by Tzvika Barenholz
Knottly
is a small planet. That’s not entirely true, actually. At twice the size
of earth, it’s not physically small at all. But the colony on it is a small
one of only about five hundred inhabitants. Like the residents of any other
small town in the galaxy, the people of Knottly get very few breaks from
the old routine. Even the election for governor every three years counts
as an event where no touring group ever stops by to give a concert or a
show. Everyone got excited when the election committee (a butcher, a schoolteacher
and an engineer) announced they’d be registering the candidates at the
town hall from ten o’clock on Monday.
On Monday morning, all seats
in the town hall were taken by eight-thirty. At ten past ten, Mr. Hefting
the butcher, who also functioned as chairman of the election committee,
used his mallet to open the meeting.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank
you for coming. Everyone who has a candidate to register is welcome to
approach the rostrum and do so. I trust there’ll be no pushing, shoving
or any other form of misconduct."
He sat down, and a woman
in a business suit approached him, shook his hand and then took his place.
"Hello. Most of you probably
know me. For those of you who don’t, my name is Karen Ryan. I’m here to
present to you Ryansoft’s product Cityrunner version 3.3. It is the new
and improved version of the program that has been in office for the last
four years. I have with me the original code along with the compiled program
to submit."
"Thank you, Miss Ryan. Will
the next representative please step up." She nodded at the butcher and
took a seat at the table on the podium where the members of the committee
sat.
A short overweight man started
to walk in the direction of the podium. He looked like he needed a bath
and a haircut more than Knottly needed a governor. He climbed the small
stairway clumsily and finally stood where the previous speakers had stood
before him, half-facing the crowd.
"Hi, my name is Bob." He
stopped for a moment to clean his glasses with a handkerchief. "Well, I
wrote an algorithm I call The King, and, well, I think it can do the governor
gig easily."
"Thank you Bob." Everyone
in the room, including Hefting and the other two, were giggling. Bob always
came up with the most insane sub-procedures. One of the programs he suggested
in the past would have stopped the mail of everyone that paid their taxes
and picked up the garbage from only every other house. But as long as he
presented the code and the compilation, there was nothing they could do
to stop him from running.
Hefting waited a few seconds
to see if anyone else gets up. As he expected, no one did.
"Very well then, we’ve got
two entries: Cityrunner and The King. Both representatives will now participate
in a debate. They will answer any question the public may have after they’ve
debated with each other. Miss Ryan, as the representative of the governor
in office, has the right to begin."
"Thank you, Mr. Chairman.
I really don’t have to say much for Cityrunner. It’s gotten the work done
day in day out for the past six years. During this period, we’ve broadened
the definition of what the governor’s responsibilities are. Distribution
of water, electricity and gas is handled by the governor’s office directly,
instead of the old resources department. We’ve included all computing within
the administration and incorporated almost every economic activity within
the taxation system, to simplify collection. Cityrunner does today what
used to require many human hands, allowing the citizens of Knottly to do
more creative things with their time. The all new version 3.3 is going
to eliminate the need for any kind of office work, including a procedure
for banking and finances. The government will handle every kind of boring
task. That’s what you’ll get for voting Cityrunner. Bob?"
"Oh… well, yes. That sounds
genuinely interesting, Karen, but where’s the fun in it?"
"Government is not supposed
to be fun."
"Oh, but it is! Why would
man invent something as dull as government if he didn’t enjoy it? Don’t
you think bankers know a computer can do their job? Of course they do.
Heck, a manikin can do their job. You want people to quit all the dull
work and become artists and poets. But is that what we really want?"
"No one wants to be a clerk
or a secretary, Bob."
"Everyone does. It’s easier.
We need a governor that does less for us. We need someone to do his job
and not try to take ours, someone like The King."
Hefting stood up and said:
"I think you’ve both made your point. Let’s take some questions. The gentlemen
in the back row, go ahead."
A young longhaired man rose
near the back. He seemed to be out of place, everyone being in suits and
ties and all, but his sloppy look did not prevent him from standing tall
and looking confident. He had to raise his voice to be heard by everyone.
"I have a question for the
lady with Cityrunner."
"Yes?" said Karen.
"Well, I was just wondering,
if Cityrunner is such a great program, why do you have to keep updating
it? Version 3.3 must have been preceded by five earlier version at least."
"More like ten or twelve,
actually. We are constantly working on providing Knottly with the best
service we can."
