Some other stuff I was considering getting were Neocolonialism by Nkhrumah (Though it is expensive) and Permanent Revolution and Results and Prospects by Trotsky.
Basically, if you'd be interested in such a party forming or in joining it, say it on this post.
Even if there is interest it might not be made lol, I'm not that good at party politics.
"2500 TONNES OF TNT????? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!?!" Restaurant exclaims as he looks down at the piece of paper Rachel handed him.
"Does it matter? I'll pay you 600,000 cR for it. Mind you, that's several dozens of thousands of cReddits above what is required" Rachel calmly responds.
"I-I-I, Rachel, this is psychotic! I know this project was big, b-but, Jesus Christ! Last time you bought 7 tonnes of TNT and I thought THAT was a ridiculous amount!"
"We did the calculations, apperantly we need more".
"This is just... This... I..."
"You are saying a lot of things that aren't 'No', Restaurant" Rachel interrupts the stammering mayor.
"You don't have to make it for me". She continues. "This contract is purely of your choice. But I know you want to end this war just as much as I do, hell, even more than I do. It's your birth province, after all. So while you're shocked and appalled and all that fine bussineses, you aren't saying no, aren't you?"
Restaurant looks at her quietly for a moment, contemplating who is this person Infront of him. Someone he doesn't quite recognize. Regardless he sighs and looks down again at the contract.
"I'll..." He stammers out...
"I'll see what I can do..."
Rachel sits at her Lapovo office. A newspaper is laid out Infront of her which she looks down at with seething contempt. It's a drab newspaper, boringly written, written more like a shopping list than a piece of press, but that isn't what's upsetting her. No, what's upsetting her is what's written on the paper, the paper she's glaring at with so much hatred as if she is attempting to burn it with her eyesight.
It reads "12 dead yesterday in Eosaran skirmish". It just recounts the battle against the Insigniats followed by lazily written obituaries for the fallen DoR soldiers. Of course Rachel knew sacrifices must be made, but she saw nearly this exact paper every day now since the start of the war. How much longer will this go on for? And if we really leave the DoR to it's own devices, can we trust it will make those deaths mean anything? We've already seen the embarrassing failure against Fonend, what if it is to be repeated?
As Rachel continues to look at the paper she feels increasingly nauseated. Sick. And a migrane is coming on. Everything around her turns into a thin static as a white noise like a droaning scream bangs against her ears.
This war. This damn war. It's driving her insane. It's driving the whole DoR insane. And why? So some fascists in a different empire could boast? What a joke. All of the people dead for the ego of an emperor. Eosara is burning out of the most pathetic reasons imaginable and Tutum might very well be next. What a joke. What a sick joke.
Those fascists. Look at them. They're rats. Not worthy of the grace the Gods gave them to inhabit this earth. They're a sickness dragging us all down with them, a virus latching on, a parasite. Well, then why the hell are we entertaining them with this stupid war? Giving them the "glory" they want on the battle field?
Let's show them what war is really like. They want war? They'll get what they asked for, and they'll get it tenfold. It doesn't matter if the government accepts it or not, we don't need them. All we need is to send a message. A message that any fascists who want to challenge the DoR will recieve exactly what they asked for. And when they beg to stop the fire raining down on them, we will not heed their pathetic cries, for we know what they wanted to do to us.
As the droaning sound continues to hammer at Rachel's ears, and the hatred at her mind, she takes out a pen and paper, preparing to write a letter. She places the ink to paper and begins to write:
"Dear Poly, I require your assistance..."
The "People's Palace" in Lapovo, the seat of the Supreme Soviet of Tutum, is bathed in cigarette smoke, and crowded by the screaming of delegates.
"The fascists are on the doorstep of Lapovo-!"
"You speak as if the fascists at home aren't the true threat-!"
"Thalassa has been imprisoned and for what-?!"
"For the love of all that is holy, she and her gang were a bunch of terrorist agitators -!"
"We'll be next on the chopping block-!"
"They would have killed us if they had the chance-!"
