Echo Chamber

by A. C. Fuller

  "It's a good story, Ms. Negative Nancy."

  "Ugh, fine, read the lede."

  "'According to a weighted average of recent polling done by Reuters, Quinnipiac, Rasmussen, and CNN, a generic third-party candidate is now polling at twenty-six percent in the 2020 presidential race.'" Steph's face takes on a self-important seriousness and she makes her voice a little deeper. It's an impression of Alex, who annoys the hell out of everyone around him by speaking in an exaggerated news anchor voice from time to time. "'Specific candidates don't do as well, but are also polling at numbers not seen in the last thirty years. Leading the pack is Texas minister and Ameritocracy candidate Marlon Dixon, who polls at fifteen percent. Peter Colton, the billionaire founder of Colton Industries, is only slightly behind, at twelve percent.'"

  "That's based on polls from last week," I point out. "I'm sure Dixon is lower now."

  Steph nods. "Look, Mia, I know you're bummed right now. But twenty-six percent of Americans now support a third party candidate. That's because of you. Us. And it means that whoever wins Ameritocracy has a real shot."

  "Maybe, but not much of one. Look at the numbers. If Dixon was at fifteen percent before, he'll be at ten now. And if Peter wins this thing, well, I don't think he'll be able to win in the general election but…" I trail off as a disturbing thought comes to mind.

  "What?" Steph asks.

  "I was just thinking, why is Peter running?"

  "Um, to be president?"

  "Maybe." I stare down at Post-it, who purrs warmly on my lap.

  Despite the fact that Ameritocracy has exploded in the popular consciousness over the last year, our winner is still a long shot to win the general. Peter knows this. While some other candidates are running to espouse deeply held beliefs, including a belief in their own ability to win, Peter is calculating enough to know he has very little chance of actually becoming president.

  I look back at Steph. "Peter must know that whoever wins Ameritocracy is a long shot to win in the general election. And he's certainly powerful enough already. Why bother?"

  "Never really thought about it. People with power usually want more power, right?"

  "Where are the Democratic and Republican parties polling? In the FiveThirtyEight article, I mean."

  "Hold on." Steph scans the article on her phone. "Generic third party candidate polling at twenty-six, Republicans at thirty-one, Dems at thirty-five, leaving eight percent undecided."

  "That's it."

  "What's it?"

  "There's a gap of only four points between the Democrats and Republicans. That's pretty typical for a final election result in a two-party race. From the beginning, what's been our biggest concern?"

  "ATMs and coffee makers voting for cartoon characters who are secretly paid off by Babyshredder Grenades Incorporated?"

  I give her a look.

  "Okay," she says. "It's that we'll end up with a winner who has no chance in the general election. A spoiler."

  "Right. If Tanner Futch wins he'll grab a percentage of far-right voters, enough to tip the election to a Democrat. Same with Avery Axum, though in a different way. He'd grab a percent of moderate Republicans and tip the election to the Dems. Likewise, Justine Hall or Maria Ortiz Morales could tip the election to the Republicans."

  "We've been over this. We knew there was a risk. But they could also win!"

  "Possibly, but maybe Peter doesn't want to win. Maybe the reason he's been talking out of both sides of his mouth is that he wants to stay in the center, use his celebrity and charisma to win Ameritocracy. Then, assuming he can't win the general, tip the election to whoever he wants."

  "That's pretty damn cynical."

  I shoot out of my chair, causing Post-it to leap down and take shelter behind a drooping potted plant. "He'll be able to choose the next president. Think about it. If he wins Ameritocracy, he'll have all the leverage. If he makes an aggressive pivot to the right, he can tip the election to the Democrats. An aggressive pivot to the left, he can tip it to the Republicans. All he needs to do is pivot hard and count on our echo chambers to do the rest. Remember, he'd only need to siphon off five or six percent of the vote, as things stand now. What did you say he was polling at?"

  "Twelve percent, but—" She stops mid-sentence and gives me a concerned look. "You really think he's that…Machiavellian?"

  I don't know how to answer. Maybe I just don't want to. "How are things with Benjamin?"

