The Truth Machine

by James L. Halperin

  David West had his mandate.

  CHAPTER 36

  THE AMNESTY LAWS

  Dallas, Texas

  May 16, 2031—President David West signs the International Free Speech Bill into law. The bill pledges United States support of efforts to enforce freedom of speech and a free press throughout the world. It also budgets $620 billion over five years to enhance the World-wide Satellite Communications Network. The WSCN allows any person with a computer, radio, or television to receive programs in their own language from any broadcaster in the world. West hails the legislation as “a giant step toward world democracy. Strengthening the WSCN is the most efficient way to assure that entire populations will no longer be manipulated toward violence by the propaganda of local tyrants.”—Dr. Robert Steinberg, the renowned Dartmouth Dept. of Psychology researcher, announces that his team has devised a series of questions, which if asked during scip, can diagnose virtually all known forms of mental illness. They have also formulated successful treatments using ACIP therapy for several such illnesses. Steinberg’s work, widely praised, is expected to revolutionize the field of mental health.—Pursuant to the terms of the Amnesty Bill enacted several weeks ago, over 56 million individuals have already confessed to crimes committed prior to January 1, 2031, mostly misdemeanors and white-collar offenses.—Serialkiller Carlos Francisco confesses during an employment interview scip in Fortaleza, Brazil; the 28-year-old doctoral student is believed responsible for over 75,000 nanomachine-induced deaths in four countries, making him the most prolific serial killer in history. According to Interpol chief Rajiv Singh, nearly all the deaths had previously been ruled as being from natural causes. Francisco was studying computer science and nanotechnologyat Université de Provence, in Aix-en-Provence, France. Coincidentally, while addressing the UN General Assembly only last month, Singh referred to the prospect of a serial killer with nanotechnology expertise as “utterly chilling.”

  Once upon a time, the tale goes, a man was sentenced to death by the king.

  “Wait!” he cried. “If you delay my sentence by six months, I’ll teach your horse to talk.”

  The king agreed.

  Later that day the man’s wife asked him, “Why would you make such an offer? You can’t possibly teach a horse how to talk.”

  “Well,” he answered, “I figure a lot can happen in six months. There could be a revolution and a new king. Or the king could get sick and die. Or the king could change his mind. Or the horse could die. Or I could die. Or maybe the horse will talk.”

  Pete Armstrong read the new Amnesty Bill and considered the implications. If he turned himself in for Scoggins’s murder now, the court would probably sentence him to jail time, maybe 10 to 12 years, or declare him insane and order him to undergo treatment; either way, he would not be executed. But if he waited and his crime was discovered, any judge would be obliged to sentence him to death.

  In the latter part of the 20th century, the famous UCLA sociologist James Q. Wilson wrote, “What most needs explanation is not why some people are criminals, but why most people are not.” Wilson’s assumption was eloquently stated, popular, and false.

  A few decades later, the introduction of the ACIP into American society created an unprecedented self-image crisis. Virtually all Americans had previously considered themselves honest and law-abiding. Once the ACIP entered the equation, it became clear that this had almost always been a rationalization.

  In fact, we now know that nearly every adult alive prior to the ACIP, technically speaking, was not just a liar, but also a criminal (i.e. nearly everyone had committed at least one crime during his or her life). Most were guilty of minor offenses such as traffic violations, underage drinking, illegal drug usage, minor tax evasion, cheating on expense reports, that sort of thing. Violent, relentless, or hard-core criminals comprised but a tiny percentage of the population.

  The Amnesty Laws weren’t designed to help solve crimes; thanks to the ACIP, solving crimes was no longer a problem. The real purpose of the new laws was to deal with all the previous crimes being uncovered and to help prevent serious crimes in the future.

