Chapter 867: A Salute to the Stars

That evening, after dinner, Lynch sat in the living room watching TV.

He was fully aware that the essence of television programming was to numb the minds of the lower classes, to amplify laziness and fear, and, along the way, to extract the last bits of value from the masses.

But watching occasionally didn’t affect him—it even entertained him sometimes.

He was watching an inspirational program that aired at 8 PM—a time when most people in the Federation had just finished dinner, slouched on their couches with junk food in hand, ready to kill time.

This was the so-called prime time. Between 8 and 10 PM, TV stations slotted in their top-rated shows. You could tell which production teams had clout and which hosts were influential just by noting what time their shows aired.

The program Lynch watched told stories that catered perfectly to the Federation’s current political and social climate—tales of ordinary people becoming middle-class citizens or even wealthy elites.

Motivational content was red hot—blockbuster films, popular dramas, and even reality shows like this were all thriving.

As he watched the protagonist—who embodied every stereotypical image of a middle-aged man in the public consciousness—talk about his journey, Lynch found it amusing.

This guy used to be an ordinary worker. In fact, he’d been unemployed until last year, when he landed a new job.

Before long, he noticed that many similar companies were lacking qualified personnel in technical roles. Problems cropped up all the time due to this gap.

Sensing opportunity, he founded his own service company—just him and a few buddies at first.

At the end of last year, as the economy picked up again, businesses of all sizes began sprouting, creating a massive demand.

His company partnered with the workers’ union, scooping up experienced yet jobless technicians, signing them up, and offering their services to major corporations.

Soon, he made his first hundred thousand, then his first million—and now he was gunning for more.

Inspiring, isn’t it? Makes you think, If I start a business, I can succeed too!

And that’s exactly why this show was a hit.

It teaches people how to seize opportunities, how to succeed!

That’s how The Federal Times praised it—a glowing review. But to Lynch, it was nothing more than a capitalist charade, a beautiful lie, a deeper form of brainwashing.

Whether the successes portrayed in these shows were even replicable was questionable. The very episode Lynch watched made it obvious they weren’t.

It was just like his own secondhand goods auction business—highly situational, only viable in specific stages of social development. You couldn’t replicate that success at will.

Lately, secondhand trading had picked up again. People were starting to crave material goods but lacked the money—secondhand items were the next best thing.

Across York State, secondhand marketplaces were surging. Lynch was raking in profits daily—though, from his current standpoint, the money didn’t matter as much. Still, it was income.

Broadcasting unreplicable stories like this offered no real guidance to the common person. If someone bought into that dream and started a business, they’d soon be jumping off rooftops—or bunking with the homeless in a park.

Since it offered no practical value, it wasn’t truly a lifestyle or career-oriented show. It was pure entertainment—not some magical get-rich guide.

Worse yet, the show constantly instilled a terrifying idea:

I succeeded because I solved problems for capitalists and served them well.

Over the past two centuries, capitalists had shaped the Federation and its people into what they wanted. Worship of capital permeated every facet of life.

Have a different opinion?

Too bad—from TV shows to news reports to cultural norms, everything pushed that same horrifying doctrine.

To succeed, you must serve capitalists.

How terrifying is that?

To others, the show might seem fun and uplifting. But to Lynch, it was a hollow spectacle—individuals holding up signs reading Give Everything to the Capitalists, mindlessly chanting slogans of capitalist supremacy.

In this brainwashed society, everything had become sick and unnatural.

Merchants dictated who got elected president, whether laws passed or not. They controlled jobs, families—even joy.

This was a cruel, pale, warped, and ruthless world.

Such was the nature of a capitalist society—where every last drop of value is squeezed from each person before they’re tossed into the garbage heap.

After two centuries, everything was calcified. Change was almost impossible.

Even for Lynch, changing things was nearly out of reach.

He knew that the only way to rewrite the rules was to first become one of them—the most powerful among them—before he could reshape the world…

At that moment, a loud crash came from the far end of the corridor, snapping Lynch out of his deep thoughts.

He glanced over and faintly heard Penny yelling?

He got up. Other than him, only two girls were in the house. Penny’s temper could be rough sometimes—something he’d known from the start.

It made sense—she was from a comfortable middle-class home, coddled by her company, seen as a rising star. It was inevitable she’d develop a few flaws.

She probably didn’t realize how her sharp tongue could wound like a blade. Lynch, though far from a saint, still had his limits.

He turned off the dreadful TV show and walked toward the noise.

There, he saw Penny standing at the activity room door, hands on her hips, brows furrowed in fury.

“What’s going on?” Lynch asked calmly as he approached.

Maybe it was the TV program’s ideas still lingering in his mind, but something about him now seemed different.

Though outwardly unchanged, his presence had shifted—deep and unfathomable, like a bottomless abyss or a towering mountain.

Just standing near him made your legs go weak. Looking up at him filled you with a sense of your own insignificance.

Penny swallowed hard. She suddenly felt nervous—Lynch’s pressure was immense.

She had always assumed that the so-called aura of powerful men was just a fantasy cooked up by scriptwriters, a trick for the audience. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

“She… she knocked something over,” Penny mumbled, almost reciting lines.

But then, remembering she hadn’t actually done anything wrong—and that this wasn’t a big deal—her courage returned.

“That’s right! She’s a bad girl, and we need to punish her!”

Lynch couldn’t help but chuckle with a mix of amusement and exasperation—was it really necessary to punish someone just for knocking over a small item?

He was planning to use a few gentle stories to teach the girl in front of him that the power of forgiveness could transform a person’s soul.

However, as he moved to stand beside her, he happened to catch a glimpse of the scene inside the room and momentarily froze.

The maid couldn’t see anything, but she could vaguely sense a searing gaze tracing across her body. It was a deeply embarrassing feeling.

Noticing Lynch’s expression freeze, Penny pouted proudly. Her inner thoughts could be summarized in a word and a half:

Hmph (half a word)!

Men (one full word)!

Just as she was getting ready to join Lynch in punishing that bad girl, Lynch suddenly turned to her and said, “I think you also bear some responsibility, so you’ll need to be punished as well.”

As he spoke, he grabbed her hand and started walking toward the room. The girl stood stunned for a moment, then began to resist. “Hey, hey! What does this have to do with me? We’re on the same side!”

“When one person makes a mistake, everyone gets punished!”

“You’re getting punished too!”

Hearing Lynch’s voice, the maid suddenly didn’t feel so nervous anymore…

Smack!

Penny: Sob sob sob…

The maid looked at Penny: Sob sob sob…

Lying in the rooftop bath on the third floor, hot water surged around his body under the power of the pumps, washing away his fatigue.

Holding a glass of wine, Lynch gazed up at the sky, the stars above seemingly shining just for him in that moment.

He looked up at the glittering constellations. They were nothing like the ones in his memory, and he knew that before long, as technology continued to advance, those stars would inevitably be veiled by smog.

This was the best of times under the sky—and also the worst.

He raised his glass, as if inviting the heavens to drink with him.

Life passes so quickly. You think you’re still the person you were yesterday, unaware that you’ve already become someone else by tomorrow. And by the time you realize it, time has left you no room for excuses.

Regardless of what came before or what lies ahead, the present moment demands effort.

With a splash, the girl rose from the water, droplets flying through the air, glittering like the stars overhead.

The next day, the maid got her wish—she received a long-term contract from the community service company, lasting a full three years.

During those three years, not only would she receive a monthly paycheck, but more importantly, the company would pay into the Federal Social Insurance program on her behalf.

And just that one thing—social insurance—was enough to make people crave employment. To the point where they were willing to endure pressures far beyond their actual job duties just to secure a position.