Empire of Shadows

Dave and several worker representatives emerged from the dock, all wearing the brand-new work uniforms that Lance had provided.

It had to be said that wearing neat work uniforms had brought about a huge change in everyone's mental outlook.

They hadn't received higher education, so they didn't know how to describe this feeling, but they felt like they had become a single rope, and had become more powerful!

Now, if the capitalists dared to face them, they could shatter one with a single punch!

They smoked cigarettes and walked with the wind, no longer like they had been before.

If someone familiar with the history of labor unions saw this scene, they would understand that these worker representatives were entering a special stage, a stage of transformation.

When they fully emerged from this stage, they would no longer be ordinary working class; they would gain greater development space in politics.

That's how labor unions came to be!

When the working class banded together to resist the exploitation and oppression of capitalists, everyone was together.

But only the first group who shouted "Workers Unite!" and began to formulate some rules, and were seen by some as fools running around trying to help everyone defeat the capitalists, ultimately transcended the working class.

They formed labor federations, and some people discovered these problems and realized it was an opportunity to change themselves, so the second group became the rule-makers of industry unions.

When those workers, those who were no different from them, reacted, both the labor federations and the industry unions no longer had a place for them.

Perhaps Dave and these people could no longer establish a labor federation or an industry union, and there wouldn't be a place for them in it.

But they were indeed transforming, and in a place they couldn't even see, a blank space was being released again.

Johnny, who was at the front, opened the door to the restaurant, and the others filed in. They quickly saw Lance sitting at the table in the middle of the restaurant.

There was no one else in the entire restaurant; Lance had booked it, for an hour.

It wasn't mealtime, and Lance had temporarily booked it for twenty dollars.

"Mr. Lance?"

"Someone said earlier that you wanted to see us?"

Lance gestured for them to sit down and asked the restaurant's server to bring some coffee.

After everyone was seated, he said, "The militia will enter the city in a few days, to be exact, the day after tomorrow."

Everyone showed an expression of disbelief when they heard this sentence. The militia entering the city was a big deal in the Federation, representing the destruction of order!

After the internal contradictions of the Federation were resolved, they formulated a series of rules, some written on paper, framed, and placed in museums or political buildings to remind people of their past promises.

There were also some that they couldn't easily record, promising verbally and guaranteeing that they would abide by them.

Politics and the military were separate; they shouldn't be changed by someone's will.

Seeing the workers becoming a little nervous, Lance continued to ramp up the pressure, "And I have definite news that in addition to solving the security problem, they will also solve the strike problem."

"Suppress the strike?" Johnny stood up in shock. This wasn't in the script!

The others also looked shocked. Lance slowly nodded, "Goldport City can't allow chaos, and you should know that the chaos now is actually a confrontation between two interest groups."

"Locals, and outsiders!"

They had heard these rumors. Workers, especially those with the right to vote, most often talked about political matters, although the closest they ever got to politics was the moment they dropped their ballot into the ballot box.

But they were still keen on talking about politics, talking about figures related to politics.

Of course, they had heard the story of "locals" and "outsiders," after all, the huge Newport District was right there, and it hadn't been completed or fully put into use yet.

But to say that they had a deep understanding of these matters was not entirely true.

Lance briefly explained, "The mayor may have orchestrated a self-directed shooting that linked all the events, including the current chaotic city security problem."

"Shootings, explosions, turf wars, many areas have fallen into great chaos!"

"Plus, we're on strike at this critical moment!"

"Now, if you were the governor, what would you think?"

"You should all know that Goldport City is very important!"

These worker representatives were able to be elected by the workers to become worker representatives, definitely not because they were stronger when tightening screws, or could carry more when moving things than anyone else.

It must be because their brains were good enough, at least better than the brains of other workers.

They could consider more things, more detailed things, which is why they were elected to become worker representatives.

Those fools wouldn't have this opportunity in their lives.

So they would also use their brains to think. Under extremely limited intelligence, a not quite correct, at least not completely correct, truth began to appear before them.

"We have become pawns on the chessboard!" Dave roared unwillingly. He had felt the most and the strongest during this time!

His clenched fists creaked. Lance believed that if he had a chance, he could smash this wooden table now!

