1 Parade of Bell Tower Street
If you overlook Eastwood from outer space, it is a beautiful star. The green wilderness covers the star's surface like blue sea water stretching as far as the eye can see. The pale tunnels in the star's surface, pierced by rays of light and particles in the upper atmosphere, reveal an indescribable sense of dim aesthetics. It resembles many years' worth of oil paintings covered in the dust of history.
However, for the residents and orphans of Eastwood, this star is nothing more than a stone. Apart from the stone, there is nothing else. Even though these green wilderness areas gradually become a numb and determined sight, they are only a source of wealth and a glorious history in the eyes of the Eastwood people. Their vision is accustomed to piercing through the soil, focusing only on the mineral deposits that the people of Eastwood desire most.
According to the administrative plan, Eastwood is a second-level administrative district, on the same administrative level as the three eye-catching stars of the Capital Star Circle and Westwood Grand District. However, in the hearts of Federation citizens, remote Eastwood is a forgotten corner. Except for occasional mentions of Eastwood during the 600-year celebration of the federal government's establishment, Eastwood does not exist for the wealthy and civilized society.
Eastwood Grand District has only one star, Eastwood Star. This may sound like a mere tale, but it is not. The name of the Eastwood Grand District originates from Eastwood Star, indicating the vital significance this star had for human society in the extremely distant past.
Since various ores were excavated in Eastwood Grand District, Eastwood Star has gradually become a desolate star. There is nothing here but stones, without any ores. Only stones remain.
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Those who can leave Eastwood have already done so. Relying on their specialized skills and savings, they successfully obtained proof of household register transfer with the help of family members in the Capital Star Circle or Westwood Grand District. Due to the shortage of energy and fewer flights, they left this increasingly lifeless place behind.
However, only a few are able to obtain proof of household register transfer. Leaving under certain conditions and abandoning the star means providing for the livelihoods of many. In a relatively developed material civilization, warm and sufficient conditions are no longer a concern. The people of Eastwood Star continue to live calmly and steadily. Public aid provided by society still plays an extremely vital role, currency continues to circulate steadily, and companies, airports, food processing plants, machine armor maintenance stands, computer joint centers, and even an armament base still exist in this world.
Everything that should be there, can be there, exists in Area Eastwood. But it still cannot conceal the old scent of melancholy and the smell of death emanating from every street, every building, and every vacant space, seeping into the faces of people on television.
With thousands of years of ore excavation, Eastwood Grand District continuously supported the federal society, acting like a river carrying nutrients to the plain. However, as this river gradually dried up and turned into a dried-up stream, the support the federal society received from Eastwood became insufficient. Humans not only need to survive, they also need to experience happiness.
The people of Eastwood have a long history of endurance, resilience, and the spirit to endure hardship and hard work. This period of history has persisted since ancient times, but the current circumstances have made them feel deep sorrow and helplessness. Without ores to mine, there is nothing to do. From a certain perspective, even the absence of mining accidents is not the life the people of Eastwood desire.
The hardworking people of Eastwood have earned the nickname "Eastwood stones" in the federal society. The present-day people of Eastwood have become even more silent, even more indifferent stones. They have turned themselves into statues, sitting on their familiar sofas and chairs, in their familiar homes, as if they will never move again.
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"The life of an illiterate person has enough soap operas," Deputy Director Bao Nongtao of the second police station in Hexi Province muttered with a calm expression on his face as he walked along Bell Tower Street in the cool breeze, observing the numb expressions of the residents drinking in the corner tavern. This was what he thought in his heart.
Deputy Director Bao was also one of the Eastwood stones. His serious and stern demeanor, like that of a stone, had a significant impact on the Bell Tower Street area under the darkness. When he patrolled Bell Tower Street, the black market peddlers who sold contraband goods would flee at the mere sight of him at the speed of a battleship, accompanied by the graceful presence of his black uniformed subordinates following behind him, catching everyone's attention.
However, Bao Longtao suddenly realized that he was being followed by three reporters today, and his heart skipped a beat. In his subconscious, he buttoned up his collar and turned around with a calm rhythm, facing the press woman holding a microphone, forcing an awkward smile that seemed like a stone cracking.
"The public security of Bell Tower Street has always been good..." Bao Longtao tried to speak calmly to the press woman, despite not leaving a frivolous impression. This time, he was on duty at the request of the Hexi Province Office, and Deputy Director Bao couldn't afford to be negligent.