As this lovely scene continues, Rachel walks into the room coughing a bit over the smoke, then moves up to the podium, coughing some more before she takes off her shoe and bangs it in the podium to recieve attention.
The hall becomes quiet. Everyone turns to look at her. They see how tired she is, but exhaustion isn't the only emotion they see. They can see that she is... Giddy. For some reason.
Rachel smiles weakly and takes out a flask, chugging all of it in one gulp before throwing it away, it makes a metallic clank as it falls to the floor. She looks at all the delegates in the room and yells out.
"Coooooooooooooomrades!!****"
As the representatives look at her, frankly concerned, she laughs and speaks up again.
"Look at yourself! God, this is all pathetic. 'We're all gonna die!', 'the DoR is lost', blah, blah, blah. It makes me sick hearing the lot of ya. So how about we all make a deal?"
"I have everything under control. I know, I know, it seems like everything is going to hell, but as long as we have cigarettes to smoke and vodka to drink, we're not yet lost!"
" 'Oh, but Rachel, but General Secretary, we're at war, there are terrorists all around, there are fascists, there are capitalists, how could you possibly say such thinga in such times?' I hear you my beloved comrades, but I'm gonna need to ask you to shut up. I have power, I have plans, and the workers are not scared easily".
"Forgive me gentlemen, I'm not quite capable for a rosuing speech currently. That's why I don't intend to offer you one. No, I'm offering something quite different ~ come in, ladies!"
A couple of TIKKO soldiers walk into the hall of the supreme Soviet, but they aren't carrying guns. They're carrying bottles of vodka and shot glasses. They go around, giving each one a drink and watching over them. Rachel looks over and smiles before she picks up her own glass and says:
"Drink, damn you! Your moaning is making me sick, so substitute it with some honest drunken laughter! I'll be with you for it! And when we wake up tomorrow with the sort of headache they tell horror stories about, we'll wake up knowing it's not all lost because we still have our alcohol and our comradery!"
Rachel downs her drink. And the rest of the delegates, after a moment of silence, yell out together in a rousing cheer and down their shots as well, before each one getting a refill.
Rachel's eyes are half lidded. She looks at the new KKP poster brought Infront of her by a few aides. Her face is scrunched up in confusion as she points to the poster and turns to one of the people holding it saying:
"Karl, what the #%&$ is this?"
"It's a poster, ma'am".
"Well, yeah, I can see that! What the hell is it for?"
"The war against the Insigniats".
"Why? The KKP isn't even taking part in the war".
"Yet".
...
Rachel sighs and rubs her brow, feeling a migrane coming on.
"Okay, fine, it's a war poster, cool. What is it even trying to say? And why is my head so disproportionately small compared to the rest of my body? Who designed this $#!£?"
"Look, Ma'am, I understand if you dislike the poster, you just need to tell us whether or not to run it".
Rachel is quiet for a moment before she lets out a long groan and says:
"Fine! Run it, I don't care! I couldn't sleep in prison because of the constant hum of airplanes taking off so I'm too busy to argue! And if anyone needs the Tutumite army, tell them to come to Sugar for the provincial militia and Red for TIKKO, I am too tired look after that stuff myself!"
"Yes ma'am, right away then".
The aides leave the room as Rachel sits down on a lounge chair and covers her face. Jesus Christ, this is gonna be a long one. Where did she hide her cigarettes?
There are few slogans more drab and overused than "The kids are our future!", yet so many of those who put this slogan forward seem to dismiss any notion of actually trusting the kids with their future! Well, in TCP, we are committed to matching our words with action, and one such way is that one of the Proletariat Pioneers shall be elected to represent them in the central committee! And now, if we really strive for the future, who is better to ask to represent the youth wing of The Communist Party than who is certainly one of the most active communists inside the Proletariat Pioneers? Wouldn't you like the same steady hand that brought communism to Tutum to be representing all of us young revolutionaries in the beating heart of the vanguard?
Vote Wendigo! I do not disappoint.
