novelnext Chapter 155 Never Stop
Chapter 155 Never Stop
Chapter 155 Never Stops (Bonus Chapter 1/12 for Monthly Tickets)
Washington, D.C., Democratic Senate Campaign Committee.
Unlike the heavy political atmosphere of Capitol Hill and the White House, the atmosphere inside this building is more like that of an actuarial firm.
Hundreds of data analysts, strategy consultants, and fundraising experts work here day and night, with only one task: calculation.
Calculate the voter turnout for each constituency, the conversion rate for each donation, and the odds of winning for each candidate.
Today, the door to the chairman's office on the top floor was tightly closed.
Chairman Harrison Boyd held a tablet computer with a tweet from Russell Warren displayed on the screen.
The tweet consisted of only one short sentence, accompanied by a photo of a closed Yili factory where workers were sitting on the roadside eating cold sandwiches.
"It seems the Democrats have finally found what they do best: bury Pennsylvania's industry and then tell the workers it's for their own good."
This tweet was retweeted over 50,000 times in just two hours.
The comments section below is filled with the anger of Pennsylvania voters.
"These Washington bureaucrats don't care if we live or die."
"Senator election? Don't even think about taking my vote!"
Boyd put down the tablet.
He turned around and looked at the director of political affairs who was sitting on the sofa.
"Is this what you call a surgical strike?"
Boyd's voice was soft, but it carried an intense, suppressed rage.
"You assured me that with just a little pressure, that Pittsburgh kid would kneel down, Murphy would drop out, and Monroe would secure the nomination."
"And the result?"
Boyd pointed out the window.
"Not only did you fail to get rid of that kid, you turned him into a hero against the system. What's worse, you made the blue-collar class in Pennsylvania feel that the Democratic Party is their enemy."
The director of political affairs wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Chairman, this was an accident. We didn't expect Wallace to be so crazy, to incite a statewide wildcat strike, nor did we expect the middle class to react so strongly to this—"
"I don't want to hear any explanations."
Boyd interrupted him.
"I'm looking at the polls. The latest data shows that if we don't stop the bleeding immediately, our support in Pennsylvania will fall below the warning line. Once we lose Pennsylvania, our Senate majority will be in danger."
"This is the bottom line."
Boyd walked to the desk.
"Call Harrisburg."
"I want to talk to that idiot myself."
Harrisburg, Lieutenant Governor's Office.
Aston Monroe is experiencing the most difficult day of his political career.
The office phone line has been cut because the sheer number of complaint calls overloaded the line.
His social media accounts have disabled comments, as they have been flooded with insults.
Even his most trusted Philadelphia investors subtly expressed this morning their hope that he would handle the current public relations crisis properly and not let negative emotions affect their corporate image.
Monroe sat in his chair, looking at the effective fund freeze order on the table.
Those were his orders, a symbol of his power.
If we withdraw now, it would be tantamount to admitting that we were wrong and that we lost to a Pittsburgh bumpkin.
His pride wouldn't allow him to do that.
-
"Ring ring ring"
The cell phone on the table suddenly rang.
Monroe glanced at the caller ID and his heart skipped a beat.
It's a Washington, D.C. number.
He took a deep breath, composed himself, and answered the phone.
"Mr. Chairman," Monroe tried to make his voice sound calm, "I was just about to report to you—"
"Aston, shut up."
Boyd's voice came through the receiver, cold and direct.
"Listen, I don't care what your reasons are, or how wronged you feel."
"Stop that damn investigation."
"Now! Immediately!"
Monroe was stunned for a moment, then a sense of humiliation welled up inside him.
"But Chairman, you don't understand the situation. That Leo Wallace is building an independent kingdom! He's bypassing the state government to establish his own power structure, and he's using federal money to buy people's hearts! If we back down now, no one will be able to control him later!"
"That's your problem!"
Boyd raised his voice.
"Let's broaden our horizons, Aston. What's the general direction of federal policy right now? It's bringing manufacturing back, securing supply chains, and revitalizing the blue-collar middle class."
"What are Pittsburgh, Erie, Scranton, these Rust Belt cities doing? They're revitalizing their industries; they're restoring productivity through internal circulation."
"From a macro-strategic perspective, this is perfectly in line with the White House's economic narrative. This is what should have been a Democratic achievement, a model we could boast about in the election—look, under Democratic leadership, factories are back in operation."
"And did they break the law?"
Boyd countered with a question.
"Our legal team studied that Intergovernmental Cooperation Act. Leo Wallace exploited a loophole, yes, but he did so within the bounds of the law. He was just doing business. As long as he didn't tear the Pennsylvania flag down from City Hall, he wasn't committing rebellion."
"The so-called independent kingdom is just your fear of losing control, but that's your fear, not the Party's."
