Chapter 4322

"Um... the test results are fine." The doctor said to Clark, "This special powder in your blood will indeed have a certain impact on you, but currently, antibodies are already being generated."

"Antibodies?"

"That's right, this thing isn't any poison; it should be a certain element that exists in the universe itself, it's just that you are allergic to it. If you contact it in small amounts, you will only feel uncomfortable and it won't be fatal."

"Then it doesn't have any other effects?" Clark asked, "Like it can strengthen my body..."

"This hasn't been seen yet; it might be because the time you contacted it was short, or it might be because your body has already been strengthened to the limit that the Earth environment can accept, so subsequent improvements might not be very obvious. However, I still suggest you continue to do desensitization training to prevent others from using this thing to deal with you."

Clark subconsciously said: "Who would be so bad?"

But he quickly thought of Schiller and said: "Okay, I should indeed desensitize as soon as possible. Then what do I need to do?"

"First, I need to get some powder from this gem to prepare medicinal water or drinks. Secondly, you need to continue to wear this gem and adapt to the radiation it causes to you. Finally, you need to exercise more these few days to speed up metabolism so that you can produce antibodies faster."

Clark nodded and said: "Good, I'll go out running tomorrow."

"By the way, don't go back to Metropolis yet; wait until I prepare the medicinal water, maybe you need regular injections. If you go back, it will be very difficult to mail it."

Clark also agreed. He also understood that he was actually using public office for private gain. After all, the gem couldn't be considered his property, but now it had to be used for his desensitization training. This matter shouldn't be spread, so it's better not to spread it out of Los Angeles.

However, fortunately, the federal government was quite generous, responsible for all his hotel and living expenses. But he also needed to give two speeches here to do some publicity.

After leaving the laboratory, the sun was shining brightly outside, palm trees were swaying in the blue sky, and the glass exterior walls of the buildings were shining with brilliant luster. Thinking of the doctor's instructions, Clark decided to run two laps around Los Angeles.

He had been to Los Angeles before, but most of the time it was for business trips, and he could only take a quick look, never having appreciated the streetscape of this city at close range.

The mild climate here made him very comfortable, the sun was warm on his body, and the discomfort was also weakened a lot. The main roads in Los Angeles were quite wide, and the greening was not bad, not as crowded and busy as Metropolis. Clark went sightseeing while running, running more and more energetically.

He ran from noon until sunset, and Clark didn't know where he was now. He wanted to find a corner to take off, but thinking that the dinner at that hotel wasn't good, and he had the federal government to reimburse his food and lodging, he might as well go out to eat.

He circled around, asked for directions several times, and finally found a place with more restaurants, found one that looked not bad, sat down, and prepared to order.

This was a Chinese restaurant, the waiter's attitude wasn't very good, but Clark didn't care. He ordered a portion of fried noodles, a portion of pork with unknown flavor, and a bowl of soup.

Very unsurprisingly, the food was served very slowly, and the kitchen seemed to have only one chef. Clark waited for a long time, a bit anxious, but it wasn't easy to urge. He was bored, so he started listening to the movement next door.

He heard two people with Mexican accents talking.

"Don't say, this is quite good, only need to work 10 hours a day, and can earn more than 1,000 a month, while cucumbers are only two dollars."

"Indeed, this work has no difficulty, compared to training, it's not even as much activity as a warm-up exercise."

"Unfortunately, the boss said we are too strong and won't let us serve food. Heard that serving food has tips, can earn 2,000."

"It's okay, wait until we figure out the language, then change to another shop, definitely better than this one."

"By the way, are you still a bit uncomfortable? Should we go to the hospital to take a look?"

"You're crazy, what can the hospital here see? And we are black households; if we go to the hospital, won't we be caught?"

"That's true. It's okay, maybe we can have a day off in two days, let's go buy some medicine..."

Clark ate this meal with mixed feelings. The portion of the food wasn't actually that big, but by the end, he couldn't eat it anymore. After eating, he gave the waiter some tips and walked to the counter window to chat with the boss in the kitchen.

"... all like this." The boss's English had an accent, and he said, "These illegal workers, no status, no education, we still have to provide food and housing. Working ten hours a day, actually there aren't that many guests, the busiest time is only three or four hours a day. Don't look at only earning 1,000 a month, sending it back to their home, that's a huge sum of money."

"Also, the meal you ate, it only costs 10 dollars in total. If there weren't them helping to wash dishes, I would go and hire those local lazy people who earn two or three thousand, this portion would cost you at least 30. Without immigrants helping to work, you group of people would all starve to death."

Clark sighed long after listening. Kansas is the base camp of local rednecks, and they are very disgusted with illegal immigrants there, and even outsiders aren't welcome. Clark also felt before, why not stay in your own country, why run to someone else's country?

