Chapter 601 - 280: Regional Privilege

The doors of the Steelworker Movement Hall stood wide open, with hundreds of folding chairs crammed into the limited space.

Leo Wallace stood on the low, makeshift stage.

The space below the stage was packed with people.

Frank Kovalsky, wearing his signature Union jacket, sat in the front row.

Behind him were dozens of steelworkers, these rugged men now sitting ramrod straight, their expressions solemn.

Alina Rodriguez stood in the aisle with her students, their young faces filled with fervent anticipation.

Also present were the family members who had once wept outside the courthouse.

They clutched the Mutual Aid Cards they had received, their eyes fixed on Leo.

Leo wore a simple white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button undone.

Evelyn Saint Cloud stood in the shadows backstage, dressed in a black trench coat, toying with a stiff red card in her hand.

She watched Leo on the stage, a playful smile on her lips.

Leo scanned the crowd and raised his right hand.

Between his index and middle fingers, he held a deep red card.

"Citizens."

Leo’s voice crackled through the somewhat staticky sound system.

"I believe many of you are holding one of these right now."

A rustling sound went through the audience.

People began pulling the Red Cards from their pockets and wallets, holding them up.

A red tide surged through the small hall.

"This is the Rust Belt Health Mutual Aid Card."

Leo’s voice grew firm.

"From this day forward, this card will be more useful than all the credit cards in your wallet, more useful than any policy an insurance salesman could push on you."

Leo took a small medicine bottle from his pocket.

It was an ordinary vial of insulin.

"In this city."

Leo pointed to the vial.

"As long as you hold this Red Card, this vial of life-saving medicine will cost you just thirty-five US Dollars."

A wave of stifled gasps erupted from the crowd.

Thirty-five US Dollars.

For many families who relied on insulin long-term but couldn’t afford health insurance, this was a number that bordered on fantasy.

Leo’s hand pointed toward the window, toward the unseen city limits.

"But on the other side of that city line, in Philadelphia, in places without the Mutual Aid Alliance."

"The exact same medicine, the same dosage, the same brand."

"It costs three hundred US Dollars."

"Or even more."

The gasps from the audience turned into an angry buzz.

Leo didn’t lower the hand holding the vial.

He looked at the angry faces below, his voice suddenly growing heavy.

"I know some people will say this is impossible, that it violates the laws of the market."

"They’ll ask: On what grounds? Why should Philadelphians pay three hundred US Dollars for medicine while you people in Pittsburgh only pay thirty-five? What makes you people in Pittsburgh so special?"

Leo’s voice carried a tone of righteous arrogance.

"My answer is simple."

"Because we are united."

Leo held up the Red Card in his hand.

"While Philadelphians are still scattered and disorganized, getting picked off one by one by the insurance companies, we, the three hundred thousand citizens of Pittsburgh, have banded together as one."

"With this card, we’ve pooled all our purchasing power together."

"We’re no longer individual consumers. We are a massive purchasing group."

Leo wasn’t lying. The Mutual Aid Alliance was indeed a purchasing group.

But he had selectively concealed a key fact: the price had been pushed this low not because of successful negotiations, but because City Hall was subsidizing it with massive amounts of public funds.

This was an information gap.

He only told half the truth, but it was enough for the people below to fill in the other half with the heroic tale they wanted to hear.

This is the rhetoric of a Politician.

You only need to present facts selectively and guide your audience to the conclusion you desire.

Say some things, leave others unsaid, and use silence to fill the logical gaps.

It’s more sophisticated than an outright lie and much harder to refute.

Listening to a Politician is exhausting because you constantly have to distinguish between what they say and what they intentionally leave out.

"This is the power of unity."

Leo took a step forward, nearly to the edge of the stage.

"We are fighting against the entire medical-capital system in the United States. We are fighting against the giants who control the prices."

"This is a gamble."

Leo took a step forward, nearly to the edge of the stage.

"But why am I doing this?"

"Because this is our privilege."

"In this country, the rich have their privileges. They have private doctors, the best insurance, and helicopters to fly them to the Mayo Clinic."

"Politicians have their privileges. They have publicly funded healthcare and special, expedited access."

"And what about us?"

"Those of us who sweat in factories, carry plates in restaurants, and haul bricks on construction sites—what do we have?"

"We only have waiting. Waiting for denial letters, waiting for bills, waiting for death."

Leo’s voice became passionate, full of incitement.

"So I decided that we must create a privilege of our own."

"This isn’t a privilege born from charity. It’s one we seized for ourselves."

"We used our unity, our votes, our loyalty to this city, to get this Red Card in return."

"This card means that in Pittsburgh, life is no longer a commodity with a price tag."

"It means that as long as you are one of us, as long as you live on this land, you have the right to live."

