written By
The paper looked and felt real, but the words on the ballot seemed anything but. Was Jake really going to vote for scrapping the oldest and most widely known constitution in the world? On his way into the voting precinct, he’d been called “asshole lawyer,” “democratic terrorist,” and “constitution killer.” Perhaps he’d taken things too far.
After all, he loved his country and its constitution. Or at least he loved the history of the document and what it symbolized; not so much what it had become. In fact, he thought that a lot of people possessed these ambivalent feelings about America nowadays.
To him, the “dead hand” problem—that today’s citizens were controlled by those from previous eras—was the biggest issue with the current setup. Although Jake had been campaigning on scrapping the document for months, now that the moment of truth was upon him, he was having doubts. Thinking back to how this campaign started (from Emma to Justice Clancy to Marcus), he couldn’t have ever imagined himself in this position.
In law school, Jake wrote a note for the Yale Law Journal on how written constitutions were failing to constrain would-be autocrats and populists, and, therefore, only making contemporary issues worse. He ultimately argued that these parchment barriers were 18th-century solutions for 21st-century problems. Bear in mind that these notes, written by students and placed near the end of journal issues, were hardly ever read by anyone. Perhaps a handful of people at most. They were primarily devices that law students used for CV enhancement, which may help get them in the door for an interview down the line. They also tended to take on marginal issues and legal minutiae that may not have been previously explored.
But Jake’s note struck a chord. It exploded, going viral many times over after a Fox News journalist tweeted it out to provide another example of how woke legal academia had become. After reading Jake’s note, however, many conservatives—and liberals for that matter—decided that they agreed with his argument. The piece drove a wedge between those on both sides of the aisle, cutting across political divides that were usually fraught with polarization.
Of course, it wasn’t any ordinary note. His research mentor was Jeffrey Clancy, a former Supreme Court Justice and one of the most well-connected people in the legal establishment. Not only had Justice Clancy interpreted the Constitution for a living for over two decades, but he’d also written three best-selling books on how to do it. In short, he epitomized the role of judicial rockstar, which seemed increasingly prevalent in many democracies. The first time Jake met Justice Clancy in his office to discuss the note, things quickly turned awkward.
“You know, I spent my career protecting and defending the Constitution, and now you’re labelling it irrelevant?” the Justice prodded him in their initial meeting.
The Justice’s well-manicured beard, thick black spectacles, and raised left eyebrow were intimidating. Jake was almost the opposite of intimidating. He was shorter than average but good-looking and approachable. His time in the gym gave him an athletic, healthy build. And intellectually, he wasn’t easily overwhelmed.
“I didn’t say irrelevant,” Jake retorted. “I said no longer useful. Of course, the Constitution is relevant. As the oldest constitution in the world, it may be the most relevant it’s ever been. But it also may no longer be useful.”
The Justice smiled at Jake’s naivety. “So, you want to destroy it!” quipped the judge.
“No, not destroy it,” answered Jake. “I want to preserve it. I want to preserve the history and majesty of the document, and not let it descend into something viewed as unworkable, unjust, or downright rotten.”
The Justice frowned and looked down. Jake was sure that he was going to ask him to leave.
With what looked like a wince, the judge changed his tune. “This sounds like fun, Jake. Sign me up!” And that was that. Jake had secured the most high-profile supervisor on the faculty.
But even after securing Justice Clancy’s sign-off, Jake still doubted his note would get published. He simply didn’t get on with either of the prominent liberal or conservative factions of students, which tended to dominate the journal’s editorial board. He was from small-town Texas, not upstate New York or Concord. He often found himself invisible in major classroom discussions over controversial topics, feeling like he agreed a bit with both sides. He also didn’t want to take the risk of being labelled “racist” or “woke,” both of which essentially labelled people rotten to the core, and were too easily thrown around in the corridors, message boards, and chat threads after each class he attended.
This wasn’t a good place to be. People who didn’t take a strong view one way or the other apparently didn’t have any views at all. Gray area nuance seemed to be undesirable in the classroom, just as it had long been spurned by journalists and on social media. And because he wasn’t aligned with either side, he expected his note to eventually get rejected by the YLJ, leaving him in a perpetual no man’s land that the middle ground often resided in.
His girlfriend at the time, Emma, encouraged him to affiliate with one side or the other. “You don’t want to get lost in the shuffle,” she used to say to him. “If you don’t have the right network, you may not land any summer jobs, let alone get your year 3 note published.” Jake knew this.
