Considering that the Wests were Democrats, they had amazingly good seats directly behind President Matthew Emery. At the Quarter-Millennial Celebration, Pete sat with Senator David West and Dr. Diana Hsu West atop the gigantic podium built for the occasion on the Washington Monument lawn.
Emery made a point of chatting with all three several times that evening, apparently believing the old adage, “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
Or maybe he just wanted to look like a good sport in front of all the cameras.
There was little doubt in Washington that David West would be Emery’s opponent in the elections two years hence and West would be difficult to beat. Bookmakers in London were already offering two-to-one odds to anyone willing to bet West would not be elected president in 2028. David found that factoid particularly ironic, and wondered if his father had ever gambled on political elections.
During the 20th century, before the cure for alcoholism was discovered, compulsive gambling had been far more difficult to treat than alcoholism. Even in 2026, gambling addiction was incurable, but Bruce Witkowsky, now 63 years old, had been undergoing treatment for many years. He had lived in Dallas since August 2014. David now saw his father regularly and spoke with him almost every day. Fortunately the family no longer depended on Bruce for anything important; he was mainly a source of entertainment.
Pete, who had become much more appreciative of, and closer to, his own parents over the past decade, had once likened Bruce to an otherwise clever puppy who could never be housebroken.
In previous times a father like Bruce might have been a political liability, but David wasn’t concerned. He was unashamed of where he came from and proud of the obstacles he had overcome. His political capital had multiplied with the introduction of the ACIP into American life. Unlike most politicians, he had long accepted that the Truth Machine was coming and had fashioned his political persona on the basis of that inevitability.
Now any person could be truth-tested by reserving time at one of thousands of testing stations offering ACIPs for civil litigation or mediation. A politician who refused to submit to a scip was unelectable. The ACIP had eliminated the crooks, and even honest politicians struggled to justify previous actions and positions with statements that could hold up under scip.
Yet since his first run at elected office, David had simply stood for what he believed was right. No hidden agenda. No riding popular opinion polls. No catering to special interests. In short, he had never done anything he’d have trouble explaining. Whenever he had changed position on an issue, it was because he’d decided his previous stance had been wrong. Other than those instances, perfectly acceptable to most voters, David could answer scip questions for hours at a time without ever contradicting previous statements.
No politician in America was more trusted than David West.
David, Diana, and Pete talked non-stop whenever they got together. They talked about almost everything, but especially about their Harvard days, politics, and ATI. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that it was hard to remain silent during the endless speeches. Still, they had to be polite.
Finally after one particularly long-winded effort, West turned to his friend. “Whatever happened to Scoggins’s ATI stock? Did he have any family?”
“Er, actually n-no. Both p-parents were dead and there were no brothers or sisters. We couldn’t even find a cousin. Didn’t leave a will either. As soon as they declare him legally dead, Uncle Sam’ll probably wind up with the whole estate.”
Pete was hoping David would change the subject. He hated being asked about Scoggins. But at least, he thought, I can answer these questions without lying.
“They never did find a body, did they?” Diana added.
“No. But I can’t imagine he’s still alive.”
“It’s amazing,” West said. “Thirty-eight years old, second richest person in America and he disappears without a trace.”
“I never thought of him as the suicidal type,” Diana added, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened. What a strange person. Brilliant, but worldclass weird. I don’t think the poor guy ever even had a girlfriend.”
Diana regretted the comment the moment she uttered it. Pete hasn’t either, she realized, ever since he and Jennifer broke up, which he won’t talk about.
Pete never talked about Jennifer Finley, but thought about her constantly. Do I still love her? he wondered, trying to convince himself that he no longer did. But he certainly cared deeply for her and felt despairingly lonely in her absence.
He remembered the day he almost proposed to her.
What if I’d asked her to stay? Maybe we’d be married now. And if not, at least I’d know her answer. But now I’ll never know. What a fool I was. You can’t play games with someone like Jennifer. Why couldn’t I have been more honest about my feelings?
He had never tried to get in touch with her—that wouldn’t have been fair—but did follow her career. He continued to have his computer search for media articles where her name was mentioned, subscribed to the electronic version of The Princeton Gazette, and often checked company records to make sure she hadn’t sold any of her ATI stock.
If she ever needs me, I’ll be there for her, he had decided long ago, but she must never know it.
David noticed his wife’s gaffe and steered the conversation back to Scoggins.
“I remember warning you not to hire Scoggins. Never trusted him. But I’m glad you didn’t listen because apparently he was a great asset. Can you believe I was actually wrong? Well, there has to be a first time for everything.” David smiled at both of them. “How much has it hurt ATI to lose him?”
“You can’t really measure something like that. He was a brilliant manager, absolutely driven. But ATI stock keeps going up anyway and Tilly’s doing a great job running the ACIP division now.” These days, Pete was getting quite proficient at changing the subject. “You two know she’s finally getting married, don’t you? I met him last week. Pleasant guy. He’s not good enough for her, but nobody is as far as I’m concerned.”
