Vivian Charlesworth: As Real as the Here
As Real as the Here is a VR film set within a parallel post 9-11 America. Using Deepfake technology and dialogue collaged from political speeches, As Real As The Here considers a new mechanism for governing that accounts for alternative facts and rapidly evolving beliefs. In this “Fortunocracy” beliefs are submitted by citizens to a nonpartisan organization called the “Lottery of Beliefs.” Whatever belief is picked by the system becomes the collective’s new reality and central rule of law. In As Real as the Here, the audience experiences one day of this political process. Yet on this day, the winning belief states that the lottery has been rigged.
39.8283° N, 98.5795° W
In the city and the surrounding farmland, the air was thick with the smell of the concentrated animal feeding operation. High above the facility’s waste structures, two AirCorp workers hurried to dismantle the slick white rotor blades of the city’s last wind turbine. Meanwhile on an adjacent hill, GroundCorp was busy raking leaves from between the gridded trees of the planted forest. From their positions, both Aircorp and some Groundcorp could see the twisting line of citizens snaking through the city to the People’s House. Both men and women were dressed in deep blue two-piece suits patterned with white stars. On their left lapels a tiny pin insignia marked their rank, while around their necks, red and white striped ties and scarves fit snugly. Each citizen held a large ticket marked on one side with an icon of an eye floating above a pyramid. Together, they waited quietly for their turn to submit an entry into the Lottery of Beliefs.
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In the depths of the city’s largest tower, in a gilded room inside another gilded room, the executives sat around an oversized glass table poring over the plans. “We’ve also got new planes, we’ve got new rockets, new missiles, new everything,” one executive began,“and they’re either here or coming in. We’ve now completed more promises than we’ve made.” A murmur of ascent buzzed around the table, but stopped short at a small tap on the door.
“Who is it?” the bossman growled.
“Sorry for the interruption sir,” OfficeCorp #344 whispered, “but we all thought you needed to see this entry.” OfficeCorp #344 threw the lottery ticket at the nearest executive, and quickly slipped out the door. The small piece of paper was passed to the head of the table into the bossman’s greedy outstretched hands. As he read the submission on the back of the ticket, a sticky smile stretched across his face and a contagious laugh rose in his throat.
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Finally, the last citizen was able to enter The People’s House. She took one last look at her entry, folded the paper, and slipped it into the Corp-Certified TamperSecure™ Submission Station. As she released the paper, she felt a rush of air and a tingle of hope, imagining the ticket flying into the bowels of the tower - into the Lottery of Beliefs. As she made her way home, on the red-striped light rail that had been built only last year, her eyes danced at the thought of living in a world where universal basic income was a core belief. “We could really use that,” she thought as the train turned past the odalisques and columns of the city, their gray marble veins sparkling from the reflected light of the skyscrapers looming above.
Entering her apartment complex, she picked up her packaged government certified celebration meal from the mailroom and headed to her unit. Once inside, she popped a cold can of MeatMaster’s Energy Blast! from the fridge and opened the parcel. Unsurprisingly, the contents included a microwavable dinner of Pesky Pete’s (Certified Real Pig) Party Pork, three more cans of MeatMaster’s Energy Blast! and a photograph of the president golfing on his aircraft carrier.
Trembling from a spike in adrenaline from the energy drink, she sat down on the couch and turned the TV to its only channel. The anchors at Fortune News were trading guesses on what the next belief would be, while a box in the upper right corner of the screen counted down the time to the lottery drawing.
As soon as the seconds clicked to zero, the electrical whine of the alert system reverberated across the city, bouncing off the boundary walls beyond the farms and hills. The noise echoed over and over in deep guttural screeches. In their homes, every citizen looked at their screen, while the AirCorp and GroundCorp workers paused and pulled out their portable Corp-Certified Watchmans.
★☆★
In the studio, AmandaCorp, the host of the Lottery of Beliefs, stood at attention. As the cameras flicked on, the lottery entries containing the proposed beliefs began swirling behind her in vast pneumatic tubes. And then it was time. AmandaCorp cleared her throat, and began her familiar speech. “Hello my sweet patriots, tonight is a very special night. It is the night we uphold the work and the word of our Fortunocracy. You’ve submitted and now you receive.” AmandaCorp raised her hands in evocation. “We the united republic for which we stand, one nation indivisible by truth or otherwise, do submit wholeheartedly to the belief that…”
AmandaCorp paused as a tube began to rise from the stage in front of her. It stopped and a ticket emerged from a slit in the top. She took it, smiled at the camera, and then began to read. “This is a rigged system,”she enunciated, “which works only for the rich and the powerful. It is not working for you.” The citizens shifted nervously on their couches as AmandaCorp continued a bit less confidently, “It is hard for anyone in this world today to make the case that this city, our great city which all of us love, is a just society, or anything resembling a just society today. There has been massive fraud here, with glitches all over the place. We believe, I repeat, that this is a rigged system.”
AmandaCorp replaced the ticket and looked past the camera at someone beyond. From off-screen the hand of a Corp worker passed her a can of Chef Dan’s Overstuffed Liver-Roni and Meatball Stew. She held it up, adjusted her face, and inhaled. “More meat, more flavor, more yum!” she recited, “It’s Corp approved, and if you eat it, so are you!” The camera held on her plastic smile, and then the broadcast faded to black.
★☆★
“I wonder what this belief means for us?” AirCorp #59 mumbled out loud as he pocketed his device and turned back to unscrewing the bolts of the wind turbine. AirCorp #32 took out her wrench,“Whatever happens,” she thought,“it will be tremendous.”