The other worker representatives also showed expressions of anger and unwillingness. Although they often talked about politics, who would want to be a part of a political game?

Moreover, the next key node in this game involved the "militia."

"Once the militia comes in, this strike will become very dangerous," Lance crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and patiently discussed with them the possible trends of the strike.

"Either, we don't compromise, and eventually we will be regarded by the mayor and some people who are eager for the city to stabilize as unstable factors hindering the city's stability, and then be suppressed by the militia!"

"Or, we choose to compromise, but what we get may be no salary increase for a longer time, no more benefits, they won't respect us because our strength is laughably weak!"

Lance's words made their breathing become heavy. The thought that this was the future not long after made them feel a deep despair surrounding them.

"These damn capitalists and politicians, they never care about us at the bottom!" A worker representative slammed the table, the coaster and coffee cup on the table jumped, he was startled by the sound, and then scratched his head a little embarrassedly, "Sorry, I didn't notice…"

Lance shook his head, picked up the coffee and took a sip, to avoid the coffee splashing out the next time they slammed the table.

He pointed at the man, "You're right, no one cares about us except ourselves."

"Actually, I heard Vaughn say that the General Labor Union is very dissatisfied with Goldport City for going on strike privately without obtaining approval. Vaughn supported our strike under great pressure."

"I always believe in one thing, that is, no one can help us except ourselves!"

Dave nodded vigorously, "You're right, Mr. Lance, only we ourselves will care about ourselves!"

He paused, looked at the workers around him, and lowered his voice slightly, "Do we have any way… to change this ending?"

"At least I don't like this ending, whether we are suppressed, shed blood and sacrifice, or we choose to compromise, and let these days of effort become a joke, is what I want!"

The other worker representatives also echoed, their positions were simple, clear, and independent.

Lance took a puff of cigarette, "Actually, the reason I asked you here is also because of this matter, I do have an idea, maybe not very mature, but there is some risk."

"If it succeeds…" He leaned back, at this time he didn't need to show an aggressive or invasive posture.

Instead, this kind of obviously calm and defensive action was more appropriate, which could make his words more convincing. He already had a complete plan, and everything was under his control!

"Mr. Lance, please tell us what to do!"

Lance seemed to hesitate, thinking, and after a while, he nodded, "Okay, I'll tell you."

"You should know that mobilizing the militia must be the result of the governor submitting it to the state legislature for approval. In other words, this is an internal affair of the Licaray State."

"The matter hasn't fermented further, and maybe no one in other regions of the Federation is reporting our strike."

"I said, the General Labor Union is very dissatisfied with our strike decision. If they don't help us convey our demands, it will be difficult for more people to know what is happening here."

"If the state government intervenes administratively, even the congress may only know that sending the militia is to solve the security problem, but they don't know that they are trying to use the militia to suppress a legitimate strike!"

"So, my idea is, before the militia enters the city, let's make a big move!"

He licked his lips and stopped, which required giving these worker representatives a process of interpretation, understanding, and then their own processing. They would add some details that Lance might not have said according to their own ideas, and use these details to impress themselves.

After waiting for two or three minutes, the bearded man said, "Do you have any plans?"

Lance nodded, but didn't speak, instead looking at the others. "What about you?"

"Do you want to join?"

The other worker representatives looked at each other.

Dave slammed his hand on the table at this moment. He hit it with great force, and a lot of coffee splashed out. Fortunately, Lance had the foresight to take a couple of sips.

"I once heard a saying—"

"Victory is never begged for!"

"This saying is perfect for the current situation. We have been forced to stand on the edge of a cliff, with cliffs on both sides. No matter which way we go, we're jumping down!"

"Since we're jumping down anyway, why not choose a direction we can control, instead of the one they left for us?"

"Even if jumping down breaks all the bones in my body, at least I resisted!"

His words were somewhat clumsy, but his general meaning was very clear. Johnny immediately stood up as well. "That's right, tell us, Mr. Lance, we'll listen to you!"

The others also expressed their support. Only then did Lance nod slightly. "Actually, what we need to do is very simple."

"There are a large number of supplies on Golden Port Wharf. Seize a batch, destroy a batch, and burn a batch!"

In an instant, everyone was stunned!

Even Johnny was a little at a loss!

