Oops! All Exposition!
Why does the most fun part of writing have to be the least fun part to read?
I said I would be back quickly, and I am keeping that promise. Though my novel’s pace has slowed to a crawl, that does not mean nothing has gotten done. In fact, I just finished the most enjoyable chapter to write so far. I realized I had so much going on in this future society and such a broad perspective—we’re witnessing the fall of the global world order from the eyes of some very powerful people, you know—that just alluding to a wider world in the vocabulary and offhand references left readers confused and generally disengaged. There were too many questions coming up that did not stand very well as purposely unanswered. It’s not like Star Wars where the main characters go on so many adventures offscreen that they can just be referenced to add some texture to the dialogue. Fortunately, this was an enjoyable problem to solve.
I had already given myself the infrastructure to build world history directly into the narrative. Aside from Normandy’s and Gale’s perspectives, the story includes the writings of Cassius Adlai Singh, author of the seminal contemporaneous narrative to the Leviathan Group’s collapse. If one were writing a piece establishing the events involved in a pivotal moment during world history, it would be downright irresponsible to not include some chapters of background to give a reader context on where the major players in the conflict came from. There is however one small problem—”show, don’t tell” rules the narrative artistic discourse with an iron fist.
I’m not exactly trying to break any boundaries here. My first published novel is not going to be some masterpiece that totally upends the laws of fiction. Yet, into the abyss I have gone regardless. I have written an entire chapter of what is just essentially exposition. Nothing about The End of History - III advances the plot or develops the characters in any way. It exists exclusively to detail the history surrounding the Leviathan Group’s origin. In the chapter, Cassius gives a basic historical rundown of what has only been referred to as “The Great Mutiny”. You can glean much just from that—some internal rebellion of national militaries led to a supranational military organization that threatens to rain death down on any state that ignores their enforcement of peace. But I don’t think that’s enough—what I want to do is establish why such an organization could control the planet for two hundred years. What is the psychology of the people that decided to commit such an act? What was going through the minds of the common people that they would allow such a group to rise without protest?
I think it’s through this foundation that the chapter can stand in such a state. I’m not just telling the reader what happened. I constructed a whole sub-narrative of the moment the world changed forever. Now, whether or not this actually works isn’t really up to me, but I think I accomplish that goal well enough, and in an engaging way that doesn’t take people out of the story.
Anyway, I’ll leave it here for others to judge. I’ll pop in along the way to give clarification or throw in any commentary that I think might be interesting.
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The End of History - III
Written for The Caravan in collaboration with the Associated Press Sovereign Enclave
By Cassius Adlai Singh
“To know in war how to recognize an opportunity and seize it is better than anything else.”
Niccolò Machiavelli, Dell'arte della guerra
As stated earlier, the Leviathan Group designed a system that was basically completely paradoxical, existing only within extremes in all of its factors. For centuries this was understood and it was believed that this structure was so contradictory that it sustained itself completely because of the paradoxical nature of the organization, like the great Gateway Arch of St. Louis. Nothing else made sense, and the fact that it had not collapsed under its own weight moments after it’s creation fed into this hypothesis.
Check out the other chapter I’ve thrown in here for the reference to this paradoxical perspective Cassius (I mean me, but in-narrative it’s Cassius) is talking about.
Before the collapse the 2300 international census shines an excellent light on popular perception of The Group. All 11 billion nationals and enclavers were asked if they agree or disagree with the statement that “The Leviathan Group is tyrannical and authoritarian and holds a complete monopoly on violence over all states and organizations” 85 percent of the population agreed. The very next question was: “do you believe the Leviathan Group is the best option for societal protection and protection of both individual rights as well as minority and repressed groups?” On this one, 75 percent stated that they agreed. The results were anonymous and overseen by representatives from seven states and four enclaves, and the exact wording of each question was agreed upon by a supermajority vote in the International Forum. Once again, the counterforce keeps the top of the arch held together from both sides collapsing into each other.
