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Part 5

The night before the barbeque, Stephan had reflected some more on his decision to quit the collective. He had an almost blind faith in honesty in business, and he had faith the answer to why he was running could be found in that decision to quit. Now, standing there in his living room looking out at the skyblack ocean, his barefeet heated by the radiator, he could almost grasp it, feeling it just out of his reach, the words lying hidden on the wrong side of the brain-tongue circuit. He hoped it would come to him in time, but he’d bring a copy of Bob’s speech just in case.

Stephan saw men and women dressed California-casually wander around smoking pits, collecting hot dogs and hamburgers. He saw them move from the pits to the condiments table and tried to determine a structured pattern to the crowd’s motion. He watched in amazement for a few minutes, bewildered that near-200 people had shown up at a cost to themselves on a Saturday morning. He wondered how many of them were here only for the photo-op, and how long pictures would be enough to attract attendance at these events, photo-realistic picture editing technology being where it was. A well-done fake was already almost indistinguishable from the genuine thing.

Jack tapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll be OK, sir. I’ll walk next to you and whisper to you the names of anyone you should know.”

“Shit! People ought to be born with their names stamped on their chests.”

Jack directed Stephan subtly through the crowd to the important people. At an event like this barbeque, Stephan would be meeting most people for the first time, so nonrecognition would be expected. But every now and then, they ran into a VIP, like David Silverman or Debbie Matterson-Feltz, the two party officials who Stephan had first approached about running. Stephan would recognize their look of recognition, they would stick their hand out and pause awkwardly as Jack whispered in Stephan’s ear.

It was soon time for Stephan to take his place behind the podium. They needed a few minutes to set up the sound, and Stephan used that time to rifle through his paper copy of Bobby’s speech. It hit him all at once. More than he cared about lying to the investors, Stephan had cared about lying to the public, reinforcing the flawed and incorrect idea of an out-of-reach elite innovating where nobody else could. Everyone had potential and anyone could innovate. He could stand up for everyone and anyone.

“I’m running to be the anyone candidate,” he said into the mic. “Because with a little push, anyone can do better, for themselves, for their families.”

Before he had considered that the consequences of what he was doing might include a lawsuit, he kept talking. “I’ve never said this before, but the reason I quit the Future Founder’s collective was because the algorithm didn’t work, and I didn’t want to keep lying about it. That was our big secret – it didn’t matter who we picked. Good ideas can come from anyone, no matter their age, race, or where they went to school. Everyone has potential, no matter where they live, no matter where they come from. What matters most is the support they’re given, by their families, by their communities.”

He looked at a man in the first row, his eyes hopeful but narrowing, determined, and he knew he was giving the right speech. “I want to apply that lesson to politics – with a little backing and support, and a lot of hard work, each of us can be great. Each of us can excel at being fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters. Each of us can be innovators, creators, creative thinkers. Each of us has deep possibilities in us. But our country’s freedom of opportunity only means something if the gates to freedom open as wide for everyone. If we aren’t held back by expensive medical bills, and if we don’t have to spend all of our time looking for a job we don’t want that will probably be automated in the next few years anyway.” Stephan paused a beat and saw a lot of heads nodding in agreement.

“We must aspire to make a society in which we are capable of being productive, making things that we can be proud of, that we can call our own. We can do it with something I call socialist libertarianism. The government takes care of the things everybody needs – transportation, healthcare, a universal basic income – and you do the rest. Then you choose what you want to do, no paternal government stage-managing your life before it gives you a boost up.”

Stephan recognized the choices he had made this morning that got him here today, from the self-ironed black blazer and hastily-chosen blue tie to the Honey Nut Cheerios and bagel he eats every morning to the black luxury sports car he bought on a whim.

“You don’t want to be forced into a job training program – for a job that’ll probably be automated in five years anyway – to get your unemployment. And you shouldn’t have to choose between seeing the doctor and having money, because everybody gets sick.”

He raised his voice for the final next sentence. “Elect me your Senator, and let us work together to unleash our potential of prosperity through more freedom of choice.”

The speech finished to much cheering and applause. Stephan regretted, as he shook hands and posed for photographs, that he could not recognize any of the faces in the long line of smiling, sweaty attendees.

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