon, their swords held outright, pointed towards the old man, aimed to kill. Depression laughed and snorted, baring his black teeth at the trio. A foul dusty breeze elevated him through the air just as the goddesses reached the spot where he was standing. Depression looked down from a gray cloud, safely above his assailants. Depression blew his nose and an enormous wave of dark green snot fell upon the faces of the goddesses, blinding Liberty and Columbia. Justice, however, had no need of sight. The old man smelled, and Justice could sense his presence in the air. She flew up into the sky, rapidly twirling her sword. Depression opened his hand and let loose upon Justice a line of flame. Justice cried out as the fire reached her flesh and she paused to put out the fire. Depression pulled out a dagger and rapidly flew to Justice, aiming to cut her throat. Liberty, however, had wiped the snot from her face and had risen into the air to face Depression, her sword clashing with Depression's dagger. She pushed her torch into Depression's face. Unlike the flame Depression had shot at Justice, which smelt of the stench of corruption, the flame upon Liberty's torch was bright, pure, and uncompromising. Depression yelped at the torch and jumped back into a cloud, which he transformed into a foul acid rain which put out the flames upon his face. Liberty shot a lightning bolt at Depression, who returned the lighting bolt in kind, and a great clap of thunder burst across the plains. Curly McClain looked out his window and saw a great fire in the sky. God must be angry, he thought idly.
The goddess Columbia jumped at Depression from below his cloud, piercing the sole of his foot with her scepter. Depression yelped as the tip of Columbia's golden scepter emerged from the top of his foot. He hurriedly blasted several lightning bolts at the plains below him, shocking Columbia, who ignored the pain and withdrew her scepter from Depression's foot, aiming again at his leg. Depression reached out with his gray decaying hand, his fingers changing into sharp black blades. He grabbed Columbia's head as her scepter pierced his leg. Depression's blade-like fingers pierced through Columbia's skin, and Columbia grit her teeth as Depression's hand went deeper into her flesh and pierced her skull. Jets of golden ichor gushed out from Columbia's head as Depression waved Columbia around like a rag doll. Depression used his other arm to rip Columbia's scepter out of his leg, though Columbia's hand maintained the scepter's grip. Liberty and Justice raced towards the demon to free their comrade, holding their swords back as they readied themselves to cut off Depression's arm. Depression withdrew his hand from the head of Columbia, as Columbia's wreath and cap fell from her head to the earth below. Depression spat out a cloud of filthy dust at Liberty and Justice, blowing the goddesses backwards, as Depression morphed his forearms into spiked clubs. The gods shot more lightning bolts at each other as they charged across the orange and gray sky. Depression's club-arms clashed against the swords of Liberty and Justice, creating great sparks of electricity. Depression pushed down harder upon these blades. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, which was black and hairy. The tongue grew longer and longer, longer than Depression's head, and the end of his tongue sharpened into a black spike pointed towards the head of Justice.
Liberty, seeing the threat to her companion, blasted a flame from her torch towards the great extended tongue. Depression drew back his tongue into his mouth, and winced as Liberty aimed another blast of flame towards his face. Depression flew backwards again as Justice shot more lightning bolts in his direction. Liberty and Justice then moved to hold the arms of Columbia. Columbia was hanging weakly in the sky, alive but barely mobile. Liberty hugged Columbia and let her fall into her arms.
Justice flew in the direction of Depression, blasting lightning bolts to prevent him from reaching Columbia. Justice and Depression continued to blast lightning bolts which clashed with each other, sending thundering booms across the prairie. Justice turned her head towards the direction of Liberty. "It is not the will of Providence that we achieve victory over our foe this day. He is a powerful enemy who will not be defeated in a single battle. We must withdraw from the battlefield, for no gain will be made here. Old Man Depression draws his strength from the Earth, but even in the sky we cannot defeat him."
Liberty hugged Columbia tightly. "Columbia lives still. But we must seek aid for her soon, or she will not live much longer. She will be out of commission for some time. We must retreat now!" Liberty held her torch above her head. The torch emitted a great white light over the Oklahoma plains, a light blasted across the whole sky. Old Man Depression shut his eyes and covered his brow with his arm. When he opened his eyes, the sky had faded into gray again- the light was gone, and the goddesses with it.
Gathering of the Gods
It was at a college football game between Pimento University and Huxley College that Liberty and Justice went looking for help from a higher power. The two goddesses had disguised themselves as mortals, wearing white skirts and bucket hats. Justice wore sunglasses instead of a blindfold. They walked arm in arm across the bleachers, ignoring the cheering throngs of college students and the intense looks the young men gave them. The spectators did not recognize the pair to whom they had praised every day in school as children when swearing allegiance to the flag. They did notice they were rather striking young women- their beauty hypnotic.
