Chapter 8: San Francisco, 1975

Since Evelyn claimed she could build a "Snake" arcade machine and Ethan had received her list of materials, he set out early the next morning. Driving his borrowed Ford F-150 from Uncle Thomas, he crossed the Golden Gate Bridge—a project ordered by the great American Emperor Joshua Norton in 1869, though it wasn't completed until 1937—heading toward San Francisco, the best place to source electronic components.

After exiting Doyle Drive and traveling three miles south along Highway 101, Ethan spotted the familiar tracks embedded in the asphalt. As he accelerated, a cable car crawling up the steep hill finally came into view.

The bright orange vehicle prompted Ethan to honk, and the cable car driver promptly rang his bell in response, a cheerful "ding-ding."

"Good morning!" Ethan shouted through the open window.

"Good morning, sir. Welcome to San Francisco," the driver replied with a smile, waving at him.

Ethan chuckled heartily, waved back, and pressed the gas pedal, speeding away. San Francisco's cable cars were a famed sight, a staple of the city since the 19th century, offering convenience to its citizens.

Though the 1906 earthquake destroyed much of the tracks and the rise of automobiles reduced reliance on cable cars, the city's deep connection to this mode of transport led to the preservation of several routes, with full restoration only completed in the 1980s.

In his previous life, Ethan had only heard of the famous cable cars but never seen them. Now, seeing these vehicles that allowed passengers to hang off the sides like some wild street scene in India, he found it quite amusing.

Satiated with curiosity, Ethan turned his truck and headed for Market Street, one of San Francisco's vital arteries, where stores and offices lined the way. After spotting the number 1355 on a storefront, a large sign greeted him: San Francisco Electronic Supply.

With such a conspicuous name, Ethan entered without hesitation, greeted warmly by a burly young man.

"Hello, sir. Welcome to San Francisco Electronic Supply. How may I assist you?"

"Of course, I'm here to buy some items." Ethan pulled out a list and handed it over.

After noticing that Evelyn's list had a few cheeky additions, Ethan had rewritten a more selective version. As for the items he'd left off? Well, he still intended to buy them—he had Evelyn's original list safely tucked away.

The young man took one glance at Ethan's list, smiled, and said, "Certainly, sir. Please wait while I gather the materials."

His brisk, efficient movements put Ethan in high spirits. As he browsed the compact store, filled with a wide array of electronic components, he couldn't help but feel the air of professionalism, even though he didn't recognize most of the items.

Just as Ethan was beginning to believe his shopping trip would be quick and painless, the young man returned, holding Ethan's list with an apologetic look.

"Sorry, sir, but I have a few questions."

"Go ahead," Ethan replied, snapping out of his reverie.

"If I'm not mistaken, your list includes potassium chlorate and acetone, correct?"

"..."

Ethan was momentarily puzzled but replied, "That should be correct, yes."

"I need a clear answer."

The young man was suddenly very serious.

"Um... if it's written on there, then yes, I suppose."

Ethan's confirmation made the young man tense up, his hand instinctively moving to his waist as he spoke in a stern tone: "Sir, are you aware that potassium chlorate is an extremely hazardous chemical? It's toxic, corrosive, and explosive! Acetone, while just an organic solvent, can be used to make smokeless powder or synthesize methamphetamine."

"So... if you don't provide a satisfactory explanation, I'll have no choice but to call 911."

'What?!'

As the young man eyed Ethan suspiciously, his hand now clearly hovering over his waistband, Ethan's mind flashed to one thought:

"Land of the free... where gunfights happen daily."

To avoid catching a bullet at close range and prematurely ending his promising new life, Ethan quickly said, "Whoa, whoa, calm down! I don't understand what you're implying! I'm only buying these for a circuit board project!"

"Really?" The young man remained cautious. "Then can you tell me the process for making a circuit board?"

'How would I know that?!' Ethan was stumped.

"I do not know!" He replied bluntly. Having lived in America for many years, he understood now was no time for jokes.

"This list was given to me by someone else! I don't even recognize half the materials! If I were really planning to make explosives or drugs, would I drive here alone in broad daylight?"

Ethan waved his right hand toward his truck. "For crying out loud! I'm driving a Ford F-150! The base model costs at least four thousand dollars, and this one's the fully-loaded version, worth six thousand—an entire year's salary for most people! What kind of lunatic buys dangerous chemicals in a truck like that? I might as well hand the cops a trail of breadcrumbs!"

Ethan's outburst seemed to ease the young man's tension. He raised his hands and turned slightly, showing there was no weapon at his waist. Extending his right hand, now filled with apology, he said, "Sorry, brother. Didn't mean to alarm you. Ever since the protests started cropping up, we chemical suppliers have been extra cautious. We don't want any dangerous items falling into the wrong hands."

"After all, while some people might enjoy causing chaos, we'd be the ones in deep trouble. The feds wouldn't let us off the hook, and City Hall would surely find a way to make us pay."

Seeing no gun, Ethan's heart finally settled. He shot the young man a scowl, his eyebrows arching sharply.

Understanding the unspoken accusation, the young man swiftly lifted his shirt again, further proving there was no concealed weapon.

Satisfied, Ethan cursed under his breath, "Damn!" before giving the counter a hard kick with his foot.

