Chapter 124
Chapter 124
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Rights and Duties (3)
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Commodity.
A word referring to all kinds of goods or services traded in the market.
In a capitalist society, anything that could be bought or sold for money was a commodity.
And in Omega Detroit, citizens' voting rights were also up for sale.
As a result, their votes hitting the exchange began to be traded like financial products akin to raw materials, stocks, or bonds.
And all commodities have their prices determined by market logic. Meaning their value fluctuated based on supply and demand.
For example, elections in important districts like Alpha Circle had high demand, so voting rights sold for a relatively high price.
On the other hand, in rundown areas like Epsilon Circle, where most residents were slum dwellers, there were naturally far more votes available, so they sold for much cheaper.
Of course, the ever-fluctuating prices of commodities were always driven by far more complex calculations than that.
It wasn't just the importance of the electoral district that mattered; the fierceness of the competition between candidates or the exact timing of buys and sells also played a huge role.
From a financial product perspective, voting rights were a type of futures contract.
A product with a fixed expiration date for positions.
Obviously, since you couldn't exercise a vote after the election ended.
It had an absolute shelf life, and once that passed, it was utterly worthless.
However, that expiration date didn't simply mean the final election day.
Think about it for a moment.
The election hasn't ended yet, but suppose a specific candidate's vote-buying rate surpasses 51% of the total?
At that instant, every remaining voting right on the market turns into scrap paper.
Because victory is already certain.
No matter how many more you buy or sell, the outcome won't change.
From then on, vote prices in that district plummeted toward zero faster than light.
So timing was crucial when selling your vote.
In the absolute worst case—though theoretical—half the voters, 49% of citizens, might walk away with nothing.
Of course, there were situations where demand outstripped supply.
For instance, if two candidates with similar vote shares kept neck-and-neck.
In such cases, vote prices seemed like they could rise endlessly with demand.
But there was another trap here.
The real backers of every election in Omega Detroit were corporations.
Their guiding principle was ruthless profit-seeking based on cost-benefit analysis.
If vote-buying got too expensive, they'd opt to bribe the winner after the election instead.
Candidates even frequently colluded behind the scenes to concede.
Any leftover votes on the market naturally became trash.
For these reasons, no matter how heated the race, vote prices rarely climbed beyond a certain level.
Thus, voters had made it a habit to sell at an opportune moment before their votes turned to scrap.
But human affairs always explode with unexpected variables.
Such was the upset unfolding in Epsilon Circle 3 Sector right now.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The Radiance Church, nestled in the city one day.
The unfamiliar religious group's charitable work had astonishingly transformed the lives of nearby residents before anyone knew it.
"Here, take some bread! Don't skip meals—stay strong!"
"If you're feeling ill, head to Eleos Medical Center! Devotees get half off treatment fees!"
They filled empty stomachs, healed sick bodies, and sheltered the homeless under the church's roof.
Thanks to them, residents gradually regained some breathing room in life.
People freed from daily hunger could finally think about a slightly more distant future.
Expectations for life ahead. Faith that something would change.
To those beginning to harbor such hopes, election season arrived just in time, almost by coincidence.
"Leo, you sell your vote for this election yet?"
"Nah, thinking of holding out a bit longer."
They were the type who would've sold their votes right away to scrape by.
But with the church filling their bellies, they now had the luxury to look forward.
"Gonna vote yourself instead of selling?"
"No, just... gonna watch the market a little."
Of course, at that point, no one connected the Radiance Church to the election in any way.
The church had no intention of running a candidate, so devotees weren't thinking of the church when it came to voting.
Still, what they hoped for was a slightly different scenario.
It happened occasionally.
Elections where vote shares narrowed to a hair's breadth at the wire, sparking fierce battles.
Usually, the corporations backing the candidates would agree to cool things down, but if their interests clashed too sharply for compromise...
Rare, low-probability pile-up of circumstances, but it did happen sometimes.
When it did, both camps went berserk competing for the scraps, sending vote prices skyrocketing.
And voters who'd held out without selling reaped massive gains unlike usual.
A get-rich-quick dream everyone fantasized about at least once.
That was why 3 Sector residents, who normally sold for immediate survival, were holding till late game.
Low odds or not, it felt like clutching a lottery ticket.
The result?
Votes in Epsilon 3 Sector barely hit the market.
As if by some unspoken pact, a shared anticipation spread among voters.
"Eh, if prices don't rise, oh well."