He also knew that Emma was one of the reasons that he began writing the note in the first place. After all, Emma was from Bakewell, England, one of the few countries in the world that didn’t have a written constitution (there are only three). When Emma first told Jake this, his jaw dropped. The idea of a country in the 21st century not having a written constitution seemed impossible, even reprehensible, given how widespread these devices had become around the world. But this newfound piece of knowledge only drew him closer to Emma. Jake, of course, blames her for putting the idea of constitutional scrapping in his head.
“But how do you know what to do without an operating manual?” Jake asked on their first date.
Peering around the burger joint that doubled as a pool hall, Emma replied, “We just do. We talk to each other. We figure things out.” She then added, almost flippantly, “I actually think written constitutions may be part of the problem nowadays.”
Her last words stuck in Jake’s head. It could have been his “eureka” moment. But it wasn’t really his, as Emma had said it. How many eureka moments have started this way, Jake wondered.
But it hardly mattered anymore. He and Emma ended a while back. Something cliché about wanting space and enjoying her time in the US. Nevertheless, she had a profound impact on his thinking and his motivations for writing what he did. In first year, they used to stay up late arguing about various legal issues, including the importance—or not—of written constitutions. Emma used to enjoy when Jake would go off on one, ranting for well over 30 minutes at times about how important the Constitution was to everyday life, citing cultural examples such as Hamilton and RBG.
By his third year in law school, Jake’s views had radically changed. If the UK could succeed without having a written constitution, then why couldn’t the US? This position embraced a version of the remark that Emma articulated on their first date, and which ultimately led him down this slippery slope. Thus, he not only blames Emma for ending their relationship, but also blames her for affecting him even after they separated. That’s what really stung. He tried to move on, but only felt he could do so after finishing his note. And now the finished note had grown into something beyond him. Something unstoppable and much more public than he ever wanted.
***
Justice Clancy turned out to be an excellent research mentor, but not in the way that Jake was expecting. He was appallingly bad at organizing his thoughts and in thinking about non-legal considerations, such as impacts on democracy or on wider society. He would also go on long-winded rants about archaic legal cases that seemed to have little to do with his topic. But he asked the right questions. Sometimes brutally so.
“Let me get this straight. You think dating a British woman—and relatively briefly at that—qualifies you to write this note?” asked the Justice.
Jake was taken aback. Sure, the Justice had a right to comment on his knowledge of the UK constitution, but this felt like something deeper and more cutting. Was it designed to get under his skin?
“No, sorry, Justice Clancy. I just told you about Emma because I wanted to explain how I got interested in the topic. I have done quite a bit of research on the UK constitution, however, and think that with your guidance, I can make some good comparisons between the countries.”
Justice Clancy looked annoyed. Perhaps it was the nod to “comparative” research. After all, the former judge had spent his professional career adjudicating US constitutional law, not the constitutions of other nations.
“Is a country even a country without a constitution?” asked the Justice.
“Sure,” said Jake. “At least by international law standards. The UN recognizes Israel, New Zealand, and the UK.”
“Okay, but without one, doesn’t it mean that any government can come in and change the constitution into whatever they want?”
This was fun. Jake felt in his element.
“Yes and no. In theory, any government can come in and change the law to its wishes, so long as Parliament approves it. However, in reality, it’s more complicated than that. That’s one of the things that interests me the most. Any government could be tyrannical when it takes office, changing the country in myriad of different ways. And yet this doesn’t happen, and there are even aspects of the UK constitution that have remained stable for a long while, such as the monarchy, the House of Lords, and parliamentary power.”
The research meetings went on like this, with Justice Clancy asking tough questions but not really giving much guidance. Jake often wondered how the Justice wrote his celebrated opinions and best-selling books. Is this how he was with his clerks? Did he use ghostwriters for his books?
Abigail, the Justice’s wife, was legally trained but didn’t practice. Perhaps she was his secret weapon. Jake had met her once at his office during a supervision meeting. Gorgeous. Fiery red hair. Gentle pale skin. Noticeably younger than the Justice and switched on. Abigail skimmed a copy of The Atlantic while Jake and Justice Clancy went back and forth.
The session became particularly heated. It seemed as if Justice Clancy had a chip on his shoulder that day, or may have been showing off in front of Abigail, as he was being more provocative than usual.
“Countries nowadays have constitutions,” he said, “It’s the way it is. Countries without ‘em are living in fantasy land. They may have gotten this far, but a written document is inevitable. Please tell me you agree with that?”