The age of Gods was thought by mortals to have passed. The twentieth century was the age of machines, of diesel and electricity, of dynamite and airplanes, of radios and movie theaters. Churches were still packed with worshippers of the almighty, the one above all, but interest and knowledge of the old gods had faded away. The Gods the men of the modern age revered were not recognized as such. This did not mean, however, that the old gods were gone. Weakened manifestations of the pagan gods of old still walked among mortals, bereft of worship but enduring nevertheless. Not all of the Gods were in this reduced strength- some still possessed great power. These powerful gods walked openly among mortals, who were none the wiser regarding the true nature of these beings. In the modern age, they often took the form of fools and tricksters, mocking the ignorance of the mortals who could not discern their divinity.
This football game was one such occasion. Huxley College had fallen under the control of Professor Quincy Wagstaff, who was a demigod in disguise. He and his brothers- the Sons of Eris, goddess of Discord- traveled frequently and assumed multiple identities, spreading havoc across the world for their own amusement. They did not try particularly hard to seem serious or convincing in their fabricated identities; and they never changed their faces. Yet no mortal, however enraged or irritated, was able to realize their real identities. A divine mist confused their minds and kept them from seeing clearly. Liberty and Justice did not remember their true names either- they were only lesser demigods- except that the blond mute was known as Harpocrates in Egypt.
Playing for the opposing team- Pimento University- was another set of demigod brothers. These three brothers were Jews, born from an affair Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, had with one of the Wise Men of Chelm. These brothers had inherited from their mortal father, who had immigrated to the United States, a propensity for foolishness and clumsiness. They too, like the Sons of Discord, traveled frequently and took many odd jobs- their divine nature allowed them to be in several places at once. The brothers were too foolish to even change their names when they assumed new identities. Yet the mist protected them from discovery by mortals all the same. The trio, despite having no academic qualifications, had somehow stumbled their way into playing for a college football team. Professor Wagstaff, amused that his brothers were facing off against another clan of trickster demigods, had asked his uncle Hermes to spread word of the football match to all the other gods. While the bleachers were packed with mortals, there was a scattering of gods amidst the crowd.
The Three Horsemen of Pimento University stumbled and screamed as Wagstaff and his men approached them. "Keep calm you knuckleheads!" their leader declared before gulping and running in the opposite direction himself. Liberty and Justice paid little attention to the game. They had consulted with Wagstaff regarding a certain political issue, but the professor had only offered silly nonsensical advice. Instead, they sought the aid of a being more powerful than these silly demigods. They walked towards the end of the bleachers. Sprawled on the front bleacher was a funny little man wearing a bowler hat and an ill fitting, raggedy black jacket. The man had a funny toothbrush mustache and appeared to be napping, paying no attention to the game. The spots in the bleachers surrounding him were empty- he somehow had avoided attention.
"This form resembles that of a man Columbia once knew," Liberty whispered to Justice. "When she worked as the spirit of Manifest Destiny, she discovered this odd fellow in Alaska, during the Klondike Gold Rush- a very odd fellow- who she has seen in odd places since. He is some sort of traveling demigod, like the ones who invited us here today, who has led many different lives in many different places. He is some sort of spirit of the dispossessed and the downtrodden, a nameless totem of the vagrants. It is his people who have been most hurt by this dreadful depression. He has won victories for his people before, triumphing over terrible Goliaths in small, subtle ways. He is not a spirit who wins great conquests on the field of battle. But since a fully armed war party cannot confront Old Man Depression directly, perhaps he is what we need."
"I cannot observe his true form," Justice said, gesturing vaguely in the vagrant's direction, "but I sense he is weak, desperate, and unfocused. I know we cannot defeat Depression on the battlefield. Still, should we not recruit a God of greater strength? I know the specter of communism has an interest in assembling the huddled masses into an empowered force."
"That spirit cannot be trusted- in the end he would prove hostile to our purposes. Besides, that ghost does an awful lot of haunting, but in this country he has little material presence. Ironic, given his dialectical materialism that he's mostly ethereal. He can only remain a ghost in this country, and not take a powerful physical form as he did in Russia. Admittedly, the Invisible Hand of the Market has failed us- and you know how he refused to take responsibility for the birth of Old Man Depression. Anyway, Communism cannot become vigorous enough to defeat Depression."
"And this little creature can? Do you sense some reservoir of strength I do not detect?"
"According to the oracle a man of this form will achieve great victories over his foes. Destiny has chosen him for some great purpose. Let us see if he recognizes us for what we are." Liberty gently shook the sleeping vagrant. "Yoohoo! Wake up good sir!" The vagrant opened his eyes and looked at Liberty. He jumped upwards and tried to stand on the bleacher, but quickly tripped and stumbled, collapsing onto the ground.