"That’s very admirable.
Still, I can’t help but think if nothing was wrong with its predecessors,
3.3 would have never been produced."
Sitting on the podium, Karen
Ryan looked undisturbed by these allegations. She spoke to him as a mother
to a confused child: "I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name."
"It’s Neil. Neil Hignet."
"Well Neil, do you know
how many lines of code are there in a program as complex in Cityrunner?"
"Somewhere in the neighborhood
of ten million, probably."
"At least double that. You
realize of course that no one can write anything that long without making
the occasional mistake. We’ve reduced them to a minimum at Ryansoft, but
bugs are always there."
"I see where you’re coming
from. I may be wrong, but I think 3.3 means the fourth version of the third
campaign, right?"
"That’s correct."
"Well, what was wrong with
version 3.0 through 3.2? You designed them to be presented this very day."
"We corrected some flaws."
"But from what you said
before about the volume of work, I gathered that you can only find a bug
if it shows up while the program is running."
"It’s very hard to find
a bug in the code without running the compiled product, yes."
"Then how could you find
out what was wrong with 3.0 or 3.2 if you never ran them?"
"Well…You see-"
"I’ll tell you how. You
did some test runs in the governor’s office. You replaced the elected program
with something else, for your own needs and through it all-"
Hefting interrupted him:
"These are very serious allegations. Miss Ryan, is this true?"
"Mr. Chairman, I fail to
see what is wrong with doing some maintenance work on the governor for
the benefit of Knottly."
"Mr. Hignet?"
"There’s nothing wrong with
it, it’s just not democratic. The sad truth is that the lady is right.
You can’t let a program run three years straight without altering the code
every once in a while. But can we trust the software company to do just
that? What if instead, they changed the entire essence of the application
and make it run things in a way contrary to what the citizens of Knottly
had in mind when they voted for it?"
"With all due respect, Neil,
Ryansoft is no more likely to act the way you suggested than any other
company," she looked at Bob for a second and continued: "or individual."
The butcher nodded in agreement:
"I think Miss Ryan has a point there. If any establishment deserves the
trust of the people of Knottly it’s hers."
"Even after she admitted
to appointing as a ruler an application different than the one we’ve elected?"
Bob leaned forward to get
Hefting’s attention: "If I may step in, Mr. chairman."
"Go ahead, Bob."
"Well, I just want to say
that maybe we can use some form of regulator, set up a council to review
and approve every change in the code. I really don’t think such a technicality
should be our main concern right now."
Neil persisted: "I beg to
differ. The hardware that runs and supports the governing program is law
the responsibility of the supplier. No council could ever stop them from
changing a couple of lines in the code. If anyone ever tries to look for
such infringements, they will be looking for a needle in a haystack. There’s
no practical way to review the changes in the initial code and it is absolutely
impossible to find them once the governor has been recompiled."
Hefting frowned. He obviously
found Neil’s criticism annoying. "Tell me, Mr. Hignet, do you have any
suggestions regarding how to fix all these alleged flaws in the system
or are you just here to waste our time with conspiracy theories?"
"I’m glad you asked. Actually,
I have a very simple solution that will most certainly render all these
doubts irrelevant."
"Enlighten us."
"I would simply like to
suggest an additional candidate."
Karen Ryan laughed: "You
can dish it out, but you can’t deal with it yourself, young man. How will
your software be better protected from the dangers you mentioned just a
couple of minutes ago than any other?"
"You misunderstood me. I’m
not nominating a program of my own. Obviously, that would be double standard
as you pointed out. I’m nominating a person. Myself, to be specific."
Everyone in the room started
talking to whoever was sitting next to them, making a noise resembling
a sold out rock concert. Those who weren’t enraged were laughing uncontrollably.
"Mr. Hignet, this is no
time to be making jokes."
"I can assure you I have
never been more serious in my entire life."
"Well, I’m afraid that the
committee will have to disqualify your candidacy. The charter of Knottly,
as formed by the founders ten years ago is very specific about the subject
of who can run."
"But I am a citizen of Knottly,
am I not?"
"You certainly are."
"Then it is unlawful for
any charter or local law to disallow my election for any political position."
Neil was trying to look tall and proud, as he imagined anyone fighting
for freedom should be.
