Seen from Above

Falia was resigned to her mission. The thankless task of checking out possible new worlds traditionally fell to the most junior member of the Interplanetary Relationship Bureau. It was probably a false alarm anyway, and even if it wasn’t there was nothing she could do beyond data gathering, worse luck. To remove temptation, scout vessels simply weren’t equipped for landing.

After the autopilot had maneuvered her ship into orbit, Falia set to work. Satellites made tapping into data sources seem like child’s play. She was excited to get her first glimpse of a new species, have the ship’s computer navigate through the jumble of languages, and dip into it’s strange culture. But her excitement soon turned to dismay at what she found.

Morality. The planet was infested with it. Preachers of morality raped children; others murdered in the name of family values. Those whose very existence offended the reigning moral code were despised and persecuted; those unwilling to accept it reviled. Where two moralities clashed, hatred and violence inevitably followed: the slaughter of innocents on the way was defended by moral leaders.

On the way back Falia tried to shake off her feeling of revulsion. How could anyone value rules over sentient beings’ feelings and needs? Her report would go through the usual channels, though the outcome was clear.  After the Bureau had slipped up with Silema-β, only narrowly avoiding the first interplanetary war, the ruling on a morality-ridden planet was inevitable.

Quarantine.

***

T.Mastgrave’s weekly Philosophical Story Challenge: how do conflicting moralities come to terms with one another?

And the Weekly Photo Challenge: From Above, another look at last week’s flower.

Perfection

“It  will be fine, It will be fine.” Edith repeated her mantra. She was on the way to the medical center with her mate John, to receive their baby’s test results. It was their third attempt, the first two hadn’t passed the eugenics review. Maybe their genes just weren’t good enough.

The tube coasted to a stop. A woman and a child were waiting on the platform. Edith flinched as they got into the car. Clearly there was something wrong with the child: it’s awkward walk was painful to watch. She saw the mother looking at it with fierce protectiveness as other passengers turned away and some got up and moved away.

As the tube surged forward again, Edith instinctively put her hand on her belly. Suddenly she wanted her baby, whether or not it measured up to some arbitrary standard of perfection. It was hers, theirs. Even if it didn’t, there was no reason to be ashamed, no reason to hide.

To hide…

Maybe the reason you rarely saw disabled people anymore wasn’t the huge success of mandatory genetic screening. Maybe they were simply pushed out of sight by the contempt and disgust they were met with.

She gave the child’s mother an awkward smile.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: If natural selection (survival of the fittest) is the means by which the process of evolution unfolds, is eugenics wrong?

Sugar on Top

Cavern put the phone down slowly. After thirty years on the job, he didn’t need telling a summons to the White House wasn’t good news. When crisis after crisis hit, protecting the quality of drinking water suddenly became an important job.

More than an hour into the meeting, the cards were finally on the table. The president was instructing him to introduce antidepressants into the water-supply.

Cavern looked down. “It won’t work.” he said quietly.
“How do you know that?” the President asked. “You haven’t tried it.”
Cavern could hear his voice from a distance.  “They did. Nearly thirty years ago.”

There was a stunned silence. The Defence Secretary was the first to recover: “So what was their solution?”

Cavern swallowed. “Soda,” he said weakly, “they put it in the soda.”

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s Philosophical Story Challenge: Is greatest happiness the greatest good?  

A Fresh Start

When he woke up, his mind was a blank.

He would learn later that he was in a hospital and an accident with the wiring had erased his memory. In the beginning the doctors were hopeful his memory would return, but in the meantime he needed to start from scratch.

He was a quick learner. Walking, eating with a knife and fork, and brushing his teeth were a breeze. He loved mathematical puzzles, and once he had mastered  “See Spot run”, he quickly became an avid reader.

When the doctors pronounced him as good as new, he went home to his family and his job. He did his best to settle in, to do the things he was told to do. But as often as not, he didn’t see the point. He hated the noise, and was puzzled by the empty conversations.

One day he took a boat, and sailed for the horizon.

Nobody had told him he couldn’t.

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Do our memories make us who we are?

