by Dima Zales
She’s right about the numbers, but something feels different about the two scenarios. Pushing someone to his death seems wrong, but flipping a switch to save a greater number of people doesn’t.
Phoe mentally snorts. “This is why I’ll never rely on human moral judgment when it comes to my survival. Just do the next one. I have a feeling the moral dilemmas get worse from here.”
I walk up to the door on the right of the one I just passed. Before entering the room, I glance at my tiny Screen watch. During the Tests, I wasn’t even aware that it was on my wrist.
Guard-Theo has barely lifted his helmeted head from the pillow.
“Wow, Phoe. You weren’t kidding. Time is really messed up between these two places.”
“Yeah, well, to get the buffer overrun, we’ll be here for a while, so you’ll be long out of that black building by the time we’re through with the Test.”
Shaking my head in confusion, I pass through the icy door, and predictably, the world goes away once more.
* * *
This time, the scenario is so odd I can’t help but remember more about who I am—thanks to Phoe’s meddling, of course. I’m Theo the Youth, not Theodore the surgeon, which is what the Test wants me to believe.
I’m in a room with five patients of ‘mine.’ I ‘recall’ that each patient is missing a vital organ. They each have only a day left to live. The reason they’re all in the same room is that they have the same blood type, meaning that if an organ comes in from a person who’s a match for any of these guys, it can be brought into this room for expediency.
“This isn’t scientifically, medically, or even historically accurate,” Phoe thinks, but I ignore her, curious where this is going.
I exit the room because I recall I need to make my rounds. I walk down the corridor, determined to check on a patient recovering from a minor surgery. I look at his chart. He came to get his tonsils removed, but he’s now ready to check out, pending my sign-off. Then something catches my eye. He has the same blood type as the five unfortunate patients. Were he to donate his organs, those five people would live. Of course, he wouldn’t do this of his own volition. Without those five vital organs, he would die.
The question for me, as the surgeon who can save those lives, is—
“No,” I think at Phoe. “The Test creators can’t mean this.”
“In terms of sheer numbers, it’s the same Trolley problem: five versus one,” Phoe thinks. “We know what you have to do to get a good score.”
“I’m not killing this innocent person so I can harvest his organs.” Everything inside me rebels at the notion. “I won’t do it. It’s not just morally wrong—it’s sick and disgusting.”
“This is not real, remember? This is just a Test.”
I point at the donor guy. “Except for the cutting him up bit. Even though I know it’s not real, I don’t think I can do it.”
“I can make it so you’re not aware you’re doing it,” Phoe says mentally. “But it’s risky.”
“Why don’t I forfeit this specific scenario and pass some other one?” I think at her, placing the guy’s chart back at the foot of the bed.
“It might get harder from here. Keep in mind this was designed by people who thought it was morally justified to Forget Mason. To get the high score, either you need to fight your squeamishness, or we have to risk my solution.”
I picture doing what the Test requires and feel instant nausea at the whole idea. This is futile. If I can’t even imagine picking up a scalpel, how can I put it into someone’s body?
“Then let me take over, risk be damned,” Phoe thinks. “The idea is simple. I suppress your conscious thoughts and move your body around—not unlike what’s happening in the outside world.”
“And I won’t see it? I won’t be aware of what my body is doing?”
“No. It will be a gap in your memory, if that’s the solution you choose.”
I hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Fine. Let’s try it with this scenario.”
“Okay,” Phoe replies.
My mind doesn’t go blank, at least not in the way it does when I enter and exit these Test scenarios. It feels more like a gap in my recall, like when I first wake up. The grim task Phoe had to do is like a forgotten nightmare. I know it happened, because that’s the best way to explain the situation I find myself in: I’m standing in a room with the five patients coming to their senses, their vitals normal.
Before I can register the horrifying fact that an innocent man is dead, the Test registers my score, and my brain short-circuits again.
20
I’m back in the corridor, next to three measly green doors. I shudder at the thought of what the next Test scenario will bring.
“How much longer do I have to do this?” I look at the multitude of remaining doors on both sides. “How high does my score have to be?”
“So high it’s best you don’t think about it,” Phoe responds. “Let’s focus on the positive: since the designers didn’t expect anyone to get too high of a score, I suspect they didn’t plan enough unique scenarios either. That means that at some point, these Tests will repeat themselves.”
“Why can’t someone else get a super-high score?” I wonder. “As disgusting as that last scenario was, the rule of ‘always save the most people’ isn’t hard to figure out and mindlessly follow. I’m sure some Test takers did just that.”
“I don’t think you’ll just face moral dilemmas here,” Phoe says. “Just keep going and we’ll see.”
* * *
The next two scenarios are also moral dilemmas. They deal with a lifeboat and aren’t as disgusting as the last scenario. After Phoe tells me what I have to do, I decide I can manage them myself. She claims these scenarios are also based on ancient moral dilemma classics, and I take her word for it.
