Life Dungeon Game

When the last tentacle exploded, Heo closed the wooden box.

The consciousness that had tried to awaken fell back into slumber, and the illusory limbs on the ground gradually dissipated.

He Ao turned off his super memory and looked out the master bedroom window. The bright moonlight shone on the quiet floor and the old bed.

In the hazy light, it seemed as if a somewhat haggard man was sitting on the edge of the bed reading a book. He turned around, looked at He Ao standing at the door, and gave him a gentle smile.

His figure slowly faded and eventually disappeared completely.

It seemed to be an overlap of time and memory, or perhaps the obsession that person left behind in this world.

He Ao turned around and glanced once more at the familiar yet unfamiliar room.

He put the wooden box and bone axe back into the cloth cover, turned on the lamp, and the bright light dispelled the darkness.

He Ao went into the bathroom, took out cleaning tools, and quietly and carefully cleaned the house.

His bracelet vibrated; it was a message from Hai Xi.

Chapter 573 Conglomerates and Congressmen (Happy New Year's Eve/Long Chapter, Please Vote!)

Night had fallen, but the bustling commercial district remained brightly lit.

The bright moon appeared dim and lackluster under the artificial light.

As the taxi passed the entrance to the secluded bar, He Ao could faintly hear the rhythmic music playing inside.

The night in Vicland is a blend of noise and tranquility.

A bustling commercial district, entertainment venues that never sleep, and vibrant music create an atmosphere where people are immersed in what seems like an eternal clamor.

On the other side, there are office buildings lit up all night, factory machines that rumble and never stop, weary crowds coming and going, and the deathly quiet residential area of ​​Plante District.

Some of the large screens outside the mall were showing Ned's campaign ads, while others were showing the evening news.

The crowd flowed like ants beneath the magnificent human-made structures.

"There are only three days left until the midterm elections," said the slightly overweight, heavily accented host in a baggy suit, sitting at the front of the studio.

"To be precise, aside from today and the official election on March 1, the candidates only have two days left to prepare for the midterm elections: tomorrow and the day after."

He raised his hand, and a chart appeared in the upper left corner of the screen: "In this midterm election, all members of the House of Representatives will be re-elected, and one-third of the members of the Senate will be re-elected. One of the Senate seats in our city of Westland is among the seats up for re-election."

"We analyzed the representatives in the last episode, and today we'll analyze the senators."

"Senators and representatives are very different. According to the federal constitution, representatives serve only two-year terms, while senators serve six-year terms. The longer term means that they can have more influence on the federal legislature and push for more bills."

"The senator is also one of the positions most likely to lead to the presidency."

A new photo appeared on the chart; it was a seemingly mild-mannered and confident man in a suit—it was Ned.

"According to current surveys, incumbent Senator Ned is the most popular candidate in this election, with an approval rating of around 30%, making him the candidate with the highest approval rating at present."

“Nide is an old-school federal senator who has pushed through many laws that have benefited the entire federal government during his term. He has served as a senator for twelve years.”

"His uncle was also a senator in Wrightland, and his maternal grandfather was a vice president of the Union. The whole family has a great deal of influence in the Union and can effectively use their influence to push the Union to pass bills that are favorable to Wrightland."

"During this campaign, he declared that if re-elected, he would push for federal aid for homeless children, propose legislation to protect workers, and push for tax cuts,"

The host turned off Ned's photo. "Currently, it is very likely that Ned will be successfully re-elected as a senator. Apart from Ned, the other candidates do not have high support rates in the polls. DeSantis, who is ranked second, has less than 13% support, and the others have not even exceeded 10%."

"And this DeSanker is a new candidate; this is his first time running for senator, and he's only thirty-seven years old," according to...

According to him, he worked as a laborer in Plant's industrial area for a period of time before going to university and becoming a lawyer.

"He made many campaign promises that benefited workers, so he received more support in Plant District and the southern Ernst District, two areas with large numbers of workers."

