Capítulo 3176: Chapter 2324: Gotham Music Festival (26)_1

Clark kept his explanation as brief as possible to Hal, saying, "Ever since I met Professor Shearer, I realized that people's emotional pain often weighs heavier than physical pain and that the soul needs help more than the body does. Unless absolutely necessary, we should not add any emotional stress to them by any means, or it could lead to irreversible consequences."

"If they remain determined, we can still make progress with just our support. If they collapse under too much pressure, nothing we do will be of any help."

"The human soul is more fragile than we think, so if they show resistance, we might need to slow down and not force them into anything."

"During the day, I felt Oliver's pain, but he still had his wits about him. He hadn't fallen apart or given up on himself, so I believe his coming here is his way of trying to turn the situation around, not a plan to commit suicide."

"In this case, it's probably better for us to watch from the sidelines and quietly offer help. Rashly disrupting his plan might only cause him to lose his mental balance. What do you think?"

Hal leaned against the wall and sat down on the ground, not looking at Clark but staring at the ocean and said, "You've matured, Clark. I still vaguely remember how you wanted to rush in and drive away those people like a madman when you first arrived in Mexico."

Clark shrugged and laughed, sitting down next to Hal, saying, "Who doesn't have impulsive moments? Weren't you the same? If it weren't for Oliver holding us back, we'd have spent all our time fighting with drug lords' bodyguards."

Both fell silent, sitting outside the pier's waiting room, feeling the sea breeze and watching the waves, watching the mysterious Dakotazo approaching from the distant horizon. The ripples spreading out from the ship's wake formed white traces like a giant seagull.

"Wait a second." As if suddenly remembering something, Hal said, "I saw someone in the waiting room just now who might know what happened to Oliver."

"Who?"

"Tupac, the rapper from California, just like Oliver."

"But Oliver said he didn't know him, right?"

Hal got up from the ground, dusted off his hands, straightened his slightly wrinkled suit trousers and said, "Yes, they might not have known each other before, but don't forget what Oliver implied in his words. He wants to meet him, especially when he is facing a big problem."

Clark also stood up and said, "Right, no one's in the mood for small talk when facing great pressure. Even though Oliver seemed relaxed, he must be on edge. Everything he said at that time was meaningful."

No sooner had Clark finished speaking than he turned toward the waiting room, but Hal stopped him, pausing to recall something and saying, "I remember Tupac is currently facing some trouble."

It then dawned on Clark that all the guests here without boat tickets were facing some unsolvable trouble, seeking to board the ship for a do-or-die attempt.

The fact that Tupac was there indicated he was also in trouble. But would bringing up Oliver's problem only add to his stress?

By then, Hal had already begun walking past Clark into the room, saying as he went, "Oliver didn't want to tell us his troubles, probably because he thought we couldn't solve them either, and that's likely true. We all know he's walking on the edge of a cliff, and no one can guarantee they have the earth-shaking power to fill that gap."

"But the trouble Tupac is facing might be much simpler. He's just a rapper who I heard had some disputes with some East Coast rap groups. This kind of trouble is a piece of cake for us; we can totally help him out and then figure out what's really going on with Oliver."

Clark obviously thought it made sense. The two of them went back inside the waiting room and saw Tupac huddled in a corner of the room.

He was a slim African American, even skinnier than most of his peers. Without his glittering gold chains, earrings full of studs, gangster rap gestures, he looked just like an ordinary young black man—quiet and mute in the corner, barely recognizable as a superstar.

Even though the situation for African Americans in America was still not great, world-famous superstars were recognized, and it wasn't as if the upper class was devoid of vanity. If they realized that the King of West Coast rap was here, they'd surely flock to him for photos.

Hal figured that Tupac's disguise was likely a choice not to draw attention, so the two approached quietly from the side of the wall.

Hal called out "Tupac" in a low voice. The young black man looked around, surprised, and when he noticed two strangers, he turned away and sighed, "Okay, it's me. Don't shout it out, autographs and photos are fine."

Clearly, Tupac mistook them for fans. However, what surprised Hal was his very cordial attitude; he didn't speak like many's stereotype of rappers, with no aggressiveness in his tone—almost gentle, in fact.

"Hi, we just saw you over there in the room. Are you a tourist here to enjoy the cruise?" Clark chose to stand beside Hal and not to approach Tupac from the other side, knowing it might be intimidating. After all, both he and Hal were built men—two white guys cornering a black man could easily trigger a defensive response.

Tupac waved his hand and said, "It's too hot in the middle. I'll stay here for a while, but you probably won't see me on the ship."

