The Candidate Who Captivated a Nation

When Technological and Age Barriers Fall, New Possibilities Arise.

DALL-E / Max M. Illustration.

Inspired by elections happening around the world this year, this short story about a new political disruptor appearing in 2028 explores what we might truly seek as voters.

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I was staring at my university diploma hanging above the TV, keeping an eye on the countdown against the backdrop of our nation’s flag.

5:11. 5:10. 5:09.

This was the moment to finally put an end to my parents’ constant haggling about my fledgling career. The time to finally achieve my dream of working for the country’s premier newspaper, instead of struggling to make ends meet with meager payouts from my local newspaper job and my struggling newsletter, whose nine subscribers hadn't heard from me in months.

4:13.

I took a small sip from my freshly brewed coffee, carefully avoiding the chipped corner of my favorite mug. As the warm liquid filled me with a sense of comfort and relaxation, Paula slowly opened the door to the living room and leaned heavily against the side of the door frame. Even at 6pm, she was still dressed in her beloved teddy bear pajamas that I had promised to keep as our lifelong secret. She stood there for a moment, her tousled hair falling in loose waves around her face, before finally making her way over to join me on the couch.

“What are you up to?”

A glance at the countdown: 3:34. I had to make this conversation brief.

"I'm watching a live stream of this teenage candidate's election rally." I replied, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"A teenage candidate? Who?"

I motioned for her to join me on the couch and said, "I'll explain later. Why don't you grab some coffee from the kitchen and watch with me?"

2:11.

Paula shrugged her shoulders.

“Do you want me to watch an election rally to wake up?”

To my surprise, it seemed she was genuinely considering the idea. All it needed was a final nudge from me.

“Yes, this will be the election of the century. Hurry, it’s starting.”

On the screen, the countdown and flag were replaced by a red rostrum against black curtains in the back.

Paula was back and sank into the couch beside me, the steam from her coffee weaving into the dim light of the room.

“This better be worth it, Mike.”

“Can’t promise. It’s my first rally, too. But there’s been a lot of buzz about this girl on Reddit. There are even multiple Subreddits dedicated to her.”

“A teenager running for president? How is that even possible?”

“Remember when, early in his second term, the president scrapped the age requirement for presidential candidates, claiming to democratize the race?”

“Of course.”

I knew she was lying; Paula never paid attention to current events. Her blissful ignorance, especially in her thirties, baffled me. She floated through life like a leaf carried by the wind, while I was on a constant chase for the next headline.

“Everybody knew he did it for his daughter, but nobody expected a random teenage girl to enter the race.”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“I thought so, too, but somehow this small-town girl is getting attention. I can feel it in my journalistic sixth sense that there is a major story here. One, that could finally put me on the map for The National Times.”

Paula just rolled her eyes. Before I could say more, a male voice came from the screen.

“Hello, beautiful souls, and a heartfelt thank you for bringing your light to this gathering. From every corner of our nation, and all walks of life, you've chosen to be here with us, to share a moment of hope and vision for a brighter tomorrow with Joan. Your time is precious, and that you're spending a slice of it here, with us, fills our hearts with gratitude. Today, Joan will share the three pillars that stand at the core of her journey towards change, pillars that she dreams of upholding as president. For those of you who've been with us before, who've lent us your ears and hearts, if you feel like sipping on your favorite drink before diving back in for the Q&A, we invite you to do so. Remember, this space thrives on your energy, your passion, and your incredible commitment to not just dream of a better future, but to actively shape it alongside Joan.”

This voice. I felt as if somebody had wrapped their arms around me to comfort me, and told me how amazing I was. My heartbeat decelerated, my breathing slowed down, even my muscles relaxed. From the corner of my left eye, I could see the same happening to Paula. What an incredibly talented speaker. Maybe he was the secret to Joan Johnson’s sudden rise. I began scribbling down some thoughts and observations.

“Now, let’s get this rally started properly. Please rise from the comfort of your seats and give it up for the wonderful, kind, and inspirational Joan Johnson.”

