The Circle (24 page)

“C’mon, Mae. You have to understand how much this means to me. I’m not some stud.
This is a rare occasion for me, to have something like this happen. Can’t I keep a
memento of the experience?”

“You can’t worry,” Annie said.

They were in the Great Room of the Enlightenment. In a rare occurrence, Stenton was
to give the Ideas talk, with the promise of a special guest.

“But I
am
worrying,” Mae said. She’d been unable to concentrate in the week since her encounter
with Francis. The video hadn’t been viewed by anyone else, but if it was on his phone,
it was in the Circle cloud, and accessible to anyone. More than anything, she was
disappointed in herself. She’d let the same man do the same thing to her, twice.

“Don’t ask me again to delete it,” Annie said, waving to a few senior Circlers in
the crowd, members of the Gang of 40.

“Please delete it.”

“You know I can’t. We don’t delete here, Mae. Bailey would freak. He’d weep. It hurts
him personally when anyone even considers the deleting of any information. It’s like
killing babies, he says. You know that.”

“But this baby’s giving a handjob. No one wants that baby. We need to delete that
baby.”

“No one will ever see it. You know that. Ninety-nine percent of
the stuff in the cloud is never seen by anyone. If it even gets one view, we can talk
again. Okay?” Annie put her hand on Mae’s. “Now watch this. You don’t know how rare
it is to have Stenton doing the address. This must be big, and it must involve some
kind of government thing. That’s his niche.”

“You don’t know what he’s about to say?”

“I have some idea,” she said.

Stenton took the stage without an introduction. The audience applauded, but in a way
that was markedly different from the way they had for Bailey. Bailey was their talented
uncle who had saved every one of their lives personally. Stenton was their boss, for
whom they had to act professionally and clap professionally. In a flawless black suit,
no tie, he walked to the center of the stage, and without introducing himself or saying
hello, he began.

“As you know,” he said, “transparency is something we advocate here at the Circle.
We look to a guy like Stewart as an inspiration—a man who’s willing to open up his
life to further our collective knowledge. He’s been filming, recording, every moment
of his life now for five years, and it’s been an invaluable asset to the Circle, and
soon, I bet, to all of humankind. Stewart?”

Stenton looked out to the audience, and found Stewart, the Transparent Man, standing
with what looked like a small telephoto lens around his neck. He was bald, about sixty,
bending slightly, as if from the weight of the device resting on his chest. He got
a warm round of applause before sitting down.

“Meanwhile,” Stenton said, “there’s another area of public life where we want and
expect transparency, and that’s democracy. We’re lucky to have been born and raised
in a democracy, but one that is
always undergoing improvements. When I was a kid, to combat back-room political deals,
for example, citizens insisted upon Sunshine Laws. These laws give citizens access
to meetings, to transcripts. They could attend public hearings and petition for documents.
And yet still, so long after the founding of this democracy, every day, our elected
leaders still find themselves embroiled in some scandal or another, usually involving
them doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Something secretive, illegal, against
the will and best interests of the republic. No wonder public trust for Congress is
at 11 percent.”

There was a wave of murmuring from the audience. Stenton fed off it. “Congressional
approval is actually at 11 percent! And as you know, a certain senator was just revealed
to be involved in some very unsavory business.”

The crowd laughed, cheered, tittered.

Mae leaned to Annie. “Wait, what senator?”

“Williamson. You didn’t hear? She got busted for all kinds of weird stuff. She’s under
investigation for a half-dozen things, all kinds of ethical violations. They found
everything on her computer, a hundred weird searches, downloads—some very creepy stuff.”

Mae thought, unwillingly, of Francis. She turned her attention back to Stenton.

“Your occupation could be dropping human feces on the heads of senior citizens,” he
said, “and your job approval would be higher than 11 percent. So what can be done?
What can be done to restore the people’s trust in their elected leaders? I am happy
to say that there’s a woman who is taking all this very seriously, and she’s doing
something
to address the issue. Let me introduce Olivia Santos, representative from District
14.”

