Chapter 91: Total Prohibition

Vaughn was easy to handle because he was only a vice-chairman.

Watching him slip the check into his pocket, Lans knew the union wouldn’t bother him for now, but solving this problem required speed.

Complaints, when stifled, don’t dissipate—they accumulate until they trigger a qualitative shift.

If you and your opposite-sex companion go shopping, and when you pass your favorite snack stall you ask if they want a taste, and they say no.

But after you buy yourself a portion, and they suddenly demand to take the first bite—big, greedy bite.

Discontent, irritation, resentment—these emotions build up.

You might not say anything then, but one day, these things will become the swords you thrust into their heart during arguments!

Dockworkers are the same. Now that the union has soothed them, they don’t think everything’s fine—they only think, “You got lucky this time, but next time won’t be so easy.”

So we must find other ways.

Lans immediately had some good ideas: “Do we have any working-class sports events in the union—like baseball games?”

Vaughn now looked at Lans with favor and no longer saw him as an enemy: “We used to. There was a dockworkers’ baseball league—three teams total—but we stopped after a few seasons.”

Vaughn had plenty to say on the subject: “The venue isn’t hard to fix, but most workers are exhausted from their shifts—making them compete after a full day is inhumane.”

“And capitalists won’t allow them to take time off for training—they’ll get warnings.”

“Lans, our research found that to make the games appealing, participants must quit their jobs entirely. That wasn’t our original plan.”

There was another point he didn’t mention: the prizes offered had no appeal.

Lans nodded and said, “Pity,” but didn’t elaborate on what exactly he meant.

“Anyway, we’re friends now, Vaughn. If the union hears any voices you don’t understand, tell me right away. Federal workers and immigrant workers are both at the bottom of society—we have no reason to tear each other apart.”

Vaughn agreed: “Your view is correct, and I support it—but not everyone understands.”

“Still, I’ll do my best to convey your perspective. How much I can achieve? I can only say I’ll try.”

Time was up. Lans waved to the waiter: “Pack twelve iced coffees, and deliver them to this gentleman’s office. Use extra cups and ice—this heat is unbearable.”

He paid three dollars: “The rest is a tip.”

Coffee shops at the docks don’t charge much—iced coffee is ten cents a cup. Twelve cups cost only twelve cents. Add what Lans and Vaughn consumed, the total was seventeen cents.

The waiter earned a dollar and thirty cents for one trip—he was so thrilled he nearly wanted to kneel and kiss Lans’s shoes!

Vaughn hurriedly refused: “No need, really no need, Lans.”

Lans gripped his hand: “I know you worry someone might say I’m bribing union staff. Tell them you bought these yourself.”

“I didn’t ask him to do this to flatter you—I simply believe you deserve humanitarian care. It’s too hot!”

Who could refuse such kindness?

Vaughn looked at Lans with growing fondness: “Then I’ll thank you on behalf of my colleagues.”

Lans shook his hand: “I’d welcome meeting your colleagues too. I have other work this afternoon—I’ll take my leave.”

Vaughn saw him to the door. After Lans left, he found the waiter: “Add a hamburger—double beef. I didn’t eat enough today.”

He watched the waiter stand still: “He paid three dollars. Don’t tell me the rest isn’t enough!”

The waiter stared at him for several seconds, the pen nearly piercing the order slip: “It’s enough, sir.”

“Then why are you still standing there?”

After leaving the café, Aierwen started the car. The heat was unbearable—even in the shade, the interior was scorching.

“Did you settle it?” Aierwen asked as he opened the driver’s door. “What was the cost?”

“Four hundred dollars a month, plus a mess of extra expenses—but I think they’re worth it.”

He wiped sweat with a handkerchief: “This damn weather. The meteorological office said it’d cool down in a couple days.”

Aierwen pulled into traffic and teased: “The meteorological office’s only job is to deceive the public—pretend good weather’s coming, then make us believe it.”

Back then, the meteorological office was wildly inaccurate—perhaps due to Jingang City’s geography.

Coastal weather changed too rapidly; relying solely on observation and past records was unscientific.

