In a brightly lit room, Preston lay on his bed, watching the brand new television. He couldn't help but sigh. The Federation was indeed the best country in the world for people to live in.
It was a multi-ethnic country. You could see any race you thought existed in the world on the streets. People wouldn't stop breathing just because they had different skin colors.
It was just a friendly joke. After all, it was a free country, a fair and just country. That kind of thing wouldn't happen.
He had once lived in Guevara. The situation in Guevara was much worse than here. The arrogance of the Guevara People made them look down on all races other than the Guevara People.
They would give all kinds of ugly nicknames to anyone they saw who wasn't from the Guevara People. If you took it seriously and got angry, they would look at you with arrogant eyes and ask you questions in an irritating tone. Couldn't you tell that it was a joke?
If you continued to get angry, they would attack you with the words "uncultured inferior race who will never understand the humor of the upper class" until you were defeated by their words, or you punched them and were sent to prison.
If you could withstand their cynicism, they would then call you "nickname" and "name", and finally it would become a "nickname", and an ugly one at that.
But here, there was no discrimination. Everyone was equal. You could raise your middle finger to those well-dressed gentlemen and ladies without any consequences. You could also stand at the door of your neighbor's house in the evening and scold the governor or the president to get closer to them. You didn't have to worry that the gendarmerie would appear in front of you and hang you in the square.
With advanced technology and a more tolerant society, as long as you had enough money in your pocket, this was heaven.
Preston felt that he should find a time to go to the countryside. The document management system in the countryside was very lax, and there were no monitoring agencies that would keep an eye on the countryside.
He could easily slip his birth certificate into the files of a town through some means and become a citizen of the Federation.
The money in his secret account was enough for him to squander here for the rest of his life. It was time to say goodbye to the past.
He picked up the hot dog and took a bite. The fragrant cheese and various sauces wrapped around the hot dog sausage made him want to take another bite.
The TV was broadcasting some news related to Nagalil. The news said that through the efforts of the President, the Nagalil Joint Development Corporation had recruited about 35,000 construction workers from the community. They were going to Nagalil in batches to help the people of Nagalil escape poverty and hunger.
Furthermore, Mr. President promised that they would open up more international trade channels and establish the possibility of mutual commerce with more countries so that the Federation's products could sell well all over the world!
The people on the television cheered and danced, as if the Federation's economic problems had been solved overnight. The president's personal popularity was also rising.
Preston was a little envious. In his eyes, the people of the Federation and the Federation were contradictory. They were very sad — most of them actually served the capitalists all their lives, and helped the capitalists exploit and oppress them.
From the moment they were born, almost ninety-nine percent of them had their fates set and would not change.
But they were very happy because in this country, sensitive things like identity and class were not as distinct as in Nagalil.
People of a certain class could enjoy the treatment of a certain class. Commoners could never enter the places or facilities that only the nobles could enter. They were not even allowed to use some special symbols and patterns of various daily necessities because those were exclusive to the nobles.
But look at this place, as long as people had money in their pockets, they could go to the places where most of the rich and powerful and politicians frequented. As long as they could afford it, they could enjoy everything that a small group of people at the top could enjoy.
It was contradictory, but also enviable.
Light footsteps came from outside the door. Preston put the hot dog in his hand on the bedside table. He quickly put one hand under the pillow of the bed next to him and held a pistol.
In the Federation, as long as he had money, he could buy anything, including a pistol with its serial number erased.
The cold and heavy touch gave him a sense of security. The door opened.
The young girl in plain clothes walked in with a paper bag in her hand. She placed the paper bag beside the bed and began to change her clothes.
She did not avoid the man on the bed. She did not even close the window completely. She took off her coat and changed into a tube top. Then, she changed into a more conservative lady's blouse. She was going to work soon. Her job at the supermarket required her to dress more conservatively.
Since Preston lived with her, her life gradually returned to normal.
