Chapter 81
Most of the Federation was kind of artificial, yet it was full of grass, soil, and a sturdy foundation, so what was real or tricked by forgery that was engineering or architecture?
Frankly, as far as William was watching, it was as real as it could be. Earth Walkers of many generations worked on this land, stacking their creation or taking mountains to the waters to build this place. They worked with a method called Terraforming, which might be one side of the Darks, but it didn't mean Walkers couldn't take some notes from them.
They were able to change the places and hand the earth. It wasn't the most stable thing in the middle of the ocean because it took a lot of time and planning, and structures had to be built by hand on top of stable soil. They couldn't just decide on a whim to grab a mountain and advance to the east.
Pavement was a work of art, rather than done by Walkers. Factories with regular people ensured the Federation had much-needed order to make a good city. The same thing went to most buildings. The core network went to Walkers, while regular people built the rest. Everything was amazing when one learned about the former world, and much crazier if one knew the current one.
The same could be said about the bridge he crossed a few moments ago. Pillars protruded from the ocean, while those strands of water went through the Federation, chilling, and giving water to every District. Boats often drifted via these paths, so one could travel anywhere much easier, and a lot of transportation of goods happened this way. It was better than by land or sky, though the underground facilities were out of sight.
William assumed those waters transported people and goods, promoting trading because there were no machines on the roads of the Federation. He saw some people in tight bicycle lines where there were no walking people. No cars or motorbikes were around either.
Streets weren't built for that.
William even noticed a few bigger ships in wider waters, but not as many as he walked further into the Central District where those waters didn't reach. Instead, there was a jungle of streets and people because there was a less abundant need for them.
Looking around the main streets—that curved around many sections of the Central District—he saw many smaller streets and buildings that left him speechless. He then watched a familiar situation. Shouting and the clutter of voices were the same as in many markets in many camps. Bartering or shopping with credits, people were loud and proud. Memories around the camps made it familiar. Yet, he still disliked crowded spaces.
There were more people in this open shopping street with an abundance of stalls than in any camp he had ever seen. Fruits, fresh pastries, and all sorts of ready meals were on another level. Quality must be good since people hurried or bought stuff on the go, so it resembled chaos more than anything else.
Suddenly, one of his small yet precious memories came into his mind, shifting his face. A warm hand led him through the marketplace of the nameless camp, pointing, whispering above him, pointing to some stalls, and keeping him busy. He felt happy back then, jumping up and down, and feeling mother's hand. He was way too young to understand her. He was content and never left his sight.
But then she did and he had never seen her again. Anger, disappointment, and frown spread at the same time, following clutched hands and heavier steps. William calmed as he walked further, watched, and ignored, but followed. He was no longer taking as many sights in mind because of that precious memory.
William understood that the nature of people was strange. Not every human was the same. Places were how humans made them to be. No matter where or how they lived, some things might shift and chaos could happen, but people were still around, even with death around them.
About a dozen minutes into this walk, he noticed an unexpected sign on the wall, right beside a smaller alleyway between buildings.
[Federation Library]
There was even a pointing arrow forward, guiding him into the tight alleyway that must go into that main square.
“Is that arrow describing directions?” William assumed it did and walked forth. Many other signs were all over the walls, giving places free advertisements, or directions.
Most of them pointed to noteworthy places, such as street names, or the city's square. Just the names of the streets were useless to him since he didn't know them, and he didn't bother taking his map out. He did it once to see the direction and then let it up to luck.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
He succeeded and soon discovered what he expected. Piercing buildings loomed over many buildings, but they weren't the tallest in the Federation, let alone in this Central District.
“A city's square? Those are important places, so does that mean the library is close?” William was sure because the map said so, but he wasn't sure which tall building was the library.
William spent less time worrying, and more time walking and looking around. People were also around, but it wasn't as if he wanted to ask them for directions and bother them. That would be weird. He gazed around with casual and neutral glances, which he thought were appropriate, but weren't.
