The Iron Republic
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"Hell's client-state. Be wary. Their laws are not the laws of Man or Nature."
"Factory-engines roar like false lions. Blood thunders in the dock-pipes. Crimson lightning skitters across the deck, leaps to the rail, coils there like a cat. The city is reflected in glassy-calm harbour water: the citizens there have the heads of dogs and serpents."
"Hell has brought freedom to the Iron Republic: freedom from all laws, even those of nature."
The Iron Republic is a chaotic colony of Hell.
Who Needs Gravity?
The devils decided to experiment a bit, leaving the Republic permanently free of tyrants... and laws. All laws and tyrants. Including those humans previously thought were impossible to repeal, such as gravity. Visitors often stay until numbers stop working, or they will at least be subjected to constantly shifting norms. The laws change every day, with no rhyme or reason (except possibly protesters advocating a change to something more convenient, which is known to work on occasion). Due to the obvious lawlessness, the Republic is often considered a haven for anarchists and freedom fighters alike. As for the residents, they're often sent to work in the factories, where accidents are frequent and often result in liquefaction.
Today in the Iron Republic...
The following writing is not canon. Reload to possibly view another day!
<choose uncached=""> <option>– a boy and his mother built a snowman out of factory ashes. Or did the snowman build them? Would that make him or them an ash-man? I can't tell; they're all the same gray color. Everyone is gray here, the factories are gray, the beggars are gray, even the docks are gray. And by gray I mean screaming. The boy is screaming. The snowman is screaming. I am screaming – </option> <option>– the rain is finally here! Oh, how it beats down, relentless and choking, on my coat, my hat, my skin, my face. I can barely say a word without catching a mouthful of the stuff. This is not like the rain of the Surface, nor that of London. This the purest form of precipitation, this... is rain. And it hurts. As I take shelter under a tarp, I ask a man if it has ever rained small domestic animals. He laughs, his face the shape of an inbred donkey. "That was last week's rain, newcomer. Next week we're getting weasels and bats!"</option> <option>– the elephants have arrived! Good lord, the elephants are here. They are huge, ferocious, and they are utterly without mercy. And they hunger. In my desperation to escape, I rushed back to the docks, only to find that the bastards are amphibious. And they murdered a boat. Risking a glance at the streets, I noticed a rather bohemian lady chopping up unfortunate bystanders with an ax. While on fire. Jack-of-Smiles would be proud.</option> <option>– it is truly a new era for us all! A star has risen from below the ground, melting and burning, and I have just found out that water can melt. It doesn't make much sense. Anyway, fiery, melted water now covers every centimetre of the Republic's territory. Good thing my boots shrank this morning; otherwise I would have suffered the same fate as those who decided to go out with their soles covered today. They evaporated instantly, and are now gradually precipitating as very sad and green snowflakes. I am absolutely sure they will be fine though; as people say: "There's nothing that coffee from the House of Milks can't fix." Oh, they don't say that; that's actually a Market of Hungers promotion screaming inside my head. Anyway, the dragon is right there and ready, so I can have a drink at my leisure.
By Observator42 </option> </choose>