"Sir, have you heard that the Olympian Gods have recently relocated? This new tower in New York City- the Empire State Building, constructed by mortals, has become the home of the new Olympus. Apparently, the Daleks were also involved. The dream of the Tower of Babel has been realized at last- the mortals have finally reached the heavens!"
A referee blew a whistle, and the crowd of students started shouting as the football game paused. The vagrant turned towards Liberty, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. He did not speak.
"Great," Justice declared. "He is a mute just like Harpocrates. It is pointless to try communicating with him."
"We know you are not who you appear to be. We have a job for you- a task that few others can do." We must know what you are truly capable of. Can you save this country from ruin?
The vagrant continued to stare blankly, apparently unreceptive to Liberty's telepathy.
What is your true name, little fellow? What power do you serve? Justice attempted to penetrate the vagrant's mind. Destiny calls, will you answer?
The vagrant sighed and waved at the two goddesses dismissively. "Yes, I'm traveling in disguise. I've borrowed this form from another being, temporarily. I am a trickster god- a manifestation of Loki. I don't think I can help you."
"Loki is but another false face that you wear. You have many of these faces, but I sense your true nature is more powerful. You are not the American manifestation of Loki. You are something else," said Liberty. "You resist our inquiries- you do not want us to know who you are."
"I can sense it now. He is a manifestation of the archangel Gabriel. A weak manifestation, perhaps, a cheap copy," Justice declared. "He should be beside the throne of Heaven, not imitating a lesser aspect of a malicious pagan deity. Is not the true Loki bound in chains to a rock exposed to snake venom for the murder of his brother? Why would an angel assume his role? The form of the vagrant- the angels took the form of travelers in the Bible. Taking on the personality of Loki- I think you are a fool's Gabriel."
"Can you say which Gabriel is the true Gabriel? In every land that worships God, I have a different manifestation. I am the Gabriel of the United States, there is a Gabriel in Britain and France and Pooka Pooka. In Kahndaq and Qumar and Egypt there are Jibreels. Across this world, there are many Gabriels. On other planets, there are even more Gabriels. Who are you to say that we are false? Are you not just a lesser American manifestation of Justice, and not the true, original Justice? By your own standard, are you not a false Justice? A Justice tainted by bigotry and hypocrisy? A Justice who has yet to slay the wicked demon Jim Crow in battle? You spoke of the Olympians in New York City- are they even the true Olympians? Perhaps we are all true Gabriels, and God in His wisdom saw fit to distribute us across the world."
"But you are not fulfilling the role selected for you by Heaven- you have abandoned your path. You are not reaching your full potential."
"I disagreed with Heaven's agenda. They wanted me to join a war I wished for no part in."
"Perhaps," Liberty smiled, "you did not really abandon Heaven's will. Perhaps you were meant to be where you are so we could find you here and persuade you to join our cause. The orthodox method of doing things has failed. Perhaps we need an unorthodox divinity to win this war. We seek a power that can permanently conquer Old Man Depression. We have faced him in the field of battle, to no avail. I understand now that we need an angel to work a great miracle to defeat him."
"You thought you could defeat him on the battlefield?" The vagrant snorted. "Old Man Depression cannot be killed with a single blow. He must be weakened first- the unemployed given jobs, the destitute given relief, the banks stabilized. I can work some miracles, yes- but defeating Depression requires work be done by the American people first, before the divine powers can attack him directly."
"As if there's any chance of that happening," snapped Justice. "There is no will for any action in the government. Congress is feckless, and the President- bah!- the President is an active hindrance. Judson Hammond is corrupt and indifferent to the pleas of the people. Fascism grows more powerful by the day. Hammond will continue to let this nation fall into utter ruin, and then some demagogue will wipe the republic away."
"An election is coming soon. Hammond could be replaced."
"It would take a great talent to maneuver through these dark waters. Wintergreen stormed the White House and declared himself dictator before he lost his nerve. But there are other would-be despots who are more clever and determined than he. I do not think a new President could last against him. Prophecy has ordained a Second American Civil War, and the abolition of the republic by a tyrant."
"And you won't stop it?" asked the vagrant.
"We are limited in how we can intervene. America is supposed to be a democracy, we cannot impose our will upon the nation against the wishes of the people. Every day Old Man Depression's power weakens that of the Republic. Only the mortals in the American government can defeat him, but I do not think they are capable of doing so," replied Justice. "It's a dreadful conundrum."
"We can't do it by ourselves Gabriel," said Liberty. "That is why we need you."
"Could not a wizard cast an imperius spell on the President? Could you not find some wielder of magic to do your bidding?" asked the vagrant.
