"At a time like this, you can't expect Mr. President to have enough patience to listen to the nagging of a chief editor."
Wood paused, lit the slender cigarette between his fingers, shook his head, and said, "Even the Post and several other newspapers with a clear background have now withdrawn their tentacles under the pressure of the public. The voices we can make, or the power these voices can convey, may not be enough for the government to show enough respect."
"Maybe so."
Chief Editor Bob fastened the collar of his windbreaker and walked side by side with Wood to the newspaper office. However, just as they turned the corner and were still a few hundred meters away from the newspaper office, they were forced to stop.
"Gentlemen, please don't go there."
Dark yellow police lines blocked both ends of the street. Dozens of policemen anxiously shouted and blocked the crowd. Fortunately, today's demonstration had dispersed. Otherwise, with just these people and a few thin yellow police lines, it was absolutely impossible to maintain order at the scene.
Chief Editor Bob looked at the burning newspaper office building hundreds of meters away. His pupils shrank sharply, and the thick cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground with a bang, making a few sparks.
Wood opened his mouth in shock, stared at the building where he usually worked, stared at the terrible flames floating out of the windows, and trembled with anger. He pushed the policemen in front of him and roared, "Let us go! There are still people in the newspaper office! "
"Mr. Reporter, the staff in the newspaper office building have been safely evacuated." The policeman who maintained order guessed the identity of the two middle-aged men, and his attitude was slightly gentler. He explained, "Except for a few slightly burned staff members who are under observation in the Fourth Hospital, no one was injured."
Hearing that his colleagues in the newspaper office were safe, Wood's shock and worry eased a lot, and his angry movements subconsciously stopped. He stared at the newspaper office building in the distance, which was burning miserably like a giant torch, and subconsciously grabbed his hair in pain and murmured in a trembling voice, "What the hell is going on! What the hell is going on! "
Chief Editor Bob looked at the building where he had been working since he graduated from journalism school. He pursed his lips tightly and did not say a word.
The building was burning, turning into a charred ruin. The fierce fire seemed to be burning away the passion of his youth, the persistence of his middle age, and his original view of the world. This kind of burning in the depths of his heart should be an extremely painful thing, but there was not much expression on his face. Gradually, even the anger disappeared, and there was only calmness and even indifference.
Bob still felt that he couldn't see clearly enough. He couldn't see clearly enough. He couldn't see the scene of the death of something precious in his heart. He slowly took out a pair of glasses from the inside pocket of his windbreaker and put them on.
"A big fire can burn everything, including the secret database that we are so proud of."
Red, yellow, and black flames were reflected on the spectacles. Bob's cold eyes penetrated the spectacles and looked at the burning building. He suddenly said faintly.
Wood's body suddenly stiffened as he stared at the side of his face in disbelief. If this fire was not an accident, then who dared to burn the most credible news agency of the Federation into ruins? Was it really the government?
"Medellin is dead, and Pabre won the election. I thought the world had changed a lot."
Mr. Reporter, who was known for his fearless spirit and his ability to entertain the paparazzi, remembered the Medellin case investigation that had won him the Nebula Award for Best Documentary Reporting. He painfully frowned and looked at the building that was getting bigger and bigger. He said in a hoarse and angry voice, "In the end, nothing has changed! Could it be that those people want to break my leg again? Or are they going to kill us?! "
"The fire is an action and a warning. Although it is difficult to kill two famous reporters of the Federation and then disguise it as an accident, I believe that if we continue, such a tragic ending will definitely be waiting for us not far away."
Chief Editor Bob said expressionlessly. Then he lowered his head and looked at the thick tobacco that was struggling to survive in the autumn wind. He said, "I am very disappointed with all of this."
Wood's eyes became sharp and hot. He stared at the flames that were spreading outside the building in the distance. He looked at the busy police in front of him and the fire ladder truck that was obviously late. He lowered his voice and said fiercely, "I want to go in and grab that information. The memory is not necessarily damaged by the fire."
"Before the fire, all of the memory must have been destroyed." Bob stopped his companion's courageous and adventurous, but obviously stupid and impulsive idea. He said calmly, "But fortunately, I have made a backup in advance."
Wood was stunned. He patted the Chief Editor's shoulder that was not very strong. He smiled awkwardly, but did not laugh out loud. He said in a hoarse voice, "Good job … What should we do next?"
"The most important problem we face is what to do about tomorrow's newspaper."
Bob rubbed his painful shoulder and said calmly, "I will go to the hospital and the police station at this time. You go and contact the experts in the industry. Rent a few workstations first and work overtime tonight. The fiber paper edition will be suspended for five days, but the electronic edition must be released on time."