This part is a bit wobbly for me—am I damaging the pacing or making people check out by bringing up fake statistics? In my college-brained head it seems totally logical, but to more traditional readers the decision might look kind of absurd. If anyone has any thoughts please let me know.
As a modern person, at least before everything fell apart, it would be hard to understand just how scarring the events that led to the creation of the Group were for humanity. Not a single nuclear weapon detonated, so every single one of the two hundred thousand deaths that day were from sheer mass panic. Nations, states, are built upon the people that live in them and the traditions or ideals that define them. Without either of those a nation ceases to exist, yet on that day every single person in the world was individually and personally betrayed by their own nation. Some may have even agreed that nuclear force was necessary, but when everything came down to it and the skies filled with the booster-glows of thousands upon thousands of warheads bearing down on the planet to ruin it forever, no one could support what they saw.
It was fortunate, then, that the prevalence of each military’s space forces had developed the cultures that they did. They were not steeped in tradition of the armies and navies that had fought the wars of every century previously. And the people we agreed to launch into space regardless of nationality for over a century always seemed to produce common bonds with the few others that had done the same, regardless of their states’ geopolitical situation. Even by the 2090s when a decent amount of civilians had been using space elevators and orbiters for transport this persisted, the nature of space’s dangers creating a necessary rapport between the soldiers. There was still tension and cross-cultural friction, but these people existed on literally a different plane than everyone else. They were constantly looking down at the earth with a view so few had ever seen before. Thus when push came so thoroughly to shove it is understandable they would betray their nations before they would watch the species die on their space stations and war crafts.
Not a single one of the nukes even detonated. The lasers deactivated them and they fell harmlessly to the ground. The most damage done, as far as I could tell, was one of the missiles fell on some scooter parking in Topeka and totaled about 14 vehicles. The sigh let out by the collective species came out more like an incredulous gasp. In the face of existential destruction the strangest and least likely outcome had prevailed, and it left everyone as confused as they were relieved. It took 15 seconds for every warring state to collect themselves in their bunkers and prepare for a reaction to the defections. It would have taken them another 47 seconds to fire off the K-SIDs—last-ditch weapons prepared for this eventuality intended to induce Kessler Syndrome, throwing a debris cascade around the planet and annihilating all satellite emplacements.
Yes, I know I already said that none of the nukes detonated—I caught this when I put it in here and I like to leave mistakes that I caught when I let people behind the curtain like I’m doing here. That, and I don’t want to go through the trouble of proofreading when I’m not even 30% done with the first draft.
Unfortunately, for these states, the Mutineers had a 2-minute head start before the interceptions were triggered and were already coordinating on a tactical level. It only took another 23 seconds for the next phase the plan to trigger. The launch sites for space travel—Canaveral, Baikonur, Kourou, Shriharikota, Jiuquan, and Kimotsuki were turned into craters within half an hour, as well as dozens of military installations in every major power. Most second strike capabilities were neutralized, even with some submarines escaping it would not be nearly enough to challenge the Mutineers. The states retaliated by assaulting and arresting any ground-based assets of the space forces, but it was clear that this was far too late. According to legend, J.F. Manner, commander of the US Space Force, was found in his office—whisky in hand, cigar puffing from his mouth, cackling as he was bound and not stopping till he was pushed into a cruiser.
Those that read my Dinner Party chapter may catch that the space launch sites share names with the sectors that divide and govern Leviathan Group weaponry. Kinda like they adopted the names as organizational culture, like a state’s military naming vehicles after people they’ve conquered. I don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but it kinda seems like the US names helicopters exclusively after Native American groups or people.
Also, this is an integration for literally the first piece of this world I introduced—my first thought about the Leviathan Group was an organization that used the names of major current-day space centers as area designations in the satellite network. They’re the main launch sites for the US, Russia, the European Space Agency (though Kourou is in French Guyana), India, China, and Japan respectively.
It was only another 5 minutes before the EMPs detonated, likely however much time was needed to record a statement. The face of general Tai Wang, formerly commander of the PLASF, appeared suddenly on nearly every screen on the planet. The statement has been transcribed below:
PLASF stands for “People’s Liberation Army Space Force) which does not exist, but all their other forces are named like that. “People’s Liberation Army Navy” is kinda a funny name. Maybe it makes more sense in Chinese?
