To the people of the Federation, marriage was a private matter. Most wouldn’t announce it publicly without a clear outcome, let alone discuss it when marriage wasn’t even on the table.
Given the Federation’s long-standing monogamous tradition, it was indeed embarrassing for Cook when Lynch found out he planned to marry multiple women and even mentioned it on a call.
But Lynch just laughed. “If you knew what I’d give you as a wedding gift, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed at all.”
Cook was one of the earliest to follow Lynch—just two years, but he had done an excellent job behind the scenes. Lynch’s transport company now held a significant share of the road freight business in Sabin and across York State.
Cook used his connections to recruit truckers and had also acquired many trucks at low cost. His role had long surpassed that of a mere truck driver.
He was more like a general manager of a transport company—maybe even higher—definitely not just a driver.
So he deserved better treatment. This was also one of the ideals capitalism sold to people: a way to realize personal value.
Lynch planned to give him profit-sharing rights and make him a
senior partner
in the company—a gift more than worthy of a wedding.
Cook was genuinely moved. People who’ve had difficult lives tend to be very sensitive.
He knew what others said about him—how a man his age still living with his mother must be leeching off her.
Situations like his weren’t as rare in the Federation as people liked to think. In fact, they were fairly common—even among the elite, like the Duncan family.
To protect their family interests from being diluted through marriage or independence, the Duncans required anyone unwilling to follow the rules to sign a legally binding waiver forfeiting all inheritance and rights, leaving the family to live like an ordinary person.
But how could someone born into wealth live like an average person? Better to kill them, they’d say. They’d rather have a few idiots among their children than allow independence.
The Duncan family had the fewest intermarriages among elite families, reflecting the selfishness and greed of the capitalist class.
Ordinary families had similar issues too, which is why many viewed Cook with disdain. In a society where adulthood meant independence, his choice drew criticism.
But Lynch never looked down on him. Instead, he offered a gift. Their interaction didn’t feel like a boss speaking to an employee—it was more like a friend speaking to a friend.
That put Cook at ease. He smiled unconsciously and turned slightly away from Akumari, the short man who had come to him crying. It was instinct. He didn’t want to share this joy with others—perfectly normal.
“Thank you, boss. Actually, I came to talk about something else today. It’s not about my marriage…”
“Haha, I know. Go ahead, what is it?”
Lynch’s quick response made Cook feel even better. Something that had felt hard to bring up now felt easier to say. “The police came to the company today and took one of our mechanics. His friend wants to know if there’s any way to get him out.”
Cook used the phrase
get him out
, commonly heard among gang members. It wasn’t surprising—the trucker community wasn’t exactly a tame group.
Lynch didn’t hesitate. “I’ll check with the local police about why they came to my company to arrest someone. You said the guy has a friend?”
“Yes…” Cook glanced at Akumari. “…he has a friend.”
“Arrange for a driver to bring him to my office. I may need him.”
Lynch was decisive. He didn’t know why the police had arrested someone from his company, but he had to appear to stand up for his people—even if that person was a local.
If the issue wasn’t serious, he’d help the local get his friend out—and the story would spread like wildfire.
Soon everyone would know: Mr. Lynch, a foreigner, had generously and selflessly helped a local resist the ruling class and rescued an innocent man from the police.
Such stories would help shape a completely different image of Lynch in the eyes of the locals, distinct from the foreigners of the past. That was important.
After the call, Cook spoke to Akumari, who immediately rushed out. Sitting in the car, he was anxious—he didn’t know what Lynch would decide.
The city wasn’t large. In no time, the car stopped in front of a three-story building in the city center.
It used to be the office of a foreign businessman. But during the terrifying riots, the foreigner was killed by a mob. The office was later auctioned off and acquired by Lynch, with the proceeds going to a local Nagaryll charity.
Since the foreign businessman’s entire family had died, the donation would now help many others. If the original owner knew, he might find some comfort in that.
Outside Lynch’s office, Akumari waited a bit before going in. The guard told him Lynch was on an important call and asked him to wait.
Since last year, undersea cables had been laid. Now they were finally connected, linking Nagaryll’s phone system to the outside world. From this moment, Lynch could directly access news from the Federation and reroute phone signals globally.
When capitalists see value—especially non-monetary returns—they invest heavily.
Lynch was chatting with Mr. Truman. They talked about trivial things—weather in the Federation versus Nagaryll, recent TV shows, what the President was complaining about lately.
It was just casual talk for the sake of talking. As the novelty of the new connection wore off, Truman reminded Lynch not to forget his March trip to Gephra, then ended the call.
Lynch smiled at the phone. He had heard the Federation had deployed nearly every cable-laying ship and even retrofitted others for the task.
They weren’t just exporting phone signals—they were bringing over TV broadcasts. Some TV stations were even preparing to set up local branches.
Cultural export was a crucial part of Lynch’s theory of economic invasion. In previous salons and informal discussions back home, he had emphasized cultural invasion alongside economic warfare.
How do you make a conquered people accept their fate without resistance?
The simplest way is to create cultural commonality.
His ideas hadn’t reached the general public—95% had no clue—but the other 5% understood.
Why did cultural export pave the way for economic and other forms of invasion?
The answer was simple: the Federation’s culture was soaked in the supremacy of capital. After years of effort, capitalists had brought capitalism from behind the curtain to center stage. Federation culture itself was pure capitalist culture.
But this truth couldn’t be laid bare for the masses. It was a truth understood by only that 5%, the result of generations of work by them and their ancestors.
When presented publicly, these ideas were wrapped in layers—like the
Federation Dream
.
Stories of poor boys finding success and realizing their potential. People loved those tales of rags to riches, but missed the core message: serving capitalists is glorious. Only by serving capitalists can you realize your full value and live a truly happy life.This core idea gradually erodes people’s ability to think independently, making them believe that the most rightful way to strive is to dedicate their sweat and loyalty to capitalists.
Therefore, exporting certain aspects of
Federation culture
to Nagaryll was imperative. Many might not understand why, but people like Lynch—those in his class—clearly understood the necessity of doing so.
Once the locals are influenced by this foreign culture and begin to accept it, they will voluntarily beg capitalists to exploit them—because only through capitalist exploitation can they feel valuable and realize their self-worth.
This also means that Nagaryll’s society will soon be filled with stories and works centered around the
Federation Dream
. People will grow to love them—and strive to live them out.
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