“I have a hunch lying’s a lot like that—just an easy way for people to get what they think they want. I bet we can teach people not to lie by taking away the payoff, the same way my parents finally taught Leonard not to cry and to go to sleep by himself.”
“Just like elephants in the circus!” Diana added.
Gaddis asked her what she meant.
“They tie baby elephants to a small stake in the ground with a rope. When the elephants grow to adult size and could easily uproot the stake, they never try. We might be the same way about telling the truth. Right now there’s nothing like that stake in the ground to train us to be honest. As small children, we discover lying sometimes works, so it becomes habit. But if we never got away with it as children, we might be incapable of deceit as adults. Or we might learn not to want things we’d have to lie in order to get.”
“That’s probably true,” David said. “It’s human nature to seek a comfort zone. We’re lazy by nature—creatures of habit. Lying is a bad habit. Maybe telling the truth could become habitual, too. We could condition ourselves to become uncomfortable whenever we lie, by making sure nobody ever gets away with lying as children.”
“That sounds dreadful,” interjected Scoggins. “I certainly hope nobody ever invents a machine like that. Suppose my favorite aunt points the truth machine at me and asks if I like the shirt she gave me for Christmas. What do I say if I hate it?”
David had an answer ready. “Truthfulness doesn’t preclude tact. I’d just say to her, ‘Not really, but I love you.’ More likely, though, she’d learn never to ask a question unless she wants an honest answer. If that’s your biggest downside, you can strap me to that old truth machine any time you want—as long as everybody else has to tell the truth, too.”
David thought of the way his father’s self-deceit and ability to deceive others had ruined his life and hurt everyone he came in contact with. “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that a truth machine would solve 100 problems for every one it created.”
“That’s ridiculous!” exclaimed Scoggins. “We’d all better pray it never happens. Doesn’t anybody here believe in the right to privacy? Or in simple human trust?”8
Immediately after class, Scoggins called out, “Pete, you have a minute?”
“Sure. W-What’s up, Charles?”
“I know you do software consulting for companies, but I was wondering if you’ve ever thought about doing it for yourself. You could make hundreds of times as much money mass-marketing the software you write.”
“I’ve th-thought about it. Why do you ask?”
“Maybe we should start a business together. I know a lot about marketing and I have some pretty interesting ideas.”
“I d-don’t know. I think I already know what I want to do with my life. I’m pretty sure I’d l-like to try to build a truth m-machine. I know y-you consider it a t-terrible idea, but I think it could k-keep the human race from self-destructing.”
Scoggins’s expression was earnest. “Well, I’m not sure I share your faith, but good luck anyway, Pete. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Okay, I w-will. Th-thanks.”
Pete spent much of that evening and most of the following day concentrating on the ramifications of a perfect truth machine. He skipped several of his classes. Settling into the zone, he carefully analyzed the effects the machine could have on each important aspect of civilization.
The next afternoon at the Kong, David inquired, “Why’d’ya skip Theo-Soc today?”
“I was trying to decide what to do with my life,” Pete answered.
“And?” Diana asked.
“As soon as I finish school I’m putting a team together to try to build a foolproof truth machine.”
“I don’t think Charles Scoggins would enjoy hearing you say that,” David joked.
Diana laughed. “No, he didn’t seem terribly enthusiastic about the idea. But he’d better get used to it. I’m sure it’ll be an easy project for our favorite genius.”
“Anything but. It could be one of the most difficult scientific projects in history.”
“Really?” David asked, still not sure whether Pete was serious. “If we can catalog the human genome, why can’t we build a truth machine?”
“We could if enough focus was applied to it. There was plenty of interest in the genome project, and lots of money available.”
“How complicated will it be?” Diana asked.
“Imagine the average organ in your body as a bicycle. In terms of comparative complexity, your brain would be a spaceship—that’s how much more intricate it is. Other than deterioration, a person’s organs remain largely the same throughout a lifetime, but the brain is always transforming itself. Each person has a unique set of brain-wave patterns but, unlike DNA or fingerprints, brain-wave patterns are constantly evolving as neurons, dendrites, and synapses form new links—for as long as the person lives.”
“Brings new meaning to the expression ‘changing your mind,’” Diana said.
David smiled. “Then how can you be sure if a truth machine’s achievable, Pete?”
“I know it’s scientifically possible and probably less complex than cataloging the human genome, which has already been done. I’d say it’s more a question of when than if. But so far, few people realize the benefits a perfect truth machine would contribute to civilization. Nobody has even tried to build one. At the current pace of discovery, it could be 50 or 75 years before the scientific community pulls it off. The human race might not survive until then.”
“Do you really believe that?” Diana asked.
