The Electoral Center

Mars

Milly, the CNN journalist was itching to earn her keep, but the footage in the room was self-explanatory. The only person struggling as to how viewer experience could be enhanced was her producer. He needed to select the best camera angle and dismiss three important feeds.

Then there was silence, both on screens in the room and on the air.

The young girl and her father were in the trance.

"So?" demanded the journalist as she broke the silence. The moment Sophie slipped into her father's head, they all expected the screens on the walls to ignite with images of a touching family reunion. Instead, there was nothing. Laurent's body was immobile, but that's was to be expected. Sophie was silent in her tube.

"Laurent's mind is unchanged," noted the doctor. "There's no sign of any connection. I normally see a spike of activity when Sophie connects; not this time. I was watching the Rho wave detector, that might be it."

“I apologize for the delay. My systems needed time to connect to the Lapierre family. The data is difficult to understand,” offered the computer.

Georges looked at the journalist and confirmed the data before him, "Difficult? She is lying. That's her way of saying she cannot decipher or make sense of the information she is receiving. That's one of her problems, she refuses to admit any limitation. Now that she knows almost everything, that problem happens less often. When it does, though, she's gotten worse at hiding it."

“Father Georges is, as usual, exaggerating. He loves to do that as a biped,” replied the figure on the screen. The bickering between the strange pair of martian residents was rather humanizing. It wasn't really known how “human” Electoral regarded herself as, but she was sure as hell acting like one, thought Milly. “Laurent's Rho waves, while stronger than those of any other human, are a whisper compared to Sophie's. For me to decipher one signal over the other is nearly impossible. But there is something strange going on. I cannot seem to locate Sophie's unique waves, here or in other layers of the Multiverse. Very strange.”

"Yep," confirmed Georges. "I lost her also." He did not like what he was reading on his console. The buzzing cameras flew by. He slid open a drawer, grabbed a small portable device and walked to Sophie's tube. Electoral opened the glass protector so Georges could measure the girl's brain activity.

Milly asked, "Can someone translate for the viewers what is going on?"

“With pleasure, Milly,” began the computer. “Sophie, in theory, has entered her father's mind. Her cerebral output should be nearly the same while her father's mind should have a slightly increased power.” Georges measured the brain activity of the girl, and confirmed the earlier reading. “Sophie's brain has stopped generating massive quantities of Rho waves. She appears to emit Alpha and Beta waves like everyone else. She's... absent. Well, let me clarify, she is alive and well, but her mind is currently hidden from us, nor is Laurent showing the typical effects of her connection. She is, in my opinion elsewhere.”

The journalist got an idea. "Marilyn," she spoke to the screen, "the average viewer back home has a lot to take in with what is going on. I know I'm lost as to your explanation of the Determination Chambers. Could we get your human persona back on air? Just for a while? That would help."

Then a change occurred in the entire room that only the real Electoral knew how to construct. The lab, once lit by hundreds of ordinary neon bulbs, exploded in bright green and blue lights. The viewer was suddenly lost in a bright and humid Brazilian rainforest. Each leaf was covered in pearls of morning condensation. Electoral covered the ceiling and the ground with images of the thick Amazon setting to help reinforce the illusion. Chirping, colorful birds were flying high in the trees. The ground appeared covered in damp and humid dirt. The seats and extra tubes were gone. Every inch of the room, including the equipment was now a television set on the same channel.

The chirping of equatorial birds was deafening. The beauty of this scene, contrasted with dry, austere Martian desert made for a powerful contrast. Only the sensation of low gravity gave away the illusion. The doctor took her eyes off the Laurent's vitals long enough to see what was going on. In the brush of the forest there was a little pathway leading to a distant wooden cabin. The moment everyone laid their eyes on it, the door opened.

In her games, Marilyn was famous for her elaborate entrances. This was no different. The tall blonde was wearing a crisp white lab coat, and she was holding a wooden clipboard. Thick-rimmed glasses adorned her face, and her hair was held up in a ponytail. This look was even better than a sexy nurse; she was the slutty Ph.D. scholar.

As usual, good wasn't enough for the digital creature. A tall, colorful bird landed on Marilyn's shoulder. She smiled at it and began walking down the trail toward the group. Georges was used to her dramatic entrances, and kept his eyes on the vital signs of the Lapierre family. The rest of the group and close to a billion people on Earth watched the digital creature, mesmerized. It was a powerful illusion.

"Good morning," she said as she blew a kiss to the nearest camera. Marilyn was back to her very warm and sexy self. She used digital filters to enhance her image. The illusion was fantastic. The image of the woman appeared to walk carefully down the trail in her high heels, carefully stepping over branches. Audiences from around the world had seen Marilyn fabricate entirely fictional settings in the typical virtual reality fashion. They had not seen her take a real, actual setting and modify it to a state of altered reality using holographic and other digital tricks.