“All peoples of the world, please stop what you are doing and listen to this message. As of less than an hour ago, a coalition of the collective space forces of all states involved in the orbital war seized control of the laser interception systems surrounding the planet, and have destroyed every warhead active in the air. We have, at this moment, neutralized all retaliatory systems able to affect the satellite networks. All defenses to our weapons have been rendered nonfunctional.
In three days time we will convene a summit at the former United Nations Headquarters in New York City. All world leaders and other figures of importance are encouraged to attend. The purpose of this summit will be singular—we, the Mutineers Group, will dictate to the planet the shape of the new world order. In these following days before, we will be putting in place an electromagnetic blackout across the globe that will render all electronics unusable. We apologize for the inconvenience this will cause, but is necessary for consolidation.
This blackout will be engaged thirty seconds after the message ends. Thank you for your attention—you are now, finally, safe.”
Right on schedule, several thousand electromagnetic pulses triggered, throwing the entire planet into darkness. Fortunately, all civilian flights had been grounded during the nuclear launches and medical facilities around the world generally had backup systems to keep them working. The Commission for International Health created a report on wrongful death during this period as one of its first actions. They found there were only 160 people who died as a direct result of the EMP. Compared to the civilization-ending event that had just been narrowly avoided and the 200 thousand deaths recorded simply from the chaos of impending nuclear annihilation, this was seen as an unfortunate but necessary loss.
In terms of method of execution, I think this is a good encapsulation for what I’m trying to do. I’m not actually just giving the reader information—I’m attempting to create an explanation for the psyche of this world. In the UK my workshop really latched onto the dystopia aspect because I had no way to give them an understanding of why the world was like this. I mean, why would any normal person accept their life and not fall into existential terror at the idea that millions of doomsday weapons govern their existence? Well, this is how—flashpoints in history are a traumatic experience. Even moments of jubilation are inherently traumatic, if we consider the word as meaning something causing acute distress on functions of a system. Usually this is applied to the self, but a society upending itself causes incredible trauma as well—because it is forcing the paradigm and status quo to change. In the West we consider the fall of the Soviet Union to be a moment of societal glee climaxing with a party that tears down the literal dividing wall that acted as a symbol of this moment in history. I agree with this, of course, but it is important to realize that there are hundreds of millions of people for which this moment caused irreparable damage to their lives, just like a world war. I am trying to make the reader understand that humanity was seconds away from immolating itself, and only through the betrayals of an ad-hoc coalition of international military forces did they survive.
For anyone who still might take issue with just how perpetual and existential the threat of the network would be, think of it this way—we all collectively live under a far more terrifying doomsday scenario. Chances are if you live in a mid-sized or larger city anywhere in Europe, the US, or East/South Asia, there is a nuclear weapon aimed at you at all times. We have come to the brink of societal annihilation at least twice in the last century and didn’t even know until much later. There are over two dozen atomic warheads that have been lost since 1945 by the US alone. And a multipolar system is inherently less stable than a unipolar one—nine countries possess nuclear weapons, each of which could unilaterally commit to a course of action that will end civilization and potentially even our species. There’s a decent chance you’re already aware of this at least on some level, and if you’re a functioning person have either handled this information when you learned it or have since recovered from the existential crisis it sent you into. But still, maybe you accept it because that’s just the way the world is, yet there was a time where this was a totally novel concept. Just as with my Mutiny, the trauma inflicted on the human psyche by the Second World War is unimaginable to us today. Never before in our entire history have we caused death and destruction on such an incomprehensible scale, or ended a war by deploying a barely-tested superweapon like the atomic bombs.
