97th Street lay in Boulder City's western district. Sewage ran through the streets, the air was foul, and dilapidated tenement blocks stood crammed together in clusters. Nearby residents often derisively called it the "Crow's Nest."
Because it was close to the Great Wall, the residents here could only enjoy sunlight in the morning and at noon.
By dusk, the streets were swallowed by the Great Wall's shadow.
Objectively speaking, aside from the poor lighting, life here was still much better than in the slums outside the Great Wall.
Most of the people living here were workers from nearby factories.
Unless they were local residents, few people were willing to come near this place.
There was almost no entertainment here, and hardly anyone would open a shop among a bunch of poor bastards.
Those with jobs had to work sixteen hours a day and went straight to sleep once they got home. Those without jobs could stare into space all day and still not pull out a single chip to spend.
But there were exceptions.
At the border with the industrial district stood a beer hall called Walnut. Its signature feature was the pile of empty walnut-wood barrels outside the entrance.
The barrels were not large. They could serve as tables or stools, and could even help deal with certain sanitation issues.
When workers passed by after a day of labor, they would occasionally take out a chip tipped by their foreman, buy a cup of cheap, generously poured draft beer, forget the day's troubles, and then go home.
Some unemployed workers also came here to kill an entire day.
Though their pockets were empty, it was nice enough just to smell the beer or take a couple puffs of secondhand smoke.
No matter what, it beat sitting at home listening