Chapter 81: Going out to play is not something you can enjoy simply by having money...
Wherever the police mechas passed, the dust they raised covered the twilight with a layer of gray mist. The bustling crowd did not really disperse. Instead, after the crush, it gathered more and more, becoming more and more crowded and dense, and soon filled No. 11's field of vision.
No. 11 was born in a commoner family. The high tuition fees made his studies stop at junior high school. However, facing this situation, a fitting quote came to his mind:
Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it.
No. 11 looked through the periscope and felt dizzy.
The crowd was agitated angrily, wave after wave, surging like a tide. They would surround the mecha wherever it went. After one wave retreated, another wave would come up to make up for it. It seemed like there would be no end.
"Get off here, you scum of the sea, you're not even sparing the children!"
"Go back to your underwater hell, devil!"
No. 11 was unable to move forward and shouted into the loudspeaker with a weak breath: "Get out of the way, everyone, get out of the way, are you guys dying?"
His mind was in a mess, and he couldn't help thinking, whose parents are these, whose children are those, and how many families will be destroyed every time he stepped on the accelerator...
The superior's voice came from the intercom, cold and without a trace of humanity: "No. 11, continue to drive away the mob. I repeat, continue to drive away the mob."
That voice was like a knife hanging over one's head. The orders were repetitive and mechanical, but the purpose was to kill fellow human beings.
Finally, No. 11 threw a punch at the intercom that was crackling and emitting sparks, and shouted in despair: "I can't do it, I don't want to kill anyone, I refuse orders, I want to resign--"
The other party was silent for a few seconds: "Do you want to be a traitor?"
No. 11 lay prone on the operating table, covering his head in an evasive manner. The superior sneered, hung up channel 11, and connected to guard number 12 next to him, and issued a cold order:
"Number 12, eliminate the traitor Number 11 and you will be promoted."
"Yes." No. 12 answered decisively.
In the world of the marine tribe, the strong prey on the weak, and it's either you die or I die. A weak person who cannot be ruthless is destined to be eaten by his own kind.
Today's new empire is no longer a suitable place for good people to survive.
A thin young man stood in the midst of the parade that was moving like a wave. He had a camera hanging around his neck, his finger always on the shutter button, not wanting to miss any shot.
Just now, the photographer thought he had taken the best-composed and most meaningful photo of his life.
He couldn't help but cut out the screen and admired it carefully:
The photo has strong tones, with a sharp contrast between the foreground and background. The entire picture is stained with a delicate blush like an oil painting under the setting sun. The blood-red sun hung behind the sculpture, like the halo of a god descending to the earth. The giant copper-cast and iron sculpture has a stern look, overlooking the earth and looking towards the center of the picture - the young man who was run over by the mecha tracks struggled to hand the little girl out from under the wheels. At the same time, countless hands reached in from outside the picture, eager to catch the child.
At the moment the hands touched, the photographer pressed the shutter.
Make this moment completely freeze in eternity.
The clever composition and conflicting meanings of this photo give it a kind of absurdity like Picasso's "Guernica", but the delicate color tones and the golden ratio are full of the passion of "Liberty Leading the People".
The photographer casually added it to his portfolio, named it "Handover", and prepared to submit it together to this year's Interstellar Alliance Photography Art Competition.
At that time, he didn't know that this photo would become a strong dark horse, not only winning a major photography award, but also appearing on the annual covers of major media. As a result, he got the opportunity and was invited to enter the revolutionary army headquarters to conduct an in-depth interview with the protagonist of the photo.
The photographer took a casual glance and found that the white-haired young man was sitting on a bench by the roadside to rest.
The other person's cheeks were thin and delicate. Although he still looked young, there was a kind of calmness in his eyes that came from the weathering of time. Faced with the prying eyes coming and going, he neither felt embarrassed nor dodged. Instead, he took out the screwdriver he carried with him and tried to remove the remnants of the prosthesis.
In public, I dismantled my tattered self on the street.