"Understood." Wood replied very quickly. Then he frowned and asked in a low voice, "Start the report tomorrow? I have already written a part of it. The title is also chosen. It will be called Forever Antique Bell. "
"Too lyrical, but I like it." Chief Editor Bob's tone was particularly serious. He ordered seriously, "But we can't publish it now. Facing such a powerful president and government, I believe that before this report is published, you and I may be robbed and stabbed to death by a street gangster at any time, or be hit by a speeding car again."
"I understand. We need to wait for the right time."
"That's it."
The two of them looked at the burning newspaper building in the distance with a complicated expression across the yellow police line. Then they prepared to leave.
At this time, a large piece of heavy object suddenly fell from the edge of the burning newspaper building. It made an extremely loud muffled sound. Countless sparks and charred pieces of metal splashed everywhere, causing the firefighters on the street to run for cover.
The long period of high temperature caused the piece of metal to lose its original appearance, but Bob and Wood knew very well what it was.
It was the famous logo of the Capital Special District Daily: A half-eclipsed moon.
The Moon Eclipse.
The Moon Eclipse was not one of the two beautiful moons in the night sky of S1. It was the forgotten asteroid in the sky of Eastwood.
Back then, in order to develop the crystal mine resources on Eastwood Planet, the First Republic Federation hid from the management committee occupied by extreme environmentalists and forcibly ordered the Fourth Military Region to use prohibited weapons to blow up the asteroid, changing its orbit and leaving behind an extremely ugly moon eclipse that was riddled with scars.
There was no need to argue about who was right or wrong in history. For the reporters of the Capital Special District Daily News, the image of the eclipse of the moon reminded them of the famous words uttered by their predecessors when they broke through the government's news blackout at all costs.
"Half of the moon has been eclipsed. We need to find out the reason."
Chief Editor Bob and Wood looked at the charred Moon Eclipse image in silence. Their expressions were complicated, and their hearts were heavy. Although it was early autumn, a building was burning not far away. The entire street was occupied by the hot and dry air, but they felt a little cold.
…
…
Xu Le, wearing a hat, stood in the crowd on the street. At this moment, he, like the people around him, seemed to be grabbed by the neck by an invisible hand. He stood on his tiptoes and looked into the distance. This scene looked very interesting. It was like those rich people who could get documents from HTD to raise cats, grabbing the soft skin behind the cat's neck.
The crowd was like many cats who did not know what their owners were thinking. They stared curiously at the burning building, guessing what had happened. Did it have anything to do with the rally in the morning? Did anyone die? How many people died? Would there be a memorial service tomorrow? There were all kinds of questions. The indifferent sadness made people feel that it was not so sincere.
Xu Le left quietly, lit a dry cigarette in the autumn wind, and walked with his head down through the city that was getting darker and darker. He did not think that there was any difference between him and the crowd, but he seemed to be able to vaguely understand what the real masters of the Federation were thinking.
At least he knew that those people wanted to kill him.
These days, he, who had been traveling in the underground world and on the surface, was facing the almost omnipresent pursuit of the Federation government. At the south gate of the botanical garden and outside the walls of the 33 protein meat synthesis factory, he had been attacked several times in a row. The situation was extremely dangerous.
Although the old man still stood on his side in a reserved and uneasy manner, in the face of the Federation government, which had a secondary surveillance network and countless resources, he, who was only one person, was still too weak in the end. Especially recently, the intensity and precision of the government's pursuit made him sensitive enough to smell a trace of danger.
Behind the surveillance cameras on the streets and alleys, there seemed to be a group of very powerful people hidden, and they were trying their best to hunt him down. These people were very professional, but they did not have the bureaucratic inefficiency that was unique to the Federation Investigation Bureau. These people were very professional, but they were not as easy to be careless as the army. Their calculation methods were very meticulous and very targeted.
Yes, targeted.
The continuous attacks and the sense of crisis that was getting closer and closer to death made Xu Le feel that these people understood him very well, and sometimes even more accurately than he did in grasping his combat style and choice of action.
In addition to speculating with interest about the composition of the team, he often thought about President Pabre's conversation in the official residence when he was underground these days. However, today, when he saw the newspaper building burned to a crisp, he realized that he had made a mistake.
If you are not good at thinking, then don't think. If you are used to doing more and saying less, then don't think too much and do too little. Since many people praised him for being good at simplifying complicated things, then after returning from the West Woods, he should not choose the opposite behavior pattern.
In the end, people should still walk the path they are familiar with.
For Xu Le, who was walking on the streets of the capital, what he should do, and what he would do, was to raise the gun in his hand and defend his principles.
…
…
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