Lighting Candles

Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle,

and the life of the candle will not be shortened.

Happiness never decreases by being shared.

– Buddha 

It all started with a science project. Angela Goodfellow set up a website, and crowd sourced her experiment. People registered, volunteered for a group, and returned to answer questions. There was the “Friends and Neighbours” group, the “Strangers only”, “Secret”, “Wear a Badge”, and various others.

Officially the project ended, but the test subjects stayed on. New volunteers showed up every day, and similar sites started popping up. The results were overwhelming. All of the volunteers – except the control group – reported they smiled more, felt less stress, and their relationships were better. After three to six months even their health improved. It did turn out to be addictive, but nobody really minded.

It seems obvious to us nowadays, but back then people really didn’t know: even if you do them in secret and for strangers, random acts of kindness make you happier.

* * *

This week’s philosophical story challenge by T.Mastgrave:  Is altruism possible?

Related post: Why Hate Hurts – or love heals.

Still Waters

Jeremy yawned. Camping was bad enough; if only his Dad didn’t insist on having these pointless conversations. Did he exist? Well, obviously! Yes, like a drop of water joins the sea, he would die one day – who wanted to be old, anyway? But unlike a drop of water, he would enjoy life along the way.

Could he prove he existed? Sometimes Dad was like little Louey, really! Told the knight couldn’t move in a straight line, Louey had gone berserk: Prove it! he had shouted. Those are the rules, dummy. You don’t prove them, they’re just there. If you don’t like them, don’t play chess.

Family was really the limit. After lunch he’d find a way to slope off.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Can you be sure you exist?

The End Is Nigh

The End is Nigh! the man shouted.

Is there still time for hot chocolate? Riley asked.

The-End-is-Nigh guy blinked. Ah, maybe, I don’t know.

― Jana Oliver, Forbidden

Why, thank-you, dearie. I never say no to a biscuit. And what’s your name, young lady? Louise? The old face cracked in a smile.

Do I believe what? That the dragon is coming and the world will end tomorrow?

Now, when I was your age, the world was always coming to an end. Left and right people were predicting disasters. I think it’s because they want the world to change. And right they are! But no, I don’t think the world will end tomorrow.

The dragon, now, that’s a whole other story. The old eyes twinkled. I’ve seen it myself, you know…

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s story challenge: the End of Time.

A New Dawn

Time was running out. He had put off the decision as long as he could.

Engrossed in the project he had asked strangers their opinion. The fuzzy answers annoyed him: what use were they? He studied ancient books and their sweeping judgements made him angry: it was just words. None of these philosophers had known the responsibility he faced.

It was up to him to finalise the program. His hand would flip the switch. Future generations would thank him – or curse his name.

We have many needs, he thought. Big ones and small ones. Some we all share, others are peculiar to ourselves. Sometimes we value one more; another time we valued it less. Not all our needs are met, indeed, some may never be.

So that is what he taught the machines. They would preserve life. They would consider needs varying in individuals and over time. They would do what was possible to restore the scorched earth. But when the planet was habitable again, they would relinquish their power.

And give mankind the freedom to make its own mistakes. Again.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: the relationship between “good” and “pleasurable”.

Up in the Air

It was a beautiful day; clouds drifted lazily overhead. Jack and his Grandfather were lying in the grass.
– See the dragon? It’s turning into a duck! They laughed.

– Look, those two have joined. Are they still two clouds? Or is it one now?
Jack frowned in concentration. Over the meadow, the clouds seemed to peter out.
– What do you think happens to the clouds when they get there?
Jack pondered. People were always telling him things. Only Grandfather asked what Jack thought.

It would be the last time the two were together. Back in school, Jack’s teacher commiserated.
– It’s alright, Jack reassured his teacher. He’s in the air now.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’ philosophical story challenge: What is the soul?

A Bit of Peace

Robbie sat down on a log and let out a sigh, Rufus flopped down beside him. The two had scampered up the hill and dashed into the woods, now both needed to catch their breath.

