frightfiction Chapter 343 - 165: Prophet
Chapter 343 - 165: Prophet
"But this system... we’re not signing off on it." Smith raised the documents in his hand and added, "At least, not right now."
"We’ll let the factories take the orders and start production. If they really insist on using those so-called ’notes’ for payment..."
Smith paused.
"We’ll accept the notes. But we need to leave ourselves an out."
"What kind of out?"
"If it turns out these notes can’t be redeemed for cash, and if the workers start rioting because they aren’t getting paid."
"We’ll divert the heat to Pittsburgh."
"We’ll tell the workers that Leo Wallace cheated us, that he used a pile of worthless paper to take our steel and cement, and that he’s the reason they can’t put food on the table."
"We’re the victims. We were also duped by that silver-tongued young mayor."
"Shift the blame to Pittsburgh. To the Democratic Party."
"That way, we’ll have an explanation for Warren: ’Look, we were taken in by a Democratic Party scheme. We’re victims, too.’"
Byers’s eyes lit up as he listened.
"Brilliant, Ron. This move lets us get the orders while avoiding the political risk. If it works, we get to feast. If it fails, Leo Wallace is the unlucky bastard who takes the fall."
"Exactly."
Smith straightened his suit.
"Besides, don’t forget Aston Monroe."
"While he lost the primary to Murphy, he’s still the Vice Governor. He can’t openly move against Murphy, who’s now the senatorial candidate, but he absolutely has the power and the motivation to take down the Mayor of Pittsburgh."
"If we turn on Leo, Monroe would certainly be happy to provide us with ammunition, maybe even help us audit Pittsburgh’s books."
"It’s a perfect exit strategy."
The mayors exchanged glances, a tacit understanding passing between them.
They were politicians.
A politician’s first rule of survival is never to solve a problem, but to shift the blame.
"Then it’s settled."
Smith patted the car door.
"Go back and tell those factory owners we got the orders. Tell them to start production. As for the money... we’ll stall."
"We’ll play it by ear."
The convoy started up.
The black SUVs pulled out of the parking lot, merged into the Pittsburgh traffic, and headed toward their respective cities.
They left with the documents, with hope, and with a bomb that could detonate at any moment.
Meanwhile, on the third floor of City Hall, Leo stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the departing convoy.
Ethan stood nearby, hesitating for a long while before finally speaking up.
"Leo, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask."
Ethan’s eyes held a hint of confusion.
"I’m in constant contact with Senator Sanders’s office. I can even look up their latest legislative schedule. But I’ve never heard of him pushing any ’Cross-Regional Economic Cooperation Pilot’ bill in Washington."
"Was this a private call between you two? Or did I miss some important memo?"
Leo turned and looked at Ethan.
"There was no private call, Ethan. You didn’t miss anything," Leo said calmly.
"I never even mentioned it to Sanders."
Ethan froze.
His brain short-circuited for a moment, as if he’d heard something unbelievable.
"What? You never mentioned it?"
"Then just now... you told them this was a Federation pilot program, that it was Sanders’s will, that it had the backing of the entire Democratic Party?"
"You were lying to them?!"
"It’s not lying, Ethan."
Leo shook his head.
"I simply told them something that is bound to happen in the future, just a little ahead of time."
Leo walked to his desk.
"Think about it. If these seven cities really do sign the agreement, if this massive, closed-loop supply chain actually gets up and running, and if it really does solve the unemployment problem for thousands upon thousands of workers..."
"Would Sanders refuse to take credit for it? Would the Democratic Party refuse to claim it as one of their political achievements?"
"They’ll swarm it like sharks that smell blood in the water, scrambling over each other to declare that this was their masterfully planned strategy all along, a great victory for their progressive ideals."
"At that point, I won’t even have to apply for the ’Federation pilot program’ title. Washington will deliver it to our doorstep."
"I just reversed the cause and effect a little."
"As long as they get on board first, as long as they get this machine running, then the legitimate future will naturally follow."
"The result is the same, anyway."
Ethan stared at Leo, his mouth hanging open, speechless for a long moment.
He had always thought of Leo as a radical idealist, but he’d never imagined he was *this* radical.
He was using a future that hadn’t been born yet to overdraw on the trust of the present.
Ethan recalled the look on Leo’s face as he spoke—the tone, the look in his eyes. It wasn’t like a lie fabricated to persuade someone.
It was a certainty that was almost prophetic.
It was as if Leo had traveled through time, had seen that future with his own eyes, had seen Sanders endorsing it from a podium, had seen the Democratic Party write the project into its platform.
He was stating a fact. It was just a fact that existed in the future.
"You..." Ethan swallowed. "You’re a real madman."
"Thanks for the compliment."
Leo smiled, his gaze returning to the window.
"In this crazy world, only those who are crazier than the world itself can survive."
"Besides," Leo’s voice dropped, "they didn’t actually believe me."
"After this bunch gets back, they’ll definitely try to find a way to cover their asses, explain things to their party headquarters, and consult their lawyers."
"If I were them, I wouldn’t believe me either."
There wasn’t a trace of disappointment on Leo’s face.
"A financial system no one has ever seen before, a bunch of intangible electronic code, trying to trade for tens of millions in physical assets. Any normal person would think it’s a scam."
"But they’ll sign in the end."
"Because they have no other choice."
"Get to work, Ethan."
Leo clapped Ethan on the shoulder.
"Build that system."
"Make it real."
"That way, I won’t be a liar."
"I’ll be a prophet."