"The White House has defensive enchantments placed upon it which prevent the use of such magical spells. Breaking these enchantments would require breaking the security of the American government altogether." Liberty paused. "There is a dark wizard in Europe afoot- Grindelwald, an apprentice of Heinrich Kemmler- who would take advantage of such a scenario. He would be able to quickly detect it and then launch an attempted takeover of the United States. If he seized control of the magical government after we removed the defensive enchantments- he could impose a fascist despotism on this country very quickly. The Gods have supported the magical statue of secrecy to prevent a magical arms race from bringing ruin to the world. It has always been our policy to keep magic separate from mundane affairs. What you are suggesting would break this policy irrevocably. We would not trust human wizards to carry out such a coup in any case."
"We would have to intervene to change the behavior of the government, I think, to stop the Depression. Hammond isn't the sort of man who is open to improvement or change. Yet to implement the policies necessary to end the Depression, Hammond must change- but how? You've ruled out the use of imperius." The vagrant rested his head on his left arm. "Well there is a way of doing it- I'd have to break some rules. I think I'd have to do it personally- my powers of disguise are powerful enough nobody else would notice. I've never been much of an American patriot- but I'm the only one who can save Old Glory, apparently. I'll do it- but I'll do it my way."
The Mysterious Double Cross
Nick Carter puffed on his cigar as he put down his newspaper on his desk. Above the newspaper fold, across from the story entitled KLOPSTOKIA SWEEPS THE OLYMPICS was a story regarding the conscription of the unemployed into the new Army of Construction. The President had formed the Army of Construction out of Bronson's Army, a march of unemployed workers who had threatened to overrun Washington. Hammond had somehow brought these men over to his side, making them the center of his economic relief programs. The President's sudden political vigorousness had engendered the interest of a potential client. Carter shook his head. "Mr. Wolfsheim, I've been in this business since 1886, since the days of Sherlock Holmes." No need to tell him about the magical portrait in the attic keeping me youthful. "I have more experience than any other practicing detective. So believe me when I tell you- if you go out to Sam Spade in San Francisco or Charlie Chan in Honolulu, or any other detective in New York, they'll give you the same answer- this is not a case that can be solved. Or at least, nobody can give you an honest answer that will satisfy you. Nobody can prove a conspiracy because there isn't one. I can't take the case."
Meyer Wolfsheim fumed with rage. "But that's impossible. I owned Hammond- who the hell do you think bought him the Republican nomination? I know what sort of man he is- a mediocre, greedy, disinterested pencil-pusher without any particular talents or smarts. His passions are women, money, and liquor- he has never been a man of any strong beliefs or ideology. He has not the wherewithal or ambition to mount such drastic changes on his own initiative. I can't even get a meeting with him now- and his nationalization of liquor is cutting into my business. My wine business, of course, which is permitted under the Volstead Act. Somebody must be pulling the strings! Fu Manchu- I bet he's blackmailing Hammond."
"The Chinese and Jews competing for control of the country? I jest, of course. You know I normally don't accept cases from men like you-"
"You mean Jews?"
"No, no, I mean men of your profession. But I will tell you this, free of charge. I understand that your peers in the business, of all religions and nationalities, had an informal agreement with Hammond that he has now revoked. You are having trouble understanding the President's actions because you assume that the President shares the motivations and way of thinking of everyone else in your business. You fail to consider that the President is acting out of genuine conviction. He is not being blackmailed or bribed or manipulated- he has rejected all bribes and manipulations. He nearly died in a car crash recently- and closeness to death can change your perspective. This country is in a dire state, Mr. Wolfsheim. I think Hammond has realized how dangerous his indifference and inaction had seems to have found religion after his accident- he fears God now. If he stayed your man, Mr. Wolfsheim, how would history remember him? How would God judge him? He would go down as the worst President in American history, the man who brought the republic to the brink of collapse. In a moment of clarity, he decided he would not continue down this path. Perhaps as you say, he is a weak, disparate man. But many great men were of poor character before greatness was thrust upon them. President Ajax was a drunkard who took bad advice from bad friends. And yet it was he, during his days in the Army, who turned the tide against the Confederacy and allowed the Union to endure. I can't say I approve of all his actions- dissolving Congress, suspending the Constitution, acting as if he were a dictator. But the President is doing these things because he believes it is the right thing to do- and for no other reason."
Meyer Wolfsheim shook his head. "It was a mistake to seek out a private investigator for what is essentially a political problem. I tried to curry favor with the press, persuade some old friends to bankroll a smear campaign against Hammond. But Charles Foster Kane supports the President's line completely, and the other newspaper publishers are too scared of government retaliation to mount a serious investigation into the White House. If I were to give you information about the President's prior foibles, perhaps you could uncover some unflattering information I could use." Maybe I should spray machine gun bullets on the front step of the White House, like Nick Diamond suggested. No, that's suicidal, a very bad move.
