America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Chapter 116 Taxpayers' Money!

At that moment, at the other end of the corridor, Harris Crane was also making preparations.

He stood by the window, his back to the people in the room. Sarah Wayne and Robert Keane sat on the sofa, a few documents casually spread out on the table.

"Senator," Sarah said, "let's finalize the points of the debate. First, attacking his policies is not feasible."

For example, with labor training centers, we need to ask where the funding will come from? With a data tax, we need to ask whether small and medium-sized technology companies will relocate. With electoral reform, we need to attack which party will support it.

Kran did not turn back.

"Secondly, they attack his identity," Sarah continued. "He has no governing experience, has never held any public office, and has never served a single day in government. He's just an actor, someone who reads lines written by others on television. What makes voters believe he can govern?"

"Third, the Avalon Foundation," Sarah paused, "we need to be careful with this. We can only say that he knows the inside story but isn't disclosing it," we mustn't let him lead us into a debate about the specific details.

Crane finally turned around.

“Don’t forget his community forums,” Crane said. “Watts District, Bakersfield—oh well! Whatever! His team edits them into videos and puts them online, pretending he really cares about those people.”

"Do you know whose constituency he is? Mine. He was in my constituency, talking to my constituents, caring about their lives," Crane said coldly. "And then? Then he left. Will he come back? Will he remember their names?"

Robert Keane cautiously began, "Senator, we all know this is just a campaign tactic. He can't really solve everyone's problems."

Anyway, once the election is over, nobody will remember any of this.

“I know,” Crane said dismissively, “but the voters don’t. They only see people asking them questions and people listening to them. I never do that kind of public, deceiving-the-masses work. I just work hard and don’t care if people remember me.”

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Sarah said softly, "Senator, this isn't your fault—"

"That's enough," Crane interrupted her.

He looked out the window again, not thinking there was anything wrong with what he had said.

Just then, a commotion arose outside the door.

Footsteps, voices, someone running.

The door was pushed open, and Crane's assistant poked his head in, his face somewhat pale: "Senator, Sean Penn is here."

"7

"Oh." Crane's voice was devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

He's nothing but a clown.

"And—Thomas Wilder has arrived."

Crane's shoulders stiffened slightly.

He quickly turned around and stared at the door of the temporary office.

Ten minutes later.

The auditorium was packed with people.

The media in the front row had set up their cameras in the aisle, and the lights made the podium look like a movie set. Behind them were Bakersfield residents, including supporters of both sides, as well as some academics and students.

Sean stood on the side stage, looking out through the gap in the curtain.

He saw Professor Greenberg of the Green Party, whom he had seen in a photo provided by Matthew; the man was sitting in the seventh row and talking to the person next to him.

He also saw several familiar media faces: a CNN host, a Fox News commentator, and a reporter from the Los Angeles Times.

-

The reporter, and Thomas Wilder, who had just greeted him.

Finally, he saw Earl.

The veteran in the red hat sat in the eleventh row, next to Dan and Cody. They weren't wearing work clothes, and Earl wasn't wearing a hat either; his gray hair was clearly visible under the light.

At that moment, Rachel walked up to him and asked, "Who did you see?"

"Earl," Sean said in surprise.

Rachel followed his gaze and said, "He really came."

"Um."

Kelly walked over and checked the time: "Three minutes left. Ready?"

But then Sean took a deep breath: "I'm ready!!"

Rachel glanced at her speechlessly, then suddenly said, "Pan."

"Hmm?" Sean turned to look at her.

"You—" Rachel paused, "Never mind, it's nothing."

Kelly chuckled at her gesture. "You two don't need to be so ambiguous. Let him go on stage."

Rachel glared at Kelly again, while Sean smiled without malice before turning and walking toward the podium.

The lights shone on him, and hundreds of eyes in the audience were on him.

He walked to the front of the podium, quickly stood still, and let his hands hang naturally at his sides.

His opponent, Harris Crane, also walked onto the stage from the other side.

Sean looked at the numbers above Crane's head.

【5】

Ah, just as I expected!

Kran stopped and looked at the host.

