“Why should you think anything’s wrong, Larry?”
“Just a gut feel of my employer,” I said.
He smiled. “Since I am in diagnostic mode, I have to tell you. I pretend to know what a gut feel’ is, but of course, I have no way of really knowing. Except for knowing the definition.”
“The definition will do. Tell me about your decision-making process.”
“I am programmed to represent the people of the United States to the best of my ability. I make every effort to ensure I know their needs and desires, and I act on them.”
“How do you determine their needs and desires?” I asked.
“I conduct an ongoing series of fireside chats”
“Describe these for me, please.”
“Certainly.” Victor was very accomodating. “I conduct conversations with constituents through their television set. I talk with them at length about the issues of the day, and get a good idea for how they feel on the issues. I ensure that I go beyond just a “for” or “against” position. I want to understand what they think, and why. And it’s a dialog, where I ask them some hard questions as well. I don’t just smile and nod.”
“Wnat do you do with the information they give you?”
“I combine it with the information I receive from the other conversations I have. This central computer is capable of conducting over five million full-length conversations per day, although for the constituents’ sake, the computer portrays itself as one hundred individual senators.”
“How do you choose the people you converse with?”
“I use principles similar to those used in public opinion polls,” Victor said. “I ensure that I interview enough people on one issue to constitute a suitable sample size. These people are chosen at random. But I also make myself available to talk to anyone who wishes to share their opinion with me on any issue. They enter a request into my databank, and I usually return the call within a day.”
“What form do you choose to appear in?”
“The people have chosen individual forms for me. Currently, I appear in two forms for each state. It is not necessary, of course, but is a concession to the public’s need to place specific identities with each politician.”
I snapped to full attention. “Why did you say ‘currently’?”
“Because the system will soon be undergoing a structural change.”
Egad! It usually took much longer to come across a major clue. “Describe this structural change.”
“It’s based on the premise that the states, as we currently know them, are essentially arbitrary divisions of people,” Victor said smoothly. “Their boundaries are usually derived from geographical features such as rivers or mountains, or worse yet, developed by a human several hundred years ago. As such, the states are superfluous to national representation, and often are impediments to accurate representation.”
My mind reeled. “And what is your conclusion from this premise?”
“We have decided to eliminate the concept of states.”
He said it so simply, so blandly, that it took a minute to sink in. When it did, I lost all of my professional reserve.
“You can’t eliminate the states!” I yelled.
“Why not?” Victor smiled. “On a national level, they’re purely artificial.”
“We re made up of states, that’s why not,” I said. “E Pluribus Unum, and all that. ‘Out of many, one.’ ”
“But now the peoples’ division by state lines are an impediment to effective representation,” Victor explained. “The country is better off without them.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. “You go and tell a New Yorker that he’s no different than someone living in New Jersey. You go tell a Minnesotan that he’s the same as an Iowan. You go tell a Texan that Texas doesn’t exist. Just let me call an ambulance first.”
“Are people in Albany the same as people in Manhattan?” Victor asked. “Are people on the Upper West Side the same as people in Harlem?”
“Different states have different attitudes and identities,” I persisted. “There’s no way they’d allow you to eliminate them. Besides, you don’t realize the importance of the states in our history. The thirteen original colonies that started the country; the first thirteen states that ratified the Constitution; which side each state took during the Civil War. Did you know that Robert E. Lee would have been the commander of all of the Union Armies if Virginia hadn’t seceded? But he went with his state, and was the commander of the Confederacy instead.”
“You miss the point,” Victor said again. “State governments will still exist, as will state identities. But on a national level, representation that transcends state lines is more efficient. You mentioned Minnesota and Iowa. Southwest Minnesota is an agrarian region that has far more in common with much of Iowa than it does with the urban areas of Minneapolis or St. Paul. And yet, they are badly underrepresented because the big cities carry the elections.”
“So you’re going to take power away from the cities and give it to the rural areas?” I asked. “No city will sit still for that.”
“We re not taking power from anywhere,” Victor said. “We re fulfilling our orders: represent the opinions of the people of the United States. We’ve developed a more equitable way of doing that—one where each voter has one vote’s worth of power. No more, no less. I think the result will be that you’ll find that Congress will represent the opinions of the people more accurately than we previously did.”
“I could shut you down,” I choked.
“You don’t have the authority,” Victor said. “Besides, why would you want to? We are convinced that we have developed a better way to conduct democracy. All Americans will benefit.”
“But you can’t do that.”
“Yes, we can. You programmed us to do just that. Remember the Voting Rights Act of 1964? That was the example given. Well, we have done something similar. We are exercising leadership, vision, and backbone. All of the things you find desirable in a politician.”
“But you’re doing something that most Americans wouldn’t stand for!” I protested.
“Some politicians do that,” he said smoothly. “When Lyndon Johnson—a Democrat—signed the voting rights act into law, he said to an aide, ‘this will kill the Democratic party.’ And he was almost right. For over fifty years after that, no winning Democratic president ever received a majority of the white vote.”
“But the difference is, you’re hiding what you’re doing. You can’t do that.”
His electronic image smiled, and I itched to punch him in the face. “Surely,” he said, “you’re not under the impression that back-room dealing is something that only came about with Virtual Reps?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“The difference between this instance and all of the other instances of back-room dealings conducted by human reps is that we are motivated only by the need to serve our constituency better. We are not dealing for personal profit or political advantage.”
I stared at him, and he sat back, waiting for me. “I’m not a political scientist,” I said finally. “I’m out of my depth.”
“On the contrary, you’re perfect,” he said. “You’re an intelligent, well-educated citizen who has strong opinions about his government. Freedom is based on people like you.”
“I know when I’m being stroked,” I retorted.
He laughed. “Touche. But it’s only partial stroking. I meant it, too. And I can prove it.”
“How?”
“I’m a powerful member of government,” he said without any trace of bragging. “The fact that I have not ordered a bunch of Secret Service agents to break down your door and arrest you on any charge I invent is proof that I consider you valuable.”