Hefting banged his fist
on the table and exclaimed: "The sovereign colony of Knottly has the right
to make laws as its founders and citizens see fit. When we came here one
decade ago, we came here to build a home where no rules would be imposed
on us. We came here to live under a government we believed in. There are
many human colonies on habitable planets all around the galaxy, and every
one of them has the right to rule itself. The earth law of ‘jurisdiction
and sovereignty in space 2105’ legitimizes our charter. Do I have to quote
the relevant passage, Mr. Hignet?"
Neil didn’t need to be reminded,
he’d spent many hours reviewing the space colonialism law, as it was referred
to by all. He’s gone over every single subsection and remark and could
still recall the exact words with which earth legislators fired the gunshot
that signaled millions of sprinters to form would be communities and start
racing towards their new homes:
"Since it has been brought
to our attention that technology now allows spaceships to carry men and
women in great numbers to great distances, so that they may even reach
some of the habitable planets known to mankind in our galaxy, we find it
is our duty to regularize the matter of human settlement on any such planets,
particularly in light of our desperate current problem of overpopulation…"
It goes on, Neil didn’t
recall the exact words, to give any group of five hundred or above with
the financial means to pay for the trip the right to one home planet capable
of supporting life. They would have to be a diverse society and include
people with many different skills and professions. The final paragraph
gives any such inhabited planet the option to detach itself from the earth's
legal system and create a new set of laws, as long as every law is voted
on and accepted by the majority of citizens. The lawmakers reasoned that
this is necessary because there is no way for the legal system on earth
to have any control on what happens on a planet light years away.
Hefting’s voice snapped
Neil out of his pensive state of mind and back into what was going on in
the town hall.
"Therefore, the committee
votes unanimously to exclude Neil Hignet from the candidates’ list on the
grounds that he does not fit the criteria stated in the Knottly charter.
Specifically, that he is not now, nor has he ever been a computer program."
Then they resumed the debate
to help the people of Knottly better understand how The King is different
than Cityrunner and which is better. Neil saw little point in sticking
around for that. After making everyone sitting near him get up and give
way, and in the process causing a bit of a commotion, he finally left the
town hall and started in the direction of the pub across the street.
The place was pretty empty,
probably because even the drinkers were attending the event on the other
side of the street. Neil went over to the bar and sat on one of the stalls.
Patrick, the bartender, had been one of his best friends ever since both
his parents and Neil’s decided to join the original Knottly society thirteen
years back, before they were even given the planet.
"Had enough of the old butcher’s
show, right?"
"Something like that. You
know, I did it."
"Did what?"
"You know what. I did what
I told you about yesterday," he checked his watch for the time. It was
five to eleven. "Seven hours ago."
"You’re kidding! I was sure
that was just the liquor talking. You actually put yourself up for election?"
"I most certainly did. You
should have been there, man, just to see the looks on their faces…"
"I can imagine. I guess
they turned you down, right? Probably about five seconds before you went
through my door."
Neil laughed and gulped
down a glass of Bourbon. "You know me too well. I’d have to be insane to
stay there a minute longer than I had to."
"That’s just nonsense. You
didn’t have to go there and make a spectacle out of yourself. You wanted
to do it. What I can’t figure out is why."
Neil’s expression suddenly
turned serious, as he handed Patrick his glass to be refilled. "You’d better
get one for yourself too."
"Oh no, not one of your
prophecies."
"Just pour the alcohol and
sit down."
Patrick was so tired he
could even sit through one of Neil’s numerous pessimistic gazes into the
future of mankind. Then, after he’d sat down on a stall on his side of
the bar, Neil started to speak with a tone and an expression that relayed
severity and importance, though the drink in his hand somewhat countered
that impression.
"My little experiment today
proved what I had suspected for a long a time now."
"That people out here are
morons who want to be ruled by a list of zeroes and ones? We knew that."
Neil seemed impatient. "It’s
not about the elections. The elections don’t mean anything anyway. Ryan’s
program is not a computer application at all. What it really is, is twenty
million lines of code, ninety-nine percent of which does nothing but make
it look big, and the rest simply makes it possible for Karen Ryan to make
all the decisions. It’s just like all those old tricks, a big box with
flashy lights and switches people assume does everything and knows everything.
Cityrunner is just a big robot suit and Karen Ryan is inside running the
show. As for Bob’s script, well it is just plain crazy is what it is. It
doesn’t do anything but irrigate the marijuana fields and drop your mail
in someone else’s box."
