Elliot, of course, had heard of them, and his mind turned:
"The Rothschild family!"
Sevens rolled his eyes toward the sky: "There was such a family, but they had an accident during the millennium...
If they were still around, perhaps they could be made nobility."
"Ah? But now everywhere online they’re talking about the mysterious Rothschild family being the Golden Son..."
"Millennium New Year’s Eve, their estate was hit with a gas grenade attack, just like that," Sevens shrugged, "Now they’re talked about online partly because they’re basically extinct, and those who survived don’t have much assets.
The Golden Son doesn’t like appearing in public; they’re constantly whispered about, yet everything ’eye-catching’ you feel is related to them.
If they start liking chess, within a week rare resources and luxury materials will be made into chess pieces and sold out, everyone will follow suit, and a week later chess will be out of stock.
After all, you saw it: the maintenance cost for just the things he carries could sustain a small to dium-sized business...
With such fat sheep, who would still care about the poor peasants?"
Millennium New Year’s Eve occurred on January 1, 2000. Berlin hosted the world’s largest millennium party which was attacked by a cult releasing poison gas, causing tens of thousands of direct deaths.
This event has always been a commorative event within the European Union, often serving as a key point in online debates:
It was precisely because the European Barrier System wasn’t fully mature at the ti that the poison gas incident occurred.
If a comprehensive monitoring system had been implented earlier, would such incidents have happened?
Elliot certainly knew, though it was his first ti realizing this incident led to the downfall of the... Golden Son family.
Sevens looked out the window at the Leifield Saint Sword Company pulling further away from the train:
"The Graham family holds substantial shares within the Leifield Company, so the appearance of this car was expected."
"Hold on..." Elliot had a flash of insight, suddenly realizing sothing strange from the words just spoken, "How many of these Golden Sons did you say there are?
The jewelry on just one instructor is enough to sustain a small to dium company, so..."
Sevens turned back, speaking with significant aning: "You’ve found the key point: Yes, the entire European Union is under the control of the Golden Son.
Any mber among them, who may not even be a senior mber, has wealth sufficient to disrupt the operation and strategic direction of a large company, and if he wants to do sothing, he can directly counter a large enterprise.
That’s exactly why anything they say could beco the beacon of the capitalist market in the future.
When they sit together, cross-national giant corporations must sit peacefully to talk...
You might even argue that the European Union listens only to them."
"But we’ve always elected our representatives through voting..."
"Brother." Sevens laughed, a bit sarcastically, "You can’t even control your own devices, how can you ensure your vote still reads the sa na when it’s counted?
Electing a representative... Let tell you, they know who will take office before the election ends, and they can use any ans to get rid of those who are displeasing; without their permission, nothing will happen—"
"You say that as if their existence is clear, yet didn’t you ntion..."
"When you beco a European Community Civil Servant, an agent in a special company like Network Supervision, as long as you work for a period, you always find the legend isn’t false, and it’s even quite absurd.
Wasn’t it trendy not long ago that scenario where the Rothschild family got taken down by the European Union police?
In reality, in Berlin, if the Golden Son slaughters children on an entire street with a bow, a single phone call will send him and those bodies back to his estate!"
Sevens clearly beca very emotional at this point, as if he wasn’t speaking taphorically but stating a fact.
Lille and Johnny simultaneously appeared in Elliot’s sight, both analyzing the European Community Civil Servant...
[Johnny: Why is he so worked up?]
[Lille: I don’t know, it’s indeed not normal; typically, those involved in cyber politics have a mont of self-reflection only when sleeping at night, those who actually do it are...]
[Johnny: Those who actually do sothing end up like , becoming cyber ghosts. Do you think he has a problem?]
[Lille: Definitely has a problem.]
Lille looked at Elliot:
[Lille: But it has nothing to do with us, if anything, the more passionate the better.]
Before Elliot could respond, Sevens cald himself and wiped his face: "Of course, they generally wouldn’t do such a thing.
But now you must understand, Berlin isn’t Foxstone, Bruges, or Bren; people you casually encounter there might be such major figures..."
"Then why are we going to Berlin?" Elliot suddenly felt a bit lost, "If there are none of our people there, what’s the point of us going?"
"Don’t forget... without their permission, nothing will happen."
After saying this, Sevens fell silent, quietly watching the Floating Car outside the window moving farther away.
Other train carriages carried the envy and reverence children and citizens had for the Floating Car in the sky.
"Mom! It’s a Floating Car!"
"Looks like a big player’s Floating Car, you must study hard, only by going to college can you have a chance to et such big players..."
"I wish I had the chance to et such benefactors, to enter that circle..."
"The car seems to have so unseen elents; make a note."
As if hearing these voices, the Graham inside the car rolled down the window and gave the people aboard a friendly smile, even waving occasionally.
So were quick enough to have already used their Prosthetic Eye to take pictures; perhaps the dia would be interested in these photographs.
This once again brought Elliot a strong sense of contrast: In Sevens’ words, these Golden Sons are the real outlaws; compared to Burger King, they could even commit cris without punishnt...
Yet they are admired!
Their every move is watched by the masses as trends, companies view them as indicators, civil servants repeatedly mull over their words as decrees—
In reality, they are indeed decrees, for these Golden Sons have titles of nobility.
Sevens bowed his head, starting to review the data stored within his chip: "By the way, theoretically Golden Son specifically refers to a generation... or you can understand them as the true title holders, the Clan Leader of the family.
People like Graham, the instructor, we’re more willing to call him a ’Golden Child,’ that is, the son of the Golden Son.
Perhaps he’s here to gain prestige, intending to continue propelling this movent, or wanting to develop political resources along with the trend...
However, his joining is good news for us, at the very least now it indicates that the Golden Son allows this thing to happen.
We must seize the opportunity."
Sevens’s Prosthetic Eye slightly glead, indicating that although not a traditional technocrat, Sevens hadn’t abandoned serious study.
His eyes shone, he sat upright and proper on the chair, as if everything around him were irrelevant.
Lille looked at this civil servant, rubbing his chin without speaking.
[Munemasa: Wondering if you’re thinking the sa thing as ; this one with credentials seems more suitable for our plan, rather than Elliot.]
[Johnny: I actually think the kid has his highlights too; at the very least he’s already here.]
The carriage fell silent for a mont, until soone cheered again for sothing else.
"It’s a whale!"
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