He assumed Clark and Hal were just tourists with tickets, not on the same mission as him. True as that may have been, Clark and Hal could tell his mind was elsewhere, and he was being dismissive.

"Well, we actually wanted to have a chat with you."

As these words were spoken, the young Black man instantly became vigilant. Squinting his eyes, he looked at Hal and said, "You're not my fans; who are you? What do you want with me?"

Hal and Clark both thought this wariness was normal. In this era, the segregation between Blacks and Whites was still quite severe, and the anti-discrimination movement wasn't as legitimate as in later times. It was just getting started, Blacks wary of Whites and Whites wary of Blacks.

If one were to use a vivid analogy to describe the relationship between Blacks and Whites during this period, it would be that Whites were the homeowners, with everything in the house serving them, including furniture, appliances, and even guns and ammunition. Blacks were the tenants, some of whom were allowed to use these things, but the vast majority living a primitive life in modern society.

Once conflict arose between Blacks and Whites, Whites had absolute control over everything in the house. They could easily evict unwanted tenants and then move in another group that was more compliant.

Therefore, most Blacks tended to avoid conflicts with Whites. Living in a warehouse was better than living in a yard, which in turn was better than being evicted. This is how many Blacks thought.

So even though they were excluded from the medical, legal, and security systems, they still preferred to be the tail of a phoenix in a powerful and wealthy country. And those intense anti-race discrimination movements that people imagined were just the Radical Faction being loud, not indicative of their numbers or representative of the collective will of Blacks at that time.

To avoid provoking Tupac, Hal could only speak in a softened tone, "We mean no harm. We just didn't expect to encounter a celebrity here, but more importantly, we've heard a friend of ours mention you."

Tupac was unmoved, even showing a hint of disgust, but seemingly out of consideration, he didn't snap back.

Hal and Clark both felt helpless as they deeply experienced the harm of racial discrimination. Anything two Whites said to a Black person sounded like bullying.

Mentioning encountering a big star here sounded like mockery, and with a bit more malice, it could seem as if they were saying, "You think someone like you deserves to be a big star?"

And saying that a friend had mentioned Tupac sounded like mocking the friend's taste, as if listening to a Black rapper was something to be scoffed at.

Although both of them were only stating facts without any harm intended, the backdrop of the times meant that the two parties simply couldn't communicate.

Clark could sense that Tupac's psychological pressure was increasing, and he didn't want to continue like this. After all, if Tupac was heading into a life-or-death gamble, their interference could pose a threat to him.

However, just then, a young man wearing a duckbill cap slipped over from the side of the wall. Removing his cap, Hal and Clark realized he was another White man.

He was dressed in a black T-shirt with gray arm sleeves, bleached jeans that were starting to whiten, a crew cut, and inconspicuous gunmetal earrings. His skin was slightly sunburned, the kind of common White person you could easily encounter on any American street, quite different from the wealthy individuals in this entire room.

"I must say, with so many people here, do you two really have to stand right here?" The White man scanned Hal and Clark with a piercing gaze and said, "Is there something special about this guy here, or are you some kind of undercover cops?"

While it sounded as if he was mocking Tupac for being a criminal, they could clearly detect that the young White man was trying to intervene.

This took Hal and Clark by surprise.

Firstly, Hal and Clark were indeed both White, but more importantly, they were of the very strong sort among Whites. Hal was somewhat better, with a robust and well-proportioned figure, like a perennial gym aficionado, but Clark was more exaggerated. Such muscle-bound figures were usually seen in classical bodybuilding competitions, his thighs almost as thick as Tupac's waist.

As is well known, gym fitness is not a cheap hobby, especially professional bodybuilding. Muscles with smooth lines but smaller in size might belong to a physical labourer, but large and dry muscles were definitely a sign of wealth.

Strong and wealthy Whites were the most untouchable people in this country, simply because you wouldn't even get a chance to lash out at them. It didn't matter whether they were on steroids or not; bigger muscles meant greater strength.

In an America where excessive force was rampant, two strong White men like this exerted immense pressure, because you never knew if one would pin you down and strangle you right there.

The Floyd case had been such a sensation precisely because it happened so late. Before the year 2000, such incidents would not occur every week, but almost daily at the borders of Black and White communities, and nobody cared.

So the fact that this young White man stood up for a Black person was stunning, even bordering on the absurdity of Gotham.

Tupac was clearly shocked as well. He lifted a drooping eyelid to scrutinize the young White man, an expression of sudden realization dawning on his face.

"What's your name?" Hal asked.

"Call me Eminem."

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