"Sorry, I'm not interested. Last time I checked, there's still a presidential election scheduled for this year. If you don't like the President, go vote for one of the other guys."
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
"The Republican Party has returned to their roots of federal tyranny. Judson Hammond has thrown out the Constitution and is threatening to destroy our way of life. We must resist this northern aggression until our last breath! The South's freedoms must be preserved, by force if necessary!" cried a voice over the radio in a deep southern accent.
Governor Willie Stark chuckled at Congressman Beauregard Claghorn's rant. Stark heard a knock at his office door. Stark got up from his desk, turned off the radio, and opened the door. Jack Burden, his political advisor, entered with a stack of papers. "I just received this message from the Secretary of State. It's the list of all the presidential candidates requesting to be on the ballot this year that you requested. We have a few unusual items we need to decide what to do with, sir."
"Oh, this should be interesting."
"I reminded the Secretary of State he was not to take any action without your prior approval, sir. The Democrats are running this year on the Prosperity Party ticket. Their presidential candidate is Theodore Blair and his running mate is Senator Charles Wylie."
"The Prosperity Party! Ha! They're just a bunch of northern fat cats. What do they know about the problems of the people? We'll play along with Mr. Blair until I run in 1936."
"Do you want them on the ballot?"
"Yeah."
"What about Judson Hammond? The Republicans are running on the National Party ticket again. Should we keep them off the ballot in retaliation for Hammond becoming a dictator?"
"Naw. It's not worth starting that fight with the administration. Hammond's not going to win Louisiana anyway, no point antagonizing him."
"That's what I expected, sir. Where it gets funny is the minor party candidates. The Socialist Party has nominated Miss Betty Boop for President and Seneca Doane for Vice President. Doane is a socialist lawyer from the city of Zenith- a perennial gadfly. Miss Boop is a celebrity of sorts, but she seems to have no profession- she is a flapper, a woman of the night. There's no law that says a woman can't be President, but still, odd. Anyway, Miss Boop is under the age of thirty five and is thus constitutionally ineligible for the presidency. But it gets stranger. You've heard of this kid, Rufus T. Jones? These negro radicals put up a seven-year old child as their candidate for President- he's a mascot of sorts. A figurehead calling for the abolition of Jim Crow, reparations for slavery, and full racial equality. They nominated a child to make a mockery of the American electoral system which they oppose. His running mate is Dr. Bledsoe, the negro college president, who apparently was selected without his knowledge or consent."
"A black candidate for President?" Stark laughed again. "I'm sure the Knights of Nordica and the Brotherhood of Knaves will be ecstatic."
"Finally, the Communist Party has nominated a Mr. Nobody for President. That is not a pseudonym- they have nominated nobody, as in they did not nominate a real candidate, and instead nominated the concept of nobody. Apparently, this is a commentary on how nobody- none of the real candidates that is- is capable of resolving the Depression."
"Obviously, these minor candidates aren't constitutionally eligible. But this country is basically a dictatorship now. I don't even know if the government will accept the upcoming elections for Congress as valid, or whether the legislature is permanently dissolved. The President no longer accepts the Constitution as law, I don't see why we should either. Approve all of these queer candidates. Our system deserves to be mocked by their presence on the ballot."
Washington D.C
The President sat behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office, reviewing proposed plans for the creation of a new air force- a fleet of planes so powerful it would grant the United States unparalleled dominion over the Earth's skies. The design for the plane the President was looking at was far more advanced than any other plane in use. It rightfully belonged to a civilization far greater and more powerful than that of industrial age Earth. The President was surprised how easy it had been to seize absolute power. Now that he had achieved so much, why not go further? Why not impose his will on the whole Earth? Why not make America the policeman of the Earth, and abolish war and tyranny altogether? Was this not the reason Heaven had ordained the creation of the United States in the first place? No human inventor was yet knowledgeable enough to have drafted the plans for this aircraft- so the President had drawn it himself. It was with this aircraft that the President would create a permanent peace on Earth.
A gust of wind swept through the oval office, blowing the designs out of the President's hands. Suddenly, there appeared in front of his desk, a tall, stately figure dressed in white robes. His robe bore the emblem of a dragon, and his eyes were black with sparks of red. His features were sculpted better than any statue.
"Gabriel, child of heaven, you have broken the divine laws that govern the universe. I have come here to deliver justice upon you."
"I- I don't know how you got in here, but you must be mistaken. I am Judson Hammond- President of the United States."