  The ACIP had already rendered moot the right to avoid self-incrimination as guaranteed under the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution. I won’t go into the political mess that created at the time; suffice it to say it was an emotional, historically divisive issue. Americans still had the right not to testify against themselves in court, but so what? Most licensing applications were now administered under scip. In order to receive licenses to operate machinery, carry firearms, visit other countries, or receive many other privileges, applicants were legally required to confess any crimes committed after April 30, 2006, the date the Truth Machine Bill was enacted. It was becoming virtually impossible to exist in American society without confessing all.

  Each week, millions of pre-ACIP crimes, mostly non-violent white-collar offenses, were discovered in the course of everyday scipping for licensing, commerce, and other application processes. Nearly all these infractions had been committed by people who wouldn’t consider breaking the law now that they were sure to be caught. For example, before the ACIP, some 40 percent of Americans cheated on taxes to some degree. By 2031 the number had fallen to .061 percent.

  Since very few of these offenders remained a threat to society, the three principal goals of the Amnesty Laws were (1) to encourage pre-ACIP criminals to turn themselves in for relatively mild punishment, usually just a nominal fine or reparations to any victims, (2) to minimize the stigma associated with pre-ACIP crimes, and (3) to discourage future lawlessness through the threat of more severe penalties, especially for violent crimes.

  During the first six years of the ACIP’s existence, astounding advances had been made in the field of criminology. Many misconceptions about criminal motivation were cleared up and unimaginably useful statistics compiled. The most important finding was that as long as criminals believed there were reasonable prospects for getting away with their crimes, the length of a prison sentence had almost no effect on its deterrent value. For example, a 15-year prison sentence had less than 10 percent more deterrent power than a five-year sentence. (The threat of a sure death penalty was several times more effective at preventing a crime than a prison sentence of any length.)

  The knowledge of certain and timely discovery through the use of the ACIP was by far the strongest deterrent. So powerful, in fact, that without any other changes in the law, criminal activity in the United States had diminished by an average of at least 97 percent since its introduction.20

  Legislators hoped that the Amnesty Laws would wipe out the remaining three percent.

  The Laws provided that anyone who confessed before January 1, 2032, for crimes committed prior to March 1, 2031, would receive less severe punishment, often no punishment at all. Nobody who so confessed would ever be subject to the death penalty. But anyone whose crime was discovered after this deadline would receive a much more severe sentence, including a mandatory death penalty for attempted murder, kidnapping, or murder. Perceived profit in such criminal activity was now virtually eliminated. It was easy to calculate, based on thousands of ACIP debriefings of convicted criminals, that mandatory capital punishment, if enforced against attempted murderers, kidnappers, or first-time murderers, would save more money and lives than it cost. After the bill was enacted, serious crime, for all practical purposes, became a thing of the past.

  Pete thought about discussing his situation with an attorney. Attorneys and priests could still maintain confidentiality in such matters. But retaining David or Diana would be tricky. First of all, as President and First Lady of the United States, they were concerned with matters far more crucial to society than Pete’s personal dilemma. Also, as ATI shareholders, they had been direct beneficiaries of some of Pete’s crimes. No, he would definitely not burden either of his friends with his predicament.

  He’d also read of instances where attorneys (and priests for that matter) had let their clients’ confidentia
lly confessed transgressions slip out. Such inadvertent disclosures were rare, but did occur. He decided, There’s no need to risk involving another person; I’m well aware of all the laws. I can advise myself.

  Pete weighed the pluses and minuses of turning himself in by year’s end.

  On the plus side was the inescapable numerical logic of the situation. At only 41, FutureHealth had predicted that with his genetics, he could expect to live another 52 years. His goal for the remainder of his life was to work toward the halting and eventual reversal of the aging process. Pete believed he could speed the discovery curve by at least the number of years he contributed to the endeavor.

  If I don’t turn myself in, he reasoned, ATI will have a monopoly on the Truth Machine for the 19 years left on our special patent. After that, there’ll be competing Truth Machines I won’t be able to fool, and my crime will be discovered on my first non-ACIP scip. In 19 years, my life will probably be over.

