10: Oppressed people, rise up and resist!

On this day, Darwin City descended into chaos.

Tens of thousands of Indigenous people from Darwin City collectively took to the streets.

They chanted slogans and marched along every visible street.

The earth-shattering commotion drew the attention of all other citizens, who looked out from their doors or windows, wondering if such a large-scale action was to commemorate the death of Moe Water, the leader of the Indigenous Party.

It wasn't until many people noticed that the marchers were carrying black and white portraits of several core high-ranking Indigenous Party officials, and even many coffins, that they realized something was amiss.

Suddenly, on the city news channel of television sets in many people's workplaces and homes, an abrupt speech appeared.

A man with one arm bandaged in white stood facing the camera, the fury in his eyes almost spilling off the screen.

“I am Tula Suo, the Deputy Leader of the Indigenous Party.”

“All citizens of Darwin City, no matter your race, your party affiliation, or which candidate you support, please remember this terrible day.”

“Just this morning, a group of bandits stormed into our meeting room at the Indigenous Party Headquarters, and mercilessly massacred us while we were holding a normal meeting!”

“This is the footage recorded during the meeting—”

As a shocking surveillance video aired, all viewers gasped in horror, covering their mouths.

Good heavens, what was happening on the television?

The screen switched back to Tula Suo's boundless expression of fury.

“These bandits, these terrorists, in order to force us to disband our party, actually carried out such a massacre!”

“Are we in a war-torn country?”

“Are we in the colonial period of centuries ago?”

“Then have we committed some sin that even God cannot forgive?”

“None of the above.”

“We are merely a legitimate party organization representing Indigenous interests and serving Indigenous residents, with no legal difference from other local organizations.”

“Then why are we subjected to such great malice?”

“Is it because our skin color is disliked by some?”

“Is it because we lived on this land earlier than some others?”

“If these are our original sins!”

“Then, from today onwards, we will no longer remain silent!”

Many citizens, regardless of their circumstances, whether watching on their phones, computers, or television sets in restaurants and other places, cheered.

They cried out against what had happened on screen, empathizing with the suffering of the other party.

A little earlier.

Mayor Cohen, who was on vacation, was suddenly rushed to City Hall.

The Mayor wanted very much to know what was going on with tens of thousands of Indigenous residents collectively taking to the streets in protest.

Why had no one reported it to him in advance?

Those were tens of thousands of Indigenous residents; almost all of Darwin City's Indigenous people were on the streets.

Among them were many elderly and children.

Such a nearly full-ethnic march, without resorting to large-scale violent means, was simply impossible to control.

Mayor Cohen: “In short, contact the Indigenous Party as soon as possible and ask them the reason for their street protest. If it's to commemorate the recently deceased Moe Water, everything is negotiable.”

“Yes—” many officials present replied.

Just then, the urgent ringing of a landline phone sounded in the conference room.

Mayor Cohen personally picked it up.

“This is Cohen, please speak.”

What was said on the other end caused Cohen's face to change dramatically.

“What? The city television station has been occupied? Quickly switch the footage they want to broadcast—”

Someone next to him asked, “Mayor, what's going on?”

Cohen's face was grim as he explained:

“Just now, a group of people who looked like Indigenous residents based on their skin color broke into and occupied the television station, coercing them to broadcast what they wanted.”

Soon, Tula Suo's previous speech content was displayed on the multimedia screen in the conference room.

When they saw the scene of men in camouflage uniforms bursting into the Indigenous Party meeting room with guns and massacring people.

Many people's hearts sank.

It's over.

Especially Mayor Cohen, whose heart felt as if it had been struck by a large stone.

He had given up running for re-election as Mayor precisely to retire peacefully.

But now, it seemed, that retirement was not going to happen.

And everyone was also pondering a crucial question:

Who exactly attacked the Aboriginal Party Headquarters?

——

If viewed from the sky, the main streets of Darwin City were filled with marching crowds.

They chanted slogans, held banners, carried portraits of the deceased, and lifted coffins, moving forward like a tide.

Then, all these currents converged at one point and headed north of Darwin City.

Finally, everyone stopped at one place.

This place was the U.S. Military's Darwin Air Force Base.

Endless crowds, a dark, dense mass, stretched as far as the eye could see.

Inside Darwin Military Base.

The base guards who discovered this scene were startled and quickly called from the guard post.

Soon, an alarm sounded at the base.

Colonel Phelps, the base commander, had a massive headache.

Although he had been inside the base, he had naturally heard about the major events happening in Darwin City.

But he thought that no matter what happened, it would no longer be related to their base.

After all, he had been restraining the people at the base so much these days.

So why were these citizens marching to the base?

Phelps had no choice but to go outside and see for himself.