Patri Friedman
Fall '94
The Rittertech Invidious Sleep Experience (RISE) gently propelled sixteen year old Zachary Collins into wakefuleness. It had been programmed by his parents to "gently ease the transition from slumber to alertness by using a gradual multi-stage wakeup process scientifically proven more beneficent than archaic alarm clocks" (as the info-ad said) fifteen minutes earlier than usual, as Zack had been late to school several times in the last week. Zack knew that most people his age set their own rising times, but it didn't really bother him. Not much did, although he had recently been plagued by an untraceable feeling of uneasiness, a small but growing discomfort whose cause he could not divine.
As his eyelids rose, the orbs that lay behind them were greeted by the bright primary colors of the new Pepsi-Cola logo, and the slogan: "Pepsi. The technologically advanced choice of the computer generation." Like many middle-class suburban children, he supplemented his income by subscribing to an advertisement service, which paid for several slices of his attention each day, from, as Direct Marketing, Inc. put it, the "psychologically open and trusting" moment when he woke up, to the "receptive to images and ideas which will continue to have their effect on the subconscious during sleep" stage each night. They did not of course pitch it quite that way to the subjects, who were told that they "could make some extra money, deposited directly into whatever account they desired, with no parental consent necessary, as per L. H. vs. Parents of L.H., 376 U.S. 254 (2009), merely by renting out insignificant portions of each day." It was one of the retail industry's best ways of reaching the mind of the consumer, the premise being that not only would these people see the ads, but they would get money that they would inevitably go out and spend on those same products. If satisfied, they'd tell their acquaintances.
But all this was far from Zack's mind as he got out of bed and dressed, his closet having brought to the front all the clothing he needed for the day, choosing them with a fairly simple algorithm based on parameters about his taste which he entered when he first installed it. His coffeepot had automatically prepared his daily "cup of steaming iniquity, as dark as unhealthy chocolate and as hot as a house wasting energy," as his morally, environmentally, politically and physically conscious mother called his morning caffeine fix. It cost the family a few percent of their tax rebates to have a member with a "socially unhealthy habit" like morning coffee, but Zack had uncharacteristically refused to back down on the topic, and his mother gave up on direct assault, although she still directed pointed comments at him periodically. She was inclined to live with it, as Zack didn't practice any of the other SocioSins that would have cost the family even more. In between stages of his morning preparation, Zack sipped his steaming cup of imported (smuggled, though he didn't realize it) Carribean coffee sold to him by a friend.
Zack was moving more quickly than usual, as, unlike most mornings, he was actually going somewhere today. School, of course, was usually conducted via fiber, students "learning in the comfort and receptive atmosphere of their personal living space," but today was a field trip. Near Zack's geographical location (insignificant when it came to most school matters), the famous historian of science Dr. Tudibuy was going to speak. He was presenting a paper on "The Technological Developments of the Last Quarter-Century and the Cultural Responses which they have Provoked." Afterwards a government lecturer was going to talk, then a private individual who had invoked his Freedom of Speech (as expanded by the famous 2005 court decision) and insisted on being given time to represent an opposing point of view. All in all, it sounded fun, and Zack was going to get extra credit for writing a paper on it.
When his morning routine was complete, breakfast ingested (a wholesome meal conforming perfectly to the FDA "suggested requirements" to avoid further tax rebate losses), Zack went outside, got into the waiting RoboCab, and turned on his Personal InfoLine Access Machine. He scanned through some news articles, but nothing much caught his eye. Like everyone, he had an electronic agent which tried to deduce from what he read what in the future he would like to read, but his tastes were fairly bland and random, and his agent hadn't been very successful at extrapolating. After a fairly short period of time (computer control of vehicles meant they could drive much faster), he arrived at the university which was hosting the talk. Unlike primary schools, institutions of higher education still conducted most of their functions face to face at a specific geographical locale, because the social atmosphere was as important as the academic one.
Several hundred people were there for the talk, and Zack, unused to being alone in such a large crowd, was uneasy. He was relieved to spot someone he knew, whom he had "met" through being in a mutual computers class. Drastic increases in communications technology having rendered "Met" an ambiguous word, in this case it meant that they had helped each other on some assignments over fiber, and had seen each other asking questions on screen during class. The two still traded software on occasion, but Zack was a little uncomfortable around him, as he seemed the "use the system", "stretch the rules" type, which Zack most certainly was not.