Robbie thought it was unfair. He was sure he tried to be good. OK, so he probably shouldn’t have tried to drape the neighbour’s tabby on his snowman – though it made a great fur scarf. He was sick of being lectured, especially when the lecture involved innocent animals.

If animals are innocent, why aren’t I? Rufus looked up at him, thumping his tail, and woofed.

* * *

Today’s philosophical story challenge: Is man innately good or evil?

And the Sunday Post Challenge: Peaceful.

Victory

The secret of all victory

lies in the organisation

of the non-obvious.

– Marcus Aurelius

Always an early riser, the leading counsel for the plaintiff had made his way to court at the crack of dawn. He could barely keep still as he surveyed the place where only hours from now the historic hearing would begin. Steadying himself on an ancient tree, he suddenly realised he had spent almost 20 years – nearly all his professional life – preparing this case.

They had carried the point that the hearing take place in the plaintiff’s presence, hence the unorthodox venue. The motion to banish wooden furnishings from the court’s temporary residence had also succeeded. But only yesterday the decision had come through that would almost certainly clinch the case: as the plaintiff was suing for recognition as a full citizen, his full name was to be read out in court in an English translation.

20 sonorous pages, a few lines for each decade of the plaintiff’s life:

I am the tree who stands on the hill…

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: “What does it mean to be equal?” A prequel to Neighbours.

Heartbeat

When the message came it was not what they expected. Scientists had been monitoring the electromagnetic spectrum for decades, but what came were gravitational pulses. Astronomers puzzled about what could be causing them, searching the skies for new comets. Then a series of prime number pulses showed it was a message, an alien intelligence trying to communicate.

Linda had joined the analysis team straight from Princeton. She spent hours listening to the pulses transformed to sound. There was an underlying thump, steady and rhythmic, always there. A heartbeat, she called it. There were many layers of other rhythms that had been filtered out to show the prime number message. Just noise, everyone said.

But Linda listened to the plaintive beats, over and over again. The others joked about her late night listening sessions. It’s lonely, she said, it wants to be heard.

After two years of research there was still no clue where the message came from. Now the most bizarre theories were being considered. One day Linda ventured hers:
I think it’s not alien at all: I think it’s the Earth.
She knew she would get enough flak for this, so she didn’t add:
I think it’s in pain. I think it’s screaming.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: What does it mean to be an individual?

Hope Springs Eternal

He had known the conversation would be difficult, and, as always, He had been right. He let His mind drift.

In his young godding days, things had been easy. Thunder, it had felt good. They did warn you. Creating a world was fun, but if you started to take an interest, if you let yourself become enmeshed with its history, it would change you.

And he had become enmeshed: he had fallen in love. With a perfect soul, a warm and wonderful human being. The warmth of her smile flooded Him with joy, and when she was in pain, so was He. And He had begun to change. Unthinking cruelty towards His creatures was impossible now, as it would hurt her. And when she talked of humanity, how could He not listen?

Slowly, He began to understand. He had given them knowledge, but not control. They were still at the mercy of every instinct and impulse. Teaching them to judge instead of to accept had backfired, creating conflicts and hatred, blocking their ability to cooperate.

How could He punish them for being what He had made them? She had asked, and He had found no answer. To understand all was to forgive all. He wrenched His mind back to the present.

“Rehabilitation?!” The devil’s ears were quivering. Hell wasn’t more than an eternal naughty step, anyway. He simply didn’t have the staff. But this was going too far.
“If a King orders a General to fly like a bird and the General fails, whose fault is that?”
Luce snorted. “Another one of your son’s little parables, huh?”
No, ” He said patiently, “it’s from a book, a human book.”  And He began to explain His plans.

* * *

When Luce left, his tail was twitching nervously. He gave himself a little shake. Early retirement didn’t sound too bad. Relax. Take some time off on a hot beach. Leave the job to someone else.

A smirk spread on his face.

Good boy Gabe, perhaps?

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Omniscience and Free Will. I couldn’t resist writing a sequel to The Devil Is in the Details.

The Devil Is in the Details

It simply wasn’t fair! He fumed. The client base was growing. There was really only so much he could do with his small host of imps. Who mostly chased their own tails, anyway.

