Businesswoman Chapter 121

At the head of the table, Statist murmured.

“Is he alright?” Socialista asked. “He’ll be fine,” Common Man replied. The dinner had been carved up to show that Fascbinder could divide thr portions made equal according to how much someone had stubbed their toe or had lost money on a bet. Whomever had the worst condition received the most provisions.

“Statist!” Common Man called. “How’re the vegetables?”

“Let’s take the power of the nutrients in this food and find it to be something special,” Socialista mentioned. She stated this with a sense of coldness wrapped in a warmth like an icy glass shattered by the flow of above temperature water. They sat around and chomped and ensured that the best way to represent the Collectivists would be to present utter squalor.

It was mixed like an economy. They wore tailored suits but walked barefooted on dirt.

“I just want the money,” Common Man blurted out between chewing on arugula.

“We have to get to a point to just get the money. It’s out there for us. Only we know what it really means.”

“Socialista?” Fascinder queried.

“I mean, yeah, we need money. We know how to get it. We can just show that our way of living is right. Sure, we fight over whose system is the best, but we’re still on the same team against them.”

Statist tapped his cane on the table and the air sucked out of the room.

“What is this you speak of? You want the money, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice!”

The three other Collectivists looked at each other. They seemed to be stunned by the elder’s words.

“I for one can say that my system is all about the poor,” Fascbinber proclaimed.

“I thought it was the other way around,” Socialista added.

“Not at all.”