Chapter 731: I Am the Future You Want

Chapter 731: Chapter 341: I Am the Future You Want

Gary took a step forward.

He pulled a statement from his suit pocket and placed it on Sanders’s desk.

“Senator, we’ve decided to support the plan to restart the Three Mile Island Nuclear Power Plant in Pennsylvania. We will also support the accompanying federal loan guarantee bill.”

Sanders’s head snapped up. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Are you insane?” Sanders raised his voice. “For the past few years, you’ve fought alongside me, staunchly opposing nuclear expansion. You know the dangers of nuclear waste.”

“We do,” Thomas interjected, his tone unnervingly calm. “But we’re even more aware of the unemployment rate in our own districts.”

“Mayor Wallace provided us with an extremely detailed procurement plan.”

“The Industrial Revival Alliance will prioritize purchasing agricultural products and basic industrial equipment from our three districts. This will create jobs for twenty thousand local people.”

“He also gave you campaign funds,” Sanders said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

Matthew didn’t deny it.

“The primary is just around the corner. We need money to keep our campaign teams running, money to air TV ads. The Super PAC behind Mayor Wallace has promised to provide us with ample firepower.”

“If we refuse this deal, we’ll be knocked out of the election by the far-left or the Republicans.”

“You’ve sold the soul of the Progressives for money and votes!” Sanders slammed his hand on the desk, seething with anger. “You’re surrendering to capital!”

“We’re doing this to survive!” Gary retorted just as loudly. “Senator, you can sit in your Senate seat and talk about lofty environmental ideals. Your term lasts for six years, but our time is running out.”

“If we lose the election and our seats in Congress, all these ideals we talk about will be nothing but empty talk.”

“Mayor Wallace’s plan really does provide carbon-free electricity and saves workers’ jobs. It’s completely logical, and the voters will accept that explanation.”

Sanders looked at his three former comrades-in-arms and suddenly felt a profound sense of powerlessness.

Politics is the art of compromise and survival.

Leo Wallace, with the simplest, most brutal allocation of resources, had easily shattered the ideological alliance Sanders had spent decades building.

“What about the other members?” Sanders asked in a low voice, though he already suspected the answer.

“More than half of the pragmatic members have already signed a joint letter supporting the nuclear power project,” Matthew replied. “Everyone is thinking about their own reelection.”

“Mayor Wallace controls the most influential industrial revival narrative right now. Following his lead brings tangible benefits.”

After speaking, the three of them turned and left the office.

The door closed.

Sanders sat alone in his office.

The room was terrifyingly quiet. He turned on the television, trying to fill the space with some noise.

On the screen was a replay of a televised address by Thomas.

The man who had once been a vanguard of environmentalism, crying out at climate summits, was now dressed in a sharp suit, announcing his support for restarting the Pennsylvania nuclear power plant to a national audience.

Matthew had posted a long article on X.

He defined nuclear energy as the only realistic path to a zero-carbon transition, and at the end of the article, he emphatically stressed that the nuclear project would bring tens of thousands of high-paying union jobs to the Midwest.

Switching to a news channel, the anchor was reporting on a sudden turn of events in the New York Bronx District election.

Progressive congresswoman Alexandra was facing a powerful primary challenger.

Richard Gibson, an exceedingly ordinary local union president, had suddenly received an official endorsement from the National Power Union.

Millions of US Dollars in campaign funds poured into Richard Gibson’s Super PAC account.

Fox News and CNN were running back-to-back attack ads against Alexandra.

On screen, construction workers accused her of taking away people’s job opportunities.

The television networks had completely cut off her avenues for rebuttal. The countdown on her political career had begun.

Sanders picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

The office door was pushed open. There was no knock.

Leo Wallace strode in.

He wore a dark suit, his stride steady, exuding an absolute, oppressive aura of someone in complete control.

Sanders froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected Leo to barge into his office like this.

Before he could even speak to question this disrespectful behavior, a towering rage overwhelmed all sense of procedure and etiquette.

Sanders shot up from behind his desk, slamming both hands down on its surface.

“Leo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The old man’s roar echoed through the room.

“You’re using dark money to purge your own comrades! Using political intimidation to force them into submission! You’ve turned the National Power Union into your personal enforcers! You’re destroying the entire Progressive caucus!”

Leo walked up to the desk.

“Daniel, I’m not destroying it.”

Leo said slowly, “I’m rebuilding it.”

Sanders’s eyes widened, his breathing growing rapid.

He stared intently at the young man before him.

“What was the Progressive movement of the past?” Leo looked directly into Sanders’s eyes. “It was a debating society made up of college students from their ivory towers, environmental fanatics, and latte-sipping liberals.”

“You people spend your days complaining on X, holding protest signs on campus quads, and discussing the melting of arctic glaciers in fancy restaurants on Capitol Hill.”

Leo stood up straight.