1932: Playing with the Japanese Communist Party with a doll

What about the Saint?

The Saint can't just cut off our financial resources like this!

If this were China, and Springfield were the president of China, he would have long ago followed his own commander's example and taken up arms to kill the landlords.

But unfortunately, this is the United States. Considering the fierce reactions from other states and considering the future, she had to make some temporary concessions.

"What if I told you that the federal government could, through better breeding, better machinery, and friendlier lending and marketing programs, dramatically increase cotton yields per acre in Mississippi while dramatically reducing costs?"

"this...."

Wallace's light words were like a huge rock hitting the deepest part of Connor's heart.

Yield per acre increased and cost decreased?

This is the lifelong dream of almost every farmer who rolls in the muddy waters of the Mississippi Delta!

"Secretary Wallace, is this...is this possible?"

Connor's voice trembled slightly, and he even temporarily forgot the tense atmosphere brought about by Huey Long's assassination.

The reality of Mississippi is too heavy:

Cotton was as cheap as dirt. The heavy shackles left by skin-swapping slavery not only made it impossible for Black people to survive, but also trapped farmers who relied on cheap labor to survive in an unsolvable cycle of low returns. The slightest disturbance would lead to a violent outbreak of conflict between the two sides.

Any temptation that could break this deadlock is enough to make the heart beat faster for this pragmatic governor who wants to change Mississippi but is ultimately powerless.

The smile on Wallace's face, a mixture of the air of an elite scholar and the honesty of a farmer's son, deepened.

This is precisely the key link in his and Springfield's plan - to use real, visible and tangible technological dividends to shatter the last fantasy of Southern conservatives who cling to the "cheap demographic dividend."

"There is no doubt, Mr. Connor, that I would not have dared to visit Mississippi with President Field unless I were absolutely certain."

Wallace waved his hand, signaling to a waiting attendant, who immediately placed a sturdy metal briefcase on the table and opened it neatly;

What caught the eye were several corn cobs that were obviously fuller and had larger grains than the local varieties, some cotton seeds labeled "High Disease Resistant Cotton PV-1933", a thick stack of color prints and several design blueprints.

Wallace first points to the corn cob:

"This is Pioneer's latest hybrid corn variety. Data from Iowa test fields shows its average yield per acre is nearly double that of traditional varieties. It's also significantly more resistant to wind-blown lodging, disease, and pests. It will greatly stimulate the recovery of our state's livestock industry...at least it can help us put food on the table."

Connor's breath hitched. Double!

Oh My God!

Although Mississippi is a traditional cotton state, corn is also an important crop, and the livestock industry, which is now nearly collapsed, was once a glorious place!

Otherwise, what do you usually eat?

Cotton or watermelon?

"And these, under Ms. Field's forward-thinking advice..."

Wallace glanced at Springfield and saw him shaking his head, so he skipped over the flattery that wasn't really flattery:

"The new cotton variety PV-1933, experimental data shows, is at least 80% more resistant to major cotton diseases in southern China, such as boll weevil and wilt! Under reasonable planting density and scientific fertilization conditions, the average yield per unit area is 30-60% higher than your current variety's expectations!"

"!! !"

Connor almost cried out! What do these numbers mean?

This means that even if cotton prices do not rise, farmers' total income can be doubled! Not to mention the saved losses from pesticides and diseases!

Huge benefits!

"and this."

Although he was a scientist-politician, Wallace acted like a good businessman at this time:

"To achieve these high yields and significantly reduce labor costs, these are the real keys - the 'Sharp' series of machines developed specifically for cotton picking by General Electric and Deere under the guidance of the Federal Advanced Technology Laboratory!"

A prototype sketch of a compact, diesel-powered "crawler-type high-speed cotton picker" with multiple sharp spindle pickers is shown alongside a diagram of a matching large, efficient self-propelled cotton baler and field baling module, annotated with astonishing statistics:

The daily picking efficiency can reach 50-70 acres (equivalent to the full-day labor of dozens or even hundreds of skilled black workers at this time), and the packaging efficiency is more than 200 times that of traditional packaging methods.

"No... Impossible!"

This time, Governor Connor could no longer suppress his astonishment.

It is the poorest state in the United States. Even the governor has a pitifully narrow vision. It cannot be said that he is completely ignorant of the changes in the world, but at least he is completely in the dark.

Apart from anything else, at this time in Mississippi, there were still a large number of white farmers who continued the not-too-old tradition of improving the production efficiency of black people - 100 draws were given for free when they went online.

"Nothing is impossible, sir! This is a brand new America!"

