novelaction Chapter 1080 I also have a dream
Chapter 1080 I also have a dream
In August, the heatwave in Washington, D.C., had not yet subsided. But the crowds in front of the Lincoln Memorial were even more overwhelming than the heat.
Two hundred and fifty thousand people, a dark mass, covered every inch of the lawn from the Memorial to the Washington Monument. They sat, stood, and waited quietly.
Some people wore their best Sunday shirts, some wore faded work clothes still stained with Tennessee dirt, and some held faded signs with simple words written on them: "Work," "Freedom," and "Equality Now."
Sunlight streamed down from behind the Lincoln statue, casting a somber glow over the eternally pensive giant.
On the steps of the memorial, a Black man stood in front of a microphone. He was not tall, but he had a strange sense of weight.
He stood before 250,000 people, and behind him stood Lincoln, who had freed the slaves.
The voice came from the loudspeaker, carrying the unique rhythm of Southern Baptist preachers—deep, slow, yet like waves, it surged into every corner of the square.
"I have a dream..."
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted in a thunderous roar.
Two white men in dark suits stood at the edge, somewhat out of place among the excited black faces around them, but they blended in subtly into the crowd of supporters and did not stand out too much.
The tall one is Jack Adams—the leader of the American delegation who was thoroughly outmaneuvered by the Chinese delegation at the IEC conference two weeks ago with his "Big Yellow Second Generation" programming language and C language skills.
The man next to him wearing gold-rimmed glasses was his close friend and colleague, Dr. Witt.
Dr. Witt listened more attentively than Jack, his blue eyes behind his glasses gleaming with a complex light.
"...I dream that one day, on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit at the same table as brothers..."
Dr. Witt's gaze swept across the crowd, landing on the perpetually melancholic face of the Lincoln statue. He suddenly spoke in a low voice, his words drowned out by the cheers, barely audible to Jack beside him:
"No, that's not fair."
Jack turned his head slightly to look at him.
Dr. Witt's gaze remained fixed on the Lincoln statue as he continued in a voice only the two of them could hear: "He didn't include our situation. There will never be anyone standing on that platform for us, never anyone shouting 'I have a dream' for us."
Dr. Witt's fingers lightly touched the back of Jack's naturally hanging hand at his side, the touch fleeting, so quick it seemed like an unintentional brush.
Jack froze for a fraction of a second before returning to normal.
He shrugged, his gaze sweeping over the crowd engrossed in their speeches, a slightly mocking smile playing on his lips. He responded in a low voice, "Relax, dear Witt. At least here, today, nobody's going to notice where our hands are. As for that little incident at the IEC conference..."
He paused, his tone carrying a sense of confidence:
"Most of the reporters on site 'understood' and 'respected' the 'professionalism' of the technical discussions. Having received their travel expenses, they knew what to write and what not to write in detail. The remaining few tabloids, even if they published something, couldn't stir up any trouble."
My family is gradually declining...
Jack chuckled self-deprecatingly: "But the name 'Adams' did, after all, resonate twice in the White House. Some residual influence is enough to make a few potentially unpleasant reports 'disappear' or 'become boring.'"
Dr. Witt finally turned his gaze away from the podium and looked intently at Jack.
Sunlight refracted through his lenses, reflecting a strange brilliance in his eyes.
He didn't address the reporters' or the topics discussed in the news, but instead suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated, yet groundbreaking, question:
"Jack, have you ever thought about... having a third leader in your family?"
Jack almost burst out laughing, as if he'd heard an absurd joke, but seeing Dr. Witt's unusually serious gaze, the laughter caught in his throat, turning into a deeper, bitter smile.
"You know perfectly well what the Adams family has left now, besides the name and some fading old connections."
Influence? That little bit of influence is utterly insignificant compared to the real money and political newcomers.
Wealth? Very little remains.
The leader? That's a position that requires astronomical sums of money, a massive political machine, and ubiquitous media support to even dream of. We…”
Jack shook his head, the meaning of which was self-evident.
"No, we have a chance!" Dr. Witt's voice was fervent, but fortunately, the crowd began to cheer, drowning out his loud shouts.