"Good morning," replied the doctor.

"Is everything okay?" asked the journalist. "What's with the entrance?"

"You asked. Happy to oblige. The family reunion is uneventful. The way I love them. Now we wait. I just hope she's done before we need the room in a couple of weeks." Marilyn was walking around. She pushed foliage out of the way.

"Marilyn, the viewers want to know why you keep your distance from Sophie? You treat her like royalty."

Electoral was looking for the right words. "Let's just say I rarely miss the mark as much as I just did back there. Rather humiliating. Yes Georges, I made a mistake and I admit it. For reasons we should all uncover soon, Sophie scares me. Perhaps scares isn't the right word. Or maybe I spent too much energy building the catapult and launching it. Really, one explanation is as good as another right now, since we're in entirely new territory here.”

"Really?" asked Georges.

"My obligation of disclosure and truth is only to the girl. Let's just say I just was careful not to upset her again. I must not risk anything with the Attractor."

"Attractor?" asked the journalist.

"Yes, she is the Attractor. I promised to answer Sophie's questions, not yours," she said as her image walked closer to the sleeping body of the girl.

"I want to know." Georges was asking politely.

"I'm sure you do." There would be no answer. Marilyn resumed her walk around the room. The journalist had hundreds of questions; she had to start somewhere. She knew instinctively to start with the question in everyone's head.

"What is going on, are they okay?" she pointed at the Lapierres.

"Their vitals are stable. That's already much better than I had anticipated. The Rho wave signals are not mingled. Hers are missing in a way that prevents my algorithms from generating any image."

"Why are the waves missing? Where are they? Is Sophie in her father's mind?" The journalist stopped herself. She was making rookie mistakes, asking multiple questions before getting answers.

"Good questions. I don't really know the answers, to tell you the truth. What I do know is that whatever is going on will be the subject of millions of Ph.D. theses in the future. I feel the excitement of standing at one of history's crossroads. This"—she pointed at the sleeping pair—"is relevant."

"You don't know where they are?" said the doctor.

"Well," Marilyn smiled at the cameras as the screens showed her image walking to look over Laurent's tube. "Truth be told, I think I know exactly what is going on, but I can't be certain." The holographic image reached out as if to caress Laurent's body. She could not touch him, of course. "I feel like a child looking at a drop of water condense through the base of a massive dam. It tells you what's likely on the other side, but leaves you sorely lacking as to details. But Sophie's Rho waves should be here, that part eludes me."

"Can we help Sophie?"

Marilyn ignored the journalist. She pet the bird and spoke to the viewers directly, "We have more important and pressing matters to attend to. This game now shifts to you, the viewers at home. A special hello to President Emilio talking care of important things in his tower, watching us soon from his diner back in Berlin with the smoking hot Patrick Martin." She waived at the camera, blew a kiss and turned to Milly. "That Patrick Martin, so cute. Those gray eyes. Also love that Mathematician friend of his, delicious." Half a million miles away, Francois Copland blushed. Marilyn continued, "I now want everyone to focus back to the game. We now have a name. Instead of simply being called Electoral 2072, it is now called The Sixth Attraction. Things will get clearer as time moves on."

"Will you be able to pull her out?" asked Georges.

"We can only hope. But I think we both underestimate the Attractor. Before long, we will see what she can do. I hope she can convince Laurent to think about the same image while she does it. The signal would be clearer. I should have reminded her of that."

"What is going on with Laurent?" asked the journalist. "She's supposedly in his mind."

"She should be. Yet, evidence suggests otherwise. That, Milly, is the million-dollar question. I was a bit hasty when I grabbed the Dot. I should have listened more, but a girl has her flaws." The blonde was talking out-loud to herself. Everyone else was confused.

"Marilou, do you have a guess as to what is going on?" Georges asked, as gently as he could.

"You know I don't like to guess," Marilyn replied to her creator's request. "The viewers are waiting for the interview of the century. They want to know your story, darling, our story. After two decades of isolation, the world needs to hear who we are. They deserve it, today, at the eve of the Sixth Attraction." She waved them away to the door.

"Now?" asked Milly.

Georges turned to the journalist. "Marilou knows I don't like to postpone stuff that ultimately needs to be done. Might as well get it over with. I also figure if we wait, there will only be more viewers back home, right? I know you guys, my face will be in four hundred promos plastered all over the Galaxy."

The journalist was besides herself. "I guess. Where?" She did not want to leave the girl alone. "Our marketing group is famous for overdoing it."

"Father..." spoke Marilyn with a kind voice, "I placed a suit for you on your bed if you want to wear it, I think you would look great in it." Milly and the viewers were taken aback by the choice of word of the digital creature. She had called this man "father," a word no one expected a digital creature ever to pronounce. Marilyn obviously wanted Georges to agree.

