America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 17 - Pawnshop

"Yo, isn't this our legal advocacy pioneer, the French cannon, Mr. Dave Snake?"

Allen greeted and went on to tease, observing Dave's impeccably dressed appearance, shiny leather shoes, not looking at all like a vagrant.

He even had a briefcase under his arm, presenting himself in a way that was anything but homeless.

It felt as though all the props he had scrimped and saved were all utilized today.

Allen was somewhat astonished, "Buddy, are you sure you're headed off to do some public service work?"

"Why do you call me Snake?" Dave was bewildered.

And he explained, "Through my tireless efforts, I've secured a pro bono commission issued by the court: a family of six Black people living in the slums of Sixth Street have reported their local community and need me to defend them for free, fighting for their right to have their basic water and electricity infrastructure repaired."

"If I can win the case, they'll put a '✓' on my resume and credit!"

"As long as I can gather enough good reviews from the public, I can reapply for a credit evaluation with the court, restore my attorney license and qualify to open my own firm, to obtain a formal job!"

Dave was brimming with confidence, "And they'll be paying for my meals during the job."

The humanitarianism of the United States is such that as long as you can prove yourself to be a useful member of society, especially with a special profession and a unique skillset, by being more engaged in public service and beloved by the people, the court isn't unwilling to consider giving you a chance to redeem yourself.

This is something that the old Qi People love to see.

Not a few drug offending celebrities have been forgiven and even gained more popularity after public confessions. The national tolerance is just too high.

Mainly it's about being 'beloved by the people', the rest doesn't matter much, as popularity and votes trump all.

If you're in another profession, say, a capitalist, insect killer, or engineer, it's hard to make people adore you.

When a wealthy person falls from grace, others couldn't wait for you to die sooner.

Giving people with special professions an opportunity, while also addressing the problems of the lower class – how wonderful is it to dump all the unwanted jobs onto them?

Americans know how to recycle waste; the homeless are similar in concept.

The belief that "what exists is rational" is carried through to the end.

"Dave, I think it's the greatest misfortune for that family that your lawyer's license wasn't directly canceled," Allen began silently mourning for that family.

"Hey! How can you say that! Give me some encouragement, buddy!!"

Dave was a bit displeased.

"Wishing you all the best!!" Allen immediately cheered him on, encouraging him.

"I will definitely win the case."

Dave left with the confident demeanor of a king returning to his throne, head held high and chest out.

For a legal pioneer who had been in and out of high court many times, taking on a community service defense case would be a walk in the park!

Allen remained skeptical.

A person who could even manage to get himself imprisoned while defending himself... seriously.

He dared not imagine if after another failure, that person might become despondent and contemplate suicide!!

...

Kajin Bridge No. 4 sewer outfall.

Allen had spent ages on Google Maps to locate such a dilapidated spot.

It felt strangely familiar, and upon closer inspection, wasn't this bridge with a similar geography to one from GTA!

"No wonder it felt like I've been here before... turns out I've driven like a maniac here before and even had some thrill-seeker experiences right here."

He got half a star on the wanted list after crashing into the road infrastructure and getting discovered by the police, but in a burst of anger, he became a five-star good citizen, bombing half the city.

Allen Zhang began searching at the drain exit, where the smell of dead rats and the stench of seafood hit him hard.

The iron grate of drain outlet No. 4 was already rusted and had long ceased to serve its purpose. It seemed someone had pried an opening in it.

Bending down to take a closer look, he found, with the help of his phone's light, bedding and a pile of abandoned sundries—maybe this was the temporary living space of whoever they were dealing with?

He rummaged through and found a box; upon opening it, he discovered a bundle of scattered $5, $10, and $20 US dollar bills. There were also unopened plastic wraps adhering to blue-gold labels—three unknown-brand cigars retailed for $15 each.

Such a bargain.

Of course, the most eye-catching item was a shiny silver tequila bottle with mermaid and skull designs, adorned with a silver tag. Inside, the liquor was as blue as the deep sea. Allen Zhang had never seen this brand of tequila before and admitted he was not well-acquainted with it.

He took out his cellphone and looked up information on 1800 Sirena Del Deseo (Desire Mermaid).

His eyes widened at the string of numbers.

One bottle, $2000 US dollars.

Another look at the anti-counterfeit label, a comparison of the information and the bottle itself, left him disinterested—unfortunately, it was a counterfeit.

However, it should still be worth something.

The surrounding stench was unbearable for Allen Zhang, so he quickly packed up and left.

Streets bustled with people and cars started to stream in heavier flows, but nobody paid attention to a homeless man with a bundle.

Allen Zhang arrived at a slightly busier street in the Fifth Street district, at an antique pawnshop.

"Welcome to George Pawnshop. How can I help you today?"

Upon entering, the white owner asked without raising his head.

The pawnshop owner was a lean, hairy white old man dressed in old-fashioned clothes from the last century, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and a twirled mustache, with a brown briarwood engraved pipe in his mouth.

He sat behind the counter with a magnifying glass over his left eye, carefully wiping a watch movement with a blue square handkerchief, surrounded by various disassembled watch parts on the table.

The room was filled with an array of items—javelins, forks, blue-ribbon badges, gold coins, silver coins, copper coins, snuff boxes, glass cabinets, plates of blue and white porcelain; on the wall hung a Winchester M1885 lever-action rifle. There were Cartier watches, Vantini necklaces, wallets, sunglasses.

All sorts of contemporary and modern things could be found here.

Allen Zhang didn't speak up immediately but instead looked over the collection in the room—items were categorized as [Pawns], [For Display Only - Not for Sale], and [For Sale].

Items for sale were mostly modern things you could buy at other stores. Pawns included many things from the last century, not more than a hundred years old, which here in America were already considered antiques and relics.

In China's pawnshops and museums, they wouldn't even qualify for display.

There's no helping it—the cultural heritage is too strong, the history too vast.

Since George the owner hadn't heard a response, he looked up and saw that Allen Zhang was not very well-dressed, with mud on his sneakers and carrying a bulging black bundle, scrutinizing the items and their value.

The owner put down the movement he was working on and stealthily touched something under the counter.

Still showing a calm demeanor, he asked, "Pal, are you looking to pawn items or to buy them?"

"I'm here to sell something. I have a bottle of imitation 1800 Sirena Del Deseo silver label tequila and three cigars. I wonder how much I could get for them."

Allen Zhang caught a glimpse of the owner's posture and knew that the owner had skillfully opened the safety; without explaining, he feared it might be too late.

He took out the shiny silver bottle and the three cigars, placing them on the counter.

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He clearly noticed the pawnshop owner tense up for a moment when Allen's hand reached into his pocket. It wasn't until he saw the large shiny silver bottle taken out that the owner relaxed again.

"Oh, then I welcome you, customer," the pawnshop owner said, his expression instantly softened, becoming friendly and pleasant.

He glanced at the three cigars but didn't look further, since the brand's anti-counterfeit mark and price were on them. He could just count on getting about 20% off the original price for them, put them in the discount section, and they would sell quickly—there was profit to be made.

Wiping his hands, he then looked at the shiny silver bottle, "You don't mind if I take a closer look, do you?"

"Go ahead," Allen Zhang nodded.