Chapter 742 Gotham 1990_3

Cobblepot arrived at the Iceberg Restaurant by car. By this time, the children, already dressed in waiter uniforms, were lined up, listening to a waiter explaining their job duties.

"Firstly, I am going to teach you how to clean. I don't know if any of you have done this before, but it is actually straightforward. Everyone will be split into three groups. One group will handle dry cleaning, another wet cleaning, and the last will refill water. Your job is to make sure the floor, tables, and chairs here are all clean..."

"Those with strength, go to the water refilling group. The weakest, go to the dry cleaning group. You, yes you, have you recovered from your fever?" The waiter called out the frailest little boy among them. He felt the boy's head and said, "No, you're still feverish. Go get another pill, then go lie down."

But who knew, the small boy trembled and said: "I can work… I'm not sick – I know how to mop. I've done it before…"

"Fine, if you put a rag into cold water and wash it, you'll be dead by tonight. Do you expect me to get up in the middle of the night and throw your corpse into the dumpster?" Cobblepot stepped forward and said, "If you all died like this, who would work?"

The waiter urged the small boy: "Hurry up and go. If you're better tomorrow, we'll call on you."

The small boy sniffed and the look of terror on his face slightly receded. He nodded and went away.

Once the remaining children started working, Cobblepot realized these children did not know how to work. They couldn't even mop properly.

These children were at most seven or eight years old and especially frail due to long-term malnutrition. They could hardly do any physical labor. But the area they had to clean wasn't big. The nine children should've been able to finish quickly working together.

But they cleaned the floor haphazardly, mopping forward instead of backward. The cleaned spots were immediately stepped on and dirtied. Two would clean a chair, leaving the seating area shiny, but the legs untouched.

Cobblepot stood there watching for a while. He was not angry, instead, he turned to the waiter and said, "Is Mrs. George here? Ask her to come and teach them how to work. Besides cleaning, they will need to learn how to boil water, serve dishes, clean shoes, carry luggage, accept umbrellas, and all the other tasks a waiter needs to do…"

The waiter shook his head: "Cleaning floors and serving dishes are fine, but the other tasks require quite a bit of strength. We should see if they can handle it…"

"I have already hired professional waiters like you. They will report here tomorrow. Each of them will bring two children along, letting them help out. If any of these kids can't handle the work, send them to deliver newspapers."

Cobblepot finished speaking and went upstairs, leaving no further instructions. His attention was never fully on the children. It's almost as if he didn't care for them. However, to the children, this behavior made them breathe a sigh of relief.

They knew that if Cobblepot started devoting his energy to them, like their former parents used to, it meant he would want to extract ten or even hundred times the returns from them.

But if Cobblepot didn't pay much attention to them, didn't care how they worked or how much money they made, it meant that he was wealthy, with no need to squeeze them for money.

Upon reaching upstairs, Cobblepot stood on the balcony of the mansion. He could see the lights on the dock from here. Despite starting to drizzle, the dock was still bustling with traffic. Countless cargo unloaded from the ships was moved into trucks and placed into cold storage.

It would not take long before these goods were taken out of the cold storage, loaded onto other vehicles, and distributed throughout the East Coast.

Gotham has become the largest refrigerated transport distribution center on the East Coast. The natural cold storage, covering the entire Gotham underground, is the trump card for the sustainable industrial development of this mega-city.

The cold-chain industry can serve as the economic pillar of a city. Typically, a coastal city's cold-chain industry doesn't exist in isolation. It pairs with the fishing industry, light processing industry, and tourism.

Such complementary industries might not make a city first-class, but they could indeed become the foundation of economic development.

The problem is, Gotham can't develop fishing, light processing, or tourism. Relying solely on the cold-chain industry cannot replace the unsustainable gray and black industries.

"Things are definitely better now." Gordon put down his fork and wiped his mouth, saying: "For the security of a city, the most frightening thing is having vagabonds everywhere. But on the contrary, if everyone has a job, the crime rate will be much lower."

"Working costs energy. Fighting with the mob also drains energy, and you may get injured. Working earns money. Fighting may enlarge one's territory, yet the profits might not be as much as the earnings from work. So why not work?" Shiller said while cutting the steak on his plate.

"Exactly, it's like that. The mob bosses who I come into regular contact with also say the same. Their followers are too busy to pick up a gun. One of them said, if I drove my patrol car along the main street, I might not encounter anyone who would shoot at me. This would have been unimaginable before," Gordon said with a sigh.