The Measure(38)

Anthony Rollins was primed. He ignored the bulk of the question and dove straight into the speech he had clearly rehearsed.

“The presidency is the highest office in our land, and whoever is elected is expected to serve his or her country for four full years, and perhaps even eight full years. Running for president is a promise to the people of this great nation that you are willing and able to commit yourself for your full term, and perhaps even two terms, in the Oval Office. That is why I humbly submit to you the people—alongside my tax returns and my Twitter history—something even more important. My string.”

With this, Anthony took out a small box from behind his podium, opened its lid, and held up a string that everyone, by now, could quickly recognize as one of considerable length.

“Should I have the honor of becoming your candidate, I assure you that I will serve for as long as you’ll have me. And I ask that my fellow candidates, in the spirit of transparency, present their own strings, so the voters can head to the polls armed with as much information as possible about the person who may lead our country for years to come.”

The audience didn’t quite know how to react. While most clapped and nodded in agreement, several boos and heckles rose above the applause.

“All right, all right.” The moderator calmed the crowd. “Let’s hear what the other candidates have to say.”

“I made the decision, along with my spouse, that neither of us would look at our strings,” said Dr. Amelia Parkins, a Harvard professor of political science running as the Washington outsider. “I believe it is an entirely personal choice whether or not to look, and asking candidates to share something so private seems unjust and unethical, not to mention un-American. Congressman Rollins’s request feels more in line with the authoritarian regimes mentioned earlier.”

“Thank you, Dr. Parkins,” said the moderator. “Governor Russ, any thoughts?”

“I believe that what Miss Parkins fails to comprehend is that to be an effective and trustworthy public servant, you need to accept that most of your private life will become public,” the governor said. “Certainly that’s true of the presidency. Even if candidates refuse to show their strings, you can bet the tabloids will go digging anyway. And I can already see the headline: ‘Country Elects President Who Will Die in Office.’”

In keeping with her reputation as the “family values” candidate, Kentucky congresswoman Alice Harper added, “I would like to think that any candidate who had the misfortune of having a short string would withdraw from the race to spend their remaining time with loved ones, and not on the road campaigning for a job that they wouldn’t be able to keep for long anyway.”

While the other candidates spoke, Senator Wes Johnson, Sr., was thinking.

He was the only African American onstage, and he must have known that his words would be doubly scrutinized, Hank thought. Johnson waited until the others had each said their piece, and the moderator asked if he had anything to add.

“Yes, I do,” Johnson said. “The American people should elect the person whose values they agree with, whose positions they support, and whose proposals they believe will improve our nation. Having a short string does not erase those qualities, and choosing not to elect a qualified candidate simply because of their short string is akin to punishing them for something entirely out of their control. We’ve made it illegal to discriminate on the basis of race, gender, disability, and age, but forcing candidates to show their strings would be condoning an entirely new category of discrimination.”

Some scattered applause led the moderator to lean toward his microphone, but Johnson wasn’t finished.

“Some of our greatest leaders died while still in office,” he continued, “and some of our least effective politicians have been blessed with longevity. If John F. Kennedy had revealed his string, and the voters had punished him for it, the Cuban Missile Crisis might have erupted into nuclear war with the Soviets. If Franklin Roosevelt had revealed his string, and the voters had punished him for it, the Nazis may never have seen defeat. And if Abraham Lincoln had shown his string, then the men and women who look like me and my children might still be enslaved, and our country might have been torn apart for good. I shudder at the thought of what our world would look like today if those men had been denied the chance to govern simply because of the unfortunate hand they had been dealt, and I hope that my fellow Americans can see the danger in Congressman Rollins’s proposal.”

Hank breathed a sigh of relief as the audience cheered in response, and Rollins looked on blankly. It was in the final shot of Wes Johnson’s face, just before the camera moved on, that Hank could have sworn he saw the senator’s eyes shimmer with tears that he couldn’t afford to release on television.

And that’s when Hank realized that he and Wes Johnson must share the same fate.

Hank quickly lost interest in the rest of the broadcast, picking up his phone and turning instead to people’s reactions online. While many were supportive of Johnson’s stance, Rollins had ignited . . . something. Tweets and blog posts were emerging from all corners of the country calling for candidates to reveal their strings, arguing that a short-stringer couldn’t be trusted with the nation’s most important job. Short-stringers are too distracted, they said. Too anxious, too depressed, too volatile.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to move past the presidency. Maybe all political offices should require a string disclosure? they asked. And what about the CEOs of major companies? Any thoughts on medical residents? Why would a hospital want to spend time training someone who couldn’t return its investment?