But he grabbed Jack's arm with considerable force: "Chinese! Jack, think about what the Chinese showed at the IEC conference! Their computers, and that language called 'C'!"
I have a strong feeling, my dear, that the Chinese people have unintentionally or intentionally pushed open a door, behind which lies a great and brand new era!
An era belonging to silicon wafers, code, and information!
Dr. Witt yanked Jack's hand hard again: "Look at those bulky and expensive IBM machines. Only big companies and governments can afford them! And look at the Chinese 'Big Yellow' machines!"
Its design philosophy, its portability, and especially its language... it is concise, powerful, like a poem born for machines to think!
This is not just a technological gap, it's a generational gap!
Whoever can seize this generational gap will become a trendsetter in the new era, possessing the power to define the rules!
Jack remained silent for a long time.
The speech continued in the distance, the baritone voice with a southern accent washing over the square like a tide:
"...Let the voice of freedom resound across the majestic mountains of New Hampshire..."
“Your proposition…” Jack finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, “is too broad.”
“Not much.” Dr. Witt stared intently at him. “First, we need Franklin.”
Jack paused for a moment, then realized—it wasn't President Franklin, but the Franklin printed on the hundred-dollar bill.
money.
Lots and lots of money.
"The more the better."
Jack seemed to understand something. He tilted his head and looked at his partner, who possessed both genius and madness: "You mean...?"
Dr. Witter uttered the suggestion, word by word, a suggestion that sounded almost absurd to others:
"Let's become agents for Chinese people."
"They're not just ordinary distributors; they're their exclusive technology partners and promoters in North America, and even the entire Western world! We'll talk to them and get the sales authorization for 'Big Yellow' computers!"
More importantly, we need to obtain the C language specification, compiler, and everything related to it! We can form a company—no, an alliance—to promote this computer and this language standard!
"Think about it, Jack! If we can successfully popularize this cheaper, and perhaps more flexible, computer, and this efficient language, especially in universities, research institutions, and emerging software and hardware companies... what will we become? We will become the key node connecting the future computing world!"
We will have the power to define the initial standards of an emerging industry! Influence, money, and connections will follow!
By then, will it still be a distant dream for an "Adams" with immense influence in emerging industries and substantial financial resources to return to the center of the political stage?
Dr. Witt stared intently into Jack's eyes, as if trying to instill his conviction and fervor into him: "And this isn't just business, Jack. Think of Dr. King's speech..."
He dreams of an equal society. And in our small world, if we could stand at the pinnacle of wealth and influence brought about by technology, perhaps…
Perhaps we can also be more powerful to push for some changes, even if it's just a little, so that people like us don't have to hide in the shadows forever.
We can support those members of parliament who are willing to speak up for us, and even...
When you are powerful enough, you can change the laws yourself. You don't need many, just enough to allow us to walk hand-in-hand in the sunlight, just like anyone here today!
In front of the Lincoln Memorial, Dr. King's speech reached its climax with the famous line, "Finally free! Finally free! Thank God Almighty, we are finally free!"
The sound echoed in the air above the square, eliciting a thunderous and deafening response.
"You're crazy." Jack tugged at his collar, the usually impeccably tailored tie suddenly making him feel suffocated.
“Perhaps,” Dr. Witt smiled slightly, “but Lincoln was also said to be crazy. Jesus was also said to be crazy.”
Jack stared at him for a long time.
Then he turned and looked at the black preacher standing in the shadow of the Lincoln statue, igniting the passion of 250,000 people with his dream.
“So,” he suddenly spoke, his voice becoming very soft, as if he were talking to himself, “this is the ‘era’ you’re talking about?”
Dr. Witt did not answer.
He simply stood beside Jack, also looking in that direction.
Two men in dark suits stood on the edge of a crowd of 250,000 people, in the sunlight of this moment, in some corner of history.
Nobody knows what they're talking about.
No one knew that what they were thinking about wasn't a country, but rather, "I also have a dream."
Although this dream is somewhat rosy...
—There's still money.
Lots and lots of money.