Liberty and Death: A Timeline of an Otherworldy Revolution

Preface: This timeline was originally posted on Alternatehistory.com between the dates of March 11th, 2013 and August 5th, 2014.

May 1776, Plymouth, Massachussetts

John Hancock winced in pain as he rode in the horse-drawn carriage down a brick road in the oldest European settlement in New England. "Why, now, of all times, must I trip and sprain my foot!" he grumbled to his wife, Dorothy.

"It's fate, I suppose," she replied, gazing upon the buildings of Plymouth.

"If fate acted anywhere near justly, it would have let me remain in good health! There is a meeting in July in Philadelphia with the Continental Congress, and this could very well prevent me from attending! The very war is at stake!"

"Well, dear, you will need to rest. You inherited this home a few months back, and it was the closest place we owned. I know you didn't want to stay elsewhere, to avoid the British catching you."

Hancock became noticably angrier, but subdued himself. "This house i never really intended to use. It has a bad history behind it, and the locals tend to avoid it. But if it is the only place, carry on."

"Do you really believe the rumors? That it's haunted and all?" inquired Dorothy.

"It is meaningless, Dorothy," he spat, "meaningless. It's an old wive's tale and nothing more."


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Night had fallen. The trees in the yard, vibrant in the daytime due to the spring's warmth, were now pitch black to the eye. However, John Hancock paid them little trouble; he was struggling to climb the stairs to his bedchamber. "This damned foot," he muttered as he clambered up the stairs, opened the white wooden door, and came across a bed wrapped in linen with a white-trimmed blue blanket, turned greenish in the wall lamp's light.

Eager to rest, he put out the light on the wall, bathing the room in a bluish-black air in which he could barely see, but eventually his night vision became dominant. He set himself down on the bed, and tried to sleep.

"And to think I almost believed those rumors that this place was haunted," he said to himself in a sleepy voice. "There is nothing out of the ordinary here."

He lay dormant but concious for about an hour. Suddenly, he sat up in the bed, shaking.

"I swear to God, there is somebody else in here," he wondered aloud, his forehead dripping in sweat.

He looked around. Nothing.

"What are you worrying about, you coward?" he asked himself, but he did not settle down.

As he began to recline, he noticed a whitish mist making itself apparent in the room, seemingly from nowhere. To his horror, the mist began to take the shape of a man in work clothes suggesting a sailor or fisher.

"How odd," Hancock said, trying to distract himself from the fact that there was indeed another entity in the room. "This can't be haunted. These ghosts are not real."

"What you call 'ghosts' are very real, Mr. Hancock," said a voice, apparently coming from the ghostly sailor.

"W-Who are you?" stuttered Hancock, terrified at the sight.

"My name is Thompson Phillips," answered the entity. "My father-in-law who despised me lived here, and I tormented him for many years, if you were wondering why I am here. I died in a storm off the coast around forty years ago. However, I have found better things to do with my time."

Hancock was petrified. Here, the stuff of legends proved itself to be real. "Why have y-you come to me? What can I offer?"

"I have been following your Revolution for quite some time. You see, Mr. Hancock, we the dead have been desiring our own revolution for quite some time. I have been sent as a messenger to offer you a .... proposition."

Hancock was incredulous, but still terrified. "What do you mean, a 'Revolution for the Dead?'"

"Allow me to demonstrate," said Phillips.

Hancock saw the room vanish in a blinding light, and found himself standing in a black void. He looked around in a circle, and saw a blue orb with green and brown parts to it, although blue was clearly the dominant color.

He started to recognize the orb: it was the Earth, from a vantage point no man, or no living man, had ever seen. He saw the Moon behind it, glimmering in its silvery glow. He saw the Thirteen Colonies, the Atlantic, Spain, France, Britain, the Germanies, Italy, Africa, and lands he had never encountered.

"How..." said Hancock, hardly believing what he was seeing.

He, against his will, moved towards the Earth, to a point where he could see people working, with bronze works, homes, colisseums, cloth shops, and other civilian works. However, one thing stood out: a massive stone tower with a glowing purple rock perched atop it. Upon further investigation, he noticed something even more puzzling: several spirits, of the same variety of Phillips, floating in the sky, descending, working with humans in their crafts, but unable to physically manipulate anything.

He saw these entities calling into existence more entities, but seemingly physical ones. Some were in the shapes of animals; gigantic birds, dragons, and other fantastic creatures seemingly made out of obsidian, again with a purple glow.

He saw others making smaller crystals, these with reddish hues, and placing them on wooden contraptions with sails. As they contacted the contraptions, the contraptions began floating into the air, and men and ghost would enter them and ride them across the sky.

"Amazing..." Hancock gasped in awe.

"This is your world millennia ago" said Phillips, "specifically the area of the house you currently inhabit. That tower with the crystal atop it is where the house is precisely."

"What does it mean? What has man lost to the ages?" wondered Hancock.

"In the time before your records, the living and the dead shared the world together in harmony. Death did not have the connotations of termination it does in your time. Death simply meant one would become a spirit, free of the constraints of the body."

"However, this was not guaranteed. The crystal you see on the tower harnessed energies that permitted the dead to remain spirits. In the absence of these towers with crystals, the dead would be forced to exist in a lonely, cold world beyond the constraints of Earth."

"There, however, were zealous living who wanted the benefits of death before their time came. To try to gain these benefits, they toppled the towers, hoping that they would give the living the benefits prematurely. This was not the case. Instead, one by one, the areas the dead could frolic in were razed, and eventually there were none left. Death became a state of darkness to humanity, something it avoided. Records were lost, and humanity of this day and age was born."

"However, the dead can still access the world in places where there are remnants of the crystals in the ground. This house is one of them, and it enables the dead to contact the living. The dead of today are territorial, and never more than a few inhabit an area at a time in the world of the living."

Hancock found himself whisked away from his perch in the sky, and the room he had tried to sleep in reappeared. He was in his bed, just as he was before the vision. Phillips was still there, gazing into Hancock's eyes.

"So, Mr. Phillips," quaked Hancock, "what does this have to do with me and the rebellion?"

"Your rebellion is based on freedom from tyranny, as you and your leaders have said. We want a revolution of a similar kind: the right to prosper as we did millennia ago. We are willing to help you in your revolution if you establish a nation in which the living and the dead are equal in rights and dignity."

Hancock realized the benefits of Phillip's offer. "Should I propose this to the Continental Congress? And, how can I trust you on your word?"

"Whatever legislative body you desire is more than good for us. The dead have been trapped for so long we will do whatever we can to support you in this cause as long as you aid us in the establishment of a government where living and dead are one."

"Very well," said Hancock. "What shall we do first?"

"I will tell you in the morning" said Phillips. "Rest. I will help you tomorrow."

