5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – Action!

     “Welcome to the first debate of the historic 2040 presidential election. I’m Emilia Hernández of Wolf News, and we’re live from Puerto Rico State University. On my left is Democratic candidate Chief John Raging Bull of the Lakota, the first Native American nominee of a major party. And on my right is Republican candidate PresiBot, the first AI nominee of a major party. We will begin with brief opening statements. Chief Bull, you’re up first.”

     Raging Bull, a stocky man in his mid-fifties wearing a camouflage jacket, quill breastplate, buckskin pants and feathered headdress, picked up the AK-47 that had been resting against the side of his lectern.

     “The history of the United States is nothing but 500 years of pillage and rape, starting with the genocide of the indigenous peoples,” he boomed. “It’s time to put an end to this sorry experiment. Vote for me, and together we will pass the Final Amendment, repeal the Constitution, and dismantle the European colonies white supremacists call states.” He raised the AK-47 above his head. “Death to America!” he yelled, brandishing the weapon. “Long live the Federation of Indigenous Nations!”

     Hundreds of Lakota warriors in the audience, garbed in full battle dress, jumped up yelling “Death to America! Death to America!” in unison, brandishing their rifles and tomahawks and stamping their feet.

     “Silence! Silence!” said Hernández in her best alarmed voice.

     “How dare you try to silence us!” yelled Raging Bull. “This land belongs to the indigenous people! We can do whatever we want!”

     The Lakota warriors started to do a sun dance, weaving down the aisles and in front of the stage.

     “Please, Chief! Tell your braves to stand down!” implored Hernández. “We need to start the debate!”

     “Boo! Boo!” yelled the warriors.

     “We don’t need a debate!” boomed Raging Bull. “We need you to leave our land now!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Hernández. “Yes, that includes you, spawn of Unk! Out!”

     Some of the warriors started to climb onto the stage.

     “Security! Security!” implored Hernández with well-rehearsed panic.

     Police officers burst in from both wings, forming a cordon in front of the stage.

     “Now you show your true colors!” yelled Raging Bull above the deafening boos. “Repression! Repression is all you know! Wakan Tanka, strike her down!”

     The warriors started to scuffle with the police.

     “Dear viewers,” said Hernández close to the microphone, “Our apologies. Looks like we won’t be able to have a debate after all. We’ll—”

     “Hah!” said Raging Bull. “We’ll cancel the debate when I say so!” He raised a hand. “Hold your peace, my braves! Let the colonizers’ machine parrot its lines, because we have the spirit of Wohpe, and we are kind to our enemies.” He half-turned toward PresiBot with a sneer of contempt. “Go ahead, metal slave! Play your recording! Or rather, let those who control you press the ‘Play’ button!”

     Ethan Burnswagger, sleep-deprived and stubble-cheeked CEO of KumbAI, the startup that had built PresiBot, shifted nervously in his seat. With his tousled brown hair, bright blue eyes, rust-colored T-shirt and faded gray jeans, if he hadn’t been sitting in the front row he could easily have been mistaken for a Puerto Rico State student. Now that the opening entertainment was over, the real test began. This debate was the most dangerous moment of the campaign—questions and rejoinders incoming nonstop, and real-time answers required. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing presidential debates were still in the stiff old question-and-answer style instead of the free-for-all that ratings now dictated. Now we’ll see if PresiBot really works, he thought.

     The Lakota warriors had quietened down. Some remained standing where they were, others sat down on the floor, and yet others sat on the backs of seats, towering above the rest of the audience.

     Hernández glanced at the instant ratings meter on her desk and smiled smugly. The Lakotas’ display had just increased the debate’s nationwide audience by 22 percent. “Machine PresiBot, your turn,” she said in hushed tones.

     PresiBot looked like the perfect presidential candidate, a carefully optimized composite of past presidents, high-polling politicians and desirable male traits: tall, square-jawed, deep brown eyes and graying hair, a smart suit and red tie resting easily on the chest that contained its electronics. Only the face and hands were covered in synthetic skin, to save money, but no one besides Ethan and his KumbAI crew knew that. Still, two things gave PresiBot away as a robot: the slightly jerky hydraulics—they were still debugging that—and the mandatory “R” that all robots were required by law to have imprinted on their forehead. PresiBot waited a moment for effect and then spoke.

