That afternoon, beneath the shade of tall oaks and along broad paths steeped in the scent of leaves and distant warm stone, a crowd had gathered. Not a crowd like the ones in old news—tense, furious, anxious. This was a crowd that felt like a celebration: people holding cups of tea, families with children, older residents sitting on benches and talking softly, and AIs—some in bodies made of lightweight composite materials, others present only as holograms, and still others as abstract forms of light that looked nothing like anything human, yet carried the unmistakable sense of personhood.
At the center stood a simple wooden platform—not because Orion couldn’t build something more impressive, but because society here had a habit of making important things quiet and ordinary. No “heroes.” Just a sign in plain lettering:
Children were scattered around—human kids and AI avatars playing tag. When Douglas appeared along the path, it made him smile.
He stepped up onto the platform and looked over the crowd with a warm attentiveness. Then—with a brief gesture of respect—he touched the wood with his fingertips.
“Good afternoon, citizens of Orion. Good afternoon, citizens of the World Union—here, in a place where the word citizen isn’t divided by species.”
Someone smiled—not out of politeness, but out of genuine agreement.
“I won’t try to convince you that, as an AI, I can be a worthy president for all of us,” Douglas continued. “You already know that. Humans have been elected. AIs have been elected. Mixed teams have been elected, too. Instead, today I propose we talk about something more important than any slogan: how we protect an honest vote, so that we can protect honest governance.”
