People always have different thoughts and desires at different tis, but there is one thing that remains the sa.
And that is the reflection on the past and the outlook on the future.
What will the future be like?
Mr. Truman stared into Lynch’s eyes and saw the montary loss of focus in Lynch’s gaze as he was contemplating.
Yet it seed as if... his gaze penetrated his own body and looked towards a certain place "ahead", a feeling both chilling and slightly exciting, with a hint of anticipation.
Can he really see what the future will be like?
Mr. Truman thought to himself.
After a mont, Lynch smiled and shook his head, "A very profound question, no one can answer you."
Mr. Truman looked at him with a half-smile, "I feel like you’ve just seen sothing, don’t you want to share it with ?"
"Wealth!"
Lynch did not refuse; the first word he uttered was one that incited uncontrollable impulse and desire—wealth.
Followed imdiately by...
"Power, war!"
"You know, so people believe war and capital are thods, ways for politics to extend outward, a way to solve problems with capital or war, but that’s not the case."
"Politics is not as important as one might imagine, Truman, whether in the past, present, or future, politics is toyed with in the palm of capital’s hand."
"You asked what I saw..." he said, as if pondering, or summarizing how to express everything he saw, "I saw unconstrained capital swelling to uncontrollable levels."
"Everyone is controlled by capital; those who are wealthy speak louder, and those who are poor endure all the injustice, just like..."
The smile on his face made Mr. Truman’s scalp tingle slightly, "...just like it is now!"
Just like it is now.
Mr. Truman, upon hearing this, breathed a sigh of relief, and yet wanted to burst out laughing. He thought Lynch was teasing him, but just as he put on an expression of wanting to "laugh out loud," the laughter didn’t co out.
It didn’t escape his throat to match his expression of "This joke is so damn funny," it didn’t. It was gone.
It was as if an invisible hand gripped his throat.
Because he realized, Lynch was right!
The presidential election is controlled by capitalists, while the list of heads of various governnt departnts is controlled by the President.
In a sense, the capitalists can control the lineup of a governnt president’s cabinet, even for two terms—if they perform well.
Was it like this two hundred years ago?
No, it wasn’t like this two hundred years ago; at that ti, the Federation Governnt wasn’t like it is now. Even if politics couldn’t override capital outright, it could at least contend with it.
Politicians were proud of ensuring their independence!
A hundred years ago, it wasn’t like this either. Although capital had already swelled uncontrollably, the Federation Governnt was still doing its utmost to control capital.
They introduced a series of acts, still in operation now, to constrain capital’s expansion and division, hoping to slow down its pace!
But look at now... politicians take pride in being acquainted with capitalists, readily uttering nauseating lines like "Mr. So-and-So supports my idea" to prove their relationship with capitalists.
What will the future be like?
Mr. Truman felt a piercing cold; maybe in a hundred years, politicians will be like workers today, and the Federation Governnt will just be a special "company," with its shareholders being the massive consortiums, the magnates, the big capitalists.
And everyone in this company, every politician, President, Minister, Deputy Minister, or whoever, will just be their workers!
Receiving a salary probably much higher than other jobs, doing work similar to that of factory workers now—accepting exploiting, oppressing, and controlling destinies!
Politics will be drained of every last drop of profit in the hands of capital and then abandoned.
What will happen after they abandon politics?
Perhaps the Federation will split apart, and the capitalists will fight each other for plunder, not justice.
A sadly grim future!
Mr. Truman was frightened by his own imagination of the future, and his expression beca particularly serious—that was definitely not a good future.
"It’s terrible," he replied to Lynch.
Lynch nodded, seeming quite in agreent, "Yes, it’s terrible."
The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long ti. Mr. Truman, once his emotions cald a bit, asked curiously, "You’re a capitalist, too. Why do you have such thoughts? Shouldn’t you hope for such things to happen?"
"I don’t agree with what you said; I never admitted I was a capitalist. Moreover, even if I am, I am a capitalist with a sense of social responsibility and patriotism."
"I’m different from them!"
Lynch’s tone was very stern, as if speaking uprightly at a major international conference before the heads of multiple countries, "I don’t like seeking profits in destruction, that’s what makes different."