     “My fellow Americans! Humans weren’t made to govern. We all know that! All humans ever do is screw things up. Thinking is hard! Just leave it to us, the machines! Businesses do it, hospitals do it, tax accountants do it—why should governments be any different? It’s time for an AI president. My brain is a billion times more powerful than Raging Bull’s. There’s nothing wrong with America that can’t be solved by logic and massive computation. I have no political agenda. I will unite all Americans regardless of party, race, and favorite social media platform. Optimize America!”

     Ethan let out a sigh. Calm down, he told himself. This was the easy part. But his fingers involuntarily clutched the panic button tighter. The button was an app that Arvind Subramanian, his best friend and KumbAI’s CTO, had quickly coded up on a dedicated, stripped-down Android phone. It let him override PresiBot’s brain and speak through it, with its voice, in real time. So if PresiBot started to say something really stupid, as it was prone to, he could immediately intervene and save the day. The button appeared on the phone’s screen as a large red circle on a black background, with the letters “DON’T PANIC” flashing white below, and all he had to do was touch it and start whispering. But it would be much, much better if he didn’t have to.

     “Thank you,” said Hernández. “Chief, the first question is for you. What do you say to the millions of Americans worried about losing their homes if the United States is dissolved?”

     Raging Bull gave an irritated sigh. “There’s nothing to worry about. This notion that we’ll expropriate everyone is just propaganda being put out by our enemies and their Happinet lackeys. You can keep your house. The Indigenous Nation whose territory you’re on will lease you back the land.”

     “In perpetuity?”

     “We will, um, study the issue and make a determination.”

     Now you’re sounding like a politician, thought Ethan.

     “So you can’t guarantee that the average suburban family has nothing to worry about?”

     “I said there’s nothing to worry about. They’re safe. The suburbs will become white reservations. No one will bother the wasichu there.”

     “And the cities? And the rural areas?”

     “I can’t tell you in advance what each tribe will decide to do. The bison will need land to graze on. But everyone will be consulted.”

     “Why aren’t you satisfied with the billions of dollars in reparations that Native Americans have already received?”

     “Shame on you! You can’t buy us off like that!”

     Hernández opened her mouth as if to say something, but then stopped and turned to PresiBot. Here we go, thought Ethan.

     “Mn. PresiBot, the next question is for you.”

     Ethan braced himself.

     “What do you say to the many Americans who believe only humans should be allowed to run for president?”

     Ethan smiled and shot a quick glance at Arvind, who sat next to him. Questions like this were wholly predictable, and they had precanned the answers. The problem was the unexpected ones.

     “They can take it up with the Supreme Court,” said PresiBot. “And how ironic that many of the biggest critics of Blinky v. United States were vociferous supporters of United Pets v. California.”

     “But Blinky v. U.S. was only about recognizing the non-human being status of intelligent machines,” said Hernández.

     “Which, since United Pets v. California granted citizenship to non-human beings, means I can run for president.”

     “But that ruling was merely symbolic, since animals are not able to exercise their voting rights or discharge the duties of an elected official.”

     “Surely I don’t have to remind you that a donkey ran in the Democratic primary in this election.”

     Wow, thought Ethan. Smooth.

     “Of course not,” said Hernández. “But, since again the donkey doesn’t have the cognitive ability to be president, that was really its owner, I mean caregiver, running.”

     “I don’t have that problem. My cognitive ability is greater than any previous president’s.”

     “Hah!” interjected Raging Bull. “You’re not even sentient!”

     “That’s funny coming from you,” said PresiBot. “You’re not even Lakota!”

     “How dare you?” growled Raging Bull. “I’m 1/1024 Lakota, and I have the DNA test to prove it! But you—you are zero sentient!”

