America 1982-Chapter 65 - 21: Sometimes Painful, Sometimes Excruciating
At sunset, Tommy Hawk was carrying two beers as he walked to the seafront pier at Kingston, where like the past few days, Madoff—an old and obese man—wore a beach hat, sitting on a small fisherman’s stool, silently fishing.
"Considering your current physique, does it feel somewhat painful to sit on such a fisherman’s stool?" Tommy stood next to Madoff, handing him a beer and then admiring the distant seascape as he asked.
Madoff took a sip of beer and said slowly and with a sigh, "Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes extremely painful."
"Since you can look at the issue this way, Mr. Prime Minister, I can speak my mind, without being too delicate. If hanging out with us high school kids the other day was just painful, then soon, everyone in this country will be playing the fool, all to please the eyes of the Americans. That, for you and this country, might indeed be the time of extreme pain," Tommy Hawk stated bluntly as he took a seat on a nearby rock, speaking to Madoff.
Madoff set down the beer, reeled in his fishing line, rebaited, and cast out again, then he looked towards the white youth under the sunset, who was speaking with a maturity beyond his high school years, and smiled, "Maybe I’ve guessed a bit of your train of thought? Begin with England, end with England?"
"Yes, because there are two issues in this country right now, each belonging to two equally powerful but outwardly different groups—one is called the government, and the other is called the capitalists. The former are hypocritical, the latter barbaric. My lifelong lower-class educational experience taught me that you can never get Penthouse and Playboy for the price of a single magazine," Tommy said to Madoff, shrugging.
Madoff looked away from Tommy, gazing at the sea, and chuckled, "Don’t think I don’t know what those magazines are, kid. Your educational journey sounds quite voluptuous."
"So I think, to save the government’s face and push the aid issue onto England, we could buy the United States Government some time. It would allow them to represent credibility and justice, supporting us against the capitalists. Even though it won’t truly change the capital game, they’d be willing to slightly punish the overseas factories of Boulton Sugar Industry if it means gaining favor with this country and the perceived image of government most Americans have," Tommy Hawk said, tilting his head back for a swig of beer and then smiling at Madoff:
"It’s just like when you ask me every day why I don’t experience a day in the life of a real Prime Minister. My answer has always been the same: the job is exhausting, especially in a small country like this—it’s far more strenuous than making money as a capitalist. When national policies affect my business, I’d rather donate a sum to bribe politicians to vote against those policies, hire a few lobbying firms to do some PR at the White House, urging the government to withdraw decisions that are unfavorable to me. I shouldn’t be the one worrying about the dignity and face of the nation’s citizens, that’s damned well not something a selfish person like me should consider." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
Madoff grinned, his eyes lingering on the undulating sea in the distance, "You’re not a selfish child, Tommy. I knew it the first time you came here. That’s why I agreed to sign the contract with you, because you took the initiative to share the money you earned with us, and selfish people don’t do that, certainly not Boulton Sugar Industry."
"So, from the moment you chose not to share the proceeds, I should have realized that a situation like this would arise." Tommy put down his beer, pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, turned slightly to shelter from the sea breeze, lit the cigarette, and said with a smile.
"To be honest, I also find the job of Prime Minister too exhausting. My college... I studied medicine in Nottingham, England. Back then, this country was still a colony. The medical environment was dreadful; uneducated black people who got sick couldn’t go to the same hospital as white folks, only to shabby clinics for treatment. I wanted to be a doctor then, to diagnose and treat them. I started as a doctor, and worked my way up to this country’s Chief Medical Officer. I wrote to the British Overseas Colonial Department, the Governor’s Office, and even to my professors and classmates in England, hoping they would give this country a bit of assistance. After many years of effort, England decided to build a medical school here with an attached hospital..." Madoff suddenly burst into laughter:
"Do you know what the plot twist was at that point? You got it, the United States forced England to give up this colony. Saint Vincent gained independence and my years of efforts turned into nothing. The medical school didn’t come, the British left, leaving behind countless senior positions black people had no access to before. The Americans told us, ’We might have brought you freedom, but don’t mind it too much. If you really want to show gratitude, you can cooperate with us, join my American cooperative organization. I’ll set up factories and even give you financial support. Oh, and you only need to form two political parties, like we do in the United States, form a tripartite national system, and then your country can operate fully.’ There were only nine members with higher education in the whole country, and they were forced to split into two parties, six on one side and three on the other. If I could beat the Americans, I would have ridden my bike to Washington and cursed those bastards out. How could they suggest establishing two political parties first when it’s clear this country doesn’t have a university or a decent hospital, and eighty percent of the citizens are illiterate?"