"Seeking to trick me is useless, Gabriel. I can see your true nature. For I am the Great Jinjin, Tititi Hoochoo. Surely you must know me. I have been elected by the fairies to rule over them, and in my capacity as Great Jinjin it is my responsibility to enforce the laws of magic and heaven. I am the supreme arbitrator, and you cannot defy my will."
"I sit at the left hand of God, and you think you can threaten me?"
"The One Above All has granted me authority to impose justice upon rogue angels. Even you are not immune, and you are not even Gabriel in his true form- you are but a fallen, lesser Gabriel. Only the One Above All escapes my judgment- and you are not He."
"It was Justice who asked me to take on this role! The divinely appointed protectors of this nation asked me for help!"
Tititi-Hoochoo frowned sternly. "In days past, angels have influenced the behavior of human kings. But that power was consigned to whispers, hints, and omens. Even in the rare occasions that gods and angels revealed themselves directly to the rulers of nations; the commands they gave were not forced upon the kings of men. The kings were made to understand the consequences if they disobeyed- but they retained free will. You were asked to influence Judson Hammond's conduct in office. Even that was only one possible option in defeating Old Man Depression. You chose to possess the body of the President and seize power yourself on your own initiative. You have replaced him entirely- Judson Hammond should have died in that car accident, which I understand you arranged. His soul only remains in his body because you keep it there- you dominate him completely, he has no will left of his own.
I know you are capable of assuming other forms- and you could have assumed the form of Hammond. You kept the President alive so that magic could not detect that he had really been replaced. But you could not hide your true nature forever. It so happened that construction of the Trans-Atlantic Tunnel- how the humans got technology that advanced is matter for another investigation- disturbed an opening, a chute which leads to my Kingdom."
"Oh you live somewhere beneath the ocean floor?" the President said mockingly. "Where is your fairy kingdom anyway- Pellucidar? The Lower Elements? Another dimension? You have never displayed much interest in the affairs of mortals before."
"This disturbance caused me to investigate the construction of the tunnel, and the governments sponsoring it. And that is how I came to you. You provided for the construction of the tunnel. This tunnel impinges on the sovereignty of the peoples of Atlantis, and I will cooperate with them to see that it is removed. But the more pressing matter is you, Gabriel. You know the laws of Heaven- the agreement between the One Above All and the forces of darkness. The divine may not set themselves up as heavenly rulers. Jesus could have been King on Earth, assumed the throne of Rome, but He did not do so. You are not exempt from these laws."
"Gods have ruled as kings before. In China there was the Yellow Emperor. Did not Rama rule over Kosala? In Mesopotamia, before the flood there was Dumuzid and the line of Alulim. Kings with lifespans far greater than any mortal. I don't rule as myself openly- their knowledge of the divine is limited in this day and age. But what I am doing is not without precedent."
The Great Jinjin shook his head. "They were kings of great power, and they were worshiped as Gods. A few even possessed a spark of the divine. But they were not fully divine, as you are. You are a being of the highest Heaven, servant of the One Above All, in a human vessel. Besides, you know the rules have become much stricter since the days of yore. There is great, immense power in creation- and use of that power is strictly regulated. Even the Ellimist and Crayak have agreed to such a pact. You are bound by this pact, and you know the terms. There is a delicate balance which prevents all out war between the forces of light and darkness. If we were to unleash all our powers, the Enemy could unleash their powers in turn. The realm of mortals, the material world, could be utterly destroyed. The Black Thing could consume the entire universe. In fact, in breaking this pact, you have granted a great gift to the forces of Hell. You see, once they discover that Heaven has broken the pact, they will be allowed to break the pact in turn. You have invited the apocalypse. The rules of the pact stipulate that two creatures will battle each other on the material plain- a Creature of Light and a Creature of Darkness. The current Creature of Darkness is a man named Justin Crowe. If you remain in your current position, Crowe will be able to call upon the forces of Hell to empower himself in turn- which would mean a full scale demonic invasion. There would be a full and open war." Tititi-Hoochoo grabbed Gabriel by the arm. "Look into the future, Gabriel. See what you have wrought."
The Oval Office disappeared. The President and the Great JinJin stood in the midst of the Great Plains. The sky was blood-red. The President saw two enormous holes, great gaping whirlpools of darkness, one in the sky, and one opening in the Earth. A man in a minister outfit- Justin Crowe- stood next to the giant Old Man Depression, who was laughing hysterically. Monstrous abominations were crawling out of the holes- lesser demons and beings resembling the Great Old Ones. The President saw great armies of monsters and evil gods just beyond the entrance to Hell, their measure beyond counting, ready to invade the United States. Their power and number was so great the President could tell that they could easily destroy the Earth, and the many worlds beyond. The President could sense that the normal physical dimensions on Earth had been warped- everything had a dreamlike, distorted quality. But this was no dream- the President had not fallen into that state of mental looseness which accompanies a journey into the dream realm. The President felt fully awake.