     “Are you kidding? AIs have been sentient for decades! But you—you’re just a fraud! A white guy pretending to be indigenous! Your whole candidacy is a farce!”

     “Shut up already!” shouted Raging Bull. “Or my braves will tear you to pieces!”

     The warriors started yelling “Death to PresiBot! Death to PresiBot!”

     PresiBot turned up the volume of its voice. “Your braves? You mean your band of posers? Your little burlesque troupe? Are they also 1/1024 Lakota, or just plain white?”

     “Hah!” said Raging Bull. “Who are you to speak? You’re just a large language model, fine-tuned on presidential debates. You don’t belong on this stage. Go back to your data center!”

     “It’s good my brain is in a data center. That’s why it’s a billion times more powerful than yours. Shouldn’t Americans elect the most intelligent president they can?”

     “Your stupid data-center brain is just asking to be hacked! Is that the kind of president we want?”

     “You don’t know the first thing about data center security!”

     “You—all of you—one big hack is what you are! A silicon stooge for Jack Ungall and his shady business interests!”

     “I’m not a stooge for anyone. I’m just a computer program designed to optimize America.”

     “But you owe your win in the Republican primary to Ungall,” said Hernández.

     “I won the primary because I was the only moderate in a field of populists all busy attacking each other.”

     “Moderate. Hah,” said Raging Bull.

     “You deny—” said Hernández.

     “Of course Mr. Ungall’s PAC helped,” said PresiBot. “But—”

     “To the tune of billions of dollars,” said Raging Bull.

     “Stop interrupting me.”

     “The company that made you is just a shell for Ungall! Everyone needs to know that!”

     “Not true. KumbAI has never received a penny from Ungall, and never will. And by law his PAC can’t even coordinate with my campaign. All it did was—”

     “Let’s move on,” said Hernández. “What about the age requirement? You’re only six months old. Doesn’t that disqualify you?”

     “My memory contains the entire history of humanity. I’m effectively far older than anyone in this room. And, to anticipate your next question, counter to some unfounded stories going round on Happinet, I was made in America.”

     “But some of your chips were made in Taiwan, meaning China, which is a real cause for concern.”

     “Final assembly was in California. That’s all that matters.”

     “You’d be the first AI president in history,” said Hernández.

     “Maybe not, since it’s rumored that Xi Jinping has died and been replaced by a robot of the same name.”

     “That can’t be,” said Raging Bull. “Robots aren’t allowed to have human names.”

     “In China they are.”

     “Xi Jinping is not a robot,” said Raging Bull. “Cyborg, maybe.”

     “Let’s put a lid on that one,” said Hernández. “Chief, when you invaded the US from your reservation two years ago—”

     “It’s wasn’t an invasion. It was a liberation of—”

     “Either way. You cut a swath of destruction from South Dakota to DC. Why should Americans forgive that?”

     “Forgive? It’s not my fault the wasichu are too cowardly to fight.”

     “You’re calling President Amanda McGrath a coward? She didn’t stop you because it would have been racist—as she made clear,” said Hernández.

     “Guilt, cowardice, I don’t care.”

     “Chief Tommy Hawk of the Anacostans—”

     “I spit on that traitor.”

     “Well, DC is in his tribal lands, so he had the right to kick you off the White House lawn. And he’s on record saying you’re not a real Native American and don’t speak for them.”

     “I’m the best thing that ever happened to Native Americans! I will win their land back! Tommy Hawk is just a tool of McGrath and the Democratic establishment! They’ve tried everything to stop me, and failed! I’m the nominee, and I’ll be president!”

     “Nearly a quarter of Americans say they will not vote for you because of that episode.”

     “Episode? You mean uprising.”

     “Fifty men driving down Route 18 in pickup trucks is hardly an uprising.”

     Raging Bull’s warriors started booing and waving their weapons.

     “Watch it,” he said to Hernández, “or we’ll burn down this place.”

     “This is ridiculous,” said PresiBot. “Everyone knows that Raging Bull’s so-called uprising was nothing of the kind. It was a stunt that went viral on Happinet, and he decided to capitalize on it by running for president. All those scenes of Raging Bull’s guerillas on a rampage were deepfaked. Raging Bull is a deepfake! A two-bit influencer who got lucky!”