I wish I could tell them everything.
After about a year of remission, Pete’s tics were starting to return. A few months past the murder he had found himself at peace, feeling very little guilt over the act itself, reasoning that he’d killed Scoggins to help human-kind. In a strange way, he had come to view the murder as an act of heroism, not cowardice. But this rationalization was starting to wear thin.
Worse yet, recalling his hallucinations on the day he had killed Scoggins, Pete was starting to wonder if he was sound. Recently he had been devouring books about mental ailments and suspected he might have Intermittent Delusionary Disorder or some other dementia. IDD seemed the most likely culprit, but Pete couldn’t think of any way to get tested without confessing.
Even here in public, Pete was rocking more and sometimes his tongue protruded ever so slightly. He knew why; he was honest by nature and the lying was starting to bother him. Especially as everyone else with whom he came in contact seemed to get progressively more honest; the ACIP was still confined to the legal system, but its existence cut a wide psychological swath. It seemed as though it was always there in the background, like a conscience.
Diana had once referred to the Truth Machine as “a giant electronic Santa Claus for adults; everyone believes in it and it knows who’s been naughty or nice.”
The ACIP was already having subtle, mostly positive effects on the way all people interacted, but Pete found himself excluded from that phenomenon. So he felt less worthy.
I’m becoming more like Charles Scoggins every day.
Alone in their hotel later, Diana bemoaned her thoughtlessness. “I can’t believe I said that! I practically told him he was weird.”
“You were talking about Charles Scoggins, not Pete. In fact, Haywood Thacker told me something so private I really shouldn’t even repeat it.”
Diana’s curiosity was piqued. “So ar
e you going to tell me or not?”
“When they finally searched Scoggins’s house, guess what they found.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“His virtual reality unit was the kind specially made for kinky sex.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “Like the machines they put in hotel rooms for watching VR movies?”
David grinned. “No comparison. The hotel units are never quite X-rated. Scoggins’s machine was really hardcore. Whips and chains, leather, the works. We’ll never know, but I can just imagine him going home every night, having sex with, say, Marilyn Monroe—while Sharon Stone tied him up and abused him with a riding crop.”
Diana laughed. “Knowing Scoggins, I bet he did a cost-benefit analysis. Probably decided virtual sex was more efficient than having real relationships.”19
“And a whole lot cheaper!”
Diana was silent a moment. “But Pete’s getting pretty strange himself. I’m sure he knows we’ve noticed.”
“He’s probably still carrying a torch for you, my sweet—not that I blame him.” But they both knew it was no longer true. He kissed her gently.
“No, seriously. He’s been acting so nervous lately. The rocking’s coming back; if we hadn’t been out in public today, it might’ve been worse than ever. And I don’t think he has any friends at all except for Tilly and us and maybe a few people at ATI.”
“Look, Diana, he’s always been an introvert and he puts himself under intense pressure. The important thing is for us to be there for him when he needs us—to be as supportive to him as he’s been to us. I hope he knows we’d do anything for him.”
“I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“Me too. I can’t explain why, but lately I’ve been terrified for him.”
CHAPTER 35
THE MANDATE
Falls Church, Virginia
November 7, 2028—Latest polls suggest a surprising turn in tomorrow’s presidential elections, with Senator David West trailing President Matthew Emery by nearly four percentage points.—New federal laws go into effect, allowing scips for employment and for college and private school admissions interviews. Analysts project a $200 billion increase in ATI’s annual revenues during the first year. An ATI spokesman says the company will offer leases to businesses and schools, but has no plans to sell ACIPs outright.—The first fatal automobile accident in the United States in over 14 months occurs in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The accident, involving 571 cars, happens as a result of a simultaneous electrical storm and solar flash, short-circuiting both parallel-process computer systems that control all automobiles within a three square-mile area. Seven persons are killed, including two small children who were traveling alone and were struck by other cars after leaving their vehicles. Over 200 injuries are also reported, mostly superficial cuts and bruises. Secretary of Transportation Nancy Corbin says she is considering asking Congress to raise the legal age of unaccompanied transport to eight. Most experts consider the measure unnecessary and some predict there will be no more traffic accidents in the United States.
The Princeton Gazette, now issued daily, maintained a staff of 16 reporters, all of whom were committed to other stories. Circulation approached 150,000 even though it covered strictly New Jersey news. Since former New Jersey Governor Michael Albanese was Emery’s vice-presidential running mate and would in all probability become Vice President Elect, Jennifer Finley decided to make the trip to Virginia and cover the election herself.
She hoped Emery would lose. Although she hadn’t kept in touch with the Wests since her breakup with Pete, she admired David and was sure he’d make a fine president.
