Chapter 767: An Unobstructed Bill

Pittsburgh City Hall, Mayor’s Office.

Leo had just finished a call with Raymond Stock.

The Thunder Celestial Master reported the latest developments to him every two days.

Stock’s work ethic was far better than Evelyn’s. He gave a detailed report on which Philadelphia socialites had come for consultations that day and what he had done.

Leo knew this invisible circle of power was quietly taking shape, but he was also aware that this kind of control, based on mysticism, couldn’t be built overnight. It needed time to ferment and permeate.

What was more important right now was the document lying before him.

Leo leaned back in his leather chair, flipping through the file Ethan had just handed him under the glow of his desk lamp.

The cover was unadorned, bearing only a single line of cold, bold text:

“Implementation Plan for the Construction of an Independent Nuclear Energy Ecosystem in the State of Pennsylvania.”

It would teach Leo how to build a nuclear power plant for Pennsylvania from scratch, carving out a space in a field heavily constrained by federal law, environmental organizations, and the old energy oligarchs.

Leo turned to the first page.

“Step One: Sovereignty and Expropriation.”

Leo’s finger paused on the words.

He closed his eyes and summoned Roosevelt in his mind.

“Mr. President, it looks like we need an agency that can reach into Three Mile Island and take control of everything there.”

“The Pennsylvania Energy Administration.”

Roosevelt’s voice chimed in immediately, full of familiarity. This was a carbon copy of the Tennessee Valley Authority he had established back in his day.

“But before you establish this agency, you must first solve the problem of its survival.”

“You can’t let it become a temporary department that can be dissolved at any time with a change in governors.”

‘We need an initial board of directors that transcends party lines,’ Leo continued the line of thought.

“Exactly,” Roosevelt said approvingly. “The management structure must be politically decoupled. Following the model of the Tennessee Valley Authority, you’ll establish a supreme board of directors composed of five people.”

Roosevelt began to lay out the power structure in detail.

“One director, nominated by the Governor, to represent the will of the current executive branch—which is to say, your will.”

“One deputy director, elected by a bipartisan vote in the State Assembly, to ensure the Pennsylvania Energy Administration won’t be obstructed in future budgets and legislation.”

“One technical expert, preferably a leading figure poached from the nuclear engineering department at Pennsylvania State University. This person will be your weapon against the Federal Nuclear Regulatory Commission, using their academic reputation to guarantee the Pennsylvania Energy Administration’s technical competence is trustworthy.”

“One chief financial officer to manage the vast pool of capital and the settlement of Alliance bonds.”

“And finally, one legal expert to handle the inevitable flood of constitutional lawsuits and environmental claims that will come your way.”

“As for the term of office,” Roosevelt’s voice was laced with calculation, “it must be completely staggered with the governor’s term, set at six to nine years.”

“This way, even if William is ousted in the future, or you leave Pennsylvania, the next governor won’t be able to purge the Pennsylvania Energy Administration’s management in a short period.”

“The agency will have long-term strategic stability.”

Leo sketched out a rough image of this board in his mind.

‘This is equivalent to establishing an energy cabinet within Pennsylvania, one with independent authority over personnel and finances.’

“Let’s do it that way,” Leo said. “I’ll have Ethan instruct the legal team to write this board structure into the draft of the ‘Pennsylvania Energy Sovereignty Act’ immediately and submit it to the legislature tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you going to think it over?”

Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.

“For instance, giving the Pennsylvania Energy Administration more cross-departmental coordination authority, or the power to take over the state’s entire power grid during an emergency. You have enough political chips right now to get everything you want in one go.”

“Not necessary.”

Leo shook his head, his tone filled with an unprecedented certainty.

“Right now, the Pennsylvania legislature is my own backyard.”

“For me, passing legislation is as easy as buying groceries.”

“If the Pennsylvania Energy Administration lacks any powers down the line, I’ll just pass another bill.”

“Whatever I want, they have to give me.”

“The most critical thing now is to get the department up and running first.”

“We’ll take the rest for ourselves, bit by bit.”

…

「Three days later, at the Harrisburg State Capitol Building.」

The atmosphere in the Senate chamber was fraught with tension.

Leo was not there in person.

He had Ethan deliver the draft of the “Pennsylvania Energy Sovereignty Act” to William Saint Cloud.

Then, the day before the vote, he sent a short text message to the senators who were deeply tied to the Industrial Revival Alliance:

“For the future of Pennsylvania.”

In the chamber, a few conservative senators representing the interests of the traditional energy oligarchs were making their last stand.

“This is creating an unrestrained monster!” one senator roared at the microphone, his face ashen as he waved a copy of the bill. “An energy administration with independent authority over personnel and finances, and a term of office staggered from the governor’s?”

“This is building a state within the State Government! It won’t be supervised by voters or checked by the legislature. It will become a breeding ground for tyranny!”

“If this bill passes, Pennsylvania’s energy market will be completely destroyed! We’ll return to the dark ages of a planned economy!” another senator chimed in.

But their roars seemed so powerless.

The senators sitting opposite them, who were deeply bound to Leo through Alliance bonds, industrial orders, and infrastructure projects in their districts, now displayed astonishing discipline.

They didn’t even stand up to rebut.

They had no interest in engaging in such a time-wasting political debate.

After the conservative senators had shouted themselves hoarse, a die-hard senator from the Revival Alliance stood up. Without even glancing at his furious colleagues, he addressed the dais and made a motion.

“Mr. President, I move to end the debate and proceed immediately to a full vote.”

Robert Kaufman sat on the high president’s chair, surveying the floor below.

If he were following the script written by the Republican Party leadership in Washington, he should now unhesitatingly reject the motion and use every procedural loophole to kill Leo Wallace’s “Pennsylvania Energy Sovereignty Act” in endless debates and hearings.

But this was Harrisburg, not Washington.

In the American political ecosystem, local politics and the will of the central government are often in a state of schism.

National interests and local interests do not always align.

Politicians in Washington could talk a big game about ideology on Capitol Hill for the sake of votes and party lines.

But local governors and legislators had to face the concrete realities of unemployment rates, tax revenue, and budget deficits every day.

The Tenth Amendment to the United States Constitution grants the states all powers not delegated to the Federation.

This not only legally supports local independence but also provides a legitimate shield for localities to resist the central government.

This schism was especially pronounced in the realms of energy and industrial policy.

The Republicans in Washington could stall nuclear power legislation at the federal level to accommodate the treacherous dealings of the natural gas companies.

But for Pennsylvania, Leo Wallace’s Computing Power Special Zone and nuclear power project also represented real, tangible income and jobs.

They could support the natural gas companies, or they could support Leo Wallace. The final decision on who to back came down to who played hardball better.

Kaufman was a shrewd politician.

Washington’s slogans couldn’t put food on the table, but a check from Pittsburgh could.

Kaufman glanced at the Republican senators who were deeply bound to Leo by industrial orders. They were looking at him with an expression that mixed expectation with warning.

Local interests had triumphed over party discipline.

Kaufman picked up the polished wooden gavel.

“The motion is seconded. We will now proceed to a vote.”

Kaufman’s voice was steady and decisive.

The numbers on the electronic voting board jumped rapidly.

Thirty-six in favor, fourteen against.

An overwhelming majority, with no suspense whatsoever.

BANG!

The gavel struck its base with a sharp crack.

“The bill passes,” Kaufman announced.

He knew that with the fall of that gavel, the bigwigs in Washington would be hopping mad.

But he didn’t care. His first priority was to protect his own turf in Pennsylvania.