"This is a wall we have built for ourselves with our own blood, sweat, and courage."

"Outside this wall is the cold, man-eating old world."

"And inside, is our own home."

Leo pressed the Red Card to his chest, his eyes blazing with fervor.

"They will attack us, they will mock us, they might even try to destroy us."

"But as long as we stand together, as long as we hold this card tight."

"We will tell them: This is Pittsburgh! Here, we make our own rules!"

"This is our moment of privilege!"

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

The workers waved their Red Cards as if they were victory banners.

They didn’t know about the financial black hole behind it all.

They only knew that starting today, their medicine was cheaper.

They only knew that their Mayor had truly delivered on his promise.

Leo stood on the stage, basking in the cheers.

But he knew it wasn’t enough.

Just being cheaper wasn’t enough.

He needed to give this benefit a deeper meaning.

A political meaning that would make these people follow him with unwavering loyalty.

Leo raised his hand, and the applause gradually died down.

"I know some people will ask."

Leo’s voice dropped, becoming low and sincere.

"Someone will ask: Mr. Mayor, this is a good thing. Why can’t everyone in Pennsylvania, all the suffering people, use this card?"

"I want that, too."

Leo sighed, a look of helplessness and sorrowful indignation on his face.

"More than anyone, I want to extend this benefit to the entire state."

"But those bigwigs in Harrisburg, they don’t agree."

Leo’s finger pointed in the direction of the state capital.

"They sit in their spacious offices, enjoying the best health insurance and drinking the most expensive red wine."

"They look at our mutual aid plan, furrow their brows, and say: Oh, this is too radical. It doesn’t follow market principles. This is destroying the economy."

"They say we’re conducting an experiment."

"They say we’re just messing around."

A chorus of boos rose from the crowd.

"To hell with market principles!" Frank roared from the audience.

"Yeah! To hell with ’em!"

More people started shouting along.

Leo nodded in agreement.

"That’s right."

"In their eyes, protecting the profits of insurance companies is more important than protecting your lives."

"They would rather watch you be unable to afford medicine than offend the pharmaceutical companies that donate to their campaigns."

"So, they keep delaying the approval of our bill. They want to trap us here to die."

Leo’s voice suddenly rose in pitch.

"Fine!"

"If they don’t want to do it, then we’ll do it ourselves!"

"If they won’t give the people of this state a chance to live, then we’ll look after ourselves first!"

Leo raised the Red Card.

"I’m telling you."

"This card is our privilege."

"This is a benefit for the people of Pittsburgh!"

"Only those who live in this city, only those who have joined our Mutual Aid Alliance, are qualified to enjoy this price!"

"This is what we’ve earned with our unity, with our struggle, with our own two hands!"

"This card belongs only to you!"

"It belongs only to Pittsburgh!"

The entire hall exploded.

A potent sense of regional superiority swelled in everyone’s heart.

They looked at the Red Cards in their hands.

It was no longer a simple discount card; it was proof of their identity.

It proved they were special, that they were protected, that they were superior to others.

While Philadelphians were still worrying about medical bills in the thousands, they only needed to shell out a few dozen dollars.

This contrast, this thrill of "we have it and you don’t," is humanity’s most primal stimulant.

Leo had succeeded.

He hadn’t just bound these people to him with benefits; he had used this narrative of privilege to forge a powerful sense of internal cohesion.

Offstage.

Evelyn stood behind the scenes, watching it all unfold.

She listened to the frenzied shouts, watching the faces flushed with the excitement of having a privilege.

’Is this what you wanted?’

’Yes.’

As if hearing her thoughts, Leo’s gaze cut through the crowd and met hers.

’This is what I want.’

Leo stood on the stage, looking at his fanatical believers.

He was well aware of the dangers of this narrative.

He was consciously creating a rift, but deep in his mind, this narrative had strictly controlled boundaries.

What he wanted to create was never hatred between the people of Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, but rather the conflict between classes.

The current "Pittsburgh privilege" was just a pilot program he had constructed.

He wanted to turn Pittsburgh into a hedgehog covered in sharp spines.

Only then would outside predators have no way to attack, and his followers within would develop an almost fanatical loyalty.

As long as he could secure this base, as long as he could prove to the outside world that this system could truly let the poor live like human beings, he would continuously expand this privilege in the time to come.

He would gradually pull every steel town, every forgotten coal-mining district, into this red defensive circle.

It was a dynamic process of integration.

He would constantly turn outsiders into insiders.

As long as he always united the vast majority who truly deserved to be united, this opposition would not slide into blind regional xenophobia.

It would only evolve into an all-out siege against the medical-capital system.

’Enjoy your privilege, Pittsburgh. It’s what you deserve.’

He waved, then turned and walked off the stage.

Behind him, the cheers echoed on, long and unabated.