Chapter 551 - 259: The Trigger of Revolution
Campbell looked at Leo as if he were a child.
"You’re very ambitious, Leo."
"But I must remind you, Pennsylvania is a massive ship. It can’t afford to be rocked too violently."
"I’m not trying to rock the boat," Leo responded calmly. "I’m trying to patch the holes in its hull. If I do nothing, this ship will sink."
"Patching holes?"
Campbell chuckled.
"This is where we differ."
"I also want what’s best for this state, Leo. My goal has always been to revive Pennsylvania, to bring prosperity back to the Rust Belt. We are in agreement on that goal."
"But your methods are too radical."
Campbell’s tone grew grave.
"That Mutual Aid Alliance bill... I know your intentions are good. You want to make healthcare affordable for the poor and break the insurance companies’ monopoly."
"But you can’t just throw oversight completely out the window."
"Without audits from the State Government, without supervision from the insurance commission, that massive pool of funds will become a black box. Who can guarantee it won’t be abused? Who can guarantee it won’t become another Ponzi scheme?"
"I vetoed that bill to protect the people entrusting their life savings to you."
"Oversight is essential."
"We need order, we need rules. Reform must be conducted within the framework of the law. Not like this—by riling up the public and painting a murderer as a hero to force your way through."
Leo looked at the Governor before him.
’He wasn’t wrong.’
’From the perspective of traditional politics, from the standpoint of a responsible chief executive, Campbell’s concerns were perfectly reasonable.’
’He wasn’t a bad person.’
’He wasn’t corrupt, nor was he plundering the state.’
’Campbell had never wanted for any of those things.’
’He was the scion of an old-money Pennsylvania family; a devotion to order and a sense of responsibility flowed in his veins.’
’He wanted to realize his political ideals, to make Pennsylvania a better place.’
’But he was simply old.’
’Moderate reformism couldn’t shake the state’s deeply entrenched interest groups.’
’He put too much faith in an old order that was already rotten.’
"Bob."
Leo spoke, his voice quiet.
"You’re a good man."
"In this business, you’re considered a decent man."
Campbell raised an eyebrow slightly.
"But decency doesn’t save lives."
Leo’s gaze turned cold.
He knew that the moment Campbell had summoned him to this study, they had already entered a head-on confrontation.
The old Governor must have sensed the widespread turmoil from the subtle clues.
Calling him over was merely force of habit for an old-school politician.
He wanted to talk, to compromise, to defuse the impending war over a cup of tea.
Though the conversation’s atmosphere was calm, Leo knew full well that if they failed to reach a compromise today, the only thing awaiting them was a fight to the death.
"You talk about oversight, about order. But when insurance companies use legal means to deny claims, letting patients die on the operating table, where is your oversight? Where is your order?"
"You think because it’s compliant with the rules, it’s therefore right."
"But in my eyes, that’s murder."
Leo stood up.
"You say I’m radical. Yes, I am."
"Because when you’re faced with a pool of stagnant water, if you don’t throw a bomb into it, it will remain a pool of stagnant water forever."
"You want to enact reforms gently, to pour the poison out of the bottle without shattering the glass."
"But that’s impossible."
"This system has already formed a perfect, closed loop. The insurance companies, the hospitals, the pharmaceutical companies, and politicians like you who maintain the order—you all form an impenetrable fortress."
"Inside that fortress, the lives of the poor are just numbers, just costs."
"I intend to smash that fortress."
Leo stared into Campbell’s eyes.
"Therefore, there is no room for compromise between us."
"This is what a political struggle is, Bob. It’s not a dinner party, not a polite chat in a tea room."
"It is a fight to the death."
Campbell was stunned.
He hadn’t expected Leo to speak with such finality.
He had thought that with his seniority and conciliatory posture, he could at least persuade the young man to show some restraint, or perhaps reach some kind of political bargain.
But he realized he was wrong. Leo had no interest in making a deal.
"First, there was Sanders. He wanted me to be a good boy, and I refused."
Leo straightened his suit.
"Now it’s you, and you want me to be a rule-abiding subordinate."
"I refuse."
"There’s no other way."
"For the sake of the Mutual Aid Alliance, you have to get out of the way."
Having said his piece, Leo turned and walked to the door.
Campbell sat on the sofa, the teacup in his hand grown cold.
He watched Leo’s retreating back and suddenly felt a profound chill.
It was not a fear of Leo himself, but a fear of a new era.
A savage era that no longer cared for decency or seniority, that only cared about winning and losing, about life and death—that era was now striding into this ancient mansion with the young man’s every step.
"You’ll regret this, Leo."
Campbell said to the retreating figure.
"You’ve broken all the rules. In the end, those same rules will devour you."
Leo paused, his hand on the doorknob.
"Perhaps."
"But that’s my concern."
The door opened, then closed.
Leo walked out of the Governor’s Mansion.
The sun was bright outside, but he felt none of its warmth.