A stout woman of about fifty, wearing a red suit and a yellow floral scarf, strode
from the wings, both arms waving high over her head. From the scattered and polite
applause, it was clear that few in the Great Hall knew who she was.

Stenton gave her a stiff hug, and as she stood beside him, her hands clasped in front
of her, he continued. “For those who need a civics refresher, Congresswoman Santos
represents this very district. It’s okay if you didn’t know her. Now you do.” He turned
to her. “How are you today, Congresswoman?”

“I’m fine, Tom, very fine. Very happy to be here.”

Stenton offered his version of a warm smile to her, and then turned back to the audience.

“Congresswoman Santos is here to announce what I must say is a very important development
in the history of government. And that is a move toward the ultimate transparency
that we’ve all sought from our elected leaders since the birth of representative democracy.
Congresswoman?”

Stenton stepped back and sat behind her on a high stool. Representative Santos moved
to the front of the stage, hands now entwined behind her, and swept her eyes over
the room.

“That’s right, Tom. I’m as concerned as you are about the need for citizens to know
what their elected leaders are doing. I mean, it is your right, is it not? It’s your
right to know how they spend their days. Who they’re meeting with. Who they’re talking
to. What they’re doing on the taxpayer’s dime. Until now, it’s been an ad hoc
system of accountability. Senators and representatives, mayors and councilpersons,
have occasionally released their schedules, and have allowed citizens varying degrees
of access. But still we wonder, Why are they meeting with that former-senator-turned-lobbyist?
And how did that congressman get that $150,000 the FBI found hidden in his fridge?
How did that other senator arrange and carry out trysts with a series of women while
his wife was undergoing cancer treatment? I mean, the array of misdeeds carried out
while these officials were being paid by you, the citizenry, is not only deplorable,
not only unacceptable, but also unnecessary.”

There was a smattering of applause. Santos smiled, nodded, and continued.

“We’ve all wanted and expected transparency from our elected leaders, but the technology
wasn’t there to make it fully possible. But now it is. As Stewart has demonstrated,
it’s very easy to provide the world at large full access to your day, to see what
you see, hear what you hear and what you say. Thank you for your courage, Stewart.”

The audience applauded again for Stewart with new vigor, some of them guessing what
Santos was about to announce.

“So I intend to follow Stewart on his path of illumination. And along the way, I intend
to show how democracy can and should be: entirely open, entirely transparent. Starting
today, I will be wearing the same device that Stewart wears. My every meeting, movement,
my every word, will be available to all my constituents and to the world.”

Stenton got off his stool and made his way to Santos. He looked out to the assembled
Circlers. “Can we give Congresswoman Santos a round of applause?”

But the audience was already clapping. There were whoops and
whistles, and Santos beamed. While they roared, a technician emerged from the wings
and hung a necklace around Santos’s head—a smaller version of the camera Stewart had
been wearing. Santos held the lens to her lips and kissed it. The audience cheered.
After a minute, Stenton raised his hands, and the crowd quieted. He turned to Santos.

“So you’re saying that every conversation, every meeting, every part of your day will
be broadcast?”

“Yes. It will all be available on my Circle page. Every moment till I sleep.” The
audienced applauded again, and Stenton indulged them, then again asked for quiet.

“And what if those who want to meet with you don’t want a given meeting to be broadcast?”

“Well, then they will not meet with me,” she said. “You’re either transparent or you’re
not. You’re either accountable or you’re not. What would anyone have to say to me
that couldn’t be said in public? What part of representing the people should not be
known by the very people I’m representing?”

The applause was drowning her out.

“Indeed,” Stenton said.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Santos said, bowing, putting her palms together in a posture
of prayer. The applause continued for minutes. Finally, Stenton gestured for calm
once more.

“So when are you starting this new program?” he asked.

“No time like the present,” she said. She pushed a button on the device around her
neck, and there it was, the view from her camera, projected on the giant screen behind
her. The audience saw itself, with great clarity, and roared with approval.