The sixth scenario is something I recognize. It’s called the Prisoner’s Dilemma, and I choose ‘cooperation’ even before Phoe suggests that as the way to score the point.
When I enter the seventh door, things are a little different.
For one, I fully remember almost everything about myself, just not how I arrived here, in Instructor George’s class.
No one else is here except the two of us. There are three strange-looking doors at the front of the room.
“Find the door that leads out of here, and you can skip the next three Lectures, Theodore,” the Instructor says. “Go ahead, based on a hunch, which of these would you open? You can choose it now, but don’t open it yet. I will give you an option to change your choice.”
I point at the rightmost door.
“Here’s the twist,” Instructor George says. “I’m going to toss this coin.” He shows me the ancient artifact as though it’s the most natural thing for him to be holding. “If the coin lands on heads, I’ll open the middle door and show you if it’s your winning door. If so, you’re obviously out of luck.” He tosses the coin.
“It’s tails,” he announces while opening the leftmost door. Pointing at the red wall behind the door, he says, “This door is a losing choice, so it all comes down to this: Do you want to switch your choice from the rightmost door to the middle one? I will allow you to switch, if you so choose.”
I look at the two doors. No one is getting killed this time, which is good, but I don’t fully get the point of what’s going on. It’s a fifty-fifty proposition, and I might as well stick with the rightmost door, since I feel attached to it.
“No, Theo.” Phoe’s thought is disappointed. “Choose to switch.”
“I want to switch,” I tell Instructor George.
As suddenly as I utter those words, I return to the Test hallway.
The door I just went through is green, but I don’t understand why.
“Because the logical thing to do was switch to the door with the higher chance of being the winner,” Phoe explains.
“What are you talking about?” I object. “It was fifty-fifty either way.”
“No,
it was one out of three for your first choice, but two out of three in the case of that middle door.”
I frown. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Trust me.” Phoe’s thought is amused. “It’s called the Monty Hall Problem, and you’re free to look it up in your leisure time, assuming such a thing will ever happen. Don’t beat yourself up for not understanding it. It’s famous for its counter-intuitiveness, and I suspect it’s problems like these that answer your earlier question about high scores. Many people would’ve gotten this wrong, and the Test would’ve ended.”
“Fine. I don’t want to argue. I’m getting tired of this, and I want it over with.”
“I’m sorry to break it to you, but it won’t be over for a very, very long time.” Phoe pauses, then thinks at me, “It’s not too late to quit.”
“No, we proceed as planned.” I walk confidently toward the next door.
The scenario is a moral dilemma again. It’s a twist on the first train situation I encountered. The single difference is that I remember living in the same house as the person I have to sacrifice. His name is John. This leads me to not want to flip the switch, but I do. In the next situation, it’s the train scenario again, but instead of John—a stranger I theoretically knew—I have to sacrifice Liam. Flipping the switch on my own is too hard, so I ask Phoe to take over my body.
The next few scenarios, according to Phoe, come from an ancient IQ test. In every case, I mentally tell her what I want to do, and she tells me if I’m wrong so I don’t fail the Test.
After what feels like hours, I gaze at the row of at least a hundred green doors. “Will I eventually get hungry or thirsty?” I ask Phoe.
“This place wasn’t designed to give you a chance to do these Tests long enough to feel those urges,” she responds. “In your special case, since I have access to the resources the Test allocated to emulate you, I can adjust things so you don’t feel hunger or thirst. It’s akin to how I was able to give you that watch.”
I look at my hand. At this point in the real world, Theo has finally gotten his head off the pillow, and his feet are on the floor. In other words, a few seconds have passed in the real world, even though I’ve been taking this Test for ages.
“That is why I advise you against looking at the watch in the future,” Phoe says. “In general, avoid any references to the passage of time. You’re going to be stuck in this Test for so long that it’s best you don’t pay close attention to what’s going on outside. I can make you alert, but even I can’t help you if you get fed up.”
“No looking at the watch, check,” I think and confidently walk to the next icy door.
This time, the logic-testing stuff merges with the moral dilemma scenarios. I’m presented doors, and opening them saves or kills people. After this, more of the previous Tests get mingled.
I take Test after Test for what feels like a week. Maybe it is a week. I don’t know because I refuse to look at my watch, as Phoe suggested.
On the next iteration, I’m faced with the original Trolley problem: five people on one side, a single person on the other, and a switch.
“Looks like the Test has come full circle, like you predicted,” I think.
“Yes,” Phoe agrees tersely. “But—”
“Does this mean we’re almost done?”
“I knew that would be your next question. No, we are far from getting a high-enough score for a buffer overrun. I’m sorry. What’s worse is that I doubt I can convince you to quit.”
“What makes you so sure?” I ask, knowing full well she’s right.
“I could say it was your answers during the sunken costs scenario, but really, it’s because I can read your stubborn mind.”
Instead of responding, I walk to the next door. The scenario is the one where I have to push a guy off the cliff.