Rachel is standing at her palace and looking at a pack of cigarettes, contemplating, before Stella snatches it out of her hands.
"Nuh uh, we talked about this, little sister. You aren't going to be smoking while I'm around".
After admonishing her sister, Stella takes one of the cigarettes out of the pack and lights it, taking a long drag.
Union gets up from his seat and speaks.
"Well, I don't imagine you invited me and Stella here just to smoke cigarettes. What's the agenda?"
Rachel sighs and takes out two piles of paper, and she hands one to each of her guests. They look down at the pamphlets which read "The Petty Bourgeoisie Cult of the Old Monarchy".
Stella chokes a little on her cigarette smoke as she sees the title of the pamphlet before she takes the cigarette our of she mouth and chuckles.
"No way? Are we FINALLY having this discussion? Are we going to exorcise the ghost of that old fool from Tutum for once and for all?"
Rachel sighs, "Yes, we are. The influence of the old Khan over Tutum is still great, and needs to be combated. As much as I have my appreciation for Shalit as an old friend and the real founder of Tutum, well, the hand his personality has nowadays in Tutum really is just a tool for reaction..."
Stella scoffs, "Hey, not like you need to convince me. I've been struggling against the egoism of the Shalitists for years now. Their petty Tutumite chauvinism, their incapability to work with others or relegate any sort of power to someone that isn't themselves while also refusing to do anything with their power. Ugh, you already know how I feel about them..." Stella takes another drag from her cigarette.
Union speaks "This isn't gonna be easy, Rachel. People really like Thinkbat. You're not gonna be able to rid Tutum of his influence without a lot of push back and struggle, maybe even from within the KKP".
Rachel sighs.
"I know. But what choice do I have?"
I just wanted to share it here. After watching the finale Jax's character stuck with me really really hard. I'm a closeted trans woman and I have been for the last 3 years, but lately it has been feeling like something I just sort of live with without being too connected with. It felt like a background thing that defined my life in a way I didn't really understand nor did I plan to do anything about it.
​
But after seeing the finale I really got pushed back into recognizing my transness more because of Jax's story. She just reminded me of everything that can happen in the closet and how to make my way past it. I genuinely want to start coming out to people and get a GD diagnosis so I can start HRT soon, things I haven't seriously considered or thought about in a very long time. Jax's story just filled me with such an immense desire to be myself that actually translated into a desire for action I haven't felt for a long time.
​
That's sort of it, I just wanted to share it here. There's a very good chance Jax will be the reason I transition. And I think that really nice.
In Oborograd:
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Two construction workers are fixing a hitch in an electric substation. Some of the metal pillars bent and electrical wires got stretched and they needed to fix that. They were both on top of one fo the pillars in the substation with their kit by their side and hard hats on.
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"Jesus Christ, this heat is killing me!" One of the worker says to his friend. "I swear, makes me wish we didn't have to work outside of all places".
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His friend is sweating intensely, red in the face, as he sort of looks blankly forward and awkwardly says "Y-y-yeah..."
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His friend looks at him and wipes his brow. "Ozan, are you okay man? You don't look so good..."
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"Yeah, I'm just, I just... I..."
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His friend stumbles over and falls off of his platform, dropping a decent 10 feet to the grass below him. His friend looks at him and yells:
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"Ozan! Ozan, are you okay?!"
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The worker makes his way down to the ground and goes over to check on his friend. He's unconscious, but alive. He puts his hand in his forehead, and nearly has to pull it back due to how hot it is. He just looks at him for a moment before uttering to himself"
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"Sssssshit..."
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In Rachelgrad:
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A weapons factory foreman is sitting in his office, sweating heavily through his shirt and needing to fan himself constantly. One of his fellow workers come in and speak to him.
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"Hey man. The workers down on the factory floor can't keep working in these conditions, it's too hot. They held a vote and announced they'll be refusing to work any time during the day time hours".
