Chapter 101: Participating in Politics and Discussing Governance

Cao Chuan had already bought all the equipment in the Old World — eight crates, exactly as Zou Guoqing had originally estimated. Now they were just waiting for the Kiln District to finish preparations, and these eight crates of equipment would light a lighthouse in the New World.

Upon learning that Cao Chuan was ready, the Party meeting made a decision: all two hundred employees who had come with this ship would be thrown into constructing the Kiln District, including the Transmigrators who had come with the ship. As long as their specialty was one of those "once-in-a-lifetime" professions — programming, for example — they would all go to the Kiln District first and pick up a few skills. The Kiln District would definitely need many Kiln Masters in the future; relying solely on those Four Great Pillars of State would never get the job done.

The Army's Light Pole Commanders — officers without soldiers — wept bitterly in the latrine at that moment.

The climax of the Party meeting came with the final decision Xia Xianze announced: effective immediately, the Party Ban was lifted. All groups could begin discussing forms of government. If everything went smoothly, they would strive to establish the nation by early next year.

This was monumental! That evening, the forum exploded with activity, and while QQ seemed calm on the surface, it was anything but. Every moment, people were private messaging. Every moment, people were slipping into certain chat rooms. Others were being pulled into certain rooms. An atmosphere of chaos shrouded the entire Shazhou local network.

Many Transmigrators who normally cared nothing for such matters were swept up in it too, darting in and out of various chat rooms like headless flies, as if failing to conspire with someone about something meant cutting themselves off from the people.

Yet when work began the next day, it was as if nothing had ever happened. A strange flavor hung in the air. Now and then you could see certain people chatting intimately during breaks from work, but the moment you got close, they fell silent...

"No wonder they all got packed off to the Ming Dynasty. Look at that loser act — is this any way to play politics?" Zuo Bin sat on a camp stool, beside him a round tree stump with a few stainless steel teacups and a walkie-talkie resting on it.

This was the Kiln Area Base, and construction was at a tense, frantic peak — human shouts and horse neighs, all-out effort and feverish energy. Yet the earliest completed Drying Kiln work section was, by contrast, calm. The operating procedures had been fully adjusted, the workers had grown skilled, and the Four Great Kiln Masters, after so much grueling labor, could finally sit down after lunch today and drink their tea in peace.

Those words just now had come from Zuo Bin, spokesman of the Four Great Kiln Masters, spoken with feeling as he watched certain Transmigrators who couldn't resist whispering furtively together even during a meal.

"Weren't we packed off to the Ming Dynasty too?"

... Some people just had no idea how to talk. Zuo Bin was used to it.

"Do we go around forming factions and cliques like those idiots?" Zuo Bin said with contempt. "Stand up openly, lay out your ideas, and like-minded people will naturally join you. Look at this bunch — probably watched too many spy dramas. Disgusting!"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

Ever since the Four Great Pillars of State had been exiled to fire kilns, this was basically their mode of conversation. Zuo Bin was slightly better — he could ramble on about anything. The other three were all the strong, silent types; they rarely opened their mouths, and when they did, their words could choke a man dead.

"I dare say this lot has never even taken part in a neighborhood committee election. Hand the future over to these people, and I'd say we're doomed sooner or later!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

"Tonight when I get back I'm setting up a faction. Whoever I don't like the look of, I'll oppose!"

"Good."

"Good."

"Good."

That very evening, the Transmigrators' first group was born on the forum: the Carefree Sect.

The Carefree Sect was led by Zuo Bin. It had no mature political philosophy at the moment; its purpose for existing was simple: to oppose unprofessionalism. It also welcomed people uninterested in politics to join. When there was nothing going on, they could organize a tea gathering and chat about lighthearted topics...

Alright, it was deeply ironic. A bunch of people uninterested in politics turned out to be the most carefree of all, deliberately rushing to register the very first political group's name just to slap the faces of those idiots still busy plotting and scheming.

Yet unexpectedly, six or seven people soon joined the Carefree Sect. That already made it a major group, accounting for one-tenth of the total population.

The common characteristic of this group... faction was: relatively high educational attainment.

Precisely because of their high educational attainment, these people found it somewhat hard to put their skills to use in the Great Ming. What they had studied were either "once-in-a-lifetime" specialties or "see-you-in-the-next-life" specialties, and now they all had to start from scratch. Moreover, these people were generally not very interested in politics. Seeing that there was this tea-and-chat organization, they casually clicked to join and looked for some common ground.

The founding of the "Carefree Sect" woke certain people up as if from a dream. Overnight, the banners of every kind of group were unfurled: the "Deathwish Corps," the "Dingge Faction," the "Imperial Han," the "Freemasons," the "Three Wives Six Concubines Corps" — in short, from the far left to the far right, from would-be ruling parties to soy-sauce bystander cliques, a dazzling array, a vast selection of colors and styles — there was bound to be one that suited you...

And seeing everyone's enthusiasm for participating in politics and discussing governance run so high, Cao Zong felt that the headcount was getting a bit too thin to go around. So he gladly returned to the Old World and sent over, in one batch, the dozen-plus Transmigrators he had accumulated during this period. The various major groups now had their strength bolstered; when it came time to brawl in the future, the scene would likely be a bit more heated.

As Cao Chuan's assets swelled, the plan for recruiting Transmigrators in the Old World had now been upgraded to version 2.0.

Several intermediary companies with considerable reputations in the industry had all been either acquired or invested in by Cao Chuan through offshore shell companies. These companies' recruitment operations were all completely aboveboard: digging trenches in Afghanistan, opening a Chinese restaurant outside the gate of a U. S. military camp in Iraq, delivering takeout through the tunnels in Gaza, and cutting wood in South American Mobile Corps Commander territory.

Was it legal? Of course it was legal. This was all legitimate overseas labor dispatch; the advertisements had all been filed and approved. The only catch was that while on the job, you were liable to be sniped, shelled, or blown up by a suicide bomb.

Were there any takers? Oh, plenty...

As long as the money was right, there was no job in this world that lacked people.

Two models: those who took a high monthly wage were ordinary laborers. These people sent their money back home to support their families and fell under normal management. If their luck held and they didn't die, after working abroad for a year or two, their contracts would expire and they could go home — a win-win with the intermediary company.

The second model: the prepaid model. Only people with no attachments would choose this model. Transmigrators were selected from among these people.

The preliminary procedures were more or less the same for everyone — they all had to sign a series of formal contracts first. But Transmigrators had one extra set of procedures: in front of a lawyer's evidence-recording camera, the Transmigrator and the beneficiary of their death insurance both had to declare that they were relinquishing certain rights, including the right to recover the corpse, before they would receive the large prepayment and the insurance policy.

After this, the selected individuals would be dispatched to the South American rainforest to cut wood — real woodcutting. Only after some time had passed would these people vanish from the Old World.

Transmigration 2.0 was much better than the crude old version from before. The hidden hand behind the scenes would select only a few individuals from a batch of laborers. Everything fell within the framework of the law. The only difference was that the corpse disappeared. There was no helping that — it was a rainforest, not a grove of trees.

The mentality of the 2.0 Transmigrators was also a bit better than that of the earlier veterans. Anyone who had gone woodcutting in the rainforest would fall in love with Dayuan in an instant.