Edith summoned Lena, Christoph and his comrades to the living room. A flatscreen television set was relaying the official media of the Federalist American Union’s ruling party, the Greater American Federalist Party. Grabbing the remote from a glass coffee table, she turned the TV off and addressed the others. Wilhelm and Andreas were slouched on a sofa, Max sitting upright on a recliner beside Christoph. Lena spoke to her sister. “What’s going on, sis?”    

            “Christoph and his friends are here to do research on the FAU,” Edith stated. “He requested our help with their research, so I asked him if they could help the family business.” She paid brief glimpses of Andreas, Max, and Wilhelm. “You three are fine with working at a uniform store?”

            “Depends on what we’ll be doing over there,” Wilhelm answered.

            “Likewise,” Max concurred.

            “The German Reich and the other victors aren’t State Capitalists,” Andreas snorted in a disapproving voice. “Millions fought and died for a better world in the past two centuries.” He crossed his legs. “Nobody here works anywhere abroad unless it’s related to their Vocation as part of an official Real Trade Agreement between two or more nations. I don’t recall the FAU having signed even a single RTA with the Fatherland.” 

            “Of course, you’ll be paid well as part-timers,” Edith said. “What’s the problem?”

            “You don’t get it, do you?” he chortled. “My comrades and I have Legal Rights to know how much of our Arbeit and Geld goes to the FAU and the Fatherland. We also deserve to know whether our payments are in Federalist Notes, German Marks or Foreign Exchange Certificates.”

            “What the hell is a ‘Foreign Exchange Certificate?’” Lena pondered.

            “A parallel currency used by most countries to limit how much Geld enters the coffers of foreigners,” Wilhelm explained. “Usually, people spend them on imported wares or to allow governments to obtain foreign currencies. The best way to get actual foreign currencies is to work directly under a ‘Foreign Enterprise’ in another country.”

            “Then what do you want us to do?” Edith asked Andreas.

            “If you want us to work for your family business,” he replied, “You need to pay us in these Federalist Notes that the FAU is putting into circulation. Only then will we be able to carry out the Legal Duties of working at that uniform store.” 

            Christoph turned to Edith. “Andreas prefers to be stickler when it comes to following things by the book,” he explained. “That’s what makes him my personal secretary.”   

            “But because this is related to our research,” Andreas continued, adjusting his posture, “We don’t need to worry about whether there is an RTA between the FAU and the Fatherland.” 

***

            The shopping mall in King of Prussia was converted into a ‘Shopping Citadel’ by the Federalists to revitalize the town. Closed shops and stores reopened under new names and younger owners to reflect the postwar economy. Renovation occurred throughout the premises, as empty shelves were being restocked with domestic merchandise. Signs planted next to doorway, announcing what will be established upon completion of all renovations.

            Future site of King of Prussia Commissariat of Wage and Prices branch, one sign read. Other nearby signs declared plans to establish a bank, inn, convention, and a Kontor for handling National-Socialized Financial Instruments such as Fiefs and Work-Plans. Down the corridor was the uniform store that belonged to the Emmerich family. The apparel on the racks were the official regulation uniforms of the new Federalist Student Economy and Student Government. 

From the storeroom in the back, Max and Edith carried plastic mannequins to the storefront. Setting them at the storefront, they dressed the mannequins in white long-sleeve blouse shirts and red neckties. The male mannequins got blueish-gray trousers, whereas the female ones had matching V-neck dresses. Max and Edith draped the torsos in light blueish-gray double-breasted jackets sporting black buttons, front pockets, shoulder boards with red piping, and Sam Browne belts. They crowned the heads with kepi, garrison and tri-corner caps, and peaked officer’s caps bearing the black and white Federalist cockade. Polished black and brown knee-length jackboots and ankle-length boots, penny loafers and saddle shoes, spats and wingtips completed the mannequins’ getups.

Edith and Max walked out of the store to observe the mannequins from the corridor. The colors of the clothing worn by the mannequin invoked the image of the old American Patriots, whose Revolutionary War turned America into a national idea. Edith cracked a smile. “Isn’t it a beautiful sight to behold, Maxmillian?” she tilted her head at Max.

“I can totally imagine them being led by Baron vom Stein at home and Baron von Steuben in battle,” Max chuckled. “The original Federalists had a vision of what America should become, but that vision nearly died by these Liberal Capitalists, the Jeffersonians, from the Democratic-Republican Party. Today, it seems to be reborn here.”

