Chapter 1011: Car Accident and Materials

A mighty parade of demonstrators was continuously moving forward along the road. The people walking at the very front would, from time to time, wave their fists and then shout a few slogans, and the people behind would follow suit.

As a social activist, a public intellectual, organizing such an event was actually quite comfortable.

This was a very respectable "job," easy, leisurely, and noble.

These social activists would often have titles like scholars and experts in certain fields. Whether they were scholars or experts, ordinary people actually couldn't distinguish clearly.

But these identities held a lot of authority in the eyes of ordinary people. The less educated a person was, the narrower their access to information, the more they believed these people, and everything they said.

This is also why the main target group for social activists has always been the low-educated, bottom of society, and not the middle or upper classes.

The middle class of the Federation is the most difficult group to deal with. They have their own ability to think. Their perception of the world may be clearer than that of the upper class. It's possible to fool them, but only for a short time, not for a long period.

As for the people in the upper class, it is too easy for them to figure out whether these people are real or fake.

So no matter which region the social activists are from, their target is those ordinary people, the bottom of society.

And only among these low-level people do their identities as scholars and experts have sufficient authority.

These supporters, these fans they have manipulated, are their wealth.

In Golden State, inviting a public intellectual with a certain social influence, a social activist like them, to organize some social activities, cost at least a few thousand, up to tens of thousands, and some with a very high reputation might even cost hundreds of thousands!

This job is not like a worker on an assembly line, who needs to sit in a certain place and continuously repeat a certain action. That repetition lasts for an entire day.

Their work has no fixed time, no fixed location, and no fixed content. Many times, it is like today.

Leading a group of people to the streets to march and demonstrate, or giving a speech in a public place, attracting onlookers, and then they can get a "sponsorship fee" of a few thousand to tens of thousands.

So this is a job that makes people feel very comfortable. They can earn a lot of money just by talking and laughing. Normally, they just need to show their face everywhere and maintain their "fan base."

The few people walking at the very front are today's "protagonists," and the ones behind them are their fans, or rather, believers.

They have used some persuasive words to confuse these people, making them their loyal "listeners." Then, as long as they organize an event, they will bring all these people to participate.

Of course, participating is not without getting anything. They can get some benefits from these social activists' hands. Sometimes it might be worth two or three dollars, or three to five dollars.

Sometimes it might be two dollars or one dollar in cash.

Directly giving cash is rare. The main thing is to give items.

For these fan-believers, this is also a kind of a return.

They support these social activists, and the social activists also don't forget them when they organize events. In the end, this forms a closed loop—

In order to get more benefits, these fans will have a high adherence to the events organized by these social activists. The more people who participate, the more it means that the influence of these social activists is huge.

Their influence is huge, so they can get more opportunities, better opportunities. Those employers who need them will also not be stingy with their wealth, allowing their followers to get more benefits.

This is a continuously circulating process.

One of the social activists with blonde hair, who was waving his fist and shouting slogans, after he had shouted his slogan, asked another social activist next to him, whom he knew, "How much money did they give you?"

Generally, a demonstration or parade of this scale and theme would cost at least seven or eight thousand.

The person he had asked had a good relationship with him. The two often organized all kinds of parades and demonstrations together, and could be considered friends.

His friend had a smile on his face. "This client is very generous. They gave me twelve thousand."

In fact, it was fifteen thousand. He had said three thousand less, to avoid his friend's jealousy.

He hadn't taken such a big order for many years. Fifteen thousand was enough for him to go without work for two years and still maintain his dignity. So he didn't care at all who the client was behind the scenes, and why they wanted to push this anti-war parade.

Anyway, it happens every year, and more than once. He didn't think this was a problem. Moreover, there were indeed some people in society now who were a little disgusted with the war.

The blonde social activist, after listening, had a faint smile on his face. "You also got twelve thousand?"

"What a coincidence, me too."

In fact, the quote he had received was also fifteen thousand. He also did not say the true figure. From his perspective, to tell the other party how much he could get, while holding back a little, was an important means of maintaining the relationship.

But as he spoke, he asked again, "I hear that the client behind this is a foreigner, Dantra people. They want to use this method to pressure the federal government."

The others had also noticed their conversation and had joined in.

A woman in fashionable clothing, in her late thirties, said casually, "I don't really care about that. As long as they give money, I don't care what they need me to do for them."

"People are dying in large numbers in the war, and we have no reason to participate in such a war."

"The federal government, for the sake of their own ambition and desire, is making our soldiers fight in a land far from home, and even die there. Everything should stop!"

