A More Perfect Union
by Doug Larsen
Illustration by Dell Harris
Commuting in Silicon Valley hasn’t improved with time. Basically, it still stinks, and basically, I was in a lousy mood when I finally got to work. I had too much to do to be stuck in freaking traffic jams for an hour. I’d have to reschedule the meeting with the head of the company—a career-limiting move if there ever was one—and be making apologies all day to everyone else for not having supplied my input on their ideas.
Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gotten that freaking promotion. Being the Director of Programming for Data Security Services was turning out to be a pain in the butt.
I hurried in from the parking lot and hustled down the hall toward my corner office that was supposed to compensate me for the ulcer I was developing. I tore into my outer office, snapped “Good morning, sorry I’m late,” to my secretary, who was sitting very still, and ran right into two huge dudes with dark suits and dark sunglasses who were blocking my door.
“Sorry about that,” I said, trying to be polite. “Excuse me, I’m running late.”
“Mr. Eckstrom?” one of them asked.
“Look, I’m in a hurry, all right?”
“Mr. Larry Eckstrom?” he persisted, not moving at all. His partner did move, though, to block me when I tried to dodge around him.
“Yeah, I’m Larry Eckstrom,” I said in exasperation. “I don’t have an appointment with you guys, do I?”
“No sir.”
I opened my mouth to order them out of my way, but they both did some kind of magic act, and produced badges. “Mr. Eckstrom,” the guy intoned, “your country needs you.”
I stared at him. “Huh?” I said brilliantly. I looked at the badges. United States Treasury department. I knew enough to know that that meant they were with the Secret Service.
“We need you to accompany us to Washington D.C. immediately.”
Yeah, right. “Listen, guys, this is fun, but I’m a real busy guy, OK?”
They didn’t budge. “I am authorized to insist, Mr. Eckstrom.”
I looked them over. They were big. They were probably armed. And who knew what they were legally entitled to do? “My boss—” I started.
“—Has been informed,” the guy interrupted.
“And he OK’d this?” I asked disbelievingly.
“It was the only option offered him,” the guy said simply. It sounded plenty ominous to me.
The outer door opened, and the Boss-man himself came in, looking pale. “Larry, there you are.”
“Hi, Ralph. You’ve met these guys?”
“Yeah, we’ve met. You’re going to Washington, Larry.”
I looked around the room. My secretary still hadn’t moved. “I can’t believe you OK’d this, Ralph.”
“Are you kidding? Look at these guys! They could probably put me in a concentration camp in Siberia! Just do whatever they say, and get back here as soon as you can.”
I looked at the two guys again. “What’s all this about?” I asked.
“I’m not authorized to say, sir.”
Can I pack some clothes?”
“No sir.”
Gad! “Can I call my wife?”
“Yes sir. From Washington, sir.”
I’ve never been on a private jet before, and it was kind of cool. Of course, the two Human Meat-axes didn’t enliven the atmosphere, but I could handle it. Several of my programmers didn’t have much of a personality either.
“So you swear I’m not in any trouble?” I asked again.
“Yes, sir.”
“But you can’t tell me what this is about.”
“No, sir.”
“But it’s for the country?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I’m the only one who can save it?”
“Yes, sir.”
I digested this information while looking out the window. “Cool,” I finally proclaimed.
They didn’t even blink.
I tried to laugh to break the tension. “Listen, guys, there’s no way you’ve got the right guy. I can’t save the country. I can’t even save leftovers. What you’re after is some kind of trained spy or something, right? James Bond? Bruce Lee?”
“You are Larry Eckstrom, Director of Programming for Data Security Systems?” the first guy asked.
“That’s me,” I admitted.
“Then we have the right person.”
They seemed very sure of that.
Washington D.C. was hot and sticky, I noticed as they hustled me out of the jet and into a long, black stretch limo. I could get used to that kind of luxury real quick, let me tell you. But the curiosity and the growing nervousness made it hard to enjoy. I looked at the guy who was rubbing knees with me. “Who the hell are you?” I asked.
“I’m Leon Chang, the Director of the Federal Election Commission.”
“Wowee, a bigshot!” 1 said in mock admiration. “Maybe you can give me some answers about what’s going on around here.”
“I’d be happy to. Can I call you Larry?”
The limo pulled into a parking garage under a big building. Armed guards were standing outside.
“Sure,” I said faintly. “Just don’t call me late for parole.”
Leon let me call my wife, and then explained as we ate in a private drawing room. “Let me just assure you, Larry, that you’re not in any trouble.”
“That’s comforting to hear.”
“You have unique skills we need. That the country needs.”
“You’ve gotta be more specific,” I said as I gored a tomato wedge with my fork.
“OK, fine. I’ll start at the beginning. You’re familiar with America’s system of government?”
“Enough to be dangerous,” I said. “I know enough to leave the room whenever someone starts with a ‘this is a Republic, not a Democracy, dammit’ speech.”
“Well, as you know, the line between the two has become somewhat blurry these days,” Leon said. “You’re old enough to remember the Virtual Revolution, right?”
“Sure. The year 2059. The year when the average citizens of the country rose up and threw the bums out.”
“Concise, but not completely accurate,” Leon said. “To review. That was the year that two-thirds of the states ratified the Election Reform Amendment, implementing sweeping changes in how our government worked. The biggest change, of course, was eliminating human senators and representatives, and replacing them with sophisticated computer programs.”
“Sure. Virtual Reps. Great idea.”
“Why?” Leon encouraged.
“Well, basically, a computer program isn’t going to be caught in a motel with a hooker. A computer program isn’t going to spend most of its time assuring its reelection. It won’t charge the taxpayers for its kids’ daycare, salary and living expenses, and most important, it won’t drop its pants and spread its legs to any lobbyist or special interest group that waves a big enough wad of cash. Lastly, the computer program more accurately represents the opinions of a state’s population. It used to be that one party nominated someone who was too conservative, the other party nominated someone who was too liberal, and the population had to choose. The computer programs are more able to gravitate toward the middle. Basically, a computer program will represent the people it is assigned to represent. Revolutionary concept, but kind of a nice one.”
“You’ve put it in a nutshell,” Leon approved. “So why did it take so long to implement?”
“You know this better than I do, but what the hell?” I said. “First, nobody in Congress would sponsor the amendment, so it took a long time to get it placed on ballots in all of the states. Then, when two-thirds of the states ratified it, the fat cats in Congress didn’t like it at all, so it went to the Supreme Court, which upheld the constitutionality of the amendment. And then there was all of the programming to do.”