As for Pete, her feelings for him were still jumbled. She had loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone, but knew she was in over her head from the beginning; leaving him had almost been a relief. He had so much power over her that she’d almost lost herself entirely to the relationship, yet he didn’t seem to need her at all. Pete’s work had always come first, and when she had the chance, she had never protested; she’d simply smiled and acted as if everything was fine, often lying to hide her pain. She thought of all the times Pete had unintentionally hurt her—and how she had never allowed herself to show it.
Jennifer used to blame him, but had come to realize that Pete needed someone stronger than she could ever be around him, a woman who could confront him. It was time for her to find someone else to love—someone with whom she could be her true self. But she had learned a lot from Pete. Watching him had taught her how to focus her mind on a task and to block out distractions until she achieved it. This skill had served her well, fostering confidence and professional growth. She even speculated that the ACIP might force her to be more honest in her next love relationship, making it more sustainable. She hoped so and wished Pete well.
“No regrets” was no longer quite the lie it had been when she’d written that ridiculously magnanimous goodbye note.
In 2028 the ACIP was still used mainly in the court system, although Congress had also approved it for customs, immigration, food and drug testing and inspection, and several other government functions. But the inevitability of its invasion into other areas was becoming obvious. The ACIP was already popular; few voters sided against widening its use. Even then, its effects were impressively positive—far beyond even the most optimistic predictions of just a few years earlier. Savings in court costs had exceeded projections by over 30 percent, but those savings were dwarfed by the benefit of forcing lawyers (who had previously tended to be among the most intelligent and least productive members of American society) to redirect their energies to more worthwhile areas.
And the virtual elimination of crime was by far the greatest godsend of all.
Unfortunately there were also costs. Over the previous two years, the Department of Health had recognized 274 ACIP-related suicides in America. Although Pete realized the ACIP’s benefits far outweighed its detriments, he agonized over these deaths, and suspected the true toll was many times higher. Most people who commit suicide because of the ACIP, he believed, would try to make their deaths appear accidental. The individuals most likely to succumb are those who have secrets they can’t cope with revealing; people who care what others think of them, but who have made terrible mistakes.
He also lamented that the number of suicides would surely mushroom as ACIP usage spread.
President Matthew Emery had come back from a 24-point deficit in the polls and was now a strong favorite to win reelection. Yet he could take no credit himself.
My opponent just about handed me the election.
Gathered with family, friends, and supporters at the Newt Gingrich Auditorium just a few miles from his boyhood home, Emery intended to enjoy the evening, make himself available to the press for several hours, and get a good night’s sleep. The next morning he planned to return to monitor early results, and later in the day, give his victory speech.
How could David West have been so dumb? Emery asked himself. He had the hearts of the American people in the palm of his hand, until he insisted on making World Government the major issue of his campaign. World Government! Now there’s a no-win issue.People want to hear about defense, the economy, and funding of scientific research, not World Government.
Yet everywhere he went, David West had raised the issue, insisting it was the key to the survival of humanity.
At their final debate, David had argued, “Every day the world gets smaller and the human race becomes more vulnerable to technology we’ve created. Violence and wars continue all around us. Weapons become more deadly and more plentiful. Yet we have the opportunity to fashion this planet into one democracy. If we don’t do it within the next 20 years, I doubt we’ll ever stop the forces that threaten our existence. War has been illegal since the UN passed Resolution #2019A on March 17, 2013. Now, 15 years later, that law is simply ignored. How can we enforce the rule of law against those whom we’re powerless to arrest? And without the rule of law, how long can the human race survive?”
Not that West is necessarily wrong, Emery thought. He believed in the concept too, just on a slower track.
His rebuttal was persuasive. “I agree we must use our influence to push for World Government, but I think my opponent wants it too fast. It would be less dangerous to allow 30 years rather than 20. We’re talking about the biggest political undertaking in history. There will be fewer problems and far less resistance if we don’t rush it.”
Emery’s honestly held position came across as moderate, and to many, David’s stance now appeared dogmatic and radical. David’s miscalculation had been one of the greatest strokes of luck in Matthew Emery’s long political career. Or so Emery thought.
But David had a method to his madness. He had calculated that a mandate for a 20-year schedule for conversion to World Government was worth risking the election; he was only 43 years old and if he lost, he would be back in four years. Furthermore, he believed that people trusted him more than they trusted Emery. In spite of the polls, he had faith that when it came time to cast their ballots, the people would elect him. Just in case it might make a difference, he stayed up all night, campaigning and giving interviews to as many journalists as he could.
As soon as the voting began, Emery and his friends realized they had a problem. The first results came from three eastern states expected to support Emery, and West was leading with over 53 percent of the vote. Matthew Emery conceded the election at 10:03 a.m. on November 8, 2028. West eventually carried every state except Virginia. It was the biggest upset in a national election since 1948.
The Truth Machine Page 24