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The foreman looks at the man infornt of him for a moment and blinks slowly, hydrating his incredibly dry eyes. He then sighs and says:
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"To hell with it, just close the factory for the day... Not like I want to be here too"
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The worker looks back at him, and while he was gonna bring up if it was really such a good idea considering the quotas they had, the headache that banged against his skull convinced him it was for the best. So he nodded and went out to inform the other workers.
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In TFT:
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A farmer is walking along his field. He is wearing a brimmed hat that is doing its best to protect him from the harshest of the sun's rays, and he carries a flask of water to keep himself from heat stroke.
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As he looks on at the crops, his brow furrows and he frowns. The wheat and corn plants are brown, dying. He looks down at the ground below them, it's cracked.
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He sighs as he continues walking alongside the field, seeing dehydrated plant after dehydrated plant. He figured there was enough to feed the animals and his own family, and the stockpiles should hold them over if the heat isn't making them expire...
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But the quotas. What about the quotas? These farms he worked on were to feed all of Tutum, not just him and his family. If the crop yield shrank too much...
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He sighs and wipes the sweat off of his brow. He shouldn't be worrying about this right now. He just goes back to inspecting the plants, though his anxiety rises with every dead crop.
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In Lapovo:
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Rachel is sitting in her office looking over paperwork and a map of the heatwave as one of her aides comes in.
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"Uhm, madam chairman".
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Rachel looks up at him and sighs.
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"Dear God, this is about the heatwave in Oborograd, Rachelgrad and TFT, isn't it? I know about it, I'm trying to figure it out, okay?!"
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The aide gulps a little and hands her some paperwork before he allows himself to speak.
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"These are the notes on the production output of the 3 cities this last week. Energy production in Oborograd is down 15% and at least 13 workers have been hospitalized for heat stroke and heatstroke related injuries. Weapon production in Rachelgrad is down 30%, and several factories have completely closed down during the day time. There are around 42 heat stroke and heatstroke related injuries there".
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Rachel puts her head in her hands and makes a noise that could only be described as between a groan and a scream before she looks back up at the aide.
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"Ughhhhh, why does nothing ever go my fucking way??? Is it seriously that hard to ask for one good day??? Is it??"
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The aide seems more uncomfortable than ever as he looks down at Rachel and, after opening and closing his mouth a couple times, manages to finally say:
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"Madam Chairman... There is a drought in TFT. Crop outputs are down 65% and it is predicted they'll get worse. 113 people have been hospitalized for heatstroke..."
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Rachel looks up at him for a moment. She stands up and, sighing, says calmly: "Could you please close your door on the way out?"
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He nods and leaves the room, closing the door on his way out.
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Just a few moments after closing the door, the aide hears a very loud bang, as if someone threw a chair across the room, and he hears Rachel scream at the top of her lungs through the door:
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"GOD DAMNIT!!!!!"
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I just wanted to share it here. After watching the finale Jax's character stuck with me really really hard. I'm a closeted trans woman and I have been for the last 3 years, but lately it has been feeling like something I just sort of live with without being too connected with. It felt like a background thing that defined my life in a way I didn't really understand nor did I plan to do anything about it.
​
But after seeing the finale I really got pushed back into recognizing my transness more because of Jax's story. She just reminded me of everything that can happen in the closet and how to make my way past it. I genuinely want to start coming out to people and get a GD diagnosis so I can start HRT soon, things I haven't seriously considered or thought about in a very long time. Jax's story just filled me with such an immense desire to be myself that actually translated into a desire for action I haven't felt for a long time.
​
That's sort of it, I just wanted to share it here. There's a very good chance Jax will be the reason I transition. And I think that really nice.
As a closeted trans woman, her story really stuck with me. Like, a lot. The finale fucked me up in a really good way lol. And I felt the need to write an essay bout it.
Union, Restaurant, Generic, Tom, and Sugar are sitting in a large AC less room in the imperial palace in Lapovo. Union, who spends most his time below the ground in cold caves, is having the most difficulty, constantly fanning himself with his shirt.
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"Couldn't the Khaness have at least invited us somewhere more comfortable to discuss whatever it is she means to discuss?" He says as he wipes the sweat fo his brow.