But after reading books, broadening his horizons, especially after becoming a reporter, he also understood that many things couldn't be explained in a few words, and those moral justices couldn't be eaten as food.

From a moral point of view, it's indeed not right to smuggle, but people just can't live locally, and if they don't come over to work, the whole family will starve to death, what can you do?

Just like what this boss said, working 10 hours a day here, with a monthly salary of 1,000 US dollars, converted to their local currency, it might be tens of thousands. If they go home, earning 1,000 local currency might be difficult, so of course they will choose to come over.

Of course, there are also those who live well at home, just because they were fooled, and run over desperately. However, this kind of person is lazy by nature and generally can't do this kind of black work. Those who can wash dishes in the back kitchen of a restaurant are mostly bottom-level people who can endure hardship.

Clark felt this problem was worth discussing. He also knew that in fact, the media had always been discussing the immigration problem, but this group of people was just debating, you scold me, I scold you, and no one had really come to the bottom to see it.

Just like that Egyptian cultural relic called the "Serpent of Frine," when ancient Egyptian civilization is mentioned, everyone praises it, but when asked if this cultural relic actually exists, no one knows, and not a single person went to the British Museum to see it personally.

Before, Clark wanted to write an earth-shattering report, become an independent reporter like Lois, so that he could have the right to speak in the industry and use public opinion to defend his own and the public's interests when necessary.

Would illegal immigration be a good direction?

Clark didn't feel that he could arouse public sympathy by reporting on the lives of bottom-level immigrants, but this was a topic with a lot of topicality. Even if more people scolded him, he wasn't afraid. Other reporters might still worry about the retaliation of those extremist groups; Clark just worried that those extremist groups wouldn't come to retaliate.

Saying do it, Clark first recorded what the boss said. At this time, it was already dark, so he squatted on this street, waiting for the trucks of each shop to arrive, and then he drilled toward the back door of the shop. Because he knew that when these shops were stocking up, these illegal laborers were also coming to move goods, maybe he could run into one or two.

He hid in the street corner sneakily, and sure enough, someone came out soon. He took a step forward to the truck door, pretending to be here to move goods. Anyway, it was dark, no one could see what he looked like, so he chatted with these people while moving.

Most of them were from Mexico, because after all, the two countries were very close, and at this time, the control in the US-Mexico border area wasn't strict, and it had even become an industrial chain. The process was basically walking over, being detained in an immigration prison for two days, and then being released. Those with relatives and friends went to rely on them, and those without were uniformly taken to Los Angeles to do black work.

This group of people was indeed as Clark understood, working very nimbly. When moving goods, those boxes of drinks were piled half as high as a person, and they hugged them and left, and one trip after another, never stopping.

Clark also helped them move, saying he was new and wanted to perform. He also paid out of his own pocket to buy a few iced drinks. After moving the goods, there would be a short free time, and they would lean against the street corner to chat, and Clark also successfully integrated into it. However, the stories of these people were one more heartbreaking than the other.

Some said their little daughter died in a gunfight, some said their wife went out to work and went missing, some said their relatives and friends came to America and starved to death on the street, and some went to test drugs and never returned; anyway, whichever one was taken out was a record of cannibalism in modern society.

Clark sighed after listening. In Kansas, although it was relatively closed and backward, because they were locals, it wasn't difficult to find a meal, and the folk customs were relatively simple.

When he came, he already had many work experiences, and they were all relatively good jobs, and it was relatively easy to find work, and the work at the Daily Planet was even more glamorous. He hadn't contacted any bottom-level people in big cities, and didn't expect it to be like this.

Clark was more and more uncomfortable the more he listened, and couldn't wait to go back and write these things down. But just as he was about to leave, he saw a tall figure holding two boxes of drinks and walking toward the back kitchen.

Humans couldn't see clearly at night, but he was different; he could directly see the internal organs and bones of the human body, and then he found that the internal structure of this big guy seemed to be different from humans.

"Wait a minute," Clark thought of what he said to Diana during the day, "Could this be an alien expert hiding his name among ordinary humans???"

Clark followed him to the back kitchen of that shop, and then found that he was one of the two people who spoke during the day.

No, this alien is living too miserably, I am still a little baby, and I can mediate the three forces, how did this guy mix into the back kitchen of a restaurant to do black work?

Could it be that he came later than me?

Clark thought for a moment, feeling that although he wasn't a character now, he had at least made it out, and he happened to be free recently, so besides writing reports, it wasn't impossible to help these two alien unlucky guys by the way.

After thinking about it, he took out his business card and wrote a line on it: "Intending to recruit workers, treatment is excellent, interview, contact phone..."