The Supreme Court of Infinite Justices: A Swipe-Right Democracy

Once upon a time in Washington, D.C., in the not-too-distant future, a political party (let’s call them the Red Wolves) won a supermajority in Congress. They decided they’d had enough of those pesky 9 Supreme Court justices with their "different opinions" and "constitutional interpretations." The solution? Add more justices until the court leaned firmly in their favor. And so, they added 10. Then 15. Then 30. For the first time in history, the Supreme Court needed an auxiliary cafeteria.

But two years later, the Blue Bears swept into power, furious at the sheer audacity of the Red Wolves. They declared, "Two can play at this game!" And thus, they added 50 more justices of their own. By now, the Supreme Court had relocated to a convention center, and oral arguments were conducted via megaphone.

Two years later, the Red Wolves clawed their way back to power, determined not to be outdone. They tripled the court size. The justices began to form subcommittees to decide whether to use the elevator or stairs.

This pattern continued. Every election cycle brought new expansions. At first, the logistics were manageable, but by the time the number of justices hit 1,000, the Supreme Court had to lease a football stadium. By 2,000 justices, they were deliberating on the moon because it was the only venue big enough to hold them.

The judicial robes budget alone plunged the nation into a mild recession. Justice deliberations took years, with justices having to "swipe left" on arguments they disagreed with and "swipe right" to approve. An enterprising tech company even developed "Judicial Tinder," where justices could match with opinions they found compelling.

With 5,000 justices, things became truly absurd. Decisions on even the simplest cases—like whether pineapple belongs on pizza—took decades to finalize. In one particularly chaotic session, a heated argument about the placement of commas in the Constitution resulted in a 3-day brawl in the Supreme Court pool area.

Finally, a frustrated citizen stood up during a town hall meeting and said, "Why do we even need a Supreme Court? Let’s just make every voting citizen a justice and handle everything on our phones!" The idea gained traction immediately. Soon, every U.S. citizen over 18 downloaded the "SCOTUS App," where they could cast their vote on cases with a single tap.

A notification might read: "Should cats be allowed in public libraries? Tap YES or NO." Cases were decided in real-time. No robes, no deliberations, and no need for 3-hour Zoom calls from Mars. People loved it. Well, except for the actual justices, who were forced to retire and take up jobs as influencers on Judicial TikTok.

By the time the system was in full swing, people began to wonder if this was democracy’s ultimate triumph or its weirdest plot twist. But one thing was clear: pineapple-on-pizza debates finally had their definitive rulings, and everyone got a say—even if it was just to swipe left.