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

Chapter 119 The Passion Has Been Extinguished

"Residents of Bakersfield," Crane's voice echoed in the auditorium, "I am not standing here today to persuade you to vote for me. Most of you have already made your decision."

"What I want to tell you is this: politics is never an easy thing. It's not a movie, not a performance, and not those pretty words. It's day-to-day work, countless headache-inducing details, and pushing things forward bit by bit in those unnoticed corners."

"I admit that I haven't heard everyone's story. I've heard many in the past twenty-five years, but it's impossible to hear them all. I also admit that there are some things I haven't done well, and some promises I haven't kept."

The audience gradually quieted down.

Crane's voice became sincere: "But there's one thing I've always done: I'm here. Every single day, I'm here."

I'm not here to collect stories, but to solve problems. Those bills, those funding rounds, those unseen, mundane tasks.

"They've all piled up over these twenty-five years."

"Mr. Pan said he was willing to listen. That's good. Listening is important, but what comes after listening? Someone needs to take action. Someone needs to sit in a boring committee, studying the lengthy bills page by page; someone needs to deal with difficult opponents and find a delicate balance between parties."

He then turned his gaze to Sean.

"Mr. Pan, you are young and full of enthusiasm. I admire that. But enthusiasm fades, and youth becomes a thing of the past. When those halos disappear, what remains?"

"I hope that by then, you will still be standing here, telling these people: you have not let them down."

Sean sneered inwardly: Let's not let down the victims of Avalon!

But he couldn't bring this up on the spot, since it could very well hurt the enemy a thousand while harming himself eight hundred.

Completely oblivious to Sean's inner turmoil, Crane turned his gaze back to the audience, to his benefactors: "Thank you, thank you for these past twenty years. I have received unprecedented support!"

Kran took a step back.

The applause erupted suddenly, louder than ever before. His supporters rose to their feet, waving their signs.

Sean watched this scene quietly, then walked to the podium.

The applause gradually subsided.

He paused for a moment, then spoke up: "Senator Crane just said that he has been here for twenty-five years. I believe he is indeed here. I also believe that in these twenty-five years, he has done many things—some perhaps beneficial, some perhaps futile, and some he himself has even forgotten."

He raised his eyes and looked down at the audience.

"But I want to raise a question: what if a person has been here for twenty-five years, and this place remains the same?"

With high unemployment, long lines at clinics, and young people constantly leaving, is simply being "here" enough?

This plunged the audience into silence once again.

"Senator Crane said politics is about details, tedious work, and tough negotiations. He's right, those are all part of politics. But there's another part to politics."

"Politics is asking: Can we do better? Can we not just stay here, but truly change this place? Can we not just maintain the status quo, but move forward?"

Sean's every word was clear and powerful.

"Senator Crane asked me what was left after the passion faded. My answer was: responsibility. Responsibility to the stories I had listened to, responsibility to Earl, responsibility to Martha Keller, responsibility to all those I had promised to listen to."

"Passion may fade, but responsibility will not. Responsibility will only grow heavier until you have done what you are supposed to do."

He looked at the audience and said, word by word, "I may not have twenty-five years. I may only have twenty-five minutes. But in those twenty-five minutes, I want to tell you: If someone is willing to seek change, if someone is willing to try, if someone is willing to believe that things can be different..."

"Then, I am that person."

"And this person is right in front of you."

Sean took a step back.

Thank you everyone.

There was a two-second silence in the auditorium.

Then, applause rang out sporadically from different corners—not so orderly, not so loud, but with a hint of hesitation and authenticity.

Sean looked at Crane. Crane's expression didn't change, but the number above his head was still dropping.

At this moment, Wilder got up from his seat, walked to the center of the stage, and stood between the two.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying throughout the entire arena. "Truly, absolutely brilliant."

He turned to Crane: "Senator Crane, you are a steady and reliable veteran. I have learned a lot from what you just said."

He then looked at Sean: "Mr. Pan, although you are a newcomer like me, your insight and outspokenness have greatly inspired me."

Wilder smiled slightly.

"I came here today just to watch the excitement. I never expected to witness a real debate." Wilder extended his hand and shook hands with Crane and Sean. "Both of you, no matter the outcome, you've both made a lasting impression on everyone in this hall today."

He took a step back, waved to the audience, and then walked off the stage. The camera followed his retreating figure.

A cacophony of voices rose in the auditorium.

The host cleared his throat: "The debate is now over. Thank you both for participating. Please leave in an orderly manner."

Crane glanced at Sean, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the side stage.

Sean remained standing there, watching his retreating figure.

Rachel strode over from the side of the stage and whispered excitedly, "Sean, you did it."

Sean looked at her: "What did you accomplish?"

"You made him have no choice but to take you seriously."

"Did he completely ignore us before? If that's the case, then he'll have to pay the price for his actions." Sean smiled faintly, then looked towards the audience.

Earl's seat in the eleventh row was empty; Dan and Cody had already left.

He looked away and walked towards the side stage. Kelly was waiting there, watching him.

"How is it?" Sean asked.

Kelly took off his reading glasses and gently wiped them.

"Sixty points," he said.

Sean was taken aback: "Sixty points?"

"You let him gain the upper hand at the start, but you turned it around later. But that's not enough. You need to be sharper, more direct."

Even more so—leaving no room for compromise.

"But you're right about one thing." Kelly put her glasses back on.

"What?"

"You've forced him to take you seriously. That's crucial. When your opponent starts taking you seriously, you've already won half the battle."

"I think so," Sean said with an awkward smile. "A huge win."

Outside the auditorium, at the edge of the parking lot.

A pickup truck was parked in the corner. Earl sat in the driver's seat, without starting the engine.

Dan leaned out of the passenger seat to check the commotion outside: "Earl, are you still coming or not?"

Earl didn't answer; he was staring at the view in the rearview mirror.

Outside the side entrance of the stadium, Sean Penn was surrounded by a group of people, some taking pictures, some asking questions, and some handing him a microphone.

"That kid—" Earl said in a low voice.

Dan glanced at him: "What's wrong with you?"

"That person is really right in front of us." Earl put his hat back on, looking like a cowboy with a powerful stride.

"Damn it, you've been fooled by a few words from politicians again?" Dan said, both amused and exasperated.

"Again?" Earl chuckled bitterly as he started the engine. "Yes, but I think it's a good thing, because there are always people who are hopeful."

"Whatever." Dan shrugged. "According to my research, America is currently in an era where there are too many fools and not enough con artists. Let's just trust this newbie con artist one more time; at least he's quite good-looking—"