The Workers’ Rebellion and The Great Facade: A Brief History of Viktorium (Part IV of V)

by Benoît Laurent

IT BEGAN IN MUCH THE SAME way as it ended—as Shakespeare would say, ‘a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing’. New arrivals to our Viktorium will quickly come to find that this view of the Workers’ Rebellion is rarely contested, even amongst the most liberal of our citizens. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? No one quite knows the correct answer. But what we can be sure of is that it was most certainly a disorganized event.

The sentiments were all there—anger at a sudden drop in wages, DuPont’s unexpected nomination of the controversial Marco Corcini as Minister of Defense (who quickly set up armed checkpoints to keep the working class at bay as Parisian upper-class arrivals were given preferential housing in the Metropoliès), the gentrification of inner city blocks which once housed an array of successful small business—but the labor revolts largely lacked organization from anyone who might serve as a competent leader. The exact reasons for this are unclear, though considering the radically opposing views among the two strongest voices of the working class, it is suspected that a corporate shill was planted from the outset to dissuade a revolution.

In essence, the war was over long before it began. And DuPont’s carefree ideals, it seemed, had already been corrupted. But of course that was not enough for the Parisian ruling class. They had invested their money from the moment of their arrival in all the best markets, biding their time until they could seize control of the capital. The Workers’ Rebellion provided just the right momentum to that end, culminating in the overthrow of DuPont. With him gone, they could then blame the most radical changes—their changes—on his leadership and install a new president, one who promised the people greater progressive change and a more competitive edge against the rising province of Sereinnes in the east.

Not everyone under the thumb of the bourgeoisie cooperated as expected, however. At least five Dispatcher units during that time went rogue to help those in the Mendrés District find shelter in a series of underground tunnels during the worst of the labor riots on the streets above. Several leading Republican Council members even supplied them a layout stolen from a top secret archive. If the battle were to move underground, there were certain safe areas and exits rumored to exist outside the city walls. In addition to this, they were also supplied a new form of camouflage—naturally, courtesy of Tesla—which mimicked the frequency of anomalies and rendered civilians invisible to detection by Corcini’s soldiers. All of this worked out well for many civilians who sought refuge below; that is, for everyone who didn’t find themselves trapped in the southeast junction.

A man by the name of Pontius Proulx—then a General of the Dispatchers and loyal to Corcini—had gotten his hands on the blueprints for the underground subway system at the last moment. Knowing he would not have enough time to break in and round up escaping rioters on his own, he made the decision to rupture a main water line using phase units and flood the tunnels in the southeast corridor to flush them out. This worked quite well to his advantage as those who fled made their way back out onto the streets above and straight into a blockade where his men waited to take them into custody.

In the end, the workers and any other civilians who joined in the fight barely made it up to the Charleville District just outside the Metropoliès. Buildings were bombed out from the north gate up to the edge of the Barreau block, more for scare tactics than anything else. Many were wounded or lost limbs in the fight; reckless as Pontius and his loyal squads were, they still followed the ‘no kill’ decree laid down by DuPont. Nevertheless, their photos were printed in every major news publication in Viktorium, including right here at the Free Press. The stage of revolution had been set. The dissenters were captured and branded as political terrorists, their industries bankrupted and forced under to be replaced by the new. The families of those who marched soon found themselves forced into a life of squalor and constant surveillance. There was no turning back. The bourgeoisie had to make a show of power however they could, a ruse which many argue still persists to this day.

Governor Saunier’s election to public office following the exile of Charles DuPont was a much celebrated affair by Cavarice citizens. His rhetoric on the campaign trail was as progressive as they come. Having won the Radical Party’s nomination, and later the general election by an unexpected landslide against his weaker conservative opponent Louis Roche, it seemed nothing could stand in the way of returning Viktorium to its former glory. Nothing, that is, aside from the Republican Council, who—with paid delegates under the financial influence of the bourgeoisie—successfully had their term limits extended from five years to ten. Governor terms are still five. This meant they could easily subvert the will of any governor in office until 1925, thus rendering neutral any progressive changes proposed by either Saunier or Mayor LaCour, or even their next successors—to say nothing of checks and balances. Goodbye, socialism!

The Facade

Of course you know the old adage, ‘be careful what you wish for’. DuPont wanted a utopian society, and it backfired. But as far as keeping up a show? It appears to have worked remarkably well. Indeed, the supreme irony of it all is that the vast majority of the general public still blindly accepts and believes in Cavarice, even the whole of Viktorium at large, as a place that can be saved with the proper leadership.

