Every Identity Has Its Proper Place

It was another early morning. In a room where the sunlight had been squeezed out by the solar panels on the upper floor, leaving it with little warmth, a row of people dressed in formal attire sat in front of the chairs near the entrance.

These people included both men and women, and varied in age and skin color. Although Main Body mostly dressed formally, many differences could be seen in the details.

Some use pure gold tie clips and Lapel Pin to highlight their status, some choose fabrics without synthetic fibers, and some deliberately wear women's clothes or vice versa. Although at first glance they all look like social elites, upon closer inspection, they are all Demons and Monsters.

Time passed second by second, and names were called out from the room ahead. Those whose names were called immediately stood up, while those who had gone in earlier slowly walked out.

Although the shifts were completed every few tens of seconds, the number of people waiting in front of the benches showed no signs of decreasing; on the contrary, it increased as time went on.

"George, is Mr. George Augustus here?"

"I'm here." A middle-aged man with light brown medium-length hair, who looked to be in his early forties, with a small mustache and no visible signs of cybernetic modifications, stood up from his seat.

He was dressed in a well-fitting suit, and everything about him seemed quite ordinary, except for the tie with a scale and skull print that was slightly jarring.

He tightened his tie, entered the room with a gentle smile, and was led to a desk by the staff member who had called his name earlier.

As the man in the seat got up and left, before he could sit down again, the staff member reached out his hand and said:

"Application Report."

"Here." George Augustus took out a USB drive and handed it to the other person. The staff member skillfully plugged it into the interface next to her. As the scanning program started, a red light was emitted from the device in front of her, scanning back and forth on George Augustus until the green light came on, indicating that his qualifications were correct. Only then did he turn his attention to the content displayed on the screen.

But the instant his eyes met the words, his pupils visibly trembled, then he frowned, looked up at George, and said:

"Mr. Augustus, are you sure you want to use this as your campaign slogan?"

"Of course." George Augustus nodded calmly. The staff member didn't say anything more, simply filed and stamped the document, entered it into the review process, and then spoke:

"Okay, this is your Unlimited Flow Account. You can now use this account to post election-related content on any public platform. Of course, all of this is only effective during the election period. If you violate the rules and are not elected, you will be held accountable after the election."

"I understand." George Augustus took the USB drive, turned and left the office. Although he had some reservations about using this kind of office mode in Year 2077, he could understand it by thinking about the institutions on Earth that used equipment from decades ago.

After all, antiquity itself implies that it has withstood the test of time.

The mayor of Asgari City is elected by the people, but the position itself does not have much power. Just as the Prime Minister of Victoria is mostly controlled by the Civilian System even when she comes to power, the Mayoral Election in this Cyberpunk city is also a business.

Anyone who has "identity" in this city is eligible to apply to run for office, and as long as the election is ongoing, even the day before the vote, registration is still possible.

Candidates need to register their campaign slogans first, then submit them to the Notarization System for archiving and notarization. After that, they can use their Real Name Account to publish their campaign speeches in various media, and of course, they can also publish other things.

It's worth mentioning that as long as someone participates in an election, their account enjoys the highest Freedom of Speech before the voting period. Whatever they post will not be subject to traffic restrictions, blocking, control, or shutdown.

Even a female mayor who was elected sixteen years ago won the election by posting videos of herself selling tea.

In a sense, this is less of a mayoral election and more of a national Idol Talent Show with election-like characteristics. The videos and statements released by these candidates, and even the private retaliations and assassinations that result from their statements, are the highlights of this show.

Capital doesn't care about the participation of the poor or even gangsters; in fact, they are the "clowns" who provide entertainment.

As for criticizing major companies... just kidding. Which company doesn't get criticized? As long as they can make money, it doesn't matter if you criticize them every day!

And Mr. George Augustus, as a candidate, released his campaign slogan as follows:

"Reject False Propaganda, combat Feudal Superstition, resist Entertainment to Death, and return to the Pastoral Era!"

"Gentlemen, don't you think our world has gone astray? To sell Preservative Film and vision aids, they're even creating ghosts and monsters! What if bullets become scarce? Will they actively start wars? Wake up! This world doesn't need so much falsehood..."

"Boss, this guy's really fearless, daring to say things like that!" A henchman from the Mobik Gang, watching the campaign speech in the video, wiped away some oil seeping from his engine. The boss rolled his eyes and said:

"What's there to hide? Did he name names? Think again, who are the people he's insulting?"

"He insulted Constantine, Ziguang, Dor..."

"Idiot!" The leader quickly threw a punch, forcibly interrupting his underling's reckless act, then glared and said:

"When did he ever criticize these companies? He criticized Feudal Superstition and False Propaganda! Oh, and also the Entertainment to Death streamers and the spectators who just watch the show."

"Is there a difference?" The underling scrambled to his feet, rubbing the dent in his armor plate as he muttered under his breath. The boss sighed; though he didn't want to explain, he spoke up to prevent the idiot from saying anything that might drag him into trouble.

"Think about it again, everyone he insults is actually a reflection of himself!"

"Right! The Entertainment to Death streamer, the ghost hunter with False Propaganda, the counterfeit goods seller..." the younger brother said, counting on his fingers, somewhat speechless.

"This gentleman paid for a status just to argue with himself for fun?"

"That's right! But this argument is making him money!" The eldest brother silently calculated the profits he'd made from recent trendy investments, and couldn't help but sigh. But at the same time, he shook his head and said:

"The problem now is that this gentleman is definitely going to be assassinated. Go and prepare some manpower; he might hire bodyguards later."

"Huh? Didn't you say he was only cursing himself? Why was he assassinated? He couldn't have killed himself, could he?" The underling hadn't quite grasped the situation, so the boss could only sigh.

"Even if he doesn't kill himself, his fellow opportunists won't know! Besides, even without a conflict of interest, candidates can be assassinated for ratings, understand?!"

While browsing the comments, I suddenly discovered that a reader traversed a distance of at least 2,400 kilometers in 50 seconds, Teleportation from the Northern Xinjiang border to Guangdong... a speed of at least 48,000 kilometers per second... a low-end Somersault Cloud.

I'm not saying this for any other reason than to ask: Boss, do Take a Disciple?