Chapter 588 - 274: The TV in the Barbershop

The town of Homestead, a suburb of Pittsburgh.

Tony’s barbershop sat at the end of the town’s only commercial street.

The shop wasn’t large, with only two old-fashioned swivel chairs and a mirror covered in yellowed posters.

The barbershop had been open for thirty years and served as the community’s intelligence hub.

Whose kid had gone off to work in another city, who had a new grandchild, who got drunk at the bar—Tony knew it all.

Most importantly, it had an old-fashioned television set.

It was on twenty-four hours a day, always playing the news.

Tony believed that in this world, the only truth was what the television said.

Today, the television was broadcasting live from a Philadelphia courthouse.

On the screen, Luigi Randall raised his shackled fists before being led away by the bailiffs.

Tony’s hand trembled, and the scissors in it nearly snipped his customer’s ear.

The muscles on his wrinkled face twitched, his eyes filled with rage.

"Damned world," Tony muttered. "They send a good kid to prison but let those Vampires run free."

The customer in the chair, a truck driver covered in grease, chimed in, "Exactly! Eighty percent of my damn pension gets skimmed off by those son-of-a-bitch insurance companies! On what grounds? On what grounds!"

The streets were full of people holding signs, and the wail of sirens never stopped all night.

Tony had to close up early, afraid the angry protesters might smash his shop window in the heat of the moment.

Those were terrible days for Tony.

The television was filled with negative news about Pittsburgh.

One moment, it was a bloody conflict in a Harrisburg square; the next, Governor Campbell and Vice Governor Monroe were attacking each other in the media; then, it was a secret investigation by the FBI.

All fingers pointed to one man—Leo Wallace.

Watching the news, Tony felt a surge of worry.

He knew full well these attacks were meant to bring down the young Mayor. ’If Leo falls, Pittsburgh is really done for.’

He sat in his shop every day, his scissors trembling in his hand. He even nearly cut a customer’s face while giving him a shave.

He was afraid.

Afraid of returning to the lifeless, hopeless days of a year ago.

He was afraid Pittsburgh would be forgotten once again.

A few days later, an emergency news bulletin interrupted the broadcast.

On the screen, Governor Bob Campbell stood behind a podium in the press briefing room. His face was ashen, and his body seemed on the verge of collapse.

"I have decided to resign from my position as Governor of Pennsylvania."

Tony was stunned.

He watched the familiar figure stumble off the podium and disappear into the shadows.

Campbell was gone.

Tony didn’t feel happy.

The old guy was mediocre, but at least he had maintained some semblance of order.

He had an ominous feeling.

’It feels like the world is losing its last shred of decency.’

Immediately after, the scene changed.

The Harrisburg State Capitol Building.

Aston Monroe was standing there.

He wore a sharp, tailored suit, his hair combed immaculately.

His face wore an expression of perfectly measured solemnity, mixed with the unique confidence of a man newly risen to power.

He was being sworn in.

The new Governor of Pennsylvania.

Monroe’s inaugural address was ambitious.

He promised to lead Pennsylvania to new prosperity, to restore the state’s dignity, and to maintain law and order with an iron fist.

"This kid seems to have some substance," Tony said to the customer in the mirror, the clippers in his hand buzzing. "A lot more spirited than that pushover Campbell."

The customer shrugged. "Who cares? As long as he doesn’t mess with the taxes."

Tony said that, but a sense of unease rose in his heart.

He looked at Monroe’s overly perfect face and felt that something cold was hidden there.

Just then, the television screen suddenly went dark, leaving only static.

The customers in the barbershop grumbled in dissatisfaction.

"Hey, Tony, is your TV broken? I was just getting to the good part!"

Tony slapped the old television set, but there was no response.

Just then, the screen lit up again.

The scene switched to the press briefing room of the Governor’s office in Harrisburg.

Aston Monroe stood behind the podium, his face pale as if he hadn’t slept in days.

He wasn’t looking at a teleprompter, nor was he holding any notes.

He simply faced the camera and spoke in an utterly exhausted voice.

"Due to... a sudden and serious health problem."

"I have decided to resign from my position as Governor of Pennsylvania."

"Effective immediately."

With that, before any of the reporters could react, he turned, stumbled off the podium, and disappeared through a side door.

The entire event lasted less than thirty seconds.

The clippers in Tony’s hand stopped mid-air.

He stared at the empty podium on the screen, at the dumbfounded reporters looking at each other, and felt like his own brain had just crashed.

"What... What’s going on?"

Tony muttered to himself.

"One minute he’s talking about leading Pennsylvania to prosperity, and the next he’s having a heart attack?"

"These Politicans are so damn fragile."

...

A few days later, negative news about Governor Monroe began to surface quietly.

It started with a few niche left-wing blogs and independent investigative websites.

They published some "preliminary evidence" of campaign finance violations from Monroe’s early career, claiming he had laundered tens of millions of US Dollars in political donations through shell companies in Philadelphia.

The story gained very little traction.

