Chapter 424: Chapter 196: Transparency Reform
Spring came slowly to Pittsburgh.
The ice on the Monongahela River had just finished melting, but a cold wind still swirled at the street corners. Only the occasional specks of green sprouting by the roadside served as a reminder that winter was over.
Leo sat behind his desk, holding a cup of hot coffee and looking out at the city.
No urgent calls, no startling awakenings in the middle of the night, no ultimatums that backed him into a corner.
The bill in Washington was still making its way through the legislative process. Redemptions were frozen, stabilizing the cash flow for now. More and more cities were joining the alliance, the snowball growing larger and larger, which allowed Pittsburgh’s finances to hold out longer than Leo had expected.
"Quite a change, isn’t it?"
Roosevelt’s voice drawled lazily.
"A soldier only feels safe in the trenches. Put him in a soft bed, and he’ll get insomnia."
"I’m just enjoying this rare moment of peace, Mr. President," Leo replied. "Besides, I haven’t been idle."
He pressed the button on his intercom.
"Ethan, how’s that project coming along?"
A few minutes later, the office door was pushed open.
Ethan Hawke walked in. He looked a bit thinner than he had a few months ago, but he was full of energy.
"Boss, you have to see this for yourself." Ethan smiled mysteriously. "The place is ready. Marcus is running the final diagnostics."
"The place" he was referring to was the top floor of City Hall.
It had originally been a massive old archive room, filled with a century’s worth of Pittsburgh’s paper documents.
Those yellowed pages recorded the city’s birth, glory, and decline, and they had accumulated a thick layer of dust and the smell of mildew.
Leo followed Ethan to the top floor and stepped out of the elevator.
At the end of the hallway was a new, futuristic-looking automatic door made of frosted glass.
Ethan swiped a card.
BEEP.
The glass door slid open to both sides.
Leo walked in and paused for a moment.
The room looked like a war room from the Pentagon, or maybe NASA’s launch control center.
The lights in the room were dimmed, with the only illumination coming from the massive LED screen that took up nearly the entire front wall.
On the screen was a holographic map of Pittsburgh.
The map was alive.
Countless colorful points of light pulsed, flickered, and flowed across the map, like the city’s unceasing lifeblood.
Marcus sat at the central console, surrounded by a ring of monitors.
Hearing footsteps, he swiveled his chair around and pushed up the black-framed glasses on his nose.
"Welcome to the brain of Pittsburgh, Mr. Mayor."
Marcus pointed at the large screen behind him.
"This is what Pittsburgh looks like right now."
Leo approached the console, gazing at the spectacular torrent of data before him.
"Explain," Leo said, looking at the pulsing points of light.
"It’s simple." Marcus stood up, holding a laser pointer. "Green represents ongoing construction."
The laser pointer aimed at the South District and the North Shore.
There, a dense cluster of green dots was slowly moving and flickering.
"Every green dot is a municipal works project currently under construction."
Marcus zoomed in on the map and clicked on one of the flashing green dots.
An information box popped up, showing the project details.
[Project ID: CZ-0078, Project Name: Community Center Renovation, Supervisor: Nathan Coleman.]
"For example, this contractor named Nathan is renovating a community center."
"As soon as the foreman clocks in on the mobile app, the green light here turns on. We can monitor the progress, personnel count, and even material consumption of every single worksite in real time."
With a flick of his wrist, Marcus pointed to the commercial district.
"Yellow is for newly registered small and micro-enterprises."
Specks of yellow light were scattered there. Though not as dense as the green, they were increasing at a rate visible to the naked eye.
"Every time a yellow dot lights up, it means a small business has put down roots in Pittsburgh, and that our tax base is expanding."
Finally, Marcus pointed to the red dots.
They were sparsely distributed across the city’s various corners, flashing with a glaring warning light.
"Red represents problems."
"These are hazard reports submitted by citizens through the Pittsburgh Heart app—things like potholes, trash pile-ups, broken streetlights, or burst water pipes."
Marcus tapped a key on his keyboard, pulling up the details for one of the red dots.
A photo appeared on the screen: a deep pothole on Fifth Avenue, accompanied by its GPS coordinates and submission time.
"Before, back in Carter Wright’s time."
"A complaint about a pothole like this would take an average of twenty-eight days to resolve—from a citizen making a phone call, to the district office logging it, to the public works department assigning a task, and finally, to a worker going out to patch it."
"Sometimes it would even drag on for three months, until someone broke their leg."
Leo glanced at Ethan, who was standing beside him, and teased, "And then the person with the broken leg would show up at City Hall with their hospital bills and a lawyer, demanding a huge settlement, right?"
Ethan gave an awkward laugh and didn’t reply.
Marcus pressed the enter key.
The red dot on the screen changed color, turning into a flashing blue.
"Now, the system has taken over this process."
"As soon as a citizen uploads a photo, the back-end system automatically identifies the problem type and severity, then directly dispatches the task to the nearest available contracted repair crew."
"The current average resolution time has been reduced to forty-eight hours."
"For urgent hazards, we require a response within four hours."
Leo watched the dot that had turned blue.
He could almost see a repairman in a pickup truck rushing to the scene, asphalt and shovel in hand.
This was efficiency.
This was what he had always wanted.
