Chapter 720: The Ninth District Broadcasts — The Pinnacle of Irony

Night fell, and outside the Grand Theatre, the red carpet lay deserted.

Only a few scattered passersby, patrolling security personnel, and a couple of sanitation workers sweeping the streets remained.

Occasionally, a car would drive by, its wake kicking up leaflets into the air—slogans printed boldly across them:

"We want equality!"

"The world belongs to everyone—you, us, all of us~!"

The flyers fluttered upward, then slowly drifted back to the ground, heightening the bleak emptiness of the scene.

It felt as if the bustling spectacle from just moments ago had all been a dream—an illusion.

A few die-hard equality protesters remained—Black, white, and mixed-race faces among them. At this point in history, Asians had yet to take to the streets to demand their rights, still clinging to the hope that others would recognize their plight and lend a helping hand.

A young Black man let the flyer slip from his hand. He tugged the hood of his T-shirt over his head against the chill of the night breeze, then turned to the white boy beside him and asked, "Bro, you think this film's gonna be any good?"

"How would I know? I haven't seen it," the young white guy snapped, throwing him a glare, irritation bubbling under the surface.

Of course, his frustration wasn't really directed at his friend, but rather at those others who had come with them to the protest—only to bail and rush off to see the movie.

"Motherfucker," he muttered. "If every damn protest ends up like this, what's even the point?"

Then he heard the Black kid say, "Hey, I heard there's a midnight showing. Wanna grab a ticket and see what the fuss is about? I've always been curious about Martin's films."

The white boy kicked the flyer off the pavement and growled, "Fine. Let's go. Buy the damn ticket."

…

Inside the theater.

The previews and trailers came to a halt. The screen dimmed to black.

The massive hall fell silent. The sound of people munching snacks, sipping drinks, and murmuring quietly faded in an instant.

Next to Martin, Alexandra Daddario sat up straight, completely focused.

Even Leonardo stopped grumbling to Robert about his troublesome girlfriend.

Robert finally exhaled in relief, cursing silently: No wonder Martin insisted on switching seats with me.

Inside the theater, fans and film buffs alike straightened up, senses sharpening.

In the darkened grand hall of the Grand Theatre, journalists, critics, VIP guests, and movie fanatics—all eyes locked onto the massive screen.

"District 9" was about to begin!

The screen remained dark, and then—Kung Fu Panda appeared, performing a set of graceful tai chi moves. The contrast between his adorable, clumsy appearance and the fluid precision of his form was comical.

As the panda finished his routine, bold white letters appeared across the screen with a series of rhythmic thuds:

Produced by Meyers Studios.

Then, in even larger text:

A Martin Meyers Film.

The names of producers, lead actors, and core crew members followed.

Robert perked up instantly, nudging Leonardo and whispering, "You better pay attention. This movie will blow your mind!"

Leonardo raised an eyebrow skeptically but said nothing, focusing on the screen.

The first image appeared: a massive metallic spaceship with a punk-industrial vibe loomed into view.

The audience gasped, a wave of awe rippling through the crowd. Was this the start of some epic alien invasion?

Then, the camera zoomed out, shrinking the alien ship in the frame.

Suddenly, a sharply dressed news anchor appeared next to the footage of the ship—framed within a television broadcast.

It wasn't a movie scene—it was a news report.

"We're seeing live footage from Johannesburg, South Africa," the anchor reported. "A massive alien spacecraft has been hovering over the city for fifteen hours. There's been no activity—no weapons fired, no emissaries sent, no communication at all... The ship hasn't moved, and we still have no idea what it wants."

The camera cut to another close-up of the enormous spacecraft.

With a generous production budget, the CGI quality far surpassed the original timeline—the ship looked stunningly real, textured and tangible, not like a clumsy sticker photoshopped into the sky.

Panic spread quickly.

Civilians fled in droves.

Months passed in the blink of an eye.

Unable to wait any longer, world leaders held emergency meetings. Humanity deployed elite task forces to surround the ship, even cutting open an entry point to venture inside.

And what they found shocked both the characters onscreen and the real audience in the theater.

The spacecraft was packed with aliens—creatures that looked like crossbreeds of lobsters and insects. Refugees.

They didn't fight back. Instead, they scrambled in fear, chaos breaking out among their own ranks.

The humans discovered that these aliens were starving, malnourished, and desperate. Despite humanity's fear of them, the aliens seemed even more terrified of human.

In the pitch-black auditorium, renowned film critic Kevin Thomas was transfixed. His mind immediately conjured the image of slave ships from centuries ago—filthy, overcrowded, full of half-dead captives suffering from hunger, disease, and neglect.

Once the world learned the truth about the aliens, the human instinct for compassion surged. A wave of humanitarian fervor swept in. Activists demanded that governments provide aid, while volunteers brought food, water, clothing, and essentials to the ship's perimeter.

The first wave of aliens to step foot on Earth was met with cheers and excitement. Volunteers rushed in, eager to help.

Initially, the aliens were housed on the outskirts of cities. There was no quarantine.

But over time, public perception shifted. The once-pitiful aliens gradually came to be seen as pests—cockroaches, vermin. Disgust replaced sympathy.

Eventually, governments cordoned them off from human neighborhoods and dubbed the area District 1.

Over the next two decades, as cities expanded and the alien population boomed, new districts were created—District 2, District 3… until eventually, District 9.

But as human cities continued to sprawl and the aliens reproduced rapidly, conflicts broke out.

Then came the discovery: the aliens' ship held advanced weaponry. And just like that, interest groups took over. Greed poisoned public discourse. Slander and fearmongering exploded.

First, the aliens were nicknamed "Prawns," likening them to bottom-feeding scavengers who lived off trash and rot.

Then, isolated incidents of alien theft were exaggerated until the entire species was branded as criminals and thugs.

The bitterest irony came when a woman appeared on camera and declared:

"If you ever see one of those aliens, you better run. They'll rob you of everything—your wallet, your clothes, your shoes, your phone... They'll even take your life."

But even as she spoke, an alien behind her was digging through a trash bin—completely ignoring her bag, her clothes, her shoes, and her life.