Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [182]
“I leave a note on the couch, saying that I couldn’t sleep and went for a run.”
“Ah.”
It was interesting to think of friends who would believe that, and what it said about her.
“But I should start back in a while.”
“Damn.”
She sighed. “We need to talk.”
“Good.”
“Tell me—do you think elections matter?”
“What? Well, sure. I mean, what do you mean?”
“I mean, do you think they really matter?”
“Hmmm,” Frank said.
“Because I’m not sure they do. I think they’re just a kind of theater, you know, designed to distract people from how things are really decided.”
“You sound like some of my colleagues at work.”
“I’m being very scientific, I’m sure.” Her smile was brief and perfunctory. “You know this futures market I’m supervising?”
“Sure. What, are they betting on the election now?”
“Of course, but you can do that anywhere. What my group is betting on has more to do with potential side-effects of the election. Or, now I’m thinking it’s more like causes.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are people who can have an influence on the results.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like, a group involved with voting-machine technology.”
“Uh oh. You mean like tweaking them somehow?”
“Exactly.”
“So your futures market is now going bullish on certain people involved with voting technology?”
“That’s right. And not only that, but some of those people are my husband and his colleagues.”
“He’s not doing what you’re doing?”
“Not anymore. He’s moved again, and his new job is part of this stuff. This group may even be the originators of it.”
“A government agency working on fixing elections? How can that be?”
“That’s the way it’s evolved. The voting system is vulnerable to tampering, so there are agencies trying to figure out every way it can happen, so they can counter them. They pass that up the chain to be used, and then one of the more politicized agencies takes that information and makes sure it gets into the right hands at the right time. And there you have it.”
“You sound like it’s happened already before?”
“I think the Cleland Senate loss in Georgia looks very suspicious.”
“How come that isn’t a huge scandal?”
“The best evidence is in a classified study. Meanwhile, since it’s been a rumor, it’s treated like all the other rumors, many of which are wrong. So actually, to have the idea of something broached without any subsequent repercussion is actually a kind of, what. A kind of inoculation for an event you don’t want investigated.”
“Jesus. So how does it work, do you know?”
“Not the technical details, no. I know they target certain counties in swing states. They use various statistical models and decision-tree algorithms to pick which ones, and how much to intervene.”
“I’d like to see this algorithm.”
“Yes, I thought you might.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a data disk in a paper sleeve. She handed it to him. “This is it.”
“Whoah,” Frank said, staring at it. “And so . . . What should I do with it?”
“I thought you might have some friends at NSF who might be able to put it to use.”
“Shit. I don’t know.”
She watched him take it in.
“Do you think it matters?” she asked again.
“What, who wins the election, or whether there’s cheating?”
“Both. Either.”
“Well. I should think election fraud is always bad.”
“I suppose.”
“How could it not be?”
“I don’t know. It’s seems like it’s been mostly cheating for a while now. Or theater at best. Distracting people from where the decisions are really made.”
“But something like this would be more than theater.”
“So you think it does matter.”
“Well . . . yeah.” Frank was a little shocked that she would even wonder about it. “It’s the law. I mean, the rule of law. Lawful practice.”
“I suppose so.” She shrugged. “I mean, here I am giving this to you, so I must think so too. So, well—can you help fix it?”
He hefted the CD in its sleeve. “Fix the fix?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to, sure. I don’t know if I can.”
“It’d be a matter of programming I guess. Reprogramming.”
“Some kind of reverse transcription.”
“Sounds good. I can’t do it. I can see what’s happening,