mtl008 Chapter 4412 Project Farstar (3)
Chapter 4412 Project Farstar (3)
Chapter 4412 Project Far Star (Thirty)
Clark had been circling that nail for a while now. He lay on the beach sunbathing, seemingly relaxed, but actually at his wit's end. He just wanted to know which utterly despicable person had come up with this idea—and more importantly, wasn't the technique a bit too outrageous?
Clark had truly exhausted every possible method, including adjusting the laser output, finding a clever way to pull it outwards, or drilling through the earth's crust to directly attack the root system. He had been working tirelessly for the past few days, using every trick in the book he had employed over the years, and the result was that he was now lying here, the nail still firmly embedded in the ground.
At this stage, the main emotion supporting Clark's continued efforts was his defiance of fate. He knew he could fly to Mars and try to talk to the Martians, or seek help from others to see if they had a solution. But he felt he should at least try every possible method he could think of before asking for help. And because he had quite a few abilities, this exhaustive approach took a very long time.
Just as Clark stood up to try again, he saw a group of people approaching in the distance. He turned around and saw Schiller walking towards him on the sand, so Clark turned back around.
“Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent!... Clark Kent!”
Clark had no choice but to turn back. He looked at Schiller helplessly and said, "What are you up to now? Why is it that nothing good ever comes when you show up?"
“That’s a stereotype.” Schiller took a document out of his bag and handed it to Clark, then said, “Sign this.”
"What is this?" Clark looked at the document with some confusion, then his eyes widened instantly. "A Kansas state legislator application form?"
“And this,” Schiller pulled out another document, “a condensed version of the application to establish a political party, a judicial ruling from the Supreme Court, and the draft approval document for the election reforms…”
"What is all this about?" Clark was completely baffled. "What does this have to do with me? Why should I sign it?"
Schiller snatched the documents back, stuffed them into his bag, and said, "Actually, this is just a pile of waste paper. The titles are all made up—members of parliament aren't elected through application, and political parties aren't established based on applications. I'm just here to inform you that the election results are in."
"What?" Clark was somewhat surprised. "These guys have finally stopped fighting? Because of this nail?"
"Of course not. It's because a perfect presidential candidate, unparalleled in history, has united both parties, leading them to unanimously decide to abandon their previous voting results and cast all their votes for him."
"Who's so amazing?"
"You."
Half an hour later, Clark walked into the White House looking completely bewildered. He surveyed the presidential residence's decor, wearing a hoodie and carrying a camera, looking like a tourist who had stumbled upon a political news scene. Then they arrived at the president's office, which frequently appeared in the news. Clark circled the desk twice and said, "So this is my desk now."
"Yes, this is the nuclear button."
"What about this side?"
"Currently, it's a water dispenser button, but you can pour any drink you like into it, including cola."
"What the hell?!" Clark exclaimed incredulously. "This is the nuclear button, and this is the Coke button. What if I press the wrong one?!"
“That’s why they found someone who doesn’t like Coke,” Schiller shrugged.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut and said, "Schiller! You tricked me again!"
“Okay, there’s no nuclear button. These are all emergency alarm devices, and you probably won’t have a chance to press them.” Schiller sat down opposite him and said, “Considering you’re not familiar with the presidential job, I will be your personal secretary for the foreseeable future…”
"Are you very familiar with the work of the president?"
"Of course not, that's why the two of us are here—the ones who are really familiar with the work are in the Secretary of State's office."
Clark covered his forehead again.
"So what should I do?" Clark asked, spreading his hands. "What were previous presidents doing when they first arrived?"
"Of course I'll ask the same question as you."
"They can't do it?!"
"Otherwise, they wouldn't be sitting here."
Clark lowered his head and covered his eyes.
“Actually, it’s not that difficult,” Schiller said, pulling out a stack of documents. “Just get these signed.”
Clark took the document with some skepticism, then waved his hand in front of his face, saying with a hint of disdain, "Why is there so much dust?"
"Don't even mention it, it took a lot of effort to find this thing—out of 68 universes, we couldn't find a single United States that still had policy documents from the Roosevelt administration. We searched for ages before finally finding one that was still in office, and we traded a lot of good stuff for it."
Clark stared blankly at Schiller, unable to believe what he had just heard. He tried to ignore the weight of the information in Schiller's words and then said, "Then why is it so old?"
“Because these are early documents,” Schiller said, “he himself sealed them away, and it took him a long time to find them. If there are no problems, you can sign them first.”
Clark quickly flipped through it, but the sheer number of technical terms left him bewildered. Luckily, he had recently honed his English skills and managed to decipher that it appeared to be a tax-related document. Clark didn't think much of it and signed it. Schiller, however, was somewhat surprised. He said, "Aren't you going to take a closer look?"
“Although I’m not from that era, I’ve heard my father talk about it. In fact, our family’s current financial predicament is also thanks to this president—the taxes are too high.”
