Chapter 606 - 283: Data Offensive

Early morning. Harrisburg.

Dozens of black sedans were parked by the side entrance of the Parliament Building.

The car doors opened, and a group of men stepped out, carrying briefcases, their leather shoes polished to a mirror shine.

They were K Street’s top-tier lobbyists, the attack dogs that pharmaceutical giants paid a fortune to keep.

They made their way directly into the private offices of the representatives.

This was a traditional ground offensive.

The door to Representative Jason Smith’s office was shut tight.

Smith sat in his leather chair, looking at the smiling lobbyist across from him.

The lobbyist’s name was Michael. The two were old acquaintances and often played golf together at a country club in Washington.

Michael pushed an envelope across the desk to Smith.

The envelope was thin and unsealed. If Smith glanced down, he could see the corner of the check inside.

The number on it was fifty thousand dollars.

"Jason, we’re old friends," Michael said, his voice smooth and rich. "You know as well as I do that this so-called ’Transparency Act’ is complete nonsense. If it passes, the entire health insurance market in Pennsylvania will collapse. And it’s the common people who’ll suffer in the end."

Smith stared at the check.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

It was an election year, and his campaign account was still empty.

This money could help him print a hundred thousand flyers or buy a few prime-time ad slots.

"Michael, you see the situation," Smith said, his voice a little dry. "Public opinion is brutal right now. Leo Wallace has turned that Mutual Aid Alliance into a religion. If I vote no, my constituents will tear me apart."

"Public opinion is temporary, Jason."

Michael pulled another document from his briefcase and placed it on top of the check.

"This is a research report we prepared for you on market freedom and the quality of healthcare. You can quote it directly at the hearing."

"Also, this money isn’t for you. It’s a donation to the Future Education Foundation under your name. It’s a legal political contribution, for the children’s education."

Smith’s fingers twitched.

It was clean money.

All he had to do was press the red button on the voting machine, or simply take a trip to the restroom at the critical moment, and the money would be his.

He looked at Michael’s confident face.

The man across from him represented the unshakeable power of capital in this country.

Leo Wallace might be making a lot of noise right now, but the young man couldn’t win against these behemoths.

Smith reached out and placed his hand on the envelope.

"Alright," Smith said in a low voice. "I’ll look into the issue of procedural compliance. Perhaps we need more time to deliberate on this bill."

A satisfied smile spread across Michael’s face.

He knew that in a politician’s dictionary, "I’ll consider it" meant "It’s a deal."

...

Pittsburgh. The Media and Public Opinion Control Center.

Sarah Jenkins stood at the center of the command console.

On the massive LED screen wall in front of her, a complex, dynamic data model was displayed.

It was a seat distribution map for the Pennsylvania House of Representatives.

Two hundred and three dots represented the two hundred and three representatives.

Some of the dots were green, representing "Aye" votes.

A smaller number were red, representing "Nay" votes.

And several dozen were yellow, representing "Swing" votes.

"District 45, Jason Smith."

A data analyst beside her suddenly shouted.

"His status has changed. Based on reports from our sources in Harrisburg, plus an article about protecting market freedom he just liked on X, the system has determined his pressure index is dropping and his opportunism index is rising."

Sarah glanced at the screen.

The dot representing Smith had changed from yellow to a glaring orange.

"He took the money."

Sarah said coldly.

She knew these politicians all too well.

With public opinion this turbulent, for a representative from a swing district to suddenly start talking about "market freedom," there could only be one reason: someone had given him a bargaining chip big enough to ignore the will of the people.

"The K Street people move fast," Sarah said, watching the orange dot. "They’re trying to tear this wall down with money."

"Director, should we expose him?" the analyst asked. "We have records of his previous donations from pharmaceutical companies."

"No."

Sarah shook her head.

"Exposing him is too slow. By the time the news cycle picks it up, the check will have already been cashed. Besides, he can claim it was a legal political donation."

"We need to hit him with something more direct."

Sarah walked to the console, her fingers swiping across the touchscreen.

She pulled up the demographic profile for District 45.

The district was located in the northern suburbs of Philadelphia, a typical middle-class community inhabited by a large number of young families and stay-at-home mothers.

"Filter target users."

Sarah issued the command.

"Age 25 to 45, female, married, with children, active users who have searched for keywords like ’pediatrics,’ ’asthma,’ or ’vaccines’ on social media in the past six months."

The numbers on the screen flashed rapidly before finally settling on: 12,450 people.

This was Representative Smith’s core voter base.

These angry suburban moms held the key to his reelection.

"Initiate Plan C."

There wasn’t a trace of emotion in Sarah’s voice.

"Generating push content..."

A pre-written short text appeared on the screen, accompanied by a highly impactful image.

