Chapter 126: The Newsman's Melancholy

June 9th, the third day of the college entrance examination.

Early morning.

The wind was strong, yet it did not blow through Jiangcheng; the rain was fierce, yet it did not fall upon Jiangcheng.

In the central district, on a certain street, in front of a large outdoor LED screen.

“Don’t rush, don’t rush! Everyone, please sit in order, or I won’t start the broadcast!” In the midst of the crowd, Lu Zhongcheng, wearing glasses, stood with his hands on his hips and shouted confidently, as if styling a neatly parted haircut, trying to manage the noisy throng of people like pets.

Suddenly, his expression softened into one of flattery as he waved at a young woman in the crowd. “Huanhuan, you sit here with Miaomiao, come on! I’ve saved seats just for you, right next to the speakers.”

Lu Zhongcheng’s name sounded imposing, even a little domineering, but it was simply because he was born in 2031—the year construction began in Jiangcheng’s central district.

That year, Jiangcheng gave birth to over a hundred new central districts, reminiscent of the military and nation-building efforts a century ago, or of the notable figures from fifty years past. In short, he was an ordinary person, as ordinary as one could be.

His position, much like his name, sounded impressive, but in reality… it was nothing special.

He was a news announcer.

It sounded high-end and dignified, evoking images of a foreign ministry spokesperson. At worst, you might think of a news broadcaster.

But in truth, not at all.

His job was to connect to Jiangcheng’s internal network and, as required, disseminate internal news accurately and in real-time to designated areas. Occasionally, he also took on roles as a host or live commentator.

Using newspapers wastes paper, the internet uses electricity, and manpower is the most energy-efficient and environmentally friendly.

His role was roughly equivalent to the now-extinct newspaper delivery person before the disasters, or the nearly extinct radio announcer and film projectionist.

Only with a slightly higher technical content.

Because this era lacked a fully developed network environment, although devices like computers, televisions, mobile phones, and tablets were not scarce, there was almost no addictive content.

As a result, most technological items became mere decorations; even if ordinary people had them, they wouldn’t know how to use them.

Don’t be fooled by schools offering programming classes—you’ve studied English longer than programming, haven’t you? Can you speak it fluently? Can you communicate smoothly with foreigners?

Moreover, don’t assume everyone even had the chance to take programming classes…

The world after the disaster was different from before. At least in Jiangcheng, education had regressed to nine years of compulsory schooling…

Most children had to start working after middle school; only about one in ten had the opportunity to attend high school, and those were the ones with certain talents. Otherwise, how could there be only a little over a thousand high school students?

Lu Zhongcheng had graduated high school, which made him somewhat educated and qualified for this technically demanding job.

Usually, aside from occasionally organizing a small film screening or making announcements over the loudspeaker, he had little presence. Only at times like this could he stand proudly with his hands on his hips.

As the crowd was still noisy and seating arrangements unsettled, a person suddenly wandered in from an alleyway.

“What do you guys usually broadcast here?”

He was a visitor from outside the district.

Though far away, Lu Zhongcheng instinctively heard him and immediately lifted his head like a cobra sensing prey’s tremor. “Hiss, hissing… First, we show the rankings and introduce some star students; then, according to their schedules and public opinion, we segment the broadcasts; we also focus on several popular ranking lists…”

Star students were like the Messi and Ronaldo of football, LeBron and Westbrook of the NBA—naturally attracting attention wherever they appeared.

Of course, there were also dark horses who surprised everyone with their brilliance, whose highlights would be replayed repeatedly.

Essentially, Jiangcheng’s authorities had integrated an intranet forum accessible to authorized users.

News agencies like Jiangcheng Radio, the Propaganda Department, and military communication offices uploaded all publicly available materials, live footage, interviews, and so forth.

News announcers then searched and played the content requested by viewers or connected to cameras for live match coverage…

It was basically the same as any internet enthusiast before the disaster opening headlines and checking WeChat reports daily.

In this era, it had become a technical skill.

However, the throng of people reviewing content together was reminiscent of the early days of black-and-white television when entire villages gathered at a neighbor’s house to watch a show, evoking a unique charm.

Lu Zhongcheng answered expertly, seemingly already picturing the visitor from outside being convinced by his professional knowledge and pulling out a small stool to sit.

Yet the outsider merely shrugged, “That’s all?” and turned away without a trace of reluctance.

Why?

Because there was no stool prepared?

Or the sugar syrup didn’t have enough sweetener?

Or perhaps his face wasn’t square enough, lacking in attractiveness…

A thousand thoughts flashed through Lu Zhongcheng’s mind in an instant, ultimately condensing into a single phrase: “Please wait, sir!”

“I’ve got a 150-inch ultra-large LED screen here, carefully selected natural street scenes, and a limited-edition super-heavy bass speaker… This is the most luxurious setup for this year’s exam season. May I ask what else could be unsatisfactory?”

Lu Zhongcheng glared at the outsider with a “Though I’m really annoyed, I must keep smiling” expression.

“You call that the most luxurious setup?” The outsider laughed immediately. “Don’t you know? Out there, people use holographic projection helmets now.”

“Your 150 inches? Others can project 300 inches or even larger! I heard they can display up to nine split-screen images, project holographic match footage, and even have voice control…”

“I only heard your equipment here was pretty good, so I came to see for myself, but I didn’t expect…” The outsider shook his head regretfully, as if saying, “They’ve already got 21-inch color TVs out there, and you’re still clutching a 14-inch black-and-white one—aren’t you outdated?”

Holographic… projection… helmets…

Lu Zhongcheng’s head buzzed. He had heard the term before.

When others introduced it to him, he thought it was just a personal playback device, unsuitable for many people to use at once, and besides, it was quite expensive… So, to save costs, he had dismissed it, never imagining it had so many expanded functions.

Split-screen display, holographic projection, voice control… This, this, this was a configuration beyond imagination!

He reached out desperately toward the visitor’s resolute back, as if trying to hold onto time or regret, but in the end, he couldn’t hold onto anything.

“What? 300 inches? Twice the size here? That must be huge!” The audience whispered among themselves.

“Twice? You didn’t learn high school math well. It’s clearly four times! That’s almost like the outdoor big screen at the stadium, isn’t it?” One voice mused dreamily.

Thinking of those wall-sized big screens, a few people glanced sideways at Lu Zhongcheng, who was still dazed, then crouched down and quickly followed the still-receding outsider.

“Hey, brother, where can we watch the live broadcast with those holographic helmets?”

The outsider turned, smiling broadly. “Not far, not far, just a few turns away. I heard they even serve sweetened nectar there.”

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