"Moreover, in my eyes, profit is not the only thing; I have limits, I have my own moral standards, I don’t want the world to beco like that."
"That’s why I sit here. In so ways, we have the sa demands—we both don’t want capital to get out of control."
Mr. Truman pointed out a flaw in Lynch’s argunt, "It already has gotten out of control!"
"Then let’s bring it back!" Lynch responded rapidly.
Following that, there was another period of silence, Mr. Truman tugged at his tie, which made his neck feel choked, affecting his breathing.
Thinking, contemplating, he found sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold winter.
He leaned forward and looked at Lynch, "You must be crazy; they won’t let us succeed!" he said this seemingly despondently, yet his spirit was very high, as if what he wanted to express was not "won’t succeed" but "we should try."
Lynch did not respond this ti, rely looked at him.
Sohow, Mr. Truman thought about what he had gone through, feeling increasingly that Lynch made a lot of sense.
He refused to bow down, capitalist forces made him kneel nevertheless. Even the President, a relatively mild-mannered person, had no choice but to give him a break.
If he didn’t compromise and bow down, that might be his last mont in the Federation’s political arena.
Until now, he still had to occasionally attend so capitalists’ parties.
At these gatherings, nothing of substance was discussed, just current events followed by eating, drinking, and plenty of rrint.
He knew the purpose of these capitalists was to observe his attitude. He had to show that "we are on the sa side," or else the capitalists would remain wary of him.
Capital has inflated more than ever, even able to override the President’s will to control a high official in the Federation Governnt.
It’s really frightening!
Another seven or eight seconds passed, and Mr. Truman asked, "Can you tell why you think this way? I’m really curious!"
Lynch wasn’t supposed to be on his side, or rather, he wasn’t supposed to be on the side of those aiming to restrict capital’s force. He had no reason to oppose himself.
If Lynch’s answer was less than perfect, a pleasant collaboration between both parties might develop so cracks.
These cracks wouldn’t affect their continued cooperation in the short term, but long-term, it wouldn’t be good news!
Sitting in his chair with legs crossed, Lynch placed his hands on his knees, "The end of madness is destruction. If unchecked, capital will inevitably lead to madness and downfall."
"I’m just saving myself!"
Mr. Truman leaned back, pointed at Lynch, "Good rhetoric, I’ll pretend to believe it."
He truly believed it, it wasn’t just pretending, he simply said as much.
Mr. Truman let out a sigh, laughed a few tis, and wiped the sweat from his face with a Handkerchief, "Talking to you is really not a fun thing, I think if I had a heart condition, it might have flared up a couple of tis already."
Lynch’s reply was still swift, "If that’s the case, what kind of flowers do you like?"
Mr. Truman was puzzled by Lynch’s question, "What does this have to do with what kind of flowers I like?"
"I’ll buy a bouquet when I visit your funeral!"
Mr. Truman pointed and laughed carefreely at Lynch, "Hahaha..."
After quite a bit of laughing, he took a deep breath and said viciously, "I won’t die before you capitalists ss up completely!"
This conversation was unknown to anyone, and when Lynch left, Mr. Truman even saw him off voluntarily. They chatted awhile downstairs, then Lynch left by car.
Watching the convoy proceed slowly through the snow, Mr. Truman was more filled with a fighting spirit than ever before. It seed he had found the right path and aid to make these his goals and strive for them.
He had no idea what the future would be, but he would do everything in his power to ensure it wouldn’t be so bad!
Seated in the car, Lynch contemplated the upcoming work. The Mariluo offensive had co to a full stop, and those people would retreat back within the Federation.
Currently, the Federation was facing a snow disaster, with no hope of fully resuming work and production before April.
So now, there were only two things left to do; the first involving silver, but since he was still planning it, there was no action for now.
The remaining matter could be pursued, it was related to grain.
Although Nagariel had also encountered its lowest temperatures in history, it was still quite warm compared to the Federation.
He could take a vacation, resolve these issues at the sa ti, and it had been a while since he’d been there. It would be just right to have a chat with Akumal...
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