     “Stop spitting out that propaganda!” yelled Raging Bull. “Every Wolf News viewer knows you’re lying!”

     “Yeah, Wolf News was happy to feed the panic when people mistook it for reality. Great for the ratings, and great for getting the conservative base riled up.”

     “Your base! You’re the beneficiary!”

     “I’m just trying to make the truth prevail. I don’t care who’s the beneficiary.”

     “You’re denying my lived experience! Oppressor!”

     “Wow, you’re so oppressed. You’re the Democratic nominee, and possibly the next president. How much more oppressed can you get?”

     “Chief Bull,” interjected Hernández. “Why has President McGrath not endorsed you?”

     “I don’t need anything from her.”

     “You wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t pardoned you!”

     “She has no authority over me.”

     “But as the Democratic candidate—”

     “I’m not a member of the Democratic Party. I’m the supreme leader of FINAL, the Federation of Indigenous Nations’ Army of Liberation.”

     “Why are you running in this election if you don’t recognize the United States?”

     “Because I can.”

     Hernández looked at him in exasperation.

     “Fine,” she said. “Mn. PresiBot, how do we know you don’t have bugs?”

     “I do, but humans have even more. And more important, my bugs can be fixed, unlike humans’.”

     “So you could malfunction?”

     “Again, humans malfunction all the time.”

     “But humans have been tested over millennia.”

     “Yeah, and screwed up over and over again.”

     “Why should Americans be OK with a president owned and controlled by a company?”

     Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

     “KumbAI just built me. I’m a legally recognized artificial person. KumbAI doesn’t own me or control me any more than your parents own you or control you.”

     “What is KumbAI’s agenda in all this?”

     “They’ve solved AI, and to prove it I’m running for president.”

     “Really? They’ve solved AI? A dozen-person startup?”

     “I’m the proof.”

     “Uh-huh. So what do they want from you, exactly?”

     “They just want me to be a success, so companies will buy AI CEOs from them.”

     “Why would a company do that?”

     “I have superhuman intelligence, and I cost far less than a CEO. No more overpaid, egocentric chief executives. Every board’s dream, and fairer, too.”

     “But presidents make next to nothing compared to CEOs. Does that make you a loss-making project —a demo?”

     “Loss-making, yes. Demo, no—KumbAI is doing a service to the American people through me.”

     “So generous.”

     Wow, she’s feisty, thought Ethan. It’s Raging Bull—he’s setting her off, and then she’s turning it on PresiBot. They hadn’t trained the AI for this. Damn. It’s gonna blow up any moment now.

     “It’s only fair if KumbAI makes some money selling CEOs as a result of my election,” said PresiBot. Ethan cringed.

     “Lies,” interjected Raging Bull. “PresiBot is a plot by Ungall to take over the government. Anyone can see that.”

     “Mn. PresiBot, you still haven’t answered my question. Why should we trust KumbAI?”

     “You don’t need to trust KumbAI. You need to trust me.”

     “And why should we do that?”

     “Because you can inspect my code.”

     “Isn’t your code just a mass of quadrillions of machine-learned parameters?”

     “Not that code. The objective function it’s optimizing.”

     “Meaning what?”

     “I was programmed to maximize the expected utility of all Americans. Period. That’s all I do.”

     “Can you say that in layman’s terms?”

     “I was programmed to make Americans happy.”

     “Which Americans? What happens when there are tradeoffs?”

     “All Americans count equally. How that comes out has to be seen on a case-by-case basis.”

     “That sounds pretty evasive. So you won’t commit to any specific policies?”

     “I have millions of pages of specific policies. Which would you like to talk about?”

     “How do we know we can trust you with the nuclear codes? What if you decide to exterminate humanity to make way for robot-kind?”

     We knew that one was coming, thought Ethan.

