The Fox of France

It had been an entire afternoon of bickering with no resolution in sight, as anticipated.

"Until the very last moment, they won't budge when it comes to their interests," Fekin and a few other worker representatives discussed on their way back. "Frankly, they're feeling the heat. Every day the factory halts, they bleed money in thousands. And with the 'Paris Trade Fair' looming closer, they're burdened by bank loans and various pending payments. They're anxious; they can't afford to let this drag on. So, don't let their calm facade today scare us. Truth is, they're running out of time. If the funds dry up due to the factory's halt, the crisis will spread to other domains. That's something neither they nor their backers can tolerate. So, as long as we stand firm, they'll eventually compromise."

As they spoke, encouraging one another on their way back, Bill interjected, "Fekin, do you think they'll accept such losses? After the fair, might they revert to the original contracts?"

It was a significant concern. Even Fekin had to admit the possibility, perhaps with a touch of confidence, erasing the word 'might.'

"They've never been inclined to compromise, but why must they now? It's simple: because the workers united and showed strength," Fekin remarked. "The Raynes are pragmatic. Look at today, our sarcasm and jabs were like a direct slap to their faces. If it were me, well, I'd probably lose my temper immediately."

With a self-deprecating chuckle, Fekin continued, "But, did you notice? Did that guy lose his cool?"

"Not a bit," Bill shook his head. Then he added, "That's why I'm more concerned. Slap the man in the face, and he can still smile. Gosh, I wish I could just end him, but seeing him grin, I lose sleep..."

"Bill, do you reckon this guy despises us?" Fekin inquired.

"Of course, he must!" George, another worker representative, chimed in. "We're standing in the way of his wealth. Blocking someone's fortune—why wouldn't they hate us?"

"Killing his folks or toying with his wife, to him, might not be as detestable as obstructing his wealth."

"If he despises us so much, why doesn't he confront us?" Fekin asked again.

But this time, without waiting for a response, he answered, "Because he dares not. He knows clashing with us isn't worth it. Making concessions to us costs him a pound, while confronting us costs him a pound and a penny. He won't pick a fight. So, as long as we display strength and make them see that clashing with us incurs greater losses than compromising, they won't dare. Therefore, to prevent them from reneging in the future, we need to fortify our unity further. If they make a move, our unified action will make them bear unbearable losses."

Fekin's words bolstered their resolve, yet he knew matters weren't that straightforward. The vested interests surpassed mere worker and factory owner dynamics. Numerous critical aspects remained unspoken, such as the distinction between short-term and long-term gains.

Directly confronting the union, leading to a major strike, would indisputably harm Raynes' short-term interests as factory owners. But enforcing the new contracts in the long run would be more beneficial. Additionally, if the Raynes chose to provoke this struggle, they would prepare in advance, reducing their short-term losses further. Victory in this struggle would be exceedingly challenging under such circumstances.

And that wasn't the worst part; what if? What if the troublemakers weren't solely the Raynes or the textile magnates but the entire 'wealthy class'? Knowledge gained from studies in Toulon indicated a broader entity—'The United Kingdom.'

So, the adversaries facing the London Textile Workers Union weren't just the factory owners but a more formidable and fearful entity—the United Kingdom.

Hence, the enemies before the London Textile Workers Union weren't solely the factory owners or even just the textile magnates, but the 'rich class' as a whole. And this collective entity, as his studies implied, went by the name 'United Kingdom.'

So, before the London Textile Workers Union, the foes weren't solely the factory owners but a more imposing entity—the United Kingdom.

Fekin and the struggle of the London Textile Workers Union against this adversary felt like a child wielding a needle against a Level 26 Ancient Red Dragon in a game.

However, certain matters couldn't be avoided just because the power discrepancy was vast. Much like a child refraining from picking up their needle doesn't stop the Red Dragon from eating them gently.

Often, despite the opponent's might, we're left with no choice but to wield our needle, not for glory or justice but for survival.

As an individual worker, becoming a representative might offer opportunities for treachery, selling out fellow workers for thirty silver coins. But for the collective—the textile workers—resistance was the only path.

Honestly, the Raynes and those wealthy folks didn't harbor hatred for the workers. They perceived them as tools, means to their profits. Why would they despise such tools? Despite some resenting their transformation from living beings to mere tools, to capital, what concern was that to them?

Hence, for those who didn't wish to become Chaplin's depiction of tools in 'The Gilded Age,' resistance was the sole route, even against a formidable opponent like the 'Trisolarans' while we remained 'insects.'

Yet, these words couldn't be shared now. The adversary was too formidable. Expressing these thoughts might terrify them. So, Fekin reflected and spoke cautiously:

"After this, we must further strengthen the unity among textile workers. Relying solely on them won't suffice. While the wealthy have many internal conflicts, they unanimously oppress the poor. Hence, to survive and resist, we must organize more impoverished people. Textile workers, steelworkers, shipbuilders—all workers must unite. While the wealthy have united long ago, so must the poor to counter them, to avoid or at least minimize oppression."

As they walked and conversed, some discussed reinforcing unity among textile workers, contacting workers from other industries, while others envisioned a future where they'd save enough to start anew in the New World. Hope was vital; it sustained these workers through their hardships.

Meanwhile, the textile factory owners convened to strategize their next steps.

"These representatives are a tough nut to crack," remarked one factory owner.

"True. But not impossible," Rayne said. "They're vigilant, but no one can stay vigilant indefinitely. There'll be a slip. So, it's not impossible; they caught us off guard, leaving us no time to react."

"What's your suggestion then?" another factory owner inquired.

"Step back temporarily, restoring most clauses from the old contract," Rayne suggested. "Simultaneously, find a way to divide them."

"They're always together. How do we divide them?"

"We bypass them and directly aim to divide their foundation—the workers. Those workers have been enduring hunger. A slight concession, without even meeting halfway, might make them feel like they can barely scrape through. Then, some will enter

the factory or at least aspire to. How many can we exploit there? Once that time passes, they won't pose a threat. By then..." Rayne chuckled darkly, "By then, anyone who's taken what's mine will return it; anyone who's eaten mine will regurgitate it! Honestly, if it weren't for the Paris Trade Fair, not just us, many influential figures would have already disciplined them! Worried this new contract won't hold?"

The 'respectable' attendees erupted in laughter akin to hyenas. A breeze swept in, swaying the candlelight and distorting their shadows, resembling specters.

Tomorrow marks the birth anniversary of the great proletarian thinker, revolutionary, Comrade Marx. A day of rest in his memory. Updates resume the day after tomorrow. Your understanding is appreciated.

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