Wallace, usually calm, couldn't help but speak with a hint of excitement. "Replace the inefficient, harshly managed, and extremely risky old model with efficient machines and healthy workers who are motivated rather than exploited. High-yield seeds will ensure that your income will not be affected by reducing manpower, but will double! Don't you understand the math?"

"Based on your performance, the federal government can provide a very low-interest or even interest-free loan specifically for cooperative farmers in Mississippi who are willing to accept federal agricultural adjustment guidance, meet New Deal standards, and comply with labor protection laws to purchase cotton seeds, machinery, and fertilizers..."

Haruta interrupted at the right moment:

"Imagine, Mr. Connor, when Mississippi farmers can harvest twice as much high-quality cotton in less time at a quarter of the cost, will they still cling to tradition?"

Of course... no!

Not everyone is a pervert who likes to use a whip to have intimate contact with black people's butts for no reason.

Making money is the core! Profit is the driving force!

Connor fell into a fierce inner struggle.

Fewer workers, fewer regulatory disputes, more cotton, higher profits, and financial support from the federal government!

This is like a spring of sweet water in the desert!

He didn't think Springfield and Wallace had come all this way just to play a trick on him. However, his habitual conservative thinking began to hold him back:

"But... those farmers... they have deep concerns... they are used to being in control... they... will be afraid, will..."

Connor couldn't continue speaking. He noticed that Chuntian's eyes were getting colder and colder. He then realized that he seemed to be a little shameless.

Who is Saint Field?

It's no exaggeration to say that if she wanted to, if she just went out and shouted "Connor is a traitor who is hindering America's greatness," do you believe that this distinguished governor would be involuntarily poisoned by heavy metals in a matter of minutes?

They didn't do that, and it's obvious they were going to follow the political rules. But you don't think that a saint who dared to jump into the raging flood, block the dam with her body, and has become an American god dare not and cannot kill people, do you?

Connor's defense was crumbling, and reason told him that this was the only way to survive, but inertia, the constraints of interest groups, and the "respect" of southern whites rooted in their blood still made him struggle in the last few minutes.

at this time.

"Ms. Field! Help!!"

"Gentlemen, please be kind and give us a way to live!"

"The people sent by the state government stole our relief food! They even beat us up!!" "If you don't let us live, we'll kneel and die here!!"

As the muffled shouts grew closer, the carved oak door of the mansion was flung open, and panicked state troopers rushed in:

"Mr. Governor! It's bad! They're rebelling again!"

A few people walked up to the second floor and saw a "wave" in the distance, treading on the mud brought by the hurricane, rushing towards the state government - it was not water, but a "tide" formed by dark faces and skinny bodies.

They easily broke through the symbolic blockade of the guards who had just suppressed the protest with guns and sticks last month and did not dare to take action this time, and arrived at the gate of the state government.

Most of the people in this group were black, ragged and covered in mud. The old men leaned on sticks, the women held their skinny children, and more men - those "slaves" who were supposed to be squeezed dry in the cotton fields, now had flames of hope and anger burning in their eyes.

Seeing that unfamiliar yet seemingly very familiar figure standing on the second floor, they stopped shouting and just silently held up a rag torn from somewhere, with various slogans written crookedly in charcoal on it:

"Bread! Not a whip!"

"No to hard labor!"

"Ms. Field, please save the child!"

No one knows whether this was an accident or someone deliberately instigated it, but at this moment, none of it matters.

"Mr. Connor, is this how Mississippi welcomes me? It's as warm as Texas!"

This seemingly lighthearted remark became the final shiver that sent the female knight to her climax. (Hey, I just don't say the straw that broke the camel's back.)

Governor Connor's face instantly turned as pale as paper.

What he feared most broke out in the most uncontrollable, extreme and naked way.

The silent cries of these people and the blood-stained slogans before us are the greatest indictment of the incompetence, corruption, and cruelty of Mississippi under his rule!

If Michigan doesn't want to become another Texas, and if Michigan bureaucrats don't want to be treated the same way as Texas bureaucrats, then they must make a choice. If they continue to be stubborn, they will only be burned to ashes by the anger of Ms. Field and the group before them!

The moment Ms. Field starts treating Mississippi like Texas and adopting the "Field/Huey approach," there's no room for any shred of respectability left!

"Agree! We agree to all the conditions of the federation! We will completely revise the state constitution and laws in accordance with the federation's requirements! Immediately! Immediately! We will severely punish anyone who does not comply!"

