This is the east coast of Country E, covered in ice and snow year-round. Only the bravest creatures can settle here. The people who live here are often adventurous, and due to the scarcity of resources, they have explored a set of principles for living in harmony with nature.
One of the principles is to make friends with animals.
Vasily has lived here for 24 years. He grew up here with the dream of becoming a forest ranger like his grandfather. Near his home is the largest primeval forest here, and at the edge of it is the secret base he built as a child - a cabin in the forest.
Today, March 9th, should have been a day of rest after a busy week, but it was also Vasily's day of redemption. Three years ago on this day, he met Larisa, a cute little Arctic fox. He didn't know how she had made it here, crossing hundreds of kilometers of frozen mountains.
He, then a trainee forest ranger, ignored his master's advice and adopted her, raising her semi-free in the forest. She was indeed adorable then, and still is now, but she was very small. His master's advice was sensible. Raising a protected wild animal would have been extremely difficult for him, and he should have left it to professionals. But he simply replied, "No, she can't wait," and took her home.
Today, Vasily prepared about 500 pounds of cheese patties—a kind of food made from animal offal mixed with cheese (fictitious + imaginary)—for Larissa. Preparing these meals cost him almost three months of pocket money, which kept him living on a tight budget for a long time.
Just a few days ago, when he was awakened by the sound of "dong dong dong" footsteps, he saw a huge, fluffy foxtail with a spotless white tail dangling from the pine tree in his backyard, and a pair of charming, huge blue eyes staring at him through the window in front of him. It's really hard to imagine, "I" mean, if you can't accept this setting, then you certainly can't imagine Vasily's happiness.
He left the house unable to express what he had seen. As far as he could remember, Larissa had been a normal-sized fox last week. No, it wasn't that she wasn't normal now, or that other foxes weren't normal. It was just that she was so small back then, only a box of fresh meat would do. "I wonder what she ate to get so big!" was the only thought that came to his mind.
What happened next was the same as it had been for the past three years: petting the fox, feeding it, petting the fox, feeding it... She didn't need to eat as much as he had imagined, just a refrigerator full of food, and he even emptied the vodka in the freezer. Then, around sunset, he suddenly heard a few strange syllables coming out of her throat: "Friends? Friend?"
If, "I" means if, your pet could suddenly speak one day, what would you do?
If, and I am still saying if, you find out that your pet is smarter than you, what will you do?
"Larissa is not a pet!" Vasily replied at the time. She was his angel of salvation.
When he arrived at the edge of the forest with a pickup truck loaded with cheese patties taller than a man, he found Larissa already there. He noticed a hint of confusion in her eyes, so he asked, "Are you leaving?"
"I can't stay here." Her face glanced towards a path in the forest.
Following her gaze, Vasily saw that the coniferous forest a short distance behind the path was now frozen by frost, and much of it had broken into pieces as if crushed, forming a clearing. In one corner of this clearing, a long strip of bare black mud lay with a few charred pine trees.
He took out a picnic blanket from the car, spread it on the snow beside the road, and then moved the bundles of meat patties onto the picnic blanket: "Forget about those, my friend, you are my best friend!"
(I bring you the story of the little fox repaying his gratitude, I hope you like it)
. . . . . .
On the other hand, there is an ancient civilization.
The passion for farming is something that is engraved in everyone's genes. "How you treat the land is how the land will treat you." This is what they often say.
But now there are fewer things that can be grown.
About a week ago, mutations of varying magnitude appeared across all Solanaceae crops. Many farmers were killed in their own fields, slain by potatoes. "Potato mines" are no joke these days. Even the urgent dispatch of experts from the government to investigate the situation has yielded no results. "Completely random, impossible to isolate, and hereditary!" These are the conclusions.
No one could comprehend this phenomenon. It wasn't a virus, a chemical weapon, or even human error. "What's next?" Experts could only seek to cut their losses.
Then, the "popular" "chili bombs," "hallucinogenic tomatoes," and "paralysis goji berries" were discovered one after another. Crops like these were indeed difficult to handle. Any freshly picked raw materials in the warehouse that had not yet been processed and were still active would mutate.
In the space of a week, numerous warehouses collapsed, some of which were complex storage facilities. Consequently, many commodities became difficult to supply.
But what is the next one? Will there be a next one?
The answer is yes.
. . . . . .
Drones carrying loudspeakers flew over the city.
They are systematically and massively culling stray animals in the city, using every possible means.
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