"I don't care whether he listens to Harrisburg or not, I only care whether he can bring votes to the Democratic Party."
Boyd picked up the appalling poll report and tapped his fingers heavily on the paper.
"Now, let's talk about the primaries you care about, the midterm elections I care about, and the general election two years from now that will determine the future of this country."
"Aston, you need to understand the current situation."
"Pennsylvania is a swing state, a game-changer. In the last election, we won here very hard, even narrowly."
"If we want to win, we must hold onto every vote in the city and penetrate as much of the wavering blue-collar population as possible."
"We spent two whole years preparing to wrest this senator seat back from Russell Warren. We invested a huge amount of money, built massive data models, and mobilized all the grassroots organizations."
"The Party supports you and puts you in the spotlight because we believe you are reliable, you can unite the majority of people, and you can help us win."
"But what are you doing now?"
Boyd's voice turned sinister.
"You are enraging the entire Rust Belt."
"Look at the news! All the TV stations are showing footage of workers going hungry! All the commentators are saying that the Democratic Party has abandoned the working class! You've pushed those blue-collar workers who might have voted for us into the arms of the Republicans."
"Warren is popping champagne and celebrating! He doesn't even need to spend money to get a ticket, and you're already campaigning for him! You're telling voters across Pennsylvania: the Democrats would rather starve workers than engage in bureaucratic infighting."
"You are ruining the political future of the Democratic Party throughout Pennsylvania."
Monroe, on the other end of the phone, tried to interject: "But Chairman, if we don't suppress them, Murphy will—"
"Murphy?"
Boyd let out a cold laugh.
"This is the last point I want to remind you of."
"Aston, you seem to have forgotten a basic fact."
"John Murphy, he's a Democrat too."
These words instantly extinguished all of Monroe's lingering hope.
"The party supports you because you are the strongest candidate. But what if it turns out you are not, what if it turns out you are a liability that only creates trouble and cannot solve problems?"
"We have alternative plans."
"If Murphy's momentum continues to be strong in the Rust Belt, if he proves he's the one who can win over blue-collar voters, if he demonstrates a stronger ability to win than you."
"Then the Democratic National Committee can certainly adjust its strategy."
"We don't need you."
"We'll switch our support to Murphy. We'll transfer all the funding, resources, and endorsements that were originally given to you to him. We'll package him as a true working-class hero to challenge Warren."
"For the party, as long as the person who ends up sitting in that senator's seat is a Democrat, whether that person is Aston Monroe or John Murphy, there is no real difference."
"We just want to win."
"If you can't do it, then step aside and let someone who can do it take over."
Boyd paused, giving Monroe time to process what he had said.
"Now, think it over yourself."
"Continue your foolish farce until you ruin your reputation and are ruthlessly abandoned by the Party."
"We should cut our losses immediately, unfreeze the funds, get those damn factories back to work, and quell this storm."
"This is your last chance."
"Shut him up."
"Let those workers go home."
"Don't force me to personally replace them."
"Beep—"
The phone hangs up.
Harrisburg, Lieutenant Governor's Office.
Aston Monroe held the already hot phone in his hand, his whole body stiff as a plaster statue.
Murphy is also a Democrat.
This simple fact had been intentionally or unintentionally overlooked by Monroe.
He always regarded Murphy as an enemy and an outsider.
But now Boyd reminded him that at the highest level of partisan interests, Murphy was a backup plan, but one that could be made the permanent one at any time.
If Monroe continues to escalate the situation and further provoke the Rust Belt, the party leadership will indeed be replaced.
Monroe slowly put down his phone.
He turned his head and looked at Paul Turner, who was standing to the side, not daring to breathe.
"Boss—" Turner called out cautiously.
Monroe closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled heavily.
"Notify the National Audit Office."
"Make them withdraw."
"Issue an announcement saying that the misunderstanding has been cleared up."
The next morning.
A brief announcement was quietly posted on the official website of the Pennsylvania State Auditor General.
"Given that the City of Pittsburgh and relevant partner cities have submitted supplementary supporting materials as required, and after review by the headquarters, the fund usage process for the relevant cross-regional procurement projects complies with the Intergovernmental Cooperation Act and state financial management regulations."
"Effective immediately, the preventative freezing measures on the relevant accounts will be lifted."
"The relevant investigation procedures have been terminated."
The floodgates of funds reopened, and the bank's transfer system began to spin wildly.
United Steel Plant, Erie.
After a week of silence, the sound of the steam whistle rang out again.
Factory manager Jim Bell stood at the workshop entrance, looking at the restarted machines and the workers returning to their posts, his expression filled with excitement.
The accountants in the finance department are frantically printing payroll slips.
The owed weekly wages, along with an additional "return-to-work subsidy," were deposited directly into the workers' accounts.
