Consensus: Part 1 - Citizen

by Jason Tesar

because the adult discussion leaders stood near the aisle, trying to make eye contact with people passing by.

  One man glanced at Rena’s hand and apparently decided she wasn’t rated well enough to be concerned about school curriculum. He didn’t say a word to her.

  “Hi there,” said a young woman across the aisle.

  Rena tried to look the other way. But she couldn’t help noticing the woman’s blonde hair, twisted into a double helix shape, hanging down to the back of her knees.

  “Are you happy with the current selection of music on the Collective?”

  Rena reluctantly made eye contact, not wanting to be rude. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, did you know that there are thousands of talented musicians who can’t make a living today because the industry is controlled by the votes of adults?”

  Rena shook her head.

  “Young people have the time to vote more often than adults, but your voices won’t be heard unless—“

  “No, thank you,” Rena said, noticing that the woman’s discussion area was an empty ring of chairs. She sped up and continued down the aisle, wishing Dal was at her side. Not only would his presence have been a convenient distraction, but he was one of the only people who understood Rena’s aversion to conversations where the only goal was agreement. But Dal only came to consensus when his parents were available, which was almost never.

  Rena wandered past one booth after another, each one representing some issue deemed appropriate for her age group—school dress codes, city-wide curfew, conversion rates, consequences associated with relationship associations in the system. They were all the same booths as before. In over a year of being absent, none of the topics had changed. None of the progress that the Founder lady had written of.

  “Are you hungry?” asked a short, well-dressed man holding a tray of pastries.

  Over his shoulder, Kirti was engaged in a heated discussion with another girl over something fashion-related. Rena shook her head and moved farther down the aisle.

  What is the point of this if nothing ever changes?

  It seemed like a waste of everyone’s time to discuss the same topics over and over again. Especially when they just ended up voting with the average anyway. Rena wondered how often laws ever got overturned. Was there some metric within the system for how long a law had remained the same?

  At the back of the room was a row of booths dedicated to larger social and political issues. Rena remembered it being vacant most of the time. To her surprise, there were actually a handful of kids speaking one-on-one with the adult leaders. It was still the least occupied place in the room, but the small indication of change was encouraging.

  Before she realized what she was doing, Rena had drifted close to one of the conversations. And to her horror, she recognized Lukas as one of the students.

  He turned his head.

  Rena looked away, her eyes settling on the text floating above one of the terminals. Hundreds of layers of information sat atop one another, and the first one had something to do with the disparity of ratings between the segments of the city.

  “Rena!”

  It was too late now to pretend she hadn’t noticed him. “Hi,” she said with more kindness than she intended.

  Lukas seemed happy to see her. “This is Dr. Kalmus. He used to teach at the university in Segment Eleven.”

  Rena shook the doctor’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Dr. Kalmus was only a few centimeters taller than Lukas but much wider. And his loose-fitting, brown suit made his girth even more pronounced. He had thick glasses and a receding hairline, with tight, dark curls that clung to the sides and back of his head.

  “This is the one you told me about from your debate class?” he asked Lukas.

  “Actually, it was social studies,” Lukas replied.

  Rena suddenly felt flushed. Why was Lukas talking to anyone about me? Does that mean something? What did he tell him? But the only thing she revealed on the outside was a polite smile.

  “I guess a little debate is inevitable when you’re speaking with an intelligent person,” Lukas added.

  Dr. Kalmus nodded.

  Intelligent? You said my argument was emotional! “Does that mean you’ll be ready for another round tomorrow?” she asked, sounding perfectly composed.

  Lukas squinted before the corner of his mouth turned up. “Absolutely.”

  His eyes seemed bluer than what should have been legal. It was impossible to look straight at them without being affected by their influence. Rena wondered how many citizens in Esh would agree that beautiful people should have to wear bags over their heads during debates. In the interest of fairness.

  “Lukas and I were just discussing how each segment has its own subculture. Have you made any such observations?”

