{"id":1814,"date":"2018-11-05T05:26:16","date_gmt":"2018-11-05T05:26:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/?p=1814"},"modified":"2018-11-05T16:30:52","modified_gmt":"2018-11-05T16:30:52","slug":"election-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/election-day\/","title":{"rendered":"“Election Day”"},"content":{"rendered":"

(This piece was written specifically to be read aloud at an event<\/a> happening on the evening of November 7th at the Bearded Lady Mystic Museum in Burbank. Because that’s the day after the midterm elections – and because I know, whichever way they go, that they’ll still be on everyone’s mind – I wanted to write about what voting could be like in the future if we don’t exercise that right now<\/strong>.)<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Election Day”<\/h2>\n

\"\"As Conn put on her armor, Mei rushed forward, grabbing her arm. \u201cDon\u2019t go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe autodoc says the baby\u2019s fever is 102. He needs antibiotics \u2013\u201c<\/p>\n

Mei pulled her close, breathing out, \u201cBut it\u2019s Election Day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich is why the drug store won\u2019t deliver.\u201d Conn spoke as she buckled the heavy vest into place. \u201cThey\u2019re only two blocks away. I\u2019ll move fast, keep my head down\u2026\u201d She finished securing the vest, pulled Mei into a desperate kiss, checked a last time on little Alex (so hot, so weak<\/em>), then headed out the door. If she stayed one more second her resolve would crumble.<\/p>\n

But they\u2019d fought too hard for Alex. She wouldn\u2019t lose him now.<\/p>\n

The instant she stepped out of their apartment, she heard the sounds from the street, three stories below: shouting, sirens, gun blasts.<\/p>\n

Move fast\u2026head down\u2026no eye contact. <\/em>She could do this. She had<\/em> to do this.<\/p>\n

She jogged down the three flights, trying not to flinch at each new scream or thud from below. The building lobby was deserted; a pool of blood congealed on the floor next to an overturned chair.<\/p>\n

Taking a deep breath, Conn opened the door and stepped outside.<\/p>\n

She was immediately enveloped in chaos. People in masks rushed by her, some waving guns and heavy iron bars. On the other side of the street a car was on fire. Police in riot gear ran past, giving chase. Conn tried not to risk looking at anything for more than a second. Instead she pulled her hood down lower over her face and watched her feet.<\/p>\n

She reached the end of the first block. She could see the drug store sign not far ahead now\u2026<\/p>\n

A huge, uniformed figure stepped in front of her, blocking the way. \u201cExcuse me, citizen \u2013\u201c<\/p>\n

Heart hammering, Conn pretended she hadn\u2019t heard, tried to step around.<\/p>\n

The man sidestepped with her and thrust a badge forward, speaking forcefully. \u201cExcuse me, citizen \u2013 Election Police. Present your ID, please.\u201d<\/p>\n

No. Goddamnit, no. So close. <\/em>\u201cI\u2019m just\u2026my baby is sick, he\u2019s only six months old and he needs antibiotics \u2013\u201c<\/p>\n

The E.P. cut her off. \u201cI don\u2019t recall asking about your baby. I asked for your ID.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conn restrained an urge to cry as she removed a glove and held out her hand. The E.P. scanned her prints, then read the scanner\u2019s screen. \u201cConsuela Cheung, is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what day it is today, Consuela?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir, it\u2019s Election Day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSays here you haven\u2019t voted yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was going to, after I get the medicine for my little boy\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

The E.P.\u2019s hand went to her arm, his grip so firm she wondered if it was bioware-enhanced. \u201cHow about you vote first, Consuela, then you can do whatever you need to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

He began to steer her down a side street. Away from the drugstore. Toward the Voting Center.<\/p>\n

Mei had been right \u2013 she should\u2019ve waited until tomorrow. Alex\u2019s fever might have gone away on its own, she would\u2019ve been there to tend to him\u2026<\/p>\n

The E.P.\u2019s deep voice (was that enhanced, too? Was he even human?) broke into her regrets. \u201cWhere are you from, Consuela? Some third world shithole?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir, I was born right here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you\u2019re a naturalized citizen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Conn said, trying to master being firm without being aggressive, \u201cI was born here.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then, you shouldn\u2019t need me to make sure you vote. Do you believe that voting is a right and a privilege?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you should be celebrating Election Day 2038 by voting, shouldn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

They had to trudge around a scuffle between some rioters shoving against a wall of shielded cops, then they bypassed a line of cautious guards clutching assault tasers and stepped into a large, modern building squatting beneath a huge glowing sign that read VOTING CENTER. Conn saw other citizens being marched forward by Election Police, but she took no comfort in knowing she wasn\u2019t alone.<\/p>\n

