blueteamnovel Chapter 806 - 441: Dawn Port Status_2
Chapter 806 - 441: Dawn Port Status_2
Dirty water and rainwater follow their own paths, the treatment pools in the dock area operate day and night, even the most unpleasant smells are pressed underground.
The air carries no odor of urine, no smell of decay, only the saltiness of the sea breeze, along with a faint hint of carbolic acid, a scent not quite pleasant yet reassuring.
Louis did not speak, but sitting across from him, Eliot noticed his gaze.
The supervisor of Dawn Port still sat upright, the folder in his hands firmly resting on his knees: "Sir, it’s not because they’re innately clean-loving, it’s the effect of the ’Red Tide Code’."
Louis lifted his eyes slightly.
Eliot continued: "In other ports, dock laborers live in pigsties, earn copper coins as daily wages, and whether they get a hot meal tomorrow depends on the employer’s mood. In Red Tide, we provide allocated housing and a monthly salary system.
Correspondingly, there are strict contracts. Those who relieve themselves anywhere are fined three days’ wages, those who drink and cause trouble lose their housing qualifications and are deported.
With access to dignity and money, no one wants to go back to being treated like livestock."
Eliot spoke with an unmistakable fervor: "It is your system that has transformed them from beasts into citizens."
The carriage slowly moved along the main road of the residential area.
It was shift change time, and the street swarmed with a gray tide.
Workers wore uniformly issued canvas workwear, thick and durable, with reinforced cuffs and knees.
Their faces were smudged with coal dust, and their fingernails weren’t perfectly clean either.
But their hair was cut short. Not for appearance, but to prevent lice, sweat rashes, and those persistent diseases that used to be impossible to drive away in shanty houses.
Most importantly, their expressions were clear, their gazes sweeping across the streets, across the guards on watch, across the bulletin boards along the roads, without any evasion or numbness.
As the steam carriage flying the Governor’s flag passed by, the crowd along the street spontaneously halted to pay respect.
Fortunately, they didn’t recognize Louis, otherwise they would surely have surrounded the carriage tightly.
Louis watched this scene, remained silent for a moment, then gently tapped his fingers on the paper.
"This is what I wanted to see." His voice was not loud, but very firm, "Even the lowest loaders stand tall."
The carriage continued forward, the heartbeat of the steam engine echoed behind, and the geometric lines of the street extended in the snowy mist.
Louis watched it all, finally releasing a slow breath: "Order... is the most extravagant luxury for humanity."
The carriage did not stop, turning past a gentle slope, leaving the edge of the residential area rapidly behind.
In the next moment, the view suddenly opened wide, tranquility shredded violently.
Roaring sounds came pressing from all directions, like a vast low thundercloud, rolling close to the ground.
The air suddenly turned murky, the temperature rose, coal smoke mingled with heat waves slapped the face.
This is the coastal industrial zone.
Louis’ gaze crossed the street, seeing the elevated steam conveyor belt spanning half a factory district.
The black belt operated at high speed under the drive of a set of gears, emitting a teeth-grinding friction sound. Coal and ores unloaded from the railway were brutally swallowed by it, then poured continuously as a black waterfall towards the depths of the dock.
In other ports, such scenes would mean another picture.
Thousands of bare-chested slaves carried heavy ore baskets, crawling like ants on narrow catwalks.
Some slipped, some fell, those dying from exhaustion were conveniently kicked into the sea, without any pause.
While here, flesh stepped back, steel stood forward.
Louis’ mind flitted across a line from the report, mechanization replacement rate, fifty percent.
When the steel dragon before them swallowed and spewed resources, this number truly gained weight, one conveyor belt.
Freeing countless laborers.
The carriage’s water cup suddenly shook, followed by a heavier vibration.
The sound surpassed the waves, even causing the ground beneath to respond.
It was the hundred-ton steam forging hammer, each strike reshaping the form of steel.
Flares flickered in the depths of the factory district, molten iron splattered, swiftly pulled away, cooled, and formed.
This is the true main theme of this city.
Eliot stood by the side of the carriage, following Louis’ gaze, his voice involuntarily elevated.
"This is Gray Rock, the Dawn linkage mechanism, ores from Gray Rock Province, directly reaching here via railway, undergoing digestion in this factory district."
He raised his hand, pointing to the area engulfed in black smoke and firelight, his tone carrying an almost proud certainty.
"Sir, your designed resource allocation system is truly astonishing, no noble layers exploiting, each piece of iron ore precisely sent to its destined place, ultimately forged into the armor of the Empire."
"Other Lords..." Louis slowly spoke, "still whipping slaves, while we have learned to steer steam with institutions."
He withdrew his gaze, looking toward Eliot: "Let’s go, take me to the shipyard."
......
The dry dock’s dome resembles a hollowed-out mountain.
Steel beams crisscross, hundreds of alchemy spotlight lamps hang above, casting a stark white below.
The light fell on the steel surface, smeared with oil to a layer of cold, hard sheen, even the shadows appeared sharp.
The air was mixed with the scorching smell of hot metal, the sweet scent of high-quality lubricating oil, and the residual warmth of steam not fully dissipated, heavily pressing into the lungs.
This is the deepest area of Dawn Port, the Dawn Port shipyard.
This place is not open to any workers, the passages locked layer upon layer, the ground deliberately cleared nearly spotless, even footsteps magnified.