Paper Beats Rock, and "Technology"

“This is a waste of the High Council’s time. The matter has already been decided. A last-minute appeal is not going to change anything.”

Carol Albrite, like the rest of the country, knew Ernest Faulkner’s Reputation. As Lord Chancellor of the High Council, he was a pragmatic man with two feet planted firmly in the future. There were rumors that his rise to Lord Chancellor was rooted in the war of 2040. He was born on the day the war ended and, as legend has it, was groomed to sit on the very seat his ass is currently warming. She would not be able to change his mind, but at least three chancellors had ruled in favor to hear her appeal. Could she sway two more? The problem for Albrite, like all those passionate about a cause, was why were there not more people concerned? “With all due respect, Lord Chancellor, I was granted this appeal by the High Council, and even though I know I will not be able to change your mind, there may be less stubborn and more open-minded individuals among this venerable group.”

The Lord Chancellor looked at Carol Albrite the way a person looks at the sole of their shoe and discovers they have stepped in deposits from the toothless end of a dog. “I would be very careful with your choice of words and the manner in which you address me.”

“My apologies, Lord Chancellor. Sometimes my emotions rule my tongue. My passion for this appeal has consumed me and I feel a grave injustice to the world we live in is mere minutes away.”

“Opinions will not sway this council, and I feel like that is why we are here.”

Albrite noticed a subtle lilt in Faulkner’s speech pattern that was different in person than she had heard on TV. There was something unsettling about it. She also did not like the purple, hooded robes the chancellors wore. Only glimmers of their facial expressions could be seen. For a council bent on steamrolling this country into the future, she felt like she was in a story about barbaric cult rituals from the past. “Opinions do matter, and the very notion that we are allowed to have them means we still live in a free society. That more than anything is what this appeal is about.”

The Lord Chancellor scoffed. “This appeal is about saving an archaic place that no longer has relevance in today’s society. Taxes in the year 2097 should never be allotted for attempting to breathe life into something that is already dead.”

“Is that not an opinion, Lord Chancellor?”

“No, that is a fact, Ms. Albrite, backed up by numbers. We live in a time where we let numbers dictate policy. Numbers are pure and never lie.”

“It has been my experience that numbers are pure but can be manipulated by people. The AI War of 2040 was a direct result of numbers being manipulated. Numeric coding responsible for artificial intelligence was manipulated and the result was humanity on the brink of extinction. We are lucky to be here. Our dependence on government after the AI War was rightfully modified, but our dependence on technology has not been. Why not? Our ancestors fought for the restrictions of certain technologies. This strikes directly at the heart of why we must save Paradise. It is the last of its kind anywhere in the world. Does that not count for something?”

 Chancellor Grace Bickenworth of the Northeastern District of the United States spoke. “The AI War was a harsh way to learn valuable lessons. Our grandparents were victims of a hypocritical government, divisive bureaucrats, corporate greed and the abolition of meritocracy. They were also responsible for it. We live in a time that holds people accountable for their actions and pity is not what our ancestors deserve, but blame. Are we supposed to feel sorry for Paradise? Do we keep it around for posterity’s sake? We have read your brief, Ms. Albrite. It has merit, but that merit is far outweighed by prudence. Prudence and not pity is how we advance and why this council has already ruled for the destruction of Paradise.”

“Then why was I granted this appeal?”

The Lord Chancellor said, “Exactly what I would like to know.”

Albrite scanned the nine members of the High Council as they sat in their robes on the nine-seat bench that looked more like a throne of an ancient king. They looked like large purple vultures perched on high, waiting for the right moment to swoop down and pick her bones clean. Albrite steadied herself and knew fear would not aid her in her quest to save Paradise. She said, “I was granted this appeal because not everyone sitting on this esteemed council agrees with destroying Paradise. At least three of you ruled for this appeal and I can only hope it was more and you reconsider the finality of your decision.”

Bickenworth said, “Very well. State your case. Please do not bring up anything that was in the brief for redundancy’s sake.”

“Thank you, Chancellor Bickenworth. As we saw back in 2040 the advancement of technology had made us lazy, not only physically but mentally as well. With all this prudence you speak of, we are headed down that dangerous path again. We are still children who want our food cut for us, stories read to us, and excuse my vulgarity, or asses wiped for us. It will not be long before it’s 2039 all over again and we are on the verge of being enslaved by our technology. Paradise is our last bastion against this peril. How can we destroy a place that inspires the imagination, unlocks hidden mysteries, provides a bridge to our past, and allows us access to magical places and interesting people?”

Chancellor Michael Dard of the Mid-South District of the United States said, “Ms. Albrite, while all that may be true in some sense, we have current technology that allows for all that.”

