Scotland Before the Bomb Read online

  © 2019 by M.J. Nicholls

  Illustrations © 2019 by Alan Lyons

  All Rights Reserved.

  Printed in Great Britain and the United States of America.

  Set in Williams Caslon Text with LATEX.

  ISBN: 978-1-944697-80-8 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-944697-92-1 (ebook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019942816

  Sagging Meniscus Press

  www.saggingmeniscus.com

  For my very Scottish parents

  Contents

  Editor’s Introduction

  “A Report on the Uptilting of Cromarty” [ROSS & CROMARTY]

  “The Potential Country” [ARGYLL & BUTE]

  “The Last Man in Skye” [ISLE OF SKYE]

  “Festival ∞” [EDINBURGH]

  “The Republic of Hugh” [MORAY]

  “InfoJog” [CLACKMANNAN]

  “Q+A with Hank Righteous” [SUTHERLAND]

  “Trip Advisor Reviews” [SPEAN BRIDGE]

  “The Fictional Village of Echt” [ECHT]

  “Vestibule Chairs” [ANGUS]

  “The Sound of No” [PERTH]

  “Just a Lifetime” [BRAEMAR]

  “The McCulloch Inheritance” [BANFF]

  “Tickertape of Misery” [FIFE]

  “I’m Still Sorry” [SELKIRK]

  “The Cleft of Hate” [ORKNEY]

  “The Sport of Kickballs” [LANARK]

  “The Really Real” [DUNDEE]

  “Why the Camels?” [AYR]

  “ ” [ROXBURGH]

  “The Mnemoshop” [PEEBLES]

  “The Smog” [STIRLING]

  “The Courting of Tchuh” [BERWICK]

  “Kibbitz from the Kibbutz” [ABERDEEN]

  “The Literary Utopia” [WIGTOWN]

  “Pictures of Presidents” [DUMFRIES]

  “In Session with Kristin Sump” [INVERNESS]

  “Prawn Confusion” [SHETLAND]

  “Diary of a Pineapple Holder” [KIRKCUDBRIGHT]

  “Realm of Sapo” [LOTHIANS]

  “When Four Tribes Live Peacefully in Punctuation” [KINCARDINE]

  “The Misanthropists” [KINROSS]

  “Tetris in Thurso” [CAITHNESS]

  “Quiz” [DUNBARTON]

  “Aleatoria” [NAIRN]

  “Textual Dysfunction” [GLASGOW & RENFREW]

  “Appendix: The Isles” [SEE ABOVE]

  INTRODUCTION

  IT IS A WELL-DOCUMENTED historical fact that on May 12, 2060, the country formerly known as Scotland was completely destroyed in a series of merciless nuclear missile strikes from Luxembourg. To this day, Luxembourg’s reasons for the calculated vengeful murder of over five million people remain unknown, as those responsible fled the country and have never been seen since. However, sources close to the Prime Minister at that time Xavier Clunker blame a series of unsolicited emails sent by one Douglas Kelly from Armadale, West Lothian. Mr. Kelly is believed to have sent over nine thousand emails mocking Mr. Clunker, bypassing the various spam filters and firewalls, delivering hateful invective to his inbox on a daily basis. Those close to the Prime Minister claimed that these messages, filled with vicious personal abuse, mostly pertaining to Mr. Clunker’s untrimmed nasal hair, arriving two or three times a day, sent him into a state of temporary apocalyptic lunacy, at which point he ordered that one atomic bomb, known as “The Foreigner Fixer”, the centrepiece of the country’s suprisingly vast arsenal, be trained on Douglas Kelly’s house at 27 McCallum Court, Armadale, and that Scotland be blown from the map. To prevent the blast from destroying parts of England, the military tweaked Mr. Clunker’s orders, and spread the attack across the country, ensuring that the entire landscape was indeed blown from the map with rigorous precision. The events of that horrific afternoon are still impossible to contemplate, and are commemorated by Annual Scotland Remembrance day, where people the world over observe a minute’s silence for the slain. This book is about the fascinating period leading up to this moment: 2014 to 2060.

