American Evil God, starting with the American rebel leader raising poisonous insects.

Chapter 129

Chapter 129 (4000!)

The top floor of the Indianapolis State Capitol.

Governor Kirby Spencer stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a tablet computer.

A video is playing on the screen.

A man in overalls poured several compressed nutrient blocks and water into a metal box about half his height, pressed a button, waited thirty minutes, and then took out five yellow cuboids from the exit.

"High-energy nutritional blocks, each containing 2,000 calories, with a shelf life of at least two years."

The man spoke to the camera.

"Raw material costs are practically nonexistent."

The video ends.

Spencer put down his tablet and turned to look at the map on the office wall.

A map of Indiana, with the outline of Michigan marked in red to the north, and a handwritten note next to it: New Canaan, with a population of about 400,000 and an estimated armed force of 50,000 to 80,000.

He walked to his desk and pulled up another report.

In the past month, all three food aid applications submitted by Indiana to the federal government have been rejected.

The state’s four main grain depots have only 37 percent of their reserves remaining, which is expected to last for at most two months.

The agriculture minister's memo, submitted last week, stated: "The area planted in the spring is expected to decrease by 42 percent due to labor shortages and fuel scarcity."

Spencer sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He was 54 years old, had served as governor for eight years, and came from the Spencer family, a political dynasty. His grandfather was a senator and his father was a federal judge.

He knew from a young age how to weigh the pros and cons and how to survive in the game of power.

But now the rules of the game have changed.

The black box design provided by Noah AI—the machine that could automatically produce food and weapons using only waste, electricity, and basic materials—turned the entire chessboard upside down.

The future is already here.

Everything has changed.

Food self-production can be achieved simply by asking Noah AI questions, without any technical expertise whatsoever.

Send a message, wait a few minutes, and the design will be sent to your email. Follow the instructions to weld, connect wires, and feed materials, and the machine will start running.

Then production becomes meaningless.

Agriculture, food processing, light industry, and even some heavy industries—all aspects of production that rely on human labor—have become worthless.

Now only two things remain of value:

Supplies.

And strength.

Whoever controls raw materials, energy, and the military will survive.

Spencer opened his eyes and looked at the northern part of the map.

Indiana is bordered to the north by Michigan, also known as New Canaan.

That place that was cleansed with guns and blood by Carl Jensen, that the theocratic regime that now calls itself "the land of God".

In the past two weeks, more than 3,000 Indiana residents have crossed the state line to join the New Canaan movement.

Most of them are unemployed workers, bankrupt farmers, and families dragged down by medical debt.

State police attempted to intervene, but were repelled three times by New Canaan's armed patrols on the border.

The enemy has heavy machine guns, mortars, and is organized.

The other party might even truly possess divine power.

State troopers only have handguns and shotguns.

"Distant water cannot quench a fire nearby."

Spencer said in a low voice.

The federal government is far away in Washington, with Pennsylvania and Ohio in between, and it also has to be wary of Lucien Alden and the Alexander family on the West Coast.

By the time reinforcements arrive, Indiana may already be gone.

And were those reinforcements really there to help?

Spencer recalled a video conference he had last week with the governors of several neighboring states.

The governor of Ohio hinted at the possibility of regional autonomy, the governor of Illinois proposed joint defense, and the governor of Kentucky said it was a matter of each country having to rely on its own capabilities.

Nobody mentioned the Federation.

As everyone knows, President Milk Dragon's biggest concern right now is how to control Noah AI, how to deal with Lucien, and how to guard against the Alexander family.

At the same time, they are also preparing to fight a holy war.

As for the states in the Midwest, we can temporarily ignore them as long as they don't openly rebel.

Spencer stood up and walked to the safe at the other end of the office.

Enter the password to open the cabinet door.

There were no documents or cash inside, only an old-fashioned revolver and a Spencer family crest ring.

He picked up the ring and put it on the ring finger of his left hand.

The ring is a product of an Indian Gundam helmet, with the family motto engraved on its surface: Caution, Decision, Survival.

He is Kobe Spencer, the governor of Indiana, the nominal head of the state, and the current patriarch of the Spencer family.

He made his choice.

Spencer picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the extension number.