The photographer's pupils trembled, his heart beat faster, and he raised the camera to his eyes.
Adjust the focus.
It’s a contradiction. It’s so contradictory. The young people's indifference and the crowd's shock and anger form a sharp contrast; the inorganic beauty of the bionic man and the rough dismantling are also a huge contradiction.
It’s like a bug in the running of a world program, giving it a kind of eerie beauty that’s heart-stirring.
The photographer pressed the shutter button, and the LCD screen flashed, and suddenly a column of words popped up:
【Image error occurred! 】
Take three more pictures in a row and then switch back to look.
【Image error occurred! 】
The photographer was stunned; he had never encountered anything like this before. Could it be that the temperature is too cold and the camera components are malfunctioning? Impossible. This camera has accompanied him through storms as low as minus 40 degrees Celsius, and its quality has remained strong.
Just as he was about to remove the battery and restart to convince himself that this was not a supernatural event, the people around him suddenly sped up their flow.
Just like a school of sardines encountering a huge, slow-moving blue whale, the crowd densely and naturally dispersed in all directions. This kind of concession was not forced, but stemmed from the respect and submission to the giant in the genes.
The photographer stood on tiptoe and looked over the moving heads.
A line of bodyguards walked into the parade. Their average height was two meters, and the exposed data interfaces on their necks showed that they were a group of AI-controlled bionic humans. They were tall and silent, wearing the same gray-moon-white smocks with the shoulder lapels woven in crimson and sea blue.
This color scheme easily reminds people of the flag of the old empire.
The bionic bodyguards walked forward quietly, and a gust of sea breeze blew, lifting their hems. Everyone's pupils shrank as they vaguely caught a glimpse of the anti-material particle sniper rifle hanging under the hood.
It was a 1.5-meter-long beast with terrifying power, but the muzzle was pointing downwards.
Being able to take out an armored vehicle with one shot, it was obviously not aimed at civilians.
Such a majestic and restrained force made the photographer react. The manufacturer of these bionic humans should be the Gorgon Design Bureau, the eldest son of the old empire left in the civilian population.
In the eyes of the photographer, the team of bodyguards was like a huge wave of white sand, forcefully leaving a deep mark in the shallows of the crowd. In this quiet and deep corridor, a man was walking slowly towards them carrying a "coffin".
No, it can’t be called a “coffin”, it’s more like a box for a cello.
The light brown box is about two meters long, with thin and smooth lines, and is wrapped in crocodile leather with a dark and elegant style. There are leather belts on each side that are fastened through the box and buckled with brass rivets. When you turn to the side, you can also see a gold-inlaid handle and a combination lock. And these designs are enough to illustrate its purpose——
Transporting valuables.
The setting sun scattered its last rays of light, transforming the figure into a floating scene of light. The scattered light and shadows accentuate the majestic and steep outline of the body.
In people's sight, he was carrying a two-meter-long box on his shoulder, but there was not even the slightest shaking.
That is the sense of power that top male animals can be proud of.
“Long——”
The box fell to the ground, raising a swirling circle of ash.
Everyone held their breath involuntarily as they watched the tall alpha kneel down on one knee, ignoring the dirt and dust, and stretch out his pale, slender fingers to pick up the scattered prosthetic fragments on the ground.
One piece after another.
If there are parts that are too broken to be picked up, just put your palms together and pick them up.
Everyone looked at this scene in shock, then looked at the parts scattered all over the floor, and suddenly realized -
The other party came to "collect the bodies".
But in fact, there was no blood on the ground, and the alpha's behavior seemed a bit extreme and crazy. Everyone shook their heads, finding it difficult to understand.
But Alpha just lowered his eyelashes, silently suppressed the whirlpool in his eyes, and picked up the fragments without saying a word.
Debris, ashes, self-sacrifice, flying towards the electric fence, a bird on a wooden stake that was broken into pieces and could not be picked up...these concepts swirled in his mind.