This was supposed to be a random thought that has no gone on for way too long so I won’t throw statistics at you, but to get in the mindset properly one should look at the death tolls and the extermination programs over those years and try to put themself into the mindset that there was a generation where this had just happened. Would you not take drastic, existentially terrifying measures to stop that from happening again? And for the record, the era of mutually-assured destruction actually did essentially bring world peace. The Cold War was brutal and exhausting for many, but at the same time it was still one of the most peaceful times in history. Even now in our current shitshow and the other shitshows of the 21st century we live in the least violent period in human history, and a large part of that can be attributed to the warheads we aim at each other in perpetuity. Okay, back to the chapter!
The lights came back on three days later, just as had been promised. Immediately, all screens were tuned to footage of the UN Building, where the most influential people on the planet were clearly acquiescing to the new paradigm. Hundreds of cars rolled up, though not a single flying vehicle—the threat of another EMP was too high—and out stepped a constant stream of state leaders, corporate executives, and other influential figures. The immediate sight, even outside, was one of shock. In the night, the flags of the world’s nations had been taken from their poles, as well as the massive sky-blue banners that flanked the building even after the dissolution of the United Nations itself. In their place were the black-and-grey banners of what we now know was the Leviathan Group.
This was the first moment anyone outside of the Mutineers had seen the banners, with their minimalistic, brutal design. 200 years removed from this moment the Group flag has always appeared boring or drab. It is a matter-of-fact statement of purpose drawn out on a fabric rectangle. We are aware that the black represents space, while the small circle represents our planet and the triangle around it symbolizes the satellite network. It is an excellent representation of the Group itself—intimidating, obscure, but ultimately it was always exactly what it said on the tin. But at this first moment, these banners were looked upon with abject terror. For many, it must have appeared that they had been ripped from the frying pan and thrown straight into the fire.
After a few hours of arrivals, one single helicopter landed on the top of the building. It was entirely grey and not a recognizable model—we now know it was an experimental Indian design—but everyone was instantly aware of who it could be. In a world where an EMP or orbital laser could take you out of the air at any moment, only one group could afford to fly. Out stepped officers of over a dozen militaries, but with all of their markings removed. There were olive greens, deep blues, one maroon, and a few black uniforms, but they were all flat colors—uninterrupted by sashes, epaulets, medals, symbols, ranks, or names. General Tai was recognizable just by his face—as well as J.F. Manner, who clearly must have been released in a further humiliation for the US government. As far as we know, these two men had never been in a room together and had been professional rivals for decades. Yet now here they stood, on the top of the skyscraper, looking down together at the leaders they swore their lives to just days earlier.
The strangeness of this sight continued as the building was opened. The building was undergoing conversion into a museum, and so the whole thing was covered in construction equipment. The loss of status also removed most of the security and organizational safeguards, so the crowd dumped itself through the doors. The news crews on the scene managed to capture the image from every angle, and it came to define the new world order for the public instantly, before they even entered the chamber. The throng was made up of thousands of panicked faces, stricken with this ruination of their status. A town’s worth of the most powerful people in the world streamed through the halls with confusion, grief, terror, and eventually resignation. The security was sparse but heavily armed, wearing the camouflage of a dozen states but with markings torn off or patched over. Most of the soldiers wore their protection on top of their fatigues, as if to cover up as much national identity as possible.
The officers flanking the doors to the general assembly wore what looked like tailored mechanic’s jumpsuits, their heads adorned with hastily-stitched charcoal berets. The doors began to open while the intercom chimed.
“Please enter the assembly in an organized fashion, seating is on a first-come-first-served basis.” The message repeated in several other languages, sending a wave of uproar through the crowd as more nationalities understood the message. First-come-first-served was not a phrase uttered in the halls of power, who had spent over a century being announced individually as their delegations entered the room. Everyone realized suddenly that this was not a summit—they were not delegates, but attendees. If they were lucky, they would be getting a town hall, but more likely they were here to see an address.
This did not go over well with the throng. Halfway through their numbers was where the famous photo of chancellor Hans Bourdain screaming at a soldier clad in a once-German uniform was taken, for any other photohistory aficionados that may recognize the moment. For those unaware, the camera captured the man forcefully jabbing his finger into the chest of a former German sergeant, presumably from the European Orbital Defense Force. It has since fallen into obscurity with most other historically-significant pictures, but for a time it was one of the most important taken in history. It was used on the cover of TIME the following month.
