Fame or Famine

Marco and Julia had twenty-three seconds left as world leaders until the next election cycle. Julia refreshed her screen when a text bubble chirped above her thumbnail: “The famine tested poorly. We pivoted to wartime.”

Julia had been groomed for governance since she was seven.

That was the year she won the Little Miss Oklahoma pageant by reciting the Constitution (Revised, 2027), dancing through the amendments with a practiced smile that made the audience cry. Her mama had stood up afterward and announced to anyone that would listen, “My baby girl is gonna rule this whole dang world.”

​By 18, her path was chosen. She began posting on World Social, the groundbreaking election app that pulled numbers from across the new North American countries. Her posts covered every domestic policy concern. Chicken welfare? Check. Tax deductions for indoor hobbies? Check. AI Companion Accountability boards? Check. Metadata exploded. Julia was popular from Miami to Mozambique. Attention and power had become synonymous.

Julia’s success earned her a spot on POWER COUPLE ACC, the elite matchmaking app for the American Countries Coalition. Here, constituents could swipe left or right on Julia to match her with a suitable gentleman leader. Once matched, Julia would join the 24-hour election cycle, where live camera feeds debated issues and power couples thrived. The cameras never wavered. Power Couple PLUS gave audiences access to night mode, where they could bid on suggestive content. The voice belonged to the people, change took 24 hours, and trends ran the world: #cutekidssmilehour, dental care for any child voted cute.

Marco entered the arena, trending for his workout videos #fitforfuture, on the evening of Julia’s 19th birthday. When she first matched with him, her Mama had lent her one piece of advice: “Push your tatas up, darling, the whole world is watching.”

Marco and Julia were hot. In the last 12 election cycles, they had been unbeatable. The one minor detail threatening their otherwise rosy landscape was that Julia, emphatically, hated Marco.

Since their launch in Power Couple ACC’s sphere, Julia had been forced to keep her circle small. Constant trending decisions and nonstop re-election pushes left few people in her orbit. She needed a friend, a confidante, someone other than Marco that she could talk to about the issues at hand. Days ago, she had sat him down at lunch.

“Darling, I think we should consider bringing someone into our campaign.”

Marco chewed silently, barely acknowledging she had spoken. She waited for him to swallow and flash a grin to the camera. #foodfromfarmers was trending, and he was gnashing the same head of lettuce he had just posed with in a photoshoot.

“Like, into the bedroom?” he finally said.

Julia froze. Their late-night subscribers had been pushing for this.

“No, like a strategist or something. Someone who can help us iron out policies, maybe give some insight into the world famine epidemic I want to start touching on.”

“Babe, we already have a strategy. Keep it close to home. Don’t give people details they don’t need.”

“The data is starting to concern me.”

Initially, Julia had thought that a power couple implied equality. In her early World Social days, she had believed in change. Years in Marco’s universe had left her flat, feeling unseen, unheard, and insignificant.

“Data is my game, baby. You’re more...date.” Marco laughed at his own joke, acknowledging her frown. “Baby, the cameras are watching. If you really think it would help, do what you want. Just don’t touch my protein budget to get it done.”

Julia faked a smile while Marco sauntered off, pulled out her phone, and dialed.

Alex Harris was exhausted. Overhyped media darlings were harder to guide than a Bikram yoga class full of political influencers, all trying to look hot, never warm.

Her assistant, Peter, greeted her with a smile as she walked into the office, juggling a phone, tablet, and coffee. “That power couple reached out today, the ones running Oklahoma.”

“You’re kidding me?” Alex had been watching Julia and Marco’s domination. She didn’t know how to infiltrate their camp; they kept a tight-knit group of yes-men.

“The girl, Julia. She said she wanted to discuss bringing you on the team.”

“Get me the meeting ASAP. Have you seen the stability numbers? The bottom is going to fall out, fast.”

Alex was flown out on a private jet to the island where Julia and Marco lived.

She turned to Peter upon landing, “Wow, Oklahoma looks a lot different these days.”

“Safety protocol. Ever since the White House breach in 2030, these mega-influencers aren’t taking any chances. Plus, posts just perform better with this kind of landscape.”

“How quaint.”

Alex was brought to a patio facing the ocean, where she found Julia sitting alone, absently stroking a Pomeranian.

“Thank you so much for taking this meeting with me,” Alex offered a hand, but Julia didn’t pause her stroke. Instead, she turned weepy eyes directly at Alex’s gaze.

“I need you to help me.”

“My assistant briefed me on your platform on the way here. I see you're currently promoting farm-to-table with great success.”

