American Strategic Deception Bureau

　Well, it is very troublesome to take care of a woman without limbs in terms of her daily life and defecation. The people who take care of her always want to make it easier and save effort.

　Therefore, during this time in the underground shelter, Catherine rarely had a good meal.

　The girls only gave Catherine water and liquid food. Besides being held in her arms and fed with milk, she was given glucose oral solution, and at most occasionally given some pills to supplement vitamins... Finally, when she made mistakes or disobeyed, she was forced to drink urine as punishment.

　In that case, what difference does it make whether Catherine has teeth in her mouth or not?

　If I pulled all her teeth out, I'd get rid of bad breath, cavities, and toothaches—how could I have pain without any teeth? Is it phantom toothache?

　And the girls can save the trouble of brushing Catherine's teeth: since she has no teeth, there is no need to brush them.

　In view of this, the hostess Marita ignored Catherine's pleading eyes, waved her hand to signal Juanita to continue pulling out the tooth, and called several other girls to help hold down Catherine to prevent her from moving during the extraction... Finally, Marita took out a bottle of anesthetic and a large bottle of healing potion, handed them to Juanita and others, and told Juanita to remember to apply medicine at any time when pulling out Catherine's teeth to avoid heavy bleeding.

　Then, Marita turned her back to the crying Catherine, walked out of the underground shelter as if she didn't see anything, returned to the living room of the villa on the ground, sat on the sofa, crossed her beautiful legs, and continued to chat with Fili through the magic crystal ball.

　[Dear, where were we just now? Regarding the skin issue, I already know the reason behind it and have prepared Catherine. Now Hu

　Anita and the others are pulling out Catherine's teeth... When can you expect to be back? Will it be okay to pull her teeth early?]

　Then, she vaguely noticed that Fili's mood across from her seemed a little off, with a hint of panic and a dilemma.

　[Let’s not worry about the teeth for now, Marita. As I recall, your brothers and sisters all live in New York or Washington, right?]

　[Ah, there's no one left in my family in New York. After the civil war broke out last year, they heard that New York became a rebellious state, so they all moved away.]

　[Whew, that's not so bad. The CIA is completely crazy. To create an atmosphere of terror, they're actually going to release biological weapons in New York...]

　Author's Note: PS: Musk's layoffs have gotten more and more impressive lately, including raids on password lock systems, seizing government buildings, and shutting down entire departments, preventing employees from coming to work. The establishment can only pathetically fight lawsuits, and given the efficiency of the US, it's not uncommon for lawsuits to drag on for years.

　So, in "Yes, Minister," if the Prime Minister is determined to lay off employees, can he also lead a group of people to seal off government offices and burn files, making the entire department cease to exist? Then the civil servants who are left on the street will have no choice but to sue the Prime Minister?

　Chapter 591: Brooklyn Scavengers

　March 9, 1971, New York, USA

　The weather in New York in March is still cold.

　Shrouded in the darkness of night, the industrial district of Brooklyn is like a sleeping giant, shrouded in a deep gray mist.

　The dim light from a few street lamps barely penetrated the cold air of the port, outlining the vague outline of the city.

　Walking along the winding roads between textile mills, printing plants, and warehouses, a dilapidated wasteland gradually emerged before my eyes: the Brooklyn Navy Yard, founded in 1801, once the iron cradle of the American Navy. Now, only rusted metal skeletons and dilapidated industrial debris remained, like a giant, abandoned mechanical corpse, lying silently in ruins on the edge of the waves, as if waiting for time to completely devour it.

　Not too long ago, thirty years ago, this land was bustling with activity and machinery roared. From the early 19th century to the 1940s, the Brooklyn Navy Yard, located between the Manhattan Bridge and the William Bloomsburg Bridge in New York, was the main shipbuilding base of the US Navy.

　For over a hundred years, and especially during World War II, America's most powerful warships were built here, including the battleship USS Missouri, which witnessed the Japanese surrender ceremony, and the super aircraft carrier USS Constellation. During World War II, more than 7 workers were employed here to build warships day and night.

　At that time, loud whistles often echoed in the bay, bright lights illuminated the night sky of Brooklyn, the noisy sound of metal collisions continued all day long, billowing smoke almost covered the sky, and there was an endless stream of people and vehicles entering and leaving the factory.

　This factory was a symbol of the strength of the US Navy at the time. It was constantly devouring massive amounts of steel, paint, teak, fir, rubber and countless types of consumable parts, spitting out giant battleships made of steel and iron, which were transported to every corner of the world, majestically suppressing disobedience from all sides.

