OR1-EP4: Prelude to the Millennium (4)

The weather in the southern hemisphere continues to get colder as we enter May, and hurried passersby are always wrapped in thick coats. Although the climate is not very suitable for outdoor sports, the number of people taking part in demonstrations and protests has instead become more numerous, which has made South Africa's law and order deteriorate. While the police are fully occupied with these protesters, they don't have the energy to deal with the tedious small-scale criminal activities, robberies and thefts have gone unchallenged, and the victims are left to fend for themselves. Despite all of South Africa's shortcomings, there has been no clear expression of opposition to Governor-general Herzog's initiative from Paris thus far.

There are only two kinds of people on the streets of South Africa: those who are taking part in or stopping the protests, and those who have nothing to do with the protests. These dedicated social activists try to rope in every passerby who passes by the queue to join them, while the passersby who are only worried about their jobs are never interested in these activities. Michael McNeil has to do more than just turn down these invitations, he has to prevent the suspicious social activists from seeing anything in them.

McNeil was dressed in a smart suit and was followed by four equally suited black men. They were leaving the main highway and heading to a nearby residential area to look for the family of one of the deceased. It was McNeil's own idea that he was bound to accomplish this task himself. Before he had traveled to the Britannian Empire, Governor-general Herzog had indicated to him that the staff of this foundation would take over for McNeil in dealing with the follow-up issues related to the pensions. At that time, McNeil was full of thoughts about how to quickly adapt to the environment and complete his mission after arriving in the Britannian Empire, so he agreed to the Governor-general's handling of the matter. However, when he returned from the Empire, what he saw and heard along the way made him more and more uneasy with his conscience, all of which finally made McNeil decide to take over the job himself.

Created by Francois Malcal, the foundation itself only existed to cover up the flow of pension funds, with the aim of making it impossible for outsiders to find out any clues related to the fierce battles taking place in the north. Years of living in peace had naturally instilled a savior mentality in the citizens of the EU, and when they saw the natives living in Africa mired in heavy slavery and poverty, the goodness of their humanity prompted them to dissent. However, most people do not know how to solve problems, and those who do have the ability to solve problems have no reason, I am afraid, to voluntarily come forward to jeopardize their own interests. Governor-general Herzog has often said that most of the social problems in South Africa are just pawns in a game played by various parties in South Africa and even in the EU itself, and that no one really cares about these topics.

A significant portion of the Foundation's staff was indigenous, and McNeil selected four burly black men to put on suits and join him in visiting the families of the dead. Before he left, he made a point of going to Adalbert to ask about the families' reactions some time ago.

"It's hard for me to give an answer when you ask so cursorily." Adalbert was dealing with a brawl within the defense forces at the time, "Everyone reacts differently. Some will break down on the spot, while others will be outwardly unperturbed, and when we close the door, it will be time to point at the Governor-general's nose and curse away."

"Actually, the Governor-general himself should listen to the kind of mean-spirited language those people use to attack him." McNeil scratched his head, "Besides, I'm curious as to how he's keeping the press quiet. Despite the lack of explicit speech regulation in those new orders, he's managed to accomplish that."

"It's a technical endeavor, and one that the average person can't do." Adalbert smiled, although he didn't want to live off his father's power, he still took heartfelt pleasure whenever outsiders complimented him on his father's ability to do certain things that were beyond the norm, "As you can see, there are only eight newspapers in South Africa that can legally come to the marketplace and be purchased by the public right now. Roughly dictating who can and cannot speak is sure to usher in a boycott. But if it is some business that is suspected of economic crime or the editor-in-chief is involved in a suspected murder, then even the most pro-freedom and pro-humanity citizen must recognize that it is time for them to be investigated and drop whatever they are doing ..."

McNeil felt some fear. In essence, this tactic was no different from the approach taken by the Britannian nobility when cracking down on their opponents, except that the latter was more blunt and less concerned with the law. Jacob Herzog was an old-fashioned politician who would not allow any of his actions to become a handle in the hands of his political opponents. The world assumed that Herzog's power was bestowed upon him by his position as Governor-general, not realizing that some people's greatest power will always come from places that are often unseen.

