Promises
of a better, exhilarating life drew me away from my contented, peaceful existence
in the countryside and towards the irregular, pulsating heartbeat of
metropolitan Centrale Grand.
That’s why
I found myself, one day, pulling up to a lavish, postmodern castle, hidden away
in the wealth-ridden suburbs, driving a black sedan.
Only it
wasn’t my house and it wasn’t my car.
“Sorry I’m
late.” Ducking down, a tall man with swishy hair got into the back of the car
and shut the door behind him. “I’m Jerry Fitzgerald.”
“Jack
Lewis.” I turned and he clasped my hand with his spindly fingers. “Any stops
before the office?”
“Coffee.”
“Mountain
Café?” I asked as I started up the GPS, pulling away from the house.
“Sounds
good.” He nodded and buckled himself in. “Coffee is coffee.”
“True, but
their coffee’s some of the best.”
“Better
be.” He sat back in his seat and took out his phone. I glanced at him
occasionally, but his sharp blue eyes remained locked onto the glowing screen
throughout the drive.
As soon as
we reached the coffee shop, he got out of the vehicle. I quickly threw it into
park and got out, opening the doors to the café for him.
I followed
him inside and watched as he marched to the counter, where the barista took his
order. I stood away from the counter, keeping an eye on some of the people
staring at him.
Then in
walked a girl with baggy faded jeans, rolled up to her knees, and a hole-ridden
sweater. When she saw Jerry, her make-up splattered face lit up. She started to
shake a bit. I moved a bit closer to Jerry, as he leaned against the counter,
swiping at his phone.
Suddenly,
she sprang towards him. “You’re the guy who’s running for mayor! You know, I’m
so glad that we have someone running who cares about helping refugees and
migrants—”.
Despite a
warm smile, he looked over at me. “Oh yes, thank you. It’s very important.” He
stepped away from the girl and I gently stepped in-between them, saying that he
was very busy. With a confused look, she stepped back.
Jerry
continued to poke at his phone, only looking up when his order was called.
“Thanks.” He nodded at the girl and led us out of the café.
He turned
to me when we reached the car. “They can be rather irritating.” I got the door
for him and he dipped inside. Sipping his coffee and swiping at his phone, he
glanced up at me. “What?”
I shuffled
away from the door, studying him. “You don’t want to talk to your
constituents?”
At this
Jerry chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, the attention’s nice, but I don’t know the
first thing about ‘migrants or refugees’. That’s why I hired you to keep them away from me. Nicely,
of course.”
I frowned,
but nodded my head. Getting into the driver’s seat, I drove us towards the
downtown area. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused. I thought I was protecting you
from harm, not voters. Shouldn’t you want to talk to them?”
He looked
at me in the rear-view mirror, his smile faltering. “You know the reason why I
chose you as my bodyguard? You’re nonpartisan – or at least as nonpartisan as
they come. Unbiased – you didn’t grow up in this city.” With a sigh, he ran his
fingers through his hair and glanced out the window. “It’ll all make sense when
we get to my office, there I can show you my website: NewsBang!. Then perhaps you’ll understand.”
We entered
a sea of cars, taxis, and pedestrians. For an hour we crawled into the interior
of the city, where skyscrapers accumulated into a swamp of metal, glass, and
lights. The GPS led us to a parkade underneath the office building where he
worked.
“Thanks.”
Jerry stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him. Stretching, he
waited until I got out of the vehicle and locked it. “Follow me. Our offices
are on the fifty-fourth floor.”
With a nod
I followed his lead through the elevators and corridors that made up the
skyscraper.
I hadn’t
heard of NewsBang! before I got the
job. Jerry Fitzgerald was the co-founder of NewsBang!
but was now running for mayor of Centrale Grand. When I did some light research
on my old, slow computer back in my apartment, I saw that gaining access to the
website required a profile on Social Feed. I made one and was instantly flooded
by requests and advertisements. An article by NewsBang! quickly popped up, I pressed the link and stumbled down
the rabbit hole. It was a website filled with articles on every subject
imaginable. Pictures and snazzy designs had me overwhelmed and I clicked off,
my eyes and brain hurting.
“Welcome
to NewsBang!.” Jerry announced as we
stepped through two clear, glass doors and into a marsh of desks and people.
