George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 208

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“Human rights are an illusion. To breathe life into an illusion, you need some kind of external stimulus. The real question is when you realize that.”

Disappointed by the terror attack’s failure, Wesker immediately liquidated the company – or rather, he cleared everything out. The equipment Wesker provided to Al-Qaeda was top-notch. But Wesker himself didn’t get what he truly wanted. So, this deal was just one of countless stepping stones toward his true goal.

“You certainly know how to sugarcoat an inhumane business.”

The man in the gas mask sneered at Wesker’s words. Wesker wanted to retort, but he skillfully held back.

“I’m just talking about the power of money. If it weren’t for money, I’d be rotting in jail right now.”

When the captured Al-Qaeda members exposed him, Wesker, who sold them the equipment, was also arrested. However, thanks to the insurance he had taken out in advance, someone else was arrested in his place, and he was released due to insufficient evidence.

“Even drugs are sold, so there’s no way this wouldn’t sell. Do you know why drug addicts ruin their lives taking drugs?”

“Hmm… Pleasure?”

“Similar, but not quite. They’re trying to gain extreme reassurance by obtaining pleasure from drugs. They’re willing to give up their lives for that reassurance. It’s a bit contradictory, but gambling is similar, isn’t it? You become extremely anxious if you don’t have cards in your hand.”

“So?”

“So, what I’m selling is reassurance, and what I’m getting from that is money. Isn’t money a great material to breathe life into illusions?”

In Wesker’s hand was a black briefcase, which looked like a normal bag on the outside.

“Strive and save yourself. Ah, human rights.”

“Now that you’ve talked enough, can you hand over the goods?”

The man in the gas mask looked bored. He didn’t dislike conversations, but this guy was going too far. He crossed his arms to signal that he wouldn’t listen anymore, and a small, finger-sized doll hanging from his waist swayed. The doll had the name ‘Gordon’ on it.

Wesker understood and handed the bag to the man. The bag the man received was heavier than he had imagined.

“Each vial of the cure in this bag is worth $20,000. And there are 100 vials in total. In other words, $2 million per bag. Since there are 10 bags, it’s a $20 million deal.”

“$20,000? This is beyond simple price gouging. We have to sell it too, you know.”

“It’s common for the black market to have ridiculously high premiums, especially for rare items. As a merchant, you could add another $5,000 to that and still sell it.”

“$5,000. Is that the profit we get?”

A strange atmosphere hung between Wesker and the man.

“Even considering that, it’s too expensive. Are there any other customers besides us?”

“There are plenty of people trying to buy reassurance with money. And even more who take that as an opportunity, like you.”

The bags were exchanged between the men. One bag contained money, and the other contained medicine. The only thing these two bags, different in appearance and contents, had in common was that their contents were ridiculously expensive.

“You’re full of ambition. You certainly didn’t pass it on to other organizations besides us, did you?”

“Well, at least not in the next month or so. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be in this country. In fact, that’s all the medicine I have on hand.”

This alone was the unvarnished truth.

“Is this stuff really effective? ‘Made in China’ doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in Europe.”

“According to the Chinese Communist Party government, it’s a perfect cure.”

The man scoffed.

“’According to the government.’ That’s certainly a trustworthy statement.”

“Actually?”

“At least according to my information, there are no side effects yet. But why would there be clinical trials? Honestly, I think we need to monitor the situation closely.”

“Indeed.”

He gripped the tomahawk hanging from his waist. Gordon, the tomahawk’s namesake, swayed slightly from the handle. One second. In just one second, he could split a skull in half. The months he’d spent inside Riga had forged his body and mind into a living weapon.

“Hmm. Don’t think I came here alone.”

Wesker, sensing a palpable tension, gestured. Several guards armed with accessorized assault rifles stepped out from behind him, creating a buffer between Wesker and the man. Splitting their skulls before they could react wouldn’t be difficult, but realizing he wouldn’t be safe even after, he reluctantly released his grip on the axe.

‘Looks like this will be my last trip to the Middle East. Every organization here is looking at me with unfriendly eyes.’

Wesker seemed to foresee a new conflagration in the Middle East – the flames of war rising higher.

“Excellent.”

That was Karl Rove’s first word upon arriving at the fire recovery site. It had once been a forest consumed by a raging inferno that seemed impossible to extinguish. Now, however, it was filled with such lush greenery that even traces of the fire were hard to find.