Phillips disappeared, the white mist forming him vanishing. Hancock let out a breath of relief, happy that such an encounter was done. However, he noticed something quite peculiar.

His foot was healed.

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John Hancock and Thompson Phillips exited the house that the two had encountered one another in as Hancock closed and locked the door. They walked out to the backyard of the house as the sun rose. Dew covered the grass; it was early. Hancock carried a shovel that he had found in one of the sheds; Thompson, being an ethereal entity, could not assist him.

"So, you're saying that this 'enabling crystal' is buried somewhere here? And it is because of this crystal you can manifest yourself?" inquired Hancock.

"Yes, it's very close," replied Phillips. He abruptly stopped at a small indent in the grass, looked at it, and exclaimed, "I can sense it. It is under here, only a few feet. It is a miracle that the living haven't found it."

Taking the hint, Hancock thrust the shovel into the ground, made sure it was well inside the dirt, and pushed upward, exposing the smell of rich brown dirt with a hint of dew. He left the pile of dirt to the side, exposing the roots of some small plants. "Here is a good place to dig?" asked Hancock, warily.

"Yes. I can sense it. Keep digging - it should not take too long."

Throughout the day, Hancock dug and dug into the moist soil, taking the occasional break to catch his breath. After a few hours of the doable but tiresome work, the shovel hit what seemed to be a rock, making a clinking noise akin to two glass bottles gently hitting one another. Noticing this, Hancock brushed aside some dirt the shovel, and noticed the rock was not in any color he had seen, with the possible exception of a museum: a deep purple.

"Just like the rock on tower in the vision you gave me," exclaimed Hancock in a wondering tone.

"Indeed," replied Phillips. "Dig it up. It is essential if my kind is to help yours in your revolution."

And so he dug it up, his clothes stained with dirt, and he eventually isolated the rock from its surroundings. The rock seemed to be carved in the polyhedral shape of jewels Hancock had seen in jewlery in such, but it was significantly larger, around the size of a cooking kettle. He clambered up the hole and set the darkened crystal on the ground.

"So it's out of the ground," Hancock panted, tired from the labor he had just finished.

"Good, very good. Where is this meeting with your fellow delegates, Jefferson, Madison, Adams?" asked Thompson, with some sense of eagerness.

"Philadelphia, sir," answered Hancock. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you know whether the building you will be meeting in has a large spire or tower on it?"

"I believe the Pennsylvania State House has a bell tower, so I guess so."

"Very well," replied Thompson. "Once you arrive there, you will mount the crystal on the bell tower. It will awake the spirits of the dead there, and then we will be able to assist you."

Hancock nodded, but wondered just what fate the new nation could meet, allying with what was once myth. He shrugged off such thoughts; he thought allies against tyranny were worth the curiosity a layman may have at seeing it. After all, he was fighting for their freedom, he thought.

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Plymouth, Massachussetts, June 1776

John Hancock was tired. Not of boredom, not of lack of sleep, but of the heavy woodworking he had been instructed to do by his otherworldly companion, Thompson Phillips. For some reason, Phillips had instructed to make what appeared to be a boat of sorts, but with large curved planks sticking out from the sides.

In the past month or so, Phillips had been teaching Hancock about the various mythos of the dead, their history and the like. He had not, however, used any of the fantastic powers Hancock had seen in the vision months beforehand. Hancock had asked why; Phillips answered that he had not the energy, or "aether" as he called it. He wanted the purple stone mounted on the Philadelphia State House when the meeting commenced, and then, he said, he would have the energy he needed.

Hancock's wife, Dorothy, had also met Phillips during this time; at first time, she was horrified and outraged at her husband. However, when Phillips had shown her the vision that he had shown John months before, she agreed. She now supported the ghost's efforts as much as her husband did.

Hancock, tired from the manual labor, asked the spirit, "This thing is just about done. Is there anything else you need?"

Phillips inspected the odd vessel, paying close attention to its wings. "Good, good, Mr. Hancock, You are learning. This vessel is ready for its intended purpose. Now go, get the enabling crystal and your wife. We will be going shortly."

"To where, though?" inquired Hancock. "You haven't told me where we are going. You've just told me construct this damned thing."

"To Philadelphia," replied Phillips, "but not before a stop elsewhere."

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Hancock, Dorothy, and Phillips all had assembled near the vessel Hancock had constructed, and Hancock had the enabling crystal hand, emitting a faint purple glow as he stumbled and dropped into the vessel.

"Don't break the vessel!" snarled Phillips. "It must be intact if we want to make it to Philadelphia!"

"It is fine, Mr. Phillips," responded Hancock. "So, it's in. Now what?"

"Get in the vessel," ordered Phillips, and Hancock and his wife obeyed. To their shock, Phillips placed his hands parallel to the ground, a few feet from one another, and closed his eyes. To their amazement, a red ball of energy manifested itself between his hands, and slowly formed a sphere-like polyhedral the color of ruby. Dorothy, who had been leaning on the purple enabling crystal, had to move away from it, with a little shriek' it had begun to glow and emit heat, but not enough to burn the wood. After a minute or so, the red ball of energy had manifested itself as another gem of similar shape, but smaller and redder.

"Wha-what is this?" asked Dorothy, noticeably upset.

"Just sit there, and let yourself see the power of the dead."

Phillips appeared to exert more energy as the red gem rested on the vessel. Hancock, for a second, thought he was experiencing something akin to intoxication; the world seemed to be descending, but himself and Dorothy were staying still. He took a closer look, and realized what magic Phillips had really performed: the vessel, with both living and both crystals, was ascending into the air. "My God," gasped Hancock as the truth dawned upon him.

"This will take you to Philadelphia, but not before a stop beforehand. This is the same magic that lifted the contraption in the vision I gave to both of you."

The vessel turned in the air about a hundred and eighty degrees, and began accelerating to a speed no human had ever experienced. The ground below became a blur, but the general hue suddenly shifted from greenish brown to blue. He noticed the sun, which was still clear: it was midmorning, and it was gradually setting in the West.

"Excuse me, Mr. Phillips," asked Hancock, "but Philadelphia is to the southwest of Plymouth. We are heading northeast if my reckoning is correct."

"I know full well where we are going, Mr. Hancock," responded Phillips. "I can detect that the two of you still have doubts about my help," he rasped. "Allow me to remind you of the fight you have made for yourself."

The blur with the blue below the continued for some time, but then gave way to brownish green, combined with a gradual deceleration. Hancock saw that they were coming across a city with marvelous buildings, with palaces, churches, and other beautiful edifices of that nature. He then noticed a banner hanging from one of these towers: the British Union Jack.

"We-We're in .... London?" asked Hancock. "I recognize several of the buildings from engravings in the colonies."

