When viewed from high up in space, Eastwood was a beautiful planet. Illuminated by sunlight shining through sprinkling space dust, the blue oceans, the large patches of green wildernesses, and the numerous strikingly pale mine craters all radiated with a dim aesthetic splendor. The view looked just like a beautiful painting, only that it had been set aside for many years, covered in the dust of time.
However, for the Eastwood Grand District's many residents and orphans, this was only a planet full of boulders, nothing but boulders. In their once determined but now apathetic eyes, even those patches of green plains were only grass layers that covered up the true wealth and the glorious history of the planet. They had grown accustomed to seeing right through the green grass and looking straight at the mineral veins beneath, something longed for by every Eastwood resident.
According to the federal district zoning, Eastwood was a Level-Two Grand District, with the same prestige as the three dazzling planets in the Capital Star Circle and the Westwood Grand District. However, for many citizens of the Federation, the far-away Eastwood was a forgotten land. Only on rare occasions, such as the 600th anniversary of the Founding of the Federation Government, the name Eastwood might still show up in celebration ceremonies. Most of the time, Eastwood had ceased to exist in the minds of the people who lived in affluent civilizations.
The Eastwood Grand District included only one planet, the Eastwood Planet. It might sound a bit silly, but it signified that Eastwood Grand District's name came from the Eastwood Planet. This lonely planet, which hung along the outermost region of the Triangle Galaxy, once held vital significance for the entire human civilization in the ancient past.
Nevertheless, ever since the various kinds of ores had been completely depleted, the Eastwood Planet gradually turned into a deserted planet. Now it only has boulders, no more ores, just worthless boulders.
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Those with means to escape Eastwood had left a long time ago. They successfully acquired their residence transfer approval through either specialized skill sets, wealth accumulated over the years, or sponsorship from relatives living in the Capital Star Circle or the Westwood Grand District. Boarding the departing flights, which became lesser and lesser frequent due to energy shortage, they abandoned this withering planet, never looking back.
After all, only a trivial percentage of the residents were able to obtain the residence transfer approvals. The partly abandoned planet still had to support the lives of many. In a well-developed civilization, food and shelter were no longer problems people need to have a concern. Residents of Eastwood Planet still lived a peaceful life. The many social infrastructures and welfares stayed their vital roles just as before, and monetary currencies remained in steady circulation. This world still had corporations, airports, food processing factories, Mech maintenance stations, supercomputer networks, and even an armory.
What they could have and what they should have, the Eastwood Grand District had them all. Yet, they failed to conceal that dim feel of lifelessness. Staleness kept seeping out from every street corner, every building, and every face of those who had nothing to do other than holding their coffee cups and planting themselves in front of a television.
The thousands of years of ore production provided continued support to the Federation, like how a large river kept nourishing the lands along the riverbanks. But when the river gradually dried out and eventually turned into a small foul-smelling creek, the support coming back from the Federation was distinctly insufficient – because, for humankind, happiness is more than merely staying alive.
The long history taught the Eastwooders to be hardworking, steadfast, and unyielding. Countless mining accidents throughout the past did not make them cringe a bit. The dull present, however, filled them with sorrow and helplessness. There was no more mine to dig. There was nothing to do. Without even the possibility of a mining accident, a boring life was not the kind of life an Eastwooder would desire.
Hardworking and unyielding Eastwooders earned themselves the nickname "Eastwood Boulders" in the Federation. Today's Eastwooders became boulders even quieter and more indifferent, turning themselves into stone statues in armchairs and couches at home, as though they would never move again.
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