The Watch in the Sand: Part 4

October 20, 2020

Geoff Bugess, a student at UC Berkeley, creates the Line Standard, or LSTD. This internet protocol is an incredibly fast and secure method of allowing individual devices to connect to a single wireless signal. LSTD is released as Open Source for use in the Line when it is completed.

March 29, 2021

The first Zettabyte server is designed and built by the Bundestag of Germany in Pottsdam. Holding more than one trillion gigabytes of data, several prominent politicians demand this server be given to the people, providing one free web-page to every citizen of Germany. Several European countries follow suit, building their own servers and providing Boards and online storage to their citizenry.

September 13, 2023

The Line is completed. The Internet Engineering Task Force accepts LSTD as the official protocol for the Line, requiring all networkable devices to be compatible. Free internet space is given to the citizens of the United States, in conjunction with their social security numbers. Protesters call it a Governmental takeover of the Internet. Little protest is given about the fact that signing up to receive Board space requires several pages of personal information.

November 26, 2023

Desktop computers have their worst month of sales since the new millennium. Analysts agree that with the incredible power and versatility of mobile devices, the era of personal desktop and laptop computing is over, replaced with smart phones, tablets, and other hand-held platforms.

A new survey of mobile device users reports that 53% of consumers use their mobile devices primarily for media consumption such as videos, music, or games, while 34% report socializing, and 8% report business reasons.

December 5, 2023

Forbes reports that companies are beginning to phase out their own websites, as the fully customizable ‘Boards’ allow access to a powerful search engine with billions of consumers, and unparallelled security.

January 4, 2024

The FDA officially approves IAN’s for medical prescription use in the United States.

11:24 am, January 5, 2024

“Will you get a load of this twat?” Julie swung her legs up onto the folding-chair next to hers, and sucked noisily on her candy-pop. She was staring over Donna’s head at the television on the wall above the couch. Donna twisted to see the images flashing across the screen. Julie had turned on the live-feed of the Senate Hearings on IANs.

“I don’t know why we need another three days of hearings,” Julie was griping, rolling the sucker around her mouth with a clattering sound as the hard sugar collided with her enamel. “It’s all the same old men saying ’they’re good for you, we promise.’”

Actually, Donna noted, the old man currently testifying was a woman, explaining some of the science of IANs. The Senator currently asking the questions was a stately old gentleman, putting Donna in mind of her old professor from college. He had been British, and had a slow droning voice that was far too soothing for early morning classes.

“Doctor Logan,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “You have written extensively about IANs, and in fairly glowing terms. In one of your recent articles, you mentioned the future of IANs, and you said ‘Soon, IANs will be synonymous with health. The future of this world is one where IANs fill our bodies and keep us healthy and safe.’ There’s a lot in that quote that gives me pause, and I’d like to start with this idea about IANs and health being the same thing. Can you elaborate on this, please?”

“Currently, IANs are fairly clumsy. It’s extremely technical, but IANs are nano-sized capsules that contain genetically coded instructions for different proteins that can be switched on with an external signal, namely specific frequencies of light. Given a bit more time, we can remove the dependence on light completely. Swallow an IAN capsule, and then the doctor can program what drug you swallowed from his smartphone. It’s extremely far away, but eventually, there will be no need for doctor’s offices, needles, or anything we now think of when we think of healthcare. With a billion IANs in your body, receiving and transmitting information, a doctor will be able to give you a complete physical through his smartphone, diagnose, and cure your diseases in less than half an hour without even needing to talk to you.”

Donna let out a low whistle. Julie slapped her palm on her sign, pressing hard, making sure the thick paper was stuck tight to the plywood.

“She’s been talking like this for five minutes, and she’s damn near calling these things the second coming,” Julie griped as she set aside the finished sign. She reached out and picked up another sign from the stack, flipping it over to spray it with adhesive. A few windows popped up on the side of the TV screen to notify viewers that IANs were currently being mentioned on three other channels. Donna set her notebook down, and stood up — walking around the table to stand next to Julie to get a better view. The doctor was shaking her head.

“Your question, I’m afraid,” she was saying, with a slight laugh in her voice, “is the wrong question to ask. IANs are already in the brain. They are smaller than most cells; they long ago breached the blood/brain barrier. It’s not ‘should we let them into our brains,’ the question is what can we do with them now that they are there. I hope they could manipulate our brains. We could finally develop a cure for Alzheimer’s, or map the human brain to nanometer precision. Besides, drugs already control the brain. Are you having trouble sleeping? You ask a doctor to give you a sedative. Anxiety? Trouble focusing? Depressive? Manic? We have a cure for countless abnormal behaviors of the brain. It is far too late to say our minds are our own.”