Perhaps it is because no one is afforded a choice otherwise of whether or not they wish to come here; DuPont saw to that himself from the very beginning. Making Viktorium into a tourist destination and painting it with the brush of glamour would only work for so long, and he knew this.

The plan was first laid out in 1900 when he first met Nikola Tesla at the Paris Exposition Universelle. The two spoke of innovation. Charles had just proven the existence of an alternate accessible dimension with his latest equations, and he sold his ideas well. Over the next seven years, they corresponded frequently regarding the construction of a compact radio frequency alternator that would automatically scan and collect specific electrical wavelengths—human ‘souls’—and transmit them safely to Viktorium, where they would then be reorganized into their prior form (or at least into a body resembling something close to their original). They did not meet again until DuPont perfected his first ghost machine in 1907 following his test runs in the French countryside.

Together at approximately four in the morning on the 8th of April, they ascended the stairs to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where they climbed out onto the rafters and placed the beacon well out of sight. Tesla was reportedly hesitant to activate such a device; Gustave Eiffel was known to run various experiments from his tower, and he feared there may be too much interference. Being the ever-persuasive one, DuPont of course insisted. The two then left and parted their respective ways. Monitoring the device or changing batteries was not necessary; the tower itself functioned as a lightning rod, and as such would continue to power the alternator indefinitely.

The next night, DuPont paid a visit to Viktorium and discovered a new population of nine thousand waiting just outside the walls of Cavarice. The beacon had worked. This was not quite the perfect number he had hoped for, though certainly close enough to raise the population of his capital city quickly. In his journals, he noted that a wave of confusion had come over the crowd as he began to address them from the wall:

It was as if they were seeing God for the first time in all of his glory. Bewildered expressions befell the sea of unknown faces before me. There were whispers of heaven amongst the Christians, atheists whose legs threatened to give way at any moment, Muslims who bowed in surrender. They could not believe this grand spectacle. Neither, for that matter, could I. As a scientist, I have seen many an occurrence which I could not explain. The arrival of that first crowd was by far the most humbling experience of my life. And I hadn’t a clue what to tell them.

Did they believe me to be God? Was this golden wall in the middle of the desert some equivalent to their idea of what stood at the entrance to heaven? What would happen if I allowed them into my city? These were things I should have considered at the beginning. Back then, there was no Office of Immigration Affairs. There was no railway system. All I had with me at that moment were my loyal squad of Dispatchers, Karl Richter, and Constance Renou. The city, of course, behind me. But I couldn’t open the door just yet. Something inside was stopping me. I had to address them.

“Welcome, friends,” I said, clearing my throat. “Welcome to Viktorium. This…is your city!” And to my surprise, a small group of them answered.

“To Viktorium!” They said. “Viktorium, Viktorium!”

The rest of the crowd joined in the chant until I waved my hand to silence them.

“I know this is not quite what you were expecting after leaving your families. But if we work hard here, we’ve all got a chance to build something. Every man gets his share! And so I welcome you, friends and fellow countrymen, to the afterlife! Viktorium! To victory!”

One of my Dispatchers handed me a small flask as they began to chant again, and I raised it high. It was a gesture most of them seemed to recognize. And as I downed that first stale shot of whiskey while they cheered and jumped about in adoration and excitement, it was then that I realized what I had done.

As I stepped down from the precipice and told Richter to open the gate, Constance took my arm and led me south along the length of the wall. She was supportive as always of course, pretending to understand what she did not. I think she noticed that I must have looked disturbed, though she knew better than to say anything.

What troubled me in that moment was the realization that these people expected the afterlife. They expected me to lead them, to serve their needs. They expected never to hurt again, to never deal with the pain of loss, to never endure another moment of the miserable existence they had just left. The first of those to arrive (by accident) and assist us with the building of Cavarice had been discovered on the outskirts, so I could only assume the entire crowd of 9,000 had trekked north across the desert. To the Promised Land, perhaps. To the Shining City on a Hill. To whatever conception their minds had of heaven, Cavarice would have to be it.

And so I had to follow through on the promise I had made in 1906. If nothing else, perhaps I owed it to the lives lost during First Crossover. But I had to dress it up. I had to make Viktorium a place worth believing in. I had to make sure there was no such thing as death anymore, so long as I remained in charge. And if it turned out that there was indeed a death in this place, well…I had to be sure the city would never learn of it. I myself did not wish to hear such a thing.