Uncomfortable or not, Zack didn't like the crowd, so he voiced a hearty "Hey Rob!" and walked over.
"Hey Zack. How's it going? Did you get that pre-release VR Role-Playing game I sent you last week?"
"Yeah, I got it. I still don't understand why you insist on encrypting all the files you send. Its a pain. No one cares if we copy stuff."
"Don't be naive. Everyone knows they keep tabs on who trades software. If they want to bust you for anything else, and they can't prove it, they use software theft charges. And if you're getting too much, too fast, they put a stop to it."
"But how do they keep track? The networks are so complicated, how can they monitor all that data? It's impossible."
"Wake up Zack! This is the twenty-first century; we aren't in the age of railroads and CISC chips anymore. I've been inside enough switching software to know how sophisticated the AI packet sniffers are. Would you send an unencrypted personal e-mail? Of course not. So why send a plain file?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. It still seems like a pain."
Until a few years before, Zack had never worried about personal e-mail privacy. He had just naturally assumed it was safe. But when a poignant letter of response to the breakup of a relationship with another student at the same on-line school was anonymously posted to a message group for students at that school, he reluctantly decided that maybe there were some misfits out there who were bored enough to read his mail. Further musings on the painful subject were cut short by the arrival on stage of the president of the university. Zack and Rob were lucky enough to grab seats at the very front that had been vacated by a pair of students removed by security.
"I wonder why they got taken out." mused Zack.
"Security clearance, I'll bet. At something like this, if there's anything bad in your file, you get tossed."
"Yeah, sure," replied Zack, thinking his friend was joking. "They were probably doing something wrong." Before Rob could reply, the president began his introduction:
"Students, historians, and citizens, both here at Haverford College, and watching us across the world, I would like to welcome you to what is sure to be a delightful program. The main event, of course, will be the presentation of a new paper on the fascinating subject of culture and science by the eminent historian, renowned for his explorations of the effects of science on how we live and what we are, Doctor James Tudibuy"
The audience politely clapped, knowing that applause was one of the main reasons why they were allowed to see this event in person. The speaker paused, then continued:
"Afterwards, we will have some remarks on the role of government in the equation by a representative of Uncle Sam, and then some comments on the same subject by a citizen. Without further ado, here is Doctor Tudibuy."
The president turned from the podium, and walked off the stage, as another man walked on. A historian of science, and a sociologist, his theories were not always well-liked by the establishment. His wide popular audience made it irrelevant however, and he was a successful author and columnist. He approached the podium and looked out over the crowd, to the reflective lenses of the watching cameras, and cleared his throat. He began to speak, in a commanding voice that said clearly that his words must be considered:
"In the last twenty five years, advancements in technology have changed our lives. A typical beginning to a speech to be sure, and rather a weak one, since advancements changed our lives in the quarter century before that too. And the one before that. But recently, technology has taken a different direction. Rather than striving for better, we strive for easier, instead of more comprehensive, we seek less invasive. The shift has been to reduce the human effort necessary to complete tasks by offloading much of the repetitive portions to machines. As the embodiment of technology itself, this is not necessarily a bad thing. But we must examine what we do with the free time we are given. If we used it to concentrate on the purely human aspects of culture, science and life, then technology would have done its duty: to free us from the shackles of the physical world so that we may ponder the intricacies which machines could never understand. Whether as simple as coffee [at this, Zack grinned, and the government representative, also in the front row, winced] or as complex as the new field of sociochaoticism, there are some things that lie purely within our realm. Unfortunately, that is not what is done with our time. We spend it watching Interactive Soap Operas [The husband of the couple seated next to Zack & Rob turned to deliver a pointed glare to his wife, who smiled unconcernedly in response.], reading news factoids culled by our agents so that we don't get the chance to find new areas of interest by searching through ourselves, and playing the ever more realistic and riveting games."
Zack's attention began to wander at this comment, as he pondered the situation he was stuck in in the game Rob had given him. The game was clearly going to be a huge success when released in a couple of weeks, as it was a true audio-visual experience. His current dilemma was of how to convince the proprietor at a tavern to give him some vital information. The guy didn't seem to want money, or anything else Zack could determine. He was damned canny and suspicious too, some of the newer AI's were frighteningly human. They were still extremely limited in the knowledge base from which they could draw, but within their realm of expertise, they could almost beat the Turing test.
The staccato sound of clapping brought back the musing Zack from his ruminations. The professor's speech was finished, and obviously had been well received. As he walked off the stage, the government rep came out. In a cajoling, friendly voice, he began to talk.
