Empathy Patch

Ryn scrolled Algora over breakfast, only mildly interested in the day's issues. “The Capital proposes new funding for affordable homes South of Vell. Owner and CEO hopes this will reduce financial hardship on low-stability families.”

“Don’t see how that could do any harm,” Ryn nodded as she took another bite of her sandwich. The headline on her screen turned from grey to green, signaling that her agreement had given them a vote.

“Should empathy scores determine access to historical materials?” Confused, Ryn clicked the headline for more context. “Emotional trauma can harm your psyche, tarnish performance, and cause relational trouble. Releasing historical accounts of violence only to those with sufficient emotional maturity reduces mental and emotional stress on the nation.”

Still unsure, Ryn read the top-pinned comment. “Cael says: By implementing emotional safeguards like this one, we can install nationwide compassion and protection instantly. This gives young, impressionable, and unstable people hope for a softer and more comfortable existence.”

She scrolled and read a few good points. As soon as she mentally came around, the headline turned green—another vote.

“Should children under 16 receive neuro-voting implants?” Ryn didn’t need more context for this one; she hadn’t even agreed with adding 16 and 17-year-olds to the mix. The headline turned red.

Sighing, Ryn closed the interface and prepared for her interview. Unemployed for almost six months, she finally had a shot at an entry-level ethics algorithm designer role at The Capital. It didn’t offer an excellent salary, but there was potential. Ryn had prepped like crazy; she even researched current employees to see what types they hired.

“Design frameworks that align citizen choice with ethical responsibility, ensuring collective decisions reflect universal values.” Read the job description. A firm believer in the eternal democracy they’d established, she relished the thought of working directly on Algora to ensure its fairness, equity, and humanity remained intact.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Vire. How are you?” the interviewer asked, sporting a sharp suit, flashy stilettos, and expensive glasses.

Ryn took a deep breath and smiled, “I’m great, thank you.”

“Excellent, follow me and we’ll get started.”

Though mentally exhausted, Ryn left elated after they hired her on the spot.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Sultan. I’m very excited about this,” Ryn kept her expression in check as they shook hands.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!” Mrs. Sultan smiled as Ryn turned to leave.

The first few weeks went well, and Ryn made a fast friend while quickly earning a performance bonus.

“Congrats on your fifth bonus already! You truly were made for this job.” Tessa grinned as they waited for their lattes at the company’s on-site cafe.

“Thanks, girl. It was a real lifesaver, too. I almost didn’t make rent. By the way, how’s your artwork proposal going?”

Tessa grimaced. “Eh, not great. I believe in my work, but I suppose it's a little on the edgy side; it’s not getting much green. But I will press on. Maybe make some changes.”

“Maybe you just need to soften it a little, especially since it’s your debut project.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Ryn, I’ve got your first solo project. Do you think you’re ready?” Mrs. Sultan appeared at Ryn's desk after lunch.

Ryn paused, a lump catching in her throat. Her hand shook as she lifted it to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Yes! I’d love to hear about it.”

“Great!” Mrs. Sultan plopped a thick file onto the desk. “We’re working on an Empathy Patch regarding the reintroduction of humane euthanasia. We need you to tweak the compassion calibration index. Unsurprisingly, the public reception is divided. We’re experiencing a high volume of volatility. Review the public language, identify the most triggering phrases, and create more neutral wording.”

Ryn’s stomach dropped. This is not what she'd pictured her first solo assignment to be about. “Sounds good, I’m on it!” She cracked open the file as Mrs. Sultan turned to leave.

Over the next few days, she identified several problematic phrases within the proposal and replaced them with compassionate alternatives:

“Choose to die,” became “Opt out of continued treatment.”

“Euthanasia chamber,” became “Neural deactivation suite.”

“Suicide,” became “Post-volition rest.”

She also adjusted several markers in the code to ensure the vote reached a broader audience of high-stability adults.

“Finally done. This should reduce panic and keep the conversation respectful.” Ryn thought to herself, feeling accomplished.

“Hey, you wanna get lunch?” Tessa appeared at her desk an hour later, beaming.

Ryn chuckled. “Sure, what’s the occasion?”

"My proposal finally got voted! They’ll install my mural and its companion pieces next week!”

“Wow, that’s amazing! What changed?”

“Cael from Unity Bloc reached out! I couldn’t believe it. But he was able to help me rebrand. With a few design tweaks, the public devoured it! Look, here’s the final product.” Tessa held out her phone for Ryn to see.

