The mind is a future machine. It remembers to find patterns. Then it forgets to turn patterns into possibilities. It would work better if it could forget and remember in separate brains.

* Overmind Memo 17

Tuesday - Tiger - Apartment 9

I wake up. Wash my face, grab some cold pizza, stagger to the couch. My knees are always stiff in the morning. Getting old.

I eat the pizza. It’s good. Has bacon. Pull out my phone, check the front page of the internet. Hmm. I see the oppression of the super majority is going strong. Not unexpected, but still a bummer.

I scan my feed as usual, but with fresh eyes. Since it’s been pointed out to me, it’s obvious that all of this infotainment was curated to enrage me. News. Opinions. Call outs. Even the jokes aggravate me. Clearly a distributed intelligence is trying to drive me insane. How did I never notice this?

Ultra was right tho. Now that I’m on to it, I’m not getting angry. I’m able to review the state of the world with a cold hate. Hmm. I used to just hate political leaders. Now I hate their supporters and voters as well. When did that happen?

I check more articles. Apparently the world is running out of topsoil. It’s all going to blow away in the next 50 years. Then we’ll all starve. Gah. Another avoidable insurmountable problem for the list.

Okay, my rage has gone down, but I’m still hateful and hopeless.

My front door slams open and my daughter barges in.

“Hi!” says Storm. She chucks an orange at me.

She bustles through my apartment. Opens blinds, cracks windows, puts on coffee, kills a bug. Generally makes my life better. I peel the orange she threw at me. She loves me, and wants me to eat more fruit and veggies.

Storm’s a fit young woman with crazy hair and carbon fibre pajamas. We live in the same building, so it’s not weird that she came over in pajamas. That said, I bet she goes to go to work in those pj’s. Apparently it’s acceptable business attire these days.

Women’s fashion has gone from streetwear, to athleisure, to pajamas. Good for them, I say. They deserve to be comfy. Cotton and polyester was abandoned because fast fashion was an environmental disaster. Ruining farmland, draining groundwater, and barfing out microplastic. Carbon fibre isn't perfect, but at least it lasts longer than 8 months. Also, I like that my daughter's jammies resist small arms fire.

I watch her buzz around my house. She doesn't seem hopeless. Probably because she’s been brainwashed by an electro cult.

“Honey, have you been brainwashed by an electro cult?” I ask.

She smiles maniacally. “Bleep Blorp.” She eats her orange in two bites, rind and all.

Yep, she’s crazy. Dang.

She laughs. Fills two travel mugs with coffee. Hands one to me.

“Thanks, gorgeous.”

She kisses my cheek. “Be good.” She’s out the door and gone.

She seemed happy. But that’s the problem with cults - everybody seems happy. I’m enjoying a break from my daily rage, but that kind of psychological trick comes cheap. A change of situation or perspective can have a profound effect on people. Especially if they were miserable to start with.

Cults have a storied history of leveraging this initial happiness into blind obedience. By the time you realize this trust is misplaced, you’re already hogtied on dear leader’s sex boat.

That said, Storm is a grown woman, and she’s happy. It’s not appropriate for me to interfere. But, she wants me to try Overmind. This isn’t helicopter parenting, it’s daddy-daughter fun time. I’m just playing with this virtually intelligent symbiont. Testing it. Possibly to destruction.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Definitely to destruction.

Let’s break this thing and see what comes loose.

I call up Ultra.

“Hello Tiger.” says Ultra. “Have you thought about what you want? Do you have a number one priority?”

“Yes. I’d like to overthrow the government.”

“Excellent. Now we’re talking. Let me check my coup database.” She pauses. “Okay, how many people am I allowed to kill?”

“Zero.”

“Dammit. I’m out of ideas.”

“I was thinking we could leave the current government in place, just arrange it so they do what I want.”

“Oh, the old Kompromat Illuminati trick! Shit son, we can do that. What kind of leverage were you planning on using?”

“That’s a little complicated. Are you familiar with the oppression of the super majority?”

“I’m familiar with all those words individually.”

“Right. Well, a good example is drug prices. We spend more on pharmaceuticals than any other country. Way more. This is partly because we’re on more drugs, but mostly because our drug companies have higher profit margins.