With the population explosion, he had counted on setting the damned souls to work. Now the Boss had vetoed it. It would be pernicious to their souls. They were the damned, dammit! But, apparently, the fine print foresaw ultimate salvation for all.

He didn’t know how he’d manage without computers. Next: a customizable operating system. He grinned. It would drive people mad! He’d simply be raking the souls in!

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s story challenge: Overworked and rundown.

Simplicity

She hated frills and furbelows. A complex machine, now, that was beautiful. Everything in its place, functioning together as a harmonious whole.

She had spent aeons on the design, fine-tuning the different factors to achieve a delicate balance. Everything would be perfect. A few simple laws, that was the trick. No tinkering would be needed: only mechanics did that. It was fitting that to breathe life into her creation she would explode into a trillion trillion pieces.

She looked at her plan, and saw that it was good. Her final thought was: “Let there be light.”

And there was light.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Simplicity.

WYSIWYG

K’12 Ink & watercolour sketch. Ceci n’est pas un chat.

I’ve always been fascinated by the gaps.

You know, there’s a blind spot,bang in the middle of your field of vision, but you don’t see a blank there, your brain covers it up. And you only see colour in a very small part of the picture, just where you’re focussing; the rest is gray. But your brain colours it in, or just lets you believe it’s in colour.

We only experience very small bits of the world, and extrapolate the rest. I  only  see  this  corner  now, but I imagine the rest of the room will be there  when  I  turn  around.  I can hear the cat in the kitchen. Rather, I hear noises,  and  I  think  it’s  the  cat in what I remember as the kitchen. I assume that if I get up, I’ll find the kitchen, and probably even the cat – but do I really know that?

What if the world is only what we perceive? What if things come into existence as we approach them, and are erased when we turn around or walk away? Maybe we live in a small bubble of reality we carry around with us.

I have to accept I can only check whether reality lives up to my expectation. If the kitchen is there when I go fetch a drink, I suppose it’s enough. I do worry about the cat, though…

Sorry, I know this must sound strange to you. But life isn’t easy when you live in a computer simulation.

* * *

My second attempt at answering T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Knowledge.

Blowing in the Wind

I once read that when you’re depressed, you find it hard to make small decisions. I guess that means I’m not depressed. Pizza or pasta, the green shirt or the blue one – not a problem.

But I’ve got this offer to work in Hong-Kong. It sounds great, maybe a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But it’s a three year contract. What if I hate it there? What it I don’t find a new job when I come back? Either way, whatever I decide could ruin my whole life, and I’ll always regret it. What do I do?

Maybe I’ll wait. Just a bit.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s story challenge: Fear of Life.
And a slightly different take on the Travel Theme Challenge: Couples.

The Writing on the Wall

I don’t really know when it started. At first, I just thought graffiti was on the rise. When I mentioned it to a neighbour, she just stared. Then I realised it was only me seeing the messages.

Some were more general “Who are you”, “Cheer up.” Then it was “Don’t” and “He’s a liar” when I was considering an offer to work for this chap.

The doctors have checked me out: my eyes are fine, and it seems I’m not properly crazy either. So am I getting messages from somewhere? Or just hallucinating? And how do I know the difference?

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Knowledge. My story is inspired by Joan Slonczewski’s The Children Star: a lovely read!

The Lesser Evil

Democracy is the worst form of government
except all the others that have been tried.
– Winston Churchill

RB dragged his burden to the store-room. The sentry waved him in.
– Cast your vote yet? the sentry asked.
– Nah. RB scurried out. He wasn’t sure. The National Block wanted to keep things as they were. The Forwards Party wanted change: Shorter hours, less military service.

Shorter hours sounded good. But where was the food to come from? With less military service, more workers would be free, they said. Would the sentries know how to forage?  What if there was an attack?

Difficult questions. RB’s antennae waved ceaselessly. Getting the vote didn’t seem to make life easier for a worker-ant.

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s story challenge: The Lesser of Two Evils.

Moral Choice

The Xenian Alliance took pains to understand new joiners. For difficult questions audiovisual multiple choice material was provided.