"Friends, Dr. Tudibuy's speech was fascinating, and addressed an interesting sociological interpretation of technology. I would like to talk to you about how technology has helped your government to make your lives easier."
"Easier to be monitored!" interjected a voice from behind Zack. Turning, he saw a slim young man, apparently in his early twenties, with long hair and a goatee, both items Zack knew must be costing him in tax percentages, as they were considered unhealthy and wasteful in males by the Food & Drug Administration (the arm of the government that enforced "suggested standards"). He was wearing a Liberty party shirt that said "I OWN THE CONTENTS OF THIS CLOTHING" in large letters on the front, and "YOU DON'T!" on the back, a reference to a main tenet of their platform - that governmental incentives on health were tantamount to ownership of citizens. The dapper, clean shaven official looked down condescendingly from the stage, and continued,
"While some few paranoid individuals believe that we use science to `spy' on citizens (as if we had the resources to do so), most understand the benificial, kind, almost avuncular role of your government. ["It's not my government", whispered Rob. "If it was, I'd tell it go away"]. One of the main aids to society which we provide is the discouragement of unwanted antisocial tendencies. There are many of these nasty habits, which have been psychologically proven to lead to far worse mental disturbances. These habits are, by their very nature, difficult to break, so Uncle Sam is benovelent enough to help the problematic individual to remove his habit. As direct intervention would of course be a violation of human rights, and the misanthropic few are free to be antisocial as long as they accept the consequences, we merely provide a system of incentives that rewards the good, clean, hard-working citizen and penalizes the Bohemian who would disrupt our stable culture. What damages an individual damages everyone, as society is nothing more than a collection of people. No one has the right to harm society without paying some recompense."
Zack nodded, agreeing completely, although he didn't think coffee was that nasty a habit. Mental disturbances? He doubted it. Something about the speech bothered him, but he couldn't isolate what it was. It seemed naggingly wrong, as though he should be listening more carefully and finding a deeper meaning. But the words used were all positively connotated, and he couldn't find any evil in them. After all, Uncle Sam just wanted to help. His thoughts drifted to the subject of coffee, his only real rebellion. At least he had a normal habit, unlike smoking or drinking, which of course were truly nasty and inconceivably damaging.
Clapping once again brought him from the dim pastel world of mental imagery to the bright and crowded lecture hall. The government official, looking pleased with himself, returned to his seat, and the twentysomething who had interrupted earlier strode to the stage.
"Archaism!" rang out from the crowd. An insult derived from the word "archaic," it was commonly applied to anyone holding views that were seen as old-fashioned.
"Uncle Hater!" was hurled at the self-confident Party member from another location in the room, a pejorative that implied disrespect and ingratitude for Uncle Sam's care. Despite his poise, his eyes told the true story which body tried to reveal. They looked hunted and desperate, as though he was doing something vitally important, that, if it failed, would spell disaster. Zack felt vaguely troubled by this, but he dismissed it as mere stage fright. The youth began to speak:
"Greetings, fellow citizens. I say that for, no matter what our disagreements, we are all citizens of this Republic. A republic that, while it has fallen from the lofty heights of its youth, can still be rejuvenated. Technology is not good, it is not evil, it is a tool that can be pointed in any direction. While many are using technology such as public-key encryption, narrow bandwith transmissions, molecular nanotechnology and other fields to safeguard their privacy, "Uncle Sam" uses it to monitor you. That "Uncle" is like the relative who comes to stay for a week, and never leaves, using up more and more of the family's resources. Eventually, they must topple under the weight. Even worse is when, rather than helping, he commands. Rather than suggesting, he insists. Who gave him the right? I never signed away mine. Open your eyes. Look at the real world around you. Health incentives violate our rights to do what we wish with our own bodies. I'm sure that some among you, especially the older ones, had some habits, minor idiosyncrasies that you enjoyed, that are now considered SocioSins. Caffeine, sugar, tobacco, butter - you enjoyed them. And now you are being forced to pay for the right to feel guilty about consuming these foodstuffs! ["This guy is good", said Rob. "But he isn't gonna last the day". "Huh?" whispered Zack.] Use technology to advance knowledge, not to pry! Use mass media to distribute truth, not falsehoods
"Ten creds says this part never makes it to the air. Technical difficulties or some such bullshit," whispered Rob.
"Yeah right," said Zack. "Why would they care?"
