Alan now almost fully grasped the two distinct types of homeless people. One group comprised the runaways and the depraved – those mired in idleness, drug addiction, and mental illness, simply waiting for death.
The other, far more complex, consisted of individuals driven to the streets by bankruptcy or various family calamities. Among them were many highly educated and accomplished people.
There were senior programmers wandering after their companies folded, and doctors of science who, despite once working at tech giants like Microsoft and Compaq, found themselves homeless after spending all their money on medical treatments. Veterans registered with death certificates, millionaires whose companies had crashed, stars shackled by astronomical debts, and even redneck old couples supplementing their income by picking bottles after harvest season. There were even once-glorious city councilors, cyberbullied into destitution by political rivals' fabricated "inappropriate remarks," evicted from their homes, and forced onto the streets because they couldn't pay the exorbitant rent. These were all, in their own right, talents.
But the vast majority were simply societal cast-offs, unable to find work, and the poor, utterly helpless in their wandering. In America, it seemed, you needed a house to get a job, and money to rent a house. But if you had no money for rent, you could only earn it through work first. Once your credit went bankrupt, it was akin to breaking the ecological cycle; you were eliminated, unable to re-enter. From law-abiding citizens to looters and arsonists, from heaven to hell – this was the underlying logic of the credit system. Without credit, you couldn't rent a house or find a job, and you would starve. What else could you do but beg, "go shopping" (steal), pick up garbage, or sell your body?
The more fortunate among the homeless could live in their cars, establishing stable camps and forming supportive groups. The less fortunate were confined to tents or, worse, slept directly on the streets. Having a car, even without a house, counted as a credit asset and could secure a low-level job, though typically maxing out at $2,000 a month. This was in California, a state with one of the highest minimum hourly wages; many other states offered a meager $7.25, and a select few as low as $5.15. After federal, state, and personal income taxes, plus daily consumption taxes, saving money was impossible. You could barely make ends meet, living an existence even less appealing than street wandering.
Without a job and being homeless, you might receive hundreds of dollars in monthly subsidies, SNAP coupons, social welfare, free food, and public health checkups – simply because you were classified as a vulnerable group. But with a low-level job, you had to pay taxes, rent, utilities, food, and labor, and any debts had to be settled first. Not only would you lose your monthly subsidies, but without food coupons, shelters would cease all aid. Why? Because you were no longer considered a vulnerable group.
Homelessness, for society, was a topic that garnered attention, easily generating headlines, even if it was just a superficial exercise to maintain a "white left" image. For the same news, no one cared how an ordinary poor person lived. People were more concerned with why a homeless person wandered and what "story" they had. Fabricate two sob stories, and people's saintly hearts would overflow – it was an almost inherent trait.
A famous case involved a homeless man who used his last $20 to buy gasoline for a stranded female driver. He performed the good deed anonymously, only to be interviewed by the woman and her boyfriend, who posted the story online. It went viral, leading to over $400,000 in donations on GoFundMe. Later, it was discovered to be a scam. The couple absconded with the money, and due to an uneven distribution of spoils, the homeless man sued them. All three were eventually imprisoned for fraud. After this incident, it became nearly impossible for that homeless man to generate sympathy online or beg on the street.
Having a job and a house might prevent discrimination or biased views. Though you suffered, worked tirelessly like a beast of burden, you retained your dignity. But dignity couldn't be eaten. It would take an agonizingly long time to accumulate enough money and credit points to rent a formal house, to no longer live in a motel, for life to return to normal.
The notion that finding a low-level job and earning a mere thousand dollars a month through hard work somehow meant breaking "heaven's law," leading to the immediate loss of so much social welfare, was unbearable for many. If homeless people could live without working, why work so hard? Of course, this might be the sentiment of many who had resigned themselves to their fate, but it didn't represent everyone.
Not all homeless individuals settled for the status quo. Especially the former elites, those who were ambitious and had tasted the good life, who had once lived in paradise. They were often consumed by a desperate drive to climb back. Some, like Dominic, wandered the streets due to family problems. He carried no debts, no credit issues, and no bad habits. Even if he didn't wake early and stay up late to pick cans, he could exchange his blue passport for a few hundred dollars in subsidies each month. He lived a decent life, retaining the hope of eventually getting out and back on track.
But Dominic had long grown accustomed to wandering, and his daily contacts were almost exclusively other homeless people. It was difficult for him to integrate into normal society, and he lacked conventional skills. Ask him to calculate how many cans it would take to buy a building, and he could give you an answer in less than a second – his mind was perpetually filled with cans. How many cans are in a cup of coffee, a sandwich, a car? But ask him to sit in an office, type on a keyboard, study the stock market, or run an advertising campaign? He couldn't. Dominic couldn't live without cans, just as the homeless couldn't live without relief meals.
No wonder some people categorized the homeless, and why some weren't willing to protest on the streets. There were indeed reasons for this. Many were once highly educated, accustomed to red wine and champagne, luxury cars, possessing able bodies, dignity, ideals, and a fighting spirit, only to be crushed by cruel reality. But as long as you avoided pornography, gambling, and drugs, worked hard, saved money, built credit, rented a house, and found a job, you could eventually climb ashore. Even if it meant standing on the roadside, cleaning car windows for a dollar a pop, or being a can recycler, consistent accumulation could lead to a comeback. But it required immense willpower and perseverance. Opioids and legalized "leaves" were also a hurdle that many long-term homeless individuals found hard to bypass.
Even if you truly made it ashore, you would find yourself facing all kinds of tax clauses, advertising bombardment traps, the nine-to-five grind, office intrigues, endless troubles, and the constant threat of a credit crisis or even bankruptcy! Looking back, it might seem better to just stay put. As the saying goes, if you are homeless for a while, you will be homeless for a lifetime. Wandering the streets was an attitude; buying a car and renting a house was just a process that often brought you right back to square one.
After listening to Dominic's experiences, Alan truly felt that living in America was incredibly taxing. A paradise for the rich, and a hell for the poor. He just wanted to make sure his own life wouldn't be so hard.
The two sat on the old sofa and talked for a long time. After changing the topic, their conversation became relatively relaxed. Their new subjects were the usual male interests: games, food, guns, fighting, and "female donors" from certain video platforms.
Seeing that it was getting late, Dominic got up and returned to his tent. He packed his belongings, then walked out with a bundle of personal items. "Alan, you sleep in my tent today, and I'll stay in my friend's tent."
"Very good arrangement," Alan nodded. He had been wondering if it would be awkward to sleep in a stranger's tent, but Dominic had already thought of it.
"Good night, Alan."
"Good night, Dominic."
Alan stepped into the blue tent. It was his first time experiencing survival in the wild, and it felt somewhat novel. But sleepiness soon took over, and he drifted off.
The next day, Alan was awakened by the reminder from [Daily Intelligence].
[Daily Intelligence: Bali Relief Food Truck will provide double cheese beef burger meals, 330ml Pepsi, and cream ice cream cake at 9:30 on Stan Street.]
[Daily Intelligence: Carnation Club at No. 134, Watson Street, there are a lot of recyclable cans and transparent beverage bottles in the green trash can in the alley.]
[Daily Intelligence: A homeless man died in the alley on 27th Street in the Fifth District. He had $3.80 in his back pocket.]
Another homeless man died? The death rate seemed a bit high. It really deserved its reputation as the "free West Coast."
Looking at the time, it was already 8:45. Alan didn't hesitate and decisively chose to wake his good neighbor, Dominic, who was still sleeping. If he were a step later, they would miss dinner.