Preface to Chapter 64, ‘If people are not afraid of death, how can they be afraid of death? ’
Time: 2003, August 1st,
Weather: Cloudy
Summer
Preface: [‘Hell on Earth’]
The place was filled with the smell of disinfectant. Everyone was wearing masks and clothes that hadn't been washed in countless days, standing uneasily in the aisle.
There is no loud noise and no loud noise.
Although there were dozens of people in the corridor, it was surprisingly quiet. Only the sound of footsteps could slightly dispel the biting chill in people's hearts.
It's heaven and it's hell.
My name is Song Si, and I am sitting on a public chair in the hospital.
Beside him were several awkward middle-aged men.
I know they are the same as me.
Where is it the same?
Just waiting to die.
I worked as a miner and as an electrician, but wherever I was, I was like a blade of grass.
I am like a piece of grass on the roadside, no one will care about me, no one will take care of me, if it is an eyesore, if it interferes with the growth of crops, then I will be bulldozed.
However, I cannot miss the growth of crops.
Because the grass is yellow and the grass leaves are withered.
If someone had noticed it earlier and treated it a little, my plant might have survived, but now it can't. The root of the disease is very deep and rooted in the soil.
Who cares about a dead grass on the roadside?
Farm women take good care of the crops that produce food and bring harvest, not the grass that they use as fertilizer for the land.
These people next to me are also grass, like withered yellow weeds like me.
"It shouldn't be. Why did I run out of money so quickly? I just paid it in the morning. Why did I run out of money so quickly?"
A man said this, holding the payment notice in his hand and muttering to himself.
He was sick, leukemia, but he was no longer cured. He knew that he would eventually die, so he chose to leave money to treat his daughter.
I know him, he is the president of the mutual aid association.
A mutual aid club is a place where a group of patients help each other.
But.
It's nothing more than comfort and giving myself psychological comfort.
No one in this world can guarantee that a disease of this magnitude can be cured.
Even if there is a place that can cure it.
Nor can a blade of grass enjoy it.
Only wheat, sorghum, and rice will do.
I understand this, but I don't understand. Why can't we get what we deserve?
"What did the court say?"
A sick man speaking to another sick man.
"The trial hasn't started yet. The trial will wait until two months later. What about you?"
"I'm still fighting a lawsuit. Their lawyers are very powerful, but the public interest lawyers said there is nothing they can do."
Another sick man spoke with despair on his face.
I know that his name is Sun Lai, and he has no other ideas. He, like me and others, wants to get back what he deserves, such as a sum of money.
He has advanced lung cancer, which has progressed from the early stage to the advanced stage. During this period, he kept asking the factory for money, but he never got a reply.
He said that he reached a dead end because of the toxic gas in the factory and was injured at work.
The factory said that this was caused by his own smoking and poor life, and the factory was willing to provide humanitarian aid.
Five hundred dollars in humanitarian aid.
It was then that I realized that humanitarianism is so cheap.
There is also a patient with leukemia there, who is also a factory employee. He said it was caused by a gas leak in the factory and applied for workers' compensation compensation.
He didn't say the result.
But I know that this is the world.
If you don't get what you deserve, what you don't deserve will always come.
"Why?"
Suddenly, someone uttered three words.
I looked around to see who asked, but couldn't find anyone, and then I realized.
This is what I asked.
No one answered.
My thinking was very clear, but my eyes were red. I felt that I was very rational, but my eyes were red. I felt that I was unprecedentedly calm, but I felt that an obsession was sprouting in my heart.
I asked again.
"Why!?"
Still no one answered, and their eyes turned red, not knowing why.
But this time, I have an answer.
Protests, formal channels, groveling, these are channels for ordinary people.
I'm not an ordinary person.
How can a piece of grass lead the way for ordinary people?
Of course, the rules that restrict people have no restrictions on grass?
So.
I have to find another way. This is a chemical factory, a very profitable one, making thousands of dollars a day.
The workers worked ten times the hard work, and the factory received ten times the profit, but only needed to distribute less than 10% to them.
The boss here is called Zhou Dapeng.
"Brother Peng, what should we do with those people?"
"Who are they? Those sick people?"
"Yes, according to regulations, the factory should provide hundreds of thousands of yuan in work-related injury compensation"
"With hundreds of thousands, they can cure it?"
Zhou Dapeng asked back, his face very dissatisfied.
The people around him paused for a moment, thought about it for a moment, and then shook their heads.
"It can't be cured."
"Is this serious!?"
"If you can't cure it, what are you going to do with the money? Do you want to do charity?"
Zhou Dapeng had a smile on his face, and a trace of contempt flashed in his eyes.
"If it can't be cured, then why should we pay for it? They are just a bunch of ordinary people, giving hundreds of thousands or millions to a bunch of dead people. Isn't this a waste!?"
"We are saving energy, freeing up medicines for hospitals, and making contributions to society!"
"They have to thank us!"
Zhou Dapeng said truthfully and took a sip of tea.
This is what he thinks is the way to make money.
It’s called reducing expenditure and increasing revenue, saving unnecessary expenses.
He felt that it would be a waste to give hundreds of thousands or millions to a bunch of dead people. On the contrary, he could make more profit by buying materials for himself.
This is a good deal.
As for human life, do they count as human?
"What about the court?"
The man asked hesitantly again.
"What if they sue us?"
"Sue? Sue."
Zhou Dapeng's face was full of disdain, "A bunch of damn sick people, even the dogs I raise live better than them, what tricks can they do?"
"If you file a lawsuit, just file it. If you wait two months and you are too sick to get out of bed, who will appear in court?"
"After waiting for three to five years, I died of illness. Will anyone sue me!?"
The man paused, not thinking of a rebuttal.
After a long while, he said:
"What to do about sewage discharge? Brother Peng, are you not afraid of the court judging you?"
Zhou Dapeng waved his hand indifferently.
"How much is the fine? Twenty thousand? You can make it back in two days!"
"You know, human life is worthless!"
Zhou Dapeng said so.
How can a bunch of careless people make waves?
At most, he would just return the money to them, and he would even earn a lot of interest.
Just like this, they are still happy when they get what they deserve, and they still feel that they have won, but they don't know that this is what they deserve.
Zhou Dapeng thought proudly.
October 4, 2003.
afternoon.
Six people broke into Zhou Dapeng's home. Frightened, Zhou Dapeng opened his eyes and saw six devils.
The devil is hideous and terrifying, looking like a bloodthirsty beast.
Scarlet eyes stared at him.
"I was wrong, I was wrong, don't kill me, I will give you whatever you want, money, I know you are short of money, I have money, I will give you money"
"I don't want any more money."
The six devils looked ferocious and raised their butcher knives high.
"I want your life!!!"
(‘Hell on Earth·Case’)
(Case closed!)
(End of chapter)