　Yet, the hustle and bustle of the place is gone. The once bustling docks and slipways have become silent shells, the roar of machinery replaced by utter silence. Dilapidated pipes, like decaying blood vessels, lie across the factory grounds, corroded by damp rust. Abandoned cranes, overturned stoves, and scattered tools silently bear witness to the factory's former glory. Only the sea laps against the old dock, a low, sighing murmur.

　——Since the end of World War II, the proportion of manufacturing in the US economy has been shrinking, and the number of abandoned factories has been increasing.

　While the old industrial areas of the future Great Lakes "Rust Belt" are still struggling, the even older Brooklyn Navy Yard in New York City began to decline as demand for warships and orders decreased as early as the end of World War II.

　Although the Brooklyn Navy Yard survived for a while in the 1960s thanks to ship orders brought in by the Vietnam War, last year, amid the turmoil of the Second American Civil War, the shipyard in the rebel state finally closed down and was completely abandoned.

　The entire Brooklyn industrial area surrounding the shipyard, where the once prosperous manufacturing industry had already slid into decline, left behind slums and thousands of homeless people. To this day, New York's electricity and tap water are still intermittent, so how can we talk about resuming production?

　What's more, New York is now a nuclear contaminated area that was hit by an atomic bomb. Which serious capitalist would be willing to put a factory here?

　Seventeen-year-old James Douglas stood before the rusted iron gates of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, his eyes filled with reminiscence.

　This is his hometown. His parents and grandparents once worked here and created the former glory on this land with their own hands.

　James Douglas was born into a family of local shipbuilders. The Brooklyn Navy Yard was more than just a factory for him; it carried his blood and destiny. The salutes and whistles of every ship launched were among his most vivid childhood memories.

　He vaguely remembers his father coming home from work every day, covered in grease but always smiling. His father would often bring him a cup of chocolate ice cream on the way home, a tacit understanding between them that needed no words.

　Sometimes, his father would lift him up and sit on his shoulders, and they would walk together through the streets outside the shipyard.

　In the evening, the air was filled with the smell of paint and other odors, mixed with the aroma of a nearby barbecue stall. Although it was unpleasant, it was the warmest time in James' memory.

　He still remembers the grand occasion of the shipyard's open day. Every year at this time, the shipyard's gates would be open to the workers' families. James would always excitedly grab his father's hand and rush into the tall factory building and magnificent dock to watch his father and his fellow workers assemble one majestic ship after another. Amid the envious eyes of the other children, James proudly showed off his father's workplace, feeling the unique honor of it.

　On open days, the shipyard was filled with the aroma of hot dogs and popcorn, while the cries of vendors and the sounds of children playing blended into a sea of ​​joy. James still remembers his father buying him a small blue hat with the factory logo and letting him run around the factory like a "little worker."

　These memories, though simple, were deeply etched in Jack's heart. The roar of the factory, the smoke rising from the chimney, his father's rough yet warm hands—they were like a part of his very being. Yet, standing here now, everything in his memories had become strange and distant.

　The vibrant atmosphere had long since dissipated, leaving only dilapidated ruins and rusty machines, like the corpse of a giant.

　What makes James even more ashamed is that he now has to steal some things from the corpses of the Brooklyn Navy Yard to make a living.

　——Because he is a scavenger.

　There was no other way. The factory closed down, my father was imprisoned, my mother was bedridden, and my young sister was crying out for food...

　As the only male in the Douglas family, what else could James Douglas do except drop out of school and work hard to support his family?

　Hmm? What did his father do to get arrested by the police?

　In name, it was "obstructing police enforcement", but in reality it was just an attempt to prevent the police from robbing people.

　——Ever since the "New York Commune" rose and fell, and perished along with Wall Street and the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, the thousands of tons of Federal Reserve gold bars and countless jewelry that were lost to the people of New York in that chaos have become the target of countless people's salivation.

　In the eyes of many people, New York after the chaos is like a huge maze with countless treasures buried.

　As long as you can find a treasure, you can become rich instantly - even in the worst black slums, there may be gold bricks hidden!

　People don't dare to break into the mansions of the rich and rob them without permission. But who wouldn't dare to do whatever they want in the slums of the poor streets if they have a gun?

　Thus, for the next six months after the Civil War, all powerful units operating in New York, whether soldiers, police, FBI and IRS agents, mercenaries, or even gangs, sought every opportunity to transform into adventurers, breaking into citizens' homes, rummaging through drawers, and looting.

　As a result, they actually found a lot of gold coins. Er, gold bricks, which naturally further stimulated the police's enthusiasm for plundering people's wealth.