"Notify all cabinet members of an emergency meeting in one hour."

"Yes, Governor."

"Also, contact New Canaan's diplomatic channels and say that Indiana is willing to talk."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Governor, are you sure? This could be considered treason."

"Treason?"

Spencer laughed. "What article in the Constitution says you can't cooperate with your neighbor?"

"but----"

Do as instructed.

"Yes."

Spencer hung up the phone and walked back to the French windows.

Outside the window is the skyline of Indianapolis, with a few factory chimneys still emitting smoke in the distance, though fewer than ten years ago.

He remembered his grandfather's words: "Politics is about choices, and choices are always between something bad and something worse."

He has made his choice.

"Let's go, we surrender!"

Spencer said to his reflection in the glass.

The sound was soft, but clear.

At the same time, in Austin, Texas, at the State Capitol.

Nine people were sitting in the small meeting room.

Six state legislators, two senior state government officials, and a recorder.

The meeting has been going on for forty minutes, and the topic is "Analysis of the Current Situation and Response Strategies".

Jed Miller sat in the third seat on the left side of the long table, holding a printed report in his hand.

He was 46 years old, stocky, wearing a suit but no tie, and had sunspots on his face from long hours of outdoor work.

He is a Republican congressman from Texas, whose district is located in an industrial area outside Houston, and whose voters are mostly redneck workers.

But he himself was not of redneck origin.

He climbed his way up from the bottom, dropping out of high school, working in the oil field for ten years, graduating from community college through night school, and then working his way up from city councilor to state legislator.

He is able to sit in this position because he knows how to speak, how to count votes, and when to take sides.

Three years ago, he stood on President Nairobi's side.

Now, he needs to make another choice.

"Everyone."

Jade put down the report and looked around the conference room.

"I think we've all seen that video, the food self-production machine enabled by Noah AI, and the weapons production line."

No one spoke.

Everyone has seen it.

Over the past week, the video has gone viral online, garnering over 100 million views and sparking heated debates in the comments section.

Some cheered the liberation of technology, some panicked about a wave of unemployment, some questioned its authenticity, and some have already started building it themselves according to the design.

My view is very simple.

Jade continued, his voice steady, with a Texas accent.

"Let's go, let's announce our allegiance to Commander Milk Dragon!"

A low gasp filled the conference room.

Ellis Clinton, sitting opposite Jade, looked up and frowned.

Ellis was thirty-eight years old, tall and thin, wearing a custom-made suit and gold-rimmed glasses.

He was an illegitimate son of the Clinton family; his mother was a governess, and his father was the elder Clinton, a Texas oil tycoon.

Because his blue-blooded noble brothers and sisters were all of saintly quality, this kind of position that required practical work fell to him.

"Congressman Jade."

Ellis spoke, her voice soft but clearly defiant.

"Can you explain why?"

Jade looked at him calmly.

"Because production no longer requires humans."

He said.

"That black box, from its construction to its automated maintenance to its delivery, has absolutely no technological content whatsoever."

"You just need to weld according to the drawings, connect the power, and add the materials, and it will run by itself."

"No need for workers in three shifts, no need for quality control, no need for a maintenance team, nothing at all."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"In other words, the lower-class rednecks are useless; they have no jobs, no income, and no value."

"Middle managers are useless now; the production line is managing itself."

"Even most of the upper class, those who profit from controlling the means of production and labor, are no longer of any use."

"Because the means of production have now become a machine, and labor has become zero."

"zero!"

Jade placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"At this point, only fists will be of any use."

"Whoever has guns, soldiers, and organization can control raw materials and energy."

"Then you can survive, and live better than anyone else."

There was silence in the conference room.

The recorder's fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure whether to jot down this passage.

"You're saying—"

Ellis was about to retort, but Jed interrupted him.

"I'm talking about reality, Mr. Clinton."

Jed looked directly into Ellis's eyes.

Do you know how many people are unemployed in Texas right now?

"Eighteen percent."

"Do you know how much this number would rise if black boxes became widespread? Fifty percent, or even higher."

What do people do when they have no food?

"They will rob, smash, and set fires."

"And then who will they listen to? They'll listen to those who can give them food and weapons."

