Chapter 603 - 281: Jealousy Outside the Wall

"Look at how the people in Pittsburgh are living, and then look at us. What are our representatives doing? Did our tax money all go to the dogs? Why is Wallace the only one who gives a damn about the common people?"

He clicked send.

That spark landed in a tinderbox of public opinion.

「One week later.」

This sentiment spread like a virus, traveling down the highways to every corner of Pennsylvania.

The spectacle of pharmacy queues in Pittsburgh became the hottest topic in the entire state.

All discussions centered on a small, red card.

It was a ticket to survival, a symbol that separated the "lucky ones" from the "outcasts."

In Montgomery County, on the west side of Philadelphia.

The atmosphere at a routine community parent council meeting was explosive.

"Did you see this? My cousin sent me her bill."

A young mother took out her phone, displaying a photo from Pittsburgh.

The photo showed a pharmacy receipt, clearly printed with: Amoxicillin, copay $3.50.

"At CVS, this thing costs me ten bucks!"

The mother’s voice shot up an octave.

"My cousin lives in the Pittsburgh South District. That’s a slum! She never even went to college! But now she’s getting better healthcare than me!"

"I pay my taxes, I work, I donate to representatives. And for what? I have to pinch pennies just to buy an inhaler for my kid, while those workers in Pittsburgh are buying medicine like they’re grocery shopping!"

Another father angrily slammed his coffee cup on the table.

"I called our state representative, and guess what that bastard said?"

"He said it’s unsustainable populism, that it’s destroying the market economy."

"To hell with the market economy!"

the father roared.

"All I know is, people in Pittsburgh are living with more dignity than we are! That Leo Wallace, I don’t care if he’s a madman or a con man, at least he actually brought the drug prices down!"

"Why don’t we have that?"

This question hovered like a ghost over the wealthy districts of Philadelphia, the factories of Erie, and the farms of Scranton.

Jealousy.

It is a driving force more primal, more powerful, and more destructive than any sense of justice.

When people see their neighbor’s table laden with a feast while they can only gnaw on dry bread, they don’t question whether the feast was legally obtained. They only hate the parent who failed to put meat on their table.

Social media exploded.

On X, the hashtag #IWantARedCardToo shot to the top of Pennsylvania’s trending list.

Countless people from outside the city flooded Leo Wallace’s personal page, the comments section filled with pleas, curses, and demands.

"Mayor Wallace, I’m begging you, open up registration! I’m willing to pay double the membership fee!"

"This is geographical discrimination! This is dividing the people of Pennsylvania into different classes!"

"Are those bigwigs in Harrisburg all dead? Look at what Pittsburgh is doing!"

This sentiment quickly transformed into an assault on the existing system.

Sitting in his office, State Senator Selas Thorne felt like his head was about to explode. He stared at the incessantly ringing phone on his desk, his eyes filled with anger and helplessness.

Thorne was a veteran senator. He had been in Harrisburg for fifteen years and thought he had seen every form of political blackmail from the public, but he had never witnessed this kind of near-maniacal mass hysteria.

"Dammit, tell them we don’t even have the bill!"

Thorne roared at the aide who had burst into his office. He was so agitated his tie was askew.

The aide, looking troubled, clutched a stack of call logs. His voice was hoarse from explaining over and over. "Senator, I’ve told them. I’ve explained it to every single voter who called."

"I told them that Mayor Leo Wallace never even submitted the draft bill to the legislature. We currently have no text to discuss, let alone vote on or obstruct."

"But they just won’t listen." The aide’s eyes were filled with despair. "They think we’re lying."

"One voter even called me a lapdog for the pharmaceutical companies over the phone. They say the bill is for the people of the whole state, so it should pass without a hitch. The fact that there’s no movement must mean that you senators are pulling strings behind the scenes."

This was the most terrifying part of Leo’s plan.

He used the pilot program in Pittsburgh to create a massive privilege gap, sparking a morbid jealousy in the voters outside the walls. Then he deliberately held back the bill, allowing the flames of this jealousy to burn uncontrollably in a vacuum.

There was no bill in Harrisburg at all, but that didn’t stop voters from attacking the senators based on their own imagination.

Thorne knew perfectly well that all Leo had to do was call his puppet, Governor William, and have William find a compliant legislator to introduce the bill. The whole process could be done in minutes.

But Leo deliberately refused to do it. He wanted to see the senators roasted alive by the angry voters.

The senators couldn’t possibly explain the lag in the legislative process in detail to every single person who called, much less tell them it was actually a strategic move by Leo to withhold the bill.

The people didn’t need facts. They just needed to vent their emotions.

This sentiment spread through every county in Pennsylvania, evolving into an extremely complex social psychosis.

Supporters thought the senators were corrupt. Neutrals thought they were derelict in their duty. Even some conservative voters, after seeing a neighbor buy a specialty drug for thirty-five dollars that originally cost three hundred, started cursing out the senators they had supported for over a decade.