  “I’ve never lived outside of Segment Three,” she replied, realizing her response wasn’t entirely true. Before her adoption, she’d apparently grown up in an orphanage in Segment Eight, but that was only what she’d been told. She couldn’t remember being there until after the police had found her in a dumpster and had taken her back.

  “Oh … well, we could always discuss something else. Do you have any questions? Anything you’re interested in learning about?”

  Rena shrugged. She always had questions, but most people didn’t want to talk about the things that interested her.

  “Aren’t you deeply concerned about how the current fashion trends will be reflected in the school dress code?” Lukas asked with a grin.

  Rena glanced down at her dress. What’s that supposed to mean? Is he insulting me? Does he think I don’t care about how I look, or is that his attempt at humor? “No, I’m not,” she answered, looking up again. “That subject is well represented by people with more credits than me.”

  Lukas’s eyes went to his rating.

  She hoped she’d made him feel self-conscious about how high it was.

  “What did you think of the message today?” Dr. Kalmus asked, turning his attention back to Lukas. He’d obviously given up trying to pull Rena into a conversation.

  “I always enjoy reading from the Founders. Their writings are so …”

  “Complex?”

  “I was going to say precise.”

  “Ah,” Dr. Kalmus said, nodding. “Yes. It’s a shame they’re losing votes. A few of the more obscure works are difficult to find on the Collective. It seems that citizens don’t value them the way they used to.”

  “Or they don’t have the capacity to understand the concepts.”

  Rena smiled. If these two were actually interested in having a discussion, why not discuss the obvious contradiction? “Yeah … I do have a question about that.”

  Dr. Kalmus adjusted his glasses. “Please.”

  “If the goal is to continually improve ourselves, as Abigail McCormack said, then why are we so concerned with preserving her writings?”

  Dr. Kalmus tilted his head.

  “They’re losing votes, which means that citizens are no longer interested in what the Founders had to say. And if agreement is truth,” Rena said, motioning to Lukas, “then we should be happy about it. We’re discovering the truth of their irrelevancy.”

  Lukas shook his head.

  “Well,” Dr. Kalmus replied, “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard it put that way.”

  “You mean, so offensively?” Lukas added.

  Rena held up her hands. “I’m not saying I necessarily agree or disagree with the Founders. I’m just asking a question. It seems like a contradiction to me, to say truth is something that emerges from our agreement, and then to have a problem with what’s currently emerging.”

  “I see what you mean,” Dr. Kalmus replied. “Perhaps it would be beneficial to think of it in another way. The writings encapsulate the Founders’ original vision. Without this basis of understanding, truth will not emerge from our consensus.”

  Lukas nodded. “When I said agreement is truth, I was assuming an agreemen
t that included the perspectives of the Founders. Not something completely separated from them.”

  “We must think of the Founders as being alive today, participating in the discussion,” Dr. Kalmus added. “If their input is removed from the conversation, we will lack an essential ingredient in discovering truth. And that is what is happening.”

  “Exactly,” Lukas said.

  Rena smiled as she saw another hole in their logic. But she decided to save her argument for another time. “That’s a great explanation, Dr. Kalmus. I’ll have to think about what you said.”

  “Thank you, Rena. And yes, please do give it some thought. I’ll be interested to hear what other questions occur to you by next Sunday.”

  “Oh yeah,” Lukas said. “I guess it is time to go.”

  Rena looked around and realized the other young adults were making their way out of the room. Her time was already up, and she wasn’t sure if her questions had been interpreted as honest curiosity or just plain hostility. This discussion could have a negative impact on her rating.

  “Don’t forget to vote this week,” said Dr. Kalmus. “There’s a lot of information on the Collective, but if it seems overwhelming, just pick one issue. Or perhaps one per day. The key is to be consistent. Over time, you’ll find yourself better informed and caring about more and more issues. Voting will become a habit, and then it won’t require so much work. That’s what I do.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Kalmus. I’ll try that. And it’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’ll see you next week,” Rena said, as politely as possible. Then she turned and left, melding in quickly with the other students in case