After saying this, Governor Connor looked pitifully at Springfield, who nodded knowingly and took a step forward, his voice clearly reaching the crowd:

"My dear people of the Union! I am Springfield! You have come just in time! The federal government has reached an agreement with Mississippi, and the sunshine of the New Deal will soon shine upon every honest and working citizen!"

"From this day forward, Mississippi will permanently, completely, and unconditionally abolish Jim Crow laws, all related racial segregation laws, and any form of slavery and its remnants and practices! Violators will be prosecuted for federal crimes against humanity!"

"From today on, you will receive the same legal and political treatment as any ordinary American citizen. The federal government will guarantee your basic civil rights, labor rights, and the right to fair wages!"

Actually, the slaves below did not quite understand Springfield's long speech (due to their low level of education), but they could sense the kindness in his words and the fear of their oppressors.

Similarly, ever since Ms. Field arrived, they had already sensed the change in the atmosphere throughout Mississippi, otherwise they would not have mustered the courage to rise up today.

So, even after Springfield and Wallace left, cheers such as "Our Lady bless the Union! Our Lady bless Ms. Field!" continued to resound in the sky.

"...Ms. Field, I still feel that I should be the one wielding the stick (like playing the good cop or the bad cop), and you should be the one offering the carrot."

"Are you worried about the impact on my image?" "Yes, it will inevitably affect your prestige..."

"There's one thing you've overlooked, Henry. They don't dare oppose me, but you'll be the one dealing directly with them in the future. A poor relationship won't be to your advantage... We still have issues in many states to resolve. You're a technocrat, so don't be too blunt."

"Ah...sorry..." Wallace was deeply moved.

He knew that Chuntian was talking about the assassination just now. This is a leader who dares to take responsibility...

But thinking of Huey Long, whose life or death was uncertain, Wallace became worried: "Senator Huey..."

"Don't worry, I've already told you I'll keep him alive so he can watch me crush those bugs hiding in the dark."

.

On the other side, a short, blonde maid extended her hand to the doctor: "Today, I will be the lead surgeon."

614 Franklin, I need war!

"...Main surgeon?"

Hours after Huey Long was assassinated, the atmosphere in the makeshift emergency room set up at the Austin investigation headquarters was so heavy that it almost made water drip out of it because people were afraid to move.

The best local surgeon, his forehead covered in sweat, listened to the increasingly rapid but increasingly faint heart sounds in Huey Long's chest, and watched the nurse nervously read the rapidly declining values ​​and the almost untouchable pulse from the mercury sphygmomanometer.

The two bullets penetrated the abdomen obliquely, causing complex damage to the abdominal organs (preliminary judgment was that the liver edge was torn and part of the intestine was ruptured) and severe retroperitoneal bleeding. The location was too deep and difficult to control.

The life of the great U.S. Senator Huey Long was as uncertain as a candle in the wind, and he could stop breathing at any time due to the shock caused by the fatal hemorrhage.

There is no doubt that the risks of surgery are breathtakingly high.

Everyone is making final preparations.

The assistants were busy counting the instruments that had just been taken out of the sterile bag. The anesthesiologist was holding the inhalation mask tightly and adjusting its position. The nurse was nervously assembling a simple blood transfusion device with a long needle and rubber tube. The bucket next to it was filled with spare warm saline bottles and ice bags used to slow down blood metabolism and relieve shock.

Everyone's face was etched with immense pressure, anxiety, and fear of facing unknown outcomes.

Perhaps they were also making another preparation - President Field's outstanding assistant died on the operating table.

However, at this moment, a small woman who claimed to be the "President's Special Envoy" appeared at the door - reports from outside said that she had parachuted directly from a plane to the headquarters.

The first words she said when she entered the operating room made the surgeon feel even more depressed: "I'm Sandolesi, the President's special medical officer. Please give up your seat. I'll be the lead surgeon today."

she?

Chief surgeon?

Stop joking, okay?

Which well-connected uncle has to rush in to join in the fun at this time?

Looking at the blonde girl in a maid outfit and her eyes as blue as an icy lake, the surgeon was full of doubts, but the president's telegram had arrived at the same time, so he didn't dare to delay any longer and quickly organized the staff to complete all preoperative preparations.

Sandolesi put on a white coat and came to the operating table. Her eyes were instantly locked on Huey Long, who was dying on the operating table. However, her expression seemed as if she was not looking at a dying life, but examining a precision instrument that urgently needed repair.

At this moment, Huey Long suddenly woke up and uttered a weak but clear prayer:

"Oh, God, please don't let me die. I still want to follow Ms. Field to complete her unfinished work..."

Sandolesi raised his eyebrows, and the surgeon and anesthesiologist panicked instantly. Oh my... Oh Field!