pappabearbooks Chapter 119 The Prototype of Film and the White Resistance
Chapter 119 The Prototype of Film and the White Resistance
Chapter 119 The Prototype of Film and the White Resistance
late at night.
Inside the respective command posts of the three armies, Chongyue and his companions discussed the battle situation.
"There shouldn't be any problems here in Southern California."
Chongyue rolled himself a cigarette, striking a match to light it. He took a deep drag, the smoke slowly escaping from his nostrils.
"Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Bernardino, the three major cities, have all been taken over. What remains are settlements and small towns scattered along the coastline and in the valleys. They can be cleared out gradually without causing much of a stir."
He flicked his cigarette ash and added, "The captured white slaves boarded the ship this afternoon and will set sail tomorrow morning. They'll arrive in San Jose the day after tomorrow. Zhang Wu, remember to arrange for someone to receive them."
"Understood."
Zhang Wu replied, "I have no problems on my end either. The two companies that were spun off from the Second Regiment captured Monterey this afternoon and are currently clearing out the white people in the city."
"Once the security forces arrive, the troops under Xinghan Hall will continue to march south, advancing along the coastline and capturing many cities south of the Central Valley, until they join up with your subordinates, Chongyue."
John's voice carried a bold spirit: "I'm even worse off here. Sacramento has been taken, and the top leaders of the Democratic and American parties have all been killed."
"It's just that some insignificant white people fled east to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I'll lead a team to clean them up slowly later."
"Don't underestimate your enemy."
Guilliman's voice rang out, "The plains are fine, but if white people gather in the mountains and become gangsters, they are very likely to harass and plunder our gold mines in the mountains and the towns we have built nearby."
"Make contingency plans in advance. I will also have the Dark Angels prepare so that if this happens, they can infiltrate and report back."
All three nodded in agreement, and then the contact was severed.
Sitting in his newspaper office, Guilliman rubbed his temples, took a sip of coffee to perk himself up, and continued writing his articles for the newspaper.
Now that Xinghantang has raised its banner and publicly revealed its identity and stance, the Daily Evening Announcement can no longer be called by its original name. It has been officially renamed "Xinghan Daily" and will be published in Chinese.
In addition, the content needs to be adjusted. Besides news announcements, there should also be editorials, battle reports from the front lines, and policy pronouncements.
He finished writing the last word of his report on the conquest of Sacramento and was about to lie down on the sofa for half an hour to rest before getting up to work again when he heard the voice of a chemical engineer named Kodak in his mind.
"Guilliman, are you asleep?"
"I was just about to lie down and rest, is something wrong?"
Kodak chuckled: "Come over to the chemical plant, I have something big to show you."
Guilliman sighed, picked up the revolver on the table, went downstairs, mounted his horse, spurred it on, and the chestnut horse neighed loudly as it headed straight for the chemical plant.
The two places are not far apart, only a ten-minute ride on horseback.
There is no moon tonight, and it's pitch black outside.
Fortunately, the streetlights along this section of the road have already been installed. Thick wooden poles are arranged along both sides of the road, and the bulbs at the top emit a dim but steady light.
Members of the civil engineering team could be seen digging deep pits along the roadside from time to time. They laid bricks and stones at the bottom of the pits one by one and filled the gaps with mortar.
After nodding and greeting the people who were building the sewer pipes, Guilliman arrived at the chemical plant.
Kodak was already waiting at the door. When Guilliman arrived, he quickly led him into his laboratory.
This laboratory is very different from what it was two or three months ago.
Several new shelves have been added to the wall-mounted rack, filled with glass bottles of all sizes, the transparent bottles containing liquids and powders of various colors.
The most eye-catching thing is the strange device in the very center of the table.
It was a square wooden box with a crank on the side and a round hole on the front through which the lens could be vaguely seen.
A long roll of film was attached to the side of the box, entering from one side and exiting from the other, with densely packed square holes along the edge of the film.
"This?" Guilliman pointed to the wooden box.
Kodak nodded, took three steps in two to the table, and picked up the roll of film.
"Look at this."
