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

Chapter 131 The Times Have Already Changed

Sean took the buzzing cell phone from Kelly's hand.

"Benny Archer?" He held the receiver to his ear and spoke first. "I thought your call would come later."

A laugh came from the other end of the phone. "Mr. Pan, I just finished watching the recording of today's debate. To be honest, I was a little surprised that you were able to hold on for that long."

"Persist?" Sean laughed as well. "I thought I had won."

A brief silence lingered for two seconds amidst the electric current.

"You've won part of the game," Benny's voice became cautious, "but far from all. Your theory of 'citizenship' was brilliant, and it certainly left Crane speechless for a moment. But you cleverly avoided his most crucial question—where does the money actually come from? The three paths you listed sounded concrete, but they were still just a framework, lacking key numerical support."

Crane might not have fully grasped it at the time, but by tomorrow morning, his team will definitely have broken down every single one of your suggestions into three detailed reports and stuffed them directly into the inboxes of all the mainstream media outlets.

Sean did not respond immediately, but listened quietly.

So what? Will anyone actually read those so-called reports carefully? In his view, and even in the view of many of his supporters, it simply means one thing:

You're already crying!

On the other side, Benny's speech quickened, his analysis deepening: "The first path, think about it, the federal government's annual vocational training funding is $4.2 billion, of which California receives $380 million. You say the current utilization rate is less than 40%, okay, even if we miraculously increase it to 60%, that's about $80 million more. That sounds like a lot, but once it's spread across California's 58 counties, each county would only get less than 1.4 million more. Take Kern County, where Bakersfield is located, for example, with about 12,000 unemployed people. Even if all 1.4 million were invested, after deducting the costs of instructors, facilities, and teaching materials, the average training cost per person wouldn't exceed $3,000. What can you learn with $3,000? Probably only enough to get a forklift operator's license. And what can a forklift license bring? This is far too far from the future you promised the public."

"Hmm—go on."

Sean silently switched the phone to the other ear.

"Okay, let's look at the second point: companies provide equipment and internship positions, the government is responsible for venues and basic teaching staff, and students promise to serve the companies for two years after graduation. It sounds like a win-win situation, but let me ask a realistic question: why should companies provide equipment that they've invested real money in? Put yourself in their shoes, if you were a business owner, would you sign a contract that requires you to employ them for two years, and whose termination could trigger public criticism, just to save on training costs?"

"Did you call here specifically to refute my proposal point by point?" Sean's tone was unreadable.

"Not entirely." Benny lowered his voice.

"Alright, Benny," Sean said into the microphone, "you called because you probably have more to say than just this, so why don't you just be direct?"

Silence fell again on the other end of the phone.

A few seconds later, Benny spoke, his tone different from before: "That's not it. I called because of something else you said today."

Which sentence?

“You said that maybe one day I’ll become like Crane, but at least not today,” Benny said slowly. “That reminds me of something similar you said to me back in Berkeley. You told me then that the Republican Party I held in my heart no longer existed. And these days, I’ve been thinking about that.”

Sean awaited the next installment.

"I've thought it through," Benny said clearly and firmly. "I choose to stand with you. But I'm not here to join you, nor am I seeking a position."

"Oh?" Sean's voice rose slightly at the end.

"I have my own path to follow." The other person's voice carried a confident air of having planned for a long time. "I can start now and build my own platform. I'm currently in Austin, Texas. I've assembled a small team of twelve people, including data analysts, policy researchers, and communications strategists. We have the data and the models we've built, but we lack someone who can effectively communicate this complex information."

"So, you're seeking cooperation?" Sean already understood the other party's intentions.

"More accurately, it's a strategic mutual support and endorsement," Benny said. "You provide credibility and public influence for our research, while we provide solid data and communication support for your policy claims."

"The current two-party system is rigid, but we are different; we represent new possibilities."

Sean almost burst out laughing.

A young staff member who had just been ousted from Crane's team three weeks ago, brought twelve unknown companions to discuss "strategic cooperation" in such a serious manner.

To put it bluntly, it's just one roadside stall; to put it more politely, it's just a bunch of roadside stalls!

"Then tell me," he asked directly, "what makes you think you're qualified to propose this kind of cooperation?"

"I know how to deal with, and even confront, the Elephant Party. For the past five years, I've handled their core data; I know where their weaknesses lie, I understand the gaps in their data chain, and I have a firm grasp on those things they think they have in their grasp..."

