The Parliament of Ghosts

If one views the human condition as a giant prisoner’s dilemma, then politics is the means through which the deal is offered. It is through politics, the act of making people make choices about exactly how much they value their own rights (a lot) in comparison to other people’s rights (not so much) that we can really delve into the way the human mind works.

The adoption of the Parliament of Ghosts was meant to change this, but, in practice, very little changed. In fact, things arguably became worse. What if the only certain path to immortality was through an election? What lies would people tell, if the reward was never to die? Interestingly enough, the Parliament’s founders seem to have cared little for this possibility; instead they simply hid themselves away as the inaugural members of a new, immortal ruling class of minds in a machine, free to deliberate upon the matters of the day in a sea of pure thought.

Of course, a government is powerless without he consent of the people it governs. Therefore, the citizenry must be given the ability to affect this august body through elections. Otherwise, it would be impossible for each new generation to accept the legitimacy of a government their parents created. So the Parliament gains two new members every year, elected from the populace after a year of difficult campaigning that begins the day after the previous year’s elections. Two people, selected by their peers, represent the influence of the newest generation upon the giant machine that houses the minds of all those elected since the Parliament’s inception.

Some argue that the Parliament is inherently unfair, as mathematics would seem to hold out that each subsequent election has less influence on the composition of the Parliament than the previous, but older members seem surprisingly flexible, and an proposition that was one year denied by the parliament will be taken up after the following year’s overwhelming public response in favor, generally defined by the election of a candidate who makes the issue the core of his campaign. In this manner, the Parliament more resembles direct democracy than most governmental systems. Each election is more of a referendum on the issues of the day, as embodied by the candidates, than a traditional election. Of course, there are some issues that rarely come up, particularly issues regarding the regulation of corporate interests. Running a huge, national campaign requires a great deal of money, and the donors still keep certain things from the general dialogue during the campaign. Still, corruption is not considered an issue–what influence can money have on someone who does not need to worry about re-election?

One interesting provision within the constitution of the Parliament is that a citizen cannot again run for the Parliament if he or she has already run and lost. It is unsure why this provision was constituted, as it only raises the stakes for the candidate to nearly unreasonable levels. If you spent your entire life working towards immortality, and you only had one shot, how cautious would you be? Losing candidates often totally retire from public life, many of them going into the Church: one life of immortality denied, they move their investment from a certain eternity to an uncertain one. And the connections accrued from a lifetime of service are valuable even after a failed bit for the Parliament, so the Church’s forgiveness extends quite a bit beyond the usual limits when a former candidate offers to join.

With the rules of the Parliament and the election of its members such as they are, imagine, if you will, a candidate who has spent his whole life working towards this goal, and who has finally achieved it. Imagine the party he throws, the balloons that drop, the enthralled supporters who have made a difference by getting this politician elected. Imagine him hugging his wife and children, tearfully, knowing he will outlive them, but knowing that he goes to a higher calling, an eternal life of servitude to the people. Imagine the inauguration day, when he delivers his speech along with the other member of his Parliamentary class, when he makes promises and looks forward to helping those brave citizens who worked so hard to get him elected. Imagine his awe as he is ushered into the Chamber of Parliament, a vast white room dominated by a silent monolith with blinking lights and panels and all sorts of technological-looking devices, the purposes of which are beyond him. Imagine his pleasant surprise when the executive of one of his chief donors is there to meet him. And imagine his unpleasant surprise when he and his fellow classmate are both executed by the Steward of the Parliament, who takes their bodies and throws them in the furnace behind the false front of machinery, to make them eternal members of the Parliament of Ghosts.