Is there a “heaven”? I do not know anymore, nor do I care to.                                            

Viktorium shall be the only life I live from now on. There will be no going home anymore. Not while I have someone loyal by my side to share a new love with, and an expectant country to lead. My wife and children are enough of a regret, but at least they will be well taken care of on Earth. Let me say now that I have died, that I may live. A most noble cause.

Such childish ‘realizations’, as he calls them, were of course the hallmark of DuPont’s egotism. In truth, he cared not who he abandoned or what he left behind. The whole of Viktorium was but a dreamer’s utopian paradise to him. It also seems to be a tradition which, oddly enough, his successors have followed, be they Radical or Republican.

And that is precisely why it is so vital for everyone in Cavarice to be aware that this “dream worth believing in” is in fact nothing more than a lie meant to deceive us and every new arrival that comes after! And for what? Bodies to ensure the continued stability of this frequency? Viktorium is hardly worth saving, at least in my eyes. It is so far beyond, in fact, that our entire city and indeed, our entire world here is just as deluded—if not more so—than DuPont himself!

Consider how many people he roped into this scheme. Ever since First Crossover, we have been tricked and lied to. After the placement of the beacon, many of us were forced here against our greater will and against our religious beliefs. And what lies beyond this frequency? Don’t you want to know? Or are you content to remain blind, as Charles was?

Please do not think I ask these questions purely out of anger. Indeed, I am angry. But I am also much like you, the strong-willed everyday citizens of Cavarice who read my articles and feel so impassioned as to act. Every day, I get letters from many of you and I am truly thankful to find I am not the only one who believes we can do better as a city and as a world. Because just like you, I want to believe in this dream too. But I also want that dream to be genuine and pure of intention. I want political change in Cavarice. I want to see our old downtown districts revitalized, for the money and public services to flow freely to all, and most importantly, for our leaders to be passionate, strong people who care about all the lives under their watch, big and small.

But I must confess that if things do not change here soon, if they continue to remain as they are, and if the good people cannot stand up and make their voices heard out of fear of the bourgeoisie class or any other intimidating force…then I must resolve to find a way out. And I would encourage you all to do this same.

We were named ‘Viktorium’ for a reason; so if you must, please do all that you can to get out and embrace your own ‘victory over death’, whatever that dream may look like to you.

For if you do not, I assure you, you will die a second time.

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Ghost Frequency & Stabilization: A Brief History of Viktorium (Part III of V)

by Benoît Laurent

“I have searched during many years for some process or means to test the possibility of future existence by scientific experiment, and I have devised one, which, to my great disappointment, has failed. But perhaps some more skillful experimenter might succeed if I suggest to him the course…” – Nikola Tesla

 CONQUEST. It is perhaps an unfortunate fundamental truth of modern society that no great nation could ever hope to exist without it. Throughout the darker historical periods of our planet, such battles have often been waged without mercy or regard for innocent life. In the Modern Age of course, most civilized countries have done away with senseless barbarism. Perhaps that is only because we have forgotten what is necessary to found a country.

Long before Viktorium existed as we know it today, there were certain ‘anomalies’—for lack of a better term—which had to be cleared before habitation could commence. These anomalies are generally benign today, though still present throughout the world to varying degrees. It has been theorized that we may never truly be rid of them, though the number of such occurrences which pose a genuine threat is far fewer than it once was. It seems to dwindle with each passing year—major events are thankfully rare. But just what are these anomalies, exactly?

No one quite knows. Most of us call them ghosts, though that is an oversimplification. It is also an affront to our fundamental understanding of how Viktorium itself functions. Many new arrivals often stop me in the street to ask what all the fuss is about when they first catch sight of the Dispatchers making their rounds, patrolling the city walls or rushing through the marketplace in pursuit of some invisible entity. I must confess that most of the time, I am guilty of using the word ‘ghosts’ myself to describe what they are chasing after. Of course the arrivals balk at this answer. It is never good enough. There must be a more logical reason why these young men are leaping over rooftops and shoving citizens out of the way like rag dolls. At this point, I resolve to give them the long version I had hoped to avoid.

It is the same reason why paranormal investigators and ghost hunters document such phenomena on the Earth plane; something has crossed over into our realm on a separate frequency that should not be here. From a purely scientific standpoint, we now know that everything is made up of variable frequencies stacked on top of one another to form the basic fabric of reality as we perceive it. Earth’s reality, for instance, is one frequency. Viktorium is just a step above, where particles of matter vibrate at a much higher rate so as to escape the pull of visible light on the other side. And yet while neither of us can see each other, we both exist on the same planet.

