New York
The first sight of New York took my breath away. The skyline is ours now — tall, proud, draped in banners of the Reich. The Empire State Building is no longer just an American monument; it is crowned with zeppelin moorings, its art deco lines threaded with glowing copper conduits that make it shine like a beacon. Times Square no longer blares vulgar neon but gleams with brass-framed propaganda screens flashing Speer’s words: Ordnung. Fortschritt. Ewigkeit.

I walked down Fifth Avenue behind a patrol of automatons, their polished brass pistons clicking in the heat. Crowds parted before them without a sound. Broadway was open that night — Wagner and Goethe performed on a stage where Americans once played their own noisy dramas. It felt fitting: the greatest city of the New World now sings with the voice of Europe.

Washington
From New York I took the armored zeppelin south to Washington, the Reich’s administrative jewel in America. The White House gleamed white as ever, but now the Reichskommissar resides within, his banners hanging proudly over its columns. The Capitol dome has been crowned with a radio mast, its brass latticework glittering in the sun. Automaton guards pace Pennsylvania Avenue, their mirrored visors fixed on the reflecting pool, where the Lincoln Memorial gazes out beneath our flags.

I stood at the National Mall as a parade of SS units passed in perfect rhythm, banners snapping in the humid air. It was strange — these monuments had been built for another republic, long dead now. Yet beneath our symbols, they serve us as trophies. Washington is no longer the capital of America; it is proof of German eternity.

Chicago
My last stop was Chicago, the heart of American industry. Here the Reich’s will beats loudest. The rail yards stretch further than the eye can see, armored trains hauling coal and ore eastward toward the ports. Smoke rises from factories along the river, where calculating engines tick endlessly and workers in gray uniforms toil under SS overseers.

The skyscrapers are not dressed for show, as in New York, but for work: steel towers belching smoke, windows glowing with furnaces. At night, the air hums with the sound of gears, whistles, and steam valves. Chicago is no brothel, no jewel — it is a forge, America’s Ruhr, a city made into an engine.

Reflections
Each city has its role. New York dazzles with propaganda and decadence, a jewel showing the world what the Reich has claimed. Washington embodies order, a republic humbled, its monuments turned into our trophies. Chicago is raw muscle, an industrial machine beating for our victory. Together, they prove that America is not free, not lost — it is ours, absorbed into the eternal machine of the Reich.

I return east filled with pride. Europe is secured, Russia is ours, and now America kneels beneath our banners. The world belongs to the Reich.