  In 2014, the First Minister Nicola F. Sturgeon staged an independence referendum to remove Scotland from the United Kingdom. The no vote won 55.3% to 44.7%, and the matter rested until increasing tensions between left-leaning Scottish voters and right-wing Westminster rule led to a second referendum in 2019. This time, the vote was 65.2% to 34.8% in favour of yes, and Scotland became an independent country. The new nation, still named Scotland, was triumphant for several years, and showed unity until two council boroughs began squabbling over the penalty for dog fouling in public. Two ministers came to blows on live television. It was then that Steven Horse, MP for Dundee, proposed that Dundee separate from the rest of the country, and demanded an independence referendum for his constituents. The people of Dundee, known for their staunch isolationism, had proposed a border wall several years earlier, and had their request refused. This was the perfect opportunity to make themselves aloof from the rest of Scotland. The referendum was permitted, the result 87.9% to 12.1% in favour of the ayes. Passports and border checks were soon made compulsory when entering the proud nation of Dundee.

  The parliament became a chaotic and unstable place, with fistfights a common sight between ministers refusing to compromise on policy matters. The MP for Perthshire put the MP for Highland North in a headlock when the latter blamed increasing deforestation on the rise in Dutch elm disease, and not the cottage industry of celebrity golf courses. The MP for Aberdeen South headbutted the MP for Glasgow Central when the former opined that artificial insemination was the solution to the red squirrel shortage, as it had worked for the pandas in Edinburgh Zoo. The MP for Edinburgh East chinned the MP for Hamilton and Motherwell when she suggested that the residents should dredge the local ponds of scum themselves, rather than waiting for the understaffed park ranger service to perform this task. Sessions often ended with MPs sitting with their arms crossed, refusing to address one another. The new First Minister, Alasdair Gray, bowed to pressure to allow further referenda.

  After requests were made for independence by Glasgow, Aberdeen, East Lothian, and Stirling ministers, Mr. Gray suggested that separation be offered by county, i.e. for each county to become a country, if desired. The next to leave Scotland was Aberdeen. The others followed, and by March 2026, Scotland was no longer the name for a country, but a new continent encompassing thirty miniature countries, a number that was to increase over the next year, when several isles and villages “went rogue” and illegally declared independence. It is my ambition in this book to present a portrait of a fractured continent across these tumultuous years, to chart the various, wayward turns each country, bewildered and intoxicated by its constitutional freedoms, took in the years leading up to Scotland’s destruction.

  Many invaluable historical resources were destroyed along with the continent. To help me in assembling this eclectic mosaic that I present to you now, I have scoured the world for first-hand accounts, trawled the university libraries for archive material, and made visits to the scorched landscape that remains above England, to present eye-opening portraits of how these countries functioned post-referendum. I have arranged the countries in the order in which I received or located the necessary material: in some cases, facts were scarce, in others, all too plentiful. The material here ranges from detailed accounts of new political orthodoxies, to reports on incidents in individual villages or towns that allude to what might be taking place across the nations. The material is simultaneously trustworthy and untrustworthy, illuminating and obfuscating, so I ask the reader to maintain a sceptical eye when reading. The presence of several former villages (the aforementioned “rogue states”) might confuse some readers: Spean Bridge, Echt, and Braemar are the aberrations here, each having r
emoved themselves from their countries through illegal means. Since each country boasts a striking and incredible account of how its inhabitants lived, I have allowed them to stand alongside the legitimate nations. I have included brief prefatory explanations for the more obscure material, referenced my sources at the end of the excerpts, and included a short appendix on the isles, each of which have wonderful stories to tell, perhaps for another book. For counties formerly sporting the ‘-shire’ suffix, i.e. Ayrshire, Banffshire, these have been removed, having lost their -shire status upon becoming countries. Please note that the titles refer to each country name, and not towns or cities of the same name in that country.

  I hope this small volume brings you closer to understanding the enigma that was Scotland before the bomb.

