Invasion of America

Chapter 38 Entrepreneurship
The weather was sunny and there was a gentle breeze.

'Gray Shark' sat in a wheelchair and was pushed out of his basement by a caregiver. He walked slowly in the small park next to the apartment, looking at the green grass on the ground and smelling the freshness of the rain and dew.

Aunt Nasha sat down on the bench, her eyes following her son's figure. There was a relieved smile on her face, but her heart was full of sadness.

As a polio patient, Gray Shark's upbringing was destined to be different from that of ordinary children. Confined to a wheelchair, he lacked many of the joys that ordinary people take for granted.

Sensitive, introverted, and timid.

After puberty, he almost stopped contacting the outside world and completely closed himself off in the small world of the basement.

Gray Shark has become a powerful figure in the virtual world and has dominated the Internet. All of this is inseparable from the support and encouragement of his mother.

In reality, he is still lonely and closed.

Only late at night, when the streets were empty, would he, at his mother's request, quietly take a brief walk around the apartment and then hurried back underground.

Occasionally when he met strangers, he would stutter and couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

Aunt Nasha has dedicated most of her life to caring for him. She has no regrets about being a mother, but as she ages, she is increasingly unable to do so.

Aunt Nasha was in a particularly good mood today because Gray Shark finally decided to come out of the basement and into the sunlight.

"Mom, I'm sorry." Gray Shark was pushed back by the nurse. He grabbed his mother's hand apologetically and said, "I only thought about myself in the past and never thought about your feelings."

Aunt Nasha burst into tears and hugged her son tightly.
-
To the neighborhood caregiver, the mother and son have always been called "weirdos" by their neighbors.

When she was young, Aunt Nasha was also a beautiful woman in her prime, with many suitors. Unfortunately, she was overwhelmed by the choices and chose an irresponsible and scumbag man.

After the child was born, the man disappeared without a trace and was never seen again.

From then on, Aunt Nasha's life lost its luster. She became taciturn and rarely interacted with her neighbors.

When her son was diagnosed with polio, her life became even worse and she fell into endless distress.

According to the recollections of the elderly people in the neighborhood, Porter would use a wheelchair to move around before he was a teenager, and occasionally a few innocent smiles would appear on his face.

Since some day, he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth and never appeared in people's sight again.

Whenever someone asked, Aunt Nasha would always explain with a wry smile: "My son is not dead, he just got used to staying in the basement."

Over time, the neighbors forgot about the child's existence.

Today, the mother and son who have lived in the neighborhood for more than 30 years are finally moving.

Two moving trucks were parked outside the apartment, and neighbors were surprised to find that the boy named Porter had hoarded piles of electronic equipment in the basement.

Professional routers, high-end servers, large-capacity storage, high-frequency radios, seven or eight large-screen monitors, and hundreds of scrapped hard drives were dumped into the trash can.

The equipment filled the entire basement, like a secret underground fortress. Just to clean it out, it took an entire truck and three or four professional workers.

After circling the small park, 'Gray Shark' hurried back, keeping a close eye on the porter's every move.

Although most of the data and information are backed up in the cloud, he is still worried about any mishaps that might occur to these precious devices during transportation.

The new home was chosen in the suburbs of Miami - as long as you leave the bustling city, there is vacant land everywhere in Florida.

'Gray Shark' is actually very smart and quick-witted. Following Zhou Qingfeng's 'reminder', he bought a sturdy villa with a large basement for his own use.

In the past, he felt insecure, always worried about being discriminated against and frustrated. But after Zhou Qingfeng revealed his identity, he was forced to let go of his burdens.

This guy is also a man of action, with first-rate learning and decision-making abilities. Not only did he move house, he contacted a driving school to learn how to drive, and he even planned to get into guns.

After more than a decade of operating in the "gray industry," Gray Shark has accumulated a considerable amount of money. Once this money is spent, it is quite staggering.

Aunt Nasha knew that her son could make money, but he had been extremely hostile to outsiders in the past, so she had to take care of him herself.

Now, everything is easy if we hire someone to do the work.

"Potter, what kind of magic did your friend use? How could he change your mind like this?" The old lady was also very curious.

Gray Shark asked seriously, "Mom, what do you think the probability is for someone to win the $1.5 billion lottery jackpot?"

Aunt Nasha showed a surprised expression, "One hundred and fifty million dollars? I can't imagine it."

"What if that person didn't just win the lottery, but stole a lottery ticket worth $1.5 billion from a brawl? Not only did he not receive any punishment, but he also kept the money safely for himself?"

The aunt was even more confused.

"That guy had been in the US for less than half a year, and I had never met him before. But on our first phone call, he actually knew who I was and told me many of my secrets.

I've lived on this street for over 30 years, and no more than five people know I exist. How come someone knows me so well?

The auntie no longer understood.

"I thought about it for a long time and made many speculations, but I only came to one conclusion."

Gray Shark said with certainty, "That kid is from the future, and I must be very important in the future."

