The magnificent city skyline made up of towering skyscrapers decorated the charming scenery of the East Coast. Whether it was Halloween or Christmas, whether it was sunny or snowing, the air here was always brisk. The modern girls in glamorous clothes sat inside luxury cars as they fixed their makeup. The elite white collars with their briefcases walked by hastily and always put their attention on their gold-rimmed watch. The scenes that happened here were no different than Wall Street two hundred kilometers away.
Although everyone in the country was cogs in a huge machine, the people who lived and worked here enjoyed the life that ordinary citizens simply could not imagine.
Of course, it was not the luxury goods they wore, but the funds that flowed through here every day. If everything was converted into dollar bills, it was enough to be spread on every tile of every building on the whole street.
Unlike the world-famous Wall Street, B City Financial Street was quite low-key, just like B City itself. If it was not for the few mentions of the city in movies, books and newspapers, even the people in this country would forget that capitalism was born in this very city.
Of course, these were past events.
Only one of the partners who conspired in the tea-pouring incident that year remained here. Located in the most secluded corner of this financial street, a line of concise English letters was hung in the most conspicuous position of the building for every white-collar worker who aspired to look over and pay respects.
First National Bank of B City, the heart of the Boston Consortium. This bank was founded in 1859, and after the merger with the Bank of Massachusetts in 1903, it was still called the First National Bank of B City. As the earliest multinational bank in the UA, its growth history, to some extent, also reflected the rise of capitalism in the country.
On the highest floor of the skyscraper, in the chairman’s office, the old man with glasses picked up the newspaper on the table with his old and dry fingers.
The newspaper in Loki’s hands was “B City Financial Daily”, and under the title was today’s headline – “SS Origin Arrived in the Kuiper Belt, About Our Future.”
“About our future,” after he paused on the first line of the article for a very long time, he suddenly raised his head, and looked to Bernie Adams sitting on the sofa across from him, he smiled, “My dear friend, what do you think?”
“My opinion is actually the same as yours, otherwise our votes in the consortium meeting would not be so unanimous.” Mr. Adams smiled, took a sip from his teacup, “Where did you get this tea? ”
“The new farm I bought in Ceylon. It is said to be a gift from the East India Company in the early 19th century to Her Majesty the Queen. If you like it, I can give you some.” Loki responded.
“No, just send me some seeds.”
“The key to growing good tea is not only the seeds of the tea, but also the techniques, climate, and even the soil,” Loki said, “I did this experiment a long time ago. The same batch of seeds; part of it was planted in the farm in Ceylon, and part of it was planted in the back garden of my villa in Lexington. They were drastically different from both aroma and taste.”
Compared to the mainstream hobbies in the upper class such as winetasting, equestrianism or golfing, Loki preferred to study tea craft and gardening. It was the one thing that his partner and friend despised the most. Adam made a helpless expression, put down the teacup in his hand, and said.
“Well, let’s put the tea aside, you know I didn’t come for this.”
“I’m as anxious as you are, but now all we can do is to wait patiently. At this juncture, any extra measures may become superfluous. We have provided the best choice to the people, and now all we can do is to wait for them to cast the correct vote.”
As Loki spoke, he flipped the newspaper to the next page.
The article was on Origin and the prospects of the future of the space industry.
He read this article for almost half an hour, not because of how profound the article was, but because he had been thinking about it recently.
On the investment projects in the space sector, Celestial Trade had imposed countless barriers for European and American investors, while for the investment banks of the member states of the Earth Defense Alliance, they had loosened the policy that simply made the outsiders envious. Although European and American investors had won a lot of benefits for themselves through the WTO, compared to the few years after the space elevator was built, their market share in space development had been gradually overtaken by Xin and Xin’s allies.
The B City Consortium had always supported the UA to join the Earth Defense Alliance, because their chips in the space sector had far exceeded those of Rockefeller and Morgan, who had successfully dominated Wall Street. On the contrary, B City Consortium’s investment in the military industry had been gradually taken over by other consortia since the end of the Kennedy era.
Rockefeller and Morgan needed to maintain a tense but not dangerous political environment around the world, while the B City Consortium wanted the opposite. The UA had to maintain a friendly relationship with Xin to advance its space sector. Since the “legacy” of the Jewish consortium was divided, the WASP consortium had fallen apart. The originally united Anglo-Saxon consortium had also already parted ways for their own interests.
“If I can, I really want to catch their ride.” After a sigh, Loki shook his head.
Just then, the phone on the desk rang.
Loki put down the newspaper and picked up the phone.
In an instant, the expression on his face suddenly changed.
He changed the hand holding the phone, deliberated for a moment, and then said in a serious voice.
“…I see, contact Senator Van Buren for me. Ask him to cancel all the arrangements for the afternoon and wait for me at the old place. Also, go to the Washington Post headquarters in person and talk to him about that report.”
“What happened?” Adams frowned when he noticed the expression on his friend’s face.
“There is a little problem,” Loki pushed his chair and stood up, “I’m going to the Capital.”
“Now?” Adams was surprised.
“Yes, now.”
…
“This is shameful cheating!”
Trump threw the newspaper onto the desk in a fit, and yelled, “They want to use a few astronauts to buy the position of the president? NO WAY!”
“We can make a move about this matter.” Behind the sofa where Trump was sitting, a middle-aged man bowed his head as he carefully planned, “For example, hyping Xin’s interference in the election by secretly supporting Joseph Kennedy.
At this moment, the door was suddenly pushed open, and the assistant of the campaign team rushed in excitedly, as he held onto the newly published “Washington Post” in his hand.
“The situation has turned!”
“What happened?” Trump frowned. “Didn’t I say it before, don’t let me see these things, what can a bunch of incompetent people write! I don’t want to know how they are jealous of me—”
“No! The Washington Post didn’t attack you, but… you should read it yourself!”
While the assistant spoke, he handed the newspaper to Trump.
Trump took the newspaper suspiciously, then his gaze focused on the turned page.
The moment he saw this report, he was stunned.
There were only two thoughts in his mind at this moment.
Is the Washington Post helping him?
Did the sun rise from the west?