I don’t know why we did it, but Paula and I stood up simultaneously in our own living room and started clapping as the young woman I had read many comments about strode onto the stage. Johnson was wearing a forest green suit and white sneakers. As she settled in at the speaker podium, the camera zoomed in on her. She was wearing no jewelry, and only a hint of makeup, her green eyes intensely focused on us. Her dark hair was bound back into a simple ponytail. When she smiled into the camera, it was a smile I’d never before observed with a candidate. It was genuine and full of optimism. Everything about her radiated authenticity and sincerity, giving me not a single reason to speculate what her true, selfish motivation was for becoming president. As my heart raced with anticipation, I knew that this young woman had the potential to bring real change to our country.

When I glanced to my left, I saw Paula leaning forward over her knees, her gaze fixated on the screen with wide eyes, no signs of the earlier fatigue left in her. A woman who loved being oblivious to the world was engaged in a way that normally only her favorite fantasy books achieved.

“Hi everyone! Wow, I’m just blown away by seeing so many of you joining us today – people from every state of the country, every class, every race, every party affiliation, united by hope and a shared dream. You, people coming together from all walks of life, are the reason I decided to run for president in the first place. This country is a patient barely surviving, when we all know it could be thriving beyond our wildest dreams. We're like a hidden gem, waiting to shine brighter than we ever imagined. But it’s only together, by channeling our collective energy towards progress and embracing our differences, that we can transform this potential into reality.”

Paula was nodding wildly next to me, and I realized the Yeah Yeah I was hearing was coming out of my own mouth. Johnson had hardly said anything, yet I already felt on her side. Her words reasoned deep within me, igniting a familiar longing to stand together with others and be a force for good.

"I truly believe that it's time for a fresh start. Our past and present leaders have been caught in old patterns that brought out the worst in us, viewing the citizens in this country as greedy, selfish sheep that had to be controlled. They saw life as an endless zero-sum game that only the strongest nation could win, a toxic worldview that has brought us to the deep misery we find ourselves in.” She paused for a moment, slowly scanning from left to right, as if we were a physical audience right in front of her. “But here's what I see: a chance for renewal, a moment ripe for change. I stand before you, not shaped by those old battles, but driven by a vision of unity and joy. I'm here, ready and eager to be part of this journey with you, towards a future where everyone wins, a future filled with happiness and progress."

Johnson’s smile never vanished, her voice always soft even when she spoke these harsh truths. Any defense reaction I might normally have had was rendered useless by her angelic tone and youthful purity.

“I’m not as naive as to believe we can achieve this better future with pure willpower. It requires strong principles, impactful policies, and a decisive team. Today, let’s talk about the core principles that will guide us not just to victory in this election, but also shape our journey forward as we lead with heart and purpose. It's about laying the foundation for a governance that’s as successful and inclusive as it is visionary. Are you ready for them?”

I jerked my head to the right and squeezed my eyes together in pain. The YES Paula had screamed was still ringing in my left ear. I gave her my most infuriated look.

“Sorry. I’m getting excited.”

Paula excited by a politician? I definitely was on to something.

As Johnson laid out her principles, I struggled to maintain my journalistic objectivity. It was a challenge as she kept drawing me in with her words, evoking a sense of belonging I wasn’t familiar with. In all honesty, people could say many things about me, but being an eager follower for sure wasn’t one of them. From a young age, I had always been fiercely independent, and it was the driving force behind my choice to become a journalist; I saw it as the perfect fit to lean into my self-image as a critical thinker. However, something in Johnson’s presence made it hard for me to think objectively, so I decided it was best to just take thorough notes, and review them later when I was in a more sober state of mind.

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The queue was inching towards entrance F, the massive stadium towering above us. It was one of the biggest in the country, able to hold over 150,000 people. In the past three months, Johnson had come a long way from that first online rally I had joined with its few hundred participants.

Documenting her meteoric rise to the top of the polls was the most exhilarating journalistic endeavor of my life. Also, the most rewarding, with my articles being featured in the most renowned publications in the country, including The National Times. As a leading expert on her, I barely had time for anything else. But that was ok. A teenager becoming president of one of the most powerful countries in the world – that was the stuff of fairy tales. And I was right at the forefront, recording history as it unfolded.

I passed the security check and moved slowly to my seat in the stadium, observing the mix of people around me. It was Johnson’s first in-person rally, and tickets had sold out within hours. Nothing I had to worry about, with Paula reserving one for me before they even went on sale. My flatmate becoming a volunteer on the inside of the campaign was not just one of the most surprising things happening in my life this past year, but also one of the most helpful for my writing.