There were not nearly enough seats for every person, so most funneled into the pathways or were pushed up against the wall of the chamber. They looked more like thousands of journalists waiting for a press conference than the most powerful figures on the planet. Eventually the doors closed, and some were even shut out of the chamber entirely. When Tai Wang rose to the podium, no one clapped and no one sitting stood out of their chair. Even from the footage one could feel the malevolent energy surging from the throng toward that man in the middle, but he showed no reaction. General Tai wasted no time in his speech, delving right into the meat of the most important questions in the world. I have included excerpts of the transcript below.
“Fellow citizens of Earth” he began. “For four hundred years human society has languished under the boot of states. At one point, it was the preferable option to the violent anarchies of feudalism and empire, which in turn was formed as the best alternative to barbarism and clan structures. Ever since man climbed out of the trees and walked on its hind legs we have progressed through new forms of organization, each one casting off vestigial pieces in order to improve our collective welfare. This, I have come to believe—along with many of my comrades—is the purpose which humanity serves. This cycle will continue into eternity as we build and grow and prune and burn what we need as it becomes necessary to do so. That time, that moment in our infinite cycle, has come once again.”
He continued. “Until three days ago, each state held a monopoly on the use of force over their respective territories, and never over each other. Today, I declare this to be the first branch of society to be pruned.” A murmur rose from sections in the crowd. “There is now only a single monopoly on violence—us.” The sound increased in volume, and isolated shouts of insults were hurled at the general. “As of three days ago, all military satellite systems are under the exclusive control of the Leviathan Group.”
This was the first moment where the Group’s name was revealed to the public. They now had an entity to attach to the banners that flew in place of the national flags in the plaza, and draped the sides of the building. Portions of the crowd realized immediately the significance of the name, while others sat, still dumbfounded at what they were witnessing.
“Under our stewardship, never again shall the doomsday weapons of states endanger the common people of this planet. They are directed at only a few targets—any state that disturbs the peace will have its leadership annihilated, as completely and thoroughly as it takes until someone is willing to return to normalcy. You all are aware of our capabilities, there is no bluff here to be called. You have given us the power to enforce this while staying completely true to our mission. None of your citizens need be affected by our retaliations, but you, for the first time, will.
“If this perturbs you, if you feel the need to hurl obscenities my way and decry me as a tyrant, I will let you. You are afforded the same liberties as individuals that you had three days ago, but as states the sanctity of you sovereignty is at an end. I am but a voice to the millions of people under your command that were betrayed by you when you launched your missiles, who made the heroic sacrifice to forsake the nations of their birth in order to save the world. And in that betrayal, find perspective in how the nine billion innocents of this world must have felt when you decided to betray them all, wiping each other out over arbitrary definitions of land controlled only through violence. You have hurt them more than you can possibly know, and we have saved them…”
I shall skip ahead somewhat to later in this speech. At one point in between the protestations of the crowd reached a fever pitch, but general Tai simply waited, arms crossed, until it died back down. It looked as if he were a frustrated schoolteacher, and not the most powerful person on the planet. He continues for a few minutes, eventually saying:
“…Now, make no mistake—while we are completely upending the notion of state sovereignty, the Leviathan Group by no means intends to claim any territory. We hold no dominion over any part of the planet, and make no intentions to govern any population. Our mandate extends to the collective defense of humanity, and no further. We shall control everything past the stratosphere, but shall go no further down the gravity well…”
This statement seemed to calm the nerves of the crowd somewhat, though tension still filled the air as General Tai came to the end of his speech. The reality began to set in for most of the chamber that there was simply nothing that could be done. The paradigm had shifted away from them, and it would not swing back anytime soon—if it ever would at all.