　Anyway, New York is a rebel state, and New Yorkers are all rebels. They are not protected by their civil rights and can be treated as inferior people!

　Of course, the rich, powerful and those with connections are exceptions.

　But unfortunately, the Douglas family in Brooklyn has four generations of ordinary workers, and there is not even a relative who has made a name for himself.

　So they became NPC monsters in RPG games, and could be beaten to lose gold coins or gain experience at any time.

　Last fall, a group of police officers got a tip-off from somewhere and suspected that Douglas had participated in the New York Commune and had taken Federal Reserve gold bars home. So they rushed straight to Douglas's house, broke into the house, and pinned the Douglas family to the floor while they were having dinner.

　After a thorough search, the greedy police found nothing. Not even a scrap of gold, let alone a gold bar. However, adhering to the principle of "a thief should leave empty-handed," they still plundered the house, even taking the wedding rings of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas.

　The angry old Douglas tried to resist, but was beaten with a baton until his head was bleeding. Then the police arrested the head of the family and put him in jail...

　Since he had no money to pay bail, old Douglas had to stay in prison endlessly, waiting for the trial which would come at an unknown time.

　In this way, this already very poor unemployed worker family suddenly became even worse off.

　James Douglas, who was in high school, had to drop out of school and try to find a job to support his family.

　However, New York City is now in a state of recovery after being hit by a nuclear bomb, and President Nixon is not very concerned about urban reconstruction. Instead, he is very active in plundering New York's wealth, resulting in extremely poor employment conditions in New York, with unemployment as high as during the Great Depression.

　In this situation, even if a high school dropout with no academic qualifications can find a temporary job by chance, the meager salary is not enough to support himself. How can one person support three people by working?

　Seeing that he could not survive by taking the right path, James Douglas naturally took the crooked path of breaking the law and committing crimes.

　It's just that his reaction speed is a little slow, and he always fails when he tries to steal as a street thief. If he goes to rob stores and buy things for free, he doesn't have the confidence to dodge the store owner's double-barreled shotgun and Glock pistol. Anyone who dares to open a store in New York today is a ruthless person with strong martial arts ethics.

　Those cowardly shop owners who dared not resist the zero-yuan purchase offer would have gone bankrupt by now.

　What? Gang-banging and drug dealing?

　First, there is no drug prohibition in the United States at this time; second, if you don’t have certain connections or qualifications and abilities, how can you get into a gang?

　Third, even if you join a gang as a younger brother, you won’t have much money when you first join, and you might even have to pay for it yourself!

　In Chicago's black gangs, 95% of the gang members' income is not enough for basic living expenses and they can only rely on their parents to survive.

　If it were a white gang in New York, I think the welfare of the lower classes would not be much better.

　After all, as both are in power in capitalist society, how can you expect a gangster to have more conscience than a capitalist?

　So, after some twists and turns, James Douglas became a night scavenger. Relying on his familiarity with the Brooklyn Navy Yard, he sneaked into the factory at night and searched for some valuable things to sell.

　Copper ingots, wires, small parts, and the like could be sold to scrap dealers. The inventory stored for years in the factory's underground shelter was also a good source of loot—the military canned food with a twenty-year shelf life smelled like medicine, and the compressed biscuits were unpalatable, but at least they could satisfy hunger.

　Of course, when he gets the chance, he doesn't mind stealing cars that are "parked randomly" on the roadside and selling them to supplement his family income.

　James Douglas has done scavenging operations like this many times, and his mentality has gradually become numb from the initial guilt and uneasiness.

　But tonight, as he stood in front of the abandoned factory, a lingering cloud rose in his heart. The Brooklyn Navy Yard, at night, seemed to conceal something indescribable. An invisible sense of danger welled up from behind the iron gates, leaving James feeling vaguely uneasy.

　"What happened today?" he muttered to himself, his fingertips lightly touching the cold iron door.

　There was a strange feeling of oppression in the air, as if a latent undercurrent was gathering strength.

　James suddenly felt a sense of crisis and for some reason he wanted to turn around and run away.

　But when he thought about his family’s almost empty savings and the soaring prices every day, he gritted his teeth and continued to walk up.

　After more than two hours of searching, he finally found a hammer, two wrenches, a bag of copper washers, and some brass scraps—better than nothing, I guess!

　Although in the Pentagon's account, this thing might be worth a few thousand dollars.

　But if he took it to a junkyard or a thrift store? James didn't think he could get even $20.