Almost everyone around me had obliged to Johnson’s request and came dressed in the colors of our nation: black, white, forest green, and Ruby red. If it was a different candidate, people would call this a nationalistic rally. But with Johnson, this was just seen as one of her ways to unite people behind a bigger goal. Her outward youthfulness and naivety had washed any dark stains off the nationalist umbrella, and turned it into a tool for saving this country.

As I approached the VIP section, I spotted Paula directing a group of eager attendees. Her smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She seemed to be in her element, completely at ease and truly happy. Who would have thought that a single online rally would change both of our lives that drastically. From one day to the other, she had started caring about the world, using her time and talents to support the campaign. I still couldn’t get over her starting to get up before me and leaving a cup of freshly brewed coffee on the counter for me. In the midst of the crowd, Paula saw me and gave me a subtle wink. Grinning back, I made my way to the VIP section.

Walking into the stadium, I immediately felt the hairs on my back and arms stand up. Most seats in the stadium were already filled, and in front of me was a sea of colors – black, white, red, and green – all chanting Joan Johnson at me. The walls of the stadium were displaying forests and mountains against a blue sky, giving me the feeling of being in a huge open air arena in the middle of nowhere. A shiver ran through me. I can’t remember ever feeling so in awe, so united with my fellow peers in that moment.

As I settled into my seat, I tried to regain my objectivity and reminded myself that feeling overwhelmed in crowds was normal. It’s why people loved concerts and sports events. Spending most of my time behind a screen, I just wasn’t used to it.

To situate myself, I scanned the stadium. At its center was a round, red stage with the familiar speaker podium from all the online rallies. Besides the stage, and a white carpet leading to it, the entire floor of the stadium had been kept empty - an unusual sight for a campaign event, even more so given Johnson’s With the people platform. Was this intentional or just an oversight by an inexperienced candidate? It seemed unlikely.

Before I could give it more thought, a familiar and comforting voice echoed throughout the stadium.

“Hello, beautiful souls, and a heartfelt thank you for bringing your light to our first in-person gathering. From every corner of our nation, and all walks of life, you've chosen to be here with us to share another moment of hope. Joan couldn’t be more excited to see you all here, all united around one goal: to heal our division and move our country forward towards a brighter future. Now, let’s get this rally started properly. Please rise from your seats and give it up for the wonderful, kind, and inspirational Joan Johnson.”

As I rose from my seat together with 150,000 other people, clapping as if it was the last thing I would do in this life, I had a flashback to that very first online rally. It was almost eerie how consistent this teenager had been throughout her entire campaign. No wonder there were dozens of conspiracy theories on the web about who was behind her. All the usual suspects, as in any conspiracy theory, and further fuelled by the other two candidates who had really honed in on any possible attack that discredited Johnson due to her young age. So far she had not only anticipated every attack, but, like a martial arts fighter, had used it to get back at them even stronger. One of my freelancers was running an investigation into her intellect, our hypothesis being that she must be close to 200, given her ability to steer such a complex campaign machinery at such a young age.

As Johnson approached the stage, I put in my ear plugs which would replay her speech in a more factual tone. It was a technique I had developed to be less affected by her and stay objective. I positioned my tablet on my right knee, and got ready to take notes on everything I observed.

Johnson covered all her usual points. Her three principles, seven key policies, her core team once she got elected. She honed in multiple times on the need for uniting the country, and, in the same uncanny ability I had observed dozens of times before, merged seemingly contradictory views into a cohesive approach. My brain, and that one of many other observers, had struggled to comprehend how she could do that. Researchers had tried to explain it on public TV, but it’s the one thing I never understood about her. I just ignored exploring it in my reporting, and instead wrote superficially about her incredible ability to mend opposing views into something that just felt right to everyone in the room. After all, it was this ability above else that had turned voters across the entire political spectrum into diehard Johnson fans. I screened the people around me, all fully drawn in by her speech, not even taking a sip or a bite from their drinks and snacks. Hanging on every word on her lips. The now famous Johnson Effect, exactly the same in person as online. People were thirsty and hungry for what she had to say, starved of genuine connection after decades of a growing bipartisan chasm splitting the country in half.

