As soon as he got close to it, Klein saw a long queue coming over. It was like the people in the big foodie country on earth queuing at an internet celebrity store. People were crowded next to each other.
“There are more than a hundred, no, close to two hundred people.” He whispered in surprise. He saw that all the people in line had shabby clothes and numb expressions. They only occasionally looked anxiously at the entrance of the workhouse.
Frye slowed down and said with a cold and gloomy temperament:
“Each workhouse can accept a limited number of homeless poor people every day, and they can only be selected according to the order of queue. Of course, the workhouse will identify and prevent those who do not meet the conditions from entering.”
“This also has factors of recession in recent months,” Leonard lamented.
“Those who didn’t get the quota can only think of their own solutions.” Klein asked subconsciously.
“They can also try their luck at other workhouses. Different workhouses open at different times, but there will always be the same long queue. Some people have been waiting since two o’clock in the afternoon.” Fry paused and said, “Most of the remaining people will be hungry for a day, so they will lose the ability to find work and fall into a vicious cycle of death. Those who cannot bear it will give up their persistence in kindness.”
Klein was silent for a few seconds, then breathed out and said:
“The papers never print these things Mr. Fry. I rarely hear you say so much.”
“I once served as a priest in the goddess’s almshouse.” Frye was still in that cold state.
The three well-dressed people successfully arrived at the entrance of the West District Workhouse, showed their IDs to the gatekeeper who arrogantly looked at the people in line, and were ushered into the workhouse.
This almshouse was renovated from an old church. The mass hall was covered with mats and hammocks were hung. The strong smell of sweat mixed with foot odor filled every corner.
There were many homeless people inside and outside the hall. Some were wielding hammers and breaking stones, while others were picking up thin wadding from old ropes. No one was free.
“In order to prevent the poor from relying on relief and becoming scoundrels, the Poor Law of 1336 stipulated that each poor person could only stay in the workhouse for a maximum of five days, and would be kicked out if they exceeded it. During these five days, they also had to work , knocking rocks or picking up ropes, these are also inevitable tasks for the criminals in the prison.” Frye introduced a few words to Klein and Leonard without any emotion.
Leonard opened his mouth, and finally said whether it was sarcasm or statement: “After leaving this almshouse, you can go to another one. Of course, you may not be able to live in it again. Maybe in the eyes of some people, poor people are Equal to a crimi