The film reel contained a series of photographs arranged in order. Guilliman leaned closer to look and discovered that the photographs depicted a single person, from standing to drawing a gun, and then firing at a target; each pose was slightly different.
"Continuous shooting?"
Guilliman looked up and immediately understood. "I remember you mentioned this to me last time. Have you finished developing your interval training mechanism?"
"Okay, and I've made even more progress these past few days!"
Kodak grinned, gripped the handle of the wooden box, and said, "Put your eye close to that little hole and look."
Guilliman bent down and brought his eyes close to the round hole.
A leather visor pressed against his eye sockets, blocking out the surrounding light. His vision was initially filled with darkness, then he saw a still frame of an image.
Kodak slowly turned the crank.
Inside the circular hole, the series of still photographs slowly began to move, flashing by one after another. Then the speed increased, faster and faster. Suddenly, the jerking disappeared, and the photographs seemed to come alive.
The person inside pulled out a revolver and fired repeatedly, shattering the cans in front of him. The movements were fluid and coordinated, as if someone were actually shooting at him.
Guilliman looked up abruptly, a rare look of surprise on his face.
"It moved."
"Yes, it moved!"
Kodak smiled broadly, "I couldn't believe it at first either."
Although each frame on the gelatin roll is still, if it is passed continuously and quickly in front of the lens, our eyes will connect these still images and perceive them as a continuous motion.
Guilliman immediately realized the use of this thing.
It can be used to film everyday life, war, and also to film plays in theaters and stories told in storytelling, recording images and showing them to more people.
"My lord, are you asleep?"
Zeng Tai listened to Guilliman's words in a daze, and his mind instantly cleared up.
"Holy crap, you guys actually released a movie?"
Are these suicide squad members really that proactive? Film reel technology has only been developed for two or three months, and it's already evolved into making movies.
Kodak solemnly stated, "My lord, the process of shooting this image did not use electricity. The shutter was mechanical, the crank was manual, and even the lighting was natural light."
"But if you say it's a movie, then it's a movie."
Zeng Tai asked, "How long does it take to make a movie these days?"
Kodak said, "When it comes to filming, due to the limitations of film length and equipment, we can only film for ten seconds at a time at present, and it can only be displayed through this wooden box, which is only for one person to watch."
Zeng Tai replied without hesitation, "I'll allocate $10,000 to you initially to continue the upgrades and iterations. I only have one request."
"First, the subsequent cameras need to be able to capture the sound. Not only should the video be moving, but the sound should also be recorded synchronously so that it matches the video perfectly when played back."
"Secondly, the colors must be in full color. Not black and white, not colorized manually in post-production, but in color from the start."
These are clearly two separate requests —
Kodak blinked, pondered for a moment, and said, "My lord, I cannot fulfill these requirements by myself."
Sound and color involve electrical, acoustic, optical, and chemical engineering fields, spanning several disciplines. I need the help of the communications, electrical, and physics teams.
"No problem, I'll summon a few for you right now."
With a thought, Zeng Tai summoned three skilled assassins to Kodak's office.
"Keep up the good work! Whether I can watch the movies I remember depends on you guys."
Under the same night sky, across the vast lands of California, the news was spreading in various ways.
News of the Xinghan Church's capture of major California cities reached every town, mining camp, and ranch through propaganda by fleeing white people.
But different people reacted very differently when they heard the news.
In a small town at the northern tip of Napa Valley, the tavern was bustling with activity when the news arrived.
A dozen or so white farmers and ranchers sat around the bar, drinking locally made wine and chatting about this year's grape harvest.
The door was pushed open, and a young man, covered in sweat, rushed in, shouting, "Something terrible has happened! San Francisco and San Jose have been occupied by those Qing Chinese!"
The tavern fell silent for a moment.
Then a burst of laughter erupted.
"Tom, have you had too much to drink?"
A middle-aged rancher with a full beard, holding a wine glass, laughed so hard he almost fell over. "Qing Dynasty people? Occupied San Francisco? Are you confusing your dreams with reality?"
"It's true!"
The young man named Tom was so anxious his face turned red. "My cousin escaped from San Jose, he saw it with his own eyes! The Qing army marched into San Jose and seized all the land there!"
The laughter grew even louder.