"Nice shoot." McNeil whispered.

"Yes, very useful." Adalbert laughed out loud, "Except that such tactics don't come in handy over in Europe. His opponents are better at these practices than he is, and His Excellency wouldn't have been driven out of Europe by someone else if he had learned that years earlier."

In this way, according to Adalbert's view, his father had to flee to Africa after he had offended others and been side-tracked by the litigants using dishonorable means. After arriving in Africa, Governor-general Herzog realized that the only way to fight his enemies was to use the same methods as they used.

The old Herzog also likes those collectible antiques, while Adalbert, who was born in the army, could not see those artifacts that would only lure others into corruption. In Major Herzog's eyes, the most valuable Oriental vase was nothing more than a vase, and the same was true of other collectibles and luxuries. McNeil's offer to pick out a few pieces from his own collection that he had shipped back to the EU and give them to Adalbert was refused by the Major himself. The Major said he wasn't short of money and wasn't interested in drumming up unused junk.

"That's why you can't mix with high society." McNeil teased the other man.

"I'd rather be a commoner, so it's good to get a taste of what it's like to be a human instead of a devil."

After saying goodbye to Adalbert, McNeil went off with a few of his native assistants to distribute the pensions. Their job was to go door-to-door to find the families of those who had died, and then to inform them of the facts in a tone that was as soothing as possible to the families, and to persuade them to keep quiet - at least for the time being - after accepting the pensions. Public opinion in South Africa was currently so unfavorable to Herzog's rule that it had pushed the wily Governor-general to the point where he was forced to use speech control, and McNeil shuddered to think how the public would react to the series of events in Rhodesia coming to light.

The group walked down the street with ease, looking no different from the office workers rushing to work.

"Remember, don't say the kind of things that can cause offense or sadness." McNeil whispered to instruct these staff members, "Just talk along with the others, it's not our turn to deal with other issues, that's the Governor-general's Office's job."

A hundred thousand or so euros for a life seemed like a good deal, even McNeil himself thought so. Based on value for money alone, a career like mercenary was not only free of freedom, it was also extremely risky, with many receiving gains out of all proportion to the risks they took. If McNeil was given a chance, he would do the same. Things that could be taken care of with money were often the easiest, and those that couldn't be solved with money were the truly deadly troubles.

They arrived near a detached house according to the address they had left beforehand. McNeil and the Native assistants walked into the garden and saw a lawnmower parked on the side lawn. He boldly walked towards the front door and rang the bell. Soon afterward, a medium-sized old woman opened the door and looked suspiciously at the uninvited and unwelcome guests before her.

Michael McNeil walked straight into the house, motioning for the four Negroes behind him to follow him in, and then saluted the overwhelmed old lady:

"Greetings, ma'am, I am a representative of the Government of South Africa. Your son has been tragically killed in a military operation in Rhodesia, and on behalf of the Governor-general General's Office and the Veterans Affairs and Disability Relief Agency, I would like to apologize to ..."

McNeil was inwardly nervous as hell, having considered all possibilities beforehand, even if the victim's family had deservedly rushed up to beat him up violently. However, after he had finished reading his prepared lines in rapid succession, he only saw the old woman's eyes roll back in her head and she fell to the ground without a sound. The crowd was horrified and each came forward to observe, while someone dialed the emergency number.

McNeil stood frozen in place, letting the four black assistants go about their business.

"What did I do wrong?" He asked the black man standing beside him who was making the call like a fool.

"You did nothing wrong, milord." The assistant shrugged, "We've seen this several times before ... the family members were probably in shock and fainted on the spot. Don't worry, it's not your responsibility, and maybe we'll waste a lot of time on the aftermath, but maybe they won't break the news."