  "They're fine…we've already talked about…wait, why did you ask that right then?"

  "I don't know."

  "C'mon, Mia, what are you thinking?"

  The nagging voice has grown louder over the last fifteen minutes. You're out of your league and Ameritocracy was a terrible idea.

  "Are you sure we shouldn't shut this thing down?" I haven't wanted to say it aloud. Haven't even wanted to admit it to myself. As I hear myself saying it, though, I know it's what I've been thinking since the day Peter entered.

  Steph's eyes open wide, then close. "That's what's been on your mind?" she asks softly.

  I say nothing.

  After a long minute of silence, Steph opens her eyes. "Absolutely not."

  "I know."

  "First of all, we'd probably get sued by the candidates and the donors. Fraud, raising money under false pretenses."

  "You're right. I know."

  "Plus—and I can't believe I have to convince you of this after you've inspired the whole country—Peter might not win. There's a long time to go. You need to delete the pity party app on your phone, Mia."

  I'm ashamed for even bringing it up. "I know. We can't do that to the other candidates. There's a long time to go." I say the words with as much conviction as I can muster, hoping that repeating them might convince me.

  "You need to be cheered up," Steph says.

  "And how do you propose to do that?"

  "I've got news. Malcolm is booked to play the finale."

  "That's great. How much?"

  "Free. We're only paying travel. He said to count it as an in-kind donation."

  For the last couple months, Malcolm has been on tour with Dolly Parton, coming out once a night to do a set of three of her classic songs, remixed with EDM backing tracks. For Dolly, it's been a great way to make her music new again and connect with younger fans.

  And it's been the biggest break of Malcolm's career. Since Dolly only plays a few shows a week, Malcolm has used his off days to play some of the hottest clubs in the country. His tracks on YouTube have been racking up views, his downloads are through the roof. Steph follows his career developments online and shares them with me, but lately I've been reluctant to watch.

  Steph slides her chair around the desk and taps at her phone, propping it up so we can both watch. "You see this yet? It was on last night."

  A YouTube video begins on the small screen. I figure it's another video of Malcolm DJing, but instead he's sitting on the set of a talk show, wearing black slacks and a blue blazer over a Golden State Warriors t-shirt. His usual style.

  An attractive host sits behind a desk, sipping from a coffee mug stamped with the logo for BET Music News.

  "Why country music?" she asks. Her voice is sweet and, if I'm not mistaken, a bit flirty. A twinge of jealousy hits me, but I stuff it down.

  Malcolm smiles. "I don't know, you know? When I was a kid we listened to everything. Mostly hip-hop, of course, growing up in Oakland. Hip-hop and rap were everywhere. But I couldn't rap, couldn't sing. I played piano a little, but I fell in love with DJing."

  "You've caught on lately mixing country music, though. You're blowin' up."

  "It's weird, right? I love old country and Americana, especially the places where the genres intersect with blues or jazz. Ella Fitzgerald, Johnny Cash, B.B. King, DeFord Bailey. Back then, it was like rap used to be: music for people who didn't have anything except music. Some of the new country...well, I take a pass on that. Woody Guthrie, though? Dude was fire. I think of my music as Americana EDM."
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br />   "And how did the partnership with Dolly begin?"

  "Dolly is great. I got booked to play at a club in Emeryville called Hello Dolly. I didn't know it had anything to do with her until I got there to set up. Half an hour before I'm supposed to go on, she shows up backstage and is like, 'I'm a big fan of what you did with the Johnny Cash track.' Well, she probably didn't say 'track' but you know what I mean. I'm standing there, about to go on stage, and she's all, 'Can you do a mix for me?' Long story short, I spent thirty minutes backstage on my laptop, throwing something together to go with her song 'Jolene,' and we improvised it live on stage. She's such a pro."

  "And the video went viral?"

  Malcolm's been on some podcasts and done a few radio hits, but I think this is his first TV appearance. He's playing it cool, but I can tell he's nervous. "It did and now…" Malcolm raps his knuckles on the desk in a kind of flourish. "Well, here I am."