“It’s an open office, a place where we mine and refine labels. Each and every
political, religious, and social label has its own department. Simplified
labels, of course. That’s really the heart of this company –
oversimplification. No nuance
allowed.” He raised his head, looking over his empire of sweaty, haggard
writers.
I glanced
around, catching a few disinterested stares before he started down the hall.
“Is this where your campaign office is also?”
“NewsBang! is my campaign. I mean, on paper, my campaign office is located
elsewhere. But that’s not your concern. Besides, the real campaign is in the
hearts and minds of the voters. I’m essentially a clean slate on which the
voter paints what she thinks my campaign is about, which invariably is whatever
her own bias or prejudice prefers. Let me show you how it works.” He led me to
the only walled off area in the large room. “My office.” He opened the door and
I walked into the marvelously decorated chamber.
I blinked
a few times, my mouth slightly ajar. “It’s very nice.”
He
chuckled. “It’s top of the line.” He went over to his desk and offered me a
seat beside him. “Here, take a look.” A large console slid up and out of the
desk, its screen glowing with the homepage of NewsBang!.
I took a
seat and squinted. “That’s your site.”
“It used
to be. Technically, I don’t work here
anymore.” He swiped at the screen and a long list of articles appeared on it.
“Here is NewsBang! from an
administrative position. I can see every article ever posted on the site. You
see, we scour the internet for all the news stories on the web. We have
programs that continuously take content from personal blogs, major news
companies, political organizations, and business conglomerates from around the
world and we make them our own.”
I
hesitated. “You, uh, steal content?”
“Steal?
No! I mean we don’t technically steal.
We rejuvenate. We take those old, stale news stories and give them a spin.
Here, I’ll show you what I mean,” he found an article on the murder of a
politician that was featured on a respected news website and clicked on it. A
white page with text appeared on the screen. “Not even a single picture.
Boring, right? It’s just the facts. No one wants facts, Jack. Facts don’t get views.
And without views, we don’t get advertisers, and without advertisers, we don’t
get money.”
“Makes
sense.”
“I mean
the news media has always depended on ad revenue – that’s no secret. We’ve just
taken it a step farther.” He swiped the screen and returned to NewsBang!. “Now on our website that same
article becomes transformed. We then post that transformed and rejuvenated news
story onto everyone’s Social Feed.” He looked over at me.
“Transformed
into what?” I felt a bit uneasy, but also terribly curious.
“Good question. This is where things get
interesting. On NewsBang! we change
the original story into one that conforms to the reader’s bias. Every single
reader will get a different version of the article, depending on what they
currently believe. And how do we know that? We have access to their Social Feed
activity and the algorithms do the rest. Check it out – we have this story
written from the standpoint of feminists, socialists, capitalists,
spiritualists, nationalists, conspiracy-theorists, climate-change deniers,
centrists, globalists, geriatrics, racists, pediatricians, Christians, Muslims,
Hindus, Mormons, Atheists, Conservatives, Liberals, Libertarians, Criminals,
Hipsters, Communists, the far-right, the far-left, the far-north, the far-out,
bigots, anti-bigots, anti-anti-bigots and so on, so forth. Everyone is pandered
to.” He sat back in his seat, a subtle grin on his face.
“Impressive.”
I scratched my chin, unsure of what to make of it.
“And the
only reason we’re not drowning in lawsuits, is because each news story that we
take is spliced up into its individual sentences, with a few crucial words
added or subtracted. Then we give each new sentence of the article its own page
and lace it with advertisements and unrelated videos of animals being cute or
people falling over. This way, the original content is changed just enough to
avoid copyright infringement. Not that I’m worried. Everyone in this town’s
already a loyal reader of NewsBang!.”
I leaned
forward, my brow furrowed. “Still a bit dubious.”
“Obviously!
But that is the future, Jack. No one’s interested in reading some dry, boring
article or something they disagree with. They want their biases confirmed. They
want to feel comfortable. No one wants to deal with contrary opinions.”
“You don’t
have any qualms about this?”
“Not at
all.” Jerry laughed mirthlessly and got up, moving towards the door. “Everyone
already thinks they’re a genius and expert on what they read, we’re just here
to confirm that. The best part of this, of course, is my campaign. You see, I
control what people read. In this town, everyone, and I mean everyone, reads NewsBang! So who am I to them? Who is Jerry Fitzgerald? Whoever NewsBang! tells them that I am. Everyone
votes for me because everyone thinks that I agree with their bias. I’m whoever
they want me to be. Almost every article is written to implicitly promote me
and at the same time agree with the preference of the reader.”