"Not like selling now gets you much anyway."
At the time, incumbent politicians and sponsoring corps didn't pay it much mind.
"The rabble up to their silly games again."
Omega Detroit's vote market was a chicken game stacked overwhelmingly against sellers—the voters—from the start. Buyers were official candidates only, trading closed the day before election. Miss that, and supply inevitably crushed demand at the end.
So candidates sat back this time too, refusing to chase inflated prices.
"Hold the funds. They'll dump at rock-bottom on the last day."
They begged sponsors everywhere for more cash toward the final showdown—and even approached the Radiance Church.
But right then, a massive variable blindsided their calculations.
The Radiance Church declared its own candidate.
"Alistair Vance here. I stand before you by the church's will and your support."
That instant, devotees forgot all about market prices.
Residents who'd sold votes to corps weren't truly fools. Just desperate. Chasing survival, filling empty stomachs—no choice.
But now, church welfare gave them room to eye the future.
Realizing even sky-high vote sales barely covered a hospital bill, devotees unhesitatingly cast every held vote for the church candidate.
The result? An avalanche of votes overnight.
"30% vote share...?! Overnight?!"
Enough to rattle rival politicians who'd been watching and the remaining voters.
And as mentioned earlier, once one candidate's win was locked, leftover votes became worthless.
Even 'already purchased' ones.
No matter the count, if it didn't top the rival, meaningless.
So corps backing incumbents hesitated. The church candidate's momentum was too fierce; no guarantee pouring money now would win.
While they dithered, undecided voters made up their minds.
"Selling now anyway ain't worth spit..."
"Compared to corporate puppets who'll just screw us over..."
The church had already proven its goodwill.
Even nonbelievers couldn't deny it helped neighbors.
Plus, chances to screw corps in this city? Rare as hell.
The masses always nursed sharp spears in their hearts against exploitative elites. Long-simmering resentment flipped even bystanders to the church candidate.
Once shares topped 50%, momentum snowballed uncontrollably.
With victory certain, scraps were freebies.
People kept pouring votes into the church candidate.
The end result—
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "...Our vote share is at 73%?"
I asked again, dumbfounded.
The priest reporting nodded.
"Yes. Perfect timing. Even a day's delay in declaring, and with votes flooding the market, we'd estimate 10%+ lower."
"......"
Even then, it'd have been a landslide win.
'73% vote share, though...'
No one saw it coming.
Not even me, who'd greenlit the candidate as mere prep for future elections.
Politics? Clueless field. Just gaining experience.
'A trial candidate filed a week ago actually wins...'
Votes still abundant on market, church barely established yet massive support...
'Feels like we've been played instead.'
We'd tossed a casual greeting; locals grabbed our wrist and crowned us.
"........."
Anyway, with a devotee elected sector head, Epsilon Circle 3 Sector was now unequivocally church turf. Still dazed, I asked again.
"How much did we spend on this election?"
"10,000 credit dollars for the candidate deposit."
"...And?"
"That's it."
"......."
Absurd no matter how you sliced it.
10,000 credit dollars—ten million won in old currency.
Compared to corp spending on a candidate...
Practically free.
All our votes were genuine exercises by citizens, not bought.
"How's Alistair?"
"Beat the celebration party to the church, prayed three hours, then left. Apologies to Saintess for missing you due to schedule, he said."
The church's pick, Alistair Vance, was a former city government administrator.
Past: son with rare disease bankrupted him, sold Beta Circle home, exiled to suburbs.
Then chanced upon church; I miraculously healed his son. Since, Alistair's been a devout believer and capable executive.
His faith and skills aside, zero political name recognition.
Yet this nobody wins overwhelmingly in a week.
'It's the church's popular support, ultimately.'
The people's heart.
An element no one in this city valued.
Even I viewed welfare for faith-gathering as endless money pits.
But the result? Church seized city power gratis.
Not intangible influence—real armed force.
'Sector heads command ODPD in their zones.'
Omega Detroit Police Department, ODPD.
Mocked everywhere, but top-tier force in the city.
Just shackled by public authority constraints and tangled interests, forced into negligence on big stuff.
'But wield ODPD freely from now on?'
One sector's troops still nothing to sneeze at.
And who handed us that power? Locals everyone ignored.
The masses' support no one cared about...
Delivered one of the city's elite forces gratis into our hands.
"......"
Maybe even in this world.
In this era...
The human heart remains the mightiest power.