For some reason she did not know, her stepfather backed off in front of Preston and admitted defeat. Then, Preston and her rented a nice house nearby. She escaped the shadows of the past and started a new life.
During this period, the boys came to her once, but were chased away by Preston. Then, she brought Preston to a dealer on the street who specialized in selling contraband. She got a pistol and some bullets from him. These were all used to protect themselves.
As for her, she had found a job in a supermarket.
Every day, from 1: 30 pm to 7: 30 pm, seven hours of work. The salary of this job was not high, but it was enough for her.
To be able to return to the right track of life was the greatest gift that God had given her. She did not ask for more.
"There's some food in the bag. I might be back a little late tonight. Today, we have to count the shelves. Everyone needs help."
The girl explained a little to Preston.
The economy was not doing well. Some "voluntary" labor was not compulsory for employees. This was the freedom of the Federation. However, it was also the company's freedom to dismiss and lay off employees.
So whenever the supermarket needed to do something, everyone would consciously help out. They did not ask for any overtime pay.
Preston nodded. After the girl packed her clothes, she walked to the bed, bent down, and kissed him on the forehead.
At first, Preston was not used to the girl using this gesture to show intimacy. In Gevra, kissing the forehead was a blessing given to family members by old grandmothers, godfathers, and the head of the family.
It was more like a symbol of status between the dominant and the dominated. Preston did not feel like he was the dominated one, but he was gradually getting used to it.
After his young girlfriend left, he focused his attention on the television. The Federation's television and the rich channels were f * cking good stuff. Even someone like Preston felt that he could lie on the bed or the sofa in the living room forever as long as there was a television and a phone.
"In a decadent country, people have lost the spirit to fight. They only know how to enjoy the status quo!"
Preston mocked the value of television, then changed the channel and began his joyful journey of sh * t and sh * t.
After watching for more than an hour, his body's metabolic function told him that he needed to deal with his excrement. Just as he got up, he subconsciously looked in the direction of the window. Then, he was slightly stunned.
On the opposite side of the road, there was a black commercial van with dark-colored glass.
Before coming to the Federation, Mr. Preston had heard of this joke. "In the Federation, you can easily distinguish the identities of 'police', 'Federation agents', 'Federation agents', and 'tax investigators', even if they hide their identities."
He had always treated this sentence as a joke. It was not until he started to really integrate into the life here that he realized it was not a joke.
The police would always put their hands on their waist when talking to you because they would habitually put their hands on their holsters and handles during work. This habit would be brought into their daily lives, whether it was at work or after work.
Federation agents would always wear dark-colored formal wear, and almost all of them were of the same brand and design. They would appear to be very "reserved". In fact, it was a special kind of "arrogance". They would feel that they were better than others, and this feeling was cultivated during their work.
As for the agents, they would try their best to avoid direct contact with you. They always had a set of meticulous plans. Sometimes, these meticulous plans were too rigid, and they would be easily exposed.
As for the tax investigators … if they knocked on the door and you chose to remain silent, they would first threaten you in various ways, then smash the door and windows. Finally, they would tell you that if you did not open the door, they would take coercive measures.
Look, these people can be easily identified.
As for the car on the opposite side of the road, there was almost no need to guess that it was a Federation agent's car. According to the Federation's laws, non-government special vehicles were not allowed to use dark-colored glass, nor were they allowed to attach any reflective accessories.
This was to ensure that the police officers could clearly see what the people in the car were doing, whether they were armed, and whether they had raised their weapons.
Therefore, when a commercial van with dark-colored glass stopped on the road, it only took Preston 0.1 seconds to know that it might be coming for him.
He was silent for a moment. Then, he casually picked up his gun from the bed and went to the toilet to pee. Then, he swaggered out of the door and pointed at the commercial van on the opposite side of the road.
In an instant, some agents appeared behind the surrounding grass, in the bushes, and in the attic of the opposite house. They held all kinds of weapons in their hands and aimed at Preston. If he made the slightest movement, these people would shoot.