The ambulance was always late, well this time it wasn't too late. Five minutes later, the ambulance, which had arrived quickly on the scene, took the unconscious old lady away, leaving a disoriented McNeil and his assistants to be investigated. Luckily, they had the protection of the Governor-general and were cleared of any suspicion of burglary. After this change of heart, McNeil is a bit timid, he is afraid to face the families - although those who died were in fact only the executioner of the massacre of the natives, and their families are after all ordinary citizens who suffer the fruits of their suffering.

"All are executioners, no one is innocent ... everyone is guilty." McNeil thought this, intending to go to the next location. The expressions of these black assistants were indifferent, as if what happened in the party was already commonplace for them.

"What did you guys used to do? Where did you work?" McNeil chatted with them casually, the red light still on at the next intersection.

"Funeral home." One of the black men replied, "We used to plan funerals."

"So, you guys are pretty experienced?" McNeil raised a hint of interest, he was about to ask about it in detail when the red light suddenly turned green, so he walked away while chatting with these black assistants, "Honestly, in my opinion, it's hard to keep myself from being infected by this kind of sadness, especially after having experienced tragedy firsthand myself."

The blacks were about to reply when the crowd noticed a parade heading toward them at the other end of the road. McNeil had seen all sorts of processions in the last few days, and he was not surprised. However, he couldn't remain calm when he saw the words on those cardboards in the parade.

Set up an investigative body to deal with the Rhodesian massacre.

He reflexively took a few steps backward and ducked into a roadside store. He had never flinched when facing the enemy's gunfire, but today he was a bit cowed instead - this was not the first time he felt weak today.

"What's going on?" He asked the blacks, pointing to the parade passing by the window.

"I don't know, it can't be that the events in Rhodesia have been leaked."

The crowd was in a dilemma, so it was decided that one of them would first call the Governor-general's office, but the call went unanswered. By the time it was five in the afternoon, someone finally answered the phone, however the guy on the other side was not the Governor-general, but the cleaner of the Governor-general's residence.

"Damn it, it's Governor-general Herzog we're looking for." McNeil took the phone in a hurry and cracked, "Where is His Excellency? We have an emergency to report here."

"I'm not sure, His Excellency has been away since this morning."

The crowd looked at each other, they all agreed that the information must have leaked and no one wanted to take the blame. Neither McNeil nor the four negro assistants believed that anyone could have detected anything unusual in their movements. After a short discussion, they decided to continue their search for the family of the deceased as planned, while waiting for notification from the Governor-general's Office.

They did not wait for notification. At about 7:00 p.m., the group that had slipped into another mall to pick up expired food for dinner saw the special program on television, which was now known to all. The host, in an incredibly somber tone, explained the tragedy that had occurred in the Rhodesian region a few months earlier and pointed out that the deaths of the thousands of natives must have been directly related to the military. Listening to the spat of the citizens on the sidelines, McNeil was only surprised. Since Governor-general Herzog had complete control over the media in South Africa, there was no way he would allow this kind of program to be legally aired, unless there was someone secretly doing something worse, or the Governor-general himself was planning to test the attitudes of the outside world.

"What do we do?"

Four black assistants surrounded McNeil, not moving an inch. McNeil was the Governor-general's man, and he was the only one of the five who could possibly set the difficulty right. If McNeil was at his wit's end, they would have to sit on their hands.

"We have to finish our work." McNeil said seriously, "We can't let them die in vain. I know that after today, the media will say that these people are the Governor-general's thugs and butchers ... But I know that they are just ordinary people who want to make money, and it is not the Governor-general who turned them into butchers, it is this living hell world. I'm sorry, maybe you won't agree with me."

He looked at the check in his hand as if those young hearts continued to beat around him.

TBC

Chapter Notes:

As the only republic among the three superpowers, and a country that has inherited the legacy of the Age of Enlightenment and the French Revolution, the EU is justified in propagating more humanism.

But in fact the racial discrimination problem in the EU remains serious even 20 years later in the year 2018 of the A.T.B. calendar, as evidenced by what happened to the Japanese.