"Then why did you sign it?"
"Because you can't entirely blame him. Although taxes were high back then, agricultural subsidies were also very generous, and trade was relatively free, so things sold very well. It's just that later presidents kept canceling subsidies, which eventually led to what we have today."
“It seems you have some understanding of his policies,” Schiller said.
Clark said with a hint of pride, "Of course, farmers are actually the most concerned about policies. Their cash flow is already tight, and sometimes if they can't get a subsidy, it can make the farm go out of business. My father always told me this, which is why I became a reporter covering current affairs."
Clark paused for a moment, then continued, “I can roughly understand the pattern of this policy: high taxes significantly reduce disposable income, but this income doesn't disappear into thin air; it becomes a special subsidy. A special subsidy means that you can only use this money to buy specific things; there's nowhere else to spend it. This forces farmers to buy seeds, fertilizer, and machinery, and they can't invest the money in anything else.”
"I think factory owners are probably the same. Most of their income is collected and then distributed as special subsidies. They call it a subsidy, but it's really just distributing resources. They don't have money to do anything else, so they can only use it for factory production. Even if they don't run the factory better, they can at least ensure a certain output."
"After that system was discontinued, farmers who made some money started to invest, either in the stock market or by speculating in futures. Factory owners probably did the same. Because they didn't buy new equipment, their output declined year after year, and their farms became less and less valuable, turning into burdensome assets. They sold them off at low prices and used the money to make even more money in the stock market. As a result, nobody wanted to be a farmer anymore; they all went to the big cities to work in finance."
Clark looked nostalgic and said, “I remember that of the four farms that used to be around my house, all of them have changed hands, and only one is still in production. One has been converted into a resort, and another has been abandoned—you know, these farms used to be the best plots of land, with returns similar to ours. However, Bob, who sold the farm first, made a fortune in the stock market and now seems to have moved to Los Angeles to enjoy his retirement.”
"Actually, I also regret not persuading my dad to sell the farm. If he had invested in the stock market with my mom back then, she wouldn't have had to work so hard, and she might be a rich lady in Beverly Hills now."
“And now?” Schiller asked.
Clark rubbed his hands together and said, "Never mind anything else for now, give me the documents related to agricultural subsidies. I need to make up for all the subsidies that haven't been paid to farmers over the years!"
Schiller rummaged through the documents, pulled out a few, and said, “That’s not a big deal, but the key is whether you can collect taxes—if you can’t, you won’t have money to issue subsidies.”
"How can they still not collect the fees? What is the tax bureau doing?"
"They're alright at their work, but it all happened so suddenly. Some people can't accept it, and it's normal for them to have an overreaction. If there's any violence, and some people seize on it and exaggerate it..."
Clark immediately said, "You're right, those political reporters love reporting on this kind of thing. Go and arrest the editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet; he's worth ten of them."
Schiller sighed somewhat helplessly, and Clark raised an eyebrow and said, "Okay, I know it's illegal, I was just saying."
"No, what I mean is that you can only find a handle to use against someone if there is a violent conflict. If you just pin them down and take them away, you won't be able to."
Clark gave him a question mark with his expression. Schiller said, "Using the police and the military to deal with tax evaders is a bit troublesome. There will inevitably be casualties in the scuffle. We need a cleaner and more efficient method."
"what do you mean……"
“Use superpowered individuals,” Schiller said. “I also happen to be the head of the Sky Eye Society, and I have many capable members in my department, such as Doomsday, who are perfect for collecting taxes. If all else fails, we can contact the Justice League; they are quite efficient when working together.”
Clark thought for a moment, then nodded and said, "Okay, let's do it this way. I believe they can collect the taxes as soon as possible."
Then Schiller pulled out a document and said, "The Metropolitan Municipal Administration Reform Plan, what do you think?"
Clark picked up the document and began to read it. The document mainly contained measures to help the homeless, including establishing shelters, providing collective housing, improving heating conditions, and completely eliminating tent areas, among other things.
“Of course, there’s this one too,” Schiller said, taking another copy. “Solving the problems of rampant drug abuse and gun violence will be a bit more complicated, and we may need superhumans to step in if necessary.”
“No problem,” Clark nodded.
Schiller stood up and said, "I've finished my business. You have an hour's rest, followed by a half-hour interview..."
“I have no time to rest. Let the reporters in,” Clark said confidently. “I’m going to talk about my policies on taxes, subsidies, municipal administration, and combating illicit activities. I need to let them know I’m a good president.”
“No problem, I’ll let her in right now.” Schiller nodded and went out.
Clark was still mentally preparing his speech when a capable-looking figure walked in. Clark looked up and was surprised to see Louise. He jumped to his feet, so nervous he forgot everything he had prepared, and stammered, "Louise... what brings you here? I..."
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” Louise smiled at him and said, “If there are no further questions, shall we begin the interview?”
"Okay...Ok..."