"Saint Vincent isn’t the first victim, nor will it be the last. Maybe saying this will make you feel a bit better?" Tommy Hawk exhaled a puff of smoke and lowered his head as he spoke.
Madoff took several sips of beer before looking at Tommy with a smile, "Kid, has anyone ever told you that you don’t look like a high school student at all?"
"Not like one?" Tommy looked down at his outfit and then questioned Madoff in return.
"Sometimes you don’t, sometimes you really don’t." Madoff burst into laughter, "For example, right now, following your train of thought, I guess... would it be that high school graduate from Harvard who prays every day for his grandfather to ascend to heaven soon, to complete your final plan? That’s not something a high schooler would come up with. High schoolers prefer to personally undertake such exciting and blood-pumping experiences."
Tommy flicked the ash-gray ashes. The ashes, dislodged from the cigarette, were swept away by the sea breeze before they could touch the ground:
"Of course I’d want to, but I don’t have a wealthy grandfather that I can pray for God to take away soon. Stephen, that’s what a real elite high school student looks like, the pride of heaven. He doesn’t need to worry about whether he’s really that exceptional or not. His family status is laid out right there, and as long as he hasn’t made any major mistakes or brought shame to his family, he’s considered outstanding. He can make headlines because his family behind him is happy to see that, and then they’ll further amplify his influence, increase his popularity, whether in business or in politics... Apart from him, even Catherine and the other students can’t fully cope with the influence this incident brings, because Catherine still needs to build her resume at the children’s television station. As for me taking the stage, it’s a hundred percent loss of opportunity. I can tell you now what my family would do if they knew I was going to Washington. My dad would walk around the community with a bunch of unemployed buddies, announcing, ’My dear son Tommy is off to Washington to represent a country in negotiations with the United States; we’ve gotta drive down to Washington to support him~~’ Then the neighbors in the community would kindly dial the mental hospital and police station for my dad, free of charge, ’Come on! Colin Hawk is fucking losing it again!’"
At that moment, the fishing line suddenly jerked. Madoff skillfully and slowly started reeling in, patiently engaging in a tug-of-war with the hooked prey. Eventually, he pulled a banana fish out of the water, at least seventy centimeters long!
"It seems my luck has greatly improved since you’ve arrived, kid," Madoff said happily to Tommy, looking at the struggling catch.
Tommy finished his beer, jumped down from the rock, "So, sometimes painful, sometimes extremely painful? What do you think?"
"Painful or embarrassing, it’s all part of the process. The most important thing is the harvest. As long as the result is good, pain or embarrassment doesn’t matter," Madoff removed the fish hook and placed the fish into a bucket beside him, "Don’t feel guilty for what you’re about to do, kid. No matter the outcome, this country and I personally will sincerely appreciate you."
Tommy Hawk took a deep breath, "Prime Minister, you’re probably the smartest man in this country, even though you look like a postman. I hope you understand that maybe we’ll still receive some gratitude, but you, I fear, won’t get any gratitude from this country. Americans can hold grudges. After laying low for a while, they’ll use their ignorant citizens to attack you, making you step down, and all that you have sacrificed..."
"As I said just now, Tommy, if this country can get fairness out of this, then it’s not painful for me." Madoff baited his hook again and cast his fishing rod out onto the glistening sea, interrupting Tommy’s words, "And I’m not the smartest person in this country. However intelligent or not, right now I just want to enjoy this rare leisure, quietly fishing."
Tommy nodded in understanding and then slowly walked back the way he came, softly reciting the words his mother had instilled in him since childhood:
"He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death..."