The host was a woman in her forties from a public television network, reportedly known for her neutrality. She briefly explained the rules: each person would give an opening statement for five minutes, followed by a free debate, and finally, each person would give a three-minute summary.

"Are you two ready?" the host asked at the end.

The two nodded in unison.

"Now," Crane smiled, "let this old man start."

He looked at the audience and began his speech: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have served in this district for twenty-five years. In those twenty-five years, I have secured more than two hundred billion dollars in federal funding for California, I have supported trade agreements that doubled our agricultural exports, and I have pushed for legislation that provides better healthcare for veterans."

"And my opponent, Mr. Sean Penn, what has he done? He's acted in a few movies. Then suddenly he wants to be president. He says he wants to set up labor training centers and levy a data tax. Sounds great, right? But I ask you: Where will the money come from? Who will implement it? What makes you believe that someone who has never managed any institution can manage the whole country?"

"This is reality, not a movie. You can't solve unemployment by reciting lines. You can't get factories back to work by creating a persona. You—can't—govern—by—acting."

"If possible, then Cillian Murphy should be president!" he said with a laugh. "Of course, rest assured: I will not persecute Oppenheimer!"

His puns, though not particularly clever, were enough to make everyone present burst into laughter.

Applause erupted from the stands, and the supporters of Ukraine waved small flags.

Now it's Sean's turn.

Sean watched as the audience's approval rating steadily declined, and for a moment, he felt a sense of exhaustion. Sigh, is this the power of a doer?

He placed his hands on the podium, remained silent for two seconds, and then said, "Senator Crane said he has served in this constituency for at least twenty-five years."

"What does 25 years mean? It means that when I was born, he was already in Washington. It means that the young people in this town, whose parents swore allegiance to Crane, weren't even born yet. It means that the unemployment rate here has increased from 5 percent 20 years ago to 9 percent today."

The audience fell silent.

"Senator Crane said he secured $20 billion in funding. I have a question: Of that $20 billion, how much went to Bakersfield? How much went to Watts District? How much went to the seniors who collect food from the community center every week?"

He looked at Crane.

"Senator, you say that performances can't govern a country. I agree. But do you know what can't govern a country even more? It's sitting in Washington for twenty-five years, watching your district decline year after year, and then coming back to ask for votes, claiming that things are worse across the street."

"You ask me where the money comes from. I ask you: Where did the money go? You ask me who carries out the work. I ask you: What did you carry out? You ask me why we should believe in an actor. Then I ask you: What reason did you give the voters to continue to believe in you?"

"I won't say I can solve all the problems, because I can't. But I'm at least willing to come to Bakersfield and work with Earl..."

Dan, Cody, and Martha Keller sat together, listening to them talk. "When was the last time you sat here?"

This time, there was neither applause nor boos from the audience.

But Harris Crane remained calm.

“Mr. Pan,” Crane began, “you speak very well. Really. I’ve heard many people like you speak, young and enthusiastic, believing that everything can change, as long as—as long as a new group of people takes the stage.”

"But all of what you just said, all of the questions you asked, have one thing in common: they are all questions, and they have no answers."

You're asking where the money went?

"Let me tell you: the money went to Social Security, to Medicare, to roads and bridges, to the public services that every American should enjoy."

"You ask who will implement it? I'll tell you: Americans who pay taxes just like you, through their elected representatives, decide how this money is used."

"You ask me what I accomplished? I accomplished the task the voters entrusted to me: to protect the interests of this country and to maintain the economic vitality of this state."

Crane's voice began to rise.

"But do you know what, Mr. Pan? Every single one of your brilliant proposals requires money, a lot of money! Where does the money come from? From the taxpayers!"

He pointed to the audience seats.

"Every American faces two things in their lifetime: death and taxes. Federal taxes! State taxes! Sales taxes! They go to Washington, go to the local governments, and are distributed. And when you promise them more services, it means you have to take more money out of their pockets. Or from other people's pockets. But no matter whose pocket it's from, it's taxpayers' money."

"And you, Mr. Pan, have never explained why taxpayers should believe you know better than they do how to spend their money?"