Elliot tilted his head and looked at his notebook, put it into the lining pocket of his clothes, and then carefully checked his clothes.

Make the most serious preparation to face things, so that it will be easier to feel relaxed and positive emotions.

Someone else had told him this, but he had forgotten who it was. Maybe it was Percy Shelley? But that shouldn't matter.

Elliot went downstairs, in a good mood - he should be in a good mood, holding the stairs and walking downstairs, watching the lights that lit up with each step as he took each step down, and the bustle downstairs that was getting closer and closer.

There was a sound, and a smile suddenly appeared.

"It's rare to see you so happy."

The smooth silver walls of the clock tower showed fluctuations like rainbow water waves, and the sound-producing device hidden inside made a steady sound, which seemed to have a sense of relief.

The walls of the bell tower have been modified with special materials and structures. Not only do they have strong sound insulation functions, but there are also a large number of sound-producing devices hidden inside. There are also a large number of surveillance cameras in every corner. When necessary, the walls

Can also be used as a projection screen.

"Mr. Orwell."

Elliot's footsteps did not pause, but he nodded slightly, then tilted his head, and asked curiously: "Am I rarely so happy?"

His posture can be called docile and well-behaved, but his eyes, which do not have much emotional fluctuations, reveal that the reason why he assumes this posture is closer to an imitation of human behavior.

"It wasn't that bad before, but your mood swings have gradually become sluggish and dull from a year or two ago. Is it because you are used to the clock tower attendant?"

There was a rare concern in Orwell's tone. After all, Elliot's powers were still very useful, and it took a lot of effort to lure him to the bell tower.

"...Maybe? I feel like I have become accustomed to things that can cause mood swings in the past."

Elliot blinked and seemed to recall something, and said calmly: "Even if you tell me now that Mr. Dickens will dress up as Santa Claus for Christmas, I won't be shocked."

After all, this is the Clock Tower Attendant. What can’t the Clock Tower Attendant do?

George Orwell was silent for a while, probably because he couldn't imagine Dickens dressing up as Santa Claus, and finally seemed to sigh: "The bellboy has a new guest today. You can spend a while with him, but don't go too far.

Too close. He has very good relations with other countries."

Elliot nodded slightly and continued downstairs, never hearing any sound again.

George Orwell left, and he left a little earlier than usual.

Maybe the artificial intelligence has messed up the order of all the files in the leader's computer? The leader is always worried about others touching his files, so he has to rearrange them manually... As expected, being a leader is also very difficult.

With this thought in mind, Elliot walked down the stairs calmly, looked around while listening to the noisy people in the hall, and felt a little regretful when he found that the person he was waiting for was not here.

Regret is an empty feeling, like missing the moon, and it is also the emotion Eliot is most familiar with.

But it was still very lively down there, especially at this time, everyone had already finished breakfast, so everyone started chattering.

Dickens delivered his after-dinner speech as before. This was also one of his most dignified moments in the bell tower. Most people were listening attentively, and from time to time he fell over the people beside him with laughter.

Maugham was recording something slowly and leisurely, looking up at his colleagues from time to time.

Elliot looked at him a few more times and felt that the other party might have gotten inspiration from Romain Rolland, who was in the Paris Commune next door, and was planning to record the dark history of the bell tower attendant and publish it to make money.

But Mr. Orwell probably would not allow this kind of leakage of privacy and internal secrets, unless Mr. Maugham plans to live to the age of killing his boss before publishing...

Eliot thought this, floating to the edge of the table like a silent ghost, and surrounding him while he was happily discussing.

The three Brontë sisters were shocked as they were discussing something.

"Well, Mr. Elliot, could you smile a little--I mean smile a little? The way you look makes me think I'm sitting in a wax museum."

The three sisters' personalities were a bit restrained in the presence of people they didn't know very well. For a while, no one spoke. In the end, Charlotte took on the responsibility of the eldest sister and had no choice but to speak.

In fact, what she said was right.

Eliot has black hair and black eyes that are rare among foreigners, and his eyebrows are as delicate as a carefully carved doll. When he is not smiling, his eyes are always so calm that it makes people feel inhuman for no reason.

.

They are very beautiful, but those eyes are like the black eyeballs inlaid on a doll or wax figure, there is only a void that cannot find the focus and the inorganic coldness of gems.

"Feel sorry?"

Elliot blinked, a little confused as to why the other party would comment on him like this, but he still smiled, just because the smile was so standard that Anne Bronte calmly shrank into the arms of her sisters.

.

"..."

The three sisters were tired and silent for a while. They were a little unsure whether Eliot did it on purpose, but they still did not continue to make suggestions and continued to listen to Dickens's speech.

"This is the content of my speech. Of course, at the end of the speech I will also ask as usual: Agatha, what happened to the project we decided on last time?"

Dickens coughed, and then turned his attention to Agatha Christie, who was trying to make scones with black tea. Her eyes looked bright, which made Agatha, who was fishing, cough with her eyes wandering.

"Relevant regulations have been prepared to further popularize and make basic education compulsory. However, considering that this part is mainly aimed at the East End of London, it cannot be carried out according to routine, and some adjustments must be made."

