Cnut Songs #22: The Every (4)

King Cnut could not hold back the tide, and I cannot hold back society's full-throttle descent into dystopia. All I can do is watch helplessly from the sidelines, and nod my head sagely when others hold a mirror up to the madness. Which is why I've been using this space over the past few weeks to quote excerpts from Dave Eggers' novel, The Every. Because everyone should read it and face up to the horror...

In this extract, the Every introduces a new app which can measure the quality of friendship. Delaney suggested it as a joke, but once it’s been developed, it quickly goes viral…

Delaney did not breathe. It was AuthentiFriend. Everything was the same, but far more developed, and now it was called Friendy.

“Terrible name,” Joan said, “I hate it already.”

“No,” Preeti said. “It’s like a lie detector test. It tells you if someone’s honest, candid. You know dogs can sense cancer? This senses any untruth. Anything hidden, withheld. Is the word guile?”

“It can sense guile? That’s fucking dark,” Joan said.

“What’s the big number in the corner?” Helen asked. In the upper right of the screen, above Urmila’s face, a number – 88 – was pulsing.

“That’s overall quality of friendship,” Preeti said. “You know the stats about friendship. You live longer and healthier if you have quality friendships. That’s why the slogan.” She pointed to the screen’s upper left corner, where the words “Who are you real friends?” were written in a sharp and accusatory font.

“It’s about quality, not quantity,” Preeti said. “We’re always worried about the number of friends we have, when we should be assessing the quality of those friendships.”

“This is sulphurous,” Joan said, and Delaney loved her for it.

“It’s just for fun,” Preeti said.

“That is some diabolical fun,” Joan said.

Her opinion was in the minority. The others were trying to decide on someone they should call – a test subject. Berit had a college friend she thought would be appropriate. Minutes later, a dark-haired woman named Anita appeared on the main screen. She was in Uppsala, Sweden.

“Hi, Anita!” Berit said. She had positioned herself across the room, in a quiet corner. To Anita, Berit would appear to be alone, talking to her on a tablet. But everyone else was watching Anita on the large screen.

“How are you?” Berit asked.

Anita’s answer, “Good!” was deemed untruthful.

“Are you sure?” Berit asked.

“Yes. Why?” Anita asked.

Friendy’s red lights were pulsing – lack of candour, guardedness.

“I’ve always meant to ask you,” Berit said, “when we were in college, you went to the Stockholm archipelago with a bunch of people. Remember?”

“Of course,” Anita said. “Why?”

“My boyfriend at the time went with you,” Berit said. “Remember Per?”

Delaney’s brain was on fire. A moment ago Berit had seemed confident and kind, and now, with this weaselly tool, she’d become a weasel.

“I do,” Anita said uncertainly.

“You always seemed to have a thing for Per, am I right?” Berit asked.

“I wouldn’t say it was a thing,” Anita said. “Berit, why are you bringing this up now? It was eight years ago. I haven’t seen Per since that summer.”

“I just always had a feeling something happened between you two on that trip. And remember I couldn’t go. My brother was dying.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve always been sorry you couldn’t be with us,” Anita said, her voice quavering and eyes growing wet. Friendy’s sensors were going wild. “Nothing happened between us.”

A green light pulsed. This was truthful. The crowd was impressed. Berit pressed on.

“Just tell me,” she said. “You were attracted to him, yes?”

“Oh Berit,” Anita said. “When are you coming home next? Maybe we can talk then. I don’t like this.”

Overall Anita’s truthfulness score was in the low 20s.

“Never mind,” Berit said. “I got the answers I needed.”

And she ended the connection.

“This was a good friend of yours?” Preeti asked.

“Since we were six,” Berit said.

“Berit!” Joan snapped. ”Have you regressed to thirteen years old? You can’t take this seriously. It’s a fucking app that some nerds here developed.”

Berit laughed. “I know. I know it’s silly. I’ll call her again some other time and get a read on things.”

Ro comforted her. “Give her a few more chances. Average them together.” Her eyes were soft and magnanimous, almost saintly. “She deserves that – an aggregate score.”

Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood recorded two albums together, in 1968 and 1972. They are essential listening. Less well known is their third collaboration, from 2004, just three years before Barton Lee's death. For some insane reason, this record was never released in the UK, and was only ever available on import from Australia. Utterly absurd, as it's a fantastic album that never fails to put a huge smile on my face...