Crisis- 2038

by Gerald Huff

  “Look,” said Dylan, “if we want to create more good jobs, I’ve got an easy solution. We’ve got crumbling infrastructure all over this country. If we just invested in fixing that—which, by the way is good for business, too—we’d put tens of thousands of people back to work.”

  “Where are you going to get the money to do that?” asked Esteban.

  “Well, it seems to me the wealthy could be paying more of their fair share.”

  “The wealthy already pay eighty percent of all federal taxes. You want them to pay one hundred percent?”

  “Look,” said Harry, “none of you are being realistic. Zach, you say millions of jobs are open. True, but that’s a tiny percentage of the people who are working and unemployed. Dylan, tens of thousands of jobs is a drop in the bucket given tens of millions of under- and unemployed people. And guess what? I’ve got companies in Ohio that make completely automated road resurfacing and bridge-repair robots. Have you driven by a construction site recently? There are hardly any people. And the factories that make this equipment are highly automated. Emily, I agree that our working families are struggling. But if you raise the minimum wage, the economics of the more cost-efficient machines just gets more and more compelling. It accelerates the problem.”

  Esteban said, “I see more and more people taking the entrepreneurial path. Sure, big companies are using more and more automation. But small businesses are the lifeblood of the economy. We need to liberate more and more people to start their own businesses.”

  “But who are their customers going to be when fewer and fewer people have any income?” asked Dylan.

  Michele observed the back and forth dispassionately. Despite her warnings, each side of the room was sticking to their favorite talking points on technology, jobs, and the economy. She let them have their say. It was hard for them, she knew. So many talk shows, so many donor conversations, so many fundraising appeals. The talking points were like the gospel, or the Ten Commandments, a fundamental guide to a way of thinking and being.

  “Excellent,” she finally said at around nine o’clock, during a brief pause in the arguments. “We’ve made good progress.”

  “What?” exclaimed an exasperated Emily McCutcheon. “We haven’t agreed on a single solution.”

  “Exactly,” Michele replied. “So now you all understand that sticking to your respective party platforms will never solve this problem. The country is divided and the Congress is divided. No one is ever going to achieve the complete control necessary to force their agenda. The only way forward is with some bold new thinking. With new ideas that aren’t associated with one side or the other.” She looked at them each in turn. “Let’s take a break and then start the real meeting, the one where no one gets to mention any of the ideas you all just threw past each other.”

  Eyes widened around the table. “That’s right,” she said firmly. “The next session will identify only things you all agree on, and only new ideas for solving these problems.”

  “Okay then,” Michele began fifteen minutes later. “Let’s start with some agreements. I’ll take notes on the whiteboard while you identify some things you all agree on.”

  “You can put your marker away, Ms. Rodriguez,” said Rebecca defiantly. “I don’t think we’re going to agree on anything.”

  “Oh, that seems very unlikely, Senator Matheson. For example, are you in all in favor of converting to a well-demonstrated model of successful governance over the last few generations, a Chinese-style single-party autocracy?”

  “Of course not!” exclaimed Rebecca.

  “Well, what about converting to a European style multi-party parliamentary system?” Michele continued.

  “No, we like our representative democracy just fine,” said Dylan. Heads nodded around the room.

  “OK, then, it sounds like I can put ‘representative democracy’ on the board as the first agreement. What’s next?”

  In the silence that followed Michele could see the wheels turning, but mostly spinning. It was a sign of the times that six intelligent and well-meaning people had to think so hard to come up with common, foundational ideas on which they could build together.

  Finally, she decided to prompt them again. “And I suppose all of you would prefer an economic system composed entirely of state-run enterprises and central planning?”

  There was a resounding “no!” to this question.

  “Of course not. I think we all believe in free-market capitalism,” said Zach Keller.

  “Not pure free-market capitalism,” corrected Emily.

  “What do you mean by ‘pure’?” asked Esteban.

  “I mean markets that operate without any regulation whatsoever.”

  “OK, I agree with that,” said Esteban. “Markets need a limited set of rules that all the players abide by. A limited set of rules. Not what we have right now.”

  Michele took notes on the whiteboard, prompting the six of them periodically to focus on areas of agreement. As she expected, the more they did it, the easier it became.

  “Let’s discuss this free-market capitalist system with limited, appropriate regulation,” she said. “What are the essential elements you can all agree on that makes this system possible and self-perpetuating?”

  “The key is encouraging ongoing investment,” Zach. “That means low taxes on capital gains.”

  Harry said, “That’s the tail wagging the dog. People only invest in something if they think there’s going to be a return, right? You put money into a business because you think it will grow and create profits. How is that business going to grow? How does any business grow?”

  “Obviously,” Esteban said, “by creating a product or service people want at a price they’re willing to pay.”

  “Exactly. Every business investment requires customers—customers with the money to buy the product or service. So the most fundamental aspect of a market economy is the existence of customers with money.”

  “That seems kind of obvious,” said Rebecca.

