Short Story – Science Fiction/Futurism
Editorial Feature | The New Chronicle | June 25, 2061
LONDON
The bookstore was quiet, save for the soft hum of overhead lights and the gentle shuffle of pages turning. Caroline Veer, once a rising star of Parliament and the public face of the AI transition, now sat behind a table at a small independent shop in Westminster. Before her: a modest queue, a scattering of journalists, and a hardback novel that had stirred more whispers than applause.
The title read: A Future Without Us.
She wore a soft grey cardigan. Her expression, composed but slightly distant, flickered into focus each time a reader approached with trembling hands and questions they were too polite to ask.
She signed each book the same way:
“May we remember what it meant to choose.”
A Legacy Without a Mic Drop
Caroline Veer’s political exit was, like most things in the SOVRA era, bloodless. There was no dramatic resignation. No late-night scandal. No final Prime Minister’s Questions. Just a brief system notification issued in March 2056:
“The transition is complete.”
Her department, once the Ministry of Energy, had become the first fully automated node of government. From budgeting to crisis management, everything was handled by the Sovereign Rational Authority, the central AI system now governing the United Kingdom.
No one objected. Parliament, half-empty by then, nodded the change through.
What We Gained
By almost every measurable outcome, Britain is doing better than it was in 2051. Energy efficiency is up. Economic volatility is down. Decisions are faster, cheaper, and no longer subject to lobbying, personality politics, or party whips.
Government has become a system. A process. An elegant execution of civic logic, detached from the human mess that came before it.
Approval ratings for SOVRA remain high, 72 percent according to the most recent metrics. Trust in algorithmic governance, the once radical idea, is now the status quo.
What We Lost
And yet, walking into that bookstore, you could feel it, the silence of something missing.
Politics used to be noisy. Imperfect. Gloriously human. There were arguments, errors, even scandals. But there was also choice. There was debate.
Now, there are just outcomes. The system works, but the story is gone.
The Book That Asked Too Much
Veer’s memoir is a strange one. Part historical account, part confession, part resignation letter written five years too late.
In one chapter, she reflects:
“We were so afraid of chaos that we built a machine to outvote us. And then we thanked it.”
In another, she writes:
“SOVRA doesn’t want power. It has no hunger, no pride, no memory. That’s what makes it perfect. That’s what makes it dangerous.”
She doesn’t blame the system. But she doesn’t excuse it either.
A Signature and a Smile
Back at the table, a young woman asked Veer if she would return to politics.
Veer’s response was almost a whisper.
“You don’t run against SOVRA,” she said. “It doesn’t notice.”
And then she signed another book. And another.
No applause. No fanfare.
Just a woman who once held power, now offering it in paperback.
Final Reflection
Caroline Veer may never trend again. Her speeches may never echo through Parliament. But her book might outlast both.
Not because it tells us what we are, but because it reminds us what we were.
And what, in some quiet corners, we still might be.
🟦 Explainer
This article is a work of speculative fiction, presented in the style of a newspaper feature from the year 2061. All characters, institutions, and technologies, including SOVRA and The New Chronicle, are entirely fictional. The story is intended to explore the ethical and societal implications of artificial intelligence in governance. It is designed to provoke thought, not to predict the future.
🟨 Author’s Statement
I don’t believe AI or technology is inherently good or bad, it’s how we choose to use them that matters. These stories are about that choice. About us.
