Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (4 page)

Lyle Carberri hugged the lectern with the air
of a man comfortable before a microphone. His eyes hovered over the
empty seats and glared at members bunching up to exit the banquet
room. A scowl of disapproval replaced his normally jocular smile to
convey that Kye Naah was not the only one being shunned.

An aura of mystery surrounded the 40-year-old
guest speaker, about whom a battalion of investigative reporters
from the Wall Street Journal and Investors Daily News had failed to
uncover more than skeletal details of his private life. His family
had emigrated from Pusan, Korea when he was 14. He attended Johns
Hopkins University on a scholarship, then the graduate Computer
Science Department at the University of Maryland on a grant. Upon
earning a PhD, he launched
Politicstoday
with seed money provided by four Hopkins classmates, carving out a
significant online niche in politics before his competition
established a foothold. The original investors from Johns Hopkins,
more interested in making money than shifting the arena of American
politics into cyberspace, pressed Kye to take their company public.
In the end, he borrowed heavily to buy out their interests, then
mortgaged the website to loyal and enthusiastic employees
compensated with stock warrants that might never be issued and just
enough salary to pay grocery bills. When expenses exceeded income,
Politicstoday
stayed alive by seeking
federal bankruptcy protection. Kye's dedicated associates remained
fiercely loyal, operating their business more like a non-profit
commune than a for-profit corporation. No one accused him of
milking his company for personal gain, even his irate creditors. He
was known to live frugally and take almost no compensation. He
always traveled coach aboard commercial planes, lodged in cheap
motels and shied away from restaurants with white table
clothes.

Gabby soon learned that not all of Kye Naah's
enemies boycotted his presentation. A vanguard remained behind to
register their opposition by pounding coffee cups against the
tabletops. At first, the noise merged into an ambient growl from
the air conditioners, but eventually rose to a level demanding a
response from Lyle.

Off came the director's reading glasses to
brandish as a rapier. "All right, friends," he lifted his voice in
combat. "We know there are people who take a dim view of how
Politicstoday
steals our voters. I didn't
invite Kye Naah to talk about what cyberspace can do for the
independent candidates. He's already demonstrated his capability. I
invited him to tell us what the Internet can do for the Democratic
Party. Cyberspace presents a challenge I will not let this party
ignore. If we don't come to terms with online campaigning, the
Republicans will. Can we afford to ignore a technology destined to
bury us? I know you're worried how cyberspace will change the way
you currently do business. That's understandable. But the brute
fact is that without it, our candidates will be out on the street
with tin cups in their hands, begging for alms. The storm won't
blow over. Your program committee has considered who is the best
spokesman. Not a sycophant to tell us how wonderful we are, but a
master of information technology to kick us in the proverbial ass.
Therefore, I challenge you. If you know all the answers, then go
ahead and bang your cups. Or even better, leave now and protest in
the Chesapeake Room. But if you think there might be something to
learn, I suggest you wait until
after
Dr.
Naah has finished. I've asked him to answer questions at the end.
You'll get a chance to register your opinions then."

Like a guest on a late-night TV talk show,
Kye materialized from behind a curtain and bounded up the six steps
to the elevated platform. In contrast with those at the head table
in sport jackets and open shirts, he wore informal calico Levis and
a light yellow T-shirt. His frame appeared thinner than portrayed
in news pictures and his stature, taller. A broad face advertised
his Korean lineage. Slender lips opened naturally in a manner that
gave the appearance of a perpetual smile.

Lyle was still trying to control his
rebellious minions when Kye placed a hand on his shoulder to urge
him aside. He deposited a slender laptop on the lectern and, in a
fluid movement, flipped open its protective cover. A couple of
punches on the keyboard and the logo of
Politicstoday
, flashed onto an enormous screen behind
him, accompanied by digital music with an attention getting
beat.

"Okay, Ladies and Gentleman," he said after
testing the lapel mike for amplification through the loudspeakers.
"I don't mind heckling. Say whatever you want. Go ahead and bang
your cups. But remember, I've got control of the computer and he
who controls cyberspace, controls the argument."

That declaration produced scattered
expressions of amusement. Music rerouted through laptop speakers on
the tables drowned out the banging of cups.

"Do me a favor, please," he said. "I think I
have strong opposition over on the right. People who wish to
register their discontent, please sit in front of your laptops.
Then place your angry teacups before the camera of your laptop.
Once I have a cup to wrestle with, will the table monitor please
yell out the table number."

A voice on the right called "Table
seventy-four." A few seconds later, additional monitors identified
Tables 67 and 18. Kye immediately punched these numbers on his
keyboard and an image of a teacup from Table 74 appeared on the
giant screen behind him. The images of cups from Tables 67 and 18
showed as insets in the upper corners.

"That's good," Kye said. "Now, if my critics
wish, strike the cup with a spoon. Go ahead, please."

From Table 74, a knife made contact with the
cup. At first the sound was restricted to the table itself, but Kye
adjusted his laptop to reroute through the banquet room's loud
speakers.

"Now for a while I'll dedicate part of the
screen to my opposition and let the rest of you join in. Talk or
bang as you wish. For practice, I'm going to ask everybody at this
luncheon to pick up a spoon, strike a cup or plate and let's make a
real racket."

Two or three diners followed the
instructions. Eventually, others got into the spirit, including
Gabby. Before long, almost everybody was participating in the
clatter. Kye let this continue for a full minute, until the
exercise struck people as childish. The words TIME OUT NOW Kye
typed on his keyboard immediately transferred to the overhead
screen. A wagging cartoon finger scolded the last of those striking
their cups.

As sound dropped away, the
Politicstoday
logo reappeared.