  “It’s obvious,” noted Esteban, “but I see where Harry is going. Without enough people with money, and a willingness to spend it, the economy slows down.”

  “Yes,” said Dylan. “And with median wages falling and the middle class eviscerated, where are all the customers? That’s the point I was trying to make earlier.”

  “This fits in exactly with our topic today,” Emily said, making the connection. “As automation reduces the number of jobs, people have less money to spend, slowing down the economy.”

  “Yes, that makes sense,” said Zach. “I agree that we need to get more money into the hands of consumers. They need to find jobs. Higher-paying jobs.”

  “But what are those jobs?” asked Emily. “We have more than two hundred million working-age adults in the U.S. today. Less than half of them are in traditional full-time employment. Sure, we need scientists and engineers and designers and management leaders. But have you looked at the Bureau of Labor Statistics data lately? Those jobs make up less than eight percent of all employment. They’re also the most enabled by newer technology. A single engineer with today’s tools can do the work of ten engineers from five years ago. There are a tiny number of high-skill jobs available, but most jobs are in personal services, which are the lowest-paying jobs. And those are increasingly subject to automation, too.”

  “So you’re saying more education and skills training aren’t going to help?” asked Rebecca.

  Michele noted the edge of concern in her voice—the sound of long-held beliefs fraying at the edges.

  “I’m afraid not. The machines are improving too fast.”

  “Then what are we going to do about it?” asked Dylan. “How do we stop machines from taking all the jobs?”

  “You almost sound like those LKC terrorists,” Zach said. “Stopping technological progress isn’t the answer. Over the long run, technology is the only thing that can raise our standard of living.”

&nb
sp; Dylan’s face reddened and his hands clenched the edge of the wooden table.

  “No one here is a terrorist,” said Harry quickly. “There’s no need for that kind of provocation. I agree with your statement, Zach, but every new technology has also had side effects and unintended consequences that we’ve had to deal with. I’m not saying we should stop progress, but we do need to deal with its consequences. The consequence of smarter and smarter and more physically agile machines is that there is simply less need for human labor.”

  “Well we should create jobs for people anyway,” said Dylan.

  “Uggh!” Esteban exclaimed. “Like digging ditches and filling them in again? What a waste of human potential! I go back to entrepreneurship. People can participate in the sharing, app, data, and craft economies.”

  “Have you looked at the data for those sectors?” asked Harry. “The vast, vast majority of entrepreneurs fail. And those who do succeed barely eke out a living. Only a tiny, tiny percentage make it big. Especially with the digital goods economy, there’s a winner-take-all distribution of success. Look at music. You’ve got the top twenty acts making tens of millions and hundreds of thousands of struggling artists just scraping by. Yes, with technology they can get an audience never possible before. But that technology also means the audience gets fragmented into millions of pieces, so each artist gets a very small following.”

  Michele raised her hand. “If I may, senators. Before getting into solutions, what I wrote up was that there was agreement that a properly regulated free-market capitalist system, first and foremost, needs the ongoing circulation of money between consumers and businesses and investors. And that automation threatens to break down this circulation because it’s harder for people to hold jobs that provide them with steady incomes. Anything to add?”

  “Yes,” said Emily. “There’s another implication of automation. More of the gains are going to a tiny percentage of people, which has led to huge wealth and income inequality. And the money that goes to the very wealthy isn’t circulating in the economy.”

  “So, you’re in favor of enforced income and wealth equality?” challenged Rebecca.

  “Of course not,” replied Emily brusquely. “Some people need incentives to work hard and earn differential rewards. But it’s gotten outrageously out of whack. Ordinary people feel like the system is rigged against them. They lose faith in society, and that’s when you get the social unrest we’re seeing. Like the riot in Mississippi in September and the one last month in Oklahoma.”

  Zach said, “But the wealthy are the ones who create jobs by investing in the economy.”

  “Zach, we just went over this,” said Harry. “The wealthy do not invest to create jobs. With more and better automation, they can invest in companies that don’t create jobs, but still generate high returns. Mostly the wealthy are desperate to invest in assets they think will increase in value. This inevitably creates asset bubbles.”

  Michele sought to keep things in check. “So,” she interrupted, “do you all agree that providing opportunities for differential income and wealth is important, but that extreme inequality can be dangerous to social stability and pull money out of circulation?”

  The group seemed to assent, so she added it to the list.

  “Well, I hope you’re all pleased with what you’ve come up with,” she announced. “Look at this set of fundamental agreements. This is a foundation we can build on. Let’s break for an early lunch.”

  As the senators began pushing back their chairs, Michele added, “I have just one rule. Do not continue the brainstorming over lunch. No discussing politics, policy, or Washington gossip. I want you to talk only about yourselves and your families.”

  The six senators looked surprised, but accepted the constraint.