The auntie understood now and touched her son's head.
"Potter, have you been watching 'Terminator' too many times? I knew staying in the basement for too long would take its toll on your spirit."

"Mom, I'm serious." Gray Shark felt the pain of not being understood.
-
At this time, Zhou Qingfeng was sitting in the office, pretending to "work".

Although he knew nothing about business, it did not prevent him from seriously reviewing the pile of job resumes on his desk.

These are the elite resumes that Kelly collected from major investment banks and technology companies.

A few days ago, he casually mentioned to Kelly the idea of ​​"developing the low-altitude economy."

The reason is simple: after the outbreak of the apocalypse, industrial production was paralyzed, fossil fuels became extremely scarce, and ground transportation was in chaos and full of dangers.

In this case, electric low-altitude aircraft that rely on solar power for charging become the most ideal choice - they are simple, rugged, reliable, low-maintenance and widely used.

Both China and the United States are actively promoting this field, and many major cities in the United States have begun pilot operations.

As an investment banking elite, Kelly had long been focused on this area. Since no breakthroughs could be made in the biochemical field, she decisively turned her attention to the low-altitude economy.

As a result, Zhou Qingfeng's desk was piled with various resumes, each of which was bright and beautiful, as if showing him the talent pool of the great America.

After watching for only half an hour, he felt dizzy.

So they simply set up a series of screening criteria: "LGBT, no; South Asian, no; vegetarian, no;

Those who like cats and dogs, no; those who are feminists, no; those without a science and engineering background, no..."

After all these operations, hundreds of resumes were eliminated.

He helplessly flipped back through his resume, sifted through it a few times, and sighed in frustration: "Why can't America find any talented people?"

Kelly sat opposite him and glanced at him coldly: “Victor, if I recorded what you just said and posted it online, do you know how much trouble it would cause?

Thousands of people will call you sexist, racist, or disciplinary, and may even sue you.”

"I don't care." Zhou Qingfeng was unconvinced and muttered in a low voice: "When a country is about to perish, there will be evildoers."

He simply threw away his resume and picked up an industry development report instead, but after reading two pages, he became even angrier.

"Kelly, what does it mean that these domestically produced low-altitude aircraft are priced at $2.4 million each? Why are they so expensive?"

Isn’t that thing just a few motors with a cockpit?
Electric motors are incredibly mature technology, the cockpit is even more basic, and the flight control software can't be that expensive; at most, the batteries are a bit more expensive. Putting these together, does that make the price uncontrollable?

Zhou Qingfeng recalled the low-altitude aircraft he took in the apocalypse. It was a simple large toy built in a garage, but it became the most reliable means of transportation in the chaotic era.

He also checked online for quotes on similar products from his home country. He just had to convert US dollars into RMB, and the prices were almost not on the same order of magnitude.

Kelly sighed, "Victor, this is America. Aside from a few cutting-edge industries, we don't have the low cost to manufacture mid-range and low-end products."

"Then we'll import them. We'll start with 100, half of them pure electric and half hybrid."

Ever since he realized that he couldn't prevent the end of the world, Zhou Qingfeng had become somewhat self-destructive, thinking that the more than one billion dollars in his hands would be wasted if he didn't spend them.

"So many?" Kelly was surprised. "Most startups buy a few for testing at most. Besides, have you considered the application scenarios?"

Zhou Qingfeng thought to himself, "Once the apocalypse breaks out, you'll realize that a hundred planes simply aren't enough."

He said, "The more we purchase, the lower the unit price. Suppliers can also provide us with better service."

As for the application scenarios, let’s use it to deliver express first.

For example, delivering goods to the islands and beaches around Miami, although the volume is small, it is definitely faster than using a car and cheaper than using a helicopter."

South of Miami lies a string of islands that belong to Monroe County, Florida.

Due to the beautiful scenery, there are a large number of high-end holiday villas on these islands. The people who live there are either rich or noble and have strong spending power.

When Zhou Qingfeng was thinking about the doomsday shelter, he thought about settling his home on an island with complete supporting facilities so that he could survive longer.

The advantage of living on an island is that you are isolated from the outside world, but the disadvantage is that if something happens, there is nowhere to escape. However, if there is a convenient low-altitude aircraft, the situation will be greatly improved.

Kelly considered the thousands of high-spending users on the island and felt that this project was not impossible to try - at least it was much simpler than biochemical pharmaceuticals.

"Victor, you need to find a dedicated project manager. I can't do it alone." Kelly pointed at the hundreds of resumes. "Isn't there any one here that satisfies you?"

Zhou Qingfeng thought for a moment and asked, "When will William Congers be able to come out?"

More than a month has passed since the Baitan Town case, and the public opinion has gradually subsided. Because... there are no victims, no controversy!

Old man Hammer's evil plan was really effective. Faced with the thirty-seven remains dug out from the ground, few people expressed sympathy for the evil Chris family.

Initially, because Congers had killed so many people, the district attorney was worried about being blamed and refused to allow his lawyer to release him on bail.

