Chương 136: Departure from Washington

Two days later, Arthur's strategy achieved an astonishing effect, one could even say it had a social tsunami-like impact.

"The Courage to Face the Morning" not only made it to the front page of the New York Herald, but was also reprinted by more than 400 local newspapers in over 30 states.

Inside the Justice Department building in Washington, D. C., the agent, holding a newspaper with the article printed on it, reported to Hoover with a puzzled look: "Sir, Arthur Kennedy has published a new article. But we can't find any subversive propaganda in it. There's no attack on the government whatsoever, it's even—it's even somewhat exhilarating to read?"

"Our sources in Chicago reported that many workers who were preparing to march and protest calmed down after reading this article and went out to look for odd jobs."

Hoover looked at the newspaper, his face ashen.

He felt like he had punched a ball of cotton.

These purely inspirational short articles are not within the scope of the Investigation Bureau's crackdown.

If he forcibly bans articles that teach people to be good, he will be condemned as a madman by the entire American public.

Across the United States, this essay has had a miraculous healing effect.

In Detroit, a near-bankrupt auto parts dealer, after reading the article, cut it out and pasted it on the empty gate of his factory, then went to the docks and carried sandbags.

In Ohio, a desperate mother abandoned her suicide attempt by turning on the gas with her child, and inspired by the article, learned to "live in today's completely independent world."

Readers across the United States began frantically buying newspapers that published the article.

It became a super anesthetic and stimulant to soothe the pain of the Great Depression.

On the morning of the fourth day, the Scranton postman rode his bicycle and delivered a thick stack of manila envelopes to St. Peter's Church.

Father Els opened the envelope and was so shocked he couldn't speak.

It was filled with U. S. Postal money orders from New York, ranging in denominations from ten to one hundred dollars.

This is just the first batch of copyright fees Isabella has received in just a few days, with a total value exceeding five thousand dollars!

With these money orders that could be exchanged for brand-new cash at the local post office at any time, Arthur completely broke the economic blockade imposed by Washington.

He immediately went to the post office and exchanged three thousand dollars in cash.

He made a large-scale purchase, buying two whole truckloads of flour, dried potatoes, strong whiskey, and first-aid medicines, as well as thousands of tin stoves, and handed them all over to Father Els, which basically solved the survival crisis of the miners' tent area that winter.

Arthur then had his pickup truck repaired, filled with the highest octane gasoline, and stocked up on enough fuel in three spare fuel cans in the back of the truck.

"Arthur, may God bless your journey."

Father Els stood at the church entrance, looking at the brand-new pickup truck, his heart filled with blessings.

"Father, take good care of them. The real storm is yet to come."

Arthur put on leather gloves, opened the car door, and drove the pickup truck away from Scranton, heading south along the snow-covered road.

He decided to go to Washington, D. C. first.

Since someone has begun to secretly target him with the help of the federal government, he must go to the heart of the country's power and seek a political balance that will allow him to safely cross the American continent.

A Ford pickup truck speeds along a desolate highway in southern Pennsylvania.

Four hours after leaving Scranton, a vast and awe-inspiring industrial ruin appeared on the horizon ahead.

This is Bethlehem, a heavy industrial city once known as the "steel heart of America".

- Ten years ago, the steel mills here spewed flames day and night, providing a steady stream of steel for New York's skyscrapers and the transcontinental railroad network.

But now, what Arthur sees is a "steel graveyard" that is completely dead.

The pickup truck drove onto the road outside the factory area.

The main plant, stretching for miles, stood silently in the wind and snow, its hundreds of massive blast furnace chimneys pointing straight to the gray sky, yet not a single wisp of smoke drifted out.

Arthur parked the car next to an abandoned railway marshalling yard.

Hundreds of homeless steelworkers and their families have moved into abandoned freight train carriages that are now rusted and lying on the tracks.

Even worse, some people cleaned out the bottom of abandoned steelmaking blast furnaces, sealed the entrances with sheet metal, and huddled together in the cold furnace chamber where molten steel had once been melted at thousands of degrees.

This is the cruelest legacy left behind after the ebb of capitalist industrialization's prosperity.

He stayed here for one night.

After bidding farewell to the steel graveyard, Arthur continued driving south.

Finally, in the evening, the Ford pickup truck crossed the border of Washington, D. C.

The view ahead suddenly opened up. In stark contrast to the coal dust of Scranton and the rust of Bethlehem, Washington presented a dazzling and magnificent spectacle.

The wide, tree-lined avenue was spotless, without a trace of snow.

In the distance, the massive white dome of the Capitol Building gleamed with a sacred light under the setting sun.

The Washington Monument stands like a sword piercing the sky.

Luxury cars cruised smoothly along the asphalt streets, while ladies in expensive furs and politicians in suits clinked glasses behind the windows of upscale restaurants.

However, just a few miles from this magnificent marble marvel on the banks of the Anacostia River, Arthur saw a completely different sight.

It was a huge, suffocating shantytown.

Thousands of veterans and bankrupts built miles of slums using cardboard, scrap wood, and rusty car shells.

Sewage flowed across the muddy streets, and the cold wind carried the sounds of desperate coughs and the faint cries of children.

On one side lies power and luxury high above the clouds, on the other, hunger and death mired in the mire. An invisible line divides America into two separate worlds.

Arthur drove his pickup truck slowly through this strikingly contrasting area, heading towards the upscale residential area in the northwest of the Special Administrative Region.

Arthur parked his muddy and scratched Ford pickup truck in front of a heavily guarded, classically styled red-brick mansion.

The guard at the gate initially intended to shoo him away, but after Arthur handed him an invitation, the guard's expression immediately became extremely respectful, and he opened the heavy wrought iron gate.

Arthur straightened his black coat and strode up the steps.

He was about to visit one of the highest symbols of law and power in the country, and also an elder relative of the Harrison family, a family with a long-standing friendship.

Former U. S. President and Chief Justice of the U. S. Supreme Court, William Howard Taft.