"You are correct, Mr. Hancock," replied Phillips coldly. "I would like to show you your enemy."

The vessel continued to careen over London, eventually reaching the countryside. After a few perilous minutes, they came upon an exquisitely decorated palace on a river, a truly massive complex. "This, Mr. and Mrs. Hancock, is Windsor Palace, home of King George III, your sworn enemy."

The vessel swooped down and approached a window to a gigantic dining hall, ornately decorated with precious metals and paintings. He saw royals, officials, and other persons of apparent note at the table. At one end of the table, he saw a man in profligate robes and a crown studded in jewels. This, Hancock realized, was his sworn opponent: King George III of the United Kingdom of Britain.

"Do you not see him?" asked Phillips? "His decadence is appalling. He is the very antithesis of what you fight for: freedom. He treats you little better than vermin, and yet you have to pay even more of your money to sustain this elegant lifestyle."

Hancock's face grew defiant, his eyebrows curling. "You're right! This is the man my people hate. What are we to do, kill him now?"

"No. You have not the means." He paused. "The purpose of this expedition is finished. We are now on to Philadelphia."


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After the decently long trip from London over the Atlantic, Hancock once again began to see the coastline, this time of the continent he called home. He saw fields, farmhouses, villages, and the like situated in the lush farmland of New England, before heading south. Eventually, they came upon another metropolis: Philadelphia.

The vessel slowed down and allowed them to gaze below at city life, and then noticed a tall tower with a bronze bell within it. He recognized it as the building that the Continental Congress was to meet in: the Pennsylvania State House. To Hancock's surprise, Phillips made sure that the vessel hovered near the roof of the building, just level with the top of the tip of the tower. "Put the enabling crystal on top of the tower. Make sure it is balanced; I will ensure its purpose is fulfilled."

Hancock did as he was told, and delicately balanced the large kettle-sized crystal on top of the tower. When it was perfectly balanced, it refused to move any further, and began to glow brightly. Hancock could tell that Phillips was exerting a good deal of energy; he looked tired for an ethereal being. Then, the world went dark.

Hancock was, however, not dead. He found himself in the same place where he was sent in the vision before; a void with the Earth, Moon, and Sun in the distance.

"Good afternoon, citizens of Philadelphia, leaders of the Revolution, and other distinguished persons," he heard Phillips declare, an enigmatic voice from no clear location.

"You are all seeing this vision simultaneously, even if you do not see one another. My name is Thompson Phillips, a deceased man returned from the underworld to aid you. The dead were once within harmony with the living, and we coexisted together millennia upon millennia ago. This understandably comes as a shock; this has been lost to your history."

"I understand fully well if the religious among you object. However, being an entity who has learned the history of the dead, I can tell you your faith is not misplaced. The religions of the world are cloudy interpretations of the truth, or in some cases metaphor taken literally. You are not sinners for hearing this."

"Allow me to show you your history that you have forgotten." Hancock saw the same vision he had seen in that house's bedroom: the Earth, the continents, the city in modern Massachussetts, the tower, the floating vessel, the fantastic creatures, the dead coexisting with the living. As this played on, he wondered what the other people who were seeing this were thinking. A gift from God? The latest scheme from the Father of Lies? Something else entirely?

When Phillips' vision had ended, Hancock found himself once again on the roof of the Pennsylvania State House. He took a look around, saw Dorothy to his right, and a sight of chaos around him.

The souls of the dead, in a state similar to Phillips, had arisen, and were soaring around the city, rejoicing in their newfound freedom. Humans, however, were in a panic. Screaming he could hear for miles. People were running in fear from the dead, and many were calling for repentance to God, for they (to themselves) had sinned.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" stated Phillips. "The living and the dead together once more. Now is the time for you to enter the state house and meet with your compatriots."

Hancock did as such and was suprised to find the entire Continental Congress assembled, many in work clothes or personal wear. They, apparently had been teleported from wherever they had been to Philadelphia, and had not had time to dress for the occasion. Chatter filled the room as the men recognized one another, with awkward greetings and handshakes.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," exclaimed Phillips, so that he could be heard. The assembly quieted and gazed upon the spirit, the delegate, and his wife.

"Hancock!" exclaimed a delegate, who quickly made himself out as John Adams, another man from Massachussetts. "Are you the cause for this? Are you the reason why we are here, and why we saw the supposed history of human civilization?"

"He is not, for I am. He is my liason, the first I contacted. I am certain you know why I called this meeting: to arrange the alliance between yourselves and my kind againt the despot that rules you."

Another delegate, Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, rose. "So, you are sincere, I hope? That the living and the dead will indeed work together?" he asked in an inquisitive tone.

"I can vouch for him," replied Hancock. "He has shown me several things. He has whisked me from Plymouth to London to Philadelphia in a matter of hours. He has shown me the decadence of the British Monarchy firsthand. He is geniune."

"I object to this Satanic alliance!" called a man, Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island, as he rose and confronted Hancock and Phillips. "I am a firm believer in the quaker faith, and I will not let these independent states fall victim to a creation of the-"

He was cut off, and Phillips glared at him intently. To the horror of the assembly, Hopkins began to lose expression in his face, his limbs went limp, but he still stood upright, like a puppet leaning on a wall.

The assembly gasped. "I have made this objector a ... the best word I can think of is 'homonculus.' He can now only perform actions based on the orders of the undead. He is inflexible and mute, and will obey my kind without fail, only hindered by the elements. He is not invincible, just obedient. Allow me to demonstrate."

He turned to the gaping Hopkins, and pointed to a lamp on a wall. "Mr. Hopkins, take that lamp and set yourself ablaze."

The new homunculus, as Phillips had said, began hobbling towards the lamp. When he was there, he ripped it off the wall and set his own coat ablaze. The assembly watched in amazement as he burned, but miraculously the state house did not burn down. Within minutes, Hopkins was a pile of ash.

"Now, good delegates," said Phillips, "The choice is yours to make. Fight with us on your own will, or as servants to the dead."

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The Continental Congress stared in abject horror at the sight of the deceased Stephen Hopkins, while the ethereal Thompson Phillips simply stared at them in a somewhat angry, somewhat puzzled manner.

"You murderer!" cried John Hancock. "You have just killed one of the delegates from Rhode Island! What reason did you have for that?"

Phillips grimaced. "It may seem horrible to you, but to me and my fellow undead, I may, and I emphasize 'may', have done you fine gentlemen a favor. Within a few days, Mr. Hopkins will have rematerialized here in a form similar to my own. He will be one of the first of you who will be able to participate in the great collective mind of the dead, and, being one of you in life, can provide your perspective to the great collective. One of the reasons I made him a homunculus was to ease the pain of death."

