Last night, a blizzard had blanketed the entire city white. The snowplows had only just begun clearing the streets, and every passing car had chains wrapped around its tires, clattering as they crushed the gray-black dirty snow.
Joyce walked down the street, bundled tightly in a long black trench coat. His unkempt blond hair and beard were as messy as a bird's nest in the freezing wind, and his face had turned blue from the cold.
Every so often, he shuddered and wrapped the coat even tighter around himself. But wrapping himself in it did nothing to keep him warm. He had slept on a park bench the night before, and the blizzard had soaked his clothes through. Their insulating ability had long since dropped infinitely close to zero.
Wave after wave of hunger-induced dizziness washed over him. Joyce reached a trash can, bent down, and rummaged through it. After a while, he pulled out several coffee cups that still had some weight to them. The leftover coffee had frozen at the bottoms, so he tore open the paper cups and gnawed at the ice.
After chewing through several chunks of coffee ice, he regained a little energy. Joyce looked toward the Gold Shop at the end of the road, felt the hard object inside his coat, and steeled himself to walk over.
When he reached the entrance to the Gold Shop, he glanced inside. The enormous shop had four young female clerks, but only two elderly women were selecting gold jewelry, making the place seem exceptionally deserted.
Ever since Song He had criticized Virtual Currency during a live broadcast of "Future Economics," Virtual Currency worldwide had remained caught between a slow decline and sudden crashes. Gold prices, on the other hand, had risen abnormally fast, almost matching wartime increases.