Tititi-Hoochoo let go of the President's arm, and the vision vanished. The President and the Great Jinjin had returned to the Oval Office.
"That is what will happen if Hell discovers that an angel is President of the United States." Tititi-Hoochoo declared. "To prevent this future, you must vacate this vessel and allow the mortals to resume control over their own affairs."
"There remains the demon Depression. He threatens the survival of this nation. If I depart now, this nation will fall into chaos. The promise of America will be broken, and Hell will eventually triumph in any case. You can't just expect me to leave just like that."
"Yes, you've made quite a mess of things, taking such importance onto yourself. I will not make you leave this form, today. There is an election this year, no?"
"There is a presidential election in the United States every four years- I was planning on winning this election, allowing the will of the people to ratify what I have been doing as President."
"You intended on rigging the election, no doubt. You must allow yourself to lose this election. You have installed yourself not just as a ruler, but as a tyrant. You have broken the rules of this democratic republic, the holy covenant that forbids absolute despotism. There will be men who try to imitate you. You must lose this election resoundingly, to show that the American people will reject dictatorship. In the meantime, you must allow Congress and the Supreme Court to reassemble and return to them their full constitutional powers. You must restore the Constitution."
"I have not actually suspended the Constitution-"
"You have, in all but name. Once you have restored the natural order of things, somebody else will win the presidency. You will depart this form at the end of your term and allow Judson Hammond to die. This will prevent the immediate onslaught of the Apocalypse that I showed to you. However, you must understand this will not restore the pact between Heaven and Hell. Before you came here, you wore the form of the Tramp- a form that was not yours to begin with. There is another man who wears that form in Europe, who is backed by the powers of darkness. Your little escapade in Washington will allow that man to draw upon his supernatural backers to seize power. Hell will eventually discover that an angel was President of the United States. They will thus be able to place one of their own in this office. They shall seek to make the Antichrist President of the United States and ruler of this world. They shall likely succeed. If you are able to disguise yourself, this will not happen immediately, it will take some time for Hell to notice and formulate a plan. But your actions will have devastating consequences for this nation. In time I will judge you- for I am without a heart and without mercy. I will decide an appropriate punishment for you. I will inform Aslan of your misdeeds to confirm the justness of my judgment."
"You mean-"
"Yes-Him. I expect you to have finished the instructions I gave when I return. Otherwise, I will remove you from power myself." With that command, the Great Jinjin vanished from the Oval Office instantly.
(Theodore Blair defeated President Hammond in a landslide).
Alternate History Retrospective Election Game: U.S Presidential Election of 1932
Posted: March 3, 2015 to
Nerfking: Vote in this poll for whoever you think would have been the best candidate to win the 1932 Presidential Election. The compiled results thread is here.
TurquoiseBlack: Let's see:
We have a womanizing crook who underwent a midlife crisis and brought fascism to America.
Then, we have a candidate who was so lacking in self confidence he hired an impersonator-Pete Varney- to pretend to be him, and then lied about it. And who also failed to prevent fascists from taking over his own party!
Then we have a literal child, as well as a symbolic protest candidate embodying nothingness.
The answer is clear, the only good option: WE WANT BETTY, WE WANT BETTY.
MaskedKarkus: I know both Blair and Hammond suck, but I feel bad Boop is winning this so handily. Why not Rufus T. Jones? Yes, I know he was only seven, but wouldn't it be cool to have a black President in the 1930s? We could end segregation thirty years early! The first black nominee for President in history- he's a major trailblazer!
Old Miskatonic: It doesn't help that Jones went on to endorse Luthor in 1972 over the actual first black president, thanks to the influence of Johnny Fontane. Jones as an adult admitted his candidacy was only useful in boosting his entertainment career.
Then you have to consider: who would actually be in charge if he won? The Negro Liberty Party is barely a thing, and collapsed into bitter factionalism in real life. This means the Jones administration would likely be run by Bledsoe. Bledsoe was respected at the time, but subsequent historians discovered his shady side, including his underhanded attacks against W.E.B Dubois and other civil rights leaders. Bledsoe likely shuts out the Negro Liberty activists and staffs the administration with anti-New Deal Republicans. A black candidate winning in 1932 is ASB, of course.
Barsoomian Red: I'm not a fan of the Mr. Nobody gimmick, but I'm still voting Communist due to the presence of Bill Quint as Veep. The Communists would have prevented Windrip from ever rising to power. Neither the Democrats or the Republicans were solidly antifascist, and Boop lacks any ideological or revolutionary vigor.
Emperor of Sulaco: Considering that Hammond was probably replaced by a Skrull, shouldn't his name be in quotation marks? Would we be voting for Skrull Hammond or for real Hammond?
