Industrial Cthulhu doesn't believe in the end times.

Chapter 185 Influence
As the conference concluded, its contents were naturally broadcast, and its impact on China was still like thunder gathering in the clouds, while on the other side of the world, it had already caused an uproar.

In western North America, at a military base near San Francisco, someone exclaimed in surprise.

"They say they have how many superhumans? Two million? Do we have two million people in total right now?"

“Hard to say.” His colleague shook his head. “How many people are there in all the nearby bases combined? If you include the other states, it’s enough, but what do these people have to do with us?”

The man nodded in agreement. Before the cataclysm, the states of North America were only superficially united, bound together by interests and power, working together to pursue their own interests within an organization called the nation.

When a major catastrophe occurs, they will naturally act according to their own interests. They are not only not on the same path, but when conflicts of interest arise, they may even fight each other.

The so-called cohesion was worn away by decades of internal struggles in the civilized era, so how can the people in this safe zone today have any national consciousness?

Ultimately, having enough territory and strong military power does not automatically make a country a great power; some entities may not even qualify as countries.

Nowadays, even proposing to provide some assistance to neighboring bases would likely be met with fierce criticism from voters for wasting resources.

Although when it comes to making a decision, they don't really care what the voters say.

After listening to the broadcast for a while longer, they became even more amazed.

"If all of this is true, it would be terrifying."

"How could it be true?" A colleague scoffed. "A law on the rights and responsibilities of superhumans? Do you think that's possible? Those in power certainly have ways to become superhumans themselves; they just need to pile resources on them. Would they agree to impose so many restrictions on themselves?"

"Just look at the situation here. Do you want this? I certainly don't. Life is so comfortable right now."

"Exactly, we're lucky. That Vincent is already trying to portray himself as a god reincarnated!"

"In my opinion, all of this is just a propaganda tactic on their part. Once our broadcasting station is built, we can say the same thing. When those survivors hear the broadcast, won't they all rush to our base?"

"That makes sense." Everyone present agreed with this view. After all, they had done the same thing many times before and after the cataclysm, and they were very familiar with the process.

One of the young men in the room didn't participate in the conversation. Instead, he asked with some concern, "Shouldn't we do something about the sea monster crisis they mentioned? Things are alright inside the base, but those people outside don't seem capable of resisting, do they?"

“Why do you care about them?” Someone shook their head. “Life will find its own way, won’t it? Allen, you’re too kind. Disaster relief is something that socialist countries need to do. What does it have to do with us?”

Upon hearing this, many people present burst into laughter. However, the young man called Allen's eyes flickered, seemingly disagreeing. Seeing this, the person who had spoken first patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry too much. Maybe these so-called sea monsters are just something they made up to scare people. Think about it, why would mutated sea beasts run onto land? Don't they need water?"

Others put it more bluntly: "If you ask me, it would be great if the sea monsters really came. Wouldn't those survivors be begging to come to our base? We could make these people do whatever they want! Those voters who are always making demands should shut up, or we could just throw them out to feed the fish!"

Amidst the uproarious laughter, Allen nodded reluctantly and left the room.

These people have lived in the safe zone for a long time, selectively ignoring everything outside, but he knows quite a lot of information.

Allen was actually quite popular and held an important position in the base's warehouse, which gave him access to a lot of intelligence. He was well aware that many of the spiritual energy crystals the base had recently acquired came from marine creatures.

So much of it is handed over to the base, but how much is being siphoned off at each level? If you think about it more deeply, it's terrifying.

In the cold wind, he looked up at the main building of the base behind him, where an antenna, half-finished, stood atop the reinforced concrete fortress.

Regardless of how much falsehood is in the broadcasts, at least the technology they provide is genuine, and much of it has been verified. However, when it comes to large-scale projects like large broadcasting stations, which are quite costly and extensive, the difficulties encountered in construction are numerous.

The little bit of spiritual energy crystals that were painstakingly accumulated would inevitably be lost for various reasons after being sent out of the warehouse, but these were not the key issues. The more critical problem was that even if enough resources were gathered, there weren't many qualified engineers available to participate in the construction. A prime example was that there were only three workers in the entire base capable of undertaking antenna welding work, and now that it was too cold, they refused to work.

They don't work, and no one cares. On the contrary, many departments are happy to accept this. Allen knows the reason very well—after all, as long as the project is not completed, these people can continue to profit from it.

All these factors combined have led to the base antenna being repaired with many setbacks for more than half a year, and it is still not complete.

If the situation is still like this in the base they are in, which is already quite large, how much better can the organizations in other parts of the country be?

The broadcast from the room behind them continued, punctuated by bursts of laughter. These colleagues treated the broadcast as a joke; they certainly didn't believe a word of it, or perhaps they simply didn't want to believe it.

Allen took a deep breath, the cold, dry air filling his lungs. Sometimes he had an urge to do something to wake up his colleagues, but he also knew very well that they were indeed a group that couldn't be roused.

At that moment, he felt that the descriptions in some of the works broadcast on the radio were very apt: they were a group of people pretending to be asleep in an iron house.

Thinking this, Allen walked towards his dormitory. Looking up, he saw several people who were completely drunk, supporting each other. Many of them were still holding bottles of alcohol, cursing and swearing as they walked.

He stepped aside, away from the group of drunkards, but what they were saying caught his attention.

"...They won't let me play with women, and they won't even let me find some leafy greens. I feel like I can't stay in this base any longer!"

"Women... South Street isn't a place to just play around... Ye Zi really can't be found..."

“What’s so fun about those old ladies on South Street? I was thinking… you know that one from the survivors, right? The pretty one. I saw she was starving, and I was thinking if she was willing to sleep with me, I’d find her some food.”

"Fuck! She actually dared to hit me for this! And she even dared to complain to the captain!"

"So that's why you got scolded!" The drunkards laughed gleefully.

"I really think I should just go find Vincent and work for him. I can do anything there. I'll sneak over there with some supplies and hopefully I can get a position. I won't have to get punished here just for trying to have some fun with a woman..."

The group of drunkards seemed completely oblivious to the problem with what they were saying on the street. However, one of them advised, "He was a star before the Cataclysm, he was probably waiting to snag a high-ranking official. Why would he be interested in you? I'd say it's safer in the base… Vincent's Whirlwind Cult recently got into a fight with the Unity Society. If you go looking for them now, you'll probably get caught up in the fighting…"

"If you really want to have fun... just find a reason to lure her out, have your fun, and then make sure she's dead so there's no way to prove it... lots of people do it that way, keep it clean, no one will be able to find out..."

The group of people walked away into the distance, but Allen stood still, his eyes gleaming.

He didn't actually want to go find Vincent; those were a bunch of religious fanatics. He saw it clearly: if such an organization existed before the Great Cataclysm, it would be considered a cult even in North America.

However, the Unity Society, which often opposes it, acts according to the initiatives proposed by the East in the broadcasts, and many of its leaders worship the East's commander-in-chief as a prophet.

They gathered a considerable number of survivors, and if they weren't so poorly equipped, they would likely have become the largest force in the area.

Turning around, Allen glanced again at the half-finished radio station antenna in the distance, and gradually made up his mind.

The Unity Association is a good place to go. I really want to bring the people of this land together again. Perhaps only they can do it.

Having decided to go, he thought about how he could use his own resources to provide some assistance. After much deliberation, Allen finally set off towards the warehouse where he worked.

(End of this chapter)