"However, because he had no prior governing experience, had never served as a city councilor, and did not come from a good family background, even his supporters expressed little faith in his governing abilities..."

He Ao stared at the screen in the shopping mall that was broadcasting the late-night news. The screen was silent and far from the ground, so viewers could only understand the host's words by reading the subtitles on the screen.

As he stared at the screen, the taxi driver in front of him also glanced at it, but quickly looked away and continued driving without a care.

Looking at the driver's calm expression through the rearview mirror, He Ao said slowly, "It seems that many people are concerned about the midterm elections lately."

"That's how elections are all."

The driver rested his hands on the steering wheel, gazing at the road stretching into the darkness. "After all, it's only at times like this that we seem to matter," he thought.

"Senator, do you have anyone you want to vote for?"

He leaned back in his chair and asked softly.

"No, I haven't voted in years,"

The driver shrugged, patted the steering wheel, and sighed. "When I was young, I always thought I could choose an excellent leader. Later, I gradually realized that it didn't matter who I chose; my life didn't change. So I got too lazy to choose anymore. Anyway, the final result is the same."

“These candidates all stood up straight and acted very capable and reliable, as if they had been chosen by God to become a member of parliament or mayor. But God never chooses people; they are chosen, only by corporations.”

The driver turned the steering wheel and steered the taxi to the right. "When it comes to running for office, it's not really about how capable or talented you are, but about how well-known you are, whether you have money, and whether you can afford the cost of advertising."

The driver glanced at Ned's poster outside the window, nodded, and said, "Look, that's the richest guy running for senator this time."

He leaned back in the driver's seat as the car sped along under the neon lights.

"But where does this money come from? Federal law says that candidates can be funded through small donations from supporters, but how much of the money for these ads, these videos, and the money spent bribing pundits and TV stations comes from small donations from ordinary supporters?"

"I wonder if you would be willing to donate money to these politicians to support their extravagant lifestyles."

"Anyway, I'm unwilling. After paying rent, credit card installments, and student loans, there's almost nothing left of the money I earn. I don't even have the money to donate to them."

At this point, the driver chuckled, glancing at the opulent shopping malls around him. "These candidates need advertising, they need publicity, they need to hire people to organize their speeches—all of that costs money."

This money won't appear out of thin air. If we poor voters can't get it from us, we have no choice but to go to financial groups.

“If you take someone’s money, you have to do things for them. So just listen to those so-called campaign promises. They say they’re campaigning for us, but they’re actually campaigning for themselves. Although we hold the votes, we don’t actually decide whether they get elected.”

"It is the conglomerates that decide who to invest money in, who to give more exposure to, and who to be seen by more people. People with high profiles are naturally more likely to be selected."

"Those who are unwilling to cooperate with the conglomerates or do not obey their will will not be given money by the conglomerates. They may even send people to disrupt their speeches. Even if they really want to do something, no one can see them. Naturally, they will not get votes and will eventually disappear into the vast sea of ​​people."

"So for these candidates, the key to deciding who comes to power is not us who control the votes, but the conglomerates that control the funds."

"These candidates will only be accountable to those who truly decide their fate, so no matter how eloquently they speak or how wonderful their campaign promises are, it's nothing more than a way to temporarily deceive those of us who have no money."

“Once they are actually elected, they will only repay the financial support of the conglomerates that spent a lot of money on them.”

The streetlights ahead gradually dimmed, and the bright yellow taxi disappeared into the night. "That's how the Federation is. Even that late-night news you just saw, that kind of news would never normally appear on the screens in that bustling commercial district."

"The host's words, though seemingly neutral on the surface, were actually praising Quinid and belittling the other candidates. It was obvious that he had been paid to do so."

"You seem to know a lot."

He asked softly.

“I used to go to college,” the taxi driver said, pulling out a cigarette. Then he hesitated for a moment and asked softly, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

"Please."

He Ao nodded.