Now, more than a month has passed, and public opinion is overwhelmingly in favor of Congers, so the district attorney is less pressured to grant bail.

Kelly's eyes lit up. "Yes, Congers definitely can't return to the police station. But with his ability and popularity, he's more than qualified to be a project manager."

Congers has been a policeman for more than ten years. He has handled hundreds of cases and arrested a large number of criminals. He did not frown even in the face of bullets and gunfire. He is not just a reckless man.

They are fierce, smart, tenacious, responsible, decisive, and conscientious. Startups need this kind of person to take charge.

"I'll talk to Old Baker and think of a solution. At worst, I'll just have to pay a little more for bail. I think we can get him out."

Kelly decided to use her connections to solve the problem. She casually mentioned, "That guy named Morris is here, and he wants to thank you in person for your help."
-
At the same time, old man Hammer quietly appeared in Philadelphia, USA with 30 million US dollars - the "old revolutionary city" only 200 kilometers away from the capital Washington.

This is the birthplace of American independence. There are many old buildings in the city, and the weight of history permeates every brick and stone.

When Hammer steps into the city, its image is completely changed.

The old man who was half buried in the ground and waiting to die silently is gone, replaced by an old-fashioned elite in a suit and tie, looking radiant.

The only thing that remains unchanged is the mobile phone he holds tightly in his hand, the screen showing every detail recorded since he left the nursing home.

"It turns out I have memory loss from time to time," Hammer muttered to himself, his brow furrowed. He flipped through the records on his phone, piecing together his experiences since leaving the nursing home.

"I worked as a part-time worker for a while and met a silly guy named Victor."

"I actually got $30 million from Victor? Is that guy a fool? To give me so much?"

The most crucial question left the old man confused: "Why did I leave the nursing home?"

He searched his phone but couldn't find any relevant records. This matter was too important and too private to be recorded on his phone.

Next to the old man was a fierce-looking man, who was the one who drove to pick him up that day and saluted Zhou Qingfeng.

Seeing Hammer's bewildered expression, the man whispered a reminder: "The tree of liberty must be constantly watered with the blood of patriots and tyrants."

"Ah... the blood of patriots and tyrants." Hammer murmured repeatedly. This sentence was a key that instantly opened his closed memory.

His expression became solemn, his eyes firm, "I know why I came here.

Let's go and meet our fellow members of the Foundation. I hope their passion remains as strong as ever, their perseverance remains as strong, their faith in God remains as strong as ever, and their belief in justice remains as strong as ever."

The two drove to a nondescript coffee shop in the city. On the second floor of the coffee shop, several members of the Patriot Foundation had been waiting for a long time.

Among these people, some were gray-haired, some were over fifty years old, and some were in their prime. When they saw Hammer appear, they all stood up, their eyes full of respect.

The organizer of this meeting stepped forward and said in an enthusiastic tone: "Come on, everyone, welcome Hammer Lee.

He raised $30 million in one go for this operation, completely solving the problem of lack of funds for the operation."

It was broad daylight, but the windows of the small gathering room were closed, and the only old-fashioned chandelier swayed overhead, casting dim light and shadows.

There were several transportation maps of Washington on the wall, piles of books and documents marked "Top Secret" in the corner, and a faint smell of coffee in the air.

In the middle of the room stood a simple wooden table, with a few chairs squeezed around it. Scattered on the table were several cups of cold coffee and a few handwritten plans.

Although the room was simply furnished, it was filled with the secretive atmosphere of a small organization's private gathering, and every inch of space was filled with unfinished plots and silent vows.

Amidst cheers, Hammer walked into the room with a calm and confident smile on his face.

He nodded repeatedly to everyone, his eyes scanning every expectant face, confirming the loyalty and enthusiasm of his companions.

However, as he clicked on the light, the old man's mind began to become confused again.

The clear faces gradually twisted and rotated, as if pulled by an invisible force, becoming blurred and unfamiliar.

The surrounding environment also began to shake, the walls seemed to be melting, the floor seemed to be tilting, and even the aroma of coffee floating in the air became pungent and uncomfortable.

The words of the crowd rang in his ears, but they seemed to come from a distant place, obscure and difficult to understand, as if they were a language he had never heard before.

He concentrated hard, tried to catch the drifting words, but they slipped through his fingers like sand, irretrievable.

His smile gradually stiffened and his eyes became empty, as if his soul had been pulled out of his body, leaving only a useless shell maintaining superficial composure.

"Hammer, are you okay?" someone asked with concern. The voice echoed in his ears but could not penetrate his confused thoughts.

He opened his mouth, wanting to answer, but found that he couldn't even form the simplest words.

The only thing left in the old man's mind was a name he had repeated over and over again: "Victor... Where is Victor? My name is Hammer, and I'm his part-time worker."

"Who is Victor? Is he the secret hunter you recruited for this plan?" Seeing the old man confused, his companions from the 'Patriot Foundation' became anxious.

"Hammer, the 'decapitation' operation has already begun. You are one of the planners of the operation. You can't have a seizure at this time, right?!"

(End of this chapter)