It was clear that this female social activist had done a little preparation after taking the job. The words she had said were enough to move some of her followers, and to continuously support her.

Another person said, "I hear they have a few more events at the end of this month. The last day of this year, and the first day of next year."

This person was clearly well-informed. There were also some who didn't know about these, so they couldn't help but ask him to elaborate.

The social activist who had revealed this news had a somewhat show-off smile on his face. Then he talked about what he knew.

"For the event on the last day, they want to create some destructive things, so the money they are giving this time will be much more than what they are giving us now."

"I hear it will be about thirty to forty thousand, per person!"

When they had heard this number, everyone had shown a look of surprise, and at the same time, they had quickly become a little agitated.

Thirty or forty thousand. This was the largest job opportunity they had ever come into contact with. It was impossible for them to give this up.

However, some were a little worried. "The destruction they want means..."

The person had lowered his voice. "What else could it be? Only smashing, looting, and burning can cause public attention. They want this."

"To flip over some cars parked on the roadside, or to set fire to some garbage piles, or to do something else."

"They hope that more people can pay attention to this matter, to the anti-war issue. If you want to follow up on the specifics, they will tell you then."

This was no longer a parade. It was a chaotic demonstration, a demonstration that was aggressive, and would harm others or plunder other people's wealth. It was a vicious act, which was why they were paying so much.

However, it was clear that they were not interested in the consequences that would be caused. They were only discussing whether they could get this order.

In the words of the blonde social activist, even if they didn't do it, someone else would.

Rather than letting others do it, it was better to do it themselves.

At this moment, they didn't care at all if the employer was a hostile foreign force, nor did they care if what they were doing would cause turmoil in the federal society. This was the biggest drawback of a capitalized society—

Money, wealth, overrides morality!

Just as they were talking and exchanging some of the things in the industry, for example, the boss of a certain enterprise had encountered trouble, and wanted to spend money to find some people to help him spread rumors.

The opportunities for this kind of exchange were not many. Everyone seemed very relaxed, in consideration of the fifteen thousand.

Just as the group was passing a crossroads, the lady in the team had suddenly widened her eyes and had looked to her left, and then had stood there in a daze.

The others had looked at her with some curiosity. Before they had had time to turn their heads to look to the left, it was as if a gust of wind had blown past.

The next second, a truck sped past, just like a bowling ball that was smashing everything in its way. And the people who were blocking the path were the pins that were being knocked over.

The onlookers around, and also the participants of the parade, seemed to have all been put on pause at this moment.

The truck, which had clearly lost control, had left a few lines of fresh red tire marks, and then had rammed into a phone booth on the side of the road.

The phone booth, after suffering a fierce collision, had not toppled, but had been knocked crooked. The quality of the phone booth was good, and the construction strength was also good. The large truck had also, because of this, been forced to stop.

It wasn't until this moment, amid the piercing screams of a lady passerby, that the pause seemed to have been lifted. People had frantically begun to flee. Some had also rushed over to check the casualties.

Some were calling the police, some were calling for an ambulance, and some were spinning around in place, at a loss of what to do.

The entire street had, in an instant, fallen into chaos. The bodies lying everywhere, the bloodstains on the ground, the tire marks, were silently narrating the terrible incident that had just happened to the people around!

Lance, seeing this, had thrown the small, half-smoked cigarette out of the car window, and had then patted the back of the driver's seat, and had said, "Go back."

The convoy had quickly made a U-turn and had left this place.

On the way back, he had heard the sirens of the police car, the ambulance, and even the fire truck. This was definitely a serious traffic accident!

A little later, the police department had disclosed the losses caused by this car accident. Seven people had died on the spot, and four more had lost their breath on the way to the hospital. In addition, there were more than ten who were injured.

The entire crossroads was completely blocked by the police and the ambulances...

...

Senator Porter was sitting on the sofa, chatting with a few visitors about the things that had recently happened in Congress. As one of the representatives of the anti-war stance, he was actually the same as those social activists on the street.

He, more than anyone else, knew the benefits of war, but this had nothing to do with him. He could not, like the other senators, directly gain any benefits from the war. On the contrary, being anti-war could bring him more social attention and some sponsorships.

Then how to do it, it seemed, was no longer something that needed much thought.

This was actually a very interesting thing. It seemed that there would always be some rulers who, when they were about to leave the stage of their rule, would do some stupid things that made people feel very hard to believe.

These stupid things were terribly stupid, but they still did them, as if they had suddenly lost their ability to think.

