Cyrusngoo

21 century Wall Street financial analyst Victoria Clarke travels to the American South in 1861 in a car accident and becomes the infamous widow Eleanor Van der Lyn-a serpentine woman recorded in history as having been “hanged by the neck on the eve of the inauguration of Abraham Lincoln for treason”. Lincoln on the eve of his inauguration for treason”. She looks in the mirror at her original character's flaming lips and waist, and sneers, “A villain? No, I'll make both the North and South kneel and tremble under my skirt!”
Clutching the mysterious diary left behind by the original owner in her left hand (which records the dirty dealings between the Southern aristocrats and the Northern politicians), and carrying the three mysterious “adopted sons” in her right hand (which are actually the artificial war machines in the Southern secret laboratories), Eleanor kicked away Alexander Hawthorne, the plantation owner who tries to control her by marriage, and threw the champagne into her hand, and then kicked her out of the room. Hawthorne, who pours champagne on a slave-state legislator's marriage agreement: “I have only two rules for parenting: teach my children to level slave estates with dynamite, and teach them to turn Northern generals with love letters.”
--When the New York Times ridiculed her as a “slut stirring up the war through nepotism,” she took her adopted children to burn cotton fields live and force Lincoln to sign the Early Emancipation Proclamation; when Northern spies kidnapped her children, she backhandedly exposed the gold smuggling chain between General Grant and the Bank of the South, which was featured in the Washington Post. When Northern spies kidnapped her children, she backhandedly exposed the gold smuggling chain between General Grant and the Bank of the South, making headlines in the Washington Post: “Thanks to the arms sent by the enemy, I am now the first female arms dealer and interim Secretary of State of the United States of America.

Reborn as the Iron Queen: Love and Gunpowder in the Civil War

The temperature in the White House cellar frosts Eleanor's mourning clothes. She kicked open the last grate and swept her flashlight beam across the rows of cryo-pods-each one containing "herself": a 21st-century Victoria Clarke in a battered Chanel suit with an Abraham Lincoln campaign badge stuck in her throat.

"Mom, the energy code for this cryopod...is the Bitcoin mining algorithm." CSA-01 ran a mechanical finger across the pod's rusted number BTC-2140, pupil data streams flickering wildly, "According to the second law of thermodynamics, we may be in a Möbius loop type of time..."

The sound of a gun cocking interrupts him. Stepping out of the shadows, Lincoln holds up a flintlock rifle, the barrel engraved with the family coat of arms of Eleanor's third husband. "1876, 1945, 2023...you always die on the same day." He pulled back his tie to reveal a microchip buried in his carotid artery, its blue light flickering in sync with the frequency of CSA-01's pupils, "You know why the Civil War had to be fought for four years? Because that's the time cycle you're traveling through."

Eleanor suddenly grabs the heels from the cryo-pod and smashes them into the steam pipes. In the smoke from the blast, she glimpsed the Fed Rate Hike Report clutched in the hands of the corpses in the chamber-the very document she had printed the night of her car accident, but with an extra line of blood at the foot of the page, "Don't save those kids, they're a virus that anchors time."

"You think you can change history?" Lincoln yanked her by the hair and pressed her against the cryo-pod glass, the eyes of the corpse in the pod snapped open, "Every time you cycle you try to fight the system with motherly love, but look at this..." he pried open the chest cavity of the CSA-01, the mechanical heart was clearly inscribed with the words PROPERTY OF PRESIDENT Lincoln.

As his adopted sons screamed, Eleanor bit into the nitroglycerin capsule hidden in his back teeth. The moment the blood exploded, she remembered the modeling of the U.S. stock meltdown she'd done the night before crossing over-the curve was exactly the same as the energy fluctuation graph in the cryopod.

"Dear Abe," she spat as she stabbed the scalpel into Lincoln's right eye, "do you know why there's a Federal Reserve in the 21st century?" While he stumbled, she ripped off the CSA-01's control chip and inserted it into the cryopod terminal, "To teach me...how to short God!"

The cellar suddenly shook violently. All the cryo-pods opened in sync, and hundreds of Victoria/Eleanor's corpses awoke like zombies.CSA-02 took the opportunity to hold Lincoln down in the pod, and CSA-03 grinned as he typed in the commands, "Mom said that capital likes to cycle through the harvest - like you do every four years in the presidential election."

As Eleanor escapes from the White House, clutching a fuzzy-conscious CSA-01, the screams of Lincoln being torn apart by his own clone come from behind her. She sat in the carriage and flipped through her journal, shivering at the newly surfaced words, "The seventh cycle has begun, kill all adopted children now to still restart..."

The CSA-01 in her arms suddenly convulsed, mechanical fingers digging into her collarbone, "Mom, my initial command number zero is...make sure you're stuck in 1861 forever."

Three hundred miles away, plantation slaves are setting cotton fields ablaze. In the firelight, the ashes of the draft paper of the Emancipation Proclamation rise into the shape of dollar signs, while some untouched cryopod in the cellar displays a new countdown: on December 31st, 2140, the fourth Fed doomsday rate hike is initiated.

Chapter 5: Frozen My Body in the White House Vaults