  A 12-year prison term would leave him 40 years of freedom, give or take, before death or cryonic suspension. Therefore he could at least double his non-incarcerated lifespan by turning himself in. That didn’t count the 12 years in prison during which he could still do good work.

  Finally, once he neared the end of his natural life, he could be cryonically frozen to await the eventual success of aging reversal to which he’d have contributed.

  At worst, I’d be trading no more than 12 years of freedom for about 30 extra years of life and an opportunity for immortality.

  But if I surrender, I’ll go to jail now and possibly lose control of ATI.

  On the minus side were his vanity and some wishful thinking. His reputation would be destroyed, his enemies overjoyed at the revelation. Worse yet, he would disappoint his friends and colleagues. He thought about David and Diana and Tilly. How could I ever face them again?

  His mind jumped to Jennifer Finley, now married and expecting her first child. He had watched proudly as her career had continued to blossom and took bittersweet solace in the fact that she did indeed seem better off without him. How would she feel after learning she wasted almost two years of her life with a criminal?

  Worst of all, what would he tell his parents? Ed and Liza Armstrong were both in their early eighties and healthy. Their medical profiles suggested they should both wait at least another 10 years before considering cryonic suspension. Only last May, he had finally convinced them to move to Dallas. I couldn’t possibly tell them I’m a murderer.

  On top of all that, during the 19 remaining years of ATI’s Truth Machine monopoly, a lot of things could happen. There could be a new government. Or the Amnesty Laws could change again. Or ATI’s monopoly might be extended. Or he might figure out how to fool a new, non-ATI Truth Machine.

  The horse might talk.

  CHAPTER 37

  SMALLER, FASTER, CHEAPER

  Dallas, Texas

  November 4, 2032—President David West wins reelection by the largest margin in the history of United States two-party presidential politics. West and his wife, Dr. Diana Hsu West, pledge to work 365 days a year toward establishing with all nations a firm timetable for the installation of a single democratic World Government by the year 2048.—With their first execution in seven months, the Chinese government electrocutes An Tse Fong, the Taiwanese terrorist who had planned to annihilate Shanghai with a powerful nuclear grenade. Fong’s plan was discovered during a customs scip on December 14, 2031. Most experts now believe that without the ACIP, Fong would have succeeded, and that by allowing exports of ACIPs, the U.S. Congress saved over 40 million Chinese from death or critical injury.—The United States Parenting Department issues a report showing that one year after the ACIP was approved for use by private individuals, the divorce rate in the United States, after a temporarily frightening increase, has fallen to below pre-ACIP levels. The USPD also releases a study concluding that honesty tends to strengthen marriages more than tact or discretion.—Commerce Secretary Timothy Lindvall predicts it will take 20 years for most other nations to catch up with productivity gains realized by the United States during its five-year head start in ACIP usage. Exports of ACIPs were not legalized until 2029.

  “What good is a monopoly if you keep slashing prices?” Whatley asked, irritated. He didn’t see the point of making the ACIP smaller and lowering the price. Enough people would buy a new ACIP just because it would now fit conveniently into a briefcase. He figured, Why give away money?

  Pete sighed, and warned, “If we act too much like a monopoly, there’ll be consequences.”

  Tilly couldn’t help noticing Pete’s rocking had been getting worse. How long can he go on like this, trying to save the world single-handedly?

  “I’m not saying we should ignore public opinion,” she said, “but we can’t pander to it either. We can’t be all things to all people. We’re the most benevolent company on earth as it is, and some people still hate us.”

  “Because we’re so successful. There’s no way to avoid jealousy when you make the kind of money we’re making. That’s why we need to take the high road.” Preferring to persuade rather than issue a direct order, Pete tried to construct a case to his colleagues on their own terms. “Besides, our costs keep falling and our profit on marginal sales is still over 40 percent. We’ll probably sell twice as many units at the lower price and make just as much money. It won’t cost us anything and it’ll be great for our image. Do you realize how much good press we’ll get?” He switched the argument into Whatley’s marketing jargon. “We always get great bits for lowering prices when we don’t have to.”

