Chapter 210: Everyone Has Their Own Agenda

The public was dissatisfied with the mayor, and so were the city’s capitalists—the group most opposed to social unrest, since it threatened their businesses.

The wealthy businessman’s gathering, supposedly to protect property and fight illegal acts, clearly had other intentions.

Lynch remained silent, standing quietly aside. Although people noticed him, the focus was clearly on the businessman.

The businessman was not entirely correct. Under federal law, trespassing usually refers to invading private, non-commercial property—residences—in which case self-defense is legally protected.

But whether commercial premises count as trespassing, and whether invaders can be shot without hesitation, raises legal and moral questions. Moreover, the businessman’s stated purpose for the gathering was untenable.

If armed guards were stationed in shops to kill looters, juries would likely see this as deliberate murder.

Even if the guards were acquitted, the organizer might be charged with murder. So, few responded enthusiastically to his words—no one there was naïve.

After some time, sensing the mood was favorable, the businessman introduced the gathering’s main topic: “Regarding the recent problems in our city, one man has a unique perspective. Do you know Assemblyman Edward?”

Some nodded. Edward was a member of the state House of Representatives who had proposed various city reforms and often engaged with the public.

He prided himself on skills in blacksmithing and logging, which he claimed to have learned firsthand to understand hard labor.

This earned him some popularity among the working class.

However, his plans had little appeal to the upper class. Being a state legislator was impressive but limited in influence.

Just then, someone knocked. Edward entered.

The businessman briefly explained, “I’ve exchanged many ideas with Edward these past days. He genuinely cares about our lives and interests.”

“Recent events made me realize we need someone to speak for us!”

At this moment, people finally understood the true purpose of the gathering: a political move. Some were interested; they agreed with the businessman that no real change had come so far.

Investing in politicians was a longstanding tradition. Capitalists funded them to expand influence. In return, once in power, politicians worked to benefit their backers—often through tax breaks or favorable local policies.

Some found this tedious. Lynch knew deeper truths: Edward and his supporters had already angered the mayor and his allies.

Whether in the same party or faction, these tensions inevitably brewed conflict.

This was understandable.

Party resources were limited. Even major parties like the Progressives or Conservatives often forgot smaller ones like the Socialists.

Resources concentrated on a few individuals; others had to fight for their place among countless grassroots politicians.

The mayor of Sabin City had earned his position this way, making him visible to some as a viable candidate.

Competition at the grassroots was always brutal—for ordinary people, small business owners, and low-level politicians alike.

Countless small circles in countless rooms formed the complex fabric of society.

Amidst bad news, one good development emerged: after two days of halted supply, the drinking water company and its workers reached an agreement. Limited water would be supplied for two hours each morning and afternoon.

The strike had hurt the workers themselves; their taps ran dry too. After tough negotiations, a compromise was reached: two fewer work hours weekly, a 3.5% wage increase based on hourly pay, and three extra paid vacation days annually.

Satisfied, the workers enjoyed their legal strike leave, unhurried to return. They even aimed to bolster other striking groups.

Perhaps noticing Lynch standing alone, Assemblyman Edward approached with a wine glass.

Lynch was a well-known businessman in Sabin City. In these turbulent times, any company that could avoid losses was rare—one that made weekly profits was exceptional.

Strangely, while most ordinary people distrusted capitalists, many thanked Lynch and his enterprises.

Even the mayor sometimes relied on Lynch’s influence for publicity. Plans were underway to partner with TV and telecom companies to launch live and phone auctions.

If successful, everyone would sense a formidable force rising.

Outside estimates of Lynch’s company neared the level for public listing. Continued success at the state capital’s auctions would attract more investors.

Gaining Lynch’s support meant gaining the attention—and aid—of his backers.

“Didn’t bring a date?” Edward approached Lynch without condescension despite his youth.

Lynch turned, nodding slightly. “I don’t have a girlfriend yet. People like us never have enough time, let alone for dating.”

He swirled his drink lightly. “Maybe after I turn thirty, I’ll consider it.”

A typical opening. Edward clinked glasses with him. “Where do you think our problems lie?”

A broad question. Lynch thought briefly. “Communication.”

If labor and management could calmly sit and talk, rather than resort to radical strikes, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this.

But problems have two sides. Perhaps they tried and failed before, making strikes a regular tool—because only then would capitalists listen.

This strike, though, was larger and more destructive than any before.

Edward raised his glass toward Lynch. “Exactly right. Communication. So far, no effective channels exist. Calls and speeches change nothing.”

He implied the mayor’s actions were pointless—and it seemed true.

A slight smile appeared. “Unlike Landon and others, I’m not an academic politician or an elite from a prestigious university. They don’t understand what people really want.”

“And I…” He took a step back, making expressive gestures that made his words more compelling. “I come from an ordinary elementary school, an ordinary high school, an ordinary university. I know what those people want because I came from among them.”

This claim wasn’t entirely true—those real people couldn’t afford college. Those who could attend were at least middle class, at minimum.

He shifted his tone. “I’m familiar with the union branch leaders. In the next few days, I plan to talk with them about resolving labor disputes. If you have any concerns, maybe you can raise them during the negotiations.”

This was how he drew people in—meeting face-to-face with union leaders about the strike. Many there desperately wanted the strike to end and work to resume. Assemblyman Edward confidently held their needs in hand; his bargaining chip was strong.

But that chip was less useful to Lynch. He didn’t command many workers—only a large group of partners.

Besides, he never forced anyone to work hard. His attitude was do it if you want. Personal interest motivated people more than pressure. Money worked better than a whip.

Lynch shook his head. “Glad you thought of me, but I don’t have those troubles right now.”

Edward was a little disappointed, but only mildly. He didn’t expect one meeting to win everyone’s support—if he could, he’d be president by now.