"Is your cousin overdosing on tincture?" someone laughed, slamming their hand on the table. "Those skinny Qing insects think they can take San Francisco? The Americans in San Francisco could drown them with a single spit!"
"Exactly! Those Qing dynasty old men can't even speak English fluently, all they do is squat in Chinatown washing clothes and running restaurants. You're telling me they conquered San Francisco?"
The tavern erupted in laughter again; no one believed a young man's ramblings.
But not all places are as peaceful as Napa Valley.
In the foothills of the Coast Mountains, in a small town called Sonoma, the atmosphere is completely different.
The sheriff's living room was packed with more than twenty people, all of whom had come from nearby ranches and mines. The room was filled with smoke, and anxiety and fear were written on everyone's face.
"San Francisco is really lost."
An elderly man with gray hair broke the silence, his voice hoarse, "The man I sent to deliver goods to San Francisco turned back halfway. He said the road was full of Qing Dynasty people."
"Sacramento is gone too."
Another rancher chimed in, "My brother's family lives in Sacramento, and I couldn't believe it when they fled to my place yesterday."
"What do we do now? Gather the people and fight the Qing people?"
The old man glanced at the person who said this and sneered, "Fight? With what? The garrison here is only a platoon. Even if we recruit militia, we can only manage to put together a company at most."
"To capture San Francisco, the Qing Dynasty sent at least several thousand men. How could they possibly win?"
Someone said, "Why don't we run away? Cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains, go to Utah, go to the East. It's better than waiting to die here."
"run?"
The old man gave a wry smile. "It's hundreds of miles from here to the Sierra Nevada. Along the way, there are Qing Dynasty people, Native Americans, bandits, and deserts. How far can you run with your family?"
Silence fell over the living room again.
Just then, the door was pushed open.
A tall, broad-shouldered man walked in.
He was in his early forties, with a thick beard that covered half his face, but couldn't hide his sharp blue eyes. He wore a faded military jacket, a Colt revolver at his waist, and his boots were covered in mud.
"Mr. Hooker!"
Everyone stood up abruptly, as if they had seen a savior.
Joseph Hooker, a former U.S. Army colonel who served in the Mexican-American War and received three honorary promotions, bought a farm near Sonoma after his retirement and lived a semi-secluded life.
For this reason, he is also one of the most prestigious people in Sonoma.
Hook walked to the center of the living room and said slowly, "I already know the situation."
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"San Francisco, Sacramento, San Jose, Benicia—all have fallen. The governor and state legislators have all perished. From the coastline to the Central Valley, virtually all major cities are no longer in American hands."
"Mr. Hook, what should we do?"
"Go into the mountains," Hook uttered.
"Go into the mountains?" someone asked, puzzled. "You mean escape into the mountains and hide?"
Hook said in a deep voice, "It's not about dodging, it's about attacking!"
Everyone in the room was stunned.
Hook looked at the people in the room and said slowly, "The Qing people have occupied the city, but they cannot occupy the entire mountain range."
The Sierra Nevada and Coast Ranges are dotted with valleys, passes, dense forests, and caves.
Nine years ago, the Mexicans used the terrain to delay our advance; now, we can use the terrain here to delay them too!
He paused, then encouraged, "How many people are there in Qing China? At most tens of thousands, and they are scattered in various cities."
"And California has 200,000 Americans. If we send a team into the mountains, they'll never have peace."
"Today we'll attack their mines, tomorrow we'll intercept their convoys, and the day after tomorrow we'll burn their warehouses. We can drag this out until they're exhausted, until reinforcements from the east cross the Rocky Mountains and drive them into the sea to feed the fish!"
"And then, we'll be heroes across America!"
The living room remained quiet for a long time.
A young man stood up: "Mr. Hook, I'll do it with you."
Then came the second, the third, and the fourth; more and more people stood up.
Hook nodded and said, "From now on, we are the California Salvation Army."
"I'm going to the military camp tomorrow morning. I know the garrison commander there, and he will hand over command."
"And you split up and go to every town and settlement in the surrounding area to buy weapons and food, and persuade the men there to join us."
"When those Qing insects get here, we'll give them a real surprise!"