Page 78 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“My program also aggregates and disaggregates public opinion.” I search my mind for an example. “It doesn’t just tell me sixty-five percent of the comments about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are positive, it gives the geographical regions of the opinions. In the South, they love the way the couple seemingly embodies traditional gender norms—he opens the door for her, she wears demure lace dresses. Or that user 12345 really loved Kelce’s old tweet misspelling Chipotle as Chipolte, but also that the stars-are-like-us moment played well for weeks afterward, drowning smaller negative stories that would have otherwise dominated the cycle.”

I can see Lucas nodding; he saw an older version of this in Abe’s office, and perhaps he guesses where I’m going. I’m typing even as I explain, trying to test things in real time. “Brody and Vi are both still in their stars-rising phase, which means there’s less to analyze, but everything so far suggests that the people commenting—and I know that’s only a small portion of who’s out there, but they can be a vocal and sometimes opinion-swaying minority—are upset for two main reasons. They think Brody’s too wishy-washy, that he’s not taking enough stances and doesn’t have enough connections with the actual community. Others say Vi is too curated and fake. A lot of the online trolls are saying they always knew Vi couldn’t . . .” I pause, because online commentators are terrible, and I don’t really want to give them voice, but my plan doesn’t work unless we combat the negativity head-on.

It’s Vi who finishes the sentences for me. “Couldn’t hold down a man. I’m a two-weeks-in-Vienna girl. A two-month-holiday romance. Not the one you stay with. Definitely not the one you introduce to your parents.”

I nod because it’s true. Vi and Khloe have had their share of short-lived, potentially only for the media romances and showmances with low-level movie stars and DJs. One football player. A basketball star. A record producer. “The way to combat that is to feed the internet our own story.”

“I’ve spoken to our publicist,” Khloe interrupts. “We can deny it, or—and this is their official suggestion that we’re apparently paying them for the privilege of—we can ignore it. They said they could also plant a story about Brody and Lorelai fighting over something stupid, but Darcy doubts we’d gain traction. Curated responses often fail to launch. We could also engage a company more experienced in specifically this, but they’re . . . a lot more expensive.”

“Big data requires big compute,” Brody explains succinctly.

“Our publicist is traditional, which wasn’t a problem when we were younger, but⁠—”

Khloe finishes for her twin. “Media-savvy publicists, with algorithm-backed strategies, are the only way to more effectively target a story like this.”

I twist my lips because Khloe really, really doesn’t talk like the ditzy model of my stereotyped dreams, which means she’s not a terrible match for Lucas.

“My model is a little more fine-tuned in certain aspects.” I swallow and try to shift my focus from the Khloe-and-Lucas idea. “More importantly, my model’s right here, I’m right here, which means we can push stories and both monitor and tweak the narratives in real time.”

I have everyone’s attention as I explain: I can feed the engine targeted stories, in different geographical locations. A story leaked in Los Angeles can more easily be targeted to the IP addresses of the commenters who were focused on Brody’s lack of community work. We can float another story about how he participated actively in undergraduate efforts highlighting domestic violence awareness, that even beyond his parents’ foundation, he’s always been involved in the community. Another story from Montana, showing Brody with his friends, leaking pictures that show he’s had the same core group of friends since college, having one or two of them give a quote about how excited they are about the wedding. “We can find pictures of Brody being dramatic, so that if anyone reverse-images the one where Brody looks agitated, we spin it as passionate—the future representative has always been passionate, this is how he looks when he loses at foosball. What last night’s photos labeled an aberration is . . . Brody’s Monday. He’s a driven, emotional man. That won’t hurt his campaign, and it’ll lower the potential algorithmic ranking of any one picture. If we plant it specifically in locations outside of California, so it seems organic, it’ll seem less motivated by his political aspirations. We release a couple of less-than-flattering stories as well, because everyone’s now curious about the wedding. We make sure a small slice is negative, but in a way we control.”

I gloss over details about how I’ll target specific users with a combination of ads and stories—that my program harnesses the social media chaos machine. It looks unpatterned, but in reality, there will be a signal in the noise that I create, track, and control.

I’ve been experimental for well over a year, but I haven’t told Abe, or anyone else. In part because it goes well beyond the bounds of my original dissertation.

Everyone is listening intently, and I feel my skin overheating, but I push forward. “The Vi part would require a little more active staging, but we could leak pictures of Vi and me hanging out, showing everyone we’re also friends, independently. Especially if we can make sure Vi looks goofy, a little more casual . . . it might help along multiple vectors.”

There’s a beat of silence before Lucas announces, “Some pictures of me and Lorelai as a couple would also help. We’d become, at least temporarily, the more interesting couple.”

I’m not the only person who draws an auditory breath.

From the thoughtful expressions on everyone else’s faces, I’m also not the only one who realizes: It would help the story.

“A couple of double dates,” Khloe suggests, and I’m surprised by this turnaround. She’s broadcasted her interest in Lucas, but either she doesn’t view me as a long-term threat, or she values her twin’s image over a potential romance with Lucas.

Brody nods, running hands through already disheveled hair. “Better than doing nothing.”

I watch as Vi squeezes Khloe’s hand. They’re old masters at curating their public images; I’m merely asking them to use my program, to make it a little more directed, for a few days.

It’s only then that Lucas turns to me. “When did you develop the second half?”

“It was an offshoot of my dissertation. A year. Maybe two.”

“Meaning it’s been potentially viable as a product for . . .”

My nonchalant shrug doesn’t fool anyone, even me. “Around that amount of time.”

“What am I missing?” Khloe’s voice is sharp. She wants to be invited to a joke she’s missed.

“Lorelai Zhao’s sitting on a product worth, at the very least, tens of millions. Data is plentiful. Analyzing is expensive. Depending on what her model is . . . it might be worth more than tens of millions, if it can do even close to the same amount of analysis with less compute.” Lucas pauses, and I can see the wheels turning as he processes. “Even if she hadn’t wanted to perfect and sell it, it’s exactly the type of product her daddy, or her ex, would have loved to get their hands on. But she chose to stay a poor graduate student.”

Brody clears his throat. “Could you give us a minute?”

Lucas, Vi, and Khloe all turn toward him, clearly confused by the ambiguity of his statement. It’s actually Vi who understands first. “You’re kicking me out of my own room?”

“No, but—” Brody runs his fingers through his hair, and I find myself hoping he doesn’t display the same tell in the courtroom. “Lorelai is also my client, and we’re flitting dangerously close to something that’s protected by a completely different nondisclosure.”

The twins aren’t trained models and actresses for nothing. Neither shows anything beyond mild surprise.