“Absolutely,” Pete said. “Think about the dynamics. As science advances, it will become easier and easier for countries, then fringe groups and terrorist organizations, and eventually, lone individuals, to kill enormous numbers of people. Psychologists estimate that sociopaths make up between 5 and 10 percent of society, and world population is growing fast. That means there are at least 300 million sociopaths now, and that number is increasing every day. Sociopaths tend to be bright and are often very charming-even charismatic. Most aren’t dangerous, but many are, especially if they’re angry. Often we can’t even identify sociopaths, much less determine their intentions. Eventually some of these people will have the capacity to end all life on earth; it’s only a matter of time. Until we build a truth machine.”
“How long would it take you?”
“I’m guessing 15 to 20 years, and it’ll cost at least several hundred million dollars. But I really think I can do it. And when I do, it’ll change absolutely everything.”
Now neither of them laughed. They knew he wasn’t joking.
CHAPTER 11
THE DEBATES
Quincy House
October 23, 2004—Violent crime continue number one political issue in America. The Republican National Committee bombards the media with reports and statistics for the previous 12-month period, showing over 22 million reported violent crimes, 72,416 of which were homicides, and 2,408,644 convicted criminals incarcerated in state and federal prisons.—American Telephone & Telegraph (AT&T) files for Chapter 7 bankruptcy. The company, which failed to earn a profit in any of the previous 14 fiscal quarters, fell victim to intense competition and price wars as other long-distance communications companies priced services based on marginal costs in a shrinking market. Businesses and individuals conduct a growing percentage of worldwide audio-visual communications over the Internet, free of charge. In spite of the bankruptcy, most long-term AT&T stockholders have reaped solid returns from their investments because of the company’s numerous spinoffs from 1995 through 2002.—The entire world watches as Treasury Secretary Audrey Whitcomb and Senator Travis Hall (R.CT) campaign during the final weeks of their battle for the United States presidency. In the minds of most citizens, a vote for Travis Hall is also a vote for his controversial Swift and Sure Anti-Crime Bill. Will the voters opt for personal safety over individual rights and due process of law?
With polls projecting Hall will receive nearly 60 percent of the popular vote, it looks as if they will.
Pete tried to curl the 15-pound barbell once more, but it might as well have weighed 200 pounds; he was spent. David had taught him to start with normal weight, continuing reps in a steady rhythm with good form until fatigue, then to remove a plate from each side and repeat. He had prescribed at least four sets with no rest in between. It was grueling, but it worked. Pete had gained 18 pounds of muscle over the past year.
David’s knowledge of exercise, nutrition, and fitness was exhaustive. Pete had read every book on the subject in the Quincy House library and was amazed by the amount of conflicting and obviously inaccurate information. A lot of these writers are just guessing, he realized, but they all seem so authoritative. How do I tell which ones really know? Yet he had never been able to disprove anything David had told him.
Built in the 1960s, Quincy House was still the newest dormitory for undergraduates at Harvard. The rooms were larger and better-appointed than those in Harvard Yard and many suites had their own bathrooms. For the second year, David and Pete were rooming together at “Quince.” This year they had snagged a two-bedroom suite overlooking Tommy’s Joint and the Harvard Lampoon building. There was plenty of space for gatherings of David’s many friends, and a tiny study where they could hide Skipper on rare occasions when faculty members visited.
The suite was also large enough for Diana Hsu to live there with David most of the time. Her single room down the hall usually remained vacant.
In spite of Diana’s romantic temperament, the doctor’s daughter had a scientific side. Aware of the biochemical components of love, she kept waiting for her feelings for David—and his for her—to change.
“You know, my love,” she had whispered to David that morning as they lay holding each other in the afterglow of lovemaking, “our PEA tolerance is building every day. They say it peaks during the third year. In a few more months you probably won’t find me quite this irresistible.”
(Note: Even during the earliest part of this century, scientists were well aware of the effects of certain natural chemicals on human emotions. The chemical largely responsible for “lover’s high,” phenylethylamine, generally lasts only 22 to 35 months into a relationship before the body builds an immunity. Effective PEA supplements did not become available until December 2029.—22g CP)
“Before I met you, I always used to peak around the third day!” David had answered with a laugh. But watching her face, radiant in the dawn sunlight, he thought to himself, I could never love anyone else the way I love her.
After two years, Diana and David were still in love—for the first time in either of their lives. Yet their feelings for each other had changed significantly. Already this love was based more on friendship, respect, and shared values than on mere physical attraction or phenylethylamine. It was the sort of love that tended to endure.
Diana’s parents had urged her to go to medical school. In fact, she had enrolled as pre-med but had changed her major, to her father’s dismay. Government and what it could do for people excited her as medicine never could. Intending to go into government service, both David and Diana expected to apply to Harvard Law School the following year. Most likely they would be married by the time they graduated, hopefully with the blessing of Diana’s parents, whom David still hadn’t met.
They talked about the future of law and politics almost constantly—in a way, they already lived in a future world; the past and present meant little to them. Everything they said or did was considered in the context of the future. Intensely ambitious, they both believed they could change the world.
