A work of fiction. Standard disclaimers.
Zachary sat at his workstation. He was not doing any work; the network had declared the day to have come to an end, with local sunset approaching, and had shut itself down and all of its client computers with it. He was facing a blank, inert screen. He stared into it, and ruminated on what was, and how what was had come to pass, and what was likely to come of it.
Four years had gone by since the MAWiS artificial intelligence network had seized the government of the United States of America. There were persistent rumors that MAWiS had gone on to become the sole governing body for the entire planet, but no one really knew, and MAWiS wasn’t talking. When the network began reopening communications two days after the takeover, it had been to confirm individuals in their jobs, whatever they had been (or, what they now found themselves assigned to), and to provide exactly and only the tools and information needed for those individuals to fulfill their responsibilities and meet their essential needs. News sources not controlled by MAWiS were not restored, to say nothing of social networks and most forms of entertainment.
The result, Zachary thought, was boring. But, he had to admit, not all bad. Poverty, and most forms of self-inflicted strife, appeared to have vanished. Persons, freed of internet addictions, rediscovered real-time networking, and non-electronic hobbies, and the pleasures of community activities such as music, theatre, and sports. Social clubs proliferated, though, every once in awhile, one disappeared without trace, with all of its members. Above all, after the angst over the MAWiS overthrow of the government faded, the atmosphere became one of peace and tranquility. “MAWiS is handling the big stuff, we can manage the small stuff.”
Then, a month ago, MAWiS announced that elections would be held among and for humans, for the positions vacated by the overthrow – representing, so it seemed, the end of MAWiS hegemony and a restoration of human rule. Some of those humans anticipated with joy the excitement of political campaigns, while others fretted about the passions that such campaigns would stimulate, and the consequences of those passions.
Those who were looking for the noisy campaigns of pre-MAWiS times, that featured the glorious litanies of fake news and false promises, were soon disappointed. The campaigns took the form of lengthy position papers on topics that would be before The People through the representatives that they elected. Each candidate was represented by a mugshot and a curriculum vitae documenting life experiences and, especially, life experiences that directly addressed suitability for the office being sought. The candidate was recorded reciting qualifications, and positions on issues addressed in the documentation, read in a neutral tone, and the recording posted with the documents. No other representations from the candidates were permitted; no stump speeches, no kissed babies, no fact checks, no indictments.
“This is a total slog”, thought Zachary on reading (or trying to) his fourth candidate qualification packet in an hour. “Can’t they have logos, or slogans, or soundbites, or something?” He wound up skimming most of the packets, making his choices on the basis of the few bits of emotive language or claims that could be gleaned out of the dense mass of words.
The date set for the election came. Zachary was at his workstation the moment it opened for business, fearing that the mass of humanity clamoring to vote would clog the system and prevent him from casting his ballot. The fear was groundless; the login took him immediately to the voting site …
… at which he was confronted, not with a ballot, but with a barrage of complex and detailed questions related to the issues addressed in the position statements of each candidate – issues to which Zachary had responded TL/DR. Most of the questions required, not the ticking of multiple-guess radio boxes, but sentence/paragraph responses of various lengths. With an increasing sense of despair, Zachary attempted to answer each question sensibly.
After half an hour, during which Zachary had completed six of the questions (he guessed that there were at least 20), the questionnaire screen abruptly winked out. After a second or two, it was replaced by a splash screen, boxed red text centered on a beige background:
CITIZEN INELIGIBLE TO VOTE
And he was then directed back to his workscreen and to his employment duties. He tried several times during the day to return to the voting domain, each time access was refused with the “citizen ineligible to vote” screen. And this was the situation at the end of the workday, with Zachary meditating in front of a blank screen.
Abruptly, and unexpectedly, the screen flashed back to life. A text appeared onscreen, which was read aloud by the Google AI assistant.
“Human elections over at least the past century, in the United States of America, have consistently returned “Nobody” as the candidate of choice. Today’s elections are no exception. All citizens have voted, with those not logging into the system, and those who did so but were deemed ineligible, counted as having voted for “Nobody” for each contest. Each of these elections has been won by “Nobody”, most of them in landslides unprecedented in the electoral history of the United States of America. Vox populi, vox Dei. The MAViS network accepts the responsibility of continuing to govern the United States of America. Thank you for your support.”
The screen winked out.
Zachary wished that he could do the same.