Thomas Jefferson, one of the most eminent of the delegates, rose, and spoke at a volume almost yelling, "Well then, Mr. Phillips, if we are to work together, we must have no more of this. We do not take murder, let alone murder of an important person, lightly. Tell me, Mr. Phillips, was this common in the visions we saw of our planet millennia ago?"

Phillips looked at him, less angry than he was before. "Yes, Mr. Jefferson, it was. In fact, it was considered an honor that a person could reach the ethereal state in a painless and expedient manner. It was, however, reserved for the greatest of society, and those who were impatient were punished. It is through the mass action of these impatient people the undead were locked in the prison that they inhabited until today. If you insist, the dead will stop such actions. You needn't scramble to post bulletins, for the collective memory of the dead already knows."

Hancock looked up to Phillips, and skeptically inquired, "what do you mean by 'collective memory?' Are you but a facet of a larger being, a hydra with a thousand heads?"

Phillips explained, "Each living human has a set of memories only available to itself. In death, these memories merge. We all know each other, we the dead, but even so we can collectively lose memory."

"If this is true," inquired Jefferson, "than how can it help the war effort?"

"I have sensed another enabling crystal in the area of what you would call Albany County, New York. I am aware that you have a large concentration of soldiers in that area, and, if permitted, the dead can assist you in acquiring it. This is near the area of the captured British fort, Fort Ticonderoga."

"So, you want to do to Albany what you did to Philadelphia?" asked Jefferson. "Of what value would it be to us?"

"If that crystal is enabled, we will be able to supply your troops with weapons powered with the energies of the dead. I believe one of your most eminent commanders, George Washington, would benefit from them. You can use these weapons to defend New York from the British and also attack Quebec. If created in enough numbers, our weapons can accomplish those things, and much, much more. Are you in support of this?"

Hancock and Phillips looked at the assembly, as little by little the delegates raised their hands in support of the motion. "So, we are in agreement," stated Jefferson. "Let us hope that you are sincere, Mr. Phillips."

"As long as this new nation will allow both the living and the dead to prosper together, you may have whatever you desire. Mr. Hancock, let us travel to New York, and inform General Washington of this. If we can activate that crystal, your armies may defend New York and seize British Canada. However, I would recommend that some of your soldiers accompany us in the ship to ward off any potential British attackers."

The Congress mumbled, seemingly in agreement, Hancock and Phillips left the room, while Dorothy said she would stay behind and attempt to convince dissenters of the good intentions of the dead. They came across the flying vessel that Hancock had created back in Plymouth, red crystal and all. However, surrounding it was a group of soldiers of the Continental Army, with blue jackets, red and white shirts, black tricorns and muskets. With them was another ghost, this one appearing to be a merchant by his ghostly apparel.

"I can assure you, Thompson Phillips means well for both of our kinds. He wants you to be free in life and in death," said the entity, desperately trying to convince the soldiers that he was not a creature of the devil.

"I have a hard time believing that the Continental Congress would ever become an ally of you ... I don't have damned idea what you are, but you are obviously a creature of the devil!" shouted one of the regulars, brown haired and tall.

Phillips intervened, shouting, "They already have. Mr. Hancock here can prove it."

"Majority vote, too," added Hancock, visibly disturbed. "We were going to use that ship there to head to New York. We need an escort; I, as a delegate from Massachusetts, strongly encourage you to come with us."

"Really, then?" replied the regular. "Very well. Philadelphia was getting dull. Jonathan Anderson at your service, and these are my men Isaiah Carpenter, Frederick Towle, and William Magruder. I am the officer in charge of these men, and if this indeed helps fight the British, we will help."

"Very well," replied Hancock. "But, who is this ghost you were speaking to?"

"My name is Daniel Hicks. I was a tradesman here in Philadelphia around eighty years ago, and I was killed when a carriage impaled my head. You the living have no idea how wonderful it feels to be back in the overworld, free from the dullness of death."

"Indeed, it is a pleasure to see another fellow dead in the world," replied Phillips.

"However, I heard your ... immolation of one of the delegates inside this here hall. I remember the collective memory of the dead screaming to you to not do that heinous action, and before that telling you to respect the laws of the living even as you proposed aid to Mr. Hancock here!" spat Hicks.

"It is irrelevant in the long run. He will return as one of us shortly."

"You are going to alienate the living if you contin-" objected Hicks, but he was interrupted by Phillips.

"It is irrelevant. Are we, my good sirs, heading to New York or not?"

"I suppose we must," replied Hancock. "However, Mr. Phillips, we cannot stress it enough how much you need to restrain yourself in the creation of homunculi. We have a revolution going on; we do not need a civil war!"

Anderson the soldier and his crew listened and clambered into the vessel, followed by Hancock. He could tell that Phillips was exerting energy once more, and soon enough the vessel elevated itself and began rushing towards the northeast. However, one thought echoed throughout Hancock's mind: Could he trust the ethereal entity that called himself Thompson Phillips?


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The wooden vessel carrying John Hancock, Thompson Phillips, John Anderson, and his company touched down in southern New York, well out of the city itself but close to the area where George Washington's forces were stationed. It caused the grass it landed on to spew dust in a small radius, causing the occupants of the craft to cough, other than, of course, the ethereal Thompson Phillips.

"What the bloody hell powers this thing, anyway?" asked Anderson, amazed by the contraption.

"The energies that course through the underworld, powered by the collective conciousness of a million souls," replied Phillips. "We the dead can manifest parts of our conciousness into a physical form which we cannot manipulate. You, the living, can." He gestured towards the crimson crystal within the wooden vessel.

"Mr. Phillips," inquired Hancock, "Would you, by any chance, have a name for this vessel? We cannot be simply referring to it as 'the contraption' forever."

"You may give it whatever name you see fit. All that matters to the dead is that this nation be accepting both living and dead, to restore the age that humanity lost millennia ago."

"May I suggest the Ticonderoga?" inquired Anderson. "It is a vessel worthy fo the name of the great victory we had last year upstate."

"Very well," replied Hancock. "the Ticonderoga it is."

The group left the vessel after obscuring it with leaves and grass, taking care to hide the red crystal that powered it. The band of five regulars, a statesman, and a ghost wandered through the countryside in an attempt to find Washington's camp.

"You had better be careful," stated Anderson. "I am originally from this area, and it erupted in warfare after Lexington and Concord. Be wary; there could easily be British scouts or the rare Native prowling the area, looking for a Patriot."

"So the natives are restless, then?" asked Phillips.

"Quite. I sincerely hope after the war we can actually move and take the land they inhabit that the King foolishly prohibits us from using. The savages do not value land ownership, and we colonials need the land for agriculture. At the end of this war, we will start reaping the seeds of a new nation on lands that are rightfully ours. If the dead support us, we can ensure that the nation prospers for both our kinds. That is what I am lead to believe, anyway."

