They called themselves The Evergreen Council—a group of twelve leaders from across the Pacific Northwest who rose from mayors, governors, tribal leaders, scientists, and activists to become the Founding Fathers and Mothers of Cascadia. None had set out to create a new nation. But history has a way of choosing its stewards when the moment demands it.
The early days of Cascadia were equal parts hope and hardship.
Transition wasn’t smooth.
The first winter was brutal. Without FEMA support, Cascadia had to rely on citizen militias, decentralized logistics apps, and airdropped solar microgrids flown in by volunteer pilots. Borders were tense. The U.S. still hadn't formally recognized the new nation, though trade deals were quietly being made behind closed doors.
The Port of Seattle, vital for exports, faced international sanctions. Cascadia responded by launching BlueRoot, its own distributed trade network using blockchain shipping manifests and AI-managed cargo routing. Within a year, BlueRoot had outpaced the outdated U.S. port systems and became a template for other regions seeking autonomy.
But internal challenges threatened to fracture the movement. Eastern Oregon and Idaho had conservative communities that bristled at the Green Mandates. Arianna Zhou personally traveled to the towns, holding town halls, visiting farms, even camping with militia leaders. She didn’t always win them over—but she listened. Some towns eventually voted to rejoin the U.S., while others negotiated autonomy within Cascadia’s federal structure.
Education became the first unifying project.
A new public curriculum called The Evergreen Path was launched, blending environmental science, local history, civic literacy, and digital literacy from kindergarten onward. Schools became community hubs again—gardens, solar panels, shared meals, citizen apprenticeships.
And then came the Internet Rift.
In 2043, the U.S. began geo-fencing access to federal databases and cloud infrastructure, trying to “de-digitize” Cascadia. It backfired. With help from Scandinavian allies and open-source rebels around the globe, Cascadia launched SkyWeave—a decentralized internet balloon network powered by solar and mesh relays. Within months, rural towns had better access than they ever had under American ISPs.
By 2045, Cascadia had weathered its birth pangs. It wasn’t perfect. Wildfires still came. There were housing shortages, cyberattacks, and political factions splintering between eco-socialists, data libertarians, and neo-tribalists. But there was momentum.
Each year on Founding Day, held on July 4th, the Evergreen Council members would gather at the Olympic Capitol Dome—a circular building grown from living timber and mycelium-reinforced concrete. They’d stand beneath a skylight of stained glass showing the Columbia River, and read aloud from the Constitution:
We root ourselves in the soil, the sky, the sea, and each other.
We are the branches of tomorrow’s forest.
We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors. We borrow it from our children.
We are Cascadia.
And somewhere between hope and hardship, a nation was growing tall.