Her E.P. flashed a badge to an entrybot that responded in its mechanical voice, \u201cThirty-six.\u201d<\/p>\n

The E.P. led Conn down a long line of rooms, each numbered, until they came to Thirty-six. He held his scanner up to the door, which clicked open. He pushed Conn through, stepping back as the door closed.<\/p>\n

Conn was in a small cubicle, featureless except for a screen set into the wall. The screen abruptly lit up with the smiling face of The Great Leader. \u201cWelcome to Election Day 2038,\u201d he gushed.<\/p>\n

Conn felt her gut turn over. When he was first elected more than twenty years ago, she\u2019d just turned old enough to vote, but she\u2019d stayed home instead. The Great Leader<\/em>, she thought, the Great Asshole.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cToday,\u201d the Leader continued, \u201cyou will participate in the excitement of democracy. Get ready, follow the simple instructions, and do the right thing.\u201dThe camera punched in for a tight close-up as the Leader added, \u201cOr pay the price for your mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face vanished and was replaced by a row of five identical red buttons, none marked. A soft, reasonable voice \u2013 definitely not the Leader\u2019s \u2013 came over the speakers. \u201cVote #1. Please use the touch-screen to make your choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conn waited, expecting some explanation to be offered, but when nothing came after several seconds, she asked, \u201cWhat am I voting on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are voting on #1.\u201d<\/p>\n

Eyeing the unidentified buttons, Conn said, \u201cIs this screen broken?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe voting mechanism is functioning perfectly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do I know what each button is for?\u201d<\/p>\n

This time there was no response.<\/p>\n

Conn turned around and tried to open the door, but there was no knob or handle. She pounded on it, calling out, \u201cHello? If anyone can hear me, I think my machine is broken\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

The machine\u2019s comforting voice said, \u201cYou have five seconds remaining to decide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr what?\u201d Conn asked.<\/p>\n

No answer.<\/p>\n

Feeling panic rising within, Conn stabbed out a finger, hitting anything. The buttons on the screen were replaced by bouncy emoticons giving her a thumbs-up.<\/p>\n

After a few seconds, a new row of buttons appeared. This time they were blue, green, purple, orange, and yellow. The screen was otherwise empty.<\/p>\n

\u201cVote #2,\u201dsaid the voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d Conn said, and punched the purple button.<\/p>\n

A frowning animated face appeared on the screen, as the lights in the room darkened. \u201cWould you like to try that vote again?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUhhh\u2026sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

The buttons appeared again. This time Conn pressed the orange one, and was rewarded with the happy emoticons.<\/p>\n

The screen went completely black.<\/p>\n

\u201cVote #3,\u201d said the voice.<\/p>\n

Conn stared at the featureless screen. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing there\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have five seconds to decide.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conn began pressing the screen at random \u2013 were the buttons black, so they couldn\u2019t be easily seen?<\/p>\n

The dour emoticons appeared again. \u201cYou have failed to exercise your lawful voting privileges.\u201d<\/p>\n

The door to the room opened, and before Conn could react an E.P. had slammed her against a wall and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. \u201cWait \u2013 what are you doing -?\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice answered, \u201cYou will be transferred to a Voters Re-education Camp.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conn struggled as the E.P. tried to pull her from the room. \u201cA what<\/em>? Since when do we have Voters Re-education Camps?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSince tonight. You approved it yourself in Vote #1.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the voting\u2019s still going on! It\u2019s impossible for you to put that into law already!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid it\u2019s not \u2013 that was Vote #2.\u201d<\/p>\n

The E.P. had her out the door now, but for some reason Conn persisted in arguing with the disembodied voice. \u201cBut my little boy is sick, and he-\u201c<\/p>\n

The voice interrupted, \u201cAlex has been taken into custody, as has your domestic partner. She will be sent to a Gender Reorientation Camp, and Alex will receive training in the Leader\u2019s Youth Corps. You should be very proud.\u201d<\/p>\n

Conn\u2019s last thought before the E.P. tasered her was that she should never have stayed home from that election twenty-some-odd years ago.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(This piece was written specifically to be read aloud at an event happening on the evening of November 7th at the Bearded Lady Mystic Museum in Burbank. Because that’s the day after the midterm elections – and because I know, whichever way they go, that they’ll still be on everyone’s mind – I wanted to  [ Read More ]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1817,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[44,38],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1814"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1814"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1814\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1819,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1814\/revisions\/1819"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1817"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1814"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1814"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lisamorton.com\/zine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1814"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}