“Yeah,” she concurred, “It makes me wonder why the original Federalist Party disbanded and whether important lessons could be imparted to the new Greater American Federalist Party.”  

“Let’s head back inside,” he told her.

They returned to the storefront, passing by the wooden skeletons of two unfinished kiosks. Upon reentering the store, Edith resumed her conversation with Max as they approached the cash register. “Anyway,” she spoke, “How do things work in the German Reich?”

            “Democracy always begins in the workplace,” Max spoke. “There’s more to it than simply casting a ballot or buying this and that product.” His finger gestured at her and himself. “You’re the Administrator–our employer–and we’re the Vocational Civil Servants you’ve employed.” He pointed at Christoph, who was stocking shoeboxes on some shelves. “Every few years, we vote for a Delegate from among our ranks to speak on our behest at a local Council.”

            “Is it true that all Enterprises in the victors’ countries are owned and operated by their States?” she mused.

            “That’s just prewar propaganda peddled by the Liberal Capitalists,” he corrected her. “All Enterprises are split between ‘State Enterprises’ and ‘Social Enterprises’, the latter being Enterprises owned and operated by collective groups like cooperatives or even local municipalities. They always have an Economic Planner and Accountants to oversee their contributions of Arbeit to the State. An Inspector routinely visits them to evaluate their handiwork. More recently, the rise of Student Economies late in the last century led to the rise of ‘Student Enterprises’ and ‘Digital Enterprises.’”  

            The more Max answered her questions, the more she was left with other questions. Curiosity compelled her to pester him further. “Then how do their peoples create wealth?”

“It’s really simple once you get used to it,” he responded. “Somebody creates a product or renders a service to receive Geld. In return for keeping the Geld for themselves and their Enterprise, they must disclose how much Arbeit was created from production processes and transactional sales to Economic Planners. Official rates for how much Arbeit is generated from economic activities are decided by the people at ‘State Commissariats of Wages and Prices.’” 

            He went on to elaborate further. “All State and Social Enterprises compete for the highest Quality of Arbeit to yield the most Geld within Tournaments. Unlike Markets, Tournaments facilitate all contributions of Arbeit to the State’s ‘Life-Energy Reserve’, which gives different currencies their values. Even the State contributes its own Arbeit to the Life-Energy Reserve.”

            “And if the State is self-sufficient enough to contribute Arbeit…”

            “Then there is little need to impose various taxes to procure funds like in Neoliberalism.”  

            “Astonishing, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah, there would be no reason to engage in privatization.” 

At the cash register, Edith hurried around the store counter, opening the till and almost grabbing the tray. She almost forgot to check the amount of Geld inside the till earlier this morning. Andreas, who was standing beside her, shook his head in dismay. “I already checked it,” he said.

            “You did?” Edith mused, pushing the till back into the register. “When?”

            “While you and Max were outside,” Andreas explained. “If you don’t trust me, you can always have your sister take over for me. I’d be more than willing to handle the accounting work or the restocking and inventory with Christoph and Wilhelm.”

            “That won’t be necessary!” Edith quipped. “I got carried away earlier.”

            As Wilhelm and Lena stepped out of the storeroom, an older man and his entourage entered the storefront. He and his entourage wore uniforms similar to the mannequins, chests adorned with various medals and a metal nameplate. The older man in particular limped with a cane, an eyepatch covering his left eye. Three foreign medals were pinned to his tunic: a Soviet jubilee medal commemorating the centennial of Vladimir Lenin’s birth, a Mao-era Chinese Government’s Friendship Award, and a Silver Order of the German Eagle. His nameplate read, Emmerich. 

            “Dad,” Edith called out, waving at him, “It’s so great to see you here!”

            “That man is their father?” Wilhelm whispered to Andreas from behind the counter.

            “According to Christoph,” Andreas whispered back, “His name is Gottfried Emmerich, the General Secretary of the Greater American Federalist Party. Apparently, he fought in several proxy wars as a mercenary of sorts over the last forty years.”

Christoph and Max saluted Emmerich. While shaking hands with Christoph and Max, Emmerich spoke to his daughters. “Are these three boys your cousin’s comrades?” 