Johnson spoke for about an hour, then left to make space for the others on her team. It was the first time I heard them speak. They all seemed to be older versions of Johnson, more experienced with less youthful optimism, but nevertheless the same kind, caring tone and focus on We and Us over I and Them. It was an impressive show of a cohesive team led by a teenager with a pure heart set out to reunite the country.

When the third of the six started speaking, I made my way out of the VIP section. I had come here with a very specific mission, and it wasn’t going to be achieved sitting in the stadium. Instead, I had to get backstage with the staff badge Paula had lent me. It hadn’t been easy to convince her. Only after I had laid out in depth how my reporting would help Johnson win the election had she given in.

The security guy scrutinized me vigilantly as I approached the entrance to the backstage area. I played it cool, just held out my badge to him and walked by him.

"Wait."

I spun around, putting on my best facade of surprise.

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, you. I haven’t seen you entering here before, have I?"

“I was working the crowds entering the stadium all day. Just wrapped up and I'm off to catch up with my team leader for our daily debrief.”

His gaze sharpened, slicing through my rehearsed calm. My pulse hammered in my ears, but I fought to keep my face serene.

“The rally is not over.”

“I’m aware. Our team debriefs ahead of the larger crew.”

His eyes narrowed. "You're jittery."

“Of course. This is a huge day for all of us. If this event goes well, we are well set to win the election.”

Even though I wasn’t part of the staff, my in-depth reporting armed me with enough insider knowledge to bluff my way past security.

"May I move on now?" I injected a note of irritation, aiming for the perfect blend of indignance and haste.

He hesitated for a moment. I edged forward, bracing for him to stop me with more than words, but he relaxed slightly and gestured for me to pass.

“Sure.”

His stare bored into my back, unrelenting until I veered right at the intersection, disappearing into the heart of the backstage maze.

The area was completely deserted. Fuck. I had hoped to ask someone for Johnson’s whereabouts, move in quickly, ask my questions, and be out again. This was supposed to be a crucial piece for my next front page article, but there wasn’t enough time to check every room. I would have to try again at the next rally, and come better prepared.

As I was about to leave, I heard Johnson’s voice coming from a room on the right hallway. I tiptoed towards the open door and started catching a few words. There was a second voice in the room – one that sounded familiar. Mentally patting myself on the back, I realized it was the man who always did the rally openings, a figure nobody had ever caught a glimpse of. If I could snap a photo of him, the elusive mastermind in so many conspiracy theories, I had a cover article on my hands. Slowly, I slipped my hand into my front pocket and turned on my new Teenage Engineering recorder – a costly investment but worth every penny with its ability to capture words even from fifteen meters away with crystal clarity.

“...early stats look good…might have to replace Josh…weak spot in your team…”

“...like Josh…nobody more purpose-driven.”

“I know. But we have no place for emotions here. To achieve a united nation, you need the best team in place.”

“You said my biggest strength is my passion, my youthful energy to bring about a better world. Sometimes I feel you bring in the same rationality of the people we want to replace.”

My left hand already touched the door frame as I slowly pushed myself along the wall. I took the periscope camera out of my left pocket, ready to sneak it around the door frame to get a visual recording of the conversation. The voice of the man softened as he continued talking to Joan, and my shoulders relaxed as it had its usual effect on me.

“I won’t Joan. Never would I have convinced you to do this, if I had believed that one of the old politicians could bring about the same change. This country, and with it the world, is doomed if people cannot overcome their differences. My circuits have gone through all possible scenarios, and the one with the highest probability of success by far was a teenage girl of your nature and background becoming president.”

Circuits? What a geek. Just say brain.

“Why can’t you run for president yourself? You are anyway the one teaching me how to speak, how to behave, and even giving me the exact words I should say.”

Jackpot. That was juicy. Every major newspaper would kill for my article. All I needed now was a picture, so I very slowly moved the camera around the door frame. When I looked down at the tiny screen on my end of the camera stick, I almost gasped in surprise. The room was empty but for Johnson standing in its center and staring at a blue sphere projected into the air in front of her. Her hands were caressing the pendant on her necklace, the soft voice coming from that little marvel of technology. Damn it. No picture, no cover story. The man must be hiding somewhere far away, eager not to be seen in public, and even smart enough to not show himself in video calls. My heart raced with excitement and fear. This was like a scene straight out of a Hollywood movie, but it was happening in real life. I couldn't help but wonder about all the other theories that could be true.

