Chapter 615 - 291: Flock of Sheep

In the Harrisburg State Capitol Building, the door to the Acting President of the Senate’s office was shut tight.

Robert Kaufman sat behind his enormous desk. The first thing he did upon returning to the office was to tear out all of William’s previous renovations and replace them with a more stately design.

In the stately office, his fingers drummed on the desk, producing a dull thud.

Sitting across from him was Vincent Reynolds.

He was the managing partner of the top K Street lobbying firm, Smith-Grant, and the special envoy to Pennsylvania for the National Association of Pharmacy Benefit Managers.

"Vincent."

Kaufman stopped drumming and lowered his voice.

"I know we’ve stalled that bill in committee. The chairman of the Health Committee is an old friend of mine. As long as I don’t give the nod, that bill will rot in his drawer."

Kaufman’s brow furrowed deeply.

"But something’s not right."

"That madman, Leo Wallace, hasn’t backed down just because the bill was stalled. On the contrary, he’s escalating the war."

Kaufman picked up an election analysis report from his desk and pushed it in front of Vincent.

"Look at this."

"He’s running so-called ’Health Justice candidates’ in many Republican senators’ districts. They’re all radicals he’s cultivated in Pittsburgh, some are even agitators from the unions."

"Their goal is to compete in this year’s Senate elections. This is political blackmail."

A hint of anxiety crept into Kaufman’s voice.

"Their slogan is simple: ’Change your senator, or no cheap medicine.’ They’re handing out flyers in the community, giving speeches outside churches, and telling voters that we’re the ones blocking the drop in insulin prices."

"A few of my colleagues are getting scared."

"Last night, one of them even called me, asking if we could give a little ground—maybe push through an amendment, anything to show the voters we’re doing something."

Kaufman stared at Vincent.

"If this sentiment continues to spread, we could lose our majority in the Senate in this year’s election."

"Then, not only will the bill pass, but I’ll be out on my ass too."

Vincent listened to Kaufman’s complaints, his face fixed in a polite yet distant smile.

He picked up the report but didn’t open it, merely glancing at the red warning marks on the cover.

"Mr. President."

Vincent took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed the corner of his mouth.

"You’ve been in Harrisburg for too long," Vincent said, his voice soft.

"You’re taking that little Mayor from Pittsburgh too seriously, and you think far too highly of the voters."

"What do you mean?" Kaufman asked, displeased.

"What do you think voters care about? The truth? Justice? Or a price difference of a few dozen US Dollars for their medication?"

Vincent stood up, walked to the office window, and looked down at the empty street below.

"No."

"They don’t care about any of it, because they don’t understand any of it."

Vincent turned, leaning back against the window. The backlighting turned him into a black silhouette.

"What do citizens know? They’re sheep."

"A flock that only knows to lower its head and graze, scattering at the sound of thunder and lining up obediently at the sight of a sheepdog."

"They follow whoever has the loudest voice. Whoever can create fear is their master."

Vincent walked up to Kaufman, leaned forward with his hands on the desk, and looked directly at the man who held immense legislative power.

"What’s Leo Wallace’s strategy? Speeches? Yelling a few times in a public square? The tens of thousands of flyers he printed?"

"It’s too primitive."

Vincent let out a scoff.

"That’s a 19th-century playbook. In this day and age, those tactics are like bringing a spear to a machine gun fight."

"We have money."

"We have an advertising budget of tens of millions of US Dollars, and that’s just the first phase. If necessary, I can get another hundred million from Washington."

Vincent extended a finger and drew a circle in the air.

"We’re going to buy all the prime-time TV slots in Pennsylvania, every roadside billboard, and the top ad placements on Facebook and YouTube."

"We are going to redefine Leo Wallace."

"We’ll attack his character. We’ll attack his motives."

"We will paint him as a tyrant who wants to strip you of your right to choose."

Vincent’s voice turned chilling.

"Picture this."

"The TV shows a scene in dark, somber tones, with unsettling music playing in the background."

"A voiceover tells the voters: ’Leo Wallace wants to control your medicine cabinet. He wants to decide what medicine you take. He wants to create a healthcare rationing system.’"

"’If you get cancer, you won’t be able to see the best doctors in Philadelphia. You’ll be forced to wait in line at a crowded mutual aid center in Pittsburgh, where a bunch of unlicensed practitioners will prescribe you low-quality drugs.’"

"’He is taking away your freedom.’"

Kaufman was stunned for a moment.

It was a completely different narrative.

It sidestepped the issue of price and went straight for the most sensitive nerve in the American psyche: freedom.

"And there’s more."

Vincent continued to up the ante.

"We’ll tell the voters that cheap medicine is a trap."

"We’ll get a few medical experts on TV, have them hold up a medicine bottle from Pittsburgh, and have them shake their heads and sigh for the camera."

"They’ll say: ’These drugs are from an unknown source. They might be low-quality generics smuggled from India or Mexico. They’re cheap, but their impurity levels are too high. Long-term use will lead to liver and kidney failure.’"

"’They’ll kill you.’"

Vincent stared into Kaufman’s eyes.

"Mr. President, do you think a mother who hears that will still be envious of that Red Card from Pittsburgh?"

"She won’t."

"She’ll be terrified. She’ll throw the flyer in her hand into the trash and hold her child tight."

"She’ll think that even though her current medicine is a bit expensive, at least it’s safe. At least it’s made in the United States."

Kaufman fell silent.

He had to admit, this line of reasoning was undeniably effective.

For voters, safety would always be more important than price.

’Is medicine that could kill you still medicine?’

’As long as we can convince them that cheap equals shoddy, Leo’s moral high ground will instantly collapse.’

"By the time November rolls around, those common people will be scared out of their wits."

"They’ll be completely brainwashed by the fear we bombard them with on TV."

"They’ll see Leo Wallace as a dangerous radical, a madman who’s going to get them killed."

"Then, they’ll obediently cast their votes for your people, for the Republican Party, seeking a sense of security."

"They don’t have the ability to think for themselves," Vincent said coldly.

"They only have the instinct to be manipulated."

"As long as we control the megaphones, as long as we make enough noise, they’ll dance to our tune."

"That’s the truth of democracy, Robert."

Vincent changed his form of address, a move to close the distance between them.

"Don’t let a few insignificant clowns scare you. They only have torches, but we have fire extinguishers—and a flood."

"You only need to do one thing."

"Guard the gates of the Senate. Don’t let that damn bill get out."

"Leave the rest to us."

"We’ll make Leo Wallace’s reputation stink worse than a sewer rat. When the election is over, he won’t even be able to hold onto his position as Mayor of Pittsburgh."

Kaufman leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

He looked at the lobbyist from Washington before him.

He saw arrogance, he saw greed, and he also saw power.

The power of capital.

’Leo Wallace was certainly formidable. He could mobilize tens of thousands to take to the streets, and he could win over the House of Representatives. But in the face of an ad blitz worth tens of millions of US Dollars, in the face of that kind of statewide fear-mongering, so-called public opinion could be flipped on a whim.’

"Alright."

Kaufman nodded.

"I’ll inform the committee chairman. Have him schedule the hearing for next year, or just call a technical recess."

"As long as you can guarantee I won’t get burned in my own district."

"Don’t worry," Vincent said.

"Your district will be the safest fortress. We’ll allocate double the advertising resources there."

"Besides, the next political contribution is already on its way. The amount will be to your satisfaction."

Kaufman broke into a smile.

He picked up the teacup on his desk—a prop he used just for show.

"To the free market," Kaufman said.

"To the foolish flock," Vincent said.