The mainstream media didn’t mention it at all. Even the right-wing outlets that usually prided themselves on fighting corruption remained silent.

"A political attack."

Tony watched a political commentator on TV analyze Monroe’s scandal.

"This is standard procedure after a governor steps down. Attacks from political enemies always arrive right on schedule."

Tony sighed internally.

He could faintly sense that the shadow hanging over Pittsburgh was growing darker and heavier.

’Maybe mediocre stability is the best we can hope for in this day and age.’

The television screen changed again.

The Pennsylvania State Senate.

Inside the Speaker’s Office, which had been gaudily redecorated by William Saint Cloud.

A man was sitting in the main chair.

He wore a pair of oversized Gucci sunglasses, his hair was salt-and-pepper, and he was dressed in a wrinkled Hawaiian floral shirt.

In his hand, he held a leopard-shaped paperweight, which he was using to tap idly on the desk.

It was an utterly ridiculous scene.

The caption read: The New Governor of Pennsylvania, William Saint Cloud.

The clippers in Tony’s hand stopped abruptly. His jaw dropped.

"What the hell?!"

Tony pointed at the television, his voice trembling.

"Who... Who is that?!"

The customer was also stunned by the image on the screen.

"Isn’t that the lunatic from the assembly who was banging on the desk, saying the color of his tie was important?"

"How did he become governor?!"

Tony felt his mind reeling in confusion.

He had just finished cursing Monroe, and now Monroe was gone.

Now, sitting there was a fool he didn’t even recognize, who looked like he was on vacation in Hawaii.

"Is... Is he an actor?" the customer asked.

"Who cares," Tony said, shaking his head. He picked up his razor and scraped the foam off the customer’s face. "As long as he doesn’t tax me, I’d accept a dog as governor."

A profound sense of absurdity washed over him.

’This world seems to have gone completely beyond my comprehension.’

「Another week passed.」

Tony turned on the TV at the same time every day.

He wanted to see what the hell this new governor was up to.

But on television, Governor William Saint Cloud’s image wasn’t being widely mocked or criticized by the media as he had expected.

The mainstream media strangely maintained a relatively neutral tone in their reporting.

They simply reported objectively on Governor William’s great achievements in promoting the Pennsylvania fashion industry and his innovative initiative to invite Italian designers to Harrisburg for a fashion show at the State Capitol Building.

Even some conservative right-wing media outlets just portrayed him as a "harmless eccentric" or a "political mascot."

"What is he doing?"

Tony watched the news, feeling bewildered.

He thought William would make a complete mess of the State Government.

But he didn’t.

On the contrary, the administrative processes in Harrisburg were running with unprecedented efficiency.

Bills that had been stuck in committee for ages were now being approved one after another, as if on a conveyor belt.

The secretary of the Pennsylvania Department of Community and Economic Development was now on TV every day, publicly praising Governor William as "pragmatic, efficient, and full of vision."

This abnormal calm made Tony feel a deeper sense of unease.

He knew that something unspeakable was hidden beneath the placid surface.

...

「One month later.」

On the television screen, Governor William Saint Cloud stood at the gates of a state prison in Philadelphia.

He was wearing a custom-made pink suit and oversized sunglasses, with dozens of bodyguards behind him.

The prison gates slowly opened.

A young man in an orange prison jumpsuit walked out.

It was Luigi Randall.

He looked thin and frail, but his eyes were clear, and he even wore a faint smile.

Governor William walked forward and shook his hand with a smile.

Then, facing all the cameras, he held a document high in the air.

It was Luigi’s pardon.

"Justice may have been delayed, but it has arrived."

Governor William spoke into the microphone, his tone sincere.

"Mr. Luigi Randall is my friend. He is a victim of this society. He sounded the alarm for all of us. Today, on behalf of the Government of Pennsylvania, I am restoring his freedom."

Luigi walked out of the prison.

He didn’t incite a riot or give a speech.

He simply walked calmly toward the black sedan waiting at the gate.

Inside the car sat Frank Kovalsky and Alina Rodriguez.

He had returned to his friends.

The television screen changed.

The plaza in front of the Harrisburg State Capitol.

The crowds of protesters that had blockaded the area had dispersed.

The streets were once again jammed with traffic.

The traffic of people returning to work, of trucks hauling steel and vegetables, of laborers heading to construction sites.

Tony looked out the window.

He let out a long sigh of relief.

’This goddamned month is finally over.’

He put down his clippers and said to the customer in the mirror, "All right, Old Bob, your haircut is done."

"Thanks, Tony." Old Bob stood up from the chair. "But I can’t help but feel this whole month has been like a dream."

"Yeah," Tony nodded.

He picked up a magazine again, staring at the flashy face of Governor William on the cover.

He didn’t know what was wrong with the world anymore.

He didn’t know who was pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

He didn’t even know who the real winner was.

He only knew one thing.

His shop was still open.

His customers could still come for a haircut.

And his television was still playing news about the revival of Pennsylvania.

That was enough.

"Alright," Tony said, straightening the cape. "So, what kind of cut do you want next time?"