Having said this, Agatha showed a bit of a headache: Most of the buildings in the East End of London are very densely distributed, and most of them are old and unsafe buildings from the 19th century.

history……

If she hadn't considered that the outflow of residents from London's East End would cause large-scale chaos in social order after they ran out of places to live, she would have just used bombers to blow up the East End and then rebuild it. At least this would be cleaner and faster than transforming London's East End.

"First, we should rationally build a few dangerous buildings that are already about to collapse, and then send people to build schools. It is best to teach them some practical knowledge that allows them to work and earn money."

Dickens answered quite quickly, with a very skillful tone: "You can catch the students directly on the road in the East District, where there are many children stealing. The teaching must also be equipped with some security personnel, and it is best to implement militarized management.

They quickly change their habits."

"What if the local gangs choose to intervene because we are robbing people... Oh, if they are caught, it will be considered a reward, right? I understand."

Maugham, who was watching the excitement with his pen hanging by the side, asked, but before he could answer, he laughed and shook his head:

"Replacing violence with violence is indeed very effective. A violent order that can bring prosperity and hope is better than the current chaos of poverty in the East End."

"Will the leader agree?"

William Golding, who was reading a book, asked curiously, and heard a laugh from Conan Doyle next to him.

"Of course it will. After all, order brings more effective monitoring. At least you don't have to worry about the monitoring equipment being destroyed."

The detective drank black tea leisurely, then turned to look at Mary Shelley who was eating a small cake.

"Allocate some of the dead people to me for research. I've been a little curious about human anatomy recently."

Dr. Wollstonecraft, who looked small, chewed the small cake on his plate, muttered, and then added unconvincingly: "Make surveillance on me that cannot be destroyed by routine."

It’s not difficult for this genius, it’s just that I want to challenge some more complex areas.”

"Then it's settled, the first step of the London East End transformation plan has officially begun! Next, there will be optimization of the industrial structure, relocation of factories and reconstruction of buildings, mobilizing the subjective enthusiasm of the people in the East End, etc..."

After Dickens finished speaking happily, he saw the cold and resentful eyes of his colleagues who were thinking about fishing every day, so he coughed without embarrassment and showed a bright smile: "Then we'll see you in a few days.

speak."

Now satisfied, everyone returned to their leisurely and lazy self, and began to discuss how to extract money from Dickens, the main contributor to the project's funding.

As we all know, although Charles Dickens was a necrophiliac and often made women want to beat him up, he was also a philanthropist: he topped the British charity list every year.

Moreover, he is completely voluntary and sincere, just like he always puts forward various suggestions on people's livelihood in the clock tower attendants, and seems to have a natural compassion and concern for human nature.

It is this kind of nice personality that makes other disdainful people among the clock tower attendants want to catch this person, knead or tease him - after all, it is extremely rare to have such a person in the nobility.

Moreover, the way Dickens bounces around energetically every day is really cute, so cute that you can’t help but want to tease him and see the other person’s eyes widen and his hair grow wild.

Who wouldn't like this kind of brown-headed crow that only pecks you when it's angry and always flies around with a strong sense of presence?

——At least the cats and cats in the bell tower who like to catch birds like it too much, except of course Eliot who is used to Dickens's frivolous character.

So no matter what kind of event it is, it makes sense that it will always turn into a scene of gang bullying and Dickens’ victimization, right?

"I knew..."

After Austin used his card to open the internal electronic door of the Bell Tower Attendant, he looked at the scene inside and sighed helplessly.

At this time, the hall inside has turned into a standard British stew. The sound of chickens and dogs jumping is endless, and there are also mixed "Why are you chasing me!" "Why are you running!" "You are chasing me!"

What are I going to do if I don't run?" "Why would I think of chasing you if you don't run?" and other confusing conversations.

Only Conan Doyle and another black-haired man whom Austin introduced to him from afar on the Thames did not participate in this "war". They just drank black tea quietly, looking like "silly roe deers".

The indifference of looking to the left without blinking an eye.

In the center of the entire battlefield was Zi Mao, who was holding a box to cover his face, standing on a tall cabinet and shouting "Don't come over here" in horror.

Wait, Purple Hair?

Beihara and Feng were silent for a few seconds. First they glanced at this very non-mainstream hair color with some confusion, and then at the other person's orange eyes and purple pupils: "..."

You British people really have a variety of colors - no, to be precise, including Ireland, the colors of your British Isles are quite colorful.

"Kitahara and Kaede."

While the traveler was seriously thinking about how many non-mainstream people he had met on the British Isles, a clear but emotionless voice interrupted his thoughts.

He raised his head and saw that the young man with black hair and black eyes had stood up and walked in front of him. He was looking at him seriously with those pure black eyes.

Elliot tilted his head and stared at this person who Conan Doyle said was very interesting. He looked at him very seriously - this was the first time he had been so close to this person instead of observing through a surveillance camera.

Soft...and very shiny, like Dickens.

The Transcendent who served in the bell tower thought so, but denied this view in the next second.
To be continued...