  —M.J. Nicholls, 2113, New Jersey

  Scotland

  Before

  the

  Bomb

  “A Report on the Uptilting of Cromarty”

  [ROSS & CROMARTY]

  INTRODUCTION

  IN AUGUST 2036, Civil Parish of Cromarty intelligence officers became aware of suspect noises emanating from the port of Invergordon. These noises, reported by various locals as “harsh rustling” and “vicious creaking”, were subject to an intense investigation by Chief Intelligence Operative Paul Woolman. Mr. Woolman maintained a three-week vigil atop the border wall with a powerful telescope, and observed unusual movement involving a chain of citizens rustling crisp packets in front of microphones, and stepping on loose floorboards hooked up to operational amps. The incidents increased in their frequency, with locals reporting a “persistent uptake in rustling” and a “more severe campaign of creaking” over a two-month period. A vote was taken in parliament to forge communication with the notoriously troublesome Invergordon mayor, Astrid Boathouse, whose acts of provocation had been notable: among them, a sustained campaign of flan bombardment over a two-week period, leaving the village flooded in custard, and the pumping of Laura Marling songs through the water supply, causing untold aural torture on those who sought a shower or sustenance. Our pigeon missives, seeking an explanation, were ignored. Mr. Woolman recorded, after a further three-week assault, that the human chains had increased in length, and that the noises had become audible across the entire town. An historic decision was then taken.

  OBJECTIVE

  After a vote of two to one, the Parliament implemented its plans to uptilt Cromarty to a 75º angle in order to maintain a constant watch over the hostile port of Invergordon, and prepare for potential retaliation in the event of unceasing provocation. The chief civil engineer overseeing the project, nicknamed Operation Askew, was Sólveig Hallason, a world-famed figure from the Icelandic firm Volcanic Constructions. His reputation had been made building vibrant conurbations on the slopes of volcanoes and on mountain ledges, known as ‘Lífborgs’ (‘Vivicities’) as part of the means to control the ballooning immigrant influx in that country, and to create Global Villages containing microcosms of all world cultures. His expertise at helping sustain small villages amid continual geodetic shifts would prove invaluable. Mr Hallason arrived in the winter of 2036 to outline his plans to our members. In his polite and efficient manner, he estimated the operation would take up to a decade, and that the following resources, as a bare minimum, would be required for a successful uptilting:

  15,000 JCB trucks

  45,000 cranes

  60,000 construction workers

  4,000,000 tonnes of concrete

  3,000 transportation vehicles

  4,000 support workers

  43,000 lengths of rope

  200,000 shovels

  30,000 pneumatic drills

  EXECUTION

  Before construction, it was necessary to ensure that all existing structures were rooted in strong and lasting foundations, before the deeper foundations were unrooted. All four hundred and two structures would require “expert pinning”, in Mr. Hallason’s words, to ensure the uptilt would not cause them to collapse and “tumble” down the slope. In addition, each structure had to be mounted on a concrete plinth to place them on the correct plain of elevation, i.e. not pointing downwind. This meant pre-tilting each structure at an unusual elevation in anticipation of the new angle. The residents of the Civil Parish were evacuated to a special camp at the east coast (the “foot” of the new uptilted Cromarty), where basic facilities, meals, and activities such as korfball were provided for the decade of their encampment. Before the uprooting of the landscape, a concrete dam was erected around the surrounding sea to prevent flooding. 45,000 poles were driven into the landscape, and 45,000 vehicles positioned to commence the “industrial tugging” procedure, where the terrain was pulled upwards several inches at a time towards the 75º angle. Each exposed area was blasted with 54,000 metric tonnes of concrete. This slow process of “tugging” and “filling-in” to create a stable concrete gradient took place over a period lasting from April 2037 to September 2047, with a rolling workforce at task twenty-four hours a day. During this stressful decade, various problems such as malnutrition, lice, and dysentery occurred in the camps, and emergency “pop-up” hospitals were required. The poor living conditions in these damp and cold tents led to severe depression and various instances of suicide, and by December 2047, half the population mounted an expedition to Fortrose and were reported missing.

  AFTER THE PROCEDURE

  The Civil Parish of Cromarty was introduced to the new 75º angle on April 2048. To facilitate habitation, a network of cable cars had been constructed between several “floors” equalling fifty steps per stop, and residents could move between streets and houses with the assistance of interlinked step-paths. Cars were no longer functional in the village, and the pre-existing roads were coated in Velcro to prevent accidents. (Those who fell onto a road could blow one of the special whistles and wait for the fire brigade to unstick them). For those with mobility problems, a lift was added between the “floors”. A new council office, and special observation point, was built at the summit. A telescope from NASA, strong enough to view individual follicles on Invergordon scalps, was purchased. The remaining citizens were returned to their homes, and an advert was placed via pigeon to attract newcomers to move to the abandoned properties. The new uptilted town became a vibrant and thriving place, with thousands of tourists arriving to experience life on a 75º uptilt. Hotels and restaurants were added to the infrastructure, in addition to museums, pubs, and galleries.