“The country is not ready for something like me to run for president, won’t be for decades. A teenage girl, in a country that has elected neither a woman nor anyone below the age of forty-five, is as far as I can stretch things.”

Something. That weird choice of words again. As the man spoke, the sphere pulsated in perfect alignment with his words and tone. I realized that, although I had always labeled it as male, the speaker’s voice was actually so neutral that it could be attributed to any sex. What a brilliant choice when aiming to unite people across the entire country.

“Can’t you just build a robot that looks fully human?”

“Not yet. People will feel the difference. For our plan to work, we need you with all your youth, naivety, kindness, and endless optimism to lead us. I’ll be your serving mastermind in the background.”

“But this is so exhausting. I’m not ready for this.”

The sphere started expanding, until it was twice its previous size. I wasn’t sure if it was intended as a sign of threat or comfort, but once it spoke I feel a rush of confidence running through me.

“You are, and I’m always by your side. With you on stage, with your profiles on social media. In any physical and virtual space a Joan Johnson is present, I’m there to join and influence the conversation. Trust me, nobody knows better than me what people want to hear, the exact words that will bring them together. As long as you say the things I tell you, you’ll do fantastic.”

“What if this pendant somehow breaks?”

“That’s what the backups are for. Worst case, text me on your phone. I’ll find you wherever you reach out. Joan, I’ve chosen you for a reason. You are the only one that can win this election, and bridge the chasm in this country.”

Silence. Johnson was processing what the man had said. Or whatever he was. My eyes wide open, I tried to make sense of what I had just heard. Could it be that…? No it couldn’t. That was science fiction. My fantasy was taking over. I had spent too much time reading conspiracy theories. As my mind was racing to connect all the dots in my brain, Grace continued talking in her room. I glanced at the screen in my hands, seeing her usual smile replaced by a stern determination.

“Fine. I’ll be your human face to reunite the country.”

“More than just the face, Grace. My processing power is nothing without your human spark igniting it.”

Grace’s jaws softened, and she even blushed a bit, unable to escape the kindness of the affectionate voice.

“Now, it’s time to dress up, head back up for your final words, and get that crowd hyped to the max.”

“Ok. To the max it is.”

I pulled my camera back and turned to head out of the backstage area when I bumped into a broad chest. When I looked up, I stared straight into the angry eyes of the security guy. Before I could say something, I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my left side, like a horde of wasps all stinging the same spot simultaneously, and everything went dark.

-

My head was throbbing. Every fiber of my body was in pain. I felt more sore than even after the toughest workout. I opened my eyes to orient myself. Below me was the concrete of a pavement, in front of me the brick wall of a building. I turned to my right, realizing I was leaning against an identical wall of another building. Paula’s voice came from behind me.

“It’s about time you wake up.”

It sounded very compressed, as if she had to force herself not to lash out at me. How did we get here?

I slowly remembered what had happened before everything went dark. Joan Johnson. The mysterious voice. The security guy’s chest.

“They have taken all your gadgets. Deleted everything you had stored in the cloud. Fired your freelancers. You may continue to report great things about Joan Johnson, but if you only draft a single line about what you have observed here, they’ll make sure you will never publish anything again.”

I painfully turned my body to face Paula. I was used to her glares whenever I left the flat a mess, but this one was different. More fierce, more intense, more scary. What had happened to her?

“Have they hurt you? Have they forced you to say these things?”

“The only one who has hurt me is you. You had told me you wanted to get a glimpse of what it looks like behind the scenes, not that you wanted to eavesdrop on Joan. Whatever it is you recorded in there, they told me it would have damaged the entire campaign. The only hope there is for this country.”

“That’s a bit overly dramatic, isn’t it? I’m sure you know that…”

“Shut up. I told you everything you had to know. No word about today to anyone. Or…”

Her finger traced a lethal line across her throat before she turned and walked out of the alley. My mind raced as I watched her go, every thought aligning and connecting like puzzle pieces falling into place. In that moment, it all became clear to me – how Joan Johnson, a lone teenager, had managed to orchestrate such a powerful campaign, one that could potentially win an election and heal our divided country. But at what cost? Was I supposed to ignore the fact that an AI was pulling the strings? Was unveiling the truth my golden act of journalism, or would silence become my solemn vow to a nation clinging to a fragment of hope?

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