Chapter 435 - 407 Falling Behind Means Doing Dirty Work

"Radiation will harm your DNA, causing deformities in your limbs..."

"We’re perfectly fine, aren’t we?"

Mos, a Tanzanian official, was patiently explaining these problems to his fellow countrymen.

But it all seemed futile.

Due to Wakanda’s control over the African Union, most officials in the alliance were educated intellectuals, at least not illiterate.

Mos had even studied in France, fluent in French, English, and local dialects. Although his major wasn’t nuclear energy, he knew about radiation and worker protection.

His fellow countrymen didn’t.

These ragged men would take any job available. The pay at Mkuju River wasn’t much higher than other jobs, but it was stable.

For a stable income, many were willing to sell their souls. Mining was just hard work; they didn’t see any problem with it.

The man who answered scratched his head and chuckled, "It’s not you; you can make money just like that."

He rubbed a few fingers together, seemingly implying that officials like Mos could make money with a flick of their fingers.

Mos was infuriated, almost wanting to slap his fellow countryman.

"I care about your labor protection, and you accuse me of corruption for making quick money?!"

The man grinned, "Brother, don’t get angry. What’s your deal?"

"Did you listen to what I just said?!"

"You don’t even wear any safety gear yourself..."

Before he finished, he shut his mouth.

A robot walked by behind Mos, controlled by Lille.

Earlier, he had upgraded the camp’s testing equipment on this basic robot to monitor the radiation levels in the camp.

The radiation levels in the workplace were off the charts, especially outside the mine tunnels where radon gas was detected, clearly exceeding safe levels.

Radon is a radioactive gas. Normally, these areas should be sealed off, but it was evident that the mining company had not taken such measures.

Lille handed Mos a set of protective gear used by the mining crew.

"Radiation levels are excessive. It’s worse inside, but it’s better to wear the protective suit."

Looking around, the soldiers of the Atlas Group had also added protective plates to their exoskeleton suits.

The man had nothing more to say.

Just called up from the mine, he wasn’t aware of what had happened. But seeing the leaders in protective suits...

It probably was serious.

Lille glanced at the bewildered workers; he knew that merely imparting knowledge wouldn’t quickly improve their safety awareness.

As he walked toward the mine, he murmured, "Wear the protective suits and wait in the rest area. I’ll take some photos so you can claim compensation from these companies."

A few workers hesitated, eager but looking towards a baffled Mos.

The latter waved his hand impatiently, "Go on, hurry up!"

He then followed Lille.

"Mr. Lee! Mr. Lee... How are things here?"

"Not good. Radon gas is leaking, and the land outside is highly radioactive. They must have buried mining waste shallowly."

"What about the people here...?"

"In the past, I’d say they were beyond help." Lille spread aside a wooden beam, "The radiation levels are off the charts. Worse, they barely use respiratory protection, and radioactive dust in the lungs causes permanent damage."

This was more severe than silicosis and just as incurable.

Inhaling radioactive dust meant lifelong radiation exposure from the lungs.

But it wasn’t entirely hopeless.

"But now, with future technological breakthroughs, we might replace their lungs, and they could live a long time."

Clearing the rubble, Lille saw the collapsed mine pit caused by a tunneling error.

Clearly, Uranium-10 Company had cut costs to the bone.

Africans might not be easy to manage but were cheap. $100 could buy them for a month, far from urban oversight.

Uranium mining was technical; applications even more so. If the Tanzanian government pushed these foreign companies out, they couldn’t monetize the minerals.

No money, no development, no economic sustenance...

The former Minister of Mines might have known but chose to ignore it.

Mos looked pensive, "We need to shut this place down."

"That’s unrealistic," Lille said, advancing with a detector, "Some have worked here since 2005, thinking they found good jobs, got married, and had kids."

"That sounds good."

"It’s not. Their health deteriorates over time. But their children are different. Many are born with congenital diseases and slight deformities. I asked around, some old employees know it isn’t normal work, but they need money to treat their kids."

"This..." Mos was stunned, "Do they know?"

"Not yet, but they will soon. Didn’t you arrange for someone to explain it to them?"

Everyone has their logic and cognition; once knowledge aligns with these, their minds will upgrade.

Angry shouts came from outside the mine:

"... I’ll kill... those...!"

Mos fell silent again.

Educated in France, he knew the French would never be treated this way.

If forced to work overtime, they’d riot at City Hall. Miners in vests?

Joking; with that energy, they’d better implement labor protection.

But he knew his countrymen lacked skills, knowledge, even foresight; essentially, they lacked education; their thinking was archaic.

Making them think, labor, and fight for their rights like those in developed countries...

Impossible, and unlikely.

They lagged far behind, not just in technology.

Lille picked up a brown stone beside the rock wall, applied slight pressure with a hydraulic arm, crushed the surface, wiped off the dust, revealing its glassy interior.

The Mkuju River deposit existed in his world, and the ore quality seemed consistent across both.

"Quality’s good, but don’t worry too much. Based on Africa’s current electricity usage, this vein will last you decades."

"Decades...?"

"Yes, just the explored reserves. Could be more inside. Adding plutonium to the reactor could extend it..."

Just then, Lille received an urgent message.

[Sender: T’Challa]

[T’Challa: Lille, Mei Army has landed in Somalia! They have planes... bzz... this morning...]

[Bzz...]

Lille was stunned, Mei Army had taken Somalia?

How did T’Challa know?

Planes...?

Before he could ponder further, remote communication was cut; Frank’s voice replaced it.

[Frank: Boss, seems there’s something in the sky...]

[Frank: It’s a transport aircraft! They’re air-dropping! Prepare for combat, hold you... bzz...]

[Bzz...]

[Enemy attack!]

...

Outside the mine, Frank held his gun while standing watch in the lookout tower, surveying the sky as the camp was quiet.

Africa’s sky was very blue and had high visibility, especially on such a sunny day.

Lille liked having him shoot some scenic videos with the Cyber Modulator, and he was happy to oblige: he could show them to his wife and kids.

The high-power observation lens built into his helmet allowed him to lock onto eagles high in the sky, shooting unique wildlife footage.

"Spring has come... another mating season..."

Frank scanned the sky, luck on his side, quickly locking onto a moving object.

But it didn’t seem like...

It looked familiar?

Zooming in fully, Frank felt a chill:

That thing was indeed familiar.

It was a Mei Army transport plane!

Iron Soldiers hung beneath it, the plane quickly arrived over the camp...

They were air-dropping directly!