The Watch in the Sand: Part 8

April 14, 2027

An impassioned speech given to the North Carolina State Legislature goes viral on the Boards. Anti-IAN groups see a massive increase in donations and memberships. The Naturalist Movement takes the forefront of this surge, becoming the defacto spokes-party for anti-IAN sentiment, demanding that all copyrights and private information regarding IANs be released into the public domain.

April 21, 2027

The first documented use of Nanocule as a proper noun for IANs is published in a popular blog. ‘Nanocule’ begins to become the public name for IANs, joining Xerox, Kleenex, and Google as brand names that have become a noun or verb.

May 3, 2027

What becomes known as ‘The Asian Revolution’ begins. Massive riots protesting government censorship of Social Media begin in China, Russia, and Korea.

4:20 pm, May 26, 2027

“What the fuck was that!?”

Senator Harold Jacobson turned as the door from the Senate floor slammed behind him. Jennifer Fagan was storming down the hall, strands drifting behind her normally tightly done hair. Her pert mouth was locked firm in a grimace that would have made Jacobson’s blood congeal if he hadn’t had to deal with angry lobbyists on a daily basis.

“That, Mrs. Fagan,” Jacobson nodded to his aide, who headed the opposite direction down the hall, “was politics.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. We had a deal!” Fagan drew up to Jacobson, and as experienced as he was, he had to stop himself from crossing his arms to protect himself.

“And I’m afraid our deal is invalid.” Jacobson shrugged. “I sympathize, I really do, but the lots were cast long before I walked through those doors. We’ve been beaten, Mrs. Fagan. Soundly. Now what we need to do is-”

“Oh, there is no we,” Fagan spat, her eyes narrowing. “We stopped being we when you stood on that floor and put a hold on your own bill! How can any drug company compete fairly with Nanocules? They have to spend three times as much to manufacture one drug when Nanocules can make them all in one go! It’s a monopoly that will drive every other health company out of business. That’s thousands of jobs lost today, Senator, because of your hold, and you can bet we will make sure every pharmacist and distributor and practitioner in your state will remember that come election season!”

“And in the meantime,” Jacobson shot back, “Every mother, father, Medicare patient, business owner, insurance provider, and taxpayer will see costs drop drastically. Not to mention several thousand jobs saved because Nanocule Inc. can keep its doors open. Now, if your lobby had seen fit to change the dialogue back when this whole thing was getting started, I might have been able to let that bill come to a vote and not be kicked out in the next primary for trying to bankrupt my constituency! The pharmacy lobby lost this round, Mrs. Fagan. It’s time to start planning for the next one!”

“There won’t be a next one, and you know it!” Fagan snarled. “Now Senator Brown can lock that bill in committee with amendments and objections until doomsday!”

“Then perhaps,” Jacobson shrugged, “you should rethink your strategy.”

There was a pause as Fagan and Jacobson locked eyes.

“Is this because we went to Degaussy first? Is that it?” Fagan leaned back, her arms crossed. “You weren’t our pilot Senator, so you dick us over on the floor?”

“Oh for the love of…” Jacobson spun on his heel and began to walk towards his next meeting.

“That’s what this is!” Fagan stomped after him, her high-heels clattering loudly on the tile floor. “Some pompous macho thing because we tried to get your compatriot before we got-”

“This has nothing to do with Degaussy!” Jacobson shot back. He grabbed a printed sheet of paper from his aide who had returned. “This is bungled politics, plain and simple. You committed the worst crime in politics: you thought everyone thinks the same way you do. You got three Senators and twenty Representatives to make a fuss, and congratulations! You owned a news cycle. Thousands of the poor disenfranchised doctors and pharmacists united behind you. You put one of the largest regulatory bills in history into the halls of Congress. You raised public awareness, confident that as soon as everyone was paying attention, they’d all fall in line. And once the public was aware, the public realized they didn’t want Nanocules to be so harshly regulated.”

“That’s bullshit!” Fagan pulled alongside Jacobson, ignoring his quickened pace. “Polls say thirty nine percent think Nanocules need more research before they’re willing to consider using them. Thirty five don’t trust the scientists who recommend them, fifty six prefer conventional drugs, sixty three have concerns about privacy, and twenty one will refuse to take Nanocules even if directly prescribed by a doctor! The Public doesn’t trust these things!”

“I’ve seen those numbers,” Jacobson turned, facing Fagan again, his mouth sneering. “I’ve seen fifteen polls, seven studies, and six congressional reports with those numbers. I’ve also seen the twelve polls, ten studies, and nine reports that disagree. I hope you have more numbers for me.”

“Sixty three.” Fagan countered immediately. “Sixty three constitutional law professors and scholars who signed a joint letter saying the collection of medical data as required by IANs constitutes a massive invasion of our right to privacy as established in Kholer v. Zuckerburg.”