“I did once,” Jake remarked. “But I don’t think I do anymore.”
“You gotta be kidding me?” the Justice snipped. “After 40-plus years of studying and practicing law, do you not think I can see where the law is headed?”
“No, Sir…I just used to think the same way, but…”
“But Emma changed your mind?” interrupted the Justice.
“Hardly. She got me intrigued. That’s all. I’ve made up my own mind ever since. And as far as I know, we’re done.”
“That’s rich,” the Justice shot back, “So you’re saying that this project has nothing to do with Emma?”
What Jake didn’t know was that Emma had approached Justice Clancy with the same research topic a few weeks before Jake stepped into his office, and the Justice had declined to supervise it. Jake knew that Emma had spoken with a number of different supervisors, and that she ultimately settled on writing something about corporate law that Jake found wholly uninteresting. But he had no idea that Emma offered the same topic to Justice Clancy. Perhaps the Justice had just relented the second time round. Or perhaps Jake was his preferred supervisee.
During their final supervision meeting, after the note was written and submitted, Justice Clancy opened up slightly, talking about his time on the bench and some of his eccentric colleagues. One younger Justice had told him in confidence that “democracy was the worst form of government, period,” while one long-serving Justice got so enraged during a discussion that he threw an egg salad sandwich against a painting of John Marshall. A couple of the other senior Justices were so offended by the vulgar display against the author of Marbury v Madison that they threatened to press charges, therefore making the whole affair public. However, the painting turned out not to be permanently damaged, and the Justice that threw the sandwich paid for its restoration.
Justice Clancy also talked a lot about a Justice who had moved from academia onto the Court. This particular Justice used to tell the others that everything looked so easy when she was in the academy, teaching seminars and writing papers, and that the problems only really hit her when she was on the Court, and had to find practical solutions to some of these intractable problems.
“You know, Jake, you surprised me. I thought you’d quit this topic after a couple of weeks of tough questioning. And now here you are, with a quality piece of work.”
“Thanks, Jeff” (they were on a first-name basis by that point). “Do you think it could get published?”
“Maybe in a specialist journal. It’s too provocative to catch any of the big guns,” the Justice responded. “But that’s not the end of the world. It may inspire some further research in the area.”
That comment turned out to be a vast understatement.
“Can I ask you one more thing?” the judge enquired.
“Sure,” said Jake, “but bear in mind the piece is submitted now.”
“Do you really trust politicians more than you trust members of the Supreme Court to steer the nation in the right direction? If the Constitution is scrapped and there’s no immediate replacement, that’s what it will come to.” And with that, Justice Clancy eagerly looked at Jake for a reply. It didn’t come immediately.
“Well, I have to be honest: politicians leading us is better than the Wizard of Oz-like arrangement that we have now, where the Supreme Court calls all the shots. It’s like we’re some pantomime democracy, where the least accountable and least representative institution exercises the most extensive power.”
The Justice was silent. Introspective even.
“And I’ll tell you one more thing,” Jake continued, “that’s not the way the Framers drew it up. They didn’t want courts to be so dominant. The fact that courts are in this prominent position means that judges have engaged in one of the biggest power grabs in the history of our nation.”
***
The United States had never held a national referendum before. This was another thing that the supposedly infallible founders had left out of the Constitution of 1789 (in addition to the words “democracy,” “rule of law,” and “human rights”). Given how skeptical the authors of the Constitution were of direct democracy, it comes as no surprise. After all, the founders didn’t even trust the people enough to let them choose their own president. They preferred an electoral college that could ultimately correct mistakes made by the people. It was one of those mechanisms that was supposedly there to “protect” democracy, but which, ultimately, undermined it entirely.
Because no formal mechanism existed to initiate a referendum that could amend the Constitution, Congress passed a law for an advisory national referendum only. However, in what seemed an impossible feat, leadership in both the major parties agreed to abide by the results of the referendum, honoring the “will of the people.” Perhaps adhering to the first few words of the Constitution was the only thing that the major parties could agree upon. Thus, the high amendment thresholds (⅔ of Congress and ¾ of state legislatures) should be reached if the referendum ended up going in the direction of change.
Two camps emerged: the “Coalition for Preserving” and the “Coalition for Scrapping.” Both thought they had clear victories ahead. And they were coalitions for a reason: the major parties were so fractured on the issue that any type of party cohesion was impossible.
