American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

The marble-floored lobby of Atlas Television headquarters still retained the desolation that Arthur Sterling felt when he left.

The last image of this veteran media professional was captured by countless cameras, becoming a footnote to the end of an era.

The air in the building seemed to still carry the dust of the last century—a mixture of ink, old-fashioned cigars, and cheap instant coffee, a musty smell of the old "Fourth Estate."

Victor Corleone walked into the chairman's office that once belonged to Arthur.

The decor here is old yet elegant, with mahogany bookshelves filled with various journalism trophies and precious interview notes, and Pulitzer Prize certificates hanging on the walls, as if silently flaunting the professional ethics that this media outlet once upheld.

"That's so outdated."

Barry Hines followed behind, kicking the thick Persian carpet under his feet with disgust, as if kicking away a rotting corpse.

"Boss, according to the space utilization analysis, these mahogany furniture pieces occupy 30% of the effective visual space, and their sound absorption is too good, making this place feel lifeless."

He looked around and continued, "I think we should replace all the windows with floor-to-ceiling glass and install state-of-the-art Bloomberg terminals and real-time data walls. We need to make this look like a command center, not a nursing home."

Victor ignored Barry's grumbling and walked to the window overlooking the Hudson River, looking at the ice floes floating on the water.

His fingers lightly brushed across the windowsill, leaving a thin layer of dust on his fingertips.

"The renovations are secondary, Barry. The hardware upgrades are just to serve the software upgrades."

Victor turned around and looked at the management team who had been waiting for a long time.

This was a special "pre-battle meeting".

Sitting on either side of the long table were no longer the old editors who talked about "journalistic ideals," but "new media elites" specially selected by Victor: a financial director from Wall Street, a data scientist from Silicon Valley, a legal advisor from K Street, and a visual director poached from Hollywood.

"From today onwards, Atlas Television Network is officially renamed Global Vision News Network (GVN)."

Victor's voice echoed in the empty office, "We need to change more than just the name; we need to change our understanding of 'news'."

Elias Vance, GVN's new executive vice president and a veteran who had worked for Murdoch's News Corporation for many years, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses.

He flipped through the thick market research report in front of him and cautiously asked, "Mr. Corleone, according to the latest Nielsen ratings data, our core audience is between 45 and 65 years old. What specific requirements do you have for the channel's new style?"

"Will the government lean towards traditional elitism to maintain engagement with high-net-worth individuals, or will it take a populist approach, expanding its viewership through radical viewpoints?"

"Neither."

Victor sat down in the huge boss's chair, clasped his hands together, and glanced at everyone present.

"Those are all old-world binary oppositions. What we want to promote is 'Tech-Optimism' and 'Commercial Liberalism'."

A commotion broke out in the conference room.

CFO Bennett frowned, tapping his Montblanc pen lightly on his notebook: "Mr. Corleone, from a GG revenue perspective, 'tech optimism' is usually highly correlated with advertising spending by tech giants. However, the current media environment is not friendly to large companies. Excessive hype about technology may be seen as soft advertising, leading to a decline in credibility and consequently affecting viewership—that is, our CPM (cost per thousand impressions)."

"That's because you don't understand the current economics of anxiety."

Victor leaned forward, his eyes sharp as knives. "In this anxious age, people don't need neutral reporting; they need direction. They need someone to tell them that even though the world is burning, technology has fire extinguishers."

"We want to tell the audience that all suffering is temporary, all diseases can be overcome, and the combination of technology and capital is humanity's only salvation."

He held up one finger: "We need to package 'consumption' as 'investment,' and 'medication' as 'evolution.' This isn't just news; it's psychotherapy."

"To achieve this, we need to create a series of flagship programs. The first one is 'Medical Black Box,' hosted by April."

These words caused an uproar in the meeting room.

Chief Legal Officer Wallace immediately closed the legal code in his hand, leaned forward, and said urgently, "Mr. Corleone, I must remind you that from a compliance perspective, this is extremely risky."

"Aprilley is one of the most vocal opponents of the Water Group, and if she were given prime-time speaking opportunities, she could launch an attack on our parent company. This could trigger shareholder lawsuits and even an SEC investigation into related-party transactions."

“Mr. Corleone,” Vice President Vance hesitated for a moment, “and from a personnel perspective, April… I’m afraid she won’t cooperate. She sees us as enemies.”

"She will."

Victor gave a confident smile, as if he were talking about prey that had already fallen into a trap, "Because we will give her an offer she cannot refuse—the absolute truth."

Victor turned to the legal officer: "Wallace, I need you to draft a special employment contract. Give her double the salary, but the salary structure should be designed as 'base salary + syndicated bonuses'."

"Give her absolute freedom to investigate, and put it in the contract terms. Tell her she can investigate anyone she wants, as long as those people aren't Walter."

"We can provide her with some 'insider information'—dirt on our competitors."

Victor added coldly, "For example, internal emails from Pfizer or Purdue Pharma cutting back on R&D spending to make a profit, or field reports on how foreign pharmaceutical companies exploit patients in third-world countries by using patent barriers."

"We must give her the sharpest sword, but we must control the direction in which that sword is wielded."

"This is called 'controlled opposition'."

Victor leaned back in his chair. "A sense of justice is an extremely expensive fuel, and we must channel it into the right engine."

"While she's busy exposing our competitors, GVN is seen by the audience as the most outspoken media outlet. And Wotler, as the only giant that wasn't attacked by her, will become the 'conscientious company' under survivor bias."

