RoboNomics

Chapter 26

"Okay," begins the head of legal, Amit. "But how can you know this is true? How'd you even find out about it?" He is the first person I saw when I first came here. The one who told me to sit down. He used to work as an immigration lawyer, but now even legal interpretation has been outsourced to artificial intelligence. He is dressed like Bill in a stiff, striped button-up shirt.

"I'll worry about that. I can't tell you my sources for their protection. What you have to do is trust me."

Amit shakes his head. Chris, who is looking around the room at us, either doesn't see or chooses to ignore the gesture.

"First, communications. Anderson, is that you?"

"Yes," I say forcefully, thinking he doesn't recognize me. "Remember? You came to my school and ruined any chance I had of getting my teaching job back?"

"No, I mean communications. That's your section. You're in charge of it, right?"

"Oh. Yeah." My cheeks go hot.

"Okay, Anderson, I need you to send word out to all the unions you can reach, now. Tell them," he begins to pace behind his chair. "That making unions illegal is a crime. No, a human rights violation and that we need their support." I unfold my FlexScreen and begin to make notes, looping my finger in the air as if I am writing with an old pen. "What I'd like to do is raise a protest. Petitions are okay for a start, letters to politicians if this weren't so important. But I think we need to get the attention of the politicians and the press. A call to gather all the union members across the province at Queen's Park. We need a protest."

My head snaps up.

"Let them all see just how powerful and efficient," he says the last words mockingly, "humans can be. How we can make our own changes. After you've contacted the unions, contact the press too. Local, national, even international if you can swing it. I want everyone to know about this."

I stare at him. "But I don't think a protest would be effective..." The phrase pops out before I can stop it.

"Did you say something, Anderson?" Chris stops pacing. He turns to face me.

"Well, it's just that there's constantly protests at Queen's Park..." I begin. Everyone at the table is looking at me. "Never mind," I say weakly.

"No, please," he says with a sharp edge to his voice. "Tell us. What's bothering you, Anderson?"

I take a deep breath. This is not a room of eight year olds. "It's just...look, not a month goes by that I don't see some group on the steps, wagging flags and shouting slogans. There's even been some demonstrations from the teachers' unions lately. But it never seems to change anything. Why would politicians even care about it? Why should they?"

Chris' face slowly turns bright red. He doesn't say anything. His expression stays neutral. Everyone's head swivels to gauge his reaction.

"Andrea," he uses my first name as I would have, once, to scold a child in my classroom. "There are tens of thousands of union members. Maybe even millions. Don't you think a gathering of even a fraction of that at the Park would be a little more impressive than the groups of a couple dozen that usually show up?"

"Maybe Anderson...I mean, Andrea, has a point." It's Oz. He's sitting in a seat in the corner back of the room, away from the table. Shari and Joe sit on either side of him. Oz is the same height as Chris but he seems shorter. His salt and pepper hair sticks out from under a beige cap; his ginger skin is lined from working in the sun and wind. He looks like a farmer.

"There could be other ways of making our point," Oz continues. "Of getting people on our side and changing things."

"I don't know how that could happen without a protest," Chris snaps at his colleague. "Oz, come on. You know how important it is to the cause."

"If anything," I say, my voice stronger now. "I think a protest might make things worse. We have no labor to withhold anymore...it's not like the threats of strike are doing anything. What would a protest do if a strike has no power? We'd lose our credibility. We're workers who want our jobs back, not some kids from the university. I think the only way to really make change would be to work with the system."

"What do you mean?" asks Chris.

"We could lobby politicians for their votes," says Alexa before I have a chance to respond. "They're the ones who have to decide to pass this thing, they can make the change."

"You're missing the point," replies Chris. "You don't get it. It's one goddamn line. Why would they vote something down that is good overall? Good for the economy and all that shit."

"They can take it out, can't they? They can vote to take out that line?" I ask. I have only peripheral knowledge on how the political system works. I'd been taught political science in high school but it was one of those branches of knowledge that had largely died away. Like how to dissect a frog or analyse poetry. Things I no longer need to know.

"And if they could?" Chris inquires. "Why would they? What reason would they have to listen to us?"

Silence falls around the table. A thought comes to me but I don't want to say it aloud.

"What are we supposed to do?" He calls down the table. "What? Bribe them?"

"Well," starts Amit. Everyone looks at him. "It's not exactly above board. But it's also not entirely out of the picture. But I guess we're talking more about lobbying as in..."

"Yours is a different union than mine," I interrupt. I can't help myself. "The teachers' unions are powerful. We have money. We've swayed the vote on issues and even candidates before. Isn't that better than waving placards?"

"Better a peaceful protest than being as corrupt as the corporations who are the only ones benefiting from the robotic scourge!" His voice fills the room. He looks to me as if he is about to pound the table with his fist. "This is my group," he says as he smooths the length of his hair. His voice is calm and even. "Without me the rest of you wouldn't know what to do. You'd still be sitting in your houses, worrying about the future. I'm here to do something and we're going to do what I decide."

#

When the meeting ends, I walk back to my seat filled with disgust. Henri, Miriam and Elizabeth all stare at me. The other group leaders are still filing down the stairs. Amit and Alexa throw on their jackets and walk towards the elevator door.

"What happened in there?" Henri whispers to me. "All we could hear was yelling."

I shake my head. "I don't know if I'll come back. I'm so...this feels useless."

"Oh, come on," Henri says. "You have to give us something."

I look up at my friends gathered around our joint desk. Elizabeth is still looking at me, listening intently. Miriam pretends to go back to work but glances up at me several times. I sigh and rub my forehead.

"He said the province is trying to make unions illegal. He thinks that'll be it...that if they do then we lose and the machines win."

Henri blinks. Elizabeth sits up straighter in her chair. Miriam is gazing at me, her FlexScreen abandoned.

"So what are we going to do?" whispers Elizabeth as she leans across Henri.

"That's what all the shouting was about," I explain. "I don't know, it seems so ridiculous. All the fighting. I might leave it. Chris is just so stubborn. He's not willing to see anyone else's point of view."

But a couple of hours later, I look up and find Chris approaching me.

"Can I talk to you?" Chris asks.

I level him with my best withering teacher look. "I guess so." He turns and begins to walk away. I follow him to the kitchenette, a dimly lit L-shaped bank of counters under the Honest Ed's sign. He leans against the counter and fiddles with the tiny white coffee creamers in a wicker basket.

"Look," he avoids my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about the press conference. I didn't mean for you to lose your job."

My anger melts away.

"And I'm sorry that I shouted at you," he continues. "It's just been pretty stressful, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Everyone is stressed," I reply. "But, look, you have to see that everyone has a part to play here. And I don't think I'm the only one you have to apologize to."

"Yeah, of course."

I'm not sure what to say next. I start to twirl my blue-and-white polka dot skirt between my fingers as the silence stretches out. I try to think of something else to say.

"Okay, well I guess I'd better get on that." He starts to walk by me.

"Look, Chris, I know it wasn't your fault that I lost my job. It's just hard for me to believe I'll never teach again."

He walks back towards the kitchenette and leans on the counter next to me. Heat rises to my face without warning.

"I really am sorry about that. I know you loved your job. And that's good." He smiles with just one corner of his mouth and peers at me from beneath his heavy lids. "We need passionate people here."