MOSS MESSAGE
FUTURE IMPERFECT
After watching a STAR WARS marathon, I slipped on a stray Heinlein paperback, fell down, and found myself in the World of the Future. It was great! People were gliding by on moving sidewalks, dressed in gold jumpsuits. Suddenly I was grabbed by a big robot. A short hop in a pneumatic tube deposited us in Sector 27, the Department of Registry. A good- looking woman sat behind an oval desk, with buttons along one side. Her jumpsuit and sandals were silver, with some symbols on the sleeve.
“I am Specialist 4, named Andromeda Galaxia. Your Citizenship number?”
“Huh? You mean Social Security?”I looked around. “So when is this?”
“Why, it’s the 21st Century, of course. Two Thousand and Twelve.”
“No it isn’t” I leaned over and smiled warmly. “Can I call you Andy? What’s this Department stuff? Like the Federal government?”
“The Scientific World State!” she said. “This is the 21st Century, after all.”
“And the government makes all the decisions? Yikes!”
“Government? It’s just the best and smartest minds, all the experts. But most decisions are made by computer.” She saw my blank look. “The computer. The Main one in Central City.”
“Like this one?” I pulled out my phone and played her my God Bless America ringtone, plus a Dr. Seuss App. She was dumfounded.
“Where did you say you were from?” I shrugged. 2012. “Where I come from, we all have computers. And we’d never trust them to make decisions, except to maybe pick a lottery number. We have ‘em built into our coffee machines, our cars…”
“Cars?” she said. “Automobiles? That’s so…20th Century. We ride monorails and the Tube. Why would anyone want an auto?”
“To go where we want to go, instead of where the monorail goes—or the guys who build the monorail want us to go,” I said. “And what’s this government of experts’ thing?”
“The best and brightest minds,” she said. “Who else should run society?”
“Dumb, honest guys who know their limitations.” I said. “Who selects these best & brightest?”
“The Main Computer does” she said. “We program in all the data, and it gives us our plans, which our specialist class implements. Who else should make decisions?”
“People on the spot, who risk their own money and apply their own specialized knowledge. How many shoes do you need in Smallville? By the time your computer gets the data, the situation has changed. And what happens if the experts make a mistake?”
“They note the error,” said Andy, “And revise the Plan.”
“In the meantime you have a shortage of shoes or scarce resources wasted on a surplus of stuff no one wants. But a shoe seller in Smallville sees the situation and changes his product mix as quick as he can. Otherwise he loses his money! Same for government. If the smartest guy screws up, the people kick him out.” I smiled “Keeps everyone on their toes.”
“You say you come from a different 2012?” she walked around her desk. “Who makes decisions in your ‘future?’?”
“Everybody,” I said. “Individuals. We decided we’d rather have social programs than a Moonbase.” I shrugged. “We’ll have a Moonbase when costs come down and enough people want one.”
She shook her head. “This sounds like the past. Before the Nukewar. How did you defeat the Eastern Alliance and recover from WWIII?”
“We didn’t have a WWIII,” I said. “Too many people thought it was a bad idea. Instead our individuals outproduced the USSR, and Red China decided to make money instead.”
“Your ‘future’ sounds a lot like the past,” she said. “Old fashioned.”
“Talk about old fashioned!” I said. “Yours sounds like Yesterday’s Future. It doesn’t work. But we still have some reactionaries trying to make it happen.”
“Really,” she gasped. “Who are they? Followers of Zorg, the Evil Overlord?”
“Yes, indeed,” I said. “But we just call him the President.”
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