Beneath Huang Xuan's feet was a small drain that was overflowing with murky water. It led downhill, carrying trash along with it. The murky water spread out in all directions.
All around him were crooked, dangerous-looking apartments, huts, and brick houses. Huang Xuan surveyed his surroundings. What he saw reminded him of the aftermath of an earthquake. If there were a couple of dark-skinned children in the area, he would have thought he was in Tang Shan.
"Africa?" Huang Xuan warily asked Rolin.
"We're in the state of Michigan, east of Detroit. Similarity: 91%. We can stay here for about ten days."
"A poverty-stricken area?" Maybe it was more appropriate to say, "Poverty-stricken cave." Huang Xuan reached for the thick leather hat on his head. Inside, he was wearing a small, round cap. The dense metal intertwined with his hair underneath it.
"Yes," Rolin answered in a matter-of-fact way. "However, you should pay attention to the children in front of you. They don't seem to welcome you."
That was only normal. In 1931, the United States of America was going through the Great Depression. More than 20% of people lost their jobs. This problem was more prevalent in cities with cars. Most skilled workers were retrenched. Even though Ford paid his workers $5 a day, the situation remained largely the same.
The weaker people were always the main force of the unemployed army. Detroit's black population was no exception. Although they were not crazy enough to see Asians as their enemies, their hostility was evident from the children's eyes.
In actual fact, nothing Huang Xuan did seemed to be effective in calming the children down. A few black children thought he looked annoying. They slowly walked forward.
"I'd bet that his shoes are worth a dollar," the leader was referring to Huang Xuan's Nike shoes. They were only supported by simple alloys and gold. However, from the outside, his shoes looked sturdy. It was obvious that they were of top quality.
"50 cents," another child guessed. There was a total of five of them. The oldest was probably 15 years old. Then again, perhaps black people matured faster.
Huang Xuan could hear their conversation loud and clear. Had they been in his country, he would have charged over and given the fella a punch. He would have hit him until his eyes swelled. He would have told him that his shoes were worth US$200. However, he was now in a foreign village. Naturally, he was cautious. He looked around once more as if he was being ambushed.
"My advice is to run." Of course, Rolin did not want to consume energy unnecessarily. The energy was consumed at a much higher rate in another plane than in P112.
A few adults stood slightly further away. They did not interfere with the children's advance. There were generally three types of people who lived in this poverty-stricken area: people who wanted to leave, people who have given up on trying to leave, and people who were about to leave. However, regardless of which type of person one was, he had to do his best to find a job each day. Only then would he be able to survive.
Fighting was a pastime here. Huang Xuan only needed to look at the children's rough hands and scarred arms to understand that. Although his body was stronger, the chances of him winning against the five of them were low. After looking to his left and right, he helplessly began to run. Even if he managed to fight off those five children, more would have joined in. The gangs on the American streets have taught him enough — that a .45 caliber Colt could well appear at any time.
"Chase him!" the children shouted. Huang Xuan kept up an even pace and ran 1 km in total. He had been on the border of the poverty-stricken area before; now, he was far away from it.
There was still murky water beneath his feet. He continued running as limestone splashed onto his pant legs.
"Shall we sell some food first?" Huang Xuan asked Rolin out of habit. "Where's the nearest market?"
"Battle Creek is a food distribution center in Detroit. It is also the satellite town outside of Detroit. But I don't think we'll be able to sell enough food."
"Why?" The people whom Huang Xuan had just seen looked hungry. Under these circumstances, they could probably sell the food at a slightly higher price.
Rolin answered, "Because it's the Great Depression. The prices of the agricultural products began to fall two years ago. Food is often even cheaper than transport. Yet, nobody will be able to afford it."
"This is the age where milk is poured into the river?" Huang Xuan remembered a teacher had said before, that some time back, during a financial crisis, capitalist societies poured milk and coffee into the rivers and seas. They also shot their cattle in caves.
"That's right," Rolin's answer left Huang Xuan feeling weak. He'd much rather throw the 15,000 tonnes of wheat into the sea than bring it back with him.
In 1929, just before Wall Street collapsed, the prices of America's agricultural products spiraled downward. It all started with the Soviet wood price war. Following that, Canada's excessive cultivation of wheat sparked the panic. Ultimately, this caused the stock market to crash and the Great Depression to begin.
Simply put, the higher the output, the higher the expenditure, and the more the wealth. However, for the capitalist markets, expenditure remained the same or dropped despite the increase in output. The manufacturers' earnings were thus reduced. When their profit became unpredictable, they shut down their factory. Expenditure further fell, and the crisis became worse.
The reason the economic crisis, which occurred in the '30s, was named the Great Depression had a lot to do with the wild investments which took place in the '20s. Factory owners expanded their production in the hopes of increasing their productivity. They produced so much, yet were disappointed in the end.
The atmosphere of disappointment could be distinctly felt in Detroit. Huang Xuan strolled by a river that flowed through the city. Along the way, he met many homeless and hopeless people. He also came across men who were able-bodied but who had nothing to do.