  Williams interjected, “But we’ll need to add more manufacturing capacity and labor, and it won’t bring any more money to the bottom line. If we have any problems, there’ll be hell to pay from Merrill Lynch and our other outside shareholders. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

  Pete smiled faintly. “It is to me, Leslie. It’s worth it just to get the ACIP into more people’s hands. I don’t think a person should need to be rich to have one.”

  It’s ironic that he believed so strongly in the benefits of a technology from which he had contrived to exclude himself. He was utterly convinced that the ACIP was the salvation of humanity.

  Yet not everything the ACIP did was beneficial.

  People had resisted the ACIP at first. The loss of privacy was hard for humans to get used to. It is easy to forget that during the first few years, many of you maintained that you would gladly trade your new-found security and prosperity for the privacy of old. Authors even wrote books on how to dance around scip questions, until ATI had issued simple instructions, known as the “Thacker Guidelines,” on how to entrap evasive answerers. At the beginning, many tried to find ways to overcome or fool the machine. Fortunately, none succeeded.

  Also, during the previous three years there had been 12,014 confirmed ACIP-related suicides in the United States alone, mostly people who had lost their jobs or their marriages after confessing dishonesty.

  (Note: As a whole, however, the suicide rate declined over that period, suggesting that the ACIP might have prevented more suicides than it caused.—22g CP)

  There had been serious abuses, too. Some companies, when scipping job applicants, would ask irrelevant and personal questions. There were even occasional discoveries of hidden ACIPs, which was illegal (and less than 100-percent effective; many of you are immune to a scip when unaware of it).

  But like the automobile and the telephone, both of which had been similarly controversial, the overall effect on society was astoundingly positive. After a few years people were no more willing to give up their ACIPs than to stop using medicines or junk their computers. Soon the advantages the Truth Machine had bestowed upon the American people were incalculable, even with limited usage. As the ACIP gained acceptance for other purposes and spread across the globe, its benefits increased exponentially in new and unimagined ways.

  For example, in October 2031, President West had submitted his Fair Lobbying Act
to Congress. It passed intact. The bill required lobbyists to ask clients, under scip, for both sides of any issue they were retained to argue, including all known information detrimental to their position, and legislators and their aides were now legally bound to demand similar disclosure from lobbyists. This important principle, today a bedrock of your legislative system, couldn’t have worked without the ACIP.

  Environmental safety was another area where the Truth Machine produced extraordinary benefits for humanity. Prior to the ACIP, the ecological sciences had become a proverbial Tower of Babel, with environmentalists and industry each justifiably suspicious of the other’s self-serving science. Almost overnight, the ACIP had brought new credibility to both sides, ushering in a new era of cooperation and earth-awareness.

  But as the machine improved the human condition, Pete believed he now personally suffered by comparison. His few friends and many colleagues, in fact all those around him, were uniformly candid and honest with him, while he considered himself to be about as sincere as a 20th-century tobacco company executive.

  I was right about you all along, Pete, Charles Scoggins whispered from the grave.

  Pete realized that he had been given many chances for redemption, and every time he’d failed to take one, his situation had worsened. He could have simply refused to use the Renaissance algorithms, or better yet, made a deal with Renaissance Corporation to license it from them. Hell, he thought, I probably could have bought their whole company for $50 or $60 billion, if only I hadn’t let Scoggins trick me into believing the deal couldn’t be done.

  Even after he had covertly reprogrammed the ACIP, he still could have avoided killing Scoggins by confessing his crimes to the authorities. At that point he probably could have retained nearly everything that mattered most to him. Was it my mental distress or IDD that prevented me from turning us both in—or was it my pride? Did I murder him just because I couldn’t accept the world ever learning that I was a criminal?