Patrick was a bit taken
aback. He half-smiled and said: "I’m not sure which is worse."
"Me neither, but that’s
not what I’m on about. All I learned from my little provocation today is
that Knottly will not change the founder’s rules easily, not even if the
change is suggested by one of us. It’s probably the same with every other
colonized planet."
"Yea well, we’ve managed
to live with the old and the pigheaded so far."
Neil shook his head. "Sure,
everything is under control right now. But things never stay that way.
Pretty soon the state of the colony worlds is going to change, and all
the dormant conflicts will escalate. It’s only a matter of time."
"Until what? Something has
to happen to incite change, it doesn’t just create itself from nothing."
"The way I see it, it’s
all about lebensraum."
"Which is Chinese for wha?"
Neil gave Patrick a harsh
look: "German, actually. Lebensraum means living space, room to expand.
People need that. Nations have fought terrible wars for it."
"You’re kidding me. That’s
the least of our concerns right now. We’ve got hundreds of inhabitable
planets in the galaxy. That’s more lebensraum than we will ever need."
Neil finished another drink
and continued with the zeal of a dedicated lecturer: "You see, that’s exactly
the point. We act like we’ve got all the room we’ll ever need, which is
true enough for now and good for the immediate future as well. But we’re
just mistaking an abundance of resources with an endless supply. Nothing
is endless, Pat. It’s just like they used to treat oil or coal back on
earth. As long as we have a lot of some utilizable resource, we just act
as if we are pumping it from an inexhaustible reservoir. By the time we
realize how far from the truth that notion is, we’ve already depleted our
reserves."
Patrick just got back to
his seat with another bottle. As he poured the drinks, he tried to tackle
Neil’s analogy.
"Aren’t you forgetting something?
I mean, we did waste all our oil carelessly, but eventually we found better,
cheaper ways to obtain energy. Solar energy alone can supply all the power
man needs, on earth and elsewhere, for many millions years. And that’s
just one sun out of many."
"Alright, so we got lucky
as far as energy is concerned, I’ll grant you that. But you can’t replace
planets with some cheaper alternatives. It just won’t work. Right now we
keep the peace by giving planets away to anyone who asks, for free. We
do that because we can’t see far enough into the future to understand that
one day someone’s going to come to the office of space colonization back
on earth with five hundred signatures, pay the transport fee and ask for
a little world to call home. Then, when the computer processes the requests,
the output would be not directions to the allotted world, but an error
message. When they check into it, they’ll find out that they’ve run out
of homes to give away."
"And what will happen then?"
"Simple. They’re going to
look for alternative solutions, like you do when a resource is used up.
They’ll need to find places to house a lot of people. Earth will still
need to unload its population surplus somewhere. They’ll economize."
"But they’ve used all the
planets. What else can they do?"
"They can use them more
efficiently. Just think about it for a minute. Knottly is twice as big
as earth, so it should be able to support twice as many human lives, right?
There are twenty billion of them on earth, Pat."
"So they’ll start sending
people to the sparsely populated colony worlds. That should give us enough
living space for the next million years at least."
"Sure. Except, at that stage,
living space won’t be the problem anymore. They will have resolved that.
But the consequences are what scares me."
"What’s to be scared of?
They can send new blood here anytime as far as I’m concerned. I’ve already
dated every girl in Knottly."
"I wouldn’t mind that part
either. But the space colonialism law gave every group the right to form
their own laws, like our ridiculous rule that allows only computer software
to run for governor. Imagine all the different kinds of insane legislation
they’ve come up with on all the other planets. It’s chaos. And when new
groups arrive, the locals will stipulate that the intruders accept local
law."
"And you think they won’t?"
"Why should they? They’ve
got their own ideals to apply, their own ideas of what a society should
look like. Before you know it, every single planet in the galaxy will be
the scene of a civil war."
"Just like it happened on
earth."
"Yes! That’s exactly what
it’s all leading too. They’re going to go through everything we though
we sorted out on earth. Nationalities, world wars, alliances and blocks
– it’s all going to happen all over again, multiplied by the number of
planets in the galaxy."
"God," Pat sighed. "I’m
glad that won’t happen in my lifetime."
"No, it’s not coming that
soon. But it is coming eventually. Do you know what the worst part is?
Some of the people going through all that will surely remember history.
Yet, they’re bound to repeat it anyway."
The End
Copyright 1999 Tzvika Barenholz