“Marco loves to work out; it has been very popular with some of our 18-25 year old constituents, male and female.” Julia’s grimace was palpable. “He likes to keep things simple.”

“The recipe is working. You two are predicted to go relatively uncontested for months.”

“Which is precisely why I need your help. Ms. Harris, are you familiar with the actual data? Recent reports indicate that food scarcity in the American countries is nearing 20%. Marco is doing photoshoots with heads of lettuce and pretending that does anything for the actual people suffering.”

Alex kept her face neutral. “Are you suggesting that real issues are not being addressed proactively because of political influencer culture? That, my dear, would be a treasonous statement.”

Julia did not miss a beat. “What I’m suggesting, Alex, is that if we don’t get off our fucking screens, children will starve. I’ve been trained to spin anything. Hunger does not spin.”

Marco strolled onto the promenade, sweat pooling perfectly beneath his brow. He came to kiss Julia’s cheek. She cut him off with a wave of introduction.

“Marco, meet Alex. She is the strategist who is going to help us with some campaign ideas.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alex began.

This time, Marco waved away the pleasantries.

“Are you getting us more brands, because I haven’t heard back from Nike, and there are a lot of other leaders with way fewer followers pulling Nike.”

“I don’t actually make brand deals myself, I’m more of a big picture thinker.”

Marco scoffed, “Is there a bigger picture than Nike? Jules said we were paying you, so, you know, just do it.” Marco winked and walked away.

Alex sat silent. Julia broke the moment.

“He’s impossible. He only cares about his image. If I have to stay by his side for one more minute, I might claw his eyes out.”

“What if I told you I knew a way to make real changes. A project I’ve been working on, under the table.”

“Now who's being treasonous?”

“Do you want to know why I agreed to meet with you today, Julia?”

“The money?”

“Do you remember the Miss Oklahoma pageant you were in when you were 13, before the states dissolved into countries?”

“Of course I remember that, it’s the only time I cried on stage.”

“Exactly. And why did you cry?”

“Because they asked me what I wanted to do to make a difference, and I started talking about literacy, and they had the next act’s baton accidentally catch fire to get me to change the subject. It was the only time I went off book.”

“I was a judge that day, Julia. I’m the one they sent to start that fire. I have never forgotten your face. You might be my only hope.”

“Alex, I’m not a solution. I’m the face of the problem.”

“Don’t you get it? That’s all it takes. One of them daring to speak up against the absurdity of it all. Instead of finding new ways to justify and perform through it, the entire system would come into question.”

“And what if your clever plan doesn’t work? I’m a “them” to you. If you could really make a difference, why haven’t you done it by now?”

“Because I’ve never gotten to talk to the only person who has gone off-book and thrived. I can’t do it alone. But maybe we can. If this fails, my cover is blown. We aren’t risking views, Julia; we are risking our lives.”

Julia stared at herself in the mirror, memorizing the face she had been making up for years. She had been taught how to smile without wrinkling her eyes, how to soften her voice when men interrupted her. She knew how to turn talking points into applause. Being sincere had only mattered if it tested well.

Alex had gone over the plan numerous times. Julia would push forward with famine reform, and her followers would crucify her. Alex would save the day with a new plan, one so sensational that Marco would only think of himself as a hero: start a war, control the narrative.

When Julia received Alex’s text message, she was supposed to faint. The cameras would cut, producers would hover, and in that moment, she could run. Run fast and make it to a waiting SUV. The SUV would get her to the helicopter, and the aircraft would bring her to DC. The name alone made her choke up.

Washington, D.C., was dead and gone, a wasteland, lost in the Civil War of 2030. Here, Alex led a group of civilians committed to restoring democracy. She needed someone who spoke this language, who had played this game, someone whose experience could make people get off their phones and look in the mirror to see what the world had become.

With twenty-two seconds left to go, Julia felt her body brace for the fall, for the run.

Ten.

She felt her vision narrow and her palms sweat.

Five.

She could lean into Marco, expose the entire plan, and watch her likes and followers grow.

Four.

Three.

Two.

At one, Julia fell.

People screamed, and alerts detonated across screens. Marco looked down at her body and then fixed himself to the camera as a producer whispered contingencies, #prayforJulia trending before she had risen, run.

Julia’s heart pounded as she neared the SUV. Cameras began closing in. Alex threw the door open, and Julia crashed inside, panting, out of breath. Her eyes locked with Alex, and she burst into tears, thinking about the years she had performed so willingly within this circus. “Marco?” she asked, wondering if he had bothered to chase after her, knowing he never would. He was live.

“Don’t worry about him.” Alex shushed. “Single leaders poll better in wartime.”