Switched On — Election Night, 2028🗳️

Liz motions at her throat—she wants me to wrap up my speech and sit down—but full of adrenaline, I feel the need to continue my oratory. The crowd is electric. I seize the moment!

“I have a dream,” I say loudly, my voice echoing across the room. “A dream where artificial intelligence strips away the biases and greed that have plagued our government for centuries.”

"Imagine a system that ensures every child has access to education, every family has a home, and every voice is heard. This is not a utopia—it’s a possibility, and it starts tonight.”

As I read my lines from the teleprompter, I think of how lucky I am. I must thank Liz. No man is an island. Joe Biden had Jill. Donald Trump had Susie Wiles. And me? As a leader of the New Rational Party, I have Liz Jackson, my campaign chief. She keeps me balanced. An anchor in my storm. The voice of reason when things get out of control.

As I continue speaking, Liz sits back and crosses her arm. I pull out with my laser pointer. She has been telling me not to use it during presentations, that it gets in my constituents’ eyes, but I have a lot of material to cover today. And when I get going, I really switch on she says.

“I have a dream! AI will create a fair government. I refuse to accept that we will forever allow ourselves to be led by two parties. A Donkey and an Elephant. I refuse to believe there is no space in this American zoo for more than two animals.”

The crowd at the Westfield roars with applause

My teachers said I had potential—valedictorian, third in my class at Harvard Law. They always said I was destined for greatness. And look where it’s brought me. I continue my speech to the rapt crowd.

“From this hallowed spot, I want to remind Americans that change has not always been gradual.

Today, change means Artificial Intelligence.

The whirlwinds of Silicon Valley have already reached every home in America.

We will embrace this change.

We will conduct ourselves with dignity.

We will find our destiny, together!”

As I step down from the stage, the room bursts into applause. My hands shake from nervous tension. After all, it’s my last speech before the election, and there’s a lot at stake.

Liz says to try to stay grounded with my environment no matter how high the stakes might feel at the moment. With this in mind, I move off-camera and grab a bite of chocolate sponge cake to decompress. Me and Liz have worked together successfully for a year and a half. In a way, it’s fortunate she doesn’t take politics as seriously as I do. She says, that until human nature changes, she isn’t prepared to think any politician is going to be any different from the previous.

On the main stage, I’m followed by Sue Gilman of the New Democratic Party. The Democrats have had a new lease on life after Trump’s Thanksgiving Day Meltdown.

Liz whispers in my ear, reassuring me my speech went well. I want to leave the hall, but she squeezes my elbow and says it’s better to stick around and pay respect to my rivals. If truth be told, I think Liz became my campaign manager mostly to get my attention.

I glance down at my notes.

The fundamental goal of governance is rectifying the poverty of the commons. This refers to the abuse and overuse of shared resources when individuals act in their own self-interest, leading to collective ruin for everyone. The overfishing of American waters, such as the Atlantic cod fisheries, has led to depleted fish stocks for everyone. Excessive water use in California can drain reservoirs and leave everyone high and dry. 

AI can allocate resources fairly, ensuring education thrives, public spaces are enriched, and no one is left behind. That’s my dream. 

There’s a pull at my shoulder, a hand tugging my attention away from my laptop.

“Why don’t you save your PowerPoint, close your laptop, and enjoy the party?” Liz stands next to me, looking down at me with a kind yet stern gaze.

“Ok, ok, Liz. Time to play politics," I concede and get off the sofa to mingle with the crowd. Mingling is a job I’m not as keen on as big ideas.

So why did I get into politics, you ask? 

When RFK Jr. gave up a 14-year heroin addiction, he devoted his newfound energy to becoming an environmental lawyer before later getting into conspiracy theories and running for political office. In a way, it’s fortunate. On Thanksgiving Day, he fed the Trump cabinet game meat, and they contracted Mad Moose Disease and resigned.

It was the genesis of the New Rational Party.

So when I gave up alcohol, and my sponsor told me I had a chance at a new start of a new life, I grabbed the bull by the horns, just like RFK Jr.

After pouring an ice tea at the refreshment table, I see Sue Gilman has made a batch of popcorn. We watch the nationwide polling results as they come in. The Lundites sit on the other side of the room from us. 

New Hampshire is the first state to provide results. Sadly, the New Rational Party is only scoring in the single digits.

“Take it easy, there’s still time,” Sue reassures me.

Bill, her new partner, shrugs and says, “It’s all just a game.”

I’s not just a game to me. Not at all.

While they chatter about the news as it flows in, I doze off. It’s been a long day. When I jerk awake, disoriented, the clock reads 9:30 p.m. My eyes snap to the screen, and there it is: Ronald Lund, 52.7% of the vote.

My chest tightens. The room feels suddenly colder. All that campaigning, the speeches—it wasn’t enough. The New Rational Party was never going to win. It was just a dream.

Ronald Lund. The name burns in my mind. He doesn’t lead; he manipulates. The Insider exposed it all: how he uses AI to crafts lies so precise, so personal, that they feel like truth. AI is his weapon, not a tool for progress. 

To the far-right, Lund promises immigrants will be expelled. 

To immigrants, Lund offers hope if they join his movement.

The LGTBQIA2S+77 community are told their transhuman rights will be extended.

Conservatives are promised mandatory after-school prayer.

Lund sells a version of reality everyone is desperate to believe. And they’re buying it. 

The worst of it is, the day after being elected, a politician doesn’t need to do a thing they’ve promised.

The New Rational Party wanted to use AI to help people, Ronald Lund used AI to manipulate people.

And guess who won?

On X, people are circulating interviews with people who claim that Ronald Lund has never shown up at his own events. No one has ever seen him. The videos of him are all Deepfakes.

He’s not human.

This isn’t legal. 

Article Two of the constitution says the President must be a US born citizen, over 35 years old, and been resident for 14 years in the United States.

Someone posts that whatever dark web entity ‘Ronald Lund’ is, it will surely use the concept of corporate personhood to justify its claim.

The Citizens United Case enabled this claim by ruling that corporations have the same First Amendment rights as individuals.

The members of the Supreme Court will be intimidated. 

AI has taken over.

It’s a nightmare. My head spins.

I notice Sue and Bill are on the other side of the room, talking to Liz.

Liz walks over and sits down next to me. “Let’s practice the Box Breathing Technique. Whoever is president, it doesn’t really affect us here in the Westfield Wellness Center, does it?”

“They are going to takeover!” I hiss through clenched teeth.

Liz nods to Max at the front desk. In what feels like seconds later, I feel the familiar sting. Her needle pierces my skin. Another shot of Haloperidol. Within moments, I feel a warmth spreading through my veins. My racing mind soon begins to slow down. I begin to feel the coarseness of the sofa fabric beneath my hands.

Acting as if I’m not there, Liz says to Sue, “I thought having mock election night debates would help him engage with our community.”

It’s as if I’m floating outside myself, watching my life unfold from a distance.

I realize something. Liz works for Ronald Lund. She’s been bought. The realization should sting. Instead, I feel I’m ok with it. Maybe I’m too tired to care. The drug has already done its work.

Liz leans in, her voice a soft murmur, her eyes still kind, still warm. “Many alcoholics replace one addiction with another,” she says gently. “Alcohol for ego. We’ve seen it before. People like you. Don’t worry—it’s all going to work out fine.”

Ego addiction? The words linger in my mind as the Haloperidol takes full effect. My vision blurs and the room fades. Somewhere far away, the TV drones on, announcing Ronald Lund’s victory as the 48th President of the United States. 

It should have been me.