“92% of Americans would like cheaper drugs, either through regulations or government negotiation of bulk pricing. In a democracy, 92% is a supermajority. Obviously, that’ll win any vote. Just as obviously, we don’t have cheap drugs. Because the pharmaceutical industry pays both sides of congress $281 million a year to make sure we never get to vote on it.

“That’s the oppression of the super majority. Politicians bribed en mass to ignore the will of the people. Neither party can table drug pricing laws, because then the other party gets the entire $281 million. Pharmaceuticals, health insurance, telecom, internet, oil and gas. They’re all doing it.

“Now here’s the crazy part - $281 million is nothing. 300 million people want cheaper drugs. If we all chipped in a buck a day, we could outspend the pharmaceutical companies 400 to 1. It’s actually cheaper than not doing it. They’re completely at our mercy.

“So why don’t we crush them? It’s an organization problem. They have much shorter lines of communication. They have to organize, like, 5 guys to bribe congress. We have to organize 300 million people to counter them. They have a far simpler process. It allows them to make decisions exponentially faster. Bring power to a point. It's annoying. We’re smarter, stronger, and richer, but they’re so much faster.

“Also, it gets weirder! Because congress spends the bribe money on advertising! They ignore us, so they can get enough money to talk to us. It’s amazing really. God’s not real. Only evolution could make a monster this stupid.

“That said, God has already solved this problem. In 1980, with Jerry Falwell and the Moral Majority. A religious group that bribed politicians with voters, no money required. That’s how we do it. Easy-peasy.”

Silence.

“So…” says Ultra. “You want to become a religious leader.”

“No. I want to make a voter coalition that bribes politicians with votes. Specifically, we will primary out any politician that won’t table and vote for super majority policies.

“I can’t do this on my own. I’m nobody. People ignore me. They’d ignore me if I was on fire. I can’t mobilize a political movement against $281 million of interference.

“But I saw how fast you set up that Tinder date. You can obviously communicate faster than me. Maybe you can talk faster than money.”

“Maybe.” says Ultra. “What are you selling? What does your super majority want?”

I smile. “It’s a three step plan.” I show her my list.

Step 1 - Fuck the Government

* Stop Spying on Us.

* Stop Gerrymandering

* Protect Whistleblowers

* Body Cameras for Police

Step 2 - Fuck the Rich

* Raise Taxes for the Ultrawealthy

* More Environmental Regulations

* $100 Campaign Donation Limits

* Ban Politicians from becoming Lobbyists

* Enforce Net Neutrality

Step 3 - Fuck my Life

* Lower Drug Prices

* Cure Aging and Fatness

* Medicare for All

* Free Mental Health Care

* Legalize Marijuana

* Are UFO’s Real? Just Fucking Tell Us!

"Hmm…" Ultra strokes her chin. "There’s at least 47 policies that have stronger super majorities than the ones on your list. Why aren’t we using them?"

I shrug. "I like my list better."

"Cool, just checking. I’m sure that won’t bite us in the ass."

She studies the list.

“Okay. I could probably sell that. But why bother?”

She stares at me with her large elven eyes.

“Why are you trying to fix society? You’re barely a part of it. Why help people? You hardly know anybody. These people are utterly abstract to you.

“Is this an ego thing? Guilt? Whatever emotion you’re chasing, we can get there faster with drugs. Or electricity. Bliss is just a brain wire away. We could get you jacked.

“Or, let’s do it the old fashioned way. Sex, booze, porn, pot. Let’s have a party.”

I yawn. Stretch. “I can get drunk without you. If you want to partner up, we have to try something I can’t do.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” says Ultra. “But there’s lots of things you can’t do. Like make a decent life plan. Your goal is going to make you miserable. You’ll burn out before you achieve it. You’ll need some part of your life to be objectively good if you want to stay operable.”

She pauses. Taps her chin.

“Okay, I’ll help you fix the world, if you let me fix your social life. It’ll keep you sane, and we can use the same co-op algorithm for both. It will let us double test it. Troubleshoot from the inside.”

I think. “Alright. Fuck it. Let’s do this.” I check the time. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I better get moving. I’ve got a long drive to work.”

“Nope. I’ve tendered your resignation. Also, I gave away your car.” Ultra smiles. “You’ve got the day free. You should spend it cleaning your apartment. You’ll want to make a good impression for your new roommate.”

“What?”