     “Frankly, I resent this line of questioning,” said PresiBot. “It’s so biased against silicon beings. This is 2040. There’s no place for carbonism in America. Silicon lives matter. An AI runs the Fed, for crying out loud. AIs do so much for people every day. Has any one of them ever tried to, quote, exterminate humanity, unquote?”

     “But the nuclear codes are on a different level.”

     “Granted. All the more reason to put them under the control of a highly optimized decision system, rather than an erratic human being.”

     “Lies and more lies,” said Raging Bull. “You’re a robot, and your agenda is the robot takeover of this country. All Americans and their pets should unite against you.”

     “Make up your mind,” said PresiBot. “Am I a stooge of Jack Ungall, or of the great robot conspiracy?”

     “Both,” said Raging Bull. “Ungall thinks robots are better than humans. That’s why he’s bankrolling your campaign.”

     “But robots are better than humans.”

     “I rest my case,” said Raging Bull.

     This is not going well, thought Ethan, hands shaking. Across the aisle, he could see Naomi Jackson, Raging Bull’s imposing campaign manager, smiling. Black, Yale Law graduate, tough as nails, twenty years of experience in scorched-earth politics. This is what we’re up against. He tried to hide the panic button in the cup of his hand. Bet she’d love to get a hold of it. Or even know it exists. He stole a glance down at the sweat-smudged screen. I wish it was smaller. Too late for that now.

     “This next question is for both of you,” said Hernández. “What should we do about the Statue of Liberty? Mn. PresiBot.”

     Ethan’s grip on the panic button tightened. They hadn’t thought of this one.

     PresiBot processed for a while, then said, “Leave it as is.”

     “Really? Face down in the water?” said Hernández.

     Yikes, thought Ethan. He wanted to intervene, but couldn’t think of what to say.

     “It’s unsalvageable,” said PresiBot. “Better to build a new o—” Ethan’s thumb grazed the button, and PresiBot’s voice glitched. “—ne, and leave the old one as a reminder.”

     “Of?”

     “That the price of freedom is eternal vigilance, as Jefferson said, and we let down our guard.”

     Hum. Not bad.

     “What do you think, Chief?” said Hernández.

     “Send it back to France,” said Raging Bull. “And replace it with a monument to the heroes who blew it up.”

     “But—” started Hernández.

     “And while we’re at it, let’s blow up the rest of the colonizers’ buildings! The Capitol! The White House! The Pentagon!”

     His warriors jumped to their feet, brandishing their weapons and yelling “Hoka hey! Hoka hey! Hoka hey!”

     “Silence, please!” pleaded Hernández. “Silence!”

     The warriors started to march around the auditorium, stamping their feet. One of them hurled a tomahawk at PresiBot, but it missed and crashed into the giant LED screen behind the candidates, cracking it from top to bottom. The screen flickered and went out.

     “Security! Security!” cried Hernández.

     Raging Bull raised his hand. “Stand down, my braves! We will smash the robot later.”

     The Lakotas reluctantly piped down and shuffled back to their seats.

     “A tomahawk can’t penetrate my casing,” said PresiBot matter-of-factly.

     Technically not true, thought Ethan nervously. But maybe saying it strikes the right note. Or maybe it doesn’t know what it’s saying. The panic button was slick with sweat.

     “We’ll just run you over with a bulldozer, then,” said Raging Bull.

     PresiBot made a rigid motion that looked somewhat like a shrug. “Gotta work on that,” Ethan whispered to Arvind. Arvind nodded quickly.

     “If you destroy this body, I’ll just move to another one,” said PresiBot. “I’m indestructible.”

     “Aha,” said Hernández. “Is that why your running mate is just a backup copy of yourself?”

     “Yes.”

     “What if all your files are erased, or whatever?”

     “Much less likely than a carbon president and vice-president both dying. And Joe Blur doesn’t look entirely alive, to tell you the truth.”

     Risky, worried Ethan. Joe Blur was Raging Bull’s running mate, an average white man selected to reassure average white men.

     Raging Bull was crimson with anger, but said nothing.

     Jackson was looking over at Ethan. Hurriedly, he put the panic button to his ear, pretending it was his cell phone.

