Page 27 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)
SELENE
T here’s an uncomfortable warmth in my chest, and it has nothing to do with the lights flooding the stage, illuminating my entire body and highlighting the expensive fabric of my pantsuit, and everything to do with Cal’s words ringing in my head.
As I deliver my speech, they play in the back of my mind, sparking questions about how he knew I needed to be reminded to think of myself in this moment.
All day I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts of who wouldn’t be here and why—my sisters had to work, my daddy doesn’t like to fly, my mama hates to travel without him, and Aubrey…
well, Aubrey’s not here because he’s an asshole who decided the clause about attending events and showing up for each other only applies to me.
I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to share space or spotlight with him, but I’m annoyed by his absence and the double standard it represents.
Of course, I didn’t bother to communicate any of that to him and Jordan before their flight to Atlanta to meet with Cordelia Barnes, a Georgia Senator who’s best known for losing the Republican nomination to President Lucas Sanders in the last election.
I also didn’t bother to ask what business Aubrey could possibly have with the woman whose every belief flies in the face of his because I knew he wouldn’t bother to explain.
Instead, I channeled all of my energy into last-minute preparation for the launch, and now I’m here, in this glorious moment, and it’s everything I hoped it would be.
There are hundreds of people in this room—my employees, peers, members of the press, and of course some naysayers—and they’re all hanging on my every word, listening as I take six years of hard work and condense it into small, manageable selling points that will hopefully result in the purchase and implementation of SafeSight everywhere.
Clicking a button on the small remote in my hand to change the slide, I pause at the podium I’ve barely used and take a sip of water.
It’s a strategic move. One that allows me to get my bearings as I prepare to wrap things up and leaves the audience with no choice but to look at the array of Black and brown faces frozen in time for mugshots by police departments all over the world.
The room is so quiet that the sound of me setting my glass down sends an echo through it.
I back away from the podium, splitting a severe, challenging gaze over the faces in the crowd.
Some of them shift uncomfortably under the weight of it, relieved when I turn my attention back to the screen.
“This is the data set our competitors use to train their facial recognition software.” I sweep my arm through the air, gesturing grandly at the visual representation of the infuriating fact before continuing.
“Mugshots. Photos taken at the lowest point of a person’s life and then fed, without their permission, into an algorithm that will spit them back out as a viable match, whether they meet all the criteria or not.
Think about the implications of that for a second.
A biased dataset where Black and brown faces are overrepresented, an algorithm that refuses to acknowledge error and provides a match that is then used to generate warrants and lead to arrests that sometimes turn fatal. ”
I purse my lips, shaking my head as I think about a case where that exact thing happened almost a decade ago. The tragedy prompted me to write the source code for this software.
“As our global dependency on technology grows, we must remain cognizant of its limitations and imperfections. We must acknowledge the human element of its creation that leaves it open to fallacy and do everything we can to decrease the possibility of lethal mistakes.” Another press of the button shifts to the next slide, this one displaying hundreds of tiny squares filled with the smiling faces of people of all shades, shapes, and walks of life.
“This is just a small sampling of the ethically obtained photos Smart Sight was trained on. As you can see, we prioritized equal representation across the board to create the largest and most diverse dataset in the world, and the only one composed entirely of photos and videos taken with the subject’s express consent.
This is the future of facial recognition software.
” I click the button one last time, and the photos move away, shifting to make room for the logo the marketing team spent months conceptualizing.
I hold my arms out wide, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I say, “ This is Smart Sight.”
The room erupts into thunderous applause, and I expel a harsh breath, turning my head to share a triumphant smile with Monique.
She beams at me from her spot in the wings, and behind her, there’s Cal.
His expression is severe, features trained into a hard mask of indifference, but his eyes?
They shine with approval and a secret pride that sets off sparks of pleasure inside of me.
They explode quietly, melting into a pool of liquid warmth that trickles down my spine and makes me forget myself for just a moment.
Monique’s brows furrow with confusion when the applause dies down, and I’m still looking in her direction.
“Q we need mental health professionals and a comprehensive network of support for those at risk of committing these horrific acts. ”
It’s as close as I’ve ever come to publicly discussing my First Lady initiative, and I have to force myself to stop there because it’s not supposed to be widely known until after the election.
Hughes, along with every other reporter in the room, is writing down what little I have said, and I know they’ll hold on to it for later, using it to speculate about what I’ll use my title for.
“If your husband wins the election, is that where you’d tell him to start?” he asks.
All of the reporters perk up, and just about every phone in the room is pulled out and pointed in my direction, the cameras set to record.
In the back of my mind, I hear Jordan’s voice reciting the clause that prohibits me from voicing political views that might oppose Aubrey’s.
It echoes like a warning that I ignore because I know we are united on this front.