“Or our bodies,” snorted Julie and she banged her fist on the paper sign, sticking it to a blank plywood board. “So go ahead, let us put this new-and-improved chemical in your bodies, and then we can tell everyone how sorry we are in twenty years when we all get cancer.” Donna glanced down - the words ‘Keep our Blood Clean,’ in bright bold script stood out against the beige background. Next to the words, a scan-able code and address for their Board that Quincy had set it up. Donna took the sign and put it with the growing stack at the side of the room next to the old refrigerator.

It was a cozy space. Maine hadn’t gathered a sizable protest movement yet — most protests had been centered on the west coast and in the south, with a growing movement in New Hampshire. It was slowly filtering north, and Maine had been showing a modest growth in registrations recently, but they still didn’t have the money for more than a small five room office in the suburbs. The Break room was where they did all their preparations and planning. Donna had joined nine months ago, and because they were strapped for volunteers, was elected treasurer soon after. Now she was in the planning meetings, helping decide where they should protest, how to divide their resources, and what to try next.

Things had changed a lot in those nine months. The Anti-IAN movement’s founder, Doctor Ivan Gray, rose to prominence soon after IANs were introduced to the public. He was a charismatic and well-respected scientist with a book deal: a godsend to the uncertain public, faced with a new and frightening technology. Now, mostly due to — as Quincy put it — the courageous efforts of people like Donna and Julie, these fears and uncertainties were gaining traction in the public discourse. More and more people were wondering exactly how safe these machines were.

“And what’s to stop them from turning the IANs to poison, huh?” Julie was ranting. “Or a sedative if you’re too uppity? How about hormones to sterilize you if they’re worried about population growth?” Donna had heard it before — a hundred times. She knew people like Julie were important — they were the lifeblood of the movement — but all the same, the intensity of her views, even when preaching to the choir, could become tiresome. Donna picked up her notebook, returning to her slogan session.

“You’re still fighting the old fight. The FDA gave the go-ahead for prescription IANs.” Donna settled back into the couch. Julie scoffed. “Nothing’s changed,” she waved a hand. “Now we just can’t argue that the FDA hasn’t approved it. And really, what does that even mean? That just means they’re certified ’not poison.’ Hell, they approved Aspartame, didn’t they? Discrediting them won’t be hard.”

“There are those rumors that IANs are actually cancer cells, we can focus on that,” Donna suggested, scratching out another failed slogan.

Julie paused, tapping her fingers on her unfinished sign. “Not bad,” she mused, scratching behind her ear. “What good is an FDA that approves cancer-drugs? I think we could go somewhere with that.”

Donna suppressed a smile, reminding herself that Julie was not good with descriptors.

“I think you mean drugs made from cancer, not cancer-drugs. Cancer-drugs would be drugs that cure cancer. That would be a good FDA.” Julie rolled her head in exasperation.

“God, you’re the word-smith, you make it sound good. Oh shit.” Julie dropped the can of spray-on adhesive on the table, staring at the glistening paper. “I sprayed the wrong side…”

Donna’s pencil aimlessly drew a long squiggly line down the side of her page, as Julie picked up her ruined sign, and looked around the room. After a moment’s pause, she walked over to the dirty window, and stuck the sign on the top pane, facing out. She rubbed it and gave it a good pat, causing the glass to clatter against the wooden frame. On TV, the doctor was still talking.

“I hate to keep repeating myself about this, but research has shown long before IANs that the brain is far less under our control than we would like to believe. I think it is somewhat naive to think the brain is some hallowed temple of the body, guided by anything other than glands and chemicals. I think introducing IANs into our brains will give mankind a marvelous opportunity. We finally have at our fingertips the ability to take the controls of our own minds. We don’t need to be co-pilots to our bodies any more; slaves to hormones and chemical imbalances.”

“We need Don Page,” Julie sighed, as Donna wrote ‘The bad isn’t going to get better.’ She played around with a few different words before scratching it out again. ‘Cancer’s not the cure’ remained. So did ‘You can’t patent health.’ “If we’re going to get anywhere, we need a politician. Have you heard from Quincy yet?”

Donna shook her head, tossing her notebook aside.