The image was a pharmacy bill showing the price of a child’s asthma inhaler: 350 US Dollars. Next to it was a bill from the Pittsburgh Mutual Aid Pharmacy: 35 US Dollars.

The accompanying text was simple and brutal:

[BREAKING NEWS: Moments ago, your district’s representative, Jason Smith, began considering a vote to repeal the Fair Drugs Act.]

[This means that in the future, you will have to pay $350 for your child’s asthma medication, not $35.]

[He is taking your child’s life-saving money.]

[Call his office now. Ask him: how many children’s lives is that check worth?]

Below was the direct phone number for Smith’s office, as well as his personal social media accounts.

"Send."

Sarah pressed the red confirmation button.

The data stream shot out of Pittsburgh along fiber-optic cables, crossed hundreds of kilometers, and precisely drilled its way into the phones of more than twelve thousand mothers.

...

Harrisburg. Representative Smith’s office.

Michael was just about to get up and leave.

The deal was done, and he had to rush to his next appointment.

Today, there were a dozen more swing representatives like Smith waiting for him to persuade.

"Well then, a pleasure doing business with you," Michael said, extending his hand.

"A pleasure."

Smith had a relaxed smile on his face; the check was already resting safely in his pocket.

"RRRRING—!!!"

The red telephone on his desk suddenly began to ring.

The sound was sharp and piercing, making both men jump in the quiet office.

Smith frowned.

He reached for the receiver.

"Hello, this is Jason Smith—"

"You murderer!"

A woman’s hysterical scream came from the other end of the line.

"How dare you! How dare you sacrifice my son’s medicine for those damned drug companies! I must have been blind to vote for you! You liar! I’m going to come to your house and spit in your face!"

Smith was stunned.

Before he could say a word, a clamor of ringing phones suddenly erupted from the secretary’s office outside.

It wasn’t just one phone.

It was all of them.

Five office phones exploded with sound at once, the ringing weaving together into a heart-pounding wave of noise.

His secretary burst through the door, face pale, clutching a phone receiver with a terrified expression.

"Representative! The phones... the phones are blowing up!"

"It’s all mothers from the district! They’re saying if you dare to vote no, they’ll organize a recall committee!"

"And X!" The secretary handed Smith a tablet. "Your personal account has over two thousand new comments in the last minute! They’re all... they’re all cursing you out!"

Smith took the tablet.

The screen was filled with the comparison image of the pharmacy bills.

It was filled with angry mothers.

"Smith took dirty money!"

"He doesn’t deserve to be a father!"

"Get him out of Harrisburg!"

Smith looked at Michael.

The smile on Michael’s face had vanished, replaced by surprise and gravity.

"What... what is happening?" Smith’s voice was weak. "How do they know? We just finished talking! All I did was casually like a post while scrolling on my phone..."

The phones were still ringing, one after another, without end.

Smith touched the envelope in his pocket.

The check that had felt as light as a feather a moment ago was now scalding hot, like a red-hot branding iron searing his skin.

Fifty thousand US Dollars.

It was certainly a lot of money.

But compared to more than ten thousand angry mothers, compared to the kind of fury that could end his political career in an instant, this money was far too little.

He might get the money tomorrow, but he would suffer a brutal defeat in the next election.

Smith pulled the envelope from his pocket.

He placed it on the desk and pushed it back toward Michael.

"Take it."

Smith’s voice trembled, but it was exceptionally firm.

"Take your money."

"Jason, don’t be rash..." Michael tried to salvage the situation.

"Get out!"

Smith roared, pointing at the door.

"Take your money and get out! I’m done!"

"Now! Immediately! Get out!"

Michael looked at the hysterical Smith and sighed.

He picked up the envelope, straightened his suit, and walked out with a look of resignation.

He knew this wasn’t just Smith’s breakdown.

Any of the representatives he visited today would make the same choice as soon as they received that damned push notification.

In the face of survival, even greed has to take a backseat.

...

Pittsburgh. The Media Center.

Sarah watched the large screen.

The dot representing Smith’s district, after a brief orange flicker, had returned to a stable green.

And in the next ten minutes, several other surrounding yellow dots, which had been wavering, turned green one after another.

The entire map of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives was turning into a sea of green.

It was the color of compliance.

"Pressure index is dropping," the analyst reported. "The target representative’s position has been corrected."

Sarah picked up her coffee and took a sip.

"Money can indeed buy lobbyists," Sarah said softly.

"Money can also buy a conscience."

"But money can’t buy you quiet."

She pointed to the frantically increasing call logs on the screen.

"I want them to know that if they dare to waver, if they dare to betray us."

"They’ll hear their constituents’ curses even when they’re taking a piss."