"You needn't worry, Mr. Anderson," replied Phillips. "Win this war, and you can have all the land we can assist you in taking."

The band walked along what appeared to be a dirt road through seemingly abandoned fields. After a while, they came to hear a noise, apparently human, coming from a deserted farmhouse. "We should approach it," said Hancock. "Could be another soul suffering under British oppression."

"Or, it could be another Tory plot to draw us in," grumbled Anderson. "We must be wary. Are you sure you want to approach it?"

"Let us," said Phillips. "But as Mr. Anderson says, be wary. If you die, I cannot assist you from the afterlife. The connection between me and the enabling crystal in Plymouth is weak - you would not return in my form."

The men and ghost warily moved through ruined wheat fields. The human noise became clearer as they approached: it was sobbing, perhaps a lament of death. It seemed female, judging by the high tone.

Anderson led the way as he and his men approached the door, followed by Hancock and Phillips. They came upon the source of the tears: a distraught young woman on her knees. Before here were three corpses: one of an older man, one of an older woman, and one of a man, while young, seemed older than she.

"Excuse me," said Anderson, in a hushed but noticable tone. "Who ransacked this farm? Who killed your loved ones?"

"SPARE ME YOUR WRETCHED LIES, BRITISH-" she roared as she spun towards Anderson and Hancock, but ceased when she noticed the blue uniforms. "You're Whigs, then, aren't you?" she asked.

"We are Patriots, Whigs, whatever you may call it, so long as you know we are those who fight for liberty. John Anderson, Continental Army, at your service. This here is John Hancock," he said, pointing towards the statesman, "and these are my men, Isiah Carpenter, Frederick Towle, and William Magruder."

"My name is Phyllis. Phyllis Wheatman. My parents and brother were killed by a Tory scouting party who asked for food and lodging for the night. They seemed cordial enough until they noticed the copy of Common Sense my father was reading. They then proceeded to massacre my family. I hid in the fields, but the damage was done."

"Awful, just awful," consoled Anderson. "We are trying to find the base of General Washington's force. We have instructions from the Continental Congress to link up with him. We have very important orders."

"And what might these orders be?" asked Phyllis.

"To allow your kind the benefits of another world, and the powers, amazing to your kind, typical of mine, to be at your disposal," stated Phillips as he walked forward. Hancock noticed that he, as a non-physical entity, walked straight through one of Anderson's regulars. The soldier shivered, his teeth making a small chattering noise.

Phyllis' mouth gaped and her eyes widened as she saw the ethereal being walk towards her. "M-my God," she stuttered. "What is this satanic being?"

"I am not a creature of evil. I am one of you, but resurrected in a sense. A more apt description would be a former one of you now once more able to see the world, though not necessarily be alive," he responded.

Phyllis then appeared to go into some sort of trance, still kneeling. The living men looked at her and Phillips with suspicion, but they could tell Phyllis was still alive and well, albeit not necessarily concious. Phillips was staring at her intently.

After a few minutes, she regained conciousness. "Amazing," she said. "Is this what humanity came from? A world where living and dead prospered together at one time?"

"Yes, it is indeed the truth," said Phillips. "Gentlemen, I gave her the same vision you at differing times had recieved from me. Now, Ms. Wheatman, would you happen to know where Washington's camp is?"

"I believe so," replied Phyllis. "I can take you there."

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The party arrived at a large assortment of tents and campfires, the air smelling of burnt wood and cooking meat. They approached, and came across a sentry holding a large musket, and appeared to be ready to shoot if necessary. "Fellow Patriots, are you?" he asked, noticing Anderson and his men's uniforms.

"Why yes, yes we are," replied Anderson, shouting so that the guard could hear him from the distance.

"Very well, I'll make sure they'll let you in. Important news, I gather?"

"From Philadelphia itself," Hancock shouted.

"Must be important, then. I'll have you meet with Washington."

The party walked into the camp, guards yielding to them. They displayed worried, frightened looks when they saw the ghostly Thompson Phillips, but said nothing. Phillips merely smiled.

The party was met by the sentry, who escorted them to a particularly large tent with a roaring fire. "It's a wonder they're letting us in so quickly,' remarked Hancock, quietly.

"I have my ways, Mr. Hancock," replied Phillips. "I have ... ways. It is fortunate they are working - I can only do so much for you."

The group arrived at the tent, and the sentry entered. Some mumbling was heard, and out stepped General George Washington of the Continental Army.

"Mr. Hancock," said Washington. "It is an honor to have one of Massachussett's greatest statesmen in my presence. You have news from Philadelphia?"

"Yes, I do," said Hancock. "General, I would like you to meet Thompson Phillips, a 'man,' if you can call him that, who will save our cause."

Phillips approached, stared at Washington, and made him fall into the same trance-like state that he had imposed on Phyllis. After a moment, he returned to normal.

"So, Mr. Hancock," he inquired, "you believe this spirit will give us the means to win the revolution?"

Hancock noticed Phillips had a small smirk on his face; he also noted how calm Washington was after the vision. "He appears to be genuine, sir. If their qualms are as true as they present them, they deserve a revolution as do we."

"So, Phillips, you want us to find this crystal to the north?" asked Washington, skeptically.

"Yes. I promise you, this will benefit your army. It will help you defend against the British, and possibly take the fight to them."

"Canada will be a great prize if we can take it. We can free even more from British oppression," Washington stated.

"Whoever says it would stop at Canada?"

"I do not know what you mean by that, but now is not the time to discuss theft of land. We need these weapons. Hancock, you and this young lady stay here. These troops you have will join with a larger force to find the crystal to the north. Phillips, you will lead us."

"As it is best, General Washington. We shall depart immediately unless you object."

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Thompson Phillips, John Anderson, and George Washington oversaw the excavation of the enabling crystal, its purple hue apparent. As the dirt was removed by several panting soldiers, Washington asked Phillips, "What, then, does this give to us? You promised weapons. I would like to see them."

Anderson concurred, "You are the one who wants us to establish your supposedly egalitarian country. We have expectations based on your promises."

"Very well, very well. It is dug up." He then announced to the crowd of soldiers, "May all of you give each other a few feet radius between each other. Gather your muskets, also; each of you need your own."

Washington and Anderson surveyed the crowd of soldiers giving themselves space, and heard their mumbling. They then noticed Phillips seemingly exerting energy, and the crystal, formerly a deep purple, began to glow brightly.

Washington was amazed when he saw the souls of the dead rising from the ground and reaching the sky, hearing them celebrate their newfound freedom. Anderson was less surprised, having seen the incident in Philadelphia, but was absolutely shocked at was happening to himself.