He opened
the door and I started to walk out. Before I did, I frowned and asked, “How
come people don’t know this? How could NewsBang!
be saying different things without people realizing?”
“Indeed.
That’s the beauty of our metropolis, Jack. No one communicates with people on
the ‘other side’. Just imagine if you had to talk with someone who disagreed
with you? Absolutely dreadful.” With that subtle smile, he closed the door
behind me.
I wandered
the halls until lunchtime, when he went out with a group of guys and girls. I
walked with them to a nearby restaurant, over-crowded with people donning suits
and dresses. Jerry paid the waiter and he led us to a table in the back. As we
were weaving in and around tables, a man stood up. His face was almost as white
as his glistening, combed back hair. He pounded the table and I turned, ready
to apprehend him. However, the man didn’t move towards us. Instead, he waited
until Jerry and the others faced him.
“Jerry
Fitzgerald! Thanks for promising to keep those refugees out of our country and
keeping our citizens safe. You have my vote!” He sat back down, and Jerry gave
him a smile and wave before leaving.
When he
was out of sight, they all broke out into laughter. “That never gets old.” Jerry looked at me and his smile disappeared.
“It’s okay. A little praise now and again doesn’t hurt.” He took a seat,
gesturing me to sit down also.
I took a
breath and tried to smile despite my growing concern. The others started to
talk, but Jerry remained on his phone throughout the lunch.
At the end
of the day, I drove him home. I got back to my apartment, ruminating over what
I’d learned, my spirit slightly crushed.
The next
several months of working for Jerry only deepened my unease. Not that anyone
else seemed to care – they simply hunkered behind their consoles and hammered
out story after story.
Eventually
the allure of metropolitan life dissipated and my roiling inner conflict became
too much to bear.
One night,
I got on my computer. Without knowing who to contact, I opened up a writing
program and put together a document. I titled it: “NewsBang! Exposed.” I wrote throughout the night and then, after a
few nervous breaths, I posted it on my Social Feed.
During the
next several days, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I continued to pick up
Jerry and drive him to the office. He ordered, and I obeyed. I carried out my
duties and got him home safely at the end of each day. This went on for nearly
a week before I found a short email in my inbox. It simply read: “Fired.” There
were some forms attached, and a number to call.
Early the
next morning, I woke up to an even bigger shock.
My Social
Feed and inbox were littered with posts and messages from complete strangers
calling me ‘misogynistic, racist, sexist, a terrorist, a criminal, or even a
pedophile.’ None of them allowed a response.
I saw a
second email from NewsBang! which
contained an endless list of articles, most of which consisted of variants of
the headline: “Ex-Bodyguard at NewsBang!
Terrorist Sympathizer or White Nationalist?” I balked.
I found
the number that Jerry had put in the first email and called it.
“Jerry!” I
shouted into the phone after several rings.
“Sorry?”
The voice sounded tired and I realized it was only five in the morning. “Sorry,
who is this?”
Gathering
up my resolve, I cleared my throat and proceeded. “This is Jack. Your old bodyguard.”
“Oh right.
How are you, Jack?”
“I got
your emails.”
There was
a pause, and then a sigh. “Well I didn’t start it, Jack. You did. You wrote
that little ‘expose’. Clearly, you weren’t listening when I told you about NewsBang!. It’s all anyone reads. Your ‘story’
probably didn’t even get a single view. It’s a lesson, Jack. I hope you
remember it well.”
At this I
felt my face flush, and my hands began to shake. “I want you to remove those
articles.”
There was
a slight pause. “I won’t. Even if I could, I can’t. It’s in the hands of the
public now. But I wouldn’t worry too much, Jack. People get bored, and
something else will grab their attention. Give it several days. A week at most.
Soon enough you’ll just be a forgotten little uptick in views at NewsBang!.”
I
trembled, my hands growing slick with sweat. “You’re disgusting. What do you
even believe in? What do you even stand for?” My voice rose and I could hear
Jerry’s breathing slow, and then quicken again.
“You tell
me, Jack.”