“…The work is not finished, even though the battle is. The new world order shall not be built on the vision of a single polity, but by the now-unshackled representatives of the planet. In the coming months, an international convention shall be called to determine what this system shall look like. The Leviathan Group will oversee this debate, and shall participate as a member, but we will allow the people and their organizations—as equal actors to the attending states—to decide the shape of the future. Certain things shall be set in stone before the convention, but the vast majority of issues will be up to debate. We shall take on responsibilities granted to us by the following charter after its ratification, and will accede to restrictions on our own power. It is not the goal of the Leviathan Group to rule humanity, but to protect it. Thank you all for your understanding—we hope to hear your perspectives when we meet again.”
With that, General Tai left the stage, went back to the roof, and flew away on his helicopter. Contrary to his statement, he would not personally be attending the convention, held six months later in Beijing’s Great Hall of the People. With power secured, his position as the singular Caretaker of the Group was no longer needed, and power was decentralized under the Directorate. Over these months, each sector and section was carved out under the directors, and each of their commands were filled by near-random gatherings of former soldiers and officers of every state. The final piece of the organizational puzzle was now in place—the denationalization of Group members effectively erased their cultural identities. The Leviathan Group was—literally—above all the nations. It had been born out of simultaneous international mass defection, and as the months went by its ranks quickly filled with personnel from states that were not originally included. The only thing that would bring it down now were the cultural rifts between its own members, so these vestigial pieces of their identities were stripped from them before they could cause any problems for the nascent rulers of humanity. If this caused any issues, or any members harbored sympathy or malevolence towards their foreign peers I do not know. The records available to me did not mention any incidents, and no general discord was recorded.
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The chapter ends right there, and though it finishes abruptly I kinda like it that way. It is not the end of the history chapters (that was totally unintentional, by the way) and the next one covers the same convention in the Hall of the People mentioned at the end. I have barely started writing that one, but I think it will likely be far more difficult to keep compelling. Instead of getting to write the play-by-play of narrowly-avoided nuclear apocalypse, I will be writing about the creation of the enclaves and the specific powers afforded to the Leviathan Group. Sounds like absolutely riveting stuff, right?
Anyway, I think this chapter still has a decent way to go before it is actually giving the exposition in an interesting fashion However, in an effort to avoid editing myself to death I have chosen to ignore it until I have progressed through writing other parts of the book. I am unsure if this is a good idea since nearly all my writing has been confined to a classroom space where I get feedback often—it’s possible that I grow the narrative in such an awful direction that without doing some pruning I end up with an unworkable manuscript after the first draft is finished. But regardless, it all still feels essential to include this chapter and others like it within the novel. It might be an issue later in the story to bring everything to a crawl for a history lesson, but I get a good opportunity at the start of the narrative to give the reader the context of the world. I am not writing from an epic or mythical perspective, so shrouding events in mystery that the characters themselves would know will damage the narrative and likely leave people confused. Instead, by writing from a historical perspective it creates the opportunity to build out the historical lens with which this society is viewed, and enhances the narrative just as context does in a real-life historical narrative. It is impossible to understand the global paradigm of 2025 without also knowing the background of the events of 1945, so I see little reason to treat the novel’s narrative any differently.
I have little more to say at this point, hopefully the chapter and my commentary gave you something to think about. I clearly have massively improved my article turnaround (going from several months to only several weeks—at this pace I’ll be putting out an article every few hours within the month) and I’ve got a couple of ideas in the chamber. At some point I want to do a deep dive into the social science that serves as a foundation for the novel’s narrative—orbital militarization was the topic of my undergrad thesis so I have a bunch of thoughts on the subject rattling around in my head, much of it completely unrelated to the story. I also want to do a bit of writing on my new single that I put out on streaming last month.
In that vein, I beg everyone to listen to “Agoraphobia” by Mitch Cooper Walsmith wherever you stream your music. I am really proud of the song, especially the lyricism which focuses on the current political situation of the state of Iowa. Also, the masterful musician and good friend Eamon Reed performed the bass part on a standup bass, which is worth hearing for anyone even when ignoring the rest of the song.
That’s enough rambling for today I think. Go out and enjoy this completely screwed-up super nice weather while you still can!