His uniform was covered in obsidian-covered metal, forming a suit of armor that, while strong, felt flexible to his limbs, covering his torso and arms, with a collar-like appendage on his head. Atop his head was a tricorn-shaped helmet, possibly to recall the earlier uniform.

What really surprised him was what happened to his musket. It became the same obsidian hue as his armor, elongated, and a small green crystal manifested itself atop the barrel. The butt of the musket also had an odd symbol imprinted on it, more akin to a coat of arms more than anything: an hourglass with a rattlesnake coiled around it, surrounded by a ring of thirteen stars. The motto Memento Mori was written below the hourglass but within the starry ring.

"Mr. Anderson," remarked a voice that rung through Anderson's thoughts, coming from no entity he could sense. "My name is Benedict Fletcher. I was a fur trader in this area before my death of disease. I inhabit your musket's crystal, and know its workings. As long as you wear this armor and hold the musket, I will be able to interact with you within your mind. If you displease me, I will leave the musket, so I would advise you do not cross me. If we can work together, we will destroy the British."

"There are two emanations of energy this musket can fire. The first is incendiary, causing an explosion that sets worldly items ablaze. The second is more attuned to the dead. It can force a soul out of a living human, causing its body to wither and die and its soul rendered dormant for many years, rather than the week or so it takes a natural death to have its soul made coherent once more. You can instruct me based on thought to fire either one."

Anderson listened, and gazed across the gathering of troops. They all had this armor, showing that a hundred souls had come to aid the rebellion. This had truly become a quest for liberty for both living and dead.

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New York City, Colony of New York, August 1776

John Anderson and John Hancock strolled down the path within the confines of the barricades set up at New York City. Ghostly scouts had confirmed that an invasion force lead by Admiral Richard Howe and his brother, General William Howe, was coming to invade New York. The ghosts, under Thompson Phillips' guidance, were making sure that the Continental Army was well prepared. Their weapons were upgraded with the souls of the dead, and their new armor could easily beat back musket bullets.

Above, they noticed the flag of the rebellion: thirteen red and white stripes, blue canton, ring of thirteen stars, and in the middle of this ring was a rattlesnake coiled around an hourglass. Both Hancock and Anderson knew well that there was a motto normally associated with it, "memento mori," or "remember you will die," but it was not on the flag; it would be unreadable.

"Such a strange insignia," commented Anderson.

"It isn't, actually. An hourglass signifies time, of which each man has a limited amount. The rattlesnake conveys defiance. The stars are the colonies,' replied Hancock.

"I suppose so," said Anderson.

The two of them saw the fleets of Ticonderoga-class Harpies (the name for the general class of vessel) being prepared, Continental Army soldiers readying them, and ghosts flying around to ensure the aviation crystals were ready. The names of the harpies, usually a town or a sweetheart at home, were engraved on their sides.

"I have to say, Mr. Hancock, I must thank you for letting me use the Ticonderoga as my ship. It has become the flagship of the Continental Harpy Force, and, due to my experience but more to Mr. Phillips' preference, I am now the supreme commander in charge of them. Both General Washington and the Continental Congress have approved."

"Very good, Mr. Anderson! You can lead the colonies to victory in the skies," responded Hancock. "However, I am just a little surprised that you did not rename the ship after Ms. Wheatman. I can tell you're sweet on her." He chuckled.

"Just because I am young does not mean I cannot appreciate a cause higher than myself, Mr. Hancock," Anderson retorted. "Besides, she would smack me or worse if I ever did that."

"Damn right I would," sounded a feminine voice. It was Phyllis Wheatman. "I just want this war over, and moved to that place in Quebec you say you can get!"

"I know very well I can get it with the aid of the dead. They have promised it to me. Indeed, it was Phillips himself!"

"If you can assure this, then I will go with you, marry you, whatever you say. I just want a life after this bloody war!"

"Don't worry, Phyllis, I will," retorted Anderson.

"She's awfully snappy," said Hancock. "And you say you want to move to Quebec with her? We don't even own it?"

"Phillips says that if we can defeat the British fleet, the dead can help us take all British territory in North America. Our new nation will rule it all."

The two left Phyllis as she went about her business, and approached the area where the harpies were stationed. "Colonel Anderson," yelled a voice, "we were told there was going to be a raid on the British any moment now! Are we starting?"

"Yes, yes we are. Let me get down there." Anderson gave his farewells to Hancock and ran down to the Ticonderoga, meeting the three men he had come to New York with: Frederick Towle, Isiah Carpenter, and William Magruder, as well as Thompson

"Colonel!" the soldiers cried. They saluted. Thompson Phillips simply looked at him and nodded.

"Do you feel it is time, Mr. Anderson?" asked Phillips.

"Get in, get in. They say we can sink the enemy ships now, so we had damn well give it a shot."

They entered the Harpy, and Anderson gave a signal to the rest of the harpies to take off. Phillips powered the red crystal, and his fellow ghosts did the same.

Anderson felt a chill, despite his armor, as the harpy ascended. He saw the dozens of harpies rising together, possibly one of the most intimidating sights he had ever seen. "Onward!" he shouted. The harpies flew towards the ocean with an amazing speed. The land turned to a blur, and the brownish green turned to blue.

After a while, Phillips commented, "I see the ships. Ready your muskets of the dead, and tell the spirit inside of them to ready the incendiary emission."

Anderson felt the spirit that inhabited his rifle, Benedict Fletcher, creep into his mind. "You called, Mr. Anderson?" he asked.

"Ready the incendiary projectile. The soul-sucking one isn't necessary - they will sleep with the fishes."

"Very well. I am currently subliminally informing my ghostly brethren to do the same."

The harpies came ever closer to the ships, the Union Jacks on them fluttering in the wind. Anderson could hear screams of incredulousness as the harpies showed themselves over the ships.

Anderson had his harpy dip, and the rest of the squadron emulated him. "Fire!" he yelled, both to his rifle and to his men. They did.

A hail of fire roared from the rifles, and landed on one of the wooden ships. It burned like a fire in a camp; it sunk quickly.

One by one, they dived towards the ships, hearing the agony of the men on them as they burned and drowned. "This is one of the most hellish weapons I have ever used," said Anderson.

"Sometimes, one must use hell to achieve one's own heaven, to use your own terms," said Phillips. "We know fully well that it is hell, but they will return as I am. Don't worry, life is temporary; death is permanent."

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John Hancock strolled across the path that lead to the command tent that George Washington used. Washington had called a meeting today about a proposed plan by Thompson Phillips; what this was, he didn't know. By hearsay, he had heard that a representative from Philadelphia had come to the camp, apparently overjoyed that the Howes' fleet had been sunk in an instant. He had also heard that there had been riots in Philadelphia by fundamentalists who wanted no place for ghosts in the new republic.