  The host leans forward and pats his hand. "There you are indeed."

  The audience lets out the sort of Ooooohhhhhhh they always do when a host flirts with a guest on a talk show.

  The host glances at the audience. "I think they want to know what I want to know. How's the sudden fame treating you? You worked in Silicon Valley for the last few years, now you're on a national tour. Are you…enjoying yourself?"

  Malcolm leans back cooly and smiles. "The road is great, but I miss my mom." The audience offers up long awwwwwwwww. "She's back in Oakland."

  I pause the video. "When I met him, the day I made the presentation to Peter and won the Project X money, he had a sticker on his computer. I was nervous, and I used the sticker as an excuse to talk to him. It was a fake political sticker. Willie Nelson for President."

  Steph chuckles. "He couldn't have picked a black dude?"

  She tries to start the video again, but I stop her.

  "What?" she asks.

  "Thanks. I feel a little better, but we've got work to do."

  Steph walks to the doorway. Looking back, she says, "Touch your cheeks, Mia."

  "What?"

  "You know I love you, right?"

  "Sure, why?"

  "When you're jealous, your cheeks get hot."

  "I'm not—"

  Steph holds up a hand like she's about to speak, then turns abruptly and walks out.

  I touch my face gently with the tips of my fingers.

  I'm burning up.

  6

  I do what I always do when I'm jealous of Malcolm's newfound success, a success that includes (I assume) countless women throwing themselves at him every night.

  I make up an excuse to text him.

  Since he used to work for Peter, I've already asked him whether he knew Peter planned to enter Ameritocracy, and he didn't. But now I'm armed with a new theory, a theory I want to test on Malcolm. I don't want to come right out and ask him, so I start with some flirtation.

  Me: Saw the BET thing. You looked good, but you gotta get a new t-shirt.

  Under my message, the word "Delivered" appears. I stare at it until it changes to "Read." Then three little dots appear, which tells me he's writing back.

  Malcolm: LOL. I think that shirt is super sexy.

  Me: I don't think it's the shirt that's sexy.

  Malcolm: Speaking of sexy, I saw you on the livestream at the debate last night. Congratulations.

  Me: Thanks. I mean for alluding to my sexiness. The debate, that was rough.

  Malcolm: I see Peter's putting his old worries about confirmation bias to use, in a creepy way.

  I think Malcolm is alluding to the same realization I had, but I want to hear him say it for himself.

  Me: What do you mean?

  Malcolm: Did he ever give you his speech about how confirmation bias is the most powerful factor in the human brain?

  Me: I don't think I heard that one specifically.

  Malcolm: His phrase for it was, "The world is like I already think it is, and if it isn't then it's wrong." Says that's how most people make most decisions about essentially everything.

  Me: Huh. Don't remember that phrase, but the thinking does sound like him.

  Malcolm: He was talking about echo chambers and the dark side of the net since before I started working for him. Everyone in the Valley was. But Peter was always referencing some article on how politics was ruined by the fact that we all listen to people who already agree with us and this has been worsened by our online communities. I figured he wanted to fund Ameritocracy, at least in part, to combat that. Get new voices out there.

  Me: And now?

  Malcolm: Now I think maybe he saw an opportunity, and did what he always does when he sees an opportunity.

  Me: I agree with all that. Gah! We gotta change the subject. This sucks.

  Malcolm: I'm sorry.

  I'm about to ask him about how the tour is going when another message pops up.

  Malcolm: Abrupt subject change in 3...2...1: What the heck is going on with Dixon?

  Me: Ugh!

  Malcolm: Dude threw his body in front of a guy with a gun. Probably saved ten lives. Maybe fifty. And folks are going off on how they think he was too NICE about it?

  Me: The internet never forgets, and it also has a really short memory.

  Malcolm: True. Speaking of, I've got fifteen minutes of fame to take care of. I gotta go.

  Me: Okay, take care. I want to hear about what you're up to and all about the tour.

  Malcolm: More on that later.

