Something something trigger warning for Commie bullshit.
What can I say. I'm a mixed-race disabled man living in the United States.
If you didn't guess by now that I'm a bit of an anti-capitalist, well, I am.
.
"What do you think of the American Dream?"
It was quite possibly the most loaded question Seto had ever heard someone ask him, and he found himself staring at Kisara like she'd just told him the sun went out. "Excuse me?" he asked. "What brought this on?"
"It's hard not to grow up in a politician's home," Kisara said, "without hearing middle-aged men wax poetic on the subject." She paused, considering. "I simply wondered what your take was. I feel like you would have a . . . let us say, stronger idea of what it means. The child of immigrants, coming up from nothing. By most every metric, you've achieved it. You're one of the richest men in the country."
Seto scowled. "I think it's nonsense," he said, eventually, shaking his head and waving a dismissive hand. "The American Dream is the carrot that my peers hang from their little fishing pole to keep the people beneath them squabbling amongst each other instead of helping each other. A united front is a threat. Why do you think union-busting exists?"
"Wow," said Mokuba, from the other side of the room, without looking up from his Nintendo DS. "If I didn't know better, Niisama, I might call you cynical."
"It's not cynicism to admit the truth," Seto said. "Whatever the American Dream is supposed to be, it's not that anymore. It's become something that most people can't achieve, even though it's sold to them. It's a Pyramid scheme. What did I do, tangibly, to achieve my success? I was lucky enough to pitch a stupid bet to a raging lunatic, and he decided I was a worthy vessel for his bullshit."
"Hey!" Noa shot up in his seat. "That's my father you're talking about. He was a lot of things, but he was not raging. That man couldn't raise his voice to save his life. He perfected the growling whisper to the point where he stopped being able to do anything else."
"And the 'lunatic' part?" Kisara wondered.
"Oh, no," Noa said, "that's true."
Seto rolled his eyes. "Anyway."
"While I respect your honesty," Kisara pressed, "I cannot help but wonder if Mokuba isn't right. Is that not cynicism?"
"It should be," Seto said, "but it isn't. That's the problem. It's what I'm trying to prove here in Domino City. The more everyone has, the more everyone can thrive. I give my employees, and their families, and their communities, actual access to that dream. Let the Ayn Rand devotees crow to themselves about how selfishness is a virtue. It's never done me any favors. If anything, I'd say the worst things that have ever happened in my life happened when I convinced myself that I should prioritize me. If I were to argue purely from personal experience, I'd say selfishness is possibly the single most effective tool for self-sabotage that one can use."
"Chichiue must be rolling in his grave," Noa said, but he didn't sound upset.
"Every time I've given a major donation to a public institution," Seto said, "it's improved the lives of all the people around it. It all radiates outward. Whole neighborhoods can transform. If they just have a platform, from which they can see what the American Dream should look like. What it can be. If I can prove to this city, and just this city, that the best way to chase prosperity is alongside one's community, then I can die satisfied."
"That's rich," Noa said, "coming from the most solitary and introverted son of a bitch I've ever met."
"I never said I wasn't part of the problem," Seto said.
