Chapter 973: White Watch: Social Activist and Backroom Deals

Seven days passed quickly; Pedro reluctantly left Zhuolan and set off on the road back to his hometown.

But they would meet again soon, for Lans said he would invite them to the Federation.

To see what ordinary life was truly like beneath the Federation’s society.

Pedro was thrilled; already, he felt the reverence of a pilgrim toward this journey.

This period of exchange had given him and all participants too much shock!

It also made them understand one truth.

One person has no power.

But a group, united together, possesses the power to change the entire world!

Unity!

After eating their final lavish dinner that night, Lans let them depart.

These people carried the expectations of Lans and the Federation; soon, Lapa would descend into chaos, and he hoped they could play some role.

He had just returned to the hotel when those left behind came forward to greet him.

“The Federation called—someone from the Labor Union wants to speak with you.”

Lans took the small card with a number on it but did not dial immediately; it was late, and he had other matters to attend to.

Roger had been waiting for him for some time; when he saw Lans step out of the elevator, he immediately stood up, flanked by two members of the chamber of commerce and one man who looked…

Lans’s gaze lingered on the man—a Lapa native, dressed in ill-fitting formal attire, his tie crooked and askew.

He gave Lans the impression of a monkey stuffed into a suit, not even worthy of being called an ape.

At least an ape inspires a sense of menace; this man only evoked absurdity.

He raised a hand; Roger stepped forward to introduce him. “This is Nicholas.”

“Nicholas is a well-known illustrator in Lapa; he’s published some comic strips, very popular here.”

Lans had tasked Roger with setting up a newspaper.

The newspaper could not use too much text, as Lapa’s illiteracy rate was astonishingly high.

The Federation had eradicated illiteracy among most of its population during the Forward Movement; before the movement erupted, three or four out of every ten Federates could not read or write.

In some states, illiteracy exceeded sixty percent—six out of every ten people could not read or write.

But the Forward Movement solved this: widespread literacy campaigns, plus sending more children to school for basic education, had seen the old illiterates pass into God’s embrace.

The remaining few could now read and write some words.

The Federation government considered them no longer illiterate, but some grassroots educational institutions still deemed them illiterate, for they could not read or write most words or sentences.

They could only read and write what directly related to their lives or what they’d learned in literacy classes—barely half-literate.

This was why movie audiences had been small; though the Federation government boasted low illiteracy rates, most still could not fully comprehend the dialogue subtitles.

But compared to Lapa, it was heaven and earth.

Most people in Lapa could not read; if a printed newspaper contained too much text, virtually no one could read it, so Lans had tasked Roger with finding a local artist.

Comic strips were the most basic, most accessible art form.

Readers needed no high level of education; they only needed eyes to see what lay before them.

The Federation had suitable illustrators too; Lans had sent invitations, but for now, he still intended to use a local “editor-in-chief.”

Only locals knew what forms of expression would be understood and accepted by all.

Lans extended his hand; Nicholas shook it with extreme caution, even sycophancy.

He bowed low, head tilted up, face beaming with obsequious smiles. “I am honored and delighted to work for you, Mr. White.”

Lans shook his hand briefly, then withdrew it; he gestured for Nicholas to sit, and had coffee brought.

Lapa produced coffee beans, but the quality was poor, and it lacked sufficient technology and teams to process them properly.

Thus, local coffee resources remained largely undeveloped.

Ordinary people disliked drinking it; the home-brewed version was bitter and astringent, but the hotel’s coffee was different—it used imported beans.

It had a slight bitterness, an unavoidable trait of coffee, but the astringency was nearly gone; only the rich, mellow aftertaste remained.

“I haven’t seen your comic strips, but I believe they are no different from the world’s masterpieces hanging in art galleries.”

“You’re merely less famous than they are!”

These words thrilled Nicholas; he longed to speak, to express his surging emotion.

To be praised so highly by a great man—this was undoubtedly the brightest moment of his life!

But he didn’t know how to speak; after stammering “I” three times, Lans raised a hand to stop him.

If he were skilled at expressing himself through words, he would likely be a novelist, not a comic artist.

“This job isn’t difficult. You need only freely, without burden, unleash your talent to create.”

