Bella was overwhelmed by the countless examples of students with exceptionally high SAT scores who were rejected by prestigious universities due to a lack of practical experience.
She wasn't a newbie who hadn't experienced life, so she had some idea of Victoria Hand's intentions when she invited her for coffee. She said she chose Stanford because she graduated from there.
Without research, she couldn't speak for herself, but she felt that the alumni network in both the East and the West was similar; fellow alumni sometimes formed a natural circle.
Victoria Hand, acting as if she hadn't heard Stanford, asked, "Wouldn't Harvard's history department be better?"
Bella laughed. "I don't want to stray too far from home. My mother and her husband are planning to move to California someday, and although my father lives in Washington State, it's not far from California, so...
"Victoria Hand saw through her thoughts: "Regional discrimination!"
Bella put on a nonchalant expression, highlighting her unwavering Western roots.
"I know a twenty-something girl in Forks who goes to school in Philadelphia. She says people in Washington State are very simple and friendly, while people in Philadelphia are incredibly cold and mean!"
Bella used the word "mean" for "mean," which was already a serious statement.
Victoria Hand would go out of her way to correct her on issues concerning Native Americans and pioneers, but when she bluntly expressed her dissatisfaction with Easterners, she casually sipped her coffee.
"Those East Coasters only care about their Ivy League schools. They think New York is the center of the world. But the reality? They can't compare to the West Coast in high technology and the entertainment industry. They're just a bunch of nerds, a bunch of penny-pinchers who only care about their pension returns!" Bella flinched and sneered.
America is amazing. Discrimination and prejudice are taboos, absolutely unacceptable, but regional discrimination and prejudice are fine. Those talk show hosts are always raving about people from Georgia and Texas, and they can make all sorts of jokes.
There were deep divisions between states, not to mention the conflict between Easterners and Westerners. The mutual disdain was so deep that anyone could say a few words without anyone noticing anything was wrong.
Victoria Hand smiled, pleased with Bella's statement. She herself had been ostracized by the New York crowd. What was Coulson capable of? Wasn't it just because he was from New York?
She said, seemingly fair, "The Ivy League has a strong academic atmosphere. You must have been misled by the media's false reports."
Bella waved her hands. "I'm afraid they'll discriminate against me. It's too difficult for someone like me to survive in an Eastern city."
Victoria Hand had already read Bella's file several times and knew she was telling the truth.
It was not uncommon for girls whose personalities didn't conform to mainstream values to be shunned by their surroundings. Suicide was commonplace.
This country seemed to promote heroes, but in reality, it was anti-heroic. It didn't want any one individual to stand out. The exceptionally beautiful and the exceptionally brave receive strange treatment here; the state desires mediocrity, allowing the upper class to effectively manage society using its abundant resources.
Victoria Hand made no promises, and Bella seemed to understand nothing. The two chatted casually for a few moments, wished each other well, and departed.
That evening, Bella flew back to Phoenix, Arizona.
She found her pickup truck at the gym and, after circling the city twice, finally found her home with some difficulty.
Technically, this was Bella's mother's house. She was currently in California with her boyfriend, making a doll and had no plans to return anytime soon, so it wouldn't be a problem for her to stay for a few days.
Bella called her mother to let her know she'd be staying for a few days, and then called Charlie to let him know she was safe.
Only then did she finally relax.
She'd spend the next few days in Phoenix, participating in a "social practice" initiative led by the survivors' association, which was suing TWA for exorbitant compensation.
According to the 1999 Montreal Convention, airlines and their insurance companies were required to pay exorbitant compensation to victims and survivors.
This again involved the United States's maneuvering, having steered nations around the world into signing a tangled web of conventions. After other nations implemented them, the United States itself was slow to implement them.
While a member of many conventions, the United States wasn't a signatory, arguing that even government-signed conventions still needed ratification by its own legislature.
As long as the legislature delays ratification, those numerous conventions will be valid for others but not for themselves. Whether the compensation scheme outlined in the conventions applies to the Flight 180 accident remains a question mark.
Compensation is undeniable, but the exact amount remains controversial. The airline and insurance company are unwilling to pay more, while the victims and survivors hope to strike it rich overnight. The conflict is irreconcilable.
Bella played along twice, but she found herself completely unable to participate.
Watching a group of elderly people shouting in front of the media about their and their families' fear and helplessness, and the enormity of the airline's crimes, she felt incredibly shameless.
She knew full well that the airline was also a victim in this incident, and she couldn't in good conscience assert the enormity of its crimes.
Faced with the exorbitant compensation, many airline employees were laid off, losing their income and facing a difficult life.
Bella withdrew from the leading group in the claims process, and the elderly people took over.
The survivors killed by the Grim Reaper in the past few days were also blamed on the airline. After all, capitalists are all evil! It must be the shareholders of the airline who hired the killer, so sue them to death!
When sorting out the death list, Bella made a discovery that was neither big nor small. The pretentious black coroner was also dead. Judging from the time of death, he must have died in the second half of the battle between the Grim Reaper and the Indian curse. He died of nothing, died in his sleep.
As for this "social practice" activity, Bella no longer cared about the process, but only the result. She urgently needed the capitalists' evil money to replenish her meager wallet. She was so poor that she had no interest in going shopping even when Natasha took her out.
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(End of this chapter)