Many conservatives surprisingly sympathized with Jake’s argument about scrapping the Constitution to preserve it. After all, it was the most prominent and longest-lasting written constitution to date, and history would likely be kind to it if America repealed it in the near future, before things got even messier. From that perspective, it was like any other law on the books: the longer it stayed in force, the more criticism would mount. But because of its prominence, keeping it in place meant more vicious attacks on its founding, its history, and its current operation. Not to mention blame for the state of the nation: poor leaders, divided citizens, and an increasingly stagnant economy. Scrapping it would, in a sense, preserve the history and majesty of the document, ensuring that it was remembered during a time of American prosperity and worldwide economic, cultural, and military influence. But many traditional conservatives still opposed scrapping it, believing the Constitution could be redeemed and restored to prominence. They joined the Coalition for Preserving.
A large group on the left joined the Coalition for Scrapping (CfS) for the potential that it provided in terms of change. A more equal economy. An expansion of rights. More diverse and inclusive institutions. The possibilities were endless, even if virtually impossible in the current climate. But besides the prospects for change, a more general feeling of “making history” permeated the CfS camp. This resonated with Thomas Jefferson’s idea that constitutions should be scrapped and replaced every 19 years so a new generation could put their stamp on it.
Some liberals, however, very much opposed scrapping. These tended to be those in the legal establishment (lawyers, judges, legal scholars, etc) who practiced or studied law. A group of legal scholars from the American Constitution Society called scrapping the Constitution without a viable replacement “the most dangerous idea” in the history of the United States. Worse even than becoming a colony of the UK or re-instituting slavery. Jake had no idea how the group had taken it this far. He understood their concerns regarding not having a written constitution in place, and he used to share them. But there were also other considerations involved, like self-interest: if the constitution was scrapped, then the significance of law, courts, and judges might drop. Preserving the status quo for these groups, even if imperfect, may be better than confronting the great unknown.
Some factions campaigning against scrapping claimed to be liberals, but in reality, they came across as the most conservative. They seemed to embody a type of constitutional conformity only seen in cloistered international institutions: that constitutions should only take one form, that they should first value the rule of law and judicial interpretations of that, and then promote democracy and politics second. These organizations didn’t know how to explain, let alone deal with, jurisdictions that didn’t fit this mold.
One of Jake’s best friends at Yale, Marcus, had wormed his way into being the deputy leader of the Coalition for Preserving. He’d been there through Emma, through Justice Clancy, and through most of the crises that accompany law school. And he spent a good deal of time throughout these periods trying to convince Jake he was wrong.
“I understand being hung up on someone, man. I’ve been there myself many times,” Marcus admitted near the end of second year. “But don’t let it consume you. She’s just a girl.”
“Please. It’s not just about her. It’s about all of this. Just look around us. The world has more constitutions than ever. These constitutions are longer and more detailed than ever. They provide more rights than ever. We have wider enforcement from the supreme and constitutional courts than ever. And yet, our country—and the world more generally—is not in a good place. In fact, things seem to be deteriorating. We’re more polarized than ever. Studies show less faith in democracy than ever. And we have less faith in politics, politicians and political parties than ever. Is that some type of coincidence?”
Marcus didn’t know what to say.
Jake continued, “And think about the privilege of law above all else. As if those who have gone into law are somehow exceptional or superior. Do you think our law professors are any smarter or morally upstanding than our biology, psychology, or history undergraduate professors? Are lawyers more enlightened than shopkeepers, builders, or even our parents? Not a chance. And yet, judges call the shots. Not just regarding matters of life and death, the length of prison terms, or how much compensation someone should receive. As if that wasn’t enough, they also get to boss around the political realm, telling them what they can and cannot do. And just who are any of these judges accountable to? Nobody, Marcus, that’s who!”
“Okay, calm down, Jake,” Marcus urged. “I kind of miss when you used to praise the Constitution. You were great at that.”
“Times change. Some days I wish I had never met Emma.”
“But it wasn’t all bad, right? You guys had some good times. Do you remember when we met her mother, Helen?”
“Honestly, I’ve been trying my best to forget that.”
“She absolutely adored you. Didn’t she even call you ‘Jakey’ at one point?”
Jake was silent, as if he didn’t hear the question.
“I still can’t believe that Emma had scholarship offers from Oxford and Cambridge, and chose to come spend god knows how much money on an American law degree.”