In fact, this situation was not strange. When they could only choose to become stupid, to get the benefits they wanted, they could only act extremely stupid.

In addition, the time they could remain on the stage was not much left. They also had no mind and no opportunity to seek a better solution.

To make a big haul before leaving was what they wanted to do.

"Mr. Porter, Mr. Green hopes that you can continue to expand the anti-war momentum. We need more people to listen to your voice, to let them think, and to see the pain that the war has brought to people."

"To let the people, and let society, all reflect, reflect on whether there is a need for this war to continue."

The person who was talking to him took out a thick file bag from his briefcase, placed it on the desk, and then pushed it over.

Mr. Porter glanced at the file bag on the desk, and then looked at the other party. The other party made a gesture for him to open it and have a look.

He sat there and considered for a moment, for about two or three minutes. He then very decisively picked up the file bag, and opened the "lock" that was tied with a string.

It wasn't money, which had disappointed Mr. Porter. It was all documents.

He took out these documents, unfolded them, and glanced at them. The more he looked, the more serious his expression became. He took out his reading glasses and put them on, and began to seriously read the few reports in his hand.

These were all military reports from Dantra, early military reports. In them, it mentioned the results of every battle with the Federation, all of which were "great victories."

Among them, there was no lack of huge victories like "annihilating 30,000 to 50,000" of the enemy. And these were all things that Mr. Porter was unaware of.

Or rather, some people were certainly aware, but he was not. Because he had already left the core part of Congress, and those people would not necessarily let him know some of the news.

Seeing these reports and the numbers on them, he also sucked in a breath of cold air.

It seemed that he was satisfied with Mr. Porter's performance at this time. The "contact person" who was sitting opposite him had an uncomfortable smile on his face. "According to incomplete statistics, the Federation has, in this war, lost more than 700,000 troops."

"Do you know what this means?"

Mr. Porter took off his glasses. He nodded. "It means that we have at least suffered a huge defeat, and have caused unimaginable losses!"

He couldn't help but pick up one of the military reports again. In it, it mentioned that in one battle, about 40,000 federal soldiers were annihilated.

40,000 young children had forever remained on that land, but Congress, the Department of Defense, had never said anything about this.

He was not very concerned about the domestic news in the Federation, but he vaguely had some impression that the most tragic war they had reported, the number of deaths was only 6,000.

And this was the most tragic. The number of deaths in the usual battles might only be a few hundred, one or two thousand. This was the limit of the usual.

Now it seemed that they were lying, and had been lying all along. And why they were lying, he was also very clear.

If the federal public knew that the Federation was, at the beginning of this war, in a clearly disadvantaged position, the anti-war sentiment among the people would not need anyone to promote it. The people themselves would stand up and oppose the war first.

It was precisely their hiding of these truths that had made people think that the losses were not tragic. Only after comparing it with what they had gained from the war, had they accepted this war.

"You mean, you want me to disclose these data?" Mr. Porter's expression was still very grave.

Before the other party could nod or agree with his view, he shook his head and said, "This is very difficult to do. These data and intelligence are too sensitive. In the entire Federation, the people who are qualified to know these data are probably less than ten, twenty."

"I am already a fringe figure in Congress now. I am not qualified to touch these data and intelligence. Even if I disclose it, it may not achieve the effect you want."

"They can say that all this is fabricated, and has no factual basis. After all, the Department of Defense and the military are on their side."

"And they will tear me apart!"

This kind of intelligence that only the "enemy" could get, how did Mr. Porter get it?

He simply couldn't explain. Even if he could, and told the truth, there would be no good result. A treason or collusion with the enemy was definitely unavoidable.

As a politician, although he was about to leave the political arena, it didn't mean that he was about to die.

With his current wealth and status, he could at least live for another ten or more years without any problem.

He didn't want to court death so early, so he had refused this proposal.

The contact person sitting opposite him did not give up. "Mr. Porter, you are actually mistaken about one thing."

"You don't need to personally disclose this. You just need to hand over some of the materials that are not so exaggerated to someone who can disclose it, for example, a certain reporter."

"Then let society, let public opinion, question the authenticity of the data released by the Federation. Then find a way to spread these materials. Wouldn't that achieve our purpose?"

He said as he placed a check on the table, and pushed it over. A long string of zeros on it. "If you are willing to cooperate with us, this is the reward for this time."

Looking at that long string of zeros, Mr. Porter was slightly tempted.

And at this very moment, the phone on the desk suddenly rang abruptly, which startled him...