Wallace adjusted his glasses and quickly jotted down notes in his notebook: "Understood. We'll establish an 'editing firewall' structure, ostensibly paying her production fees through a third-party trust fund, cutting off direct funding to the Vought Group to avoid accusations of conflict of interest."

After resolving the personnel issues, Victor stood up and walked to the control panel in the studio.

On the huge screen wall, real-time hot topics from all over the world are displayed, with red and green candlestick charts and dynamic keyword cloud maps intertwined.

"Barry, I want you to build a 'news lab'."

"Specifically, we need to establish an 'emotion-content' response mechanism."

Victor spoke as if explaining the operation manual of some kind of precision instrument: "When the algorithm detects an increase in the public's 'fear index'—such as due to a flu outbreak or economic recession—we will immediately push a special report about 'Wat Neuro-Repair Agent' on the big screen."

"Don't just sell drugs; tell stories. Tell stories of people who were given a new lease on life through technology in the face of despair. Package them as a kind of 'symbol of hope.'"

"And when people feel 'angry,'" Victor swiped his finger across another screen, "we need to guide them to attack those 'bureaucracies that hinder innovation,' such as the FDA's slow approval process or the rigidity of healthcare policies."

"Direct your anger toward the system, and leave your hope to capital."

A data scientist excitedly interjected, "We can use A/B testing to optimize the headlines and cover stories. We can push different versions of the 'truth' to different audience profiles."

"If the audience is conservative, we emphasize 'personal responsibility' and 'freedom of choice'; if the audience is liberal, we emphasize 'breaking monopolies' and 'equal access to healthcare'."

"Absolutely correct." Victor nodded approvingly.

"We want the audience to understand a principle: truth is not a naturally existing rock; it is a constructed building. As long as I have enough cement and steel bars, I can make it round if I want to make it round, and square if I want to make it square."

"This is what's called 'agenda setting.' We don't just want to report on the world; we want to define the world."

Over the next few hours, Victor demonstrated his profound understanding of media power. This was no longer a newsroom meeting, but a delicate surgical procedure.

He ordered the dismissal of the veteran editors who adhered to the principle of "objectivity and neutrality," replacing them with a group of young people who understood algorithms, psychology, and the logic of traffic.

"Visual Director," Victor turned to the Hollywood expert who had been silent, "I want the news footage to have a 'cinematic' feel."

"The colors need to be more saturated. We should learn from David Fincher's films, using cool tones to create a rational, technological feel, and warm tones to envelop our products. The editing needs to be more fragmented to match the cognitive rhythm of the TikTok generation."

"The background music should be more provocative, with the addition of low-frequency infrasound at key moments to evoke a sense of tension and anticipation in the audience."

"We want to make news as addictive as a Hollywood blockbuster. Dopamine, that's our only KPI."

As the meeting drew to a close, Barry glanced at his Blackberry, leaned closer, and whispered, "Boss, what about the negative rumors surrounding the 'Hercules' cholesterol drug?"

"Recently, some fitness bloggers have posted videos on YouTube questioning our long-term safety, claiming that it can cause liver damage. Although the number of views is only in the tens of thousands, it spreads very quickly."

The PR consultant immediately tensed up: "Should we send a lawyer's letter? Or file a copyright complaint to get the video taken down?"

"madness."

Victor scoffed. "Sending a lawyer's letter will only trigger the 'Strassan effect,' drawing even more attention to this matter. Since they want attention, we'll give them attention."

"Send them invitations," Victor said without turning his head, his tone as calm as if he were arranging afternoon tea. "Invite them to our 'Science Open Day.' Reimburse their first-class airfare, arrange five-star hotels. Take them to our state-of-the-art laboratories."

"And then?" Barry asked.

"Then, in front of the camera, let Dr. Porter use the most obscure biochemical terms—such as 'allosteric regulation of lipoprotein lipases' and 'metabolic pathways of the cytochrome P450 enzyme system'—to completely confuse them. When they look bewildered in front of that pile of complex molecular formulas, give them a close-up."

Victor straightened his tie and continued, "Next, we'll air an in-depth investigation into the dangers of 'illegal underground supplements' during prime time."

"Cut together clips of these bloggers' previous videos with footage of underground workshops. There's no need for direct accusations; just establish visual connections through 'montage' techniques."

"Tell the audience that those who question Walter's scientific authority are often the ones peddling unregulated 'three-no' products."

"We need to establish Walter's 'legitimacy' and 'authority' through comparison. This is called 'noise control'."

"In the eyes of the audience, we are not selling medicine, we are protecting the sacred flame of science, and the other side is just a clown trying to urinate in the sacred flame."

As night deepened, the GVN logo lit up again atop the building, its blue and white light piercing the Manhattan night sky like a giant electronic eye, coldly watching over this city of desire.

Victor stood on the rooftop, the cold wind tousling his hair, but he felt no cold.

He felt a sense of control he had never felt before.

He knew that from this moment on, he held not only medicine in his hands, but also the power of perception in the entire society. In this age of information overload, whoever controls the sieve that filters information holds the power of God.

He picked up the phone and dialed Saul's number.

"Saul, start building up the public opinion for the 'Brain Health Act.' I want every American to feel like they need a 'neural repair' before they even wake up."

"I've already had lobbyists draft a bill," Saul's shrewd voice came through the phone. "We'll define 'brain health' as ​​a fundamental human right, so those who oppose us are opposing human rights."

"In addition, I have contacted three veterans' associations and two autistic children's mothers' support groups, and they will go to Capitol Hill to 'petition' tomorrow."

"very good."

Victor hung up the phone and looked down at the flowing river of cars.

The truth is merely a footnote for the victor. And he is preparing to write his most glorious chapter.