Problems arise when those particles become shuffled about through specific circumstances. It is theorized that a particularly grisly death, for instance, has the potential to shatter the soul to the farthest imperceptible frequencies—grisly deaths, perhaps like those which occurred in Bezonvaux at First Crossover. Left to their own devices, these parts and pieces of the human soul then coalesce into bonds and seek out their own, drawn together by mutual emotional energy such as rage or fear. They often appear as disparate voices, cloaked distortions casting impossible shadows, abrupt changes in temperature or gravity.

On the Earth plane, they cause the phenomenon known as a ‘haunting’. In Viktorium, they have the potential to do far greater damage, up to and including complete destabilization of our reality. Fortunately, the great Charles DuPont envisioned a solution for this. Enter the Dispatchers!

The Conspiracy

Warned by Tesla that that the anomalies could pose such a threat, Charles wasted no time reverse-engineering his current machine for travel to Viktorium into something more sinister. A series of wrist-mounted prototypes were constructed not for the purpose of travel, but for ablation. His goal was simple—cut out the cancer. No one wants to live, much less vacation, in a haunted house. Especially not a house possibly haunted by the souls of those who died during First Crossover in the famous Viktoria I disaster. Of course it is quite possible that other habitable frequencies exist higher than ours, though we know of no way to travel there and even so, Charles himself was not willing to dream that big. Stabilization would be far too great a task to accomplish on his own, and it was enough to reinforce Viktorium.

To this end, he enlisted a team of several trusted men and their sons—physicists, electrical engineers, and hunters, all of whom were thoroughly screened. In addition to these, DuPont also appointed a rather curious Afro-German man by the name of Karl Richter, a seismologist who claimed the ability to track phenomena using gravitational waves. With their combined knowledge, the culling soon began. But this, too, was to be a disaster from the outset. A crucial element was missing from Charles’ equations. Something he had forgotten from his first foray into this land, and which he would later put to use in his improved machines.

A delicate balance in electromagnetic resonance must be maintained for any life to remain within reach of Viktorium’s frequency. It is known as the Law of Trade. We must consistently import a certain range of dense matter equal to or greater than what is dispatched. Nowadays, this is no longer a problem. Plenty of people arrive here every day, and so less phenomena poses a justifiable threat to warrant removal.

In the beginning however, it was a major concern. Bodies were needed for the gateway to remain open, and lots of them. Every action taken to open the door requires an equal countermeasure for stability. It is no secret at this point that Charles obtained numerous cadavers for this purpose as a temporary fix whilst he perfected his sales pitch to con rural French citizens into his colonization efforts. There is much debate on exactly where he obtained the corpses; he claimed they were donated by science, but of course this has never been verified.

Even more puzzling is the fact that in the months both before and following the First Crossover incident, thirteen males in the surrounding towns of Garronville, Ornes, and Douamont went missing. Rumors began to circulate of a murderer on the loose. At least four women from Garronville were admitted to a psychiatric hospital within a week of each other after suffering a fit of hysterics, claiming a ghostly apparition had snatched several of their relatives out of thin air. Viktorium, it seemed, was not as stable as DuPont had previously thought.

In order to understand the nature of what occurred in this conspiratorial conquest, one must first become acquainted with the term ‘dispatching’ as it applies to anomalies. Charles knew from the beginning that any loss of life was an unacceptable compromise. Eradicating the anomalies outright would throw off the resonant frequency of our world, leading to a massive collapse. By the same token, he didn’t wish to find out what might happen if a living person were to die here, either. It was out of this reasoning that the Dispatchers squads were conceived. For all intents and purposes, they would serve as policemen, keeping citizens in check whilst properly disposing of anomalies.

The wrist-mounted phase units they wear—which at first glance appear intimidating—are intended to fire variable electromagnetic pulses that break apart and scatter clusters of these anomalies, dispatching them to different frequencies where they can no longer cause any harm to our citizens. This is typically done in teams of three; one will fire a unit that discharges infrasound, drawing the anomaly into visible light. Another fires a torch to ensure it remains visible long enough for the third to discharge his pulse array and scatter the apparition, dispatching it into the dark unknown. Unfortunately, an unstable Viktorium combined with overzealous dispatching had the unintended consequence of reaching back to Earth’s frequency. Living people had become victims of the Dispatchers because no one could see what was happening on the other side. To everyday citizens, fireballs appeared out of nowhere and set their towns ablaze. Lightning bolts zapped their relatives into oblivion, or infrasound drew them into a panic.