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"No, I could not have, in fact". As the guests here the voice they turn to the doorway and see the Khaness walking into the room with a tray of iced tea, offering it to them before sitting down.
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"I do apologize for bringing you out here in this heat, gentlemen, but it's important. You see, I've gathered all of you here since you are the members of the new Supreme Soviet of Tutum! And this will be our meeting place!"
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Everyone looks blankly at Rachel before she sort of awkwardly clears her throat and speaks.
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"Ahem, yes, I should, uh, probably explain what that means, shouldn't I? Basically the Supreme Soviet will coordinate the economies of the communes of Tutum, that's why you're all the newest members of it, you're the mayors of the communes. Uhh, for more information I've left the constitution under your seats".
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"The guests check under their seats and instead seea piece of paper labeled "Constitution of the Supreme Soviet of Tutum", which they begin to look over.
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"Wait a minute", Union interjects, "This isn't some big centralization is it? I don't want Evernight to be swallowed up by some up-down big management, we need to remain autonomous"
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Rachel mixes up her iced tea a little and speaks "Well, no, not at all. This isn't getting rid of any commune's independence, it's just making sure they operate more united and be able to fulfill each other's needs. Y'know, on the communal scale they're autonomous, it's just so we can act as one on the provincial scale".
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Union nods a little as he drinks his tea. Rachel looks at the other guests and, a little coily, asks "Well, does anyone else have anything to say?"
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Sugar speaks up and says "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here and go somewhere cooler, I'm sweating like a pig" to which the rest of the guests respond with indecipherable murmurs of agreement. Rachel chuckles a little and says "Yeah, yeah, you're right, it is quit hot. Let's go to my cellar, I'll also serve you up some wine and we can keep talking there".
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The rest of the people nod and follow Rachel to continue the discussion under more comfortable circumstances.
Alright, so, here's my list of books I wanna order:
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"Selections from the Prison Notebooks" by Antonio Gramsci, "The Permanent Revolution & Results and Prospects" by Leon Trotsky, "Revolutionary Suicide" by Huey P. Newton, and "A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia Volume II" by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari.
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An acquaintance ecommended I replace Trotsky with Nkhrumah's Neocolonialism, which I think could actually be a good idea.
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Basically I just wanted to know what y'all would reccomend else to change this reading list, if you'd change it.
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Note, I own the most important Marx, Engels, and Lenin texts, alongside Luxemburg, Trotsky, and Mao. I'll also tell you if you reccomend something I own.
Rachel is laying on her back in the soft grass outside Rhubarb's yurt. Her white dress is stained green and brown. She just lays there looking at the twilight sky. Rhubarb walks over and looks down at her holding some tea.
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"You know, you really should ride back over to civilization"
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Rachel squints as her face is covered by the shade of his body, before groaning.
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"Yeah, you're right! If only I knew how to get out of thi-"
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"You know how to get back, Rachel"
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Rachel looks up at him confused as Rhubarb sits down on the grass next to her.
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"I turned this place from an office into a yurt, you think I can't read you? You know perfectly the way to your home from here. For some reason, I don't exactly know why, you just don't want to".
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Rachel blanks out for a moment before she sighs.
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"And what is so wrong about that, huh? You know how much I worked before you took me here? You know what I've been hearing from the channels? I'm just... I'm just tired, okay? I don't wanna get back to all that work, alright? It's too much right now..."
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Rhubarb sips his tea and looks at her for a moment before looking over at the setting sun and bluntly saying:
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"The sun will set soon. You can't ride out right now. You'll stay in my yurt for another night until morning".
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Rachel sighs.
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"Thank you Rhubarb".
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"But tomorrow morning you're getting on the first horse you find and get out of here back to Tutum" Rhubarb says with a firm tone.
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Rachel, not exactly in the mood to argue, simply says.
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"Understood".
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So Rhubarb gets off the ground and enters his yurt again, while Rachel continues lying on her back and watching the sunset.