Frankly, it was hard to believe a fire had ever occurred here. The only evidence of the blaze, and of the subsequent restoration, were the saplings planted among the mature trees.

‘Seeing this in person, the report almost feels understated.’

Workers were removing kudzu [an invasive vine species] that had survived the fire. They didn’t even need to dig; the kudzu had already shrugged off the fire’s scars and was pushing new growth above ground. A truly tenacious plant to survive such a massive fire.

If anything was particularly noteworthy, it was that all the workers were wearing disposable masks. Normally, large gatherings should have been avoided due to the current situation [likely a reference to a pandemic], but some things were unavoidable. This was one of them. They couldn’t abandon a forest full of black charcoal out of fear of a virus, could they?

However, they couldn’t sacrifice people to save the forest, so they provided thorough quarantine education and distributed masks to prevent cross-infection. Whether through diligent effort or sheer luck, there were no reported cases of infection among the workers or public officials.

That didn’t mean there were no accidents or problems. Traps hidden among the charcoal and ash caused serious injuries when stepped on, and workers, growing careless after long hours, fell into hidden holes. All sorts of incidents occurred.

‘But this is damage within acceptable parameters. Can’t be helped.’

On one side, new saplings and trees were being planted; on the other, piles of charcoal were being cleared away, creating a surreal scene. The charcoal was to be processed into compressed briquettes for disaster relief and exported overseas. Some of the remaining charcoal was reportedly being used for art, but frankly, that was beyond Karl Rove’s concern, and he had no interest in it.

‘Since it’s newly planted, the forest is generally low.’

Unlike forests in some other countries, American forests often featured towering trees that made people feel insignificant, thanks to the rich soil and abundant resources. Looking at this recovering forest made him feel like he was in a foreign land.

‘No, no. The important thing is how much the figures in this report deviate from reality.’

That’s why he’d come all this way, wasn’t it? He had given them notice of the inspection, but the reason he was walking around alone, without a local escort, was also deliberate. He began to meticulously compare each item in the report to the actual situation on the ground.

By the time he had finished checking everything from the first item on the list to the last, Karl Rove had to question his own senses.

‘What? Why is everything correct?’

Even when he scrutinized everything with a deliberately critical eye, the report and the actual progress were perfectly aligned. Of course, there were minor discrepancies, but considering the report was submitted a week prior, those were easily accounted for. In some cases, the progress even exceeded expectations.

“This can’t be.”

Even the most virtuous person has flaws if you look hard enough. And surely, a place where tens of thousands of people – almost a million, including volunteers – were gathered would have some issues. Yet, after spending half the week the President had allotted, the only flaw Karl Rove found was the pure white ash scattered everywhere.

“I feel like I’ve become a traitor, deliberately nitpicking to bring someone down.”

But what could he do? Isn’t that the purpose of inspections? Inspections need to justify their existence. That’s why they try to find fault with their eyes wide open. That’s how administration works. But even if Karl Rove found nothing here, he wouldn’t be punished or disadvantaged. He was here as an inspector, but his primary position was still Deputy Chief of Staff.

“Still, if I go back without any results, the President will go crazy.”

He knew very well that Bush’s paranoia, a chronic condition he’d developed since becoming President, would flare up. In fact, it was no exaggeration to say that the President himself volunteered for most of the excessive workload. Otherwise, he could have reduced his workload by a significant margin.

The President didn’t even seek counseling. Or rather, he was so busy that he couldn’t even if someone recommended it.

Politics was truly a difficult and exhausting job. Even if the site was running perfectly, you couldn’t simply report that it was running perfectly. What a frustrating contradiction! But it wasn’t that the President was a bad person. The problem was the toxic political environment that could make even a decent person develop paranoia, and the problem was this world.

“Ah, I need to find something, anything.”

However, if Karl Rove simply said, ‘It’s running too well,’ he wouldn’t be criticized, but the President would inevitably send others to find something. For example, a budget leak that Karl Rove hadn’t uncovered. Budget leaks were surprisingly common. If funds were being used in an unauthorized way, that constituted a budget leak. Even providing a cup of coffee to the workers could be considered a budget leak if it wasn’t explicitly budgeted for.

You might think, ‘Why go that far?’ but that’s precisely why budgets are so meticulously allocated. Flexibility in budgeting can easily lead to corruption.

‘But I can’t slander a place that’s running perfectly…’

At that moment, an idea struck the Deputy Chief of Staff like a bolt from the blue.

“That’s it!”