It merely throws the process into the laps of human beings who are part of a system of political patronage that has existed for decades. This is the election business in New York City, where the ideals of democracy take a beating at every turn. Jammed machines, long lines and hidden allegiances cloud the integrity of the count. In the room where the state Senate ballot count was taking place, Richard Wagner, a machine technician, leaned the weight of his body into a voting machine. He opened the back door and reached into the fragile metal innards, a dizzying patchwork of rods, clips, bolts and straps.
Technicians have a key that locks in the vote count at the end of the day.
In theory, hundreds of emergency paper ballots are stuffed into the back of each machine in case it breaks. Voters delayed or turned away by broken machines are often upset. I went back in the afternoon. It was still busted. He would lose his job in an instant if he wasn't.