Fortunately for Charles and his team, another unintended consequence occurred. Viktorium suddenly began to stabilize on its own. It was soon discovered that contrary to what he had previously thought, those who went missing on Earth’s frequency were not lost, as had happened with the Viktoria I—these people instead materialized in the outer reaches of our world, fully alive and with measurable vital signs. I wish I could say that our bold first leader only used this information to improve his ghost machines to facilitate travel. He did, of course. But given his prior record of egotistical decisions made at the expense of others, it is unlikely DuPont stopped there. Those times were desperate, and desperate times as we all know often call for the most unorthodox methods. Yet that is where the paper trail ends.

Various theories have been put forth as to why some people in Viktorium seem to age whilst others do not. These theories range anywhere from the highly plausible—that DuPont was not above kidnapping people, faking their deaths, and granting them a new identity—to the most absurd—that the apparitions, knowing their place of residence is threatened, prey upon the living energy of human hosts. If the latter was true of course, citizens would be dropping dead in the street every hour.

I do find it suspicious, however, that the Dispatchers and those close to them up until now have always seemed to age. This fact has never changed, despite concern among some of our more progressive politicians that DuPont may one day be able to use this to his advantage and plot his return. Following his exile to a range of higher frequencies, new contracts were drafted for every Dispatcher squad. These contracts are, oddly enough, so confidential to the point that they were destroyed after one viewing; the only person with remaining copies in their possession is our governor. In addition to this, I also find it suspicious that the old courthouse which sits at 1500 Rue La Monte in the Barreau district has not yet been demolished. It is unknown if all remaining records were in fact confiscated from its halls following DuPont’s exile.

Taking all of this into account, I would encourage both my fellow citizens as well as our new arrivals to remain wary at all times. Things in Viktorium have never been quite what they seem on the surface. If you are reading this paper on the street right now, please do me this honor. I would like for you to avert your eyes a moment and look above you this very second. Look, high above, to where the city meets the clouds. Can you see it? Our tall, sleek skyscrapers inspired by Roman architecture. The grand scope of a white and silver horizon, the Metropoliès at the very center, squeaky clean and shining and full of so much promise.

Now look back to the ground on which you stand. Look back, at the rust-ridden, condemned sectors of our city. The Barreau block, the polluted waterfront that once sparkled so crystal clear, the parks in a horrid state of overgrowth and decay. Look at the orphaned children on the street with sad, sunken eyes. Look at their distended stomachs, their dirtied hands, those which perhaps sold you this very newspaper you are reading right now. And look also to the jobless, the old man begging on the corner in the same sector, or even a recently evicted adult who was once promised an education of the highest standard.

These people are all your brothers and sisters! Do they not deserve the same equal treatment, the same chance as the rest of you? At least their desperation is honest and comes from a place of necessity. And yet this greedy lie which continues to be perpetuated by our current political lineup is permitted to continue. It is permitted because you, the average citizen, refuses to vote otherwise! I tell you, friends, you live in such blissful, ignorant opulence! If you have read these articles, if you can grasp the depth of what I am saying, I must encourage you to do some research and investigate further.

Go downtown to the Barreau district sometime. Visit the old waterfront, survey the empty parks filled with garbage. Learn of our history. For if you do not, you ignore it at your own peril.

Thanks again for reading, folks! I apologize for the late issue, but further research was necessary in the writing of this article. If you are enjoying this series on our history, please don’t forget to follow me here, as well as DuPont Steamworks and our Director of Viktorium-France Transit for all the latest updates!

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The Socialist Decay: A Brief History of Viktorium (Part II of V)

by Benoît Laurent

EQUALITY WAS AN INEVITABLE CONSEQUENCE of the Viktorium afterlife, whether one agreed with the initial concept or not. Problems which plagued the land of the living such as racism, classism, sexism, and beyond were no longer to be of any concern to us in this New World. After all, we had learned with great difficulty during our time on Earth’s frequency that exclusion only breeds failure. Thus, we took it upon ourselves as an evolved French society to extend that same liberty to all people, regardless of background or immutable nature. In short, we had said our goodbyes to the Old World. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the New!

Of course the only problem with this philosophy would be in its implementation. Given a model of the world as we previously knew it, Viktorium differs in marked contrast to its concept of death; simply put, we have none. No one has ever died here, and birth is impossible for reasons as yet unknown, though new arrivals continue to flood our streets every minute. By 1907, a system was devised whereby every new arrival—a death in the land of the living—was classified in Viktorium as a ‘birth’.