This was true. After graduating with a first-class degree in Biomedical Sciences from the University of Liverpool, Emma had a variety of options coming out of university. Two of those were fully funded PhDs at Oxford and Cambridge, but those were not the only offers. University College London, Manchester, and Edinburgh had also offered scholarships. The biomedical sciences degree also made sense, as her father had done the same degree at Liverpool and went on to become a highly paid consultant in the National Health Service (NHS). Tragically, however, Emma’s father had died in a biking accident during her first year in secondary school. Emma always said he was the best father in the world, but she never really said much more about him, and Jake and Marcus never pushed the issue.
“Can we not talk about how great Emma and her mother were, please?”
“Yes, sorry, bro. You know me. Always trying to reminisce. But some moments in life are worth remembering, right? Even if they hurt a little.”
***
The referendum campaign was in full swing. Jake, having written the piece that started a national conversation and then led to the first national referendum in American history, was a wanted figure for media interviews and panels on what had been deemed “the most important vote in American history.”
But two weeks before voting day, Jake was blindsided in primetime. During an interview watched by millions on YouTube, a former Fox News journalist revealed that Jake had won the inaugural 1787 Prize as a high school junior. Jake still had the plaque hanging in his flat. “First Prize: Jacob Brightman, Junior, Abilene High.” Normally, this would be something to be proud of. However, mention of this award was a minor disaster. After all, the prompt for the prize the year he won was: “Given all its flaws, is the US Constitution redeemable?” Not backing down from the challenge, Jake wrote an extremely passionate response that was dripping with language Barack Obama would have been envious of, arguing the Constitution was redeemable. It won first prize, and Jake became somewhat of a local celebrity in his senior year.
“In your essay, Jake, you noted that the Constitution was, and I quote, ‘Our best hope, maybe even our only hope, of bringing the country together.’ And now you want to scrap the document. Have you gone insane?”
“I hope not. I still believe in the power of the Constitution to bring people together…”
“But you said it’s our only hope,” interjected Jake’s interrogator. “If it’s scrapped, then what hope’s left? What will bring us together?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps we need to look elsewhere. The state is not short of symbols, that’s for sure. But if not one of those, maybe we’re forced to find that spirit of 1787, when the Constitution hadn’t even been enacted yet but Americans still came together for a common purpose and a common mission.”
“So you disagree entirely with what you wrote back then?”
“I was 17. I said a lot of things then that I don’t agree with now. Like when I told my older brother that Imagine Dragons were the next Beatles. Look, I recognize the impact the prize has had on my life, but I can’t say I still agree with all of it. One thing I do still agree with is that there’s been no other document like our Constitution, and perhaps there never will be another document like it. It’s more important than Magna Carta. And yes, even if we scrap it now, it will stay that way.”
This seemed to shut Jake’s interviewer up, as he moved on to asking about his time at Yale and Justice Clancy’s supervision.
The 1787 prize undoubtedly helped Jake get into the college of his choice, Washington University in St. Louis, and subsequently into Yale Law School. After all, Jake’s grades were nothing special in high school or in college. The most frequent comment on his school reports was that he was “gifted but unable to tap into his potential.” This continued into college, where there were even more distractions.
Unbeknownst to Jake was that Justice Clancy was on the Committee that judged the 1787 prize. Given that he was an Associate Justice at the Supreme Court at the time, his being on the committee made sense. But the committee was secret, and therefore Jake had no idea who had judged his submission. This may explain why Justice Clancy denied Emma’s proposal but accepted Jake’s, as he knew what he was able to produce and also knew that he had defended the Constitution before.
After the YouTube interview, a text from Emma came through: “Proud of you,” followed by a strong arm emoji. Jake never knew how to respond to these messages, which seemed to be an overture to reconnect, but didn’t really say anything, and were hard to interpret.
Besides liking a few updates on each other’s Instagram feeds, the two hadn’t communicated in the past six months. Emma was now working for big law, in one of the most prestigious firms in New York City — no doubt with a hefty six-figure salary. But when broken down by hours worked, her hourly pay was probably not much more than a middle manager in any moderately sized business would make. That’s the kind of parity an 80+ hour week can provide.
He ultimately sat on the message and didn’t write back for a few days. He knew that if he did respond and they started messaging that any interaction may give him some false hope that they’d get back together.
Instead of getting back to Emma, he phoned Marcus. “Hey, bro,” Marcus answered. “Great to hear from you. Going to be nice when this thing’s over and we can properly hang out again. You guys ready to lose or what?”
