Backlund's East Borough was an area even striking workers' marches would never pass through, because the workers understood that marching in a place like this would neither draw the authorities' attention nor make the capitalists wary. They might even get shaken down by the local gangs.
Most residents here lived very energy-efficient lives, because expending physical strength outside of work would only make their already empty stomachs even hungrier.
Even skilled workers and gang members with a little money to spare could only occasionally order a glass of cheap, watered-down ale in a low-class tavern, boasting while listening to others boast, savoring the luxury of feeling superior to someone else.
They did not have many topics to discuss. Insults and bragging each usually occupied half the conversation. Occasionally, there would be some major news everyone could talk about, and that was already a rare carnival. But today, the taverns of the East Borough seemed to have gained some new topic of conversation besides the recently executed Zilingus—
"Hey, hey, did you see that today?"
"Of course I did. It was so loud—what, do you think I'm deaf?"
"Then do you know what happened?"
"Who knows? Maybe all those cats and dogs went crazy?"
"Crazy? I don't think it's that simple! Let me tell you, my elder sister-in-law's younger sister's lover has connections in that field. He said it might be some kind of plague..."
"Don't talk nonsense! If a plague breaks out in a hellhole like the East Borough, it'll be a disaster!"
"That's what I'm saying! Look, that whole area has been surrounded by the police! If something big hadn't happened, why would those people be interested in coming to this dump?"
"Now that you mention it... We'd better be careful for a while. If we catch some disease,