The heat made people silent. Lans was too—but before falling quiet, he gave Aierwen a task: “Find out who’s reporting us for illegal immigration.”

Some people endured the heat. Others enjoyed air conditioning.

Two buses arrived at City Hall, and a large group entered. The mayor had already prepared to receive them.

When he saw the governor’s assistant, he rushed over and shook his hand firmly.

The governor’s assistant was a member of the Social Party, and rumors said he planned to run for governor once the current one took office.

The Social Party held strong political power in this state. Many viewed Jingang City as the brightest achievement of the Federal Central Economic Reforms—so the next governor would surely be from the Social Party.

Only a few Social Party members in the state were qualified to run for governor. The governor’s assistant was one of them.

Whether he’d win or not, building a good relationship with him now was the right move.

Mr. Lawrence stood nearby, helping with reception—but as an insignificant figure, he didn’t even introduce himself to the governor’s assistant or his entourage. He just stood aside.

The mayor and the governor’s assistant had decent personal ties. Jingang City was the state’s largest and wealthiest city, holding high status in the state government.

As mayor of this city, he naturally wasn’t comparable to mayors of small towns.

After shaking hands, the governor’s assistant introduced the others, starting with church representatives.

God never said people couldn’t drink—but He didn’t encourage it.

In recent years, the push for temperance and prohibition had always been driven by the church. Some extremist sects altered or deleted original teachings, forming a powerful force for prohibition—and providing moral and religious justification for it.

Next came members of temperance associations. The governor’s assistant introduced them with particular solemnity. They seemed unremarkable, but they were closely tied to the Federal upper class.

To the upper class, prohibition was a grand sociological experiment. Every experiment needs an initiator who connects Gefang .

They filled that role—from obscure city councilmen to the President’s mansion, they had access to all.

And this force had expanded beyond prohibition—they could push bans on other things too.

The mayor shook hands warmly with each person and exchanged greetings. Then the group began touring Jingang City’s prosperity.

Other things were hard to judge—but in terms of prosperity, Jingang City was unquestionably top-tier.

Yet these visitors were deeply displeased by the bars and taverns everywhere. One woman told the mayor: “If people spent their drinking and drunken hours working and studying, our productivity and national education levels would rise dramatically.”

“They waste money and time on meaningless things—and alcohol fuels violence and crime.”

“Alcohol harms humanity far more than anything else. Prohibition in Jingang City is inevitable—and must begin immediately.”

The mayor showed no emotional change—only kept nodding and saying yes.

In truth, alcoholic beverages brought enormous economic benefits annually—but nationwide prohibition was underway, and this was a matter of top-level attention. A minor mayor had no power to oppose it.

The delegation stayed two days, touring old photographs and modern docks to complete their visit to Jingang City.

On Saint Nong’s Day, before the eyes of society’s elite, the governor announced at the statehouse that the state was joining the Prohibition Alliance—effective immediately, total prohibition!

The entire state erupted!

But a large crowd also erupted in celebration!

As manufacturing, selling, and transporting alcohol became serious crimes, the state’s alcohol industry seemed to be collapsing?

Why did a statement become a strange question?

Because storing, possessing, and consuming alcohol were not crimes!

In other words, the prices of alcohol stockpiled by various factions began to skyrocket!

Copper Brand Whiskey, previously selling for nearly two dollars, jumped to nearly three dollars. The increase seemed modest—but remember, its lowest price had been only sixty cents.

Earlier, prices had risen slowly, staying under one dollar—but now, it had soared to three dollars!

In bars, a cup of Copper Brand Napoleon Whiskey now cost thirty-five to forty-five cents. Many could no longer afford it.

So bars introduced a new offering: beer mixed with whiskey—for only nineteen cents. Sales were excellent.

Of course, all these bars had become underground establishments. In Jingang City, as alcohol prices surged, so did basement rents.

People gathered in every obscure corner, drawn by the smell of alcohol—drunkards hunting for their fix.

To the government, tax revenue and indirect income from alcohol may have dropped—but for those selling it, the age of Baoli had arrived!