Lance looked at them and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Once there is unrest at Golden Port Wharf, it will attract greater attention, because the owners of these goods on the wharf involve different regions throughout the Federation, and even the whole world!"

"They will only clap and laugh when they see us injured and sad, thinking they're watching a farce."

"Only when they feel the pain firsthand will they realize how much suffering this is!"

"Pain will make them shout. They will speak out, letting more people know about this turmoil, know about this destructive strike, so that they can face our demands squarely!"

Lance's words were powerful, which was what the workers wanted to hear.

The bearded man frowned. "Mr. Lance, I'm not questioning your idea, but if we do as you say and destroy some of the supplies, will they let us off?"

By "they," he was, of course, referring to the owners of those goods.

If their things were destroyed, someone would definitely have to take responsibility and bear the consequences. As one could imagine, they had no advantage at all in confronting these capitalists.

Lance tapped the table twice with his finger. "First of all, most of the wharf management companies and the owners of the goods have bought insurance."

"If an accident happens, they won't come looking for you for compensation. Instead, they'll go to court with the insurance company!"

Ocean transportation was still very risky at this time, including port warehousing.

A storm could destroy a shipment, or flood the goods in the warehouse, so most port businesses bought insurance.

Although Lance wasn't sure if the insurance company's terms included clauses that compensated for damage to goods caused by humans, when capitalists realized that the only place they could recover their losses was the insurance company, they would definitely unite and go to court with the insurance company.

On the contrary, the entities that destroyed these things, namely the strikers and workers, wouldn't have to bear such serious economic compensation.

"The only risk you might face is being sued for damaging things on the wharf."

Lance's gaze lingered on their faces one by one. Some looked worried, while others seemed indifferent.

After a dozen or twenty seconds, he continued, "If they really sue you, or others…"

"I can guarantee that I will arrange the best lawyers to defend you, help you minimize your sentences, and through some…"

He raised his hands slightly, palms outward, "…some technical means. You know, some technical means are very technical and challenging, but they can allow you to get out sooner."

"Only in this way can we let the Federation know that there is a group of people like us here who need the attention of the people and the entire society!"

"Only when we do these things will there be a force significantly higher than the state government to intervene in these matters."

"War is about to break out. If Golden Port City, this important transportation hub for supplies, experiences a prolonged accident at this time, the federal government will not be able to accept it!"

Dave said the word, "Congress!"

Lance pointed at him. "You must read the newspaper a lot!"

Dave was suddenly a little embarrassed. "I like to read the newspaper and learn about national events."

"That's a good habit, keep it up."

Lance stroked his eyebrows. "You can go and discuss it with your friends, colleagues, and fellow workers."

"But it must be as soon as possible!"

"We must seize the initiative in our own hands. Even if we have to jump off the cliff, we are jumping off voluntarily, not being forced to jump off by them!"

"If the initiative falls into their hands, we will no longer have any chance to choose. Whatever they say is what we will be!"

Johnny suddenly raised a question. "Lance, payday is coming soon. If we make too much trouble, they definitely won't pay us, and might even use this as a bargaining chip."

He glanced at the others. "I don't care, but there are more than ten thousand workers on the wharf, and some of them are waiting for the money to live on."

This was already in Lance's plan. "There are two ways to solve this problem. We can take some of the supplies from the wharf."

"You work on the wharf every day, so you definitely know better than I do which warehouses contain more valuable things."

"This part can make up for some of your economic problems."

"If you still need money, you can come to me. I can lend you some money first, without interest. After we negotiate the terms and the wages come down, you can pay me back."

Johnny's question and Lance's solution seemed to be a very good choice. The worker representatives looked at each other, thought there was no problem, and then stood up.

Lance repeatedly urged them that time waits for no one.

For the militiamen, they would only gather and enter the city by car after forty-eight hours.

But for the workers on the wharf, they might only have twelve hours, or even have to make a decision before tonight!

Soon, these worker representatives left the restaurant. They quickly returned to the wharf and began to spread these ideas.

At first, they were cautious, but soon more people joined in.

Their feelings were the same as when the worker representatives first heard the news: either be suppressed and forced to the ground by reality.

Or, choose to compromise and kneel down again!

Neither path was what they wanted. After kneeling for a long time, people become numb.

But fortunately, there was another path here, a third path!