I started my genderswapped fics (Miss Kittiwake being the first) after being inspired by An Unstoppable Force (by iteration), wherein Harold Finch is portrayed as Harriet Finch, and Logan Pierce as Lana Pierce.
Instead of Lana Pierce, I went with Reagan, which is close enough to Logan. Besides, I had a wholly different feel for the genderswapped Pierce (even though Lana is quite an enjoyable character in her own right). I still don't get why I see Pierce so often portrayed as a villain stand-in; yes, in canon he's a bit of a jerk, and annoying, and has no sense of boundaries or caution, and of course he tries to track our heroes, but he's still a good guy despite the eccentricities. Which is only confirmed in the final season, rushed as it was.
Lounging back in her chair, Reagan casually raises her glass. "All right, Liana, lay out this plan of yours. And it better not involve cryptocurrency."
Liana downs her drink too fast and splutters, like she's not actually used to high-quality alcohol; Reagan has to grin at that.
"Okay," she croaks, and coughs a bit before she can continue. "Okay, so. You know how you can use Google Maps to look up nearby gas stations, right? And see how much it costs at each place?"
"Yeah. Assuming the businesses update their data." Outdated info is one of Reagan's pet peeves, even though, realistically, not every business would make it a priority to keep their online presence perfectly useful. But it's hard to put together competent apps when the info they pull up is flawed.
"Well, it's kind of a pain to have to look through the list and choose, right?" Liana gestures energetically as she speaks. "But what if your phone… could tell you where to go? Better yet, what if your phone could keep track of how much gas you've got left, and tell you when to fuel up?"
"Or when gas was likely to be cheaper," Reagan muses aloud, catching the idea. "Or when the lines are shorter. It could tweak your schedule a bit to make it faster and easier."
"Yeah! And what if your phone could keep track of, like, groceries, like remembering if you're out of milk and, and coming up with a recipe for the things in your fridge that are close to being expired? Or—"
"You're talking some kind of algorithmic majordomo," Reagan cuts in. "Take a chore, cut it in half because your phone tells you what you need and when to do it." She makes a moue. "That's not half bad."
"Everyone would want one!" Liana enthuses. "No more worrying over the little things, y'know? Everyone's interested in getting more out of life; this kind of app could free up hours a day, just getting rid of the extra details—"
"The real difficulty," Reagan says, "would be getting Google and similar companies to actually work together for this, without making it prohibitively expensive for the average user. Without turning it into another 'users are the product' problem."
"Huh?"
"Look," Reagan says, "there's a base price for every service in existence, the lowest price it's possible to charge and still make a profit. Some of them don't fly because that base price is higher than what people are willing to pay for it."
She vaults to her feet and paces for a moment before stopping to stare out the window at the city far below. "But then we got to the digital age, and suddenly everyone wants things for free. You can't have things for free. There are people who willingly offer the fruits of their labor to the community at large—the Creative Commons—but that's not a significant factor, and it's not usually as effective as a product created for profit.
"So sites like Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Tumblr, even your basic Google search—any site where the users get the service for free—those sites are making money from something other than the users. Which means that the user is the product. They're making money from your eyeballs, from ad revenue, or they're tracking your data and selling it to other companies, or they're using your computer cycles to run calculations… they're making their money by doing something to alter or analyze your behavior for the benefit of people other than you.
"The kind of app you're talking… something that deliberately makes people stop thinking and just follow orders… the perverse incentives would be huge."
Frowning, Liana shakes her head. "I don't get what you mean."
"The biggest problem is going to be making sure that the app doesn't guide your behavior toward things that benefit Google, to the detriment of the end user."
"Huh?" Liana says, again.
Rolling her eyes, Reagan wheels on Liana. "Two gas stations. Equal distance from you. Identical products, no difference in service quality. But one of them has slightly higher prices. Which one would the app choose?"
"The cheaper one," Liana says instantly.
"Ah! But what if the more expensive place has made a deal with Google. If the difference in price is under ten cents, then the app will direct you to that place, instead of the cheaper one. They get preference. So your phone sends you to the higher prices, because it's not trying to do what's best for you, the user; it's trying to do what's best for Google."
Blinking, Liana drops into her chair. After a moment, she opens her mouth. "They can do that?"
"All the time! We're not talking about a program that you make once and sell a million times; that kind of thing could still make a profit at two bucks or even ten cents. We're talking a continuing service, pulling up data from all around you and comparing it based on settings you've maintained, maybe on your phone, maybe on some server in California. Techs continually updating the app to work with the latest data, to troubleshoot the errors and such. With agreements that tie it in to Google Maps, at a bare minimum, which means that Google wants a profit as well. Per user, a couple bucks a month isn't going to cut it. So the money has to come from somewhere, and the company that foots the bill gets to call the shots."
A grin is spreading across Liana's face, and her eyes are practically sparkling. She leans forward, scooting to the edge of her seat. "Okay. Okay. So, how do we get in on this?"
Reagan chuckles before she can stop herself. She steps back over to her seat and sinks down, and then pours herself another glass. "My dear Liana, it does appear that our priorities are a bit in conflict here."
"What? We both want to make money, right?"
"Money, I've got," Reagan says, gesturing with the glass in her hand at her penthouse. "Which isn't to say that I don't want to make more; I know how quickly fortunes can change. But I want to make money by helping people, not by providing new ways for unscrupulous businesses to harm them. Even if that harm is as insignificant as a few cents more than they had to pay for gas."