Ryn took it and scrolled, frowning slightly. These weren’t minor tweaks; all semblance of depth and darkness was gone. Looking back at Tessa’s exhilarated expression, she couldn’t burst her bubble. She plastered on a smile and handed the phone back.

“They’re beautiful! Let’s celebrate, lunch is on me.”

Ryn let Tessa excitedly ramble about everything upcoming while she mulled it over internally. She’d never given Unity Bloc much thought. They were one of Algora’s biggest promoters, pushing issues they believed in and creating healthy discussion; mostly harmless.

In her research later that day, Ryn discovered that Cael and Unity Bloc were at the helm of most large-scale political discussions throughout Algora. Cael's comments were compassionate and persuasive; never critical.

She clicked on Cael’s profile: Founder + Manager: Unity Bloc.

She went to the Unity Bloc homepage. Their slogan splashed across the banner, backed by soft, comforting orange and purple hues: “Together, we decide everything. Consensus is progress; Unity is the highest good.”

Ryn scrolled back almost a year, noting each headline, decision, and initiative that Unity Bloc had pushed. It seemed their user engagement and support surged a few weeks ago when they announced their collaboration with The Capital to help promote “compassionate collective voting and ethical alignment.”

“Interesting,” Ryn narrowed her eyes at a picture of Cael and The Capital Supervisor shaking hands. She couldn't pinpoint any particular issue with these advancements, but couldn't exactly identify the specific benefits, either.

Checking her email the next morning, Ryn noticed a message from the system flagged as high importance: Empathy Patch Feedback Brief.

Her heart dropped at the first statistic: participation in what the public had dubbed “The Quiet Exit” was up by an astronomical 350%; at least three times the predicted rise. Upon examining the report, she discovered that the dramatic increase primarily occurred in low-income areas.

On paper, Ryn knew she should be pleased; her work had paid off. What she didn’t expect was so many more people to sign up. The assignment packet made it seem like they wanted to quell the outcry and encourage people to support its ongoing legality.

Curious, she performed an internal backend search within Algora. It brought up various anonymous message threads regarding the topic, with one comment standing out:

“My grandmother didn’t even know she had options. She thought The Quiet Exit was the recommended treatment for her condition. The message appeared on her Civic Feed like a health and wellness suggestion. Upon speaking to her doctor, she assumed it was mandatory.”

The system flagged the comment as low alignment but non-malicious. It had low engagement, despite being part of a highly active thread.

She looked carefully over her shoulder as she performed her next search. One by one, she brought up data for all active healthcare, medical funding assistance, and social program ballots she could recall. Each one shared a similar trajectory: they were all deprioritized at the same time they pushed her Empathy Patch through. The same low-income zones that the Patch targeted received almost 100% less visibility for life-sustaining options.

Her heart raced as she compiled her findings into a list and printed it off. She hurried down the hallway and knocked on her superior’s door.

“Hello, Ryn, is everything alright?” Mrs. Sultan asked, concern forming on her face as she took in Ryn’s worried expression.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, come in.”

Ryn stepped in and handed over her findings. “I read through the feedback brief on my Empathy Patch, and I think I did it wrong. It looks like low-income zones were disproportionately affected. The Quiet Exit was pushed hard while alternatives and financial assistance were essentially blocked.”

Mrs. Sultan briefly scanned her sheet of data before placing it in her desk drawer. She looked up with a warm smile. “It’s actually one of the most successful patches we’ve seen. The relief on the system is already measurable.”

Ryn felt a cold shiver crawl down her spine. She locked eyes with Mrs. Sultan, and her expression made it clear that any further discussion would not end well.

Ryn cleared her throat. “Okay, that’s good to know. I was worried since the results were so far above the prediction models.”

“The prediction models are purposely conservative.” Mrs. Sultan said, maintaining direct eye contact.

Ryn nodded and left, heart still pounding. She returned to her desk to see that Tessa had arrived for the day. She didn’t make eye contact, but Tessa’s all-encompassing positivity was hard to avoid.

“Morning, Ryn! I heard the brief for your patch came out, how’d it go?”

Ryn hesitated, but decided she could benefit from an extra perspective. “Well, the numbers were a lot higher than anyone predicted, and they stopped pushing other healthcare alternatives at the same time. I’m not sure how to feel about it.” She kept her expression neutral.

Tessa thought for a moment, “I think that means you did a good job, right? The idea is for more people to understand and use it.”