　Anyway, after wandering for a long time, James arrived at his last stop for the night, the dock facing the bay at the shipyard.

　Across the pier is Manhattan, where the lights of skyscrapers glitter, symbolizing the world's ultimate wealth and luxury.

　There were also a lot of miscellaneous items scattered in the warehouses and huts near the dock. James even found a usable walkie-talkie here and sold it to a thrift store for $150, which allowed them to have enough food on the table for a few days.

　But today, when he walked near the dock, he was suddenly attracted by a strange object.

　He stopped and saw a truck parked next to the dock in the deep night, with its headlights on brightly.

　A strange cylindrical machine, about the size of two or three refrigerators, was erected on the truck bed. It was constantly emitting a low rumbling sound and spraying thick white mist toward the sea. The cylinder was painted a striking orange-yellow and had a skull pattern on it, which looked ominous.

　Several furtive men in black were busy around the trucks and cylindrical machines, and no one knew what they were doing.

　But with the help of moonlight and car lights, James saw that each of them was wearing a gas mask!

　The next moment, a sudden shock surged into James Douglas's heart.

　It was as if some mysterious evil force had quietly descended upon this silent industrial ruin.

　Although he did not understand all this, the doubts and uneasiness in his heart made him decide not to stay any longer and to leave here as soon as possible.

　Next, it seemed that because the noise of the machine on the truck was too loud and the lights were too bright, it interfered with the vision and hearing of the men in black beside the car. James walked hurriedly through the ruins and left the shipyard without attracting the attention of any strangers.

　However, the moment he set foot here, misfortune had already befallen him...

　-

　The next day, James Douglas brought his few scavenging gains from the previous night and the cans picked up by his sister to the scrap recycling station. When he was waiting in line to sell them, he suddenly felt an itch in his nose and sneezed loudly.

　"Ah!"

　As he sneezed, his hand shook and the cans and scrap copper in the bag fell to the ground.

　Without even thinking about why he sneezed, James Douglas bent down to pick up the bag and continued to queue. But not long after, he sneezed twice more, his face covered with snot. Facing the disgusted looks of others, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

　At this time, while wiping his nose, James realized that he might have a cold.

　So, without bothering to bargain with the old man who collected scrap, he sold the scrap for three cents, which was not worth two cents, and then hurriedly turned around and went home - the doctor would definitely not look down on him. He would go home to see if he had any aspirin, then drink more water and lie down to wait for it to heal itself.

　James, feeling dizzy, returned home with a few banknotes, drank some water, and went to bed, unconscious, not noticing anything. While he was sleeping, his mother and sister also started coughing and having runny noses.

　——Some things cannot be cured just by sleeping.

　Shortly after James left, the old man who collected scrap suddenly sneezed, and then the scavengers in the queue also coughed.

　James, who returned home, quickly passed the cold to his mother and sister, and the scavenger who lined up with him in front of the scrap yard also passed the cold virus to his wife and children. Then, on a bus from Brooklyn to Queens, there was a burst of sneezes.

　Then, as more and more people began sneezing and having runny noses, it wasn't long before a highly contagious flu broke out in New York State. Then, thanks to long-distance transmission by trains, cars, and airplanes, it quickly spread throughout the East Coast and even the entire United States.

　For a time, there was a constant stream of people going to pharmacies and hospitals to see doctors and buy medicine, and countless people took sick leave from companies, government departments, and schools.

　Television news and radio stations broadcast urgent flu alerts, and countless people wore masks and stayed home.

　The entire United States seemed to be mired in the shadow of a flu virus. Especially in New York City, a postwar devastation ravaged by poor sanitary conditions, over 30% of New Yorkers contracted the flu, with the disease showing signs of spreading abroad. Yet, people were helpless—despite the "Tantric Master's" supposed cure-all H-therapy, using such a life-saving trick for a mere cold seemed a bit unreasonable.

　Indeed, for most people, this flu is not as severe as the Black Death, which can cause instant collapse.

　If a person is physically fit, young and healthy, after catching this special cold, the most he will feel is weak all day long, with symptoms such as runny nose and fever, and recovery will be very slow - but it won't be too bad, and he can still go to work.

　Just prepare tissues in advance and drink plenty of water to hold on.

　His voice is hoarse, he gets tired easily, his attention is always distracted, he often has accidents when operating machines, and he is prone to car accidents when driving. However, he can still manage to go to work.

　But for those with already weak constitutions, this flu was extremely deadly. Although tens of millions of people in the United States contracted the flu each year, and tens of thousands died from it, the mortality rate this time was significantly higher! At least a hundred times higher than the common flu!