  Michele knew she had to get them engaged with each other as people, not politicians, if the rest of the day was to succeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  LOS ANGELES - NOVEMBER 17

  Tenesha pinched herself every day to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She and Nate had become an inseparable couple since the founding of the LAU chapter, and she had never felt more blessed. Today they were manning the Sara’s Message chapter table on the org walk, a famous stretch of campus where organizations set up tables trying to attract new members. Despite the digitization of everything, this was one real-life tradition that still held on.

  A monitor showed rotating stills and clips from Sara’s VR program and her town hall meetings, with a banner across the top saying “Tap Into The Future!” Passing students could tap their PNAs against the NFC reader to register for membership.

  A young woman veered over to the table and pulled out her earbuds. “Hey! You peeps with Sara?”

  “Hi, I’m Tenesha and this is Nate. Yes, we started the Sara’s Message chapter here at LAU.”

  “Very cool. I’m a fan. Lady’s super smart.”

  “Want to tap in and join us?” asked Nate.

  “You bet!” The woman tapped her PNA on their reader. “You sending regular updates to members?”

  “Yes,” said Tenesha. “We’ve got a weekly cast. Can you help us recruit?”

  “Maybe. Kinda busy with other orgs.”

  Tenesha nodded her understanding. “We’re organizing a march next month in Sacramento. Hope you can make it!” she shouted at the woman, who had already headed off to another table.

  “Serial joiner,” complained Nate. “Probably resume stuffing. Wouldn’t count on a lot of activity from her.”

  “Oh, hush. Everyone we sign up gets us closer to the target, so we can invite Sara to campus.” She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

  “Hey,” he cried in mock protest, “we’re supposed to be working here!” He smiled and nodded to her left. “Another customer.”

  Tenesha turned and saw a male student approaching. “Hi, I’m Tenesha. You know about Sara?”

  “Sara, from that VR program?”

  “Yes, Sara Dhawan.”

  “Yeah, sorry, didn’t make it all the way through that one. So what’s this about?”

  “We’re an organization dedicated to promoting Sara’s message about a way forward for our country and all of humanity.”

  “Whoa, sounds deep. Sorry, haven’t got time, late for class.”

  A moment later a group of three young men approached wearing retro pocket protectors. Engineering types. “Oh, man, that Sara VR crushed it!” said one of them.

  “The texture mapping was intense!” agreed his friend. “What’s this org about? Is it advanced VR tech?”

  “No,” answered Nate. “This is about the message in her VR. That tech is awesome, but we need society to adjust to the new reality.”

  “What reality?”

  “That more and more work will be done by machines and software, so there’s less and less work for people to do, so we need a way to keep the economy going with fewer human jobs.”

  “Ha! Tell that to the recruiting bots that keep calling me. Ain’t no shortage of jobs in atomically precise manufacturing research.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Tenesha, “Sara’s not saying there will be no jobs. There will always be highly specialized jobs, but there won’t be enough of them for billions of people worldwide.”

  “I feel that,” said one of the engineers, tapping his reader. “I’m in.”

  “Great! We’re organizing a march in Sacramento next month, are you interested?”

  “A march? Like out in public?”

  “Well, yes, it’s not going to be a VR event. We’re going to take buses up there and demand action from the state legislature and governor. You’ll get a message about the event since you tapped in.”

  “Sorry, buds, no can do. Once you get face rec from police surveillance at a public protest, those recruiter bot calls dry up. Happened to a buddy of mine. Worst thing is, he was just walking by the damn thing, wasn’t even really part of it. Tried for months to get
his name purged from the police database.” He smiled. “Good luck, though.”

  Tenesha and Nate had reasonable success in getting recruits to tap in, but they only had one student all afternoon who expressed interest in a march.

  Nate had to attend a late class, so they split up at five and Tenesha took the bus back to her apartment, frustrated at their inability to motivate students to do more than the bare minimum.

  After throwing her bag on the bed, Tenesha sat down at her desk and pulled on her VR headset. “Play Sara VR in hologram mode,” she said to the computer.

  The black screens in her visor turned transparent, and after a moment, Sara appeared in her room.

  “Hello, Tenesha,” said Sara. “Namaste.”

  “Hi Sara.”

  “May I sit down?”

  “Of course, you can sit on the bed.” Sara stepped around a pile of clothes and sat down.

  “From your heart rate and brain scan, I get the sense you are upset,” said Sara, looking concerned. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m frustrated, Sara. We’re signing people up to our chapter, but they don’t want to take any action.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Oh, they have lots of excuses. Too much school work. Not enough time. Afraid of being tagged in police databases.”

  Sara’s character just nodded. Tenesha had noticed that when the program was confronted with new information, it took a while for it to process and respond.

  “It is difficult to motivate people to act,” said Sara finally. “Either they need to be desperate and angry, and have nothing to lose, or there needs to be an event that shocks the conscience of people who are otherwise not paying attention. Like the brutal police attacks on the Selma marchers in 1965.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think people are that desperate yet. Or maybe they are, but they don’t seem to be blaming the existing power structure. It’s like they’ve been convinced it’s their own fault.”