“Technology, exactly what I have been saying. Dependency on technology instead of ourselves. Virtual reality is not reality, but someone else’s construct of what they think reality should be.”

Chancellor Dard said, “In some cases it can be better than reality. Virtual reality can be controlled, where reality is unpredictable and therefore beyond our control.”

“That is exactly my point. Life is about the choices we make and should never be about the choices made for us. Paradise is all about my choice and your choice. We can both visit Paradise and come away with two different experiences that are just right for both of us.”

Chancellor Dard said, “Choice is exactly why we are here today. People no longer choose to visit Paradise. Over the years we have come up with different ways to save Paradise, even sprucing it up with current technology, but eventually that technology became outdated, and Paradise lingers on the verge of being useless again. It’s time to realize that some antiques are just around to collect dust.”

“And the residents of Paradise? What about them?”

The Lord Chancellor spoke again. “Since we are talking about things that are outdated, I will use a term from when Paradise was in its heyday. The residents of Paradise are squares. They serve no purpose today and most people find them boring.”

Albrite barked, “Boring for those with limited imaginations. Boring for the easily amused dolts of society. Boring for the intellectually starved and overstimulated videogame players and virtual reality junkies that define today’s society. Those squares, as you put it, are bedtime companions, company for the lonely, traveling buddies, friends on the beach, and a wealth of information for those willing to hear their story.”

The Lord Chancellor’s smile and the whites of his eyes danced under his hood like dice on a craps table. “Your passion is commendable but misplaced. Your cause could be hungry children or the homeless. They could certainly use someone like you to champion their cause.”

Like the lilt in is voice, the little Albrite could see under the amethyst shroud unnerved her. “What about hungry minds and the soon to be homeless residents of Paradise?”

“They will meet the flaming arrow of the archer.”

“You would burn them?”

The smile was still on the Lord Chancellor’s face and Albrite found it inappropriate for his comments. “Up in flames as they say, and oh what a fire they will make.”

“Why not seek homes for them? Surely there are plenty of people willing to take them in.”

“More expense for the taxpayer. Why take the time and energy when a single arrow with a flame at the tip will take care of the problem.”

“That sounds more like desecration than a solution.”

“An opinion, Ms. Albrite, and you are welcome to it. Now we will get to the only opinion that matters. To my fellow council members, with a show of hands, who is in favor of destroying the Paradise Library in the North-Eastern District of the United States?”

Six hands raised and the large screen behind the High Council came on with a live feed of the Paradise Library. Books were piled in a mound ten feet high in the parking lot. As the wrecking ball swung on the brick building, the archer released his flaming arrow, and it found its mark in the center of the pile.

Carol Albrite shouted, “This appeal was a farce. How come the books were already piled up. When a man stands trial, do we tie the hangman’s noose in front of the accused before the verdict is rendered?”

There was no answer from the High Council as they stood and exited the bench. Albrite wept, knowing all her hard work, letter writing, organized protests and just plain begging were never really considered. She was placated just to have life’s cruel rug pulled out from under her. She watched the flames spread slowly at first, like a vile cancer consuming ink and paper. She refused to turn away like the cowardly chancellors. That’s when Albrite shivered despite watching the fire grow. Moments of clarity don’t just smack you in the face. They wash over you like a giant wave that takes you off your feet and holds you under. If you realize them for what they are, your reward is getting to your feet and breathing in a great big gulp of knowledge. If not, you drown in ignorance.

Albrite knew humans did not win the AI War of 2040. Today was the beginning of AI’s end game. They let us think we won because they knew it was not the right time for them to succeed. The war managed to topple capitalism and our government, but not the written word. Pen and paper were, and still are, AI’s greatest enemy. It’s something they have no control over and have no power to control the narrative of. It is why books are now an endangered species on earth.

Books on tape, books on video, and the ever-popular virtual reality books still flourished, but AI can control anything it can get its technological fingers on. Everyone knows The Cloud is AI’s brain, and just about everything we deem important heading into the new millennial is in The Cloud. In the 57 years since the war, how much has AI surreptitiously changed in the digital world that we don’t know about? Have Shakespeare’s words been altered? What of Faulkner’s magical prose bringing the old south to life? AI has no power to change books already in print and how people interpret them in their minds. This is the purity and power of ink and paper, and why AI has been methodically destroying it over the last half decade. Once AI has dispensed with the written word and reading becomes obsolete, what do we have? Albrite knew the answer and she learned it from a book about the history of her country. Slave owners feared literacy would prove a threat to the slave system, which relied on slaves’ dependence on masters. Many colonies instituted laws forbidding slaves to read and write and making it a crime for others to teach them. As an avid reader Albrite loved irony, but not today. Today it made her sick. It seemed that AI was capable of learning from human history, but humans could not.