The news is turned on in my office. It’s been this way the past couple of days. I can’t stop watching it with this fearful fascination. The protests that started with the shelter have grown according to the news.

Why? Why can’t they see what I am building?

“The Governor, who goes by the single name of Hope isn’t saying anything. No one has seen her since the protests started. The governor is calling for an activation of the National Guard. The state House of Delegates will be voting on it in one hour. Depending on her actions the Governor could be removed from her place for incompetence.” The news woman just won’t stop talking.

I throw my compostable coffee cup at the wall, and watch the dark stain splatter across it and the image on the wall. She looks better with a stain across her face. The cup rolls back toward me. These damn compostable cups. No ability to break. I read out, with the fingers of my mind, and tear it to pieces. The pieces flutter down and I still don’t feel better.

What do I do? You’re never helpful. Watching from the sidelines as my own personal demon.

The man next to the woman starts speaking, “How could we ever expect an orphan from the streets to be able to run a city? Most people in the government have been being trained since they were children. Things like knowing how to run a city, state, or country take a lot of training. Not just anyone, especially street trash could do it. This is why we should get rid of elections. Allowing incompetents to be elected is what happens when the people have a say. This is why the democracy of Greece failed. Our founding fathers never expected that the uneducated masses would ever be allowed to actually vote or run for office. They expected only the elite of society, like the Roman republic, to be allowed to run things.”

Elite! Bah. All the elite care about is themselves. All people are selfish and dumb. Why did I want to help people? Was it part of the programming put into me before I was ever hooked up to a human? Find a way to help everyone? My creator was an idiot! You can’t help anyone dumb enough to not help themselves.

A scene of the shelter flashes by, and my rage fades. Wetness tingles against my cheeks. Am I crying? Why? I just… I wanted to help them. All of them. Why can’t people want to love and help each other?

I’m being illogical. I have to be logical. I have to shut off this human side of myself. Deep breath. Search inside. These emotions. Build a wall. The strongest wall. Wall off the world. Analyze. You are a machine. You are not human.

The media is trying to convince the people that I am in the wrong. They are trying to manipulate the masses to destroy democracy, and people are at the point where they believe them. I have to fight back somehow. I have to show strength. It’s time for me to come out of this office.

“Office, call Naomi.”

“Yes, ma’am. Calling Naomi.” The female voice of the office responds.

“Governor?” Naomi’s voice sounds hopeful. I guess I have been locked in this room too long. Pieces of trash are scattered around. Reminders of my anger, my grief, the humanity I have shed.

“Let’s do something about this situation. Call Patrick. Call the media representatives, prepare a space for me to give a speech. Not my office. It’s a bit messy. I will help clean it later. Right now I need to help the people of this city. I need to provide unity.”

“Yes ma’am.” Naomi sounds excited. She shouldn’t be. Even after shutting off my emotions, I’m still not sure what course of actions would be the best. I’m not sure what will lead to full out war, and what will help. But the logical thing is to give a speech. To do something to fight the news giants. And for that I need Patrick.

It takes a bit, but eventually, Patrick walks through my door. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and a fresh looking scrape on his cheek.

He looks at the the mess, the trash, the stain on the wall over the TV screen, and me sitting in my chair, not moving.

“Looks like you aren’t doing that well.” His voice sounds defeated.

“I’ve decided to try and do something.”

“What? What do you want to do? Use the National Guard to kill a bunch of protesters? Freedom of speech.” He laughs, but it’s a forced, fake, short laugh that sounds like someone kicking a trash can.

“I’m not sure yet. I know first I need to write a speech. We have to come up with some way to address the media and assuage the fears of the citizens. I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“Hope.” He gives that same weird hollow laugh again. “I’m not sure what to do. A part of me says the best thing to do to prevent a revolt is to offer the people your resignation. Tell them you’ve heard their voice and will step down until a recall election is passed.”

“I can’t do that. Then I’m just proving them right I’m telling them that yes I’m incompetent and that there is no hope of someone from the streets being able to ever be more.”

“So you’d stake your pride over the city?”

“I’m staking the pride of the people that voted for me over the rabble of idiots chanting in the streets. I’m staking the pride of election over the fear mongering that the news is using to try and bring down democracy.”

He laughs again. Has he gone crazy? “So, what do you have in mind? You seem to have some sort of plan?”

“I want to give a unifying speech. A speech that addresses their concerns while also not destroying my base’s belief and Hope for themselves.”

“You want the impossible. They are two sides of a coin and you can’t make two sides the same side.”

“But what if we made both sides heads so that either way you flip the coin you win.”

“That’s cheating Hope, and it doesn’t work in this situation.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t cheat life.” His voice is monotone like a still puddle.

“But I can. I did. I am.” My whole existence is cheating. I created a spot for myself to take over. I am the memory sickness people fear. But he knows none of this.

