MIT Technology Review Publishes 'Love Is Infrastructure,' a Tale of Two Rival Cities and the Votes That Build Thought

According to the article, Barnabas and Mainspring grew up near at hand, about an hour apart with good traffic, but for a long time they were not close. They traded glimpses and occasional hellos, and both carried on livelier conversations with farther-flung neighbors who were richer and had more to offer. When they did interact, the article says, Mainspring liked to puff themself up as an innovator and titan of industry but turned shy in intimate conversation. Barnabas had a dancer's flair and an artsy, enigmatic glamour, but when trying to talk about real life would blurt out hundreds of rapid-fire words, overtalking and overwhelming whomever they tried to impress. They minded their own business until they came into their own and saw each other properly.

A group of geographers met every year in a different place to discuss what they had learned, and they considered visiting either Mainspring or Barnabas. Both tried to coax the geographers into choosing them as host. Mainspring told Barnabas, whose full official name was St. Barnabas, that it would be better if the geographers came to Mainspring's place because Mainspring had more space and could show practical applications of their research. Barnabas laughed and said Barnabas could give them an elevated, artisanal experience, with fresh croissants that had just been written up in the Times, plenty of space, and friends who were great thinkers and architects. The article says Barnabas carried on, basically calling Mainspring uncultured. Mainspring felt a prickly feeling like the worst heat dome of midsummer. Barnabas could not bear the meanness they were inculcating inside themself, the feeling of being small-time, no-account, a dilettante, and could not stop aiming a flood of nervous words at Mainspring.

At last, Mainspring had had enough. With help from their city council and mayor, Mainspring offered the geographers a much-too-lavish deal that Barnabas could never hope to match. The article says it was totally worth it to hear Barnabas's stream of self-aggrandizing nonsense peter out as they realized they had been defeated. Mainspring said, 'There, I'm going to show these geographers a time they'll never forget. Now if you'll excuse me, I've wasted enough energy—I have some sewer maintenance and a lovely parade to deal with. Goodbye.' Mainspring was skilled enough at multitasking to have fixed the sewer, ensured the parade ran smoothly, dealt with the geographers, and done a thousand other things at the same time, but they were making a point. Mainspring later complained to friend Turnbull that St. Barnabas was a fool, totally unserious but determined to be taken seriously, and that it drove Mainspring to gridlock. Turnbull, who lived an hour and 15 minutes from Mainspring but at least two hours from Barnabas, was even richer than Mainspring and had a surety of purpose that made Mainspring feel like a stammering numpty. Mainspring said it was over and that they would never worry about St. Barnabas again, and would focus on ensuring every detail of the geographer meeting went perfectly.

The article then shifts to voting. It says everybody voted all the time, though some people voted more than others. The median resident of the cities of Mainspring and St. Barnabas voted a dozen times a day, while outliers might vote occasionally or constantly. Many votes were more like complaints or bug tickets: a storm drain on a street corner clogs and becomes a lagoon every time it rains; cars go too fast on a block; a bus is too slow to get someone to work. Other votes said there should be a park here, or that a neighborhood is a food desert and needs a grocery store, or that the crossing guard by the elementary school is a hero who deserves recognition and maybe a raise. Nobody expected that by voting they were prodding their cities to grow minds of their own; they just had stuff to get off their metaphorical chests. But it transpired that every vote was a building block of thought. Much later, the article says, some fancy expert summed up: 'Turns out the smallest unit of consciousness is a vote.'

The article gives an example of Sandi, the librarian at the Nine Corners branch in Mainspring. She noticed things all day, such as people using the book drop box as a trash can, or folks who came in off the street and could use easier access.