This was but a fanciful process to ensure that all debts of a citizen’s previous life were forgiven, whilst the most vital parts could be carried over. The only thing which could not be transferred was one’s finances. For this reason, income equality was also viewed as a necessity; of course this idea quickly morphed into a colossal failure once members of the elite Parisian upper-class began to arrive. One could feasibly argue that this is the event which led to Charles DuPont’s exile, though even if that is not the case, it is undeniably certain that at the very least it led to the breakdown of Viktorium’s utopian socialist ideals, thus reinstituting a bitter convention of classism which had taken centuries to defeat.

To add to this dilemma, the question of what was to be done about orphaned children also came to light. After all, there were many instances back on the Earth plane in which it was quite possible for children to die long before their parents. Finding themselves alone in Viktorium and understandably mistrustful of most adults, these orphans would often begin to seek out one another and form gangs for protection. Five buildings in the now-impoverished Mendrés district were renovated for the purpose of housing to combat this problem, as well as the institution of a Dispatchers Training Programme meant to encourage youth to take on leadership roles in service to the community. Both of these projects were later scrapped in a massive reallocation of federal tax funds following Charles DuPont’s exile. Of course in the wake of this madness, the children were left with no other choice but to form gangs anyway. Many of them were promptly expelled to the Outlands by the ever-so-compassionate Dispatchers.

But the first orphanage—and the only one still standing today—is located on the west end of the Barreau block, a sector which has largely been condemned by the Cavarice City Zoning Commission. Following the closure of the remaining four orphanages in 1916, significant funds were poured back into the dilapidated Barreau Estate for further renovations and housing space. A miracle seemed just within reach—the plan allowed for the reopening of two other buildings on the block, as well as higher-class accommodations, plenty of food and clothing, and even educational services.

Oddly enough, these significant (and essential) changes have still not taken place to this day, the 4th of January 1920! One has to wonder where exactly those funds are being siphoned to. Has the Barreau Orphanage become another front organization of some sort, and tax-free, no less? That would hardly be shocking; there are plenty of those in Cavarice now! Just to list but a few of them I have uncovered in previous exposés:

  • Courges Print & Press
  • LaFout Taylors
  • Zuviban Clockworks (a subsidiary of DuPont Steamworks Co.)
  • Montcherie’s Clothing & Textiles (owned by Agnés Brochard, a cousin of Constance Renou)

I’m sure I could go on. But it is a sad irony that in all the rich snobbery of Viktorium’s elite ruling class, they do not seem to be above the finance of organized crime, so long as it benefits their own pocketbooks. What I find even more shocking and reprehensible is that they are destroying the lives of young children in the process. They are not above using them for their twisted ends, either—it should come as no surprise that no child raised in any of the five orphanages was ever recorded as having completed the Dispatchers Training Programme. In effect, it was a directive which only seems to have ever existed on paper. And yet these children to this day can often be seen shuffled around the city with the Dispatchers themselves, carrying heavy equipment and aiding in various security functions for little to no pay.

What, then, is the solution?

An orphanage lies in shambles along with any dreams those kids might have for a better life, a true and forgotten testament to just how much greed exists above the clouds in the Metropoliès downtown. A fearsome gang in the Outlands led by a psychologically disturbed young boy named Igor (barely thirteen years of age, I might add) is holed up in an abandoned villa just outside the city, waiting for the first opportunity to break in and wreak havoc. Constance Renou, the director of Viktorium-France Transit, seems content to run her business under DuPont’s old regulations. The Dalishkova Knights, a mafia organization shrouded in mysticism, keep dissenting voices in check whilst operating various front companies to keep the money rolling on up to the wealthiest of Viktorium’s citizens. And all the while, DuPont’s old ghost machines have been mysteriously disappearing, even as rumors persist of strange activity occurring in the valley of 501 kHz to the east of Cavarice–activity that the Dispatchers have yet to investigate.

For those of you unaware, Viktorium’s 501 also happens to be located at the same parallel coordinates as Bezonvaux on the Earth plane!

It is a gross understatement to say that in our upcoming elections, the newest presidential candidates have their work cut out for them–if it is even work that they are willing to do.

But perhaps I mistaken about all of this. Perhaps it is simply the natural order of things, and the abandonment of classism was nothing more than a brief social experiment in our early history. After all, we were expecting to do away with a system that has existed in Europe for centuries in the span of just a few short years. And yet apart from the other institutions we were successful in dismantling–mainly racism and sexism–no one here is willing to think outside the box or implement long-term solutions, barring of course what is beneficial to them alone. Why did we ever do away with such attitudes of hope following our president’s exile? Certainly it was a primary staple of why many wanted him gone in the first place! ‘Narcissism has no place in the allocation of federal funds,’ they argued. Equality and reform were the talk of the town during his trials. So why are we still lying to ourselves?