"Who has food and weapons now?"

Jed held up two fingers.

"First, President Milk Dragon has a state apparatus, an army, food reserves, and the right to cooperate with Noah AI."

"Second, Carl Jensen, he has divine power, fanatical followers, and the black box production line of New Canaan."

"Third, Lucien Oldent, he has the support of old money families, Wall Street funds, and New York resources."

He withdrew his finger.

What does Texas have?

"We have oil fields, but the refineries need workers, and those workers are about to lose their jobs."

"We have farms, but the produce needs to be processed and transported, while the black box can directly produce nutrient blocks."

"We have guns, lots of guns, but we have no organization, no unified command, and no strategic objectives."

Jade raised his voice a little.

"So we have to choose one side."

"I choose Nancy Sidney because he is at least still president, he has legal legitimacy, and he has the loyalty of the military."

"By standing with him, we can maintain a certain degree of autonomy and prevent Texas from falling into complete chaos."

Ellis remained silent for a few seconds.

He realized why Jade would say that.

Because this legislator, who climbed up from the bottom, knew that when the bottom collapsed, the first to be crushed were those middle-class people who had no foundation.

Although Ellis Clinton is an illegitimate child, he still bears the Clinton surname and has a family trust fund, overseas assets, and a safety net.

Even if Texas descends into chaos, he can still board a private jet and go to Switzerland, Singapore, or any safe place.

Therefore, "I disagree."

Ellis said the voice returned to calm.

What does it matter to him whether he lives or dies?

He's just here for a meeting; after the meeting, he has to attend a charity gala and meet with several art dealers from New York.

"Our Lone Star Republic is independent, why should we follow that Milk Dragon President?"

He went straight to the biggest political correctness issue in Texas.

Texas was historically an independent republic, and when it joined the Union, it retained special rights, including the right to hold a referendum on independence under certain circumstances.

This is a symbol that all Texas politicians will use, regardless of what they really think.

Discussions immediately broke out in the conference room.

"Ellis is right, we Texas have our own traditions."

"But tradition can't put food on the table."

"If we don't take sides, both sides could attack us."

"We can remain armed and neutral."

"Neutrition requires strength; do we have it?"

The argument lasted for five minutes.

Jade didn't interrupt, but listened quietly, occasionally jotting down a few words in his notebook.

He spoke again only after his voice gradually faded.

"Everyone."

Everyone looked at him.

"I am not proposing to immediately declare annexation to the Union, nor am I saying that Texas should relinquish its autonomy."

Jade said, his tone softening somewhat.

"I am proposing that we take the initiative to engage with Washington, express our willingness to cooperate, and strive to gain a favorable position in the new order of the future."

He looked at Ellis.

"Mr. Clinton, I understand your concern about losing your independence."

"But I want to ask, if we don't take the initiative to make contact, and wait until President Milk Dragon and Carl Jensen finish their fight, and until Lucien Oldent and the Alexander family have settled their score."

"How will the victor treat Texas, which has been observing, hesitating, and failing to take a stand?"

Ellis did not answer.

"They will treat us as spoils of war, threats, or trouble."

Jade answered it himself.

"They will send troops, take over our oil fields and factories, forcibly install black boxes on our land, and then tell us: obey, or die."

He paused.

"I don't want to regret it when that time comes."

The meeting room fell silent again.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the setting sun bathed the buildings in downtown Austin in an orange-red hue.

The recorder glanced at his watch and whispered a reminder: "Everyone, the next meeting will start in twenty minutes."

Let's vote.

The elderly councilor, sitting at the end of the long table, spoke, his voice hoarse.

He is the chairman of the conference, the pro tempore of the Texas Senate, 82 years old, and has experienced the Cold War, the Gulf War, the financial crisis, and now he is going through this.

"Raise your hand if you agree to take the initiative to contact Washington and express your willingness to cooperate."

Jed was the first to raise his hand.

Next came two state legislators and one official.

Then came two other members of parliament.

Six votes.

"I object."

Ellis raised his hand.

The other two officials hesitated for a moment, then also raised their hands.

Three votes.

"Those who abstained."

nobody.

"Six to three, passed."