“We don’t need a politician, we need members.” she muttered, closing her eyes. “We need a grass roots movement that can change the public’s mind. Once we have that, then we can get some change.” They had played out this argument into a well worn rut already. Normally she would be eager to stoke the coals again, going through the motions to pass the time, and possibly unearth some unexpected insight to drive them forward. As it was, she was getting frustrated with her brainstorming session, and couldn’t muster any of her usual fire. Julie, however, seemed to be in the mood.

“But if we get a leader into office, than they can lead the public and change minds that way.” Julie said, grabbing a new sign. “Besides, there are a bunch of politicians who are speaking out against IANs already. It won’t be hard to get one to sign on as a member.”

“If we try to play the system, we’re playing by their rules,” Donna returned, right on cue. “And they’re better at it than we are. Besides, the politicians who love the status quo have more money and connections. We won’t stand a chance unless we have public support.”

“And we won’t get that without a public megaphone to shout from! Knocking on doors is fine for a township, but we’re talking about a national movement. We just don’t have the media clout yet to get our message out there.”

“Oh dear god, this again?” came a voice. Donna glanced to the door, where Quincy had just walked in. He tossed his bag onto the counter and pulled open the fridge for a soft drink.

“Any news?” Julie said, a split second before Donna could speak. Quincy took a swig from his drink, and nodded contemplatively. “What?” Julie asked, leaking excitement. Donna bit her lower lip as Quincy spread his arms magnificently.

“I just got back from a little chat with Don Page’s secretary,” he said, grinning again. “Now that he’s finished with the campaign, he’s willing to have a meeting.”

Julie squealed with delight over her sucker, clapping her hands and jumping into Quincy’s arms, giving him a huge hug. A bit longer than necessary, Donna noticed. Don Page was a local businessman who had just finished a successful run for congress. During the campaign, it had been Quincy’s mission to turn him into the first Anti-IAN Candidate. Don was a sympathizer, and had donated to the cause — with him in the spotlight, they would have their million dollar megaphone. Quincy sat back down, and stretched his arms out like a magician.

“Not too shabby, I feel,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “We’ll get a major PR boost from him, and M&Ms will pour into our coffers.”

Donna sat down next to him. M&M’s had been Quincy’s watchword lately: Money and Members. She gently coughed. “Quincy, he hasn’t agreed to anything yet. I think we’re starting to lose our focus. We need to be doing groundwork, not hunting for congressmen. We can get M&Ms without buying into a political party.”

“This will make the groundwork easier, Donna,” Quincy smiled beatifically. “Don’t worry, we’ll still be holding protests and chanting slogans, we’ll just have a keynote speaker now.”

Donna shifted uncomfortably while Julie and Quincy chattered excitedly back and forth about their plans as they left the room. Donna would have to speak with Quincy later — she wasn’t concerned about protests and chanting, she was concerned about knocking on doors and shaking hands on the street. And as for Don Page…

There were a lot of congresspeople who spoke out against IANs. If Don Page became a spokesperson for the movement, he would become the movement. Don Page would be the Anti-IAN Congressman, and no matter how excited Julie and Quincy were, Don Page was a politician. He had to worry about money and party members and public face. Donna was positive if they went through with this, if Don Page became the face of the Anti-IAN agenda, he would get a lot of votes from the movement — votes that would keep him in power for several terms — and still compromise with the establishment politicians in the end. Then the movement would be nothing more than a wedge issue. Lines would be drawn between the parties, and nothing would ever change.

But if they could reach the public, if they talked to people in coffee shops and department stores and convinced everyone one at a time, then all of the politicians would follow. Real change had to happen first around the dinner table. Once change took root in the home, and once everyone knew what a danger IANs were, they would vote accordingly, and then they couldn’t be co-opted by the establishment politicians or the professional protesters. Donna stared at her notebook full of slogans, while the TV Doctor continued to speak.

“Well, yes. Humanity has always sought to increase the efficiency and efficacy of healthcare. If we try to stop or reverse the advances we’ve managed since the invention of the IAN, we will be fighting a tide that began long before we were born. We cannot stop the IAN. It’s what we’ve been striving for since medicine was invented. If IAN research is given free reign, we could make them into splints, or help boost muscle performance. We could turn every human into a walking hospital. Realistically, that’s still five or ten years out, of course, but the less expensive and more intelligent these IANs get, the closer we are to a permanent revolution of perfect health for the entire world.”