Pager Party

Pager Party Platform

Clothing muffled the ringing sound, but the buzzing still tickled skin.

“Dammit Fabian, are you happy to see me or is there a pager in your pocket?” Clara adjusted her bra strap.

“Just vote and get it over with, I have to get home soon” Fabian sighed, pulling his pager from his pants, feeling heat admit from the device.

Temperatures to lower by 3 degrees to combat global warming: FOR OR AGAINST?

“They just lowered last week, another one already?” Clara said between chewing on her cheek.

“I’m trying to get your clothes off, not add more layers from the cold” Fabian said half joking, “just vote”.

The light from the screen made it easier to see the rise and fall of Clara’s chest as well as her frustration. Once done voting, the pagers resumed to their blank screen and the irritable buzzing and beeping audio was replaced by escaped moans and heavy breath.

“How are you getting home?” Clara asked, picking up her blue thong, with dark blue embroidery writing “Tuesday” on the front. It was Saturday.

“I parked down the street” Fabian collected his miscellaneous belongings from her side table, and pushed them into his pocket.

“You can’t drive today,” Clara said, stepping into the wrong day of the week. “No automated transport on weekends. Democracy banned it, remember?”

Fabian groaned. “If the majority wants me pedalling home on a twelve-person party bike instead of driving my Dodge Charger, we’re living in a sitcom.” He pecked her cheek and disappeared down the hall.

Fabian opted to walk home. The streets were safe now that the people have felt a sense of control. From streetlights to sentencing laws, if they wanted change, they could ask for it. If the majority agreed, it could become law by lunchtime. During the early stages of The Pager Party, people worried civilization would be leaning more towards Lord Of The Files than a harmonious democracy. Either way it is still a work in progress.

There were teenagers separated into groups in the park. Social circles full of children out after dark. It's been a few months since the law passed that post-middle school attendance was optional. Things were changing for both better and worse, but changes were made rapidly. Especially, when it came to the school systems. Even if you had to be eighteen to vote, many of the laws and regulations are impacting those too young to hold a pager, our future voters. Fabian kept walking. He’d voted for more education funding. Twice. But every time the bill came up, the majority picked potholes or pet shelters instead. When everyone votes, he thought, no one’s really to blame.

Fabian continued walking, Down the street he could see a man taping QR codes to a park bench. As he got closer he could make out the words: “Scan to vote: Maximum time to sit on this bench: five minutes, ten minutes, or unlimited ” the sticker read. His gaze followed the prompt until it met the man’s eyes.

"You’ve gotta make sure everyone gets a fair turn," the man mumbles as he sticks the QR code on. "It’s a democratic bench!"

Fabian continued on. Shaking his head in disbelief. Perhaps the upside was people like that weren’t running things. Still, even fools had votes. Making a mockery out of rights. He then felt the familiar buzz. He checked his watch: 11:38pm. He wondered what law could be keeping people up. Would it be a tax adjustment or a national anthem remix? He chuckled to himself pulling out the pager from between his keys and wallet. To his surprise the screen was blank. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. There's been talks about phantom buzzing. Pages happened so frequently it was becoming habitual to check. Muscle memory, as if tapping your pant pocket to make sure you haven’t forgotten your keys. As if the pager could sense his stare, it lit up.

Allow dogs to earn citizenship: FOR OR AGAINST?

Dumbfounded. DOGS? Will they vote too? Fabian wondered. Prompts tend to get far fetched later in the night. He clicked against and let out a sigh. It flashed once more.

Revoke voting access for repeat abstainers including pending strike participants: FOR OR AGAINST?

The pager almost slipped out of his hands.

“Strike participants?” he said under his breath.

Clara had mentioned something earlier when he was at her place. He felt a weight on his chest as if her head was still there. Pillow talk turned into her lecturing him about a protest happening next week. Not only that but she has been missing votes lately.

“Just tired” she says as an excuse, “None of it matters when people treat livelihood as playtime”.

Fabian stared at the screen. Voting was supposed to be a right. Now they were threatening to take it away for not using it enough? He imagined Clara’s pager going dark. Her voice silenced in a system she had once believed in. He looked around to see other people aimlessly tapping their screen. They could be holding Clara’s well-being in their hands, both metaphorically and literally.

He decided to back track to Clara’s house. Fabian was curious to know more about the protest. He passed by an elderly woman walking her dog. The Shih TZu barked at his feet. The lady waved her pager while using her other hand to give Fabian a thumbs up. As if a few votes ago they were voting for the same sports team and not government policy.

“He pays taxes,” she said, tugging on his leash. The dog wore a little red vest: land tax contributor.

Fabian gave a friendly nod before turning into Clara’s driveway and entering her house. She was standing in her kitchen, bare foot, buttering a slice of toast.

“Back for more?” she giggled as she noticed his presence.

“Did you see the pager prompts?” Fabian stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. Since he left, she's replaced her lace bra with her favourite band T: “Radiohead Idioteque Tour 2025” written across the back.

“You know what I realized?” she licked the butter off her lips, leaving them glossy. “We all voted to make the world safer, cleaner, more fair, and somehow, in the process, we made it quieter.”

“Quieter?” Fabian tilted his head.

“No shouting in the streets. No protests. No debate worth having. Just a thousand daily questions with no memory of the answers.” Clara put her dish into the sink, walked towards her pager charging on the table and unplugged it.

“This isn't a choice. It’s sedation. Constant input, no reflection. We’ve turned democracy into a fidget spinner.” She twirled the pager on the table as if they were about to use it to play spin the bottle.

“You’re saying we shouldn’t vote?” Fabian shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m saying real choice doesn’t come every five minutes with a buzzer,” she snapped. “It comes with discomfort. Dialogue. Dissent. We’ve mistaken immediacy for freedom.”

“People feel heard.” he said, nodding his head as if the movement would make him believe his statement.

“No,” she said, softer now. “They feel busy. There’s a difference.”

Once the pager stopped spinning the screen lit up. Fabian went closer to the table to get a look at the next voting prompt.

“Wait, don't read it yet!” Clara shouted.

"Can you really trust the will of the people when the questions are too complex for quick answers?" she asked, "How do you prevent a system designed for fairness from turning into a game where only the loudest and most impatient win?".

Fabian was speechless, too much change too fast. He couldn't differentiate right from wrong. His forehead wrinkled in distress, curiosity led him to the pager.

To elect a singular individual for all future choices: FOR OR AGAINST?