Page 9 of The Thorne at My Side
“Impossible!” I finally spit out.
The election is three weeks away. The debate is next week. My news alert listserv gets updated every 15 minutes and there’s always something new about the senator. My position has always been that she shouldn’t care about news but Ben, the campaign manager sees things differently. I slump back down in my chair and toss my mangled pastry onto the table.
“I’m glad I was here to see that.” Jorge says before he turns and steps out of the room. “Oh,” he pops his head back in with a saccharine smile on his face, “remember the seminar starts at 2:00 and you’ll be in this room so clean up any crumbs, thanks.”
I turn to look at Sam who is watching me with observant eyes, trying, I’m sure, to figure out what is going through my mind. I’d tell her if I could. It is hard enough as it is to keep track of all the news mentions, to adapt to the rapidly shifting trends and opinions. One commencement speech can go viral and start a national conversation on child care and we not only have to know the ins and outs of the speech but we need to have a response ready to go because reporters are everywhere and the first thingthey do is ask a “relevant” question.
I would argue, and I’ve tried, that whatever conversation has spun up on social media isn’t always relevant. It might be timely, and some are truly important, but more often than not when an important figure like Senator Quinn comments on it, the issue gains credibility. She’s a person who canmakea discussion happen. And her silence can speak volumes.
Maybe this is a thing that we can be silent about.
My brain registers the lie but I’m going with it.
“It’s going to be fine,” I finally say to Sam after my mental pep rally. “We’re making a mountain out of a molehill that hasn’t even been built yet.” I am not sure who needs to hear this more; me or Sam. She is well aware of my frustration with writing reactionary content.
“Okay,” Sam stretches the word out into four syllables. “So the official campaign line is “it’s going to be fine?”
“We might need to wordsmith it a bit.” I smile and then busy myself cleaning up flakes of pastry that have fallen on the table, the floor, and on my top. Classic writer move, cleaning when there are mountains of other things to do.
"This is a nightmare come true. A night terror come true. This is literally the worst case scenario!” Sam spits back at me.
"Stop spiraling," I tell her, "this has nothing to do with us. It's a computer trying to do the job of intelligent people and it won't go anywhere. People want to hear from experts with insight."
"Well now I know you’ve lost it because that’s an outright lie. They're going to customize news for every user," Sam says as she scrolls further down the article.
"That's basically impossible so really they're just going to be feeding the same story to different people and the consumers are going to think they're getting something custom. It's a sham."
I can’t look at Sam because she’ll know immediately that I’m lying. She’ll be able to see on my face how worried I am about this.
First of all, the speed with which AI could produce articles is scary. And if a news source, like Thorne, is behind it they'll be publishing the content far and wide almost immediately.
There's no way for our team to keep up with everything that is said about the senator online. But I made it a point to identify key drivers of content and keep tabs on the general consensus. I have a dashboard that tracks certain hashtags and skims comments on our posts. The secret service does too so we don't have to worry about any of the threatening ones.
And trust me, as a single woman running for president, the senator receives plenty of them. The shit people (read: pencil dick men) think they can say from behind a screen is atrocious.
“Plus,” I add as I walk my scraps over to the trash can, desperate for a change of subject, “we have to get ready for this afternoon.”
Senator Quinn is co-hosting a Young People in D.C. day alongside her most public opposition, Senator Williams. In an attempt to show bipartisanship, she and Senator Williams will be giving PolySci majors and Senate interns tours of the Capitol Building and our offices. Then, they’re invited in for small workshop sessions with people on their teams. I'm hosting one with Sam on the art of speech writing in the modern age.
"Good morning!" Senator Quinn comes in and takes a seat at the table. I shoot eyes at Sam and she hurries to her seat as Jorge strides in to take notes. "I'm glad you're all here. I'm excited to bring people in through the office today and I wanted to talk with you for a moment before I get started."
"What's on your mind Senator?" I ask.
"I wanted to let you know that I'll be bringing in a new AI writing solution to support you. We’re closing in on this thing and I expect you to do everything you can to keep my momentum going!"
"Absolutely," I cheer with a smile on my face. I can hear the way my voice is climbing as the predicament I’m in starts racing through my mind. My heart rate sky rockets as I try to envision how this will actually work.
I can feel Sam looking at me, waiting for a tirade of some sort on how AI will be the end of the original thought. And while I've gone deep on the subject after a glass of wine, or two, now isn't the time.
"This could be really good for us, the best of both worlds!" I continue. I’m head speech writer. I am the person people rely on. I’m the one who is going to get this done and I set the tone for the team.
"I'm so glad to hear your support for this, Maggie.” Senator Quinn says, “there will be more information in the next few days but in the meantime, keep up the good work."
With that, the Senator stands and leaves the room with Jorge on her heels.
"So, are you really okay with this?" Sam asks wide eyed with concern.
"It’s not like she gave me a choice.” I roll my shoulders back as my foot starts to bounce under the table. “But it could be good. It's going to be good. We'll make sure it's good."