"Right." More people to use it. “I’m just not used to being responsible for such drastic results.”

Tessa smiled again. “They proved Algora infallible decades ago. Our job is simply to ensure it runs smoothly. Don’t sweat it,” she shrugged.

Ryn returned the smile, tempted to feel better but unable to shake her unease. Though initially determined to look into it further, the continuous daily assignments made dwelling on it difficult.

“The managers above Mrs. Sultan like you. I heard a Level One Dev say you have the fastest implementations of any other ethics engineer,” Tessa told her one day over coffee. Coupled with the frequent bonuses, Ryn’s motivation to work hard and impress grew until she received another solo project.

“The Managers want you working on the newest Empathy Patch,” Mrs. Sultan gave Ryn a pointed look. “They’re hopeful for similar results to last time.” She slid ;the folder over without breaking eye contact.

Ryn flipped to the title page, “Civic Exit Recommendation.” As she read through the main points, the familiar knot in her gut returned.

“They want to push the Quiet Exit on the long-term unemployed?” Ryn looked up at Mrs. Sultan and asked without thinking.

Mrs. Sultan chuckled humourlessly. “No, dear, they want to encourage those who may be ready for the procedure but cannot empower themselves to consider it. It’s a gentle nudge in a compassionate direction. We'll release it once you finalize the messaging. The second half will be an internal patch. You’ll conduct a sentiment analysis to determine which feeds the ballot enters.”

Ryn left without a word. Messaging patches had become second-nature.

“Terminal illness,” became “prolonged vitality variance.”

“Social services drain,” became “public support saturation point.”

“Low value-individual,” became “non-contributing status.”

“Suggested euthanasia,” became “Well-being autonomy invitation.”

And so on.

They approved the messaging patch the same day. Her mouse hovered over the Sentiment Analysis program, but she couldn’t bring herself to click it. Before she could change her mind, she opened the Vulnerability Analysis program instead. She ran her keywords and pulled up categories of truly vulnerable, terminal, suffering individuals.

She filtered the results through the Algora threads to determine who had already expressed interest or willingness. Feeling better, she uploaded the approved ballot with shaky hands and clicked “install.”

Following this minor breach, she was unsurprised by the subsequent meeting request. Thankfully, Ryn knew she’d have a week to prepare before the brief. She gathered her file, which contained research, essays, studies, and in-depth reasoning.

She was surprised by the room full of Managers and Devs, however. Initially unsettled, Ryn quickly felt better when they all smiled at her.

“Thanks for coming, Ryn.” Mrs. Sultan stood and gestured toward a chair. Ryn sat, barely perched on the edge.

A man cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve seen the Civic Exit Recommendation Feedback Brief by now?”

Ryn nodded. The man continued, “Right, well, I’m sure you’d agree that the results were not as expected. Although you technically broke protocol, we wanted you to know that your insight and compassion have not gone unnoticed. Ethics Engineers must have a certain level of heart for their people to be effective.”

Ryn blinked and looked at Mrs. Sultan, who smiled stiffly. “What Cael is trying to say is that we’d like to offer you a promotion. Your unique approach to the patches and ballots has inspired us to create a new position: an Equity Integration Consultant. It’ll come with a significant pay raise, of course, and you’ll make a real difference.”

“Indeed,” Ryn swiveled her chair as Cael spoke, “You’ll perform multiple analyses on empathy patches, internal messaging, etcetera, to ensure the correct people receive the ballot. Much like you did with this one, only, no more going rogue.” Cael finished with a wink as the room chuckled.

“So, what do you say?” Mrs. Sultan held her gaze, lips turned slightly downward.

Ryn’s head spun. Had her analysis pivot opened their eyes? She grew more excited as she thought; she could make significant changes to the categories where ballots are installed. She could make sure people weren't fooled or confused by the options presented to them.

She smiled, “That sounds great. Thank you so much!”

“Excellent. I shall show you to your new office.” Mrs. Sultan gestured for her to follow.

Beaming, she couldn’t wait to tell Tessa. When she arrived back at their cubicles, Tessa was absent, but her computer screen was still on. She hadn’t planned to snoop, but a strange headline caught her eye: “Civic Exit Recommendation Possible Messaging Samples.” Her smile froze.

A scroll showed they’d reassigned her Patch to Tessa. Ryn blinked at the screen. Sentiment Analysis results were in. Tessa’s suggested phrasing echoed her own, only colder.

“He’s reached a support saturation point. A well-being autonomy invitation may soon be issued.”