The computers next carried Kye's voice. "You
ask how independent candidates in Alabama's third Congressional
District and Oregon's fifth won? I'm no political analyst, but I
will share what
Politicstoday
did to help.
Please keep in mind that while we're the largest website, we're not
alone. A dozen competitors would love to steal our business.
They're planning to offer services either better or cheaper than
ours. Here's a sample of what we have been able to achieve and
where we think we're going in the future."

On each laptop appeared a video of Reginald
Meredith, then Republican candidate from Alabama's third District.
He was walking the deserted runway of a pork barrel airport built
in his district by business partners of the incumbent Democratic
congresswoman. "Mr. Meredith used this very footage to show what
his opponent was doing with their tax dollars in Washington."

"A short clip like this is low budget and
produces results," Kye continued. "
Politicstoday
can pump video and voice to radio and
television stations, utilizing inexpensive off-peak times. This
means that when stations lose an advertiser, as they often do at
the last minute, or a spot is pulled by a customer for any number
of reasons, we can fill it instantly. We maintain a digital library
for each of our clients. We don't have to go on location to film a
sequence. We just identify a station and, in seconds, send the
segment anywhere, almost directly onto television screens. And we
go one step further by sharing our database with the media. By
means of our proprietary encryption, we let radio and TV stations
pull from our servers at
their
convenience, filling lost advertising spots. Of course, often we
get dog positions in the wee hours of the night. But more than
occasionally, our political spots show up at prime time with
maximum exposure and our candidates pay nearly nothing for
this."

Murmurs of satisfaction emanated in the
ballroom.

A new set of images filled sectors of the
overhead screens, one of a middle school classroom where pupils
were operating computers. "We've just launched our national
education program by providing material for civics teachers in 213
schools. By linking with
Politicstoday
,
students can, absolutely free of charge, study local candidates and
– if the candidates subscribe to
Politicstoday
– open direct, real time communication.
The site links to historical information about the issues at hand.
When learning about slavery, for example, we have Anthony Hopkins
reciting John Quincy Adam's famous speech before the Supreme Court
in 1834. On the judicial side, we have introduced links to major
court decisions and the famous cases from which these decisions
arose, such as Brown versus the Board of Education and Roe versus
Wade. Each link comes with video and background text. So far the
response from civics teachers has been fabulous. In election-crazy
Oregon, we were surprised that the kids went home and got their
parents hooked on our web site."

A dialogue appeared on Kye's screen between
seventh grade students in Alabama and the newly elected Reginald
Meredith about federal anti-discrimination laws. A link suddenly
left the two-way discussion and provided a list of historic
legislation dealing with school integration, then a video of
Senator Esterbrook barring the doors to Central High School in
Jackson, Mississippi.

"We're now experimenting with online town
meetings," Kye flipped to a pilot program in Maine. "Many of the
techniques used to integrate two-way interaction between citizen
and government are still untested. It's not inconceivable that we
will have interactive political meetings from people's homes, a
two-way modification of the old one-way Fireside Chats that
President Roosevelt used so effectively during the war years."

Kye Naah's self-assurance intrigued Gabby.
She glanced around the tables to observe his skill at holding
attention. For the time being, there was no further protest.

"Technology is a weapon of war," he stated in
a flat, authoritative voice. "It is no longer necessary for nations
to summon armies on the battlefield. Today, the rifleman is as much
a footnote of history as a knight in armor or the US Calvary
galloping across the plains to rescue a beleaguered wagon train.
Likewise, if politics is war, then the Democratic Party must fight
like a modern gladiator, not a twentieth Century pugilist. For the
party to win elections, it must be at the cutting edge of the
technological revolution, not trailing behind the Republicans who,
I can tell you from firsthand experience, are gearing up to capture
the Information Highway. I doubt there's a single person at this
lunch who wants to be left behind. But for every one with good
intentions, there were ten foot-draggers. You either lead with
technology or get buried by it."

Kye left his mike behind at the lectern and
sidestepped across the platform leaving an enlarged silhouette of
himself on the screen. A menacing teacup remained as backdrop. "The
ability to transfer text, voice, and video will make obsolete much
of your current campaigning. Who wants to be a fossil?"

That thought produced considerable mumbling.
A spoon struck a cup, but was obscured by Kye's shadow on the
screen.

"Will you organize blocks of votes the
old-fashioned way? Of course not. You can't afford to because
voting will soon be online and we expect to see a lot more people
casting their ballots electronically than visiting the traditional
polling booths."

Back at the lectern, he spoke again into the
mike. "And, just for fun, think about the cherished governing body
of this land – the United States Congress. It was originally
founded in 1777 in Philadelphia where representatives from distant
states could meet, parley and pass legislation. Like Parliament in
England, the idea was for representatives to discuss current issues
of law and policy. In 1777, our forefathers possessed only the
written and the spoken word. They argued their business in letters
and memos, but when it came to legislating laws, they faced each
other and debated eyeball to eyeball. So they convened a
congress
of representatives in
Philadelphia. And you all know how they ended up in Washington.

"The idea of political negotiation is
intrinsic to our system of government. We have a preconceived
notion of how government business should be conducted. We're
accustomed to sitting around a table to hash out differences. But
do we really have to be physically in front of each other in order
to carry on an intelligent debate? How necessary is it for elected
officials to sit in the august halls of the Capitol and
pontificate? When Congress convenes, less than one quarter of the
delegates are in attendance; speakers address empty seats. Couldn't
the exchange be accomplished more efficiently over the Internet?
Wouldn't our leaders be more effective if they stayed near their
constituents and conducted their business online? If their role is
to represent their communities, what better place? Lobbyists could
lobby through the Net. There's no reason why Congress couldn't vote
on the Net. I'm here this afternoon with one message. Despite all
you might have heard, the technology for real-time integration of
voice, video, and text is here. What isn't in this room is the will
to claim it!"