After I do the full Test circle a few more times, I realize a month, maybe even a few months, have gone by since I last looked at the watch-Screen.
I allow myself the guilty action and look. Guard-Theo is walking outside, with Guards following him.
“What happened?” I think at Phoe. “Are they trying to catch us again?”
“I had to run an errand on the side,” Phoe explains. “They caught up with me afterwards. I’m about to have us jump on a disk. With your attitude toward heights, you might not want to look at the watch for a while.”
“I could live the rest of my life and be happy if I never, ever have to fly again,” I think at her. “I’ll focus on the Tests, but I’m beyond bored now.”
“We’re not even one percent done—”
“I won’t quit,” I think before she suggests it. “So let’s just go on.”
I do a series of at least a few hundred more Test cycles. Most of the time, Phoe has to intervene in the gruesome scenarios like she did before, but when it comes to logic-leaning Tests, since I learned all the answers, I do them on my own.
After I push the guy off the cliff again and get back to the corridor, I think at Phoe, “I don’t want to see that hospital room again. Can you take over my mind from here?”
“I can, but it would be safer to—”
“I think it’s worth the risk,” I think wearily. “You took over for me so many times already, and nothing happened. I’m just so—”
Phoe must do her takeover thing, because my mind blanks, and I’m standing next to a green door.
“Wow, that was so much easier.” I grin. “Can you please, pretty please, do a bunch more? If I experience another—”
“Fine,” Phoe thinks before I get the chance to finish, and I black out again.
When I come to, I’m standing next to another green door.
I look to my left and have to rub my eyes in amazement. The row of green doors reaches the horizon, same as the ice ones on my right.
“How many Tests did you take without giving me back control?” I ask Phoe gratefully.
“Too many,” she answers sullenly. I expect her to ask if I want to quit, but she doesn’t.
“Can you do that again? Pretty please, with sugar on—”
My mind goes dark again.
This time I come to on the cliff. The giant guy is there, so I assume I’m about to hear the train and the screams.
“Figured you’d want to do the honors.” Phoe’s thought sounds gleeful. “This is the last scenario. Once you push him down, the score will finally reach the number we need. From there, I’ll take care of the rest.”
I feel a huge wave of gratitude toward Phoe for sparing me the need to do these Tests for the months or years I had left. I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I wanted this ordeal over.
On a whim, I raise the watch-Screen to my face, wondering what I’m about to return to, and my insides turn to jelly.
The real-world me is falling. Guard-Theo is frozen in the middle of clutching the disk to his chest as he plummets into the forest.
“It’s all under control.” Phoe’s thought enters my mind defensively. “I warned you about looking at that damn Screen.”
“You mean I’ll fall to my death after all this?” I can’t help but subvocalize. “Is that what you mean by ‘under control’?”
“There were Guards chasing your body, so that maneuver couldn’t be avoided. As soon as the Test is over, you’ll experience me using your muscles to resolve the situation, or if you prefer, I can do what I did here: ride your body without you even being conscious at all. This way you’ll regain awareness only after I make sure you don’t hit the ground. Hell, I can have you come to after all the flying is over.”
“Or I might never come to at all,” I mumble. “Not if you get me killed.”
With effort, I tear my gaze away from the frightening image on the watch-Screen, and at that moment, something catches my attention.
It’s the very familiar back of the about-to-be-pushed-off-a-cliff guy. Unlike the thousands of previous times we’ve gone through this scenario, he’s acting differently. The giant is turning toward m
e.
Shocked, I stare at his front. It looks like it’s made out of molten clay—assuming someone used that material to create a monster from a nightmare.
As I blink at him uncomprehendingly, the creature points a giant finger at me and opens his ginormous maw.
I half-expect projectiles to launch at me from the gaping hole of his mouth, but instead, I hear an ear-shattering voice say, “Intruder.”
His throat clearly wasn’t made for talking, which explains the laconic message.
“Fuck,” Phoe says out loud. “It’s the anti-intrusion algorithm.”
21
“It’s my fault,” I think frantically. “I shouldn’t have subvocalized earlier. And I should’ve been conscious for the Tests instead of—”
“Shut up and focus on this threat,” Phoe says, her tone clipped.
The giant steps toward me. His movements shake the ground under my feet.
I take two uncertain steps back, then a few more. When my back is to the edge of the cliff, I hear the train below.
“Shit,” I think at Phoe. “When the train hits those five people, I’ll fail this scenario, and all this work will be for nothing.”
“We’ll start with that then,” Phoe responds mentally. “Turn around and jump.”
Before I even get a chance to express my incredulity at that command, I turn around and jump. For a second, while I’m weightless, I’m uncertain if I jumped because Phoe took over my will or because I now trust her to the point of insanity. Before I fall, a disk materializes under my feet. My shoes transform into the white boots of a Guard, and I connect with the disk. Looks like Phoe wants to make sure I’m magnetically attached to the disk to allow for crazier flight paths.