Lans sipped his coffee. “Do you know what satire is?”

Nicholas nodded. “I know. I’ve used satirical narrative structures.”

“Satire is a knife—it pierces the most painful places!”

Lans was surprised; he hadn’t expected an illustrator from this poor, backward place to possess such sharp insight. This was good.

“You’re right,” he paused a few seconds. “Besides you, how are your family doing here?”

“Can your income support them?”

Nicholas’s expression lost its earlier brightness, though his smile remained.

“Mr. White, I have other work; comic strips cannot support my family. We live in great hardship.”

Lapa’s publishers were either controlled by the ruling elite or the privileged class; they hired Nicholas for illustrations or comics but paid barely anything.

Two or three thousand Palas per piece was considered generous, and once he finished, they’d dismiss him.

He received no share of sales or royalties—not a single penny.

From Lans’s perspective, Nicholas was someone with social influence; if used well, he could be more destructive than an entire company.

Thinking of this, Lans smiled and reassured him: “Focus on your work. I’ll give you a monthly salary of one hundred Federal Sols.”

“And I’ll help you apply to immigrate you and your family to the Federation—free you from this terrible environment, so you can work without worry.”

Nicholas was so moved he could barely sit still; he nearly rose several times.

Had he understood that kowtowing could express his gratitude, he would have bowed to Lans right now.

“I… I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. White.”

Lans patted his forearm, then turned to Roger. “Contact the embassy—get Nicholas’s children sent back as exchange students first.”

He then looked at Nicholas. “Let them adapt to Federation life and receive better education first. When the time is right, I’ll send your entire family.”

“Someone will accompany you shortly. Actually, this job is simple…”

Lans then had someone lead Nicholas away to his office, already prepared.

Printing equipment would arrive in Zhuolan within days; though not brand-new, they were secondhand, yet still fully functional.

Lapa didn’t need colorful, flashy prints, so no high-end color printers were required.

Once the editors arrived, they could begin trial operations.

“Find more people like him—those with social influence and positive public images. Bring them into our camp.”

“Pay them. Help their families immigrate. In return, they cooperate with our work.”

“The more backward a place, the more foolish its people—unable to think for themselves. They believe only those who are famous or authoritative.”

Roger nodded repeatedly. “I’ll arrange it.”

Social activists, writers, artists, musicians—any “master” was a target for Lans’s recruitment.

This was an entire strategy; Lans doubted the first movement could settle Lapa’s politics outright—he thought the odds slim.

And it wasn’t suitable for them to handle it alone.

It was like Federation plumbers: they’d bring seven or eight tools, sometimes over a dozen, just to replace a single pipe.

They’d make the entire process seem incredibly complex, just to convince you: you can’t do this, but we can.

Hiring them costs money—that’s the plumber’s goal.

Of course, this analogy isn’t perfect, but the essence is identical.

If political movements or ordinary reforms could easily topple this nation’s ruling elite, they wouldn’t necessarily turn toward the Federation.

Only when they realized they couldn’t handle it themselves, sinking deeper into despair, would the Federation’s arrival make them lean on it without reservation.

After resolving this, Lans returned to his study and dialed the number left by the Labor Union.

During this time, Mr. Walter (acting vice-chair of the Labor Union) had been having a hard time; his legal team had linked him to a violent assault case in a swing state.

Rape was a serious crime; assault was also serious, but rape was attempted, while assault was completed; under Federation law, the swing state had formally requested Walter’s extradition for new trial and proceedings.

But local proceedings weren’t complete; without conviction or sentencing here, they couldn’t extradite him yet.

The Labor Union was in a critical phase of party-building; after several internal discussions, they decided to distance themselves from Walter and minimize the fallout.

This call came from another acting vice-chair.

“This is Robert’s office. I’m Robert.”

Lans glanced at the card—only a number, nothing else. “Someone told me to call this number. I’m Lans White.”

“Mr. White?”

“Hello, I’m Robert, acting vice-chair of the Labor Union. It seems you’ve received my message.”

“Sorry to disturb you during work. I’d like to discuss Walter.”