  During the construction procedure, the original rustling and creaking noises coming from Invergordon had ceased. The non-stop earth-shattering racket from the industrial vehicles uprooting the landscape and causing immense seismic frictions had been interpreted in the rival village as a form of violent riposte, and a serious retaliation to the minor irritations of Astrid Boathouse and her legion of impish followers. A mole in the construction team had smuggled intelligence to the Boathouse government outlining our plan. In response, Invergordon planned and executed an expensive operation to lower itself into the landscape by 5,000 feet and cover itself in a enormous strip of tarpaulin. This rendered our telescopes useless at monitoring their movements and, in retrospect, the entire £700,000,000,000 operation a waste of time and money. After completion, the Civil Parish was peaceful for six months. A pigeon-missive arrived with the words “a huge mistake”, signed Astrid Boathouse.

  CONFLICT

  Tensions arose in the town between the residents, whose taxes had been raised by 550% to help repay the costs to uptilt the village, and the MPs, who had been humiliated by the futility of their costly surveillance measure. In September 2049, a fleet of black airships appeared over the village, each with stadium-size speakers, broadcasting the same bothersome rustling and creaking noises that had sparked the uptilt. These transmissions were constant from 5PM to 5AM every day, and caused intense frustration to those attempting to unwind or sleep. The airships, totalling eleven in number, hung over the village, restricting the sunlight, and forced the tourists to abando
n their trips in sheer irritation. Noise-cancelling earphones were shipped in to prevent the residents from succumbing to madness. This rendered all verbal communication void. A unanimous vote was taken among the residents to shoot down the airships at once. This amounted to an outright declaration of war with Invergordon.

  After the missile strike (the missiles were purchased from a Dominican dictator at a reasonable exchange rate) a swan of peace was sent to the rival village (no doves being available) pleading for cessation. There was no response. Several weeks later, an extraordinary sight emerged from the clouds. An even larger fleet of aircraft appeared, pulling the world’s largest vacant crisp packet. The aircraft, in under four hours, shrouded the entire Civil Parish inside the large purple-coloured wrapper, causing immediate darkness, and a repugnant stench of pickled onion that permeated the atmosphere for months. The action proved disastrous. A state of emergency was declared, and tunnels were carved in haste to escape its oily packaging. Several people suffocated under the airless shroud of bagged pickle. The echo of internal rustling inside the packeted Cromarty caused the loss of hearing among dozens. In total, it cost approximately £4,000,000 to remove the crisp packet from the town. The buildings and landscape were left with such a strong smell of onion that no visitors would enter. The town became bankrupt, and debtors from the World Bank demanded payment. At this point the Parliament was forced to sell Cromarty to Texas as a nuclear testing site.

  CONCLUSION

  The Civil Parish was cleared on March 2050. I stepped down as Prime Minister on the 4th of that month and made this brief speech: “I would like to thank the residents of Cromarty for their patience and persistence over the last twelve years. Our vision to uptilt this wonderful Civil Parish to a 75º angle was not successful, but we achieved a stronger, more personal victory: the bonding of a community, the collective struggle for survival in the face of unspeakable oppression. This is not something to be ashamed about. I leave my post as Prime Minister not as a failure, not ashamed by my actions, but buoyant in the knowledge I served this town with an intensity and passion rarely seen in politics.” At this point I had to leave the stage, as the residents began to revolt and tear down the town hall. I managed to escape in a private helicopter. I offer this personal account to anyone interested in the history of our former Civil Parish, and hope a lesson might be learned that leaders think twice before realigning their towns, cities, or villages to 75º angles. The evacuated residents were compensated with £30,000 per head and were advised to seek shelter in Fortrose—however, it came to our attention several months later that all carbon-based matter was vaporised upon contact with Fortrose, so this struck a seriously tragic note to the already seriously tragic tale.