An October in Libreville: Difference between revisions
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It is early autumn, cold, October 1919. The world is recovering from war and the Spanish Flu. In national events, President Wilson suffered a stroke recently, and we have entered those last glorious months before the introduction of Prohibition. Scant weeks from now the Palmer Raids will visit mass deportation of leftists and radicals, part of the ongoing strife between the working class and the elites (represented in part by the likes of [[Willard Arthur Crump]] in the microcosm that is [[Libvil]]). The Libreville Sanitarium has just opened its doors for business, there's a new club opening downtown off what the locals call "Jazz Alley", and the mayoral elections are nigh. Oo-ray, oo-rah, the Roaring Twenties are upon us, friends! | It is early autumn, cold, October 1919. The world is recovering from war and the Spanish Flu. In national events, President Wilson suffered a stroke recently, and we have entered those last glorious months before the introduction of Prohibition. Scant weeks from now the Palmer Raids will visit mass deportation of leftists and radicals, part of the ongoing strife between the working class and the elites (represented in part by the likes of [[Willard Arthur Crump]] in the microcosm that is [[Libvil]]). The Libreville Sanitarium has just opened its doors for business, there's a new club opening downtown off what the locals call "Jazz Alley", and the mayoral elections are nigh. Oo-ray, oo-rah, the Roaring Twenties are upon us, friends! | ||
[[Miles Cressbeckler]] has a busy day ahead of him. He heads to [[St. Regina High School]] to recruit more kids to work at his print shop on Earle St. Only half of the last batch worked out, the rest were worthless lazy scamps. "Ah crud, what a mess," he says after stepping in a pile chewing gum. "And how" says a passerby. Now he's angry. He rounds the corner and sees school just letting out. Right on time, as always. Mr. Bradley, the Physical Education Teacher, sees him and beckons to a group of young men behind him. "Here is Mr. Cressbeckler. Don't talk back to him, now, and get you going with him!" he growls, his face pinched. "Thanks, Steve" Cressbeckler says. | [[Miles Cressbeckler]] has a busy day ahead of him. He heads to [[St. Regina High School]] to recruit more kids to work at his print shop on Earle St. Only half of the last batch worked out, the rest were worthless lazy scamps. "Ah crud, what a mess," he says after stepping in a pile of chewing gum. "And how" says a passerby. Now he's angry. He rounds the corner and sees school just letting out. Right on time, as always. Mr. Bradley, the Physical Education Teacher, sees him and beckons to a group of young men behind him. "Here is Mr. Cressbeckler. Don't talk back to him, now, and get you going with him!" he growls, his face pinched. "Thanks, Steve" Cressbeckler says. | ||
[[category: Infictive Tribe Saga]] | [[category: Infictive Tribe Saga]] | ||
Revision as of 05:34, 7 October 2010
It is early autumn, cold, October 1919. The world is recovering from war and the Spanish Flu. In national events, President Wilson suffered a stroke recently, and we have entered those last glorious months before the introduction of Prohibition. Scant weeks from now the Palmer Raids will visit mass deportation of leftists and radicals, part of the ongoing strife between the working class and the elites (represented in part by the likes of Willard Arthur Crump in the microcosm that is Libvil). The Libreville Sanitarium has just opened its doors for business, there's a new club opening downtown off what the locals call "Jazz Alley", and the mayoral elections are nigh. Oo-ray, oo-rah, the Roaring Twenties are upon us, friends!
Miles Cressbeckler has a busy day ahead of him. He heads to St. Regina High School to recruit more kids to work at his print shop on Earle St. Only half of the last batch worked out, the rest were worthless lazy scamps. "Ah crud, what a mess," he says after stepping in a pile of chewing gum. "And how" says a passerby. Now he's angry. He rounds the corner and sees school just letting out. Right on time, as always. Mr. Bradley, the Physical Education Teacher, sees him and beckons to a group of young men behind him. "Here is Mr. Cressbeckler. Don't talk back to him, now, and get you going with him!" he growls, his face pinched. "Thanks, Steve" Cressbeckler says.