“I’m afraid I am not a constitutional scholar, Mrs. Fagan,” Jacobson pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I’m not very familiar with the details of the case. If I were to guess, however, I would say that private industry has always been able to violate privacy if they receive legal consent. If I am wrong, I have no doubt you will correct my error.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, you make it sound like that’s a real choice. Give us private information or you don’t get healthcare?” Fagan’s tone shifted as she reached out and gently grasped Jacobson by the elbow. “Harold, you’re a Senator. You’ve been in Congress for ten years. Are you saying, as someone who will someday have IANs in your blood that you are not concerned with the privacy implications?” Jacobson sighed, and shook his head.

“Jennifer, I am very careful to keep my personal opinions to myself — that’s why I’ve been able to stay in Congress for ten years — but I was concerned with privacy long before IANs were released to the public. Big Data has been paying very careful attention to us for a long time. They’ve been tracking my clicks for years. They know my favorite coffee, brand of shampoo, where I bank, shop for groceries, what I eat, and what sort of coupon deals I’m most likely to go for. It’s too little too late to be concerned about my doctor constantly knowing my heart-rate.”

“We’re not talking about shampoo, Harold, we’re talking about the health of our bodies. We’re talking about powerful, experimental, possibly dangerous drugs being given to someone without their knowledge or consent!”

“Now, Mrs. Fagan,” Jacobson carefully extracted himself from Mrs. Fagan’s grasp. “No one would be forced to take IANs, any more than they would be forced to go to the doctor. And frankly, if they were, I’m going to have a hard time convincing my constituents that it’s a bad thing. People today have always had choices with their own healthcare, and they don’t make good ones. Check-ups are missed, appointments are avoided, and simple reasonable professional advice is ignored.”

“You think your constituents will appreciate that attitude?”

“I’m willing to bet that if you were to ask any random person in the country, they would be more than willing to sacrifice a small amount of privacy — the same amount they sacrifice every time they fill out the clipboard in the doctors office — in exchange for never needing to bother with scheduling check-ups again, while still being healthy. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Fagan wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was locked on a man down the hallway, standing casually outside Jacobson’s office, talking on his phone, waring a tell-tale bright blue Dodgers cap. Jacobson cursed mentally. Couldn’t he wait inside? Fagan turned her gaze slowly to meet Jacobson’s.

“What is he doing here?”

“Who?” Jacobson’s poker face — honed through years of dealing with the press — rose to his defense. Fagan was not impressed.

“What is he offering you? A bridge?” She moved forward, uncomfortably close, blocking him from escaping. “A war chest for next year?”

“I suppose better healthcare isn’t enough?” Jacobson smirked.

“If I believed it for a second, it would be… Why in God’s name does the President oppose this? He practically campaigned on Nanocule regulation! And why does he care enough to send his Deputy Chief of Staff? He’s got two more years of a public mandate!”

“I assure you I don’t know why he’s here either,” Jacobson lied. Fagan was already shaking her head.

“Unbelievable,” she put her hand to her forehead, glancing at the Dodgers cap again. “The Deputy Chief of Staff is meeting with one of the authors of the recently defeated Nanocule bill, who felt compelled to place a Senatorial hold on his own legislation because… what? What excuse will you give the press? It didn’t go far enough? Didn’t give any extra money to Wyoming? Too watered down by Big Science?”

“I have a meeting to get to, Mrs. Fagan. I am still very sympathetic to your cause, and would love to meet with you later to discuss-”

“Discuss your uncontested election?” Fagan said, bluntly. Jacobson sighed. For all her clumsy handling of politics, there was no denying she had a very sharp mind. “You’re sinking your own bill so they won’t challenge your seat, and the President gets another election cycle of a wedge issue to campaign against. He’s not going to move a muscle on Nanocule regulation until his next term, is he? If at all! Why solve the problem when the problem gets your team elected? And you, well you’re not going to need a wedge issue at all, will you? Why win an election by the will of the voters when you can just have it handed to you?”

“Eighty two percent of the scientific and medical communities are excited about the future that Nanocules represent, Mrs. Fagan,” Jacobson neatly sidestepped, and slipped around her. “I will not stand in the way of progress.”

“Don’t think you won’t be challenged, Senator!” Fagan yelled after him. He waved goodbye without looking back.

June 2, 2027

In a compromise that maintains private control of Nanocule copyrights, six states pass laws crafted by the medical industry restricting and regulating the creation, marketing, and use of Nanocules. The Naturalist movement releases a manifesto, highlighting their goal of the restoration of common sense and self control in regards to research — to keep humanity from losing more than is gained through technology. Their adversaries call them regressive.