"When I was in school, I was the vice president of the student council, and I even thought about becoming a politician back then,"

The driver opened the driver's window, lit a cigarette, and as the hazy smoke rose, he said slowly, "The more I came into contact with others, the more I realized that without money, without support, without fame, almost no one would vote for me."

“I couldn’t even raise enough money for my first speech. At first, I tried to contact the people who supported my candidacy to see if I could raise some money, but then I couldn’t get through to them on the phone.”

"I spent several years figuring out the rules and then went to those conglomerates and factories to seek financial support. I had no qualifications or background, and they hardly even glanced at me."

"Later, I finally found a factory that was willing to 'invest' in us unknown rookie 'candidates'. This factory invested heavily in rookies like us who were worthless. I knew very well that they didn't appreciate me; they were just casting a wide net and trying their luck."

"The factory's requirements are very simple: once you take their money, you have to do things for them."

The driver took a drag of his cigarette. "My parents are ordinary workers, and I know how terrible the factory environment is."

Considering their workload, my initial motivation for running for office was to use my own strength to drive change in the factory and improve the living conditions of people like my parents.

"But the consortium behind that factory demanded that if I won the election, I would help them push for bills to lower wages, bills to further relax environmental restrictions on factories, and to prevent bills to raise the minimum wage from being passed in Parliament."

"Although I had expected it, I was still stunned for a long time when I heard this request."

The driver had a cigarette in his mouth, and the cold air and darkness swirled in through the car window at the same time. "On one side is the investment opportunity I've been begging for so long to get, and on the other side are my own ideals and principles."

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, removed it from his mouth, and held it out the window. "Then I thought, screw it, let whoever wants to do this do it."

"I left that factory, ending all my dreams."

The sweeping wind blew past the cigarette butt, carrying its glow into the night. "At that moment, I knew I couldn't change this world, so I found a job and became a taxi driver. Although taxi companies are just as bastards as factories, at least I'm free when I'm driving through the wind."

The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to the end. The driver put it away, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. He glanced at He Ao listening intently in the rearview mirror.

"I'm sorry to have made you listen to so much of my story."

“It’s alright,” He Ao smiled. “I actually quite enjoy hearing these kinds of stories. My mother is a writer, and when I was little, she often took me on trips. Everywhere we went, she would take a taxi and chat with the driver, listening to his different stories, um…”

He Ao paused slightly, "But your story is quite legendary, among all the stories I've ever heard."

"is it?"

The taxi driver chuckled. "Actually, the election industry isn't that mysterious. Once you cross that threshold, it's pretty much the same as any other industry. Your mother sounds like a very interesting person. The stories she writes must be very captivating."

"yes,"

He looked out the window and activated his super memory. In the invisible darkness, his thoughts, surging like a tide, spread into his senses. "She is a bestselling author, and most of the time, her thinking is a bit whimsical. Of course, when I make mistakes, she is just as fierce as any other mother."

Deep within the city, there seemed to be some kind of undercurrent surging. This was not the first time He Ao had sensed this undercurrent; he had felt it once before when he was searching for the location of Jess's former laboratory.

But this time, amidst this surging tide, He Ao sensed a familiar feeling he had only recently encountered.

“All mothers in this world are the same, and so is my mother,”

The driver glanced at He Ao's face in the rearview mirror. Seeing the lingering affection and reminiscence on He Ao's cheeks, he realized he might have asked a poor question. He didn't delve further into the matter, but instead stepped on the gas and asked instead,

"Your destination seems to be an abandoned industrial building, and it's a expedited order. Is something wrong that you're going there so late?"

“I have a friend who lives nearby.”

He Ao withdrew his gaze and replied softly.

He raised the bracelet and glanced at its contents.

The bracelet is currently displaying a message interface, showing Hai Xi and his chat history.

The first few chat logs were normal. Hesy told him that she had arrived in Plant and was about to meet her 'old friend'.