One has to admit that despite the narcissistic behavior of Charles DuPont and the manner in which he, too, dodged responsibility and sacrificed precious lives to meet his own nefarious ends, his actions did give us all a much better understanding of this world than the decadent elitists currently in charge. This was a man who at the very least encouraged us to be shameless and to dream, even if his own vision was far overreaching and out of touch with sociopolitical (or even financial) reality. And that is what made him simultaneously the best—and worst—leader we will ever know. I like to believe that perhaps he did come to understand something shortly before his inevitable exile that we have all lost sight of, and that is that Viktorium itself is a grand, constantly-evolving scientific experiment.

It only stands to reason that if DuPont’s term as president taught us nothing else, it is that reverting to the old ways we once knew on Earth will inevitably lead to our destruction not just as a society, but in this particular dimension of existence. Nikola Tesla himself has warned us of it on numerous occasions, though few in the political arena here will take him seriously.

So I must implore you all to ask yourselves: Are you ready for the true afterlife? Because if not, there are clear changes that must be made following the coming elections which we would all be patently stupid to ignore.

 

I thank you all once again for reading, and we apologize for the brief hiatus in the publication of our news. Our printing machines here underwent a malfunction and took a week to repair, but The Viktorium Free Press is back! Please be sure to keep up with me here, as well as the scandalous developments with Constance Renou, who I will interview in a future segment–if she is willing, of course!

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Prelude: A Brief History of Viktorium (Part I of V)

by Benoît Laurent

IT BEGAN WITH THE DREAM of a young boy, as all things must. An innocent childhood fancy imbued with the spark of imagination. Throughout the course of his life, this spark would be heavily nurtured. His parents indulged him, this boy, as most born to affluence would—with immediate response to every demand and a condescending attitude toward his peers. This of course would leave him unprepared for the devastation that was to follow in his personal life as he dealt with its natural lessons such as death, betrayal, and above all, failure. ‘But what if one did not have to learn such things?’ he thought. This question, more than any other, became the primary driving force behind his life pursuits as he reached the age of adulthood.

Thus, the unchecked spark of indulgence was permitted to grow unto its logical conclusion; a dream so grandiose and decadent, its creator would soon realize there was no room left for it in the real world. And once he discovered Viktorium, that was it. The only reason this man ever needed, as it provided an excuse for everything from his narcissistic behavior to his mad scientist tendencies. The fact that it was a literal escape from the real world was perhaps the icing on the cake. ‘Ah, so one does not have to die after all! How might I exploit this?’

Have you all eaten your fill yet?

The man I am referring to of course is Charles DuPont, ‘First King of Viktorium’ as he no doubt likes to be known. By no coincidence, today so happens to be his birthday. I for one certainly hope he is enjoying it where he belongs—in exile!

Unfortunately for Viktorium—and in particular, our fine capital of Cavarice as it stands today—exile was not quite enough to repair the damage that was already done from fifteen long years of his leadership. We still have our share of problems to clean up, and that’s exactly where we lack guidance. Who is responsible enough to lead us into the next era as a Futuristic society? Mayor La Cour and the Republican Council certainly aren’t cutting it. The fact that everyone on both sides of the political sphere fancies themselves the next supreme is not the least of such concerns; they ousted DuPont with no clear backup plan in mind, yet they refuse to take responsibility for the ensuing mess unless it furthers their own agenda.

And that is the very crux of the issue. Our current politicians in power were among the first to arrive here. No one in their rational, living, thinking intelligent minds could ever have conceived of the idea of having major responsibilities in the afterlife. Indeed how could they, when the very man who founded this place was just as irresponsible and naïve as they, so much so to have marketed it as a vacation destination? After all, death is the great respite. If you wish to escape death, you must take responsibility for the technological power that permits you to do so. But as is death, so is life! In Viktorium, you must work to earn your fill.

And to that end, I feel I must issue a sincere apology to all new arrivals. Many of you were duped into believing this to be a vacation destination, whilst those of you who came long after perhaps thought you were entering Heaven. Even the criminals recently executed that arrive here are those whom you must now consider your brothers, a rather Marxist law which has been upheld with disastrous results. Article IV of the Constitution of Cavarice which states “No arriving citizens shall be judged for Earth crimes” was the worst of DuPont’s edicts left over as a relic of his former cabinet. But not to worry, you’ve got our fine upstanding Dispatcher force for that, another organization that is not without its share of problems, and certainly not free of corruption either. So where did this all start, you ask?