“Well, the polls say public opinion is tightening, and your group’s negative outlook on scrapping seems to be putting people off.”
“Ha, it’s not intentionally negative messaging, it’s simply what most of our country’s renowned economists are saying about potential developments.”
“Right,” laughed Jake, “not intentionally negative is a good way of phrasing it. Just presenting the facts, right?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, the models are flawed, man. You know it and I know it. Economists prefer the status quo. Anything out of the ordinary, and they freak out. Not to mention, it seems like they plucked their figures out of thin air. Saying we’ll be $55 billion poorer and interest rates could rise to 11 percent just doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what the models have predicted.”
“Right. Well, pasting these dodgy figures on bridges and buses all over the East Coast goes beyond the line. Those tactics are disgusting.”
“Wasn’t my idea. Actually, Abigail came up with that one.”
“Figures.” Abigail had become one of the lead consultants for the Coalition for Preserving. Was she actually reading that Atlantic magazine during the meeting she sat in on with Jake and Justice Clancy, and how much ammunition had that meeting given her? Or, perhaps that meeting was what had sparked her interest in the subject.
On the eve of the referendum vote, Jake was surprisingly relaxed. He denied any further media appearances and was intent on staying in. He decided to get back in touch with Emma. “Thanks. I’m exhausted. You voting with the CfS tomorrow?” He thought about putting some type of playful emoji, but backed away from it.
“Are you really trying to lobby one of the few people in this country who can’t vote tomorrow? Isn’t your time better spent elsewhere, especially now, on this night of all nights?”
She was right. He could probably have gained a few more votes if he were out meeting people, actively posting on social media, or doing media interviews. After all, he knew he was well-liked by the American public and that he was viewed as interesting and competent. But the opposition had painted him as idealistic and naive, and he was starting to think that perhaps they were right. He couldn’t explain exactly how the markets would react if the CfS won and the Constitution was scrapped. He didn’t know if the document would be immediately replaced or if some interim measure would be put forward. There were so many questions he simply couldn’t answer. But he did know that he was sick of this vote hanging over him.
“Do you remember when you said that written constitutions are part of the problem?” he asked, thinking this may take the conversation in a different direction.
“Vaguely,” she replied. “I may have just been being provocative.”
“Well, do you still think so?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, are they essential? No, surely not. Can they sometimes raise more problems than they can solve? Yes, definitely. But could they also help at times? Probably. Ultimately, I think their success or failure boils down to the health of the political realm, and whether people are willing to be civil to each other.”
“For god’s sake, why didn’t you give me that argument during the campaign?” Jake whined.
“Stop it. I think you more than held your own.”
“Thanks. Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Are you happy that you got into law? After all, it’s a pretty significant break from the hard sciences, which seems to run in your family.”
Emma was silent, and Jake had thought he’d crossed the line. After all, he had indirectly brought up Emma’s father, a topic which had been pretty much off limits during their relationship.
“I don’t know. At the time, I felt I needed a change of direction. Or, maybe that’s not the right phrase. I needed some type of renewal or transformation in my life. For so long, I felt as if I had done things because people told me I needed to, or from a sense of obligation. Given the loss of my dad, I probably did things more from a sense of duty than anything. But the turn to law allowed me to take control. I guess I value that.”
Jake was relieved he hadn’t crossed the line. Before he could respond, Emma shot back with a change of subject.
“But anyway, I have a better question.”
Jake was spinning. “What’s that?”
“Do you remember what we said we’d do when we finished law school?”
“You mean open our own cafe in Bakewell and abandon the law completely?”
“Nice try. No, I mean that music festival in Wales that we said we’d go to together?”
“Greenman, sure.”
“Well, it’s happening this weekend.”
***
The following day, Jake met Emma at the airport after casting his ballot. Neither had any idea what this meant. Were they back together? Was this a colossal mistake? Would they sleep together?
On every television screen inside the airport was an address from President Brennan regarding the referendum.
“We adore our past, including our beloved Constitution that’s taken us this far. Our past has made us who we are. And while we honor it and it influences our decision-making in the present, it should not be able to dictate our constitutional future, or keep us in handcuffs when it comes to constitutional change. Each generation must have the opportunity to put its stamp on the Constitution. But our current Constitution doesn’t allow that. It freezes most of us out. This vote has changed that…”
Jake looked away, grabbed Emma’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, and then walked into the terminal.
Dead hand gone.
