Chapter 702 - 327: The Unstoppable Red Border Line

News is like a soap bubble. It shimmers for a moment in the sun, then bursts with a POP, leaving no trace behind.

The sagas of the "Pittsburgh Drug Supply Crisis" and "Energy Magnates Forcing the White House’s Hand" had once dominated headlines across America. But they quickly vanished from the public eye after the major pharmaceutical giants resumed shipments to Pittsburgh and the White House, however reluctantly, acquiesced to the new status quo.

The media is always bloodthirsty. Once the bloodstains are wiped clean, they immediately turn their cameras to find the next bleeding wound.

The front pages were now occupied by some Hollywood star’s divorce and a hurricane in Florida.

The intense, confrontational tension had subsided.

But for the legal staff in the Government of Pennsylvania’s buildings, the war was just beginning.

In the State Department of Justice offices in Harrisburg, the lights now burned all night long.

Dozens of top lawyers, on loan from the Saint Claude Family, were integrated with the State Government’s legal team, facing a mountain of documents.

They were administrative lawsuits from the Federation.

Although Leo and Vance had reached a sort of tacit understanding to cease extreme attacks like cutting off supplies, the pharmaceutical giants never stopped their legal harassment for a moment. They were determined to make an example of Pennsylvania for the other states.

They had launched hundreds of filings against the Rust Belt Health Trust, including requests for constitutional reviews, antitrust investigations, and accusations of creating interstate trade barriers.

Every day, new subpoenas arrived like snowflakes.

Every day, Pennsylvania had to spend hundreds of thousands of US Dollars in administrative costs to respond to the suits, draft compliance reports hundreds of pages long, and bicker with Washington bureaucrats in hearings.

These exorbitant maintenance costs made the governors of Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, and others—who had been itching to follow the Pittsburgh model and establish their own mutual aid alliances—all pull back.

They didn’t have a financial backer on the level of Evelyn Saint Cloud, nor did they possess the audacity of a Leo Wallace, who dared to poke a hole in the heavens.

They couldn’t afford to play this kind of money-burning legal game.

And so, Pennsylvania became an isolated island.

But it also became the sole beacon.

It was under these circumstances that Leo Wallace was discharged from the hospital.

There were no flowers, no reporters, no cheering crowds.

On a gloomy morning, he left silently through the hospital’s back door. Dressed in a trench coat, his left arm in a sling, he slipped directly into a black, bulletproof Lincoln.

Half an hour later, he appeared in the command center on the top floor of Pittsburgh City Hall.

The place still maintained its wartime state of frantic activity.

Marcus Thorne was sitting at a console, a cup of espresso in his hand. Though he had dark circles under his eyes, his energy was high.

"Welcome back, boss."

Marcus swiveled in his chair and tapped a key on his keyboard.

"I’ve got something good to show you."

A massive LED screen lit up.

It was a digital map of Pennsylvania.

A few months ago, only Pittsburgh and the surrounding Allegany County were colored red on this map.

That was the initial coverage area of the Rust Belt Health Mutual Aid Alliance.

But now, that deep red, the color of the Mutual Aid Alliance, was bleeding out from Pittsburgh, spreading like a fever.

The red flowed west along the Ohio River, covering Beaver County. It climbed east along the Allegheny Mountains, swallowing Westmoreland County. Its tentacles even stretched north, reaching the Lake Erie Shoreline.

"Sixty-five percent coverage."

Marcus pointed to a flickering number in the top-right corner of the screen.

"Aside from a few wealthy counties around Philadelphia and the most stubborn agricultural counties in the central region, most of Western Pennsylvania and the north-central areas are now part of our network."

"The mayors and county heads in those places were hesitant at first, just watching from the sidelines. But ever since you got shot and the drug prices actually dropped, they’ve been lining up to sign contracts with us."

Leo looked at the map.

He didn’t speak. He just walked to the console and traced the red border on the screen with his right hand.

This line was no longer just an administrative border.

It was a border of interests.

Within this border, people were paid in Alliance scrip, used their red Mutual Aid Cards to buy medicine, and worked in factories bearing the Industrial Revival Alliance logo.

Their lives had been completely taken over by the system Leo had built.

"Show me the details,"

Leo said.

...

「Blair County, Altoona City.」

It was a typical small city in central Pennsylvania, once famous for its railroad maintenance shops, now left with decaying streets and an aging population.

This had always been a Republican Party stronghold, where Warren’s approval rating once reached eighty percent.

On the main street downtown, an old-fashioned community pharmacy had hung a striking neon sign by its entrance.

[This Pharmacy Has Joined the Rust Belt Health Mutual Aid Alliance]

[Red Card Holders Enjoy Alliance-Guided Prices]

The sign seemed out of place on the dreary street, yet it was irresistibly alluring.

A long line had formed outside the pharmacy.

The line was filled mostly with senior citizens.

They wore outdated jackets, tightly clutching their red cards.

An argument broke out at the back of the line.

