Chapter 278: Difficult Times

Lynch was full of goodwill, and the little jokes between them helped both prepare for the conversation ahead. They had left City Hall, entered the parking lot, and got into Ferrell’s car.

In the confined space, there was a sense of security. Ferrell rolled down the window slightly and lit a cigarette. “The workers’ union is planning another protest soon. Did you know?”

Lynch shook his head. He had just returned a few days ago and wasn’t focused on the workers’ situation. He had no friends in the union and no interest, so he hadn’t heard about it.

The union’s unrest was mostly because life had become very hard. With a 20% unemployment rate, Sabin City was in a dire state.

People walked the streets weakly; some large men were so thin they were skin and bones, needing to rest after a few steps. Their lack of strength made even walking a burden.

Security in Sabin City was surprisingly good now. Veterans had filled the police force’s gaps after a strike. They were more effective and tougher than ordinary officers.

Previously, police and street figures were well known to each other. This sometimes helped solve cases faster but also caused problems like leaks and favoritism.

Now, none of that existed. Police cleared the streets thoroughly. People stayed home, and those left barely had the energy to commit crimes, improving security.

But none of this changed the harsh fact: people had no jobs. Work was more important than anything right now.

Some newspapers even reported shocking stories: a teenage girl sleeping with a man in his fifties just to get a waitress job; a family of two generations of women arrested for illegal recruitment, driven to suicide by relentless pressure from courts, society, and public opinion.

So many things added up to one truth: without jobs, society can’t truly stabilize. The union’s protest aimed to get City Hall to provide jobs to prevent desperate families from turning to crime.

From a moral perspective, their demand was reasonable, even noble. But their methods were unpopular, causing headaches for the mayor.

“The mayor told me you’ve created a new way to get people to work for you…” Ferrell started.

Before he finished, Lynch interrupted, “No, it’s not employment. I must correct your and the mayor’s misunderstanding: we’re partners.”

Lynch patiently explained his cooperation model. These people weren’t his workers; their family-run workshops were micro-enterprises, and Lynch ran another business.

He placed orders with them. It was a partnership, not employment.

“So, it’s not employment. I don’t have to guarantee working hours, income, or social benefits. Do you understand?”

Ferrell looked puzzled. The mayor hadn’t explained clearly and sounded annoyed, as if Lynch was a problem.

Ferrell initially thought Lynch strange, but now he agreed—Lynch was something else.

When people talk about capitalist cruelty, they mention laws like minimum wage and worker protection laws that prevent arbitrary exploitation.

Capitalists must operate within these rules to exploit workers.

But Lynch stepped outside that framework entirely. Ferrell didn’t know whether to call him a genius or a bastard. He believed capitalists nationwide would love Lynch’s idea—it would save them a fortune.

Yet Ferrell worried: if all capitalists adopted this, many workers would lose protections and might not even afford social insurance.

Ferrell raised concerns, and Lynch patiently explained. To get people to accept this, they first had to see it wasn’t exploitation.

Piecework was a process created by ordinary people and families to realize self-worth. If they worked hard, they could earn more than factory wages.

If they chose to slack or do nothing, they’d get nothing.

“Society isn’t a parenting bag. It may be harsh here, but there’s fairness no other place offers—true fairness.”

“You get what you put in. If that isn’t fair, I don’t believe anything in this world can be called fair.”

“Besides, my friend, whether a system lasts depends on society’s response. What fits will survive; what doesn’t will disappear quickly.”

“None of us know if my method will work or suit society and the times. It needs testing, but I believe it’s a good approach.”

Ferrell smoked several cigarettes, finding no arguments to refute Lynch’s reasoning. He finally sighed with a bitter smile. “I think you’ve convinced me.”

Lynch added, “The truth becomes clearer through debate.”

“You always have special phrases…” Ferrell murmured, then hesitated. “The mayor said if you can convince the union to try your method, maybe you can talk to them first.”

This showed the mayor had made a concession. He had no choice. Among working-age people willing to work, one in five was unemployed.

Sabin City had about 800,000 people, with around 150,000 suitable and willing to work, but 30,000 had no jobs.

These 30,000 affected about 100,000 families, impacting 200,000 to 300,000 lives. The number was frightening. If unemployment stayed this high or rose, the city government might dissolve and be replaced by a new election or even self-governance, possibly leading to the city’s end.

Sabin’s unemployment was higher than elsewhere mainly because the Liston Group collapsed. The mayor had hoped investigating and keeping them would prevent more job losses.

But the problem worsened. Even if the group stayed, they couldn’t operate.

Years of falsified financial reports had left them losing money annually. Even if the mayor and governor ignored them, bankruptcy was inevitable.

The mayor was now cornered and recalled Lynch’s earlier proposal.

Lynch’s spirit lifted. “When do I talk to them?”

“The night after tomorrow. There’s a big protest during the day. After the protest, you can talk. You can pick the location, but the union wants it at their office.”

Lynch chuckled and nodded slightly. Ferrell’s words hinted at something else.

The mayor could have negotiated with the union to prevent the protest, but he showed no sign of doing so. The union even wanted the talks at their office. The whole situation carried a strange political tone.

The mayor wanted to show his power and influence—crush the protest as soon as it started to prove his strength.

The protest? Forget it. This was the Free Federation, where protests and assemblies were constitutional rights. They could even start without notifying social services. Police couldn’t disperse them and had to maintain order because this was the Federation’s precious spirit of freedom.

These people held protests even in good times—like weekends protesting the lack of beef in their lunch from capitalists. Now with things this bad, protests were everywhere. No one blamed Sabin City for its protest.

The union representatives, who didn’t see themselves as workers, also wanted to show their influence.The moment the protest began, the city hall immediately sent people to resolve the issue. This could only mean that the local workers’ union had done an excellent job in terms of cohesion and influence. The local union leader might even be rewarded by the union’s higher-ups and promoted into the Social Party, becoming a middling-level politician.

Compromise?

No, more like collusion.

Sensing a certain disdain in Lynch’s expression, Ferrell let out a dry chuckle. “Is there a problem?”

“Problem?” Lynch snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. “Of course not. I’ll convince them.”

“That’s good. The mayor didn’t say it directly, but I can tell he takes this matter very seriously.”

After parting ways, Lynch returned home. Though he had been away for several days, the place remained spotless. The maid had been diligently cleaning in his absence, ensuring the home stayed pristine.

Her work attitude was even more focused, meticulous, and upbeat than before. Her skirts had gotten shorter, her neckline lower and more revealing—of course, all just to keep her job.

In this era, in this environment, nothing came easy for anyone.