But of all they had in common, the attribute most conspicuously shared was their integrity, nurtured perhaps by an abiding faith in the inevitability of Pete Armstrong’s Truth Machine. Now their every word and deed filtered through the prospect of eventually having to confront what they wryly called “the device,” a sardonic allusion to the atomic bomb that had so drastically changed the human condition during the 20th century. David would explain in an interview for D Magazine (conducted by Tom Mosely, my future owner, several years before I was built), “Believing the Truth Machine was coming didn’t make me choose to be more honest. It just made it easier to resist the temptation to do anything I’d ever have to lie about.”
Pete continued his software consulting, which had actually become more lucrative as companies bid up the price of his time. He invested his money carefully and planned his strategy for building a truth machine, enrolling mostly in courses of neurobiology and business, which had only recently been added to Harvard’s undergraduate curriculum.
He was too shy for dating and, although he had never admitted it to anyone, was still secretly in love with Diana, his best friend’s lover. He continued to fantasize about her and rationalized that since no other female could possibly measure up to her, then why should he bother? And since sex with Diana was impossible, he sublimated his libido with exercise and hard work. Having long ago earned enough credits to graduate, he only stayed at Harvard College for one reason: David West, his best friend and in many ways his mentor.
Still, the relationship remained somewhat awkward. David, ever confident in his judgment of others, had long ago determined that beneath Pete’s shy exterior was a good-hearted person, worthy of his trust and friendship. Insecure in such discernment because of his limited social experience, Pete trusted everyone in general, but no one entirely. Although David shared all his insights and deepest personal feelings with Pete, the 14-year-old often held back, and not just about his craving for Diana. Both were aware of the imbalance and accepted it, David with affectionate humor and Pete with considerable guilt.
Pete barely had time to shower. In a few minutes about 40 of David’s “closest personal friends” would crowd into their suite to watch the second presidential debate between Audrey Whitcomb and Travis Hall. Although by 2004 virtually all programs could be seen on demand, trials, debates, and sporting competitions were still broadcast “live.” Viewing them with other people added to the experience.
Undoubtedly everyone invited would show up. David’s friends always showed up, and they had a better reason tonight. Although primitive by today’s standards, in 2004 Pete’s media system was legendary at Harvard. The entertainment center, manufactured by a joint venture between Eastman Kodak and Motorola, combined ultra-high definition with digital surround sound, and the screen took up an entire wall. It would be like sitting in the front row of the new Ted Turner Auditorium in Atlanta, where the debate was being held. Nobody would miss a word or a bead of sweat on the candidates’ faces.
Soon the room was overflowing. All 43 students, lounging on Pete’s bed or sitting Indian-style on the floor, stared at the screen as the debate began. Pete sat on the front part of the bed with Skipper; the dog remained still and silent while Pete affectionately stroked his back.
David West had no ethnic prejudice and a rare ability to overcome such prejudice in others. Unlike many students at Harvard who kept to their own kind, he had befriended a cross-section of students. Reflecting college demographics nationwide, most of them supported Audrey Whitcomb, a beloved figure in American politics. A former Congresswoman, U.S. Senator (D.VT, 1994- 2000), and incumbent Secretary of the Treasury, Whitcomb was brilliant, articulate, and likable. Many of Travis Hall’s supporters admitted she was more qualified than he to be president.
Three years earlier she had been the principal author and driving force behind H.R. 1918, the first “tax simplification act” that had ever really simplified the tax code. The new code was progressive. It encouraged investment, charitable contributions, and energy conservation and, most important, was easy to understand. Principal tenets included a reduction in the basic and capital gains tax rates, elimination of all but a very few itemized deductions for individuals, elimination of double taxation of corporate earnings paid out as dividends, and a large energy tax partially offset by an increase in the st
andard deduction.
H.R. 1918 also incorporated the Tobias Plan (so named for financial writer Andrew Tobias, who originally conceived and publicized it in the early 1990s), a privately bid national no-fault automobile insurance system. Thanks to the Plan, insurance premiums were no longer collected by the insurance companies themselves, but at gasoline, diesel, and electric recharging stations as part of the price of the fuel. The savings in paperwork, administrative costs, and legal fees from the Tobias Plan alone were staggering; over 100 billion dollars yearly, roughly $340 per capita. Altogether, H.R. 1918 was an ingenious bill that managed to leave nearly all taxpayers, except automobile insurance agents, administrators, accountants, and personal injury lawyers, better off.
By presenting her case directly and eloquently to the American people, she and President Gore had rammed H.R. 1918 through Congress over the objections of most specialinterest groups in America. In the 1990s, to paraphrase Time magazine, lobbyists for special interests and large corporations roamed Washington like grazing beasts—not good, not evil, just hungry. Getting her bill passed intact, without the massive changes suggested by these “grazing beasts,” had been an impressive feat.
Once passed, the new tax code created an economic boom unprecedented in previous American history, and so endeared Secretary Whitcomb to the voting public that she was able to clinch the Democratic party’s nomination barely two-thirds through the first ballot. But the Democratic nomination was a far cry from the presidency.
The Truth Machine Page 9