In this alternate history, the North lost the Civil War... but with a very surprising twist.
Winter is here in Ohio. Especially in the capital metropolis of Columbus, it's time to prepare for the cold, the holidays, the ice.
High Street is bustling with activity during this time. Thanksgiving is coming soon. One can spy the Christmas decorations yet to be unleashed en masse. The Baptist Church of High Street farther north is holding their Thanksgiving service early, evidenced by the hat wearing gentlemen holding their wives arms, trying not to slip on the ice going inside. One can hear the choir sing Jingle Bells just outside.
A family of Michiganders walking down the busy street were met with sneers. Even today, about two hundred years later, suspicion of the northlanders remain high.
Back in 1835, the territory of Michigan almost successfully revolted against the Northwest Ordinance, taking Toledo. A great Civil War ensued with many dead. Long after the great Ohioan republic declared victory, scattered militias still give our troopers a hard time. There are rumors that the militias have made a loose alliance with the lower elements of Quebec, another former rebellious province refusing to submit to the Northwest Ordinance.
I waved at the family, who was headed the same direction as I am. Everyone is welcome to church. Smiling, I get in, and set my tophat and coat on the front pew. There's a rack for such things, but I prefer to keep them close at hand during the service. I keep some useful things in them.
My position here is a tinkerer of all the fancy computronics and wireless telegraphy that pervade the aether around the church. Should the need arise, I have my sonic screwdriver. A mysterious man in colorful scarves gave it to me. He said he was a doctor, but frankly, I don't believe him.
Snake oil salesman, I thought, scowling at his dilapidated blue box he came out off, like a street circus showbox without wheels. Because that's what he was, a madman in a box.
But it was free, so I took it. And whether if it was a placebo or not, I am grateful for the sonic screwdriver's use. I dare not disassemble it. So wherever he is, I am grateful that God sent him my way.
The ushers met me and shook my hand. My Sunday school teacher, Williams, who was from Michigan himself, greeted me. While being a slightly humble schoolmaster, he has the distinction of being a very much well connected with conservative Ohioan politics, despite his roots and Michigan patriotism. His aethernet is filled with photos of himself in high societal functions with National Congressman Duffey, Senator Tiberi, Federal Governor Kasich, and President Boehner. The politicrats give much deference to our church, making us possibly the most influential religious institution in Ohio.
"Samuel, nice bow tie," Williams remarked.
"Thank you," I smiled. I don't take well to compliments too much.
One of the reasons that Michigan revolted, other than the perceived tyranny of the Ordinance and the federal government of our great Ohioan nation, was the discovery of large quantities of what they call radioactive coal around the border. Radioactive coal is what makes the technological wonders of today and tomorrow of almost perpetual motion possible, equal in value as its weight in gold.
A great coal rush further boosted the economy of the Great Ohioan Republic, putting us as the foremost industrial nation of all the Earth. Miners still dot the countryside, hoping to strike it rich.
One of the radioactive coal mining shafts was built near our church, actually, intersecting with the tunnels of High Street. It was abandoned after it was drained of coal. The locals call the whole system, the Gates of Hell, due to some unfounded rumors about it.