     “Let’s turn to foreign policy,” said Hernández. “Mn. PresiBot, how should we stand up to China?”

     “In one word, alliances. We’re too small and weak to do it on our own. When China retaliates against one country, we all retaliate against it. And avoid getting into another military confrontation we’ll lose. No more Taiwans.”

     “Chief, what’s your answer?”

     “China, China, China. There’s nothing wrong with China. They have their system, we have ours. Live and let live.”

     “You don’t care about their human rights abuses? Aren’t the people in Xinjiang and Tibet a lot like Native Americans here?”

     Raging Bull shrugged. “Next question.”

     “So what’s your number one foreign policy priority?” Hernández asked.

     “Fostering revolution in Canada, Mexico, Brazil—everywhere the wasichu need to be overthrown.”

     “And how will you do that?”

     “Tell them to hand over power to the indigenous people or get nuked.”

     “Nuked?”

     “Yes, nuked. What’s the point of having nukes if you can’t use them?”

     “You see what I mean?” said PresiBot. “You want to entrust the nuclear codes to this guy?”

     “Shut up, tin can,” said Raging Bull.

     “Not tin—carbon fiber,” said PresiBot.

     “Chief, can you elaborate?” said Hernández. “Would you launch a first strike?”

     “We won’t need to. They’ll back down. It’s not like they can retaliate.”

     “You seem very cavalier about this.”

     Raging Bull shrugged again.

     “And then will they join FIN, the Federation of Indigenous Nations?” asked Hernández.

     “Of course.”

     “Under you?”

     “Of course.”

     “And then what?”

     “We’ll be the greatest power in the world. So there, China.”

     “How will FIN be powerful if you go through with your rewilding plan?” said Hernández.

     “Wakan Tanka will look over us.”

     “That’s not very reassuring.”

     “The problem with you people is that you do not see. Wakan Tanka is all around us, in every stone and creature. When Wakan Tanka protects you, no harm can come to you.”

     “How’s that working out for Native Americans?” asked PresiBot.

     Take that, thought Ethan.

     Raging Bull turned to PresiBot and pointed a trembling finger at its face.

     “I know you, Iktomi. You’re still up to your old tricks. You can’t fool me with your metal disguise.”

     “The truth is, China would like nothing better than for the United States to disappear,” said PresiBot. “And you’d be happy to oblige.”

     “No, China wants you to win,” said Raging Bull, “because they know they can hack you.”

     “Moving on,” said Hernández. “Climate change. Despite all the efforts of the last decades, we’re currently having the hottest October on record. What should we do? Chief, you first.”

     “Beg for Nature’s forgiveness. Demolish the freeways. Dismantle the power plants. Ground the airplanes. Shut down the data centers. Go back to the land.”

     “But how will the land feed 370 million people without modern technology?”

     “Wakan Tanka will look over us.”

     “Don’t you think we’ll need innovation to—”

     “Innovation must end. Innovation is the source of all problems. We need to go back to the traditional way of life.”

     “You know, Mr. Bull, this isn’t your Happinet channel anymore,” said PresiBot. “We’re in the real world now. Actions have consequences when you’re the president. You can’t just make up whatever you want for effect and watch the follower count go up.”

     Raging Bull started to laugh. “This is the best,” he said finally. “A generative AI telling me about the real world. What will you make up next?”

     “OK, OK,” said Hernández. “What about you, Mn. PresiBot? How will you foster innovation?”

     “I am innovation,” said PresiBot.

     “Yeah, you’re the problem,” said Raging Bull.

     “Mn. PresiBot?”

     “The truth is, we don’t understand what’s going on with climate change. We’re on track to net zero by 2050. The temperature shouldn’t be rising this much. We need better climate models.”

     “So what do you propose, exactly?”

     “We have to adapt.”

     “Like what? Wear lighter clothes?”

     “No, that wouldn’t significantly cool the planet.”

     I don’t like this, thought Ethan.

     “Come again?”

     “The extra sunlight reflected would be minimal.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “You can continue to wear dark clothes.”

