The Best of All Possible Worlds

“Do you notice any difference?”

“They're all unique.” Robert said, as he alternated his attention from one terminal to another, and another, and another.

“Here at the Institute for the Generation of Development we pride ourselves on our ability to push the bounds of philosophic study through creation,” said Wells.

“That's why I'm here. To investigate the possibilities of your work, and for the job posting.”

“But you won't understand it right away. These men and women,” and he gestured at the technicians working their computers in the chamber, each of them beside a viewing terminal, “are dedicated to discovering the perfect world. Gottfried Leibniz once said that we must live in the best of all possible worlds. He thought he knew enough to dare the statement, but our enterprise proves it false. With our sophisticated technology we're able to design artificial worlds with people as real as you or I, and alter the conditions to discover the perfect world.”

“I hope it's one that we would like to live in ourselves.”

“Exactly!”

“And have you found one?”

“Let me show you this world over here,” Wells said as he steered Robert to a bundle of machinery comprised of both massive and minuscule parts. He knew his visitor could comprehend nothing of its purpose simply by looking at it, so as he explained as he attached electrodes and the headset.

“What I'm doing is connecting you to this particular system, or world. It's actually more correct to call it a different universe. While your physical body will, of course, remain here, your soul...”

“Soul,” said Robert, “what about science?”

Wells, as the director of this prestigious institute, found one's occupation often required ignoring insufferable foolishness, and he waited for the other's laughter to subside before continuing.

“You mustn't misunderstand me, sir. You probably have a conception of the soul from the writings of Plato or perhaps the Bible, but we don't mean that. We've blended the theory of Descartes' dualism with Spinoza's monism and rigorously tested our combinationalism. I couldn't explain it to you, you haven't the background, but in a very simplified manner it would be most correct to say there exists only matter and energy, and in the energy traversing the matter of your brain, is you. When you enter the alternate universe we've created, a tiny fraction of energy from your body will be transferred and the body here, will be come like a zombie. It will breath, eat, defecate, and be able to perform basic functions, but no one wold mistake it for you.”

Robert smashed his fist upon a console, and every technician turned their head toward the noise.

“I am not going, anywhere.”

The director wasn't sure how to reply, whether to agree, though it wasn't the truth, or to argue and potentially ruin the project. He stood with a polite smile on his face.

“So, how does this work?” said Robert at last.

“We've harnessed the indescribable computing power of post-modern technology, and with it construct a number of self contained universes. They have their own unique physics, mathematics, and the derived scientific laws. All it takes is imagination. But the serious work is being done in human social studies. With infinite malleability we've been able to devise control groups, and variations to test the behaviors of humanity.”

“Humans? You can't create biological creatures. They're just simulations,” said Robert.

“I know you don't believe me, but inside our creation everything is as real as you and me.”

“But how could you create people? You may convince me you have the ability to sustain a myriad of alternative universes, but how can you assure me that those people are human? We don't have a mathematical formula or program for humans. Biology, chemistry, and all the sciences can point to only some of the details, but only some, and those components don't add up to a person. They create a compost of chemicals.”

“I'm not going to argue with you. I need to prove my point,” said Wells and without further speech he pointed to a technician, placed the final electrode on himself, and flipped a switch.

“Did you know,” he said to the bewildered Robert, as they stood on a lush green field, lit by a brightly shining sun, “that philosophers, politicians, sociologists, and religious leaders have been debating the cause of war since humanity stumbled into its first conflict. Someone once said that the only justified war is one where you've been attacked first.”

“What have you done? Where are we?” Robert waved his arms wildly, outstretched as if to catch and tear down the illusion which separated him from the control room.

“Most people would agree with this statement, but I feel our studies have proven otherwise.”

Robert was on his knees, tearing out clumps of sod and grass. He found a rock and raised a welt on his arm.

“Can you collect yourself, and look around?”

From his prone position Robert said, “It's not VR, or it's more real than any VR I've ever seen.”

“Of course its not. Look.”

Robert saw, with head raised from the grass, a congregation of houses was perched on a rise a hundred yards away. He began to walk towards it, but Wells held him back.

“You can't go there.”

“Let go,” Robert said as he pushed the hand aside.

“You haven't been properly trained,” said Wells in his capacity as director of the institute.

“And I don't...” Robert said, but then he noticed the gun in the director's hand.

“What about the village looks different to you? You should be able to observe it from here.”

Robert looked, and he saw the stone houses with thatched roofs, and people moving about with crude tools.

“They look like black smiths, nobles, and peasants.”

“They are. But that's a fact, not a difference. Notice what's missing.”

“There are no children.”

“The statement, a defensive war is a just war imagines a need for an aggressor, and assumes there is one to be found. But if there isn't?”

“Children don't start wars.”

“They do! Not of their own accord. But the only just war is one for a man to feed his family. Scarcity of resource for survival, not greed, nor decadence, nor indulgence, but basic sustenance causes the only justified conflicts. We discovered this incidentally. Unlike the God of the Old Testament we kept restricting the freedom of our subjects. In this way they are unlike the humanity of Earth. We eliminated the vices of greed, envy, and wrath, and more. Yet war continued. We pruned personal characteristics considered beneficial, such as kindness and justice. But war appeared just as surely. But these people have lived without families for twelve thousand years since their Agricultural Revolution. They have never known war.”

“They have peace?”

“They have most of the interpersonal conflicts of our world, but without war. They are virtuous people without the overwhelming emotion desire to provide for their offspring.”

“Because they have none.”

“And in the event of famine they suffer noble, sacrificing for the community, and dying without complaint. We found they can do it, but no one could allow their own children even the slightest chance of death. Men would kill every last villain, cut down every last tree, shoot every last tiger, and catch every last fish, if only they could provide for, build for, protect, and feed their children. It is the ultimate selfishness of mankind that nothing would stand in the way of a parent's care for their progeny.”

“But a world without children?”

“They are content and know nothing else.”

“And you believe this is the best of all possible worlds?”

“For humanity, maybe. It is the beginning of a study to find a world we could recreate in our own. Studies in alternative physics are too theoretical. But we could alter people and shape society to be like this.”

“The irony is that you will attempt to build a perfect society on a hundred studies of millions of people who lack the freedom we do. Its no different than any of the totalitarian dictators of our past. And no children!”

“You said they weren't real people.”

“You want to do it to us.”

“You're right. And you're here for a job,” Wells said brandishing the pistol again. “I said you weren't to go over to the village. But now that I've explained almost everything I'll provide the conclusion. The job you came for. We want you to become part of the village and live there for five years. We'll check on you and you can tell us how it is.”

“I don't want it. Not anymore.”

“Too bad.”

“I could wreck your entire experiment if I wanted to.”

“Not likely, we have a hundred others just like it.”

Then Wells was standing in the large chamber full of machines composed of metal and plastic. Beside him a limp body, plugged into a number of tubes and electrodes, sat in a chair.

“We'll have to devise a way to provide it some exercise,” he said to no one in particular, “He's going to be there quite a long time.”