Information from constituencies where public support has actually begun to waver.

"You won the debate today, and Crane certainly lost. But do you know where he really lost? It wasn't because of your improvisation or eloquence, but because he simply no longer understands what people in places like Bakersfield are thinking and what they need."

"He is still clinging to the same constituency mindset he had 25 years ago, but times have changed."

"Come to Texas, Mr. Pan. See for yourself what our team is doing. After that, you can decide whether to continue viewing me as a disillusioned opportunist or—a potential ally worth serious consideration."

"I will take this into consideration," Sean gave a cautious reply.

"Really? I think your answer right now sounds more like a polite but perfunctory response," Benny persisted.

“If I were to say that thirty seconds ago this was indeed a perfunctory response,” Sean’s lips twitched slightly, “then now it isn’t.”

A relaxed laugh came through the receiver: "Okay, then I look forward to seeing you in Austin. Good luck!"

After the call ended, Sean handed the phone back to Kelly, who had been standing next to him.

"You've been eavesdropping on everything?" he asked.

Kelly nodded, his smile deepening. "I heard it perfectly. This young man certainly has a lot of drive."

Sean walked back to the sofa and sank into the soft cushions. He looked at his partner and said, "Benny Archer has assembled a team in Texas, and he seems interested in working with us."

"Cooperation?" Matthew's voice rose involuntarily. "What does he have to offer for cooperation?"

Kelly then leisurely walked to the armchair opposite Sean and sat down. "No, no, no, I think this might be an opportunity."

"Sean, in my opinion, your reply of 'taking it into consideration' was still too dismissive." He then looked at Sean.

Sean met his gaze, gesturing for him to continue.

“Austin is an interesting place,” Kelly said slowly. “It’s one of the most concentrated strongholds of progressive think tanks and research institutions in the country, where top talents from both sides congregate, spy on each other, poach each other’s talent, and fiercely clash on the invisible data battlefield. The fact that these young people can establish themselves in such a complex environment and try to make something of themselves proves their resilience and certain abilities.”

Matthew couldn't help but interject, his face still showing worry: "But Mr. Kelly, that's Texas! It's a deep red state! We just dealt a heavy blow to the Elephant Party in a public debate, and now we're heading straight to their heartland—isn't that like walking into a trap?"

Upon hearing this, Kelly's wrinkles smoothed out. "Son, how about I tell you an old, tired Jewish joke?"

"What joke?"

"Once upon a time, a devout Jew went to a rabbi and asked, 'Reverend Rabbi, may I smoke on the Sabbath?' The rabbi sternly replied, 'Absolutely not!' A little while later, another Jew went to the same rabbi and asked, 'Reverend Rabbi, may I smoke on the Sabbath?' The rabbi thought for a moment and said kindly, 'Of course, my child.'"

"You see, the key often lies in how you define the problem itself. We're not going to Texas to start a direct war; we're going there to find allies. Once we find them, we'll naturally come back. What's so scary about that?"

Even the usually stoic Rachel couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Mr. Kelly, the age of your joke is probably older than all of us combined."

Sean did not participate in this little joke.

Kelly was right; his reaction just now was indeed full of arrogance.

Weakness will not destroy him, but arrogance will.

"So when do you think we should head to Texas?" he asked, turning his gaze away.

Kelly threw the choice back to him: "It's up to you. When do you think is appropriate?"

Sean hesitated for a moment, then quickly weighed his options: "Next week. We need a few days to settle some important matters in California, then fly directly to Austin."

Matthew, who had been hesitant to speak, finally couldn't help but speak, his tone filled with concern: "Mr. Pan, please forgive me for raising my objection again—I just feel that this decision is perhaps too hasty?"

Sean smiled wryly and said, "Matthew, do you know why Crane lost today?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Because he was always waiting," Sean said. "Waiting for the opponent to make a mistake first, waiting for the so-called perfect opportunity, waiting for everything to be ripe. And what was the result? This idiot ended up with a district that became increasingly distant and riddled with problems. I don't want to repeat his mistakes. Sometimes, action itself creates opportunity."

Vincent nodded; he felt he'd heard Sean say those words somewhere before.

"Well—okay then."

Matthew scratched his head, and then it seemed that the matter was settled.