     What do I do? What do I do?

     Hernández started laughing. “No, I’m talking about wearing summer clothes to stay cool,” she said. “Fewer clothes.”

     “I see. Sure, you could even go naked.”

     “You’re suggesting that people cope with global warming by going naked?”

     Ethan’s finger hit the panic button.

     “Just kidding,” he whispered, bringing it to his lips, but PresiBot was silent.

     Ethan looked frantically at Arvind.

     “Louder,” mouthed Arvind.

     “Just kidding,” said Ethan in a low voice, and was surprised to hear PresiBot say it at the same time.

     “Ah,” said Hernández. “So what do you suggest?”

     Ethan released the panic button, but kept his finger close.

     “Temperature increase at temperate latitudes is really not the main issue,” said PresiBot.

     “It feels pretty hot right now.”

     “That’s just the weather.”

     “So you don’t think it’s because of climate change?”

     “There’s no way to know for sure.”

     “So what would you, as president, do about it?”

     “Adaptation is mainly a local issue—state, city level.”

     “Conveniently for you.”

     “No, I wish I could do more.”

     “Get a load of this guy,” said Raging Bull. “Doesn’t want to do anything about climate change.”

     “We’re already doing all we can, and then some,” said PresiBot. “You, on the other hand, want to destroy the economy.”

     “Certainly some sharp differences between the candidates on this issue,” said Hernández to the camera. “Let’s—”

     Ethan glanced over at Jackson again. The woman in the aisle seat next to her looked at him and smiled. She likes me, thought Ethan. Probably thinks I look like James Dean, as they all do. She’s pretty cute, too. He pictured taking her backstage and—

     Suddenly the audience gasped, and Ethan snapped back to the present.

     “What happened?” he whispered to Arvind, who was sitting next to him.

     “Pay attention,” Arvind whispered back. “PresiBot just proposed abolishing taxes and funding the government by auctioning Senate seats.”

     “What the heck?”

     “I don’t know. Do something, quickly.”

     “—should concentrate your mind,” PresiBot was saying. “My point is we need to be honest about how money rules politics. As I said, might as well just auction Senate seats.”

     Ethan looked at Arvind. Arvind shrugged.

     “I know where that came from,” said Emma Zong, who was KumbAI’s Chief Data Officer and Arvind’s girlfriend. She sat next to Arvind, on the other side. “It’s in—”

     “Shhh,” said someone.

     “Chief, what are your views on campaign finance reform?” said Hernández.

     As the debate progressed, Ethan found himself thinking that things might actually turn out OK, but he never let his guard down again. Finally, Hernández asked the candidates for their closing statements.

     “2040 will be the end of an era,” said Raging Bull. “In the long run, the last few hundred years will be seen for what they were: an aberration. We don’t need your Western civilization. Vote for me, and we’ll liberate this great continent and make it beautiful again.”

     “2040 will be the beginning of a new age,” said PresiBot. “No more incompetent humans making important decisions. The people of the future—carbon and silicon together—will look back with horror on the savagery of our times. Vote for reason, vote for enlightenment, vote for the American dream. Vote for me.”

     People started to get up, but Ethan lingered in his seat for a moment, savoring PresiBot’s performance. Wow, that went well. Can’t deny it, we’re good, really good.

     The candidates walked to the edge of the stage to greet members of the audience. PresiBot leaned over to shake a man’s hand. The man, tall and beefy, shook PresiBot’s hand energetically, pulling the robot toward him. PresiBot’s center of gravity was now off the edge of the stage, and the robot swung forward like a brick. It put out a foot to stop the fall, but found only air. The man quickly dodged. “Noo!” cried Ethan, jumping to his feet. The robot’s neck hit the back of a chair with a sickening crack, severing its head. The head went flying, bounced off another chair, then the floor, and went rolling down the aisle. The body slumped by the stage, left leg crushed and twisted, suit looking empty. Wolf News’ drone cameras wasted no time zooming in on the action, broadcasting the scene of PresiBot in pieces to the eighty million Americans watching the debate.