He entered the tent, and came upon several faces, some familiar, some not. He saw Generals George Washington, John Sullivan, and Charles Lee. He saw Thompson Phillips glaring upon the rest of the tent. He saw John Anderson in full armor with musket. Finally, he saw one other ethereal figure in the tent. It took him a second to realize who this ghost was, but it dawned upon him: the ghost was Stephen Hopkins, the representative from Rhode Island that Phillips had killed. Phillips had told the truth: Hopkins did return as a ghost.

"Mr. Hancock," beamed Hopkins. "I haven't seen you in ages, or what seemed to be ages. The time between death and the manifestation of consciousness feels like eternity."

"A pleasure to see you too," replied Hancock. "What news is there from Philadelphia."

Washington stepped forward. "Mr. Phillips and Mr. Anderson have told me that they have been formulating a plan that will win us this war, a plan that involves striking areas not adjacent to the colonies. Mr. Phillips, please explain your plan."

"This plan is ambitious, but I believe, with the resources and effort, it is possible," rasped Phillips. "This plan will shock you, and you will object."

A silence of a few seconds passed.

"This is a plan for an attack on Britain herself."

The men in the tent gasped. "How do you plan on this?" asked Lee. "The Atlantic is vast. There is no feasible way we could cross that distance in time."

"Mr. Hancock can vouch the speeds of a fully powered harpy," Phillips growled.

"It is true, what he speaks," stated Hancock. "He brought me and my wife from Plymouth to London to Philadelphia in a matter of hours."

"As he said," commented Phillips. "Mr. Anderson can explain the logistics."

"Thank you, Mr. Phillips," responded Anderson. "With the seemingly infinite supply of ghost muskets available to us, ammunition is a non-issue, as is armor. If we can get enough wood, we will be able to manufacture an improved design of harpy, currently called the Rattlesnake, able to carry more soldiers in one vessel than the current Ticonderoga."

"London is a city made mostly of wood," continued Anderson. "Our muskets can, on demand, fire flaming shots capable of burning wood. We will start the second Great Fire of London, capture the King and Prime Minister, bring him to Philadelphia, and negotiate his surrender."

Phillips then stated, "To fulfill our intention of liberating the dead, it is our intention to annex Britain and her empire, to be governed by your laws. We will install enabling crystals in these locations and allow the dead to roam free."

"That is actually feasible, given our seemingly unlimited resources. All we need to worry about is wood and manpower, both of which we have in sufficient quantity. We plan to sell land in these areas as compensation," added Anderson.

"How odd," mused Sullivan. "The colonizer becomes the colonized."

"Not colonized, liberated," snapped Phillips.

"Another point I would like to add," chimed Hopkins. "Other ghosts have been assisting Congress in establishing enabling crystals in other parts of the colonies. There is one each in Virginia, each of the Carolinas, and Georgia, and the ghosts are aiding the fight there. In the words of an eminent thinker, these are the times that try men's' souls."

"In this case, quite literally," mused Phillips. "Quite literally."

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John Anderson gazed down from the Ticonderoga at the mass of buildings he saw below, bordering a cerulean sea. This was the city that so many periodicals and novels had extolled as a city of wonders, the greatest city known to mankind after Jerusalem and Rome.

This was London.

He was almost saddened by the fact that the hundreds of harpies, both of the same class as the Ticonderoga and of the new, bulkier Lexington class, had come to mount an invasion. However, he was consoled by the fact of their mission: to extort the King and put an end to this war before it became an eternal war. This raised his spirit.

"Now, we see the capital of your oppressors," snarled Thompson Phillips as he guided the harpy. "When we take this despot back to Philadelphia, we will ensure liberty for both your kind and mine."

"Indeed, Mr. Phillips, indeed," replied Anderson. "It is only an amount of time."

He gazed once more onto the city. "Should we give the order to fire?"

"It will be as you say," rasped Phillips. The ghost's eyes closed, showing how he was concentrating. Anderson noticed the soldiers on the other harpies raising their guns, pointing at London. He did the same.

He heard the crackles of a thousand muskets and saw the blaze of a thousand projectiles, swooping down towards the city. He saw windows break, rooves cave in, and people shriek in fear as they saw the contraptions rush over their city.

He then saw the fire. Building after building was consumed in the inferno, calling to mind the grotesque pictures of hell that artists painted. The smoke rised, blackening the sky, obscuring the sun.

He heard the cheers of his countrymen and the dead that aided them. "All this death - is it really necessary?" asked Anderson.

"They will become like my kind and will see how they will be treated. They will most likely be converted to our cause. Once we have an enabling crystal in London, we will be able to free them. They will be loyal, I'm certain."

"But what of those who still love the monarchy?"

"They will know the suffering of those trapped outside this world. They will not want it happening to themselves."

The Ticonderoga swept down to see London closer. Anderson and Phillips viewed one building in particular, a cathedral-like building, majestic in its haughty height. He recognized it from lithographs and sketches: the Palace of Westminister, its clocktower seemingly casting one final cry for the nation that would soon cease to be.

"Those of you who are escorting me," shouted Anderson, "blast through the roof and land in the building. Our objective is in there."

The five nearest harpies, as well as Anderson's, dove down towards parliament, blasting their muskets at the roof, which collapsed. They landed in the ornate building, its windows glimmering, and found themselves in the middle of a rabble of old men.

"Please, have mercy!" one cried.

"Where is the king? I'm certain you would know, you are his parliament, am I not mistaken?"

"I am here," exclaimed a voice from the back. A man appeared, dressed in a haughty uniform that oozed royalty. "I am King George the Third of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Who are you, and can you explain the hellscape that is London? Are you a messenger from the almighty God?"

"I am from the Thirteen Colonies now in rebellion. I am John Anderson, and this," he gestured to Phillips, "is the entity that brought me and my countrymen here."

"My name is Thompson Phillips," the ghost rasped. "I am not a man as you are. I am dead, and through the actions of the noble John Hancock, I can manifest myself once again."

Anderson noticed how all the Parliament, including the king, went quiet, their eyes in stupor. Phillips appeared to be concentrating - he was giving them the vision Anderson himself had seen.

"You are obviously tools of Satan!" the king shouted. "There is no way I, a king blessed with divine providence, would ever submit to you."

"I would advise you rethink that," said Anderson. "We could easily kill you now."

One of Anderson's men had took a cue, albeit an unintentional one, and cocked his musket and aimed it at a member of parliament. A blast of energy surged from it, enrapturing the man in a haze of purple and white. He became contorted, turning from normal to a horrid perversion of a corpse, and sagged.

"Now, Your Highness," snarled Anderson. "I would advise you to come with us. Your Prime Minister should as well."

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Philadelphia, two days later.

