Chapter 489: The Sleepers — The Great Depression! A False Victory Celebration!
This time, alongside Paul on the mission were Agent K from the Blade Runner universe, as well as Agent Leon from the Resident Evil multiverse, together with his old partner, Luke Skywalker.
Faced with the harsh conditions before them, they remained remarkably calm. After all, these seasoned veterans had traveled through countless universes and alien worlds—there was little they had not seen.
This level of hardship was nothing at all.
"This is the outskirts of the city. The urban district is 13 kilometers away. Let's head there and see what the situation is."
Using AI drone reconnaissance, Paul studied the map before making his decision.
At once, the transforming starship shifted into an ordinary car and drove toward the city. Here, they could not afford to parade through in a spaceship.
A car was undoubtedly the best cover.
On their way into the city, Paul and his teammates kept silent. Unless absolutely necessary, they communicated only through eye contact.
Because from this point onward, each of them would be exposed to Trisolaran sophon surveillance.
From the moment they entered Earth's domain, they had already fallen under Trisolaran watch. Every word and action would be laid bare before their eyes.
The transforming car sped across the desolate wasteland, kicking up dust that trailed behind them like a long tail. Only as they neared the urban area did they occasionally spot other passing vehicles.
These vehicles varied in form, but most had sunshade-like panels fixed to their roofs—clearly, solar-powered cars had become the standard in this Trisolaran-controlled human world.
With energy depleted and scarce, humanity had been forced to adopt cleaner, more convenient power sources. Electric cars had naturally become the trend.
Soon enough, their transforming starship also morphed a sunshade panel and blended smoothly into the traffic flow heading toward the city.
Before long, they reached a corner of the city. Yet the streets here looked strikingly desolate. Graffiti covered the walls, chaotic and glaring, like a vagabond quarter in a cyberpunk world.
It made sense. Humanity, in its present state, was only barely mustering the will to endure amid despair. Without some outlet of indulgence, how else could people release their inner suffocation?
Everyone understood the necessity of defeating the Trisolarans. But everyone also had to cling to a steel-printed thought pattern of false confidence in humanity's ultimate victory.
Otherwise, the human world would collapse without a fight.
Venturing deeper into the neighborhood, Paul noted that the clusters of buildings resembled Detroit's slums: old, run-down housing blocks, filthy streets, chaotic graffiti.
Drug addicts and idle street thugs loitered everywhere.
For a moment, Agent K thought he had returned to his own universe. Cyberpunk cities were always steeped in confusion and despair.
The people here were no different.
Paul intended to stay and gather intelligence, but the moment they stepped out of the car—before they even had a chance to get a clear look around—a group of strangers rushed out from a dark alley and surrounded them.
"Stop right there! Don't move!"
A harsh shout rang out.
Paul turned to see a mob of deranged-looking thugs in blue-and-white hospital gowns, wielding firearms and glaring at them with manic, exhausted eyes, as though harboring some mortal grudge.
But Paul could be absolutely certain—they had never met before, let alone crossed paths. As newcomers, they had no reason to attract such hostility.
Agent K studied the weapons in the mob's hands. They looked like makeshift laser guns. The only thing he could determine for certain was that these were not professional killers or bandits.
The trembling hands clutching their weapons made that obvious. Clearly, this was their first attempt at such a thing.
"If it's money you want, I can pay. But you'll have to let us walk away."
Paul also realized they were amateurs. He could have easily taken them down in seconds, but with the mission at stake, he had no intention of exposing himself.
If a payoff could solve the problem, all the better.
But just as Paul was about to pull out some gold, two patrol officers appeared. They drew their pistols, trying to bring the chaos under control.
"Hey! Put the guns down—don't make any sudden moves!"
Faced with so many armed thugs in hospital gowns, the two officers were tense, unsure which asylum these lunatics had escaped from to commit such a brazen daylight robbery.
Since the onset of the Crisis Era, every government and nation had poured their resources into building space warships, leaving domestic law enforcement to rot.
Outside of critical core city zones, violence in outlying districts was largely ignored.
But instead of retreating, the lead thug actually shouted with glee: "Officers! We've found these ETO traitor scum!"
The so-called ETO—Earth-Trisolaris Organization—were the human collaborators from over two centuries ago, the Trisolarans' lackeys. Their infamous slogan: Down with human tyranny! The world belongs to Trisolaris!
But Paul and the others had only just arrived. They didn't know anyone here. How could they possibly be mistaken for ETO remnants?
Seeing their hospital gowns and crazed expressions, both the officers and Paul assumed these were delusional psychiatric patients.
"Don't talk nonsense. The ETO disappeared more than a century ago. Which hospital are you from? I'll take you back right now."
The officers edged closer, cautiously trying to persuade the dangerous patients to lower their weapons.
But when the thugs saw their claims dismissed, their expressions grew even more frenzied. "Bullshit! I saw the Lord's revelation! They're Trisolaran spies!"
As he shouted, one of them pulled the trigger. The shot missed.
Paul, acting on reflex, kicked the weapon out of the man's hand. In just a few moves, he had put the frail, half-crazed mob flat on the ground. The entire exchange lasted only two or three seconds.
The officers stood dumbfounded. What they had just witnessed looked like a scene straight from a superhero film—played out live before their eyes.
Moments ago, the gun-wielding thugs had seemed so threatening. Now they lay on the ground, wailing in agony, clutching broken limbs and screaming in pain.