"And there’s this."
Ethan walked over and pointed to a separate panel in the bottom-right corner of the screen.
"The real-time fiscal expenditure monitoring system."
Ethan explained.
"Of course, it’s not perfect yet. Right now, the system can only track the portion of project funds paid via credit notes. But as long as the transaction occurs within the alliance, the flow of every single cent is clearly traced right here."
Leo leaned in for a closer look.
The data stream was incredibly detailed:
[10:42 AM] Nathan Coleman purchases 12 buckets of paint from a designated building materials supplier in Erie using credit notes. Amount: 480 credit points.
[10:42 AM] Transaction confirmed. System automatically records transfer. Balance credited to merchant’s credit note account.
[10:43 AM] Funding Source: Phase II Revitalization Plan Special Allocation - Community Beautification Sub-project.
Every transaction was crystal clear: which account the funds came from, which account they went to, what was purchased, and in what quantity.
While cash transactions couldn’t be fully monitored yet, as long as core material procurement was locked into this system, there would be no room for dual contracts, fraudulent expense claims, or kickbacks.
"In the future, we’ll integrate all project payments, even workers’ wages, into this system," Ethan added. "It will be difficult and will step on a lot of toes, but that’s the direction we’re heading."
All funds operating out in the open.
"This is simply..."
Leo couldn’t find the right word.
’Magic.’
Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.
’Leo, this is Magic.’
The President, a man who had once ruled the United States for twelve years and built a vast Federation bureaucracy, now stood before this screen, feeling an unprecedented shock.
’Back in my day, to find out if those damned bureaucrats at the Public Works Revitalization Bureau were slacking off or embezzling my funds...’
’I had to send out hundreds of Federation inspectors on trains all across the country.’
’They had to audit ledgers, inspect sites, and write thousand-page reports. By the time those reports reached my desk, three months had already passed.’
’And you...’
Roosevelt sighed with emotion.
’You just have to stand here and glance at a screen.’
’That thick wall between the government and the people... you’ve completely shattered it.’
Leo stood before the screen.
The dancing points of light reflected in his pupils, making him look like a god surveying his domain.
’Mr. President, do you remember?’ Leo said in his mind. ’When we first discussed these new-age monsters, you said the greatest sin of the tech oligarchs was stealing the people’s data and using it for profit.’
’You said that ultimate ownership of data must be returned to every citizen who creates it.’
Roosevelt’s voice carried a hint of gratification. ’I remember.’
’Look at this screen.’ Leo gazed at the flowing data. ’Now, this data no longer belongs to the oligarchs at the Omni Company. We’ve taken it back.’
’The city government has taken over the management of the data, and its benefits—faster repair times, lower administrative costs, more transparent fiscal spending—are being returned to every citizen.’
’We haven’t yet fully achieved what you spoke of, making every citizen the master of their own data.’
’But at the very least, we’ve taken the first step.’
’We’ve taken the data out of the capitalists’ safes and turned it into a public resource.’
’It might only be Pittsburgh’s data, but it’s a good start.’
This made him feel more proud than any election victory.
"Ethan, Marcus."
Leo turned to face the two young men.
"This system... can it run without me?"
Ethan was taken aback for a moment. "What do you mean?"
Leo ignored Ethan, his gaze looking past everyone, as if peering into a distant future.
He was afraid.
The fear came without warning, yet it was so real.
All of this was so wonderful it felt like a dream.
And he was afraid of waking up.
He was afraid that all of this was temporary, merely the result of his personal will forcibly bending reality.
What if one day he was gone? What if he lost the next election? What if he was assassinated by some unseen enemy? What if the ghost living in his head suddenly disappeared?
What would happen to the city?
Would it revert to being a tomb of rust and despair?
He needed an answer, one that could set his mind at ease.
"I mean," Leo repeated, his tone more forceful, "if I’m no longer here, can this system continue to run on its own?"
Marcus looked at Leo and replied, "Of course it can, Mr. Mayor."
"This isn’t a piece of software that depends on any one person. It’s a foundational architecture based on algorithms and systems. Its rules are written in the code."
"As long as the servers are running, as long as the rules exist, it will keep operating."
"It doesn’t depend on anyone’s will, including yours."
"Good."
Leo smiled.
He looked at the wall-sized screen.
He knew this was the most precious legacy he could leave for Pittsburgh.
Not the port, not the renovated apartments.
But a system of rules.
A set of governing rules that were transparent, efficient, and could not be easily altered.
Even if he were gone in the future, even if the next mayor was an asshole, as long as this system remained, the citizens of Pittsburgh could continue to monitor where every cent went and continue to enjoy efficient services.
He had seized power from the hands of bureaucrats and given it to code, given it to data.
And ultimately, given it to the people.
"Ethan."
Leo didn’t rush to leave. He placed his hand on the console, his gaze locked on the vast ocean of data on the screen.
"Show me a specific example."
"I want to see the status of Nathan’s construction team from earlier. I want to know what a project looks like from birth to completion within this system."
Ethan nodded, tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and typed in Nathan’s name.
The image on the large screen changed instantly.
The macro-level city map faded away, replaced by a clear timeline.
"These are all the major milestones of Nathan’s projects in Pittsburgh," Marcus added from the side.
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