Not feeling comfortable with the situation, his subordinates from the police public relations branch naturally stepped forward to engage with the reporters. Bao Longtao sighed inwardly and shook his head.
He had served in Eastwood Grand District for 13 years, surpassing the age limit set by the Tojo case by seven years, but he couldn't bear to stay in this lifeless place for another seven years. Did he want to be like those unemployed miners, passing the time by watching television every day?
However, the federal regulations were very strict. Although he had been promoted quickly in Eastwood, he still had to reach a certain age to be transferred back to the Capital Star Circle or Westwood Grand District. Although Bao Longtao knew a few respected families in the periphery, asking them to act as guarantors for his young chief was highly unlikely.
Therefore, he could only rely on his achievements. Today, Deputy Director Bao personally brought reporters to Bell Tower Street, considering the situation from this perspective.
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Deputy Director Bao's frustrated expression did not last long. It was quickly replaced by a look of shock!
The press woman, curious about the questions she was asking, didn't hear his response. Instead, she followed his gaze and looked at the exit of the four lanes on Bell Tower Street.
The reporters also noticed Deputy Director Bao's loss of control, and his pale and ugly complexion resembled a stone covered in moss after being submerged in a river for dozens of years. He seemed to have transformed into a terrifying monster at any moment.
The reporters followed Bao Longtao's gaze and also let out surprised exclamations. Especially the press woman, who covered her mouth and let out a soft cry.
On the peaceful street of Bell Tower Street, which was usually swayed by the cool breeze in the business area, there suddenly arose a cacophony of footsteps. These footsteps were not synchronized, nor did they resemble the sound of drums. However, they were dense and countless, and suddenly, a large number of people appeared out of nowhere.
In the next moment, these people flooded into Bell Tower Street from the four lane entrances, occupying most of the sidewalk and intersections. Their momentum was astonishing, not only startling pedestrians and several police officers and reporters on the street, but even the Eastwood residents enjoying their coffee and alcohol, who were surprised and leaned out of their windows to see what was happening.
To be precise, it was a group of young people who flooded into the four lanes. Most of them appeared to be 15 or 16 years old, and some of their faces were covered in dirt, making it hard to determine their actual age, but they seemed to be around ten years old.
These youngsters were wearing various clothes, but there was a uniformity, an eerie quality to their appearance. They were dressed in black—black jackets, black T-shirts, black shirts. The boys seemed to have picked up black clothes from their homes that hadn't been washed in years, covered in the black and gray dust of the ore.
More than a hundred of these unknown youngsters, dressed in black, had a simultaneously funny and intimidating aura. They arrived on Bell Tower Street and stopped in front of Deputy Director Bao and the reporters.
In his subconscious, Deputy Director Bao took a step forward and fixed his gaze on the person at the front, as he recognized him.
The press woman instinctively took several steps back, cautiously observing the expressions of these youngsters. She didn't know what these black-clad youngsters were up to, and whether her personal safety could be ensured.
"In broad daylight, why aren't you at school? What are you doing here?" Deputy Director Bao sternly shouted, his roar making the faction leaders of Bell Tower Street tremble. But today, these youngsters showed a look of contempt on their faces at the same time, completely ignoring him.
The leader of the group, who seemed more mature than his age, looked directly at Bao Longtao with wide eyes, showing no fear. He said, "We have the power to petition!"
"Petition?" As soon as she heard these two words, the press woman, who had been hiding behind Deputy Director Bao, suddenly became excited. She raised her finely made-up face and asked with a trembling voice, "What is your goal?"
The leader of the group didn't immediately respond to the reporter's question. Instead, he raised his fist and, in an instant, several slogans appeared among the black-clad group of youngsters, painted in bold characters. The slogans were striking.
"We strongly oppose regional protectionism!"
"We strongly oppose control of television signals!"
"We want to access all 23 federal channels!"
"We want to watch Jian Shui'er!" [Note: The meaning of "Jian Shui'er" is unclear without further context]
The youngest boy, with dirt on his face, shouted with immense grief and indignation, uttering several slogans, but his voice was clear and sharp, carrying a lovable and somewhat comical feeling due to his extremely young appearance.
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The press woman believed she had stumbled upon a great news story. However, after reading the demands written on these slogans, she was left dumbfounded. She turned to Deputy Director Bao with a bewildered expression and asked, "Who are these children... I mean, what kind of people are they?"
Deputy Director Bao, who was on the verge of losing control, shifted his gaze from these absurd slogans and gritted his teeth as he muttered under his breath, "A group of damned orphans!"