“They certainly are,” Lena retorted.

“What brings the four of you to the Federalist American Union?” Emmerich asked them.

“Uncle,” Christoph responded in a sincere tone, “We have been tasked by the Adalbert Institute to conduct research on the postwar economies of emerging American nations. We agreed to help the family business in order to gather research.”   

“You have come at an ideal moment,” Emmerich boasted. “However, the family business will not get you very far in your research unless you are all interested in overseeing the upcoming national elections.”

“We did not come to America to do menial tasks, even if it pays well,” Andreas voiced.

“Then perhaps I might interest you and Christoph in carrying some assignments on behalf of the Greater American Federalist Party and the Federalist American Union,” Emmerich said. “Consider them as a way to expedite your research on the emerging American nations.”

Max confided his thoughts to Wilhelm and Andreas. “Why do I get the feeling that we’ll be sent off on some dangerous missions?”

“If it will contribute to our research,” Christoph told his uncle, “Then I have no reason to refuse such a worthwhile offer.” He addressed his comrades. “Am I right, comrades?”

“No objections from us,” acknowledged Andreas. 

“Good,” Emmerich replied. “Be sure to leave for New York in the next few days. I will provide more information once you are there.”

***

            The sun faded in the west as the Manhattan skyline flickered back to life for the first time since the war. As electrical power returned to entire neighborhoods in the distance, the LED lights of a parking garage overlooking Lower Manhattan dispelled the darkness. An idle Ford sedan was abandoned on the upper floors, the car keys still left in the ignition. The car was one of several vehicles parked on the entire floor, license plates issued by the Federalist government.

A V8 engine roared from one of the lower floors. Christoph’s Volkswagen pulled over behind the vehicle. He and his comrades got out of their car, leaving the doors open as they plodded toward the Ford. “Are you sure this is the dead drop?” Andreas asked Christoph.

“I’m certain that it is,” Christoph answered, whipping out a spare car key and using it to unlock the Ford’s trunk.

The trunk contained a briefcase, a sealed packet, and a few musical instrument cases. Max strolled to the driver’s seat. “What the hell?” he murmured at the sight of two ammo boxes left on the floor of the backseat. 

Back at the trunk, Christoph grabbed the sealed packet, tearing it open with his Reichsjugend dagger and pulling out several sheets of folded paper. He unfolded the papers to discover a message from Gottfried Emmerich, addressed to him and his comrades.  

The message read, The Federalist American Union’s transition to a Council Democracy is far from ideal for the Greater American Federalist Party. The GAFP leadership is concerned that somebody within the government is plotting an illegal seizure and inspiring a rebellion that might undo everything the war had achieved. Federalist police forces are too preoccupied dealing with partisan bands in the FAU territories west of Pennsylvania. We also cannot expect the occupation forces to act unless we provide enough evidence.

An internal investigation by the GAFP was ruled out early on because the plotters have already aroused our suspicions, the message continued. What we have been able to determine so far is that the plotters have connections to criminal organizations operating on the black market, several State Enterprises in the FAU, and two other parties vying for seats in the Congress of Councils. Your first priority is to visit our contact here in New York, who we have instructed to pass along additional intelligence to begin your own investigation. Bring the briefcase to them. 

            “America keeps getting better and better with each passing minute,” Christoph muttered under his throat. Handing the papers and the unsealed packet to Wilhelm, he pulled the briefcase by the handle and discovered bundles of Federalist Notes in $1,000 banknotes, each one bearing a portrait of John Lowell Jr., an influential member of the original Federalist Party.  

            The musical instruments functioned as disguised cases designed to carry concealed firearms. Four P250 handguns, an MP24 submachine gun, a Winchester M1897 pump-action shotgun, and a K8 carbine sporting a high-powered scope. “I think those guns are supposed to be meant for us, Christoph,” Wilhelm opined.

            “And the ammunition was left in the backseat,” Max added.

            “Where did your uncle get the guns from?” Andreas asked. 

            “I don’t know, Andreas,” Christoph said, “But something tells me that we’ll need them.” He closed the briefcase. “I just hope we all spent enough time at the range back home.”   

Categories: Blog Post

Tags: Economics, Federalist Party, Fiction, Finance, Hamiltonianism, Philosophy, Politics, Psychology, Socialist Finance, Third Place, United States, Work-Standard