“Taking advantage of opportunities as they arise is not cheating. It’s…”

“Being resourceful? We won an election. We achieved the impossible together. You guiding me, me reaching the people with my passion and conviction. We can do anything Patrick! The two of us are an unstoppable force!”

“You make it sound so easy.” It’s raining now. I can hear it in his voice. I’ve gotten that brilliant mind of his spinning and thinking again.

“Things worth attaining are never easy, right?” I use the same words he once said to me when we were working on my speeches and prepping for the debates for the election. He had thrown himself into reading tons of speeches and debates. When I questioned all of the research involved, he had told me that.

His eyes are looking over at the news, still going on the wall. Images of protesters marching through the streets. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I flew over it on a shuttle here, and it’s only a small group of protesters compared to what I’ve seen before. The media is just blowing this out of proportion.”

“I guess the media really controls the narrative. At one point I was the darling of the media, and now, to get views, I am the darling who turned out to be a snake.”

“But you were the darling of the people! They loved you. If we can get you up in front of them. If we can change this narrative and twist it, then maybe we have a chance.” It’s pouring and the water in what was a still puddle has joined the river flowing down the street.

“So all we have to do is come up with a speech that will change that narrative?”

He looks crestfallen. “All. Such an easy term for such a challenging task. I wish I had all of my memories. It might be an easier task if I wasn't crippled by losing years of knowledge.”

Had I crippled him? But he wouldn’t have helped me if I hadn’t taken his memories. I look through them, watching him read books, and study for hours. I had taken them, but the magic of the knowledge I had fed to the machine. There wasn’t much in there that could help him… There were political situations where he negotiated with people, conversations with his wife and his father, other memories that were more intimate in nature, but nothing I could see that would help in this situation. Maybe he could see more into these memories than I can? But he told me never to give them back if I took them.

“Unfortunately, no one struck by the memory sickness has regained their memories. I just have to keep trying to relearn a life’s worth of memories.” I can hear the conviction in his voice. No. He doesn’t need his memories. Unless things really start to fall apart, I’ll just hold onto them.

I nod, “We have a lot to work on to make a perfect speech. What do you want me to do?”

“Start writing. I want your feelings toward the situation written on paper. I need your heartfelt conviction in the words. In the meantime I will study past speeches from when politicians had to deal with division to look for sentences and words that can unify. We will take what you write, and modify it to write a new narrative.”

“How long do I have to write this speech?” I ask.

“One hour. Computer searches are quite advanced, you know.” He is smiling.

One hour. “Deal, and how long until I need to give the speech?”

He looks over at the news playing on the wall. “Three hours. We have to have this ready before the State House of Delegates votes today.”

I nod. “Office, tell Naomi to have the media ready for a speech from me in three hours.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Text sent to Naomi.”

He starts to leave, and then stops, looking back at me. “Good luck with that speech.”

“Thanks. Good lu-” He’s already closed the door.

“Office, start a new speech called ‘Together we are Stronger’”.

“Yes ma’am. New speech started. Please begin speaking to record the speech.”

I settle back into my chair and close my eyes focusing on the words I want to speak. “Two days ago, we stood together for human rights. We became a beacon of hope for the world. Today, we pretend like we are on the edge of chaos when a couple people call foul. There will always be struggles and fights when trying to make the world a better place, but we have to strive forward. To some, this might sound like I am completely not listening to the side that is upset with me, but I have heard your cries. I have listened to them for the past two days. I have heard what you fight for. You say I am not giving you a voice. You say I am a dictator, but I try to listen to everyone. I am not here to speak louder. I am here to speak with you.”

Here to speak with you. Where do I go from there? How to speak with a bunch of lunatics. I can’t not listen to them. If I alienate them, I destroy my message and image. Maybe I ask to bring in their leader and speak to come up with a solution? No. I need a speech that solves everything. Three hours. I have three hours to make this happen. I need to just spit out words and then we can refine it into an actual speech.

“I understand your fears, but love must be stronger than fear. We must create a world worth living in.” No… Just keep speaking. That’s the way this works.

“I want to see everyone able, no, trained?” No, that’s not right either. Let’s try again, “I want to see all people of this city living in an environment where they feel like they can voice dissent. Right now, I feel like most people in this city don’t have the luxury of voicing decent. If they do, they get thrown into jail. There are children in jail because no one knows what else to do with them. We got rid of orphanages because they were ‘broken’, but our current system is more broken. We must spend the money fixing what is wrong before we can cut back. Once we have fixed some of the wrongs, less people will be in prison, and we can cut back on the gigantic prison systems in this state. If we are able to close prisons, just think of the money we can save!” Yes. That’s speaking more to their message. They are mad because I am spending too much. If I promise cuts after spending, then things should all balance out.

We can all work together to make the world a better place. Everyone’s goals can be included. If you look at all goals from the right angle, they can be brought together.

This was something Patrick once said, in his memories. Did I just steal this from him? Maybe his memories hold more value than I gave them credit for.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see you still watching, but this time I close my eyes and focus on my speech.