George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 131

George Bush’s Great America – Episode 130

All cities were thoroughly isolated. The Communist Party’s People’s Republic of China was being utterly crushed in many ways, but ironically, this created the most fertile ground for the very type of control the Communist Party pursued.

The ideal politics of the Chinese Communist Party revolved around absolute control and management. The military began to monitor all logistics and strictly control the movement of people entering and leaving the cities. Only those with essential reasons and after undergoing rigorous inspections, could move between cities.

Unsurprisingly, human rights were nonexistent. The UN, ideally, should have intervened, but considering China’s unique and dire circumstances, it merely expressed concern, urging restraint in human rights violations, careful not to provoke further instability.

Even the UN recognized the seemingly insurmountable challenges within China. The country was vast, the population enormous, and the number of cities overwhelming. Compounding this, new and terrifying germs were spreading rapidly. Though unstated, many UN member states were secretly relieved by the Communist Party’s extreme measures.

The reason for this relief is easily understood. Imagine the global catastrophe if infected Chinese citizens spread these new diseases worldwide. Thus, while outwardly criticizing the Chinese Communist Party, many countries were inwardly grateful that the disease remained contained, at least for now.

In stark contrast to the reassured foreign governments, chaos reigned within the Chinese cities. The Communist Party deployed the military to control not only the cities but also small rural villages, attempting to identify carriers and manage dwindling supplies. But in reality, this was the limit of the Communist Party’s capabilities.

The situation inside the cities was, to put it mildly, dire. Coastal cities like Beijing and Shanghai, with access to overseas trade, fared relatively better due to more abundant supplies from the outset.

But what about the cities not so fortunate?

「Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves.」

Chang was wearily accustomed to hearing the “Volunteer Army March.” The respect and reverence once associated with the anthem had long vanished. It blared from every corner, even from checkpoints in every alley.

Mornings, afternoons, and evenings, the song was omnipresent, ceasing only after the 12 o’clock curfew. Chang’s life had been upended in a remarkably short time. The China he knew was…decent. Not a shining example, but a place where honest work ensured food on the table.

But now, honest labor no longer guaranteed a living wage.

“No, that’s not quite right.”

The issue wasn’t simply low wages; prices were skyrocketing, outpacing any potential earnings. Disease ravaged rural areas, already lacking medical care, and food prices soared.

China, despite its size, couldn’t sustain its 1.3 billion population independently. It relied heavily on food imports, primarily from the United States, a lifeline now severed.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have hoarded everything I could.”

Chang had stopped going to his old job. He figured trading state-issued ration tickets was more profitable than working and starving. Ration tickets weren’t a perfect solution, but they served as a form of alternative currency or barter.

For instance, a meal costing 100 yuan today might cost 150 yuan tomorrow. People preferred the acrylic ration tickets to rapidly devaluing cash. Ration tickets themselves weren’t entirely new; they were common until about a decade ago. However, the shift from paper to thin acrylic cards highlighted the changing times.

These credit-card-sized acrylic cards contained a small chip to prevent counterfeiting, a desperate attempt to revive China’s struggling semiconductor industry. Rumor had it that the government had invested so heavily that they couldn’t bear to abandon it.

A powerless city dweller like Chang couldn’t verify the truth, nor did he particularly care. His immediate concern was exchanging the ration ticket for food, a frustrating endeavor as supplies often ran out, even with a valid ticket.

Ration tickets came in different types. Unlike the highly subdivided tickets of the past, they were now consolidated into three categories: green for food, red for daily necessities, and yellow for “luxury goods.”

Even the “luxury goods” varied wildly. Some days it was candy, others an electronic watch, and occasionally even a tent.

People sarcastically called the ration tickets “traffic lights.”

There was also a blue ration ticket, but it was reserved for public officials, granting them access to all three categories with the highest priority.

Ironically, most of the goods distributed were imported, or rather, sent by international relief organizations, including the Red Cross.

Among them were American-made products, a fact that filled Chang with bitter resentment.

‘Who the hell is responsible for this mess? This is like giving medicine after poisoning someone, the bastards.’

Did I say I don’t go to work anymore? That statement also needs clarification. I changed from office work to field work, because field work pays better these days.

The job was simple: sharpen an axe, load a pistol, and rob seemingly vulnerable passersby. A week’s worth of supplies could be gained in one go. It was hard to find a more lucrative profession than robbery in the current climate.

While the authorities struggled to maintain order, focusing primarily on isolating cities, the cities themselves became breeding grounds for crime.

In short, you were safe unless you caused trouble near a checkpoint. The public security forces and the military were severely understaffed, unable to conduct proper patrols. This lawlessness led to the rise of vigilantes, a phenomenon usually suppressed by the Communist Party.

“Well, it would be interesting if a disease broke out here.”

The current government, the Communist Party, deserved some credit, at least.

“What should I do?”

Li Keqiang, the current Chairman of the Communist Party, was racking his brain. He was acutely aware of the deteriorating situation in the cities. However, assigning quarantine personnel from the already stretched public security forces was a risky gamble. A single breach could undo everything. Humans and animals could be reasoned with, but germs were relentless. Several villages had already been sealed off and subjected to “purification,” employing unethical methods due to cost and cooperation issues.

Despite these harsh measures, Li Keqiang was determined to save as many lives as possible. He had never favored this utilitarian approach, sacrificing the few for the many. It clashed with his personal values.

They were striving to ensure that those exposed to the new germs received treatment at special camps established by the Red Cross. While the new germs were terrifying, existing diseases hadn’t vanished.

Li Keqiang desperately needed the power to protect the vulnerable, but the reality was that he couldn’t even save one person. He cursed inwardly, the words echoing in his mind.

“Damn it. It’s all because of the United States. If it weren’t for those Yankees!”

Having reached this position, he finally understood why previous chairmen had met tragic ends. He respected Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao for enduring such immense pressure.

“Still, there’s some relief.”

Once the global community recognized the severity of China’s situation, realizing it was beyond China’s sole control, they mobilized. This lessened his worry about the disease itself. His primary concern was the inevitable loss of life during the fight against the germs.

If China collapses, the world collapses. This was the message China had relentlessly conveyed at the UN. Once it became clear that the Communist Party’s control was the only barrier preventing a global pandemic, support for China was unanimously approved. This was arguably one of Li Keqiang’s greatest achievements as chairman.

However, his deepest fear was the potential fragmentation of China. While military control over each city might seem secure, it was a precarious situation. Division doesn’t always originate from citizen uprisings; the greatest threat always comes from within the military.

Currently, they were prioritizing supplies for the military and public officials with sky-blue ration tickets, but this system was not guaranteed to last.

Even now, the military districts, sensing the central government’s weakening grip since the Qing Dynasty bonds [A type of government bond issued during the Qing Dynasty] were collected, were gradually acting autonomously. The country was teetering on the brink of division.

This situation was untenable. They needed to steer China back on course as quickly as possible. Taiwan’s movements were particularly alarming. Whether they trusted the Americans or sensed China’s vulnerability, they were expanding their army, navy, and air force.

He had issued naval threats a few times, but even the oil to fuel the navy was scarce, limiting his options. Taiwan seemed emboldened by this weakness, which was deeply unsettling, but there was little he could do at the moment.

In terms of foreign affairs, North Korea’s refusal to share information confirmed their complete break from China’s control. The memory of everything he had given to North Korea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Let’s see. You Yankees!”

He repeated it several times. Li Keqiang, who prided himself on being gentle and well-rounded, was becoming increasingly ruthless under the crushing weight of reality.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world in the United States.

“Please stop.”

The President’s pet cat caught another eagle.