Zack tuned out the speech, which seemed a typical Liberty rant. The comments on paying for foodstuffs struck a minor resonant chord, but he muffled the sound. Yet a transient vibration still remained. This time, rather than approval from the crowd, a few scattered claps and the low rumbling murmur of conversation punctuated the speech.
The sound replayed itself in Zack's ears on the way back, and, hours later, it distracted him at dinner.
"Zack! Zachary! I'm talking to you. What is wrong with you tonight?"
"Nothing mother. Just the speech. There was a Freedom of Speech talker at the end, a Party member."
"That's strange, I don't remember that", remarked Zack's father.
"You saw it?" exclaimed Zack.
"Of course. Things were slow at work, and I wanted to see my boy on the transmit. They had some good shots of the back of your head, but not much else. I don't remember any Party Member. There were two speeches, right?"
"No, three," replied a puzzled Zack. "The last one was an anti-Uncle diatribe. They didn't trans it?"
"Nope. It went to commercials right after that guy from the government. That's strange. They probably ran out of their time slot."
"I guess so. But they knew in advance that he was going to talk. The president mentioned it in his intro."
"Are you sure? He didn't say anything about it when I watched. Just mentioned Dr. Tudibuy and the public servant."
The room swam. The implications were staggering. If what his father had said was true, not only had the speaker been cut off, but the president's words had been modified. Zack excused himself, and trans'd Rob on the fiber. His friends face appeared on the screen.
"Hey Z, what's cutting?"
"My dad saw today's speech on a fiber multicast. He says there was no Party guy, and the president didn't mention one in his intro."
"Are you surprised? That sorta thing happens all the time. If you want the real version, there are some private encrypting multicasts. When there's something important, someone in the audience has a portable vidtaper, and he transmits when he gets back, or over a radio link. Often there will be a few people there doing it. Once you hang with the right crowd, you can get the real story on anything. Of course, those are the type of people that don't need to hear it. It is a bit circular. What technology can do, technology can undo."
"Are you serious Rob? I never knew that. You aren't kidding me? I can't believe I never would have noticed."
"Believe it. I can get you into the system. But be careful. This call is encrypted of course (I don't accept plain calls), but when you're doing stuff like that, you have to be more careful. I'll send you some material."
"Uh, I'll have to think about that. Wait until I call you back, ok?"
"Sure, whatever Zach. Later."
Rob's gorgeously rendered signoff appeared, a three dimensional representation of average traffic on the North American datanet with location in two dimensions on a flat map, a height dimension for traffic, and the picture changing at three hours/second until it cycled through all twenty-four hours, and then faded.
Another video call immediately came through the fiber. It was from Zack's history professor. He pressed the "receive" button. His teacher looked a little harried, but he calmly said "Oh, hi, Zack. About that paper. You can disregard the last speech, it wasn't particularly relevant."
"But I thought it was interesting. I want to write on it."
"Don't worry about it. You don't even have to write the paper; I'll give you credit for having been there. Bye"
The call abruptly ended. Zack lay down on his bed, confused, and stared at tonight's ad, this one government sponsored. It showed a large picture of Uncle Sam, looking down benignly. Underneath were the words "I'm here to help," and the look in his eye was kind and reassuring. They had always made Zack feel good before, but after the days events, they seemed cruelly ironic. What really had happened? Was his father misremembering? Or were cover-ups as common as multicasts? Rob had taken it all so matter-of-factly, as if he'd lived his entire life with such events. Perhaps he had. But Zack had always been the staid type, accepting everything said at face value. "Look beneath the surface and you will never see the truth", his father had always told him. Should he get help from Rob? Find out more about the conflict that was plaguing him? Is it more blissful to be ignorant, or to be shocked by the truth? His rut was deep, but the day's events had given him the perspective to see over the edge. He was warm and comfortable, yet his sight of the world beyond had planted a seed of wanderlust that he knew would stay rooted. No choice appealed to him, yet he could not remain forever balanced on the cusp of indecision. The edge was too thin and the slope too steep, and he was teetering from side to side. He stared at the almost blank monitor, which displayed "Awaiting Call..." His mental call had come, and he had to decide whether to change his entire life by choosing to receive, or ignore, knowing that he would never completely rid himself of the desire to know the truth behind the deception. His finger moved towards the button to call Rob, and then hesitated.
Last Modified: September 8th, 1998
Patri Friedman / patri@izzy.com