r18novel Chapter 23 Federal Ice Rain Night
Chapter 23 Federal Ice Rain Night
The mother on the other end of the screen didn't notice anything amiss with Aizhe. While knitting a blanket for her knees with yarn, she continued to ask with concern:
"Xiao Zhe, how's it going with the United States?"
"Has the government there provided you with emergency supplies, such as warm clothing and blankets, or given you food, cold medicine, and anti-inflammatory drugs?"
"I've heard that the United States is the richest country in the world, and online it's even called the world's beacon or something. I should be able to send you all that information, right?"
Upon hearing this, Ai Zhe felt a mix of emotions.
Mom, do you think the capitalist world is like China?
How could a cannibalistic capitalist country possibly provide a safety net for its people?
Thinking of the beggar who was coughed to death downstairs, and the countless disaster victims who were displaced by the flood and became homeless.
Aizhe smiled bitterly to himself, feeling that the things his mother had mentioned, which were commonplace in China, seemed like a distant fairy tale in the United States.
But he couldn't reveal this cruel truth.
He couldn't bear to see his mother, thousands of miles away in her homeland, already settled with the help of her country, still worrying day and night about her son's situation in a foreign land, adding unnecessary fear to her life.
So Aizhe could only give a vague answer to get by, saying that he was doing quite well.
Good luck, oh good luck...
Suddenly, Aizhe's phone rang. Left with no other option, he spoke to his mother:
"Mom, I have some work to do here, I'll hang up now."
"Xiao Zhe, you must take good care of yourself. Contact me anytime if anything happens!"
The mother gave her final words of advice, her eyes filled with reluctance.
"Okay, Mom. Take care, I'll go back as soon as possible."
Aizhe made the promise, his voice somewhat low.
"Take care, brother!" the younger brother waved.
"Yes, you too."
As the video call ended and the screen went dark, Ai Zhe's somewhat complicated expression was revealed.
He quickly composed himself, answered the phone, and replied in fluent but slightly tired English:
"Hey, senior brother, what's wrong?"
"Zhe! God, come to the hospital immediately! Something terrible has happened!"
"You know, ever since that damned ‘Doomsday Update’ broadcast a few days ago, the federal government has been imposing ridiculously high property taxes, utility bills, and all sorts of miscellaneous fees."
Countless people have had their homes confiscated and lost their jobs overnight because they couldn't pay their taxes, turning them into homeless people.
These homeless newcomers were inexperienced and had no idea that you should never go into those warm, heated sewers during the rainy season... As a result, with the torrential rain and flooding these past two days, they're all submerged!
The senior's voice paused for a moment, as if he was trying to suppress his discomfort:
"The temperature has been so low these days, and the sewers are all frozen solid... Their Gundam parts are frozen together with the sewage... Oh my god, the sight is indescribable!"
"Fuck, anyway... the city sent people to clear the ice from the sewers today, and they pulled out those unlucky Gundams along with the ice fragments. Now they're all piled up in a mess at the hospital's affiliated treatment center."
"Our mentor just received a notice that we need to go there immediately and put back together those Gundam parts that are mixed with ice shards and sewer filth as accurately as possible."
We also need to record the identification information and take samples for DNA comparison and archiving!
Fuck! I'm definitely going to have nightmares again tonight, and they'll be high-definition and uncensored ones!
Listening to his senior's incoherent description, Ai Zhe felt a strong nausea rush to his throat, and his scalp tingled slightly.
He used to help his mentor and the hospital deal with corpses or some severely damaged Gundams.
But he had never actually seen a scene where all the Gundams were frozen together by ice water and filth, then smashed and transported out.
Aizhe closed his eyes, paused for a moment, and said:
"I understand, senior brother, I'll be there soon."
Aizhe didn't want to go, but he had no choice.
His advisor's project is crucial to his graduation, and the generous assistant salary is his lifeline in the face of soaring prices and heavy taxes in the United States.