For someone like Paul, taking down these fragile lunatics was no challenge at all.
But now, seeing Paul's terrifying skill, the officers decided he was the truly dangerous one. While calling for reinforcements, they ordered him to step back and put down any weapons.
Paul and his team complied fully, easing the officers' nerves at last. Only when more backup arrived and the deranged mob was hauled away in shackles did the officers finally begin proper communication with Paul.
"Sir, you've got some pretty impressive skills. Now, you'll need to come with us back to the police station for questioning—your friends too."
The officer, hardened by years working in dangerous neighborhoods, had trained himself to keep sharp eyes. He could tell Paul, Agent K, and the others were more like operatives from some special agency.
Maybe they were from Fleet International, maybe Earth International—either way, they weren't people he could afford to provoke. Best to ask a few questions, then quietly let them go.
Still, procedure was procedure. They had to be brought back to the station first.
Paul cooperated fully. If anything went wrong at the station, a few cops certainly wouldn't be able to stop them.
Seeing Paul's group so calm and fearless in their cooperation, the police became even more convinced they were operatives from some secret agency—probably here on a mission. In that case, they were half "family."
"You guys are a little too good, like something out of a movie," the officer joked lightly, waving off his colleague who was about to cuff them.
"I won't pry into where you're from, but procedures still have to be followed. I hope you'll understand."
Paul simply nodded, then pressed further: "What's the deal with those lunatics? Why did they attack us? What did they mean by 'Lord'? Trisolarans?"
There had to be a reason. Paul didn't believe he'd just randomly run into a bunch of escaped asylum patients. That was a bit too much of a coincidence.
The officer remained calm, as if it were an everyday matter. Lighting a cigarette, he exhaled smoke with a sigh.
"They're all hibernators who lived through the Great Depression era. The early Crisis Epoch was an extremely unstable time. Back then, people suspected everyone of being an ETO spy."
"Now that these hibernators have woken up, they've probably developed PTSD. Add in some half-baked belief in strange religions, and it's easy for them to act out like that."
The Great Depression period was an early stage of the Crisis Epoch. Once humanity learned of the approaching Trisolaran fleet, governments launched the Wallfacer Project, built space fleets, and carried out sweeping measures.
Civilian economies collapsed. Supplies were rationed strictly for Wallfacers and the space fleet.
And both projects required enormous resources. Excessive mining and unchecked industrial expansion wrecked the ecosystem.
Climate shifted violently. Famines and plagues followed. Hedonism and radical religious movements swept through society.
With natural disasters compounded by human ones, the population plummeted from a peak of 8.3 billion down to 3.5 billion.
Two centuries later, humanity's numbers still hadn't recovered. In fact, they were still shrinking.
Those hibernators who had gone to sleep with hope for the future awoke to find no better world waiting.
If the Great Depression era had been a pot of boiling water, scalding and unbearable for those who couldn't face the end of the world—
Then the present was that same pot cooled down, but now only a lifeless abyss.
The media constantly spewed empty promises: once humanity defeated the Trisolarans, a glorious new age would come.
But for most ordinary people, even surviving the present took immense courage. Where would they find the strength to fight an alien invader?
"There are all kinds of weird religions around here. People believe in anything. That group probably got sucked into one of them—no wonder they acted so deranged."
The officer shrugged, quickly finished his cigarette, and ground it out under his heel.
Paul wasn't convinced. Even if those hibernators really were mentally unstable—why target his group specifically?
More importantly, they had uttered the word "Lord." What if that was the Trisolarans, using sophons to interfere with the minds of these lunatics? The chances weren't low.
Still, doubts aside, cooperation was necessary. Paul and the others followed the police back to the station.
Proving their identities was a hassle, especially for operatives of The Megacorp. Fortunately, their onboard AI, the Red Queen, quickly hacked the police systems and fabricated the necessary documents.
"As expected. Looks like we're all family after all."
Seeing the data onscreen, the officer nodded. Most of the key details were deliberately hidden—he could only see the fakes.
"Sorry to have delayed your mission."
He saluted Paul's group. The files showed them as Fleet International agents, here on an investigation.
Paul returned the gesture with a silent nod.
"We've also confirmed the identities of those attackers. Nothing suspicious about them. The weapons were black-market buys. This isn't like other regions—some shady dealings are just impossible to stamp out."
"Normally, those hibernators just stick together and look after each other. They rarely attack anyone. Things are much better in the underground city—there's tighter surveillance and safer law and order."
"Underground city? There's one here?" Paul asked curiously.
"Of course. Most people live down there now. Only hibernators who can't adapt to underground life stay up here."
The officer explained.
On the surface, the city's buildings were falling apart. Many neighborhoods were unsafe, public facilities decades out of date—some even over a century old.
But funding was scarce. What little was available had to go into maintaining the underground city. Who had time to care about the hibernators stuck above?
"Are you sure those lunatics really are just mentally ill? Why did they attack us?" Agent Leon pressed further.
They needed to know who was pulling the strings.
"Their statements were all over the place. Some said you were planting bombs, others that you were flashing ETO hand signals, still others that you were secretly contacting Trisolarans."
The officer waved it off. In cases like this, it was just bad luck running into unstable hibernators.
But Paul was already sure. This wasn't random madness—sophons had tampered with their minds, driving them to attack strangers at any cost.
The Trisolaran civilization had already set its sights on them.
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