  I glance through my window into the main office space where Steph, Benjamin, and a few other staff members stare up at a wall-mounted TV. I can't see what they're watching, and I'm about to go back to fretting over the Dixon stories when Steph waves me over.

  When I reach the crowd, I see that they've been watching an interview with Peter.

  "I thought you'd want to see this," Steph says. "It's a BS softball interview on CNBC. They love him there and won't ask him anything tough. The last five minutes were basically him reciting his awesome résumé."

  The interviewer is a guy about Peter's age, who seems nervous and starstruck. "Moving on, I'd like to ask you about your Ameritocracy campaign. I, for one, and I know many of my colleagues share this view, would love to see a successful businessman in the White House. As of this morning, you're leading the competition. So, let me ask you this: which of your competitors do you most fear?"

  Peter smiles knowingly. "Interesting question. This is a campaign about America, about ideas, about moving America forward, and that's what I'm focusing on."

  "C'mon, Peter, you're known as a tough businessman. Social media is going nuts for your debate performance. You're in the home stretch. Surely you've sized up your competitors."

  Peter thinks for a minute. "Justine Hall."

  I'm honestly surprised. I expected Peter to find a way out of the question.

  "The mayor of Denver," he continues. "She's got executive experience and she's smart on tech and green jobs. That's something she and I agree on. The events she's doing next week in Ohio and Michigan look great. I'm still going to beat her, but I definitely respect her."

  It's odd that Peter would go out of his way to praise Hall. Likely it's because he doesn't see her as a real threat. Her numbers have been steady, but her unwillingness to set aside her day job and campaign full time has capped her popularity. He can safely raise her profile without endangering his own.

  Steph nudges me. "What's Hall doing in Ohio and Michigan? 'Event' can mean a lot of things."

  "I honestly don't recall. I can't track everything the candidates announce."

  "I'll check it out. You know I love her stuff."

  The rest of the office is glued to the interview, but I've zoned out Peter's answers. "I can't listen to any more of this. Tell me if anything important happens."

  I swivel on my heels and head back to my office, shutting the door behind me. I close the blinds so I'm not tempted to watch my staff watching Peter's interview. I turn off the lights.

 
Sitting in my darkened office, listening to Post-it fight a piece of crumpled paper, I wonder about Peter's strategy. I recall an episode of The West Wing in which a Republican strategist boosts the public persona of White House staffer Sam Seaborn, played by Rob Lowe. In the episode, Seaborn wonders why a strategist for the opposing party would want to bolster him. As it turned out, it was because the strategist knew about a scandal Seaborn was involved in. He wanted to "bring him out front" so he could drop the scandal in the press and embarrass the administration.

  Maybe this is what Peter wants to do with Hall. And this makes me wonder whether he's somehow behind the stories about Dixon, or even the Orin Gottlieb rumors. Maybe he got Wendy Kahananui the TV show so she'd quit Ameritocracy.

  Eliminate the competition.

  My mind swims between conspiracies, but I slam the mental brakes before allowing myself to consider whether Peter had anything to do with Cecilia Mason's dead grandchild.

  I no longer trust my guesses about Peter.

  I was enamored with him from the moment I met him. Before that, actually. I see this clearly now. I was never one to fall in love with celebrities, but I always found Peter interesting. Plus, he's gorgeous. I can't deny that even now.

  But I don't know him. I never knew him.

  I think of a hundred little interactions we had. A strange look across the kitchen counter. A phone call in which he was a little too charming, leaving me feeling like a late-night host with an audience he needed to please. I return to the argument I overheard between Peter and Malcolm on the night of Peter's birthday party. Peter sounded both imploring and angry. I found out later it was because Malcolm knew Peter was cheating on me.

  And the sex. I remember the first time we made love, the night Saturday Night Live first parodied me. I recall thinking that he was somehow too attentive, but I didn't make much of it.

  Maybe it was because he's not actually attracted to women, so he had to fake it. This is pure speculation, though. Maybe he needs to be seen as perfect by everyone he meets. Maybe he wanted to be sure to please me so I'd stick around long enough for him to get the inside scoop about Ameritocracy.