• Absolute morality. Created and hive species. – Material showing a self-replicating garbage-disposal creature. Its only reaction to “Garbage can stay here” was “This unit is faulty.”
• Consequentialism. Hybrid species, i.e. machines evolved through learning. “Trying to achieve the Good.”
• Relativism. Early social species. “Live and let live.” “To each his own.”
• Non-violence, embracing need-based mediation over moralising. Advanced species with a concept of ecological systems. “Everyone is always doing their best.“

What could she say?

Humanity is … Divided?

* * *

T. Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: moral absolutism vs. moral relativism. After some suggestions, I tried a rewrite.

* * *

– You can’t say?
– No.
– That is impossible. You must believe:
A) What is good is absolute.
B) What is good is relative to the society you live in.
or C) What is good must be determined by need-based mediation from case to case.
– We’re divided.
– Divided? The librarian’s voice rose in a whine. How can that be?

After the interview, the librarian needed to recharge his batteries. Cataloguing the attributes and beliefs of the Members of the Xenian Alliance was a draining task. He plugged himself into the outlet.

These humans! They confirmed all his suspicions about water-based species.

Unreliable.

Watchdog

Watching? Or dreaming?

No more surfing today, Kyledrone said evenly, you set the limit yourself on Wednesday.

Kyle hated the goal setting sessions. He always ended up setting goals he didn’t want. It was his decision alone, but somehow his parents and the drone always seemed to win. He hated his drone sometimes. It protected him, it was always there. But it should let him cheat sometimes!

The drone hovered. Only recently a neighbour had given his drone the slip, and thrown himself over a cliff. Kyledrone would never let that happen. It had put in far too much hard work for that.

* * *

T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Whose body is this?

Night Terrors

Carl awoke screaming, still caught in his dream. Reeducation did that to you.

With the realisation that no-one could help their actions, had come the judicial reform. Violent offenders were no longer punished, but reeducated. Today it was possible to instill the sense of empathy in someone who lacked it.

So now Carl was capable of love and empathy. By day. By night he relived his past: every blow, every stab, every cruelty he had visited on his victims. The look in their eyes.

The suicide rate among Re-eds was 60%. The rest … probably innocent.

Quicker than death row, some said.

T.Mastgrave’s challenge: Determinism vs. Free Will.

Lucky Charm

It would be alright. He’d done this a hundred times before. Today he was guiding a group of geologists searching for an underground river in the caves beneath the Jokakichua mountain, or Dragon’s Head, named for its distinctive shape and it’s sudden “flames” of fog.

He knew the greenish algae-produced light helped adjust your senses to the surroundings; it felt eerie nonetheless. Irrelevantly, he wished he hadn’t lost his lucky charm.

Suddenly he stopped, senses on red alert. It was quiet, too quiet. Where was everybody? He heard a deep rasping breath, and felt a hot draft on his neck.

T.Mastgrave’s story challenge: Unnatural silence.

The Cartographer

He hated water. It was untidy. It moved around. You couldn’t pin it down, and that was his purpose in life. Measuring and charting, making sure everything had its proper place.

Now, continents moving or mountains rising – those were different things altogether. Those were fascinating. You could chart not only what was, but what would be!

But water was … flighty. He wished all water would evaporate off the face of the earth.

It would have incensed him to know that when his wish came true, the sun would melt his planet, leaving only foam floating on a sea of fire.

* * *

Inspired by T.Mastgrave’s story challenge: Cartography.

Neighbours

These humans were impossible, Mr. Hobson grumbled to himself. Just because a tree was dead, didn’t mean you cut it down. What business of theirs was it anyway?  He’d had human neighbours before, and sometimes they’d planted ivy or nasturtiums to cover his house. Bad enough, but cutting it down? Now his 3 story highly des res was gone, and he needed to find another place to live.

As he left he put a firecracker on his former neighbours’ step and lit it, just to let them know how angry he was.

He truly didn’t mean to burn their house down.

Razed to the ground.

This week’s story challenge: Seelie Court Fairies.