At the cement plant in Scranton, trucks lined up in long queues.
The drivers started their engines, and black smoke billowed out.
They honked their horns, celebrating this hard-won victory.
Pittsburgh, South Site construction site.
The bulldozers roared back to life, and the cranes spun again.
The entire rust belt came back to life because of this thawing order.
Pittsburgh City Hall, Mayor's Office.
Leo Wallace sat behind his desk, looking at his computer screen.
The crisis is over.
Ethan stood to the side and let out a long sigh of relief.
"God help me." Ethan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "I thought we were really doomed this time, but I didn't expect Washington to react so quickly. It seems they're still scared."
"Afraid?"
Leo shook his head.
There was no sign of jubilation on his face, not even a hint of a smile.
"They're not afraid, Ethan."
Leo pointed to the numbers on the screen.
"They're just doing the math."
"When Monroe's behavior begins to threaten their votes, laws, rules, and auditing procedures—all of these things can give way."
"This is the bottom line for these people."
Leo waved to Ethan.
Ethan wisely turned and left, leaving Leo alone in the room.
The tension in his mind eased.
"Actually, it's good that the lockdown is lifted."
Leo stood up and walked to the window.
"Mr. President."
Leo suddenly said something to Roosevelt that he would never have said before.
"In this closed political system, the total amount of power is constant."
"If someone wants to go up, someone else has to come down. If someone wants to take more meat, they have to snatch it from someone else's plate."
"Murphy wants to climb the ladder; he wants a senator's seat, but there's only one of those seats."
"Monroe wanted to climb up, and he was eyeing that position too."
"I'm fighting too. I'm fighting for dominance in this city, for a voice in Pennsylvania."
"We are all vying for those limited resources and space."
Leo's fingers tapped lightly on the windowsill.
"As long as we are in this game, the struggle will never stop."
"Even if Murphy becomes a senator one day, he will still fight for the chairmanship of the committee."
"Even if one day I climb to a higher position, or even sit in the Oval Office of the White House, I will still have to fight with Congress, fight with the courts, and fight with those unseen interest groups."
A deep sense of exhaustion suddenly washed over me, a feeling more intense than any previous crisis.
This is a fear of the future.
It's not the fear of failure that's the fear, but the fear of this endless drain.
"Mr. President," Leo's voice was low, "I am full of fighting spirit now, because I am still at the foot of the mountain, and I still have anger."
"But I fear that day will come."
"Maybe in five years, maybe in ten years."
"I'll get tired of all this."
"Looking at these endless documents, looking at that insatiable greed, I suddenly felt that all of this was meaningless."
"I would want to play basketball, sunbathe at the beach, and find a comfortable position to lie down in this damn meat grinder."
"I will become the kind of person I used to hate the most, a bureaucrat who only wants to keep his position and is indifferent to everything else."
"Who will fight for these people then?"
"That's normal, Leo."
Roosevelt said.
"This is also part of human nature; everyone craves comfort and wants to stop running."
"But I'm telling you, you won't stop."
"Why?" Leo asked back.
"Because it's both a curse and a talent."
Roosevelt's voice became more impassioned.
"The vast majority of people in this world are weak. They are bent over by life, bound by bills, and choked by fear. They can only drift along and pray for the mercy of fate."
"But a very small number of people are born with a certain power."
"You have the insight to see through the situation, the eloquence to stir people's hearts, the wisdom to find a way out in desperate situations, and the ruthlessness to put your soul on the scales to be weighed."
"That's your ability."
"Those who possess this ability are destined to never live a life of ease."
"That's why I chose you."
"When you see injustice, your instinct will drive you to draw your sword; when you see obstacles, your wisdom will compel you to break through them."
"You can't stand lying there like a piece of trash, watching people who are not as good as you perform poorly on stage, watching the benefits that should belong to the public be divided up by greedy fools."
"That kind of pain is more unbearable than exhaustion."
Roosevelt paused.
"Moreover, it's a responsibility."
"The responsibility of the strong."
"Since fate has given you this sword, you must wield it."
"For yourself, to satisfy your inexhaustible ambition, to stand at the pinnacle of power and look down upon all living beings."
"And for those who have no sword."
"They need a champion, they need a villain, they need someone who can fight the devil and win back the bread for them."
"You are that person."
"As long as you have a breath left, as long as your mind can still function, this fighting instinct will push you forward until you fall on the road to victory."
"This is our destiny, Leo."
"Fighting is not about winning; fighting itself is proof of our existence."
Leo listened to these words.
That deep-seated fatigue seemed to have dissipated somewhat.
Yes.
He can't stop.
From the moment Roosevelt entered his mind, he was destined to spend his life in the storm.
In that case, let the storm rage on.