Chapter 550 - 259: The Trigger of Revolution
Harrisburg, the Governor’s Mansion.
Governor Bob Campbell sat behind his desk.
His secretary stood before the desk, reporting on the latest absurdity from the Senate.
"Governor, the new interim president of the Senate, Mr. William Saint Cloud..." The secretary’s expression was twisted. "Yesterday, he refused to schedule a hearing for a funding proposal for state park maintenance."
"What was the reason?" Campbell rubbed his temples, which were starting to throb. "Budget overruns? Or did it fail the environmental assessment?"
"No," the secretary said with difficulty. "He said the park’s design blueprint looked like a—pardon my language—like a flattened piece of broccoli."
"He said it was a grave insult to the aesthetic of Pennsylvania and that he would refuse to schedule the hearing unless they hired a designer from Italy to redraw it."
Campbell’s expression stiffened.
"There’s more," the secretary continued. "He converted the Senate lounge into a wine-tasting room. He’s even demanding that all senators first comment on his tie’s color scheme before they’re allowed to speak."
Campbell let out a long sigh.
He knew exactly what this was about, of course.
Leo Wallace had pushed a rich kid with a mind for nothing but fashion and parties into the highest position in the legislature. It was all to muddy the waters and grind the entire State Government to a halt.
Campbell picked up the remote and turned on the television mounted in the corner.
A political commentary show called *Pennsylvania Observer* was playing on the screen.
The host was commenting on Campbell’s recent public appearances in an exaggerated tone.
"Look at our Governor. He nearly fell at the ribbon-cutting ceremony yesterday. While the official explanation was an uneven carpet, we have to ask: does this man, who is already in his sixties, still have enough energy to handle the increasingly complex challenges facing Pennsylvania?"
The scene cut to a clip of Campbell pausing briefly to think during a speech, edited to make it look like he was staring blankly into space.
"Some say he’s steady, but what I see is sluggishness. When calls for healthcare reform are sweeping the state, when the Luigi case is tearing society apart, where is our Governor? He’s in his office, drinking tea. He’s avoiding the issues."
The ticker at the bottom of the screen was filled with trending comments from Twitter:
"Campbell’s old."
"We need new blood."
"He’s sleeping while Pennsylvania is sinking."
Campbell turned off the television.
These attack methods were all too familiar.
This was a classic smear campaign playbook used against old-school politicians.
They attack your age, they attack your energy, and they paint you as an outdated fossil who can’t keep up with the times.
For Campbell, this level of media assault should have been as insignificant as a mosquito bite.
’Who hasn’t been cursed out? Who hasn’t been questioned?’
But this time, Campbell felt a flicker of unease.
The unease stemmed from a keen intuition.
’The wind has shifted.’
Yesterday, he had called the chairman of the Democratic National Committee to ask about follow-up support for the "Critical Infrastructure and Healthcare Worker Safety Protection Act."
The chairman’s response had been ambiguous, merely telling him to "do your job and secure the base in Pennsylvania."
"Luigi Randall..."
Campbell muttered the name under his breath.
The case in Philadelphia had ended in a mistrial.
In his view, it was a simple murder case.
No matter what hardships that young man had faced, no matter how detestable the insurance company was, murder was murder.
But someone was fanning the flames from behind the scenes.
Someone had turned this case into a totem, a lever to pry loose the rules of society itself.
He couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it besides Leo Wallace.
That young man’s goal was clear: he wanted to pass that damned Mutual Aid Alliance act. He wanted to establish a healthcare payment system independent of the existing one.
To achieve this, Leo was willing to turn the entire state upside down.
"Get me Mayor Wallace."
Campbell looked up and said to his secretary.
"Ask him to come to Harrisburg. Tell him I want to talk about the future of Pennsylvania."
"A private chat."
...
「The next afternoon.」
Leo Wallace walked into the study of the Governor’s Mansion.
Dark bookshelves were filled with legal texts. Two comfortable leather sofas faced each other, with an exquisite silver tea set on the coffee table between them.
Campbell was already seated, looking like a kindly, grandfatherly neighbor.
"Sit, Leo."
Campbell gestured to the opposite sofa and personally picked up the teapot, pouring Leo a cup of black tea.
"This is good tea. Darjeeling. Have a taste."
Leo sat down, lifted the cup, and took a polite sip.
"Good tea, Governor."
"There’s no one else here. Just call me Bob."
Campbell smiled, his eyes gentle.
"I know you’ve been busy lately. Pittsburgh has changed a lot. I’ve seen the reports."
"The second phase of the revival plan, and that Inland Port project. I have to say, you’ve done an impressive job. Better than many old mayors who’ve been at it their whole lives."
"This is just the beginning," Leo said, setting down his cup.
"Yes, just the beginning."
Campbell nodded.
"It’s good to be young. Full of drive, full of ideas, thinking all the world’s problems can be solved with a revolution."
He paused, his gaze turning to Leo, growing profound.
"I’ve heard about the moves you’ve been making in the Senate, with William Saint Cloud as president. And that Industrial Revival Alliance, that trust system that bypasses the US Dollar."