hotmtlnovel Chapter 4329 Body of Steel (34)
Chapter 4329 Body of Steel (34)
Chapter 4329 Body of Steel (Thirty-Four)
"Hmm... the test results are fine," the doctor told Clark. "This special powder in your blood does have some effect on you, but it seems that antibodies are already being generated."
"Antibody?"
"That's right. This stuff isn't poison. It's probably some kind of element that exists naturally in the universe. You're just allergic to it. If you come into contact with a small amount, you'll just feel uncomfortable, but it won't be fatal."
"So it doesn't have any other uses?" Clark asked. "Like, it can strengthen my body..."
"We haven't seen any results yet. It could be because you haven't been exposed to it for very long, or it could be that your body has already been strengthened to the limit that the Earth's environment can tolerate, so the subsequent improvements may not be very obvious. However, I still suggest that you continue to do desensitization training to prevent others from using this thing against you."
Clark instinctively said, "Who would be so bad?"
But he quickly thought of Schiller and said, "Okay, I really should desensitize myself as soon as possible. What do I need to do?"
"First, I need to get some powder from this gem to make a potion or drink. Second, you need to continue wearing this gem to get used to the radiation it emits. Finally, you need to exercise more these next few days to speed up your metabolism and produce antibodies faster."
Clark nodded and said, "Okay, I'll go for a run tomorrow."
"By the way, don't go back to the metropolis yet. Once I've prepared the medicine, I might need to inject it regularly. If you go back, it will be difficult to send it over."
Clark agreed. He understood that he was essentially abusing his power. After all, the gem wasn't his property, yet it was being used for his desensitization training. It was best to keep this quiet and not let it get out of Los Angeles.
Fortunately, the federal government was very generous, covering all his hotel and living expenses. However, he also needs to give a couple of speeches here and do some publicity.
After leaving the lab, the sun shone brightly outside, palm trees swayed in the blue sky, and the glass facades of buildings gleamed. Remembering his doctor's advice, Clark decided to run two laps around Los Angeles.
He had been to Los Angeles before, but mostly for business trips, only able to glance at it briefly and never getting a close look at the city's streetscape.
The mild climate here made him feel very comfortable; the warm sun on his skin lessened his discomfort considerably. The main roads of Los Angeles were fairly wide, with good greenery, and it wasn't as crowded and busy as a metropolis. Clark ran and sightseeed, getting more and more energetic as he went.
Clark had been flying from noon until sunset, and he had no idea where he was. He had thought about finding a corner to take off, but then he remembered that the hotel dinner was not good, and that the federal government was reimbursing his room and board, so he decided to go to a restaurant instead.
He wandered around, asked for directions several times, and finally found a place with a lot of restaurants. He picked one that looked decent, sat down, and was about to order.
This was a Chinese restaurant, and the waiters weren't very friendly, but Clark didn't mind. He ordered a plate of fried noodles, a plate of pork of unknown flavor, and a bowl of soup.
Unsurprisingly, the food was served slowly, and it seemed there was only one chef in the kitchen. Clark waited for ages and was getting a little impatient, but he was too embarrassed to urge them. Bored, he started listening to what was happening next door.
He heard two people with Mexican accents talking.
"You know what, it's pretty good. You only need to work 10 hours a day and you can earn more than 1000 yuan a month, while cucumbers only cost two yuan."
"Indeed, this job isn't difficult at all, much easier than training. Just standing here and moving your hands isn't even as strenuous as a warm-up."
"Unfortunately, the boss said we were too strong and wouldn't let us serve the food. I heard that you get tips for serving food, and you can earn 2000 yuan."
"It's okay. Once we figure out the language, we'll switch to another company. It'll definitely be better than this one."
"By the way, are you still feeling a little unwell? Why don't we go to the hospital to get it checked out?"
"Are you crazy? What can a hospital here possibly diagnose? Besides, we're both undocumented; if we go to the hospital, we'll get arrested!"
"That's true. It's alright, we might get a day off in a couple of days, we can go buy some medicine..."
Clark had mixed feelings about the meal. The portions weren't actually that large, but he couldn't finish it all. After he finished, he gave the waiter a tip, then went to the counter and chatted with the owner who was cooking in the kitchen.
“…That’s how it is.” The boss’s English still had a slight accent. He said, “These illegal workers have no legal status and no education, and we still have to provide them with food and lodging. They say they work ten hours a day, but there aren’t that many customers. The most tiring hours are only three or four. Don’t be fooled by the fact that they only earn a little over 1000 a month. When they send it back home, it’s a huge sum of money.”
"And another thing, this meal you ate only cost 10 yuan. If it weren't for them helping to wash the dishes, I would have hired one of those lazy locals who cost two or three thousand yuan, and this meal would have cost you at least 30 yuan. Without immigrants helping to work, you lot would all starve to death."