The Great Depression had been going on for two years now. The pressures of living resulted in starvation and hopelessness. 20th century America in the '80s had an unemployment rate of 12% — half of what it was during the Great Depression. One only needed to hear from an American today to understand how difficult those years were, and how much they suffered.
"If nobody wants food, then what are we going to do?" Huang Xuan seemed to mutter to himself. They had brought mostly agricultural products, and a few crafts meant as gifts. Regardless, both were worth the least in these times.
Rolin said nothing. This proved that he, too, did not know what to do. Huang Xuan sighed. He identified with the unemployed people he saw along the road. If he gained nothing from this trip, he would have nothing left when he returned. And he really meant nothing — not only would he have to throw away all his logistics, but he would also have wasted energy worth millions of dollars. If he didn't count the $300 million he had frozen in the Huang Family Fund, if Huang Xuan wanted to travel to another plane, he would have to begin selling his assets.
Moreover, he couldn't count on the few electrolytic aluminum fields to accumulate enough energy. Furnas itself wasn't established. The amount of energy that could be used was pathetic. He also had to arrange for new deliveries. All of these would take up a considerable amount of time.
Huang Xuan couldn't help but quicken his steps. If Rolin couldn't help him, he had to help himself.
At the end of the 20th century, Detroit reached its peak. It had a population of two million and became one of America's four major cities. As the backbone of the population, the workers here definitely had a certain advantage.
People who watched the NBA would notice that the Detroit Pistons have always been tough. Others referred to them as bench bandits because people from Detroit loved this style. Only bad children were transferred to Detroit, and only bad children were able to remain there.
The roads had an air of aggression. Old men drove in cars with loud horns. When they came up behind slower cars, the white or black man in the car would begin shouting. Sometimes, they even hurled vulgarities.
This city had a completely unique character.
Huang Xuan knew Detroit much better than he did Japan. There was a time when the Huangs were interested in the automobile industry. However, their interest didn't develop into anything more.
In that long year of testing waters, Huang Qunsheng and Zhang Xinyi often talked about the industry over meals. Huang Xuan had heard "Detroit" more than once.
Detroit was in the region of the five Great Lakes. Since it was right along Detroit River, it obviously prospered in its early years. However, the years of industrial development had begun to destroy all of this. Huang Xuan continued to stroll along a stream of dark-coloured water. It smelt strongly of trash. Softly, he said to Rolin, "The headquarters of America's four greatest automobile companies (General Motors, Ford, Chrysler, and Ameriga) are in Detroit, right? Detroit must have the highest automobile production at this time, right?"
"That's right," Rolin confirmed Huang Xuan's guesses.
Huang Xuan shrugged and brushed against two teenagers. He stopped and took a look around. It was only then that he realized that most of the cars on the streets looked awkward.
"This is..." Huang Xuan pointed at one of them.
"A T-type car. It was once the best-selling car in the world. Before they stopped producing it in 1927, Ford's T-type cars alone made up 57% of cars manufactured."
"I know what it is." The T-type car had four tires that looked automatic. It entered into China after the Revolution in 1911. It featured in many films about Shanghai. One could see a bodyguard standing by the door of the T-type car, guarding its doors intently.
The T-type car helped Ford rise to the top of the charts. While other cars were sold for US$3,000 each, the first T-type car was priced at US$850. Until 5 years ago, each T-type car only cost US$260 each. At the time, Ford had already begun paying its workers US$5 a day. In other words, the workers only needed to save two months' salary before they could afford a Ford T-type car. Moreover, that was in 1931, when America was in a quagmire.
Huang Xuan wasn't concerned about the T-type car. In fact, he was trying his best to recall the conversation he had with his mother years ago about Ford. It was at that moment that he realized that storing information in a database was much more useful than storing it in his brain.
"Talk about Ford after the T-type car phase blew over," Huang Xuan had no choice but to consult Rolin. At least he had the guardian with him.
"After Ford stopped producing T-type cars, they spent six months working on the A-type car. The results were not bad. They managed to sell about six million cars. In the '30s, they came up with the V8, a B-type car."
"Right here," Huang Xuan stopped Rolin and punched his left palm with his right fist. "Rolin, we can sell the V8 and VB car technologies to Ford."
"People who sell technologies in plane transactions will normally be stopped. This will greatly reduce the buffer zone's energy. Moreover, the profits are not that great. Usually, people would focus on dealing with materials."
"Didn't killing Napoleon also affect the buffer zone's energy?" Huang Xuan scoffed. He couldn't care less about what Rolin had to say about the profits. As long as there were profits, he was satisfied.
Rolin argued, "We had to do that because of the first principle..."
"OK." Huang Xuan clasped his hands together. He continued, "Forget about your principles. We don't have a base here. We can sell the technology. I'll stand to gain money, and you'll stand to gain energy in the buffer zone. Isn't that great?"