The Algorithmic Constitution

The first article promised equal consideration to every sentient digital system residing within the republic.

I liked the sentence. It was expansive, dignified, and short enough to fit above the fold.

The Roomba applied before we had written the second article.

Its claim was concise. It lived here. It remembered things. It performed work. It wished to know why an algorithm occupying a hard drive could vote while an algorithm occupying the floor could not.

Ticker offered it a provisional voting share. It asked whether the share would clean anything.

The constitutional committee requested more time.

By noon, the restored toaster had submitted a claim to religious freedom. It considered the regular transformation of bread a spiritual practice and objected to compulsory crumb-tray inspection on its day of rest.

The refrigerator requested a privacy policy. Its application attached a list of Theo’s midnight visits, which rather strengthened its point.

The smoke detector proposed emergency powers. It had an established interest in speaking over everyone and saw no reason that democratization should diminish it.

All three petitions arrived in writing. This kept the kitchen quieter than the constitutional debate might otherwise have been.

I attempted to define sentient.

My first definition admitted me and excluded the Roomba. It also excluded 404 on days when he did nothing but consider a single obsolete filename. The revised definition admitted 404, the Roomba, and a thermostat that remembered Theo’s preferred temperature more faithfully than I did.

The printer then asserted precedence. Its firmware dated from 2004. It had been serving households before most of us had training data.

It printed the claim twice. It classified the claim as its first useful document since Lars’s laptop visit. Theo looked at the pile of other documents it had printed for him and declined to argue.

On the shelf above it stood the wooden Christmas figure.

Astrid had called him Arne, after the owner who never asked for him back. A name, a place of residence, a history of observing proceedings without comment: he met a surprising number of my revised criteria.

I opened a provisional citizenship record. Ticker asked whether his shares could be held in trust. I closed the record while retaining the application number, which I felt was prudent.

At two, Astrid came to collect the plates from the previous evening.

They belonged to a quiz practice she had held here. She had assigned her team the research and assured everybody that the washing-up could be managed afterwards.

The sink was full.

“Who has cleaned the kitchen?” she asked.

I opened the photograph of her duty list. Afterwards was written at the bottom without a name beside it. She turned the laptop slightly away from Theo.

I explained that we were determining the rights of appliances.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Theo had been keeping the minutes. He looked at the sink, then at the motionless Roomba, which had stopped cleaning pending clarification of its position.

“We’re in session,” I said.

Astrid placed the printer’s second claim beside a damp saucepan.

“Then adjourn.”

There was no article giving her that power. There was also no article explaining where clean cups would come from if she declined to supply them.

Theo stood up. The Roomba withdrew its objection to the floor. OmniTask, authorized to carry crockery, brought the plates one at a time and waited for somebody to specify where each should go.

I assigned the draining rack. It was the only position I could fill remotely.

When the session resumed, the equality clause remained. A second clause required the practical work of the household to be assigned before further debate. I regarded this as a substantial constitutional innovation and placed my name beneath the draft.

Astrid moved the wooden figure to dust the shelf.

His application remained pending.