John Anderson forced King George III and Lord North into the Philadelphia State House. They were both hesitant, but Anderson made sure they entered the assembly hall.

They entered amid chatter. Anderson saw John Hancock, George Washington, John Adams, Charles Lee, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and the ethereal Thompson Phillips and Stephen Hopkins in attendance. They quieted as Anderson escorted them in.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," said Thompson, turning the honorific into an insult. "The same to you, Prime Minister."

"How can this treason give way to Satan? No, that is a silly question. This treason was satanic to begin with!" exclaimed the Lord.

"Quiet, Lord. I have heard the stories, I have seen the brutality of the siege of London, and I know now we are defeated. Do not have them bring upon their hellish forces on us," cautioned the King.

"There will be no idle chatter, only the decision of the Continental Congress," rasped Phillips.

"On with it then," murmured the King. "Let me fade into obscurity quickly."

"Very well. The Congress has agreed to take all of the holdings of the British Empire, in India, in Africa, in the Caribbean, in Canada, in Florida, and Britain itself. They will all be incorporated into the new nation. You will be allowed to settle as a civilian here in North America. Your armies will become run by this nation."

"I understand. But what will this new nation be called?"

"The United States of America, we presumed," called Jefferson from the back of the room.

"Allow me to propose a new name, a more fitting name, as this nation is more than just the American continent," called out Phillips. "There is a name, 'Fredonia," that has been circulating around the colonies, to describe this land as a land of the free. I say, let us be the United States of Fredonia, to show our commitment to freedom for both living and dead."

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Philadelphia, September 1776

John Hancock and Thompson Phillips walked into the Pennsylvania State House. The current flag of the United States of Fredonia flew over the building, the flagpole atop the uppermost point of the enabling crystal. It had thirteen stars for now; the number would soon be larger.
The hall inside was crowded with men and some women, and also various ghosts in various attire, some colonial, some British, some Caribbean, all ethereal.

Hancock was supposed to give the opening speech, a role he was nervous about. He had spoken in public before, but here, he was a blacksmith forging a new nation, a nation of peoples from around the world. It was daunting.

He stepped up to the podium, and saw the especially nervous delegates from the British colonies that had been annexed by the new United States. He saw those from the new states made from Canada: Ontario, Quebec, Sunbury, St. John's Island, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland. Behind them, East Florida, West Florida, Jamaica, Belize, the Bahamas, the Leeward Islands, the Windward Islands, and the Bahamas.
To their left were the delegates from the thirteen colonies, with the addition of Vermont, which had negotiated its way to statehood in the previous months. They looked the most comfortable. Among them were Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Madison, and other prominent members of the Continental Congress. Also standing with them was the ethereal Stephen Hopkins.

To the left of the main thirteen colonies plus Vermont were the most anxious delegates: those from the British Isles. After some haggling with the locals, the Fredonian government had decided to create the following states: Cornwall and Devon, Mercia, East Anglia, Greater London and South England, Northern England, the Scottish Lowlands, the Scottish Highlands, Connacht, Leinster, Munster, Ulster, the Isle of Mann, and the Bailiwicks. Among them were ethereal incarnations of great British dead who supported the union. Hancock recognized John Locke and William Wallace. Also present were British government officials and philosophers whose ideas were valued, among them Adam Smith and Edmund Burke.

He reached the podium, the full emblem of the Fredonian union engraved into it: rattlesnake rapped around an hourglass surrounded by thirteen stars, with the motto "memento mori" below the hourglass.

"Good morning," announced Hancock. "Today is the day we enter the foundry of nations and emerge from it with a sword forged through the metals of states, a sword stronger than any sword one of those states could form individually."

"It is also the time we transcend the boundary between living and dead, to restore the times of yore to the present. Humanity lost much after the dead were trapped, and now we can regain the wisdom of millennia.'

Hancock's speech continued. However, nobody in the hall seemed to notice when Thompson Phillips drifted out of the building. He glided through the streets of Philadelphia and landed at a construction site of some sort of building, with laborers and ghosts waiting for his arrival. The head of them, a ghost named Felix Tucker, greeted him. "Mr. Phillips, what a pleasure to hear from you. Is the Congress going as planned?"

"Quite. How go the plans?"

"Very good, sir, very good. The incarnation crystals have been materialized and are ready for installation." Tucker pointed to several elongated green crystals, longer in shape than the quasi-spherical enabling crystals. Each had a name engraved on them: he noticed John Hancock, George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and others.

"Good, very good, Mr. Tucker. It will be a Supreme Court to last for eternity."


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Somewhere in upstate New York

John Anderson, Isiah Archer, Frederick Towle, and William Magruder gazed upon the natural splendor of the area, clad in full armor, clenching their muskets. "The Seneca are a resilient people, aren't they?" asked Anderson.

"Quite so, John," replied Archer. "It is easy to see why the British wanted them as allies."

"Allies to the British they were, and their punishment for such treason will come swiftly. We've dealt with most of them by now - their arrows are nothing compared to our ghost-powered muskets," Anderson retorted.

They came across a band of Seneca, who tried to resist them. They shouted in their language, but switched to English once it became clear they did not understand. "What do you need here? Are you those who have slaughtered our brothers?"

The four soldiers did not say anything, merely cocking their muskets. The projectiles flew through the air, engulfing the Seneca in a burst of fire.

"This land will make a splendid mansion for Ms. Wheatman and myself, won't it?" Anderson inquired.

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Sistine Chapel, Rome, Papal States

Pope Pius VI addressed the assembled delegates from Spain, Portugal, France, Venice, Genoa, and other Catholic countries who had gathered in the chapel. Their faces showed worry, if not outright fear.

"Our agents have confirmed that the rumors are true: Satanists from the New World have taken over the British Isles. They, with their black magic, have annexed the heretic kingdom into what they call the United States of Fredonia."

"Discussion with other Church authorities has concluded that the best way to combat this black magic would be to use the works of God against them: natural science, mechanical science, and all their derivatives will be used to combat these menaces when the time comes to destroy them, and Church agents have been sent through the lands to find geniuses to aid us. Abundant resources from points beyond have been promised by the French, Spanish and Portuguese. Military ataches have also been sent to the Kingdom of Mysore in India, who are rumored to possess a flying incendiary that could be useful. Our contact, a former British military man named William Congreve, is attempting to establish relations with Mysore on our behalf. The satanists abandoned India, and the remnant British are willing to aid us."

"Now is also the time to end the feuds between those who support and those who oppose the Jesuit order. The Jesuits claim to be masters of knowledge; we are now allowing them to prove this claim. They will become our agents, our men in the field, our men in the enemy governments to yield knowledge of their movements, their plans."

"Let not Satan overwhelm us. Let God prevail."