Lans waited two or three seconds, giving the impression he was deliberating before replying. “Go ahead.”

“We respect the workers’ own choice in Licaile State. We don’t force them to choose between two options or anything else. It’s yours now.”

“We’ll handle Walter’s case quietly.”

The Labor Union now has few options left; if they continue to oppose Lans, Lans will further escalate the scandal of Walter’s attempted rape.

Even if some know it’s a frame-up, there will always be those who believe it.

Such a scandal emerging at the very founding of the Workers’ Party, concerning the originally designated chair of the Workers’ Party Representative Committee, would be a heavy blow to the party’s legitimacy.

So they plan to abandon certain positions in Licaile State—such as allowing workers to leave the Labor Union and the trade unions, and no longer requiring a minimum percentage of union members among factory workers.

In exchange for Lans keeping the Walter matter quiet.

They know Lans is unlikely to have him “released without charge”; the best outcome now is to handle it quietly and prevent further escalation.

To do this, they absolutely need Lans’s approval.

Without Lans’s approval, Mr. Walter will remain imprisoned in Licaile State, and they might even refuse extradition requests from swing states.

In the process of weighing pros and cons, Mr. Walter was abandoned.

There was no choice; whether he was innocent no longer mattered at this point.

What mattered was that the Labor Union, even if it paused forming the Workers’ Party, could hardly muster any real power against Lans.

They had many ways to fight capitalists and politicians, but against someone like Lans, they had no options at all—so they could only choose compromise.

After some thought, Lans laid out several conditions: “Resign from your position in the Labor Union, issue a public statement demanding severe punishment for your actions, actively compensate the victims, and apologize to them.”

“Donate no less than two hundred thousand to organizations protecting women’s and minors’ rights.”

“If you do these things, I can have them hand Walter over to you.”

The newly appointed acting vice-chairman, Robert, agreed almost without hesitation: “Someone like Walter is a scumbag—he only brings shame to our ranks and to the great working class!”

“We have already decided through discussion to remove him from all positions and pursue his legal responsibility.”

At this point, Lans realized the Labor Union wanted Walter silenced more than he did.

After a moment’s consideration, he agreed.

Keeping this man was useless; it was better to hand him over.

Smearing the Labor Union with dirt had some use, but if they were truly pushed to the brink, they would launch a nationwide strike to force Lans to compromise.

Lans could handle local strikes, but not a nationwide one; eventually, Congress would intervene and force him to concede.

Since compromise was inevitable anyway—and it would make everyone lose face—he had done what he needed to do, but Senator Cleveland would surely buckle under nationwide strike pressure and force him to yield.

This would mean forcing him to “work” while simultaneously punishing him; their relationship would inevitably develop cracks because of this.

Even if Lans had no thoughts about Senator Cleveland, what about the senator himself?

Would he start overthinking?

I told you to handle Walter, then turn around and force you to compromise—wouldn’t that make you think I’m capricious and untrustworthy?

Rather than let things reach that point and create a trust crisis between us, it’s better to compromise now.

He then informed Senator Cleveland of the matter, explaining his reasons frankly.

The senator expressed support for Lans’s judgment and decision.

“Your thinking is correct; if they truly begin pushing for a nationwide strike, we’ll be put on the defensive.”

“You made the right choice!”

He paused. “How’s things going with you in Lapa?”

Lans recounted his work during this period; Senator Cleveland sharply picked up on the key information in his words.

“You’re saying there will be some changes there soon,” Senator Cleveland took a deep breath. “You’re even more… I don’t know how to put it, Lans.”

“This will be a heavy blow to Lapa’s ruling group and shake the very foundation of their rule—but you must watch your safety. You’re important now.”

“When you finish your work and return, I’ll have the President award you the Gold Star Medal, in recognition of everything you’ve done…”

With Lans’s phone call, Mr. Walter’s case moved with extraordinary speed.

The Labor Union actively compensated the victims and secured their forgiveness.

The court had already convicted and sentenced him to three years in prison.

But since he refused to serve time, and the Labor Union was still active, Licaile State signed the extradition documents and sent Mr. Walter to the swing state where the Labor Union had the greatest influence.

(End of Chapter)