He failed to recognize his incompetence. He wore drags in other people's eyes. Others around him had neat clothes, often cleaner than anything that he owned. A lot of people had more sparing clothes than him since the environment was humid and hot. He had trousers, and a thicker jacket that did have some holes, but they were small, so he thought it was good enough.
He never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable in this great weather. Frankly, he would gladly go shirtless and feel the sun on his back. He knew that he couldn't do that. The clothes that people wore around him were so much better, he kind of thought everyone must be important because of all these crazy buildings.
Ignorance was no excuse, yet it didn't bother him. It was just a keen observation he made and didn't recognize its significance. One had to work to get up to such nice clothes. That was what he knew. Although it was morning, the sun was bright and the weather was hot. At noon, that would change and the sun would pierce the streets.
Some people did have some military uniforms, or things close to that, or casual hoodies and shirts. A lot of variety was there in colors, but the style remained somewhat stagnant and simple. Fashion wasn't as important as in the past. Quality and quantity were better than cheap things.
People needed functionality, which came with clever ways of working, farming, and imagination. It was better to make something to last than be inappropriate. The same thing went for shoes. Cotton and leather were available in vast quantities and those became many products. Some farms were even here, hidden, but the majority of the stress from resources came from Outside.
Most businesses were busy and looking for improvements, so they had eyes on many Walkers. Many businesses supported or promoted them with some contracts or advertisements, giving back what they deserved, or needed.
The Federation ensured it all worked out, so the public didn't question how they did it. They did, which was the important part even if many farms were far away from anything. Business was ongoing, and goods were available. That was what mattered.
It was almost a miracle.
Was it the ships? Many citizens thought so, but wasn't it too expensive and dangerous? In common understanding, many large-scale expeditions used a one-of-a-kind machine of the Federation. A tanker. Thousands of people were involved in such expeditions, and they lasted for weeks in this large-scale gathering and military operation. It was incorrect. The true matter of goods wasn't up to the ships but Walkers themselves.
Other than that, very few things made sense, yet the Federation was growing and looking better by the day.
William was impressed as it stood, while the answers to all of it went through Assembly Island and Walkers.
Camps were the same. They provided land, people, and goods, while Walkers and Federation ensured a stable structure between everything. William didn't have to adjust to everything, so he took this the lightest.
It was a symbiotic relationship, even if it was extremely dangerous Outside and most large-scale places were complicated. It was inevitable. William was well aware of what it meant to survive Outside, though he wasn't sure about all the reasons behind such places.
It was around him and he couldn't think of them in his usual manner. People, buildings, the things he walked on. Everything was one way or another related to people and many years of work.
Everyone was in constant need of something. Humanity and economics followed that, which wasn't something William ever loved, but learning a thing or two about it was mandatory for anyone who had a decent spine between their shoulders.
He knew a thing or two since the main course of his livelihood wasn't the orphanage in Roswell. He had his eyes, ears, and brain. Training and knowledge came with that as well, followed by Miss Anderson and many stories. William also had a job. To be precise, many jobs.
It wasn't only about Roshwell. Many camps had a lot of issues because of their locations and people. Flat and prosperous land was good as long as farms provided enough food across the board, but protection was another thing. A river was optimal. Mountains were stable and good, but such things would have limited farming land, so some hills or deep forests were better.
In Roshwell, thanks to its structure, protection, and size, there were farms far beyond the defensive walls. There were thousands of hectares of land to cultivate. Potatoes, tomatoes, and fields upon fields of wheat were what William took care of for years. That and the animal fields and shelters where he managed sheep, cows, rabbits, and fields of chickens.
The barter used in camps was better than forceful credits. Camps had no method to make them work, while accessibility to everything needed immediate value, second to the whole reason they were there, to begin with. Almost all resources moved from them to the Federation. Thus, even if it meant using old-fashioned barter, most camps worked with what it was left with.
William saw the Federation differently. He wasn't too bothered with the credits. It was just...well, he didn't find it too bothersome. That was it. It could've been worse. He was sure how and that sole word spoke many histories. It was about a dictatorship.