Clark sighed deeply. Kansas is a stronghold of native rednecks, and they are very hostile to illegal immigrants; they don't even welcome people from other places. Clark used to wonder why people would choose to come to another country instead of staying in their own.
But after reading books and broadening his horizons, especially after becoming a journalist, he realized that many things cannot be explained in a few words, and that morality and justice cannot put food on the table.
From a moral standpoint, it's true that you shouldn't smuggle people in, but they just can't survive in their local area. If they don't come here illegally to work, their whole family will starve to death. What can you do?
As the boss said, working 10 hours a day here earns $1000 a month, which translates to tens of thousands of dollars in their local currency. Back home, earning even 1000 local dollars would be difficult, so of course they'd choose to come here.
Of course, there are definitely people who are perfectly fine at home but are tricked into coming here. However, these people are inherently lazy and generally can't do this kind of illegal work. Those who can wash dishes in the restaurant kitchen are mostly hardworking, low-income people.
Clark felt this issue was worth discussing. He also knew that the media had always talked about immigration, but these people were just engaging in pointless debates, hurling insults at each other, without anyone actually visiting the grassroots level.
Just like that Egyptian artifact called the "Serpent of Phryne," when ancient Egyptian civilization is mentioned, everyone praises it, but when asked if this artifact actually exists, no one knows, and no one has ever personally gone to the British Museum to see it.
Previously, Clark had wanted to write a sensational report, break away from the newspaper, and become an independent journalist like Louise, so that he could have a voice in the industry and defend his and the public's interests with public opinion when necessary.
Could illegal immigration be a good thing?
Clark didn't expect reporting on the lives of impoverished immigrants to evoke public sympathy, but it was a highly topical subject. Even if more people criticized him, he wasn't afraid. Other journalists might worry about retaliation from extremist groups, but Clark was worried that those extremists wouldn't retaliate.
Without further ado, Clark first jotted down what the shop owner had said. It was getting dark, so he crouched down on the street, waiting for each restaurant's delivery truck to arrive before sneaking into the back door of the shop. He knew that these illegal workers were the ones unloading the goods when the restaurants were taking inventory, and he figured he might run into one or two of them.
He crept furtively to the street corner, and sure enough, people soon came out. He rushed to the car door first, pretending to be there to unload goods as well. Since it was dark and no one could see what he looked like, he chatted with these people as he unloaded the goods.
Most of them were from Mexico, since the two countries are very close, and at that time, border controls in the US-Mexico region were not strict, even becoming an industry. The process was basically to come over, be detained in an immigration jail for two days, and then be released. Those with relatives or friends would go to stay with them, and those without would be taken to Los Angeles to work illegally.
Just as Clark knew, these people were incredibly efficient. When they were moving goods, those cases of drinks were stacked up to half a person's height, and they carried them away, one trip after another, without stopping.
Clark helped them move the goods, explaining that he was new and wanted to show off. He even bought a few iced drinks out of his own pocket. After they finished moving the goods, they had a short break, so they chatted on the street corner, and Clark successfully blended in. However, each of these people's stories was more heartbreaking than the last.
Some say their youngest daughter died in a gunfight, some say their wife went missing while working away from home, some say their relatives and friends starved to death on the streets after coming to America, and some say they went to try drugs and never returned. In short, any of these stories could be considered a record of cannibalism in modern society.
Clark sighed as he listened. Back in Kansas, although it was relatively isolated and underdeveloped, being a local meant it wasn't difficult to make a living, and the people were quite kind and honest.
When he arrived, he already had a lot of work experience, and all of them were pretty good jobs, so finding work was relatively easy. His job at Planet Daily was especially glamorous. He had never met many people from the lower classes in big cities, and he never expected it to be like this.
Clark grew increasingly distressed as he listened, eager to return and write it all down. But just as he was about to leave, he saw a tall figure carrying two cases of drinks heading towards the kitchen.
Humans can't see clearly at night, but he's different. He can see directly the internal organs and bones of the human body, and then he discovers that the internal structure of this giant seems to be quite different from that of humans.
"Wait a minute," Clark thought of what he had said to Diana during the day, "Could this be an alien expert hiding among ordinary humans incognito???"
Clark followed him to the back kitchen of the restaurant and then discovered that he was one of the two people who had spoken during the day.
No way, this alien is really in a bad situation. He's still a baby and he's already mediating between three forces. How did he end up working as an illegal laborer in a restaurant kitchen?
Did he arrive later than me?
Clark thought about it and realized that although he wasn't exactly a big shot now, he had at least made a name for himself, and he happened to have some free time lately. Besides writing reports, it wouldn't hurt to help these two unfortunate aliens out of the ordinary.
After thinking for a moment, he took out his business card and wrote on it: "Looking for employees, excellent benefits, negotiable, contact number..."
(End of this chapter)