He didn't say a word, but people felt their muscles ache for no apparent reason. A terrifying and oppressive solemnity quietly spread in the air, and along with the frequency of the heartbeat, the contraction of the arteries began to increase and become more severe.
This seemed to be a funeral procession with time and space disorder.
"Fuck!" A shocked curse word broke the silence.
The photographer woke up as if from a dream and turned to look at the source of the sound. The white-haired young man jumped out of the crowd and rushed towards the half-crouching figure, like a young bird returning to the forest, and tightly hooked his hands around the man's neck, shouting in panic:
"Don't pick it up, don't pick it up--"
In full view of everyone, the young man stuffed his mutilated self into his chest.
"Here are the big ones, all for you!"
This conversation is so strange, weird and yet with a hint of lingering depth. People can't understand it, but can't help but follow them to watch.
The alpha wearing a veil raised his hand. The square emerald ring on his finger shone in the afterglow, so noble and noble that it was breathtaking. He uttered two words in a low voice:
"Go in."
When the box is opened, the inner cavity of the cushioning sponge wrapped in light beige leather is revealed before your eyes.
Everyone didn't understand the function of the wooden box, but the photographer opened his eyes wide in surprise. He had been a war correspondent on the front lines for a while and had seen these kinds of [recycling boxes].
That’s right, its full name is [Vital Signs Maintenance Recovery Box], which is equivalent to a concentrated first aid cabin, specially designed for use when senior generals on the battlefield are injured. The high-end version with complete functions is worth hundreds of millions, and each one needs to wait for several years to be customized. It is not something you can enjoy simply by having money.
However, in recent years, many aristocratic guardians have ordered low-end versions worth two to three million to carry their Omega over long distances.
It feels a bit like...packing up a doll.
The white-haired young man was as delicate as a doll. He opened his thin lips blankly, his body trembling imperceptibly, and he had not yet escaped from the crushing stress reaction.
In fact, he was experiencing phantom limb pain like never before.
When he thought his expression was calm and flawless, someone grabbed his waist and put him into the box with unquestionable force, like a furry cat.
With a few "clicks", the built-in fixing frame of the box started up, fitting the curve of the body and locking the young man's hands and feet inside to achieve the purpose of safe fixation.
A word inexplicably popped up in everyone's mind: going out cat bag.
Bai Ling had no time to react before the lid of the box was completely closed. But the designer obviously took claustrophobia into consideration, and a window screen quickly appeared on the inside of the lid, allowing people to see what’s happening outside in real time, while outsiders cannot peek inside.
For veterans who are in a state of stress all year round, this kind of rescue-style transportation is more considerate of their psychology and self-esteem than simply carrying them out in public.
Soon, the square piece of sky shook slightly, and he was carried steadily on the shoulders again.
Alpha's shoulders, his majesty's shoulders.
Bai Ling lay flat in a daze, being transported extremely safely.
Strange, so strange...
The sky was filled with crimson clouds, and the blood-red setting sun dyed the entire world. In the corner of the field of vision, slightly curly golden hair leaked out from the ears, swaying brilliantly in the wind.
Bai Ling's heart skipped a beat and his mind flooded with countless images in an instant.
The soldiers sacrificed their lives for the people and shed their blood. After they died in a foreign land, their broken bodies were packed into boxes and solemnly transported by a team wearing the colors of the old national flag.
This was probably the best destination that Commander Bai could have imagined in his previous life.
However, his body fragments from his previous life were scattered everywhere, and the only thing that came to "pick" him up was the garbage truck in the early morning. He never thought that his tattered self could be collected by others.
So cherished, so respected.
Now, his homeland lifts him up and supports him on its shoulders. He looked at the crimson sky, tears welling up in his eyes, and muttered to himself:
"This is crazy..."
Why do we need this sense of ritual?
His hands and feet were locked, and he couldn't raise his hands to wipe his face. He could only let the tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn't control the movement of his facial muscles, and finally pursed his eyes with a hint of happiness.
But he likes it this way.
"I'm crazy, too," he admitted cheerfully.
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