His outburst didn't seem to bother the young man, and after a moment, knowing there had been no real harm done, Ethan extended his right hand, shaking firmly.

Breathing heavily, Ethan leaned against a shelf, muttering, "Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Welcome to San Francisco," the young man replied with a shrug. "Your list almost gave me one too!"

"I thought a fanatical zealot from some strange sect had entered the shop!"

Although Ethan had just been startled by the young man, he had to admit, what the guy said was undeniably true.

In this era, San Francisco was indeed a chaotic place.

Ever since America had senselessly intervened in the war in Vietnam, the anti-war sentiment back home had only grown stronger, and San Francisco, the city of freedom, had become the epicenter of these gatherings.

In just the first five years of the 1970s, there had been several protests, each with over a hundred thousand participants. The largest saw a staggering turnout of 150,000 people.

The most absurd part was that after realizing their demands were going unheard, the protests escalated from peaceful marches to acts of civil unrest—blocking traffic, occupying buildings, disrupting communication systems with radio interference. In the end, large-scale conflicts erupted, resembling the chaos on Capitol Hill.

Moreover, since Harvey Milk, the first openly LGBT individual to run for public office and a pioneer in using magic, was also from San Francisco, the city had become a haven for LGBT protests and demonstrations since 1973.

Given this layered turbulence, it was entirely understandable that anyone selling chemicals would be extra cautious. Still...

Even if Ethan understood, that didn't mean he could accept it!

This time, he was lucky—the shopkeeper didn't have a gun.

But next time, if he ran into someone a bit more trigger-happy, wouldn't he end up shot in the back, with his death ruled as suicide?

That thought alone made Ethan seethe with frustration.

Looking at the man who seemed just as shaken as he was, Ethan lashed out with an irritated tone: "With the kind of vigilance you've got, brother, you shouldn't be running a shop—you should join the FBI!"

"I'm sure if the FBI had someone like you, Ted Bundy would've been caught ages ago!"

Ethan's sarcasm drew a sheepish smile from the young man, who shrugged, "Brother, I've only been this nervous lately because of all the media reports about us pulling out of Asia. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have been so cautious. After all, the things you're asking for can all be transported by rail."

The man's explanation only infuriated Ethan further.

"F***********!"

He never imagined that buying chemicals in North America would lead to an encounter with the "iron fist of freedom" from Asia.

What on earth was this?

A scene straight out of a surreal painting, that's what.

"Forget it, forget it. Just get me my stuff."

No longer wanting to argue, Ethan waved it off.

"Of course, sir."

The young man nodded repeatedly and disappeared once more.

After about fifteen minutes, he returned with everything Ethan needed.

To make up for the trouble he caused, he even gave Ethan a discount and helped load the goods into his truck.

Before parting ways, he handed Ethan a business card with an apologetic smile.

"Brother, I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. My nerves have been on edge lately."

"My name's Frank, and here's my card. Next time you need something, just call me. I'll deliver it to you."

A slightly more sincere apology eased Ethan's frustration.

He took the card, forcing a stiff smile in return as a sign of goodwill.

He also tossed Frank his own card.

Then, with a press of the gas pedal, he was off.

No way could he bear another second in this cursed place!

Still fuming, Ethan rushed home, only to realize upon arrival that he hadn't actually bought everything Evelyn had asked for.

This realization made him an easy target for Evelyn, who had been waiting at home for results.

At first, Evelyn was a bit upset.

But after Ethan explained the whole ordeal, she burst into laughter.

"Ethan, they thought you were buying supplies to make explosives? Oh, my God! You look so sweet and harmless! How could they ever imagine something like that?"

Evelyn covered her mouth, her pretty eyes crinkling into crescents as she laughed.

"Well, isn't it your fault?"

Ethan was clearly annoyed, raising his voice, "Evelyn, you should've told me everything beforehand!"

But his attempt to shift the blame only made Evelyn laugh even harder.

"Ethan, do you know what one of my university professors once said? 'Knowledge is neutral, but it's people who turn it into either good or evil.'"

"Do you think that if I had explained all the uses of these chemicals to you, it would've prevented today's misunderstanding?"

"No."

"When others decide to see you as a villain, no amount of explaining can change their minds."

Evelyn's words left Ethan momentarily speechless. Her insightful remark caused his gaze to flicker.

After a brief pause, Ethan, having lived two lifetimes, also began to chuckle.

"Okay, okay. You're right. The materials are innocent; it's the people who are wicked."

"But I'm more curious—why did your professor share something like that with you?"

"Because every invention, every discovery, has two sides."

Evelyn was pleased that her brother understood, and she shrugged with a smile. "Take radium, for example. When Marie Curie discovered it, she sought to use it to cure cancer. But in the end, it was turned into a weapon. Or consider alternating current—Tesla intended to benefit the world, but Edison turned it into the electric chair to discredit him."

"No one can predict whether the next great invention by an engineer will be for good or ill. All we can do is hope the world doesn't judge too harshly."

"Cool," Ethan laughed, fully grasping the point with his 21st-century mindset.

"Alright, I admit it, you all have it tougher than I do."

"Hehehe~"

Evelyn beamed at Ethan's understanding, smiling like a sly fox. "Well, since you didn't get all the stuff, consider yourself indebted to me."

"Now that we have what we need, shall we get started?"

"Okay," Ethan agreed without hesitation.