“It begins now for me, Tom,” she said, “And I hope it begins soon
for the rest of the elected leaders in this country—and for those in every one of
the world’s democracies.”

She bowed, she put her hands together again, and then began to walk off the stage.
As she was nearing the curtains at stage-left, she stopped. “There’s no reason for
me to go that way—too dark. I’m going this way,” she said, and the lights in the auditorium
came on as she stepped down to the floor, into the bright light, the room’s thousand
faces suddenly visible and cheering. She walked straight up the aisle, all the hands
reaching to her, grinning faces telling her thank you, thank you, go forth and make
us proud.

That night, in the Colony, there was a reception for Congresswoman Santos, and she
continued to be swarmed with new admirers. Mae briefly entertained the notion of trying
to get close enough to shake her hand, but the crowd around her was five deep, all
night, so instead Mae ate from the buffet, some kind of shredded pork that had been
made on campus, and waited for Annie. She’d said she would try to make it down, but
was on a deadline, preparing something for a hearing at the EU. “They’re whining about
taxes again,” she said.

Mae wandered the room, which had been decorated in a vaguely desert theme, with smatterings
of cacti and sandstone in front of walls of digital sunsets. She saw and said hello
to Dan and Jared, and a few of the newbies she’d been training. She looked for Francis,
hoping he wouldn’t be there, but then remembered, with great relief, that he was at
a conference in Las Vegas—a gathering of law enforcement agencies he was introducing
to ChildTrack. As she wandered, a
wallscreen sunset faded to make way for the face of Ty. His face was unshaven, and
there were bags under eyes, and though he was clearly and thoroughly tired, he was
smiling broadly. He was wearing his customary oversized black hoodie, and took a moment
to clean his glasses on his sleeve before looking out at the room, left and right,
as if he could see them all from wherever he was. Maybe he could. The room quickly
hushed.

“Hey everyone. Sorry I can’t be there with you all. I’ve been working on some very
interesting new projects that are keeping me away from incredible social activities
like the one you’re enjoying. But I did want to congratulate you all on this phenomenal
new development. I think it’s a crucial new step for the Circle and will mean a great
deal to our overall awesomeness.” For a second he seemed to be looking at whoever
was operating the camera, as if confirming he’d said enough. Then his eyes returned
to look into the room. “Thank you all for your hard work on it, and let the party
truly begin!”

His face disappeared, and the wallscreen again displayed the digital sunset. Mae chatted
with some of the newbies in her pod, some of whom hadn’t seen any live addresses from
Ty before, and were close to euphoric. Mae took a picture, zinged it and added a few
words:
Exciting stuff!

Mae picked up her second glass of wine, deciding how she could do so without taking
the napkin under it, which would serve no purpose and end up in her pocket, when she
saw Kalden. He was in a shadowy stairwell, sitting on the steps. She meandered her
way over to him, and when he saw her, his face brightened.

“Oh hi,” he said.

“Oh hi?”

“Sorry,” he said, and leaned into her, intending a hug.

She recoiled. “Where have you been?”

“Been?”

“You disappeared for two weeks,” Mae said.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? And I’ve been around. I looked for you one day
but you looked busy.”

“You came to CE?”

“I did, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

“And you couldn’t leave a message somehow?”

“I didn’t know your last name,” he said, smiling, as if he knew far more than he was
letting on. “Why didn’t you contact
me
?”

“I didn’t know your last name, either. And there’s no Kalden listed anywhere.”

“Really? How were you spelling it?”

Mae began to enumerate the permutations she’d tried, when he interrupted.

“Listen, it doesn’t matter. We both screwed up. And now we’re here.”

Mae stepped back to take him in, thinking maybe, somewhere on him, she would find
some clue as to whether or not he was real—a real Circler, a real person. Again he
was wearing a snug longsleeve shirt, this one with narrow horizontal stripes in greens
and reds and browns, and again he had maneuvered his way into very narrow black pants
that gave his legs the look of an inverted V.