The Man, The Machine, & The Movie Star

FIRST CROSSOVER, 1906. A man enters a poor rural village claiming he has recently developed a very special vacation destination which has yet to be used. All he needs are enough willing families of the general public to test it out for a couple weeks, which he will allow them to do for free. He uses all sorts of scientific words to describe the location, which you wouldn’t listen to anyway because he keeps pointing at his scantily-dressed assistant. All of your attention is focused on her. You trust him not because he smiles, but because the girl smiles. He goes at the men first.

“If you gentleman bring your wives to Viktorium for some much deserved relaxation, I can promise you they won’t soon forget it!” The girl captures your attention with all sorts of flashy poses as he displays a map of the area. “This is the most sophisticated restaurant in town, just off the waterfront. They serve only the best aged wines, delectable dishes of seafood including the finest caviar, and the best chocolate cakes for the lady here, if it so happens to be your wife’s birthday.” He smiles and pats her behind as she caresses her neck and coos in submissive adoration.

Now any intelligent man from the city could see through such a ridiculous act, but the town of Bezonvaux unfortunately had little experience with carnival marketing tactics. They were simply happy to escape their troubled lives through any means necessary. Then again, that is precisely why Charles DuPont had chosen them to test his machine. Also chosen as part of his marketing act was a then twenty-five year old model and actress by the name of Constance Renou, now the Director of Viktorium-France Transit. Charles’ relationship with her, as well as her role in the deception, remains unclear to this day.

What is most clear, however, is what occurred one month later at a date now known as First Crossover. The very mention of it in Viktorium is enough to make one shudder in abject terror, and rightly so. The Viktoria I machine was the biggest technological disaster of our age. Not that Charles cared. He got what he needed most out of the deal in the end—test subjects. Because for all of his credit as a scientist and innovator, DuPont was still the same ruthless, conniving human being he had been as a child. He had to have his way no matter what, and he would go to any means necessary to get it.

On the night of First Crossover, two hundred and thirteen people entered the Viktoria I never to be seen again, either in Viktorium or anywhere else for that matter. According to Charles himself as he stood trial, the crowd formed an orderly line and talked of their excitement. One by one they stepped into the chamber, each accompanied by a green flash that grew ever brighter. The last lit up the entire sky even ten kilometers away. And just like that, the peaceful village of Bezonvaux was gone forever. The following is from DuPont’s court statement before he was exiled:

I tried to stop it. I had noticed earlier that the matter density array was misaligned to a variance of a few degrees. At first, I thought it was within acceptable limits. When they began entering, everything seemed fine. But the flashes got brighter as time went on, and I realized the phase emitter was failing to compensate as it should have. There was a critical overload and I couldn’t be sure the rest would materialize on the other side.

After the first fifty people, I told them we had to stop. But they kept pressuring me to continue firing the switch. ‘You promised us!’ they said. I had never seen a crowd of farmers so upset and angry. Some of them were carrying pistols, others rifles. I was certain more were carrying knives. Despite the fact I had my own pistol, I was outnumbered.

Viktorium was no assurance for me either. I knew if I died, I would come here and the ones who had crossed might make further attempts on my life. We’re still not yet certain what happens if you are killed in Viktorium. Where would I go? But I thought they might have gotten through. How is this all my fault again? Surely they must be alive somewhere! We just have to keep looking.

But of course nobody wanted to look, and they won’t bother. There is far too much power at stake. The fact that Charles’ machine was an eventual success is all that matters to Viktorium’s current politicians now. They just needed the right scapegoat to exile him, because even that was difficult enough. He is a most intelligent man, but I digress. The machine must keep running at all costs, even if it should send us to the Reapers!

That was Charles DuPont’s philosophy, and it is that of our current Parliament. So does it not seem strange to you that the parts are still defective, even if the body has changed? Are we truly expecting a different outcome in this world, and will we also expect one in the next, so long as the same tired cranks are still in power? Of course not! These little power plays they make every damned election year are blatant misdirection, folks! The corporate wheels are still turning, and this is the very essence of The Man, The Machine, and The Movie Star.

Because while The Man hides in a magic box somewhere no doubt holding the secret to his miraculous return in his bloody hands, The Movie Star is still here to draw our attention, operating The Machine to the horrid detriment of our society.

God Save Viktorium! God Save Us All!

Thank you all for reading and please stay tuned for Part II in my series of Viktorium’s history in two weeks! Also be sure to follow my Twitter account here, as well as the Director of Viktorium-France Transit.

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