After hurriedly putting on a transparent plastic raincoat, Aizhe grabbed his keys and rushed downstairs.
As he passed the apartment building, he glanced instinctively at the spot where the homeless man had collapsed earlier.
The puddle was still there, but the bloodstains had been washed away by the continuous rain, leaving only faint stains. The homeless man who had been suffering from an illness and convulsing in pain there had vanished without a trace.
"Heh... The U.S. federal government is slow at allocating funds for disaster relief, but when it comes to collecting bodies, their speed is truly unparalleled."
Ai Zhe twitched the corners of his mouth and gave a mocking smile.
They then drove to the hospital.
……
……
Aizhe and his fellow students worked on building Gundam models and analyzing DNA information in the hospital, distinguishing federal citizens from undocumented immigrants and creating death records. They were busy until nightfall.
Watching those once vibrant lives turn into cold data on a computer screen, Aizhe felt numb yet filled with mixed emotions.
He walked to the steps at the back entrance of the hospital, sat down, and silently smoked a cigarette.
In an open space not far away, there was a simple tent with a row of relatively well-preserved victims lying underneath.
One of them was a citizen of the United States; the police have notified the family to come and claim the body.
The rest are almost all illegal immigrants.
They lay there silently in this foreign land, their deaths so quiet and lonely that even the person collecting their bodies seemed to have no one to help them.
Just as Aizhe was about to give up on staying in this wretched place, he stubbed out his cigarette and prepared to go back.
buzz-
Just then, a phone rang.
Ai Zhe looked in the direction of the sound.
The buzzing sound was coming from the bag of one of the bodies covered with a white sheet.
Aizhe's steps faltered in place.
He had a vague idea of what was going on.
After a few seconds of silence, Aizhe finally took a step and walked to the body.
Lifting the white sheet revealed a thin, wiry man as the victim.
He was wearing a shirt with a large U.S. flag printed on it, a shirt that had previously been used in the Union's external propaganda to symbolize the American Dream.
Many undocumented immigrants like to wear this garment as proof that they have come to this great land where their dreams can be realized.
Aizhe took a cell phone out of the man's pocket.
The phone belongs to Xia Wei from the University of Tokyo.
The quality is quite excellent; even after being soaked in cold water and frozen at low temperatures, it is still usable.
Aizhe pressed the side button, and the screen lit up completely.
The moment he saw the image on it, his breath caught in his throat, and his heart felt as if it were being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand.
The phone's lock screen wallpaper is a family photo.
In the center of the photo is the man lying in front of him at this moment.
His smile was somewhat shy, yet incredibly radiant, his eyes sparkling with anticipation for the future.
He was holding a little girl who looked about three or four years old. The girl had cute pigtails, rosy cheeks, and was making a not-so-perfect "V" sign with her hand at the camera, smiling adorably.
The name displayed on the caller ID also stung Aizhe's eyes:
My dearest baby
Aizhe's Adam's apple bobbed.
His fingertips hovered over the answer button, trembling slightly.
Finally, he mustered up the courage to swipe and answer the call.
A little girl's clear and anxious voice came through the receiver instantly. She spoke very quickly, and it was either a foreign language or a dialect that Aizhe couldn't understand.
After a moment of silence, Aizhe began in English, as smoothly as possible:
"I am sorry... I am so sorry to tell you this..."
In a businesslike manner, Aizhe briefly recounted the tragedy that had befallen Seattle and this man.
He provided the hospital's location and requested that the family come to claim the child.
Aizhe wasn't sure if the person on the other end of the phone could fully understand his English.
But after he finished speaking, there was a deathly silence on the other end of the line.
Immediately afterwards, suppressed sobs could be heard.
Aizhe understood that they must have understood.
He didn't say anything more.
Holding the phone that still displayed the family photo, I quietly looked at the American flag shirt worn by the man's body.
"You gave up your family, you gave up your hometown... Is this the American dream you're looking for?"
……
(The stories of Aja are all adapted from materials from the prison A 'King Squiche')