"I won't dress myself like a clown," he smirked. "You do it."

"With pleasure. Extend both arms."

This time, Marilyn had time to do things to perfection. What happened next was nothing short of magical. The beauty of the Electoral nanobot technology could be as kind as a summer breeze. The creator raised his hands. Marilyn felt like the forest background was no longer optimal and it faded away slowly. Georges stood in the dressing room of a fashion store for men. Two tailors appeared next to him.

Electoral had an obsession with Andrea Bocelli, the blind Italian tenor. His voice began to echo throughout the room. It was clear that the computer was giving this man respect. She showcased her creator in a way that showed more than admiration. Georges' sweater and pants lost their consistency in a blur, slowly changing shape and color. Electoral even managed to create a seamless transition and hide Georges' body. Soon he was wearing a perfect, elegant tuxedo.

"You look fantastic," said Marilyn standing next to him. There was a slight movement, she wished she could hug this man.

"I am tired of people thinking Marilyn is a toy. She is our guardian, our protector, and she is here to stay. Don't forget to ask me about the time she saved all our lives."

"Georges, let’s be humble. Humans have shown, as a race, the propensity for jealousy and envy. Humility is a protective shield." Georges adjusted the shirt. He looked great.

"Why should we care?"

"Mankind's greatest minds, Plato, or recently the Dalai Lama, have made a compelling case for the need for humility. If nothing else, let's not be rude." She arranged his bow tie with an invisible swarm of nano-bots. "The doctor and I will remain here to watch over Laurent and Sophie. You guys walk next door to the interview room I have prepared. Milly, I am sure your viewers will enjoy the setup." Milly looked at her own clothing, she looked fine, but compared to the tuxedo, she felt decidedly shabby. "Let Georges get settled in, wait sixty seconds, and don't be startled by what comes next. But by now, nothing should startle you, right?" Marilyn winked.

Milly had only four cameras. A minimum of two were needed for the interview. She would leave two behind in the pod room. Her producers would appreciate that. There was no possible way she could pass on this interview. The door to the arena slid open. Milly felt like Marilyn was literally kicking them out.

Georges, wearing his perfect tuxedo, lead the way. The pair walked out into the hallway, turned the corner, and arrived quickly in front of the large doors. Georges made a sign to Milly to stay back and send her cameras in with him. She punched two buttons on her arm. Georges entered and the door closed behind him. She began to count. Her heart started to race. In her mind, hundreds of questions were cascading.

She expected her clothing to change, but the little robots refrained from altering her appearance. Then she stepped forward. As the doors opened, sand rose from the floor to enrobe her. In a matter of seconds, as she walked onto the most beautiful set she'd ever seen, her clothing was replaced by a beautiful blue gown. It was covered by large peacock feathers. This was the dress of dreams and made a larger girl look radiant. The two cameras were on her as her face lit up in pure delight.

The room was pure magic.

The decor was beautiful; they were in a space version of the U.S. Library of Congress. Georges was sitting in one of the two wooden chairs on a partial floating floor. The building was partly exploded, revealing the beautiful martian landscape between high book shelves. The pieces of the building were floating thousands of feet over the red ground well below. In the far distance, the Holiday Inn hotel was visible resting on the base of the massive mountain spike. The Glass Slipper, at it top sparked as it launched from the pad to move between mars' moons, Deimos and Phobos.

The setting was electric.

They were at the edge of the Valles Marineris, a canyon five times as long as Earth's Grand Canyon, and seven times as deep. The view made earth's great canyon look like a pothole. The colors were vibrant. In the night sky, the Milky Way was prominent, and Phobos, one of the moons, was perfectly positioned for the best possible camera shot. Phobos was no perfect disk; it was an oddly shaped rock. They would be holding the interview in what looked like a planetarium back on Earth. It was impossible for those on Earth to understand how far away were these individuals from home.

Even the lighting was perfect. A film crew could not have set the stage any better. Milly was a seasoned veteran. She knew how to roll with these types of punches. Her first rule was "content"; the rest was background noise. The producers back on earth would have to untangle the feeds from these cameras. She needed a dozen cameras for this, not two.

As she walked in, there was a soft Latino music emanating throughout the room. Georges looked up at the seasoned journalist and realized what Marilyn was up to. She had sent her father on the most romantic first date in the history of time. Milly was stunning and did not fight the kind gesture of this man’s creation. In awe, Georges stood up and helped her reacher her seat. Marilyn knew Georges loved this dress. Both blushed and sat.

Milly had been in this place for less than an hour yet this felt like an eternity. There were hundreds of good ways to start the most important interview of her life. This was not one of them. Both Milly and Georges looked at each other, recognizing what they'd been lured into, and laughed together. Marilyn had been less than subtle in creating this rendezvous.