Chapter 112: Stepping Back Is Not for Boundless Freedom

Lynch already had a plan to take over a large vacant area southeast of Sabin City. Ferrell didn’t argue further; he knew Lynch looked young but was very determined.

With such a person, one suggestion was enough—too many would make him suspicious. Given Lynch’s deep reserves, Ferrell dropped the subject and instead chatted about other things.

Small talk needs someone to start, then it can go anywhere.

Lynch began by mentioning the newspaper report about the three major banks’ trading desks. Ferrell had read it that morning and sighed over the capital’s situation.

“Financial trading is booming like never before. Much of the money that should have gone elsewhere has poured into trading, especially after the six major banks repeatedly cut interest rates last year and early this year. Even ordinary people’s savings have flooded into stock and futures markets…”

Economic stagnation or decline doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a process. A few years ago, growth began to stabilize, then slow, until now some small places are facing waves of factory closures.

During this process, the president’s cabinet, led by the Conservative Party, made some remedial plans. Their simple approach was to lower bank savings rates, pushing more money into society to stimulate consumption and reactivate the economy.

But the results… weren’t great. Lower rates made people think keeping money in banks was pointless. Along with predatory financial firms draining circulating funds, money meant for basic consumption and economic engine fuel ended up in financial markets.

Financial markets kept producing miracles and myths. More people sought investment brokers to put money into securities.

Some indeed made money, or rather, in this distorted era of one-off windfalls, most participants could profit unless very unlucky.

Even small speculative trades yielded gains. These grassroots successes attracted more common folk to join.

The more macro-control was attempted, the more twisted the federal economy became. So far, the president’s cabinet had no better way to reverse the situation. They only hoped to maintain stability and avoid crises during the president’s term.

“Mayor’s recent work is tied to this. Sabin City’s unemployment is rising. Last week five factories declared bankruptcy. Our unemployment rate is over 15%, a dangerous number!”

Ferrell’s face grew serious. Fifteen percent unemployment meant out of Sabin’s 800,000 population, excluding retirees and students, about 60,000 people were jobless.

Each unemployed person affected at least one household, sometimes up to three. That meant roughly 200,000 people in Sabin were struggling with unemployment issues—and the number was growing.

Ferrell’s team believed unemployment might exceed 20% by year-end.

Some might say 20% unemployment means 80% employment, but the data hides a harsh truth.

The core issue was jobs. Once all jobs were filled, the rest had no chance.

And jobs that pay wages were shrinking as closures spread.

So when Lynch proposed creating even 500 jobs, the mayor supported his plan.

In times of massive change, nothing reassures more than a job that can keep a family from starving.

From his talk with Ferrell, Lynch sensed something else. Ferrell, the mayor, even the Progressive Party, all knew the federal problems clearly and understood the nation’s changes.

Lynch grew curious. “Don’t you have any higher-level solutions?”

Even now, some losses could be mitigated, but Lynch hadn’t seen any such efforts.

Newspapers and TV still praised the Baylor Federation’s golden age, ignoring the hopeless faces of the unemployed.

They hailed it as a great era while those grim jobless stood by the roadside.

No one pressed pause; they watched the Baylor Federation’s train race toward the abyss.

Ferrell smiled wryly. “You know, the ruling party is Conservative…”

That said a lot. Ferrell didn’t expect Lynch to fully grasp it, but Lynch nodded gravely, deepening Ferrell’s respect.

“He’s not only business-savvy but politically astute,” Ferrell would later say in interviews. That insight was born today.

Lynch said softly, “Political infighting—I thought our country was different from others.”

Ferrell didn’t know how to respond, finally said helplessly, “Everyone’s the same.”

The Progressives had different ideas, but the Conservatives wouldn’t accept their proposals. If those worked, it would expose Conservative incompetence and risk losing voters.

If they failed, people would see Conservatives as fools, losing voters anyway.

Losing some now meant losing all later.

To protect their party’s image, Conservatives repeatedly rejected Progressive opinions as immature.

They claimed the Conservatives led the Baylor Federation to prosperity. Admitting looming crises would be like slapping themselves—painful and humiliating.

Party politics was brutal. After thinking, Ferrell revealed more: “The Conservatives plan to concede in the next election. They’ll give up this chance.”

The situation was that severe. Having served one term, Conservatives would avoid risking mistakes this time.

If the federation collapsed during the term, the president and cabinet might resign or face impeachment. Public trust would erode, with nostalgia for Conservative-led prosperity growing.

If that happened, the newly elected Progressive cabinet might be impeached, and people would petition for Conservatives to return in crisis.

Then, even if Conservatives did poorly, it wouldn’t matter, since a worse party came first. Their retreat was a painful but understandable strategy.

Both sighed. Ferrell worried about the Progressives’ future; Lynch happily anticipated his upcoming busy days.

The mayor was supposed to return by noon but was delayed. After a quick meal outside City Hall with Ferrell and no news, Lynch asked Ferrell to discuss the land with the mayor while he headed to Sabin’s car sales center.

He needed a car. Sometimes he could rent one from his community service company or borrow from others, but it wasn’t convenient.

He knew how it felt to borrow cars and decided to buy one.

Unlike the Automobile City, where every brand had its own store, Sabin had only two large sales centers: one for engineering vehicles and one for civilian cars.

Entering the huge center, Lynch felt a cool breeze despite the midsummer heat. The spacious hall was nearly empty, with gusts flowing through, giving a deserted feeling.

His footsteps woke the dozing sales manager. Soon, a woman about 27 or 28 approached him. “Sir, are you looking to buy a car?”