An old man in a flannel shirt, his face flushed red, was waving his arms at the pharmacy clerk.

"Why can he buy it and I can’t?"

The old man pointed to a neighbor who had just walked out with his prescription.

"Daniel and I have been neighbors for thirty years! We both worked for the railroad our whole lives! Why does he only pay thirty-five bucks for this bottle of insulin while you’re charging me three hundred?"

The clerk, a young woman, pointed helplessly at the card scanner.

"Sir, Mr. Daniel has a Mutual Aid Card. He’s a Union member, and his pension account has been transferred to the trust fund in Pittsburgh."

"And you..." The clerk glanced at the regular insurance card in the old man’s hand. "You’re on Federation insurance, and your supplemental plan doesn’t cover this discount. According to our agreement, we can only sell it to you at the original price."

"To hell with the original price!"

The old man furiously threw his hat on the ground.

"This is discrimination! It’s robbery!"

Just then, Daniel, who had just bought his medicine, walked over.

He dangled the pharmacy bag in his hand, a smug look on his face, like he’d just won the lottery.

"Stop shouting, Bill."

Daniel clapped the old man on the shoulder.

"I told you last month. Get your son a job at that new logistics center, or go down to the community center and get your insurance transferred over. You wouldn’t listen. Insisted it was a scam."

"Well, look at you now."

"This ’scam’ just saved me over two hundred bucks."

"How about you?"

With that, Daniel walked off, humming a little tune.

Bill was left standing alone in the wind, staring at the flashing sign and at the people emerging triumphantly with their Red Cards.

The huge disparity made him feel like he’d been left behind.

In this little county, not having that Red Card made you a second-class citizen.

You had to endure exorbitant prices and the constant fear of your prescriptions being cut off.

Bill pulled out his ancient flip phone.

He dialed the office of his district’s state representative.

The moment the call connected, he started roaring.

"This is Bill Hawkins! I’ve voted for you people for twenty years! I donate to your campaign fund every single year!"

"Now you tell me, why can Daniel next door get cheap medicine and I can’t?"

"What the hell are you people doing in Harrisburg?!"

"I don’t care about policy, and I don’t care about parties! If you can’t get me that card by next week, you can kiss my vote goodbye in the next election! I’ll bring my old buddies down there and we’ll tear the door off your office!"

...

"Our expansion into other parts of Pennsylvania is proceeding very quickly now," Ethan explained.

"We just need to plant a flag or two on their turf, open one or two model stores."

"When residents see the tangible difference, when they realize their quality of life can be worlds apart just because of one card."

"Envy and the instinct for survival will drive them to tear into any Politician who stands in the way of them joining the Alliance."

"Right now, in the Republican-controlled counties of central Pennsylvania, the representatives’ phones are ringing off the hook. Voters aren’t listening to any arguments about opposing big government. They just want that Red Card."

"Those county heads can’t take the pressure. They’re contacting us privately, asking about the conditions for joining the Alliance."

Leo nodded, watching the map that was steadily turning red.

’Mr. President,’ Leo thought. ’Are you seeing this?’

’This is more effective than war.’

’War can only destroy walls, but self-interest can pierce the human heart.’

’That’s right, Leo.’

Roosevelt’s voice resounded in his mind.

’This is healthcare annexation.’

’Or, to put it another way, this is new-age territorial expansion.’

’In the past, to occupy a city, you needed to send an army, plant a flag, and appoint a governor.’

’But now, you don’t need any of that.’

’You just need to send over a few pharmacists and put a card reader on the counter.’

’When a city’s residents spend scrip that you issue, take medicine that you negotiated for a low price, and work jobs that you provide the orders for...’

’...the administrative boundaries of that city effectively disappear.’

’The Mayor is still the Mayor, the county head is still the county head, but in terms of the economy and the public’s welfare, they’ve become your subordinates.’

’Their finances depend on you. Their constituents’ support depends on you.’

Roosevelt’s voice carried a hint of admiration.

’As long as this Red Card is in play, as long as that massive price differential exists...’

’...your domain will continue to expand.’

’Until all of Pennsylvania becomes your territory.’

Leo looked at the map.

The red dots of light were like a living virus, devouring the blue of the borders.

"Marcus."

Leo spoke.

"Notify Evelyn. Tell her to set up a few new pharmaceutical supply chains. The current volume isn’t enough."

"Also, tell those county heads lining up to join."

"They can join."

"But they have to accept all our conditions."

"Open up their data, accept our oversight, and..."

Leo’s gaze sharpened.

"Their constituencies must guarantee a certain correct voting rate."

"We won’t force them who to vote for."

"But if the representative they elect doesn’t support our legislation, then we’ll have to regrettably suspend service to their region."

This was blatant political coercion.

But Leo knew they would agree.

Leo looked at his right hand.

Though it was still wrapped in bandages, he felt as if he were holding the very lifeblood of the state.

In the command center, the red on the map continued to spread. Silent and unstoppable.