Nerfking: The Skrull probably weren't on Earth as early as 1932, the recent scholarly consensus is that Hammond was impersonated by an earthly shapeshifter. But yes, the Hammond on the ballot is whoever was in the White House in November of 1932, and not the "original" Hammond.
The Fourth and a Half Inspector: At least Blair only hired a human doppelganger- and a very likable one at that!- to impersonate him. Instead of a weird totalitarian doppelganger from Hell.
Danny Shea in '68: There's a strong case to be made that Hammond was the worst President in American history. He was far worse than Kang, Luthor, Frost, or Windrip. The damage done by those guys got undone fairly quickly, at least. Hammond is arguably responsible for all the political problems we have today.
Before Hammond and the Great Depression, America had a strong culture of constitutionalism and the rule of law. Yes, there was the First Civil War and all the race rebellions. But the federal government itself was fairly stable. All major political actors agreed on constitutional republicanism, at least in principle.
But then along comes Hammond, and his reluctance to do anything about the Great Depression. The worst economic crisis in our history, and the President spends years partying and doing his mistress in the White House closet. This allows for the rise of the Blue Shirts and other fascist and radical movements- which Hammond at first doesn't even address. That alone puts him in the bottom tier of presidents.
And when Hammond finally decides he needs a plan, what does he do? He basically becomes a fascist himself, installing America's first dictatorship. Not only does he fail to end the Depression, he provides a precedent for Windrip's fascist regime and every wannabe pretender for nearly a century. Every attempted coup, political assassination, rebellion- so much of the political instability that has hampered American democracy over the past eighty years, bringing it to the point of total collapse, can be traced back to Hammond's decision to dissolve Congress and rule like a king.
Captain Cake: Inspector, you can't vote in the retrospective elections, you're Canadian.
I get what you're saying about Hammond, but I think the decline of the republic is more because of all the alien invasions and foreign intrigue than the events of the 1930s.
The Fourth and a Half Inspector: Does sleeping with First Lady Underwood make me an honorary American?
Nerfking: EWWW
Ruritanian Orthodox: Sad to see Blair doing so poorly in this poll. People remember him as the president before the Second Civil War. But 1932 was a poisoned chalice, especially after Hammond went full fascist. The political climate was doomed beyond repair, but Blair's New Deal programs significantly relieved human suffering during the Great Depression, and paved the way for the modern welfare state. They were so successful that even the Republican presidents don't dare to touch it. Blair administration veterans rehabilitated the Democratic Party after the Minutemen debacle. Yes, the Varney affair is pretty weird. But had Blair lived through his term, he would have stopped Windrip and Harvey Bragg and those with shirts of varying colors.
Besides, who do you really think was better prepared for the presidency, Boop or Blair? Does Boop have the political acumen to implement a better New Deal? Can Boop defeat the invasion of Karakhan of Kazan? I think NOT!
Ulysses: Shameless plug here, but does anybody want to read my Charles Foster Kane presidency in 1932 timeline?
Baby Rose Owens: Since Kane was Hammond's biggest backer, isn't that just the same as real life?
General Dillenback: I see all the leftists on this website delivered the election for Boop.
Sources (new sources in bold):Gold Diggers of 1933, Oklahoma!, America:A Prophecy, American Gods, Horsefeathers/Entire Marx Brothers filmography, Discordianism, The Dover Boys at Pimento University, The Three Stooges: Three Little Pigskins/The entire Three Stooges filmography, Chelm/Yiddish Humor, American Progress (painting), The Gold Rush/Charlie Chaplin's entire filmography, Supernatural, Big Max, DC Comics, The West Wing, Percy Jackson, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, The Dresden Files, Million Dollar Legs, Gabriel Over the White House, Nick Carter: Detective, The Maltese Falcon, The House Without a Key, Sherlock Holmes, The Great Gatsby, The Picture of Dorian Grey, Fu Manchu, Citizen Kane, The Money-Makers: A Social Parable, All the King's Men, The Phantom President, Betty Boop, Rufus T. Jones for President, Babbitt, Of Thee I Sing, Washington Merry Go-Round, Invisible Man, The Scarlet Tanager, Black No More, Tiktok of Oz, The Trans-Atlantic Tunnel, At the Earth's Core, Artemis Fowl, Sumerian Kings List, Animorphs, A Wrinkle in Time, Carnivale, The Chronicles of Narnia, Red Harvest, Marvel Comics, It Can't Happen Here, The Godfather, The Simpsons, Community, Nostromo, John Carter of Mars, Cthulhu Mythos, The Prisoner of Zenda, Red Napoleon, Babes in Arms, Amsterdam, Nerdlinger's Retrospective Presidential Elections