Argus (Real Author Somehow)

Nothing is more fascinating to readers than the what-ifs and maybes, and a character who died before their big important thing was done? Well that thing can linger in the narrative for a long time, a constant reminder of who’s missing and what happened.

Anyway yes I have better ideas.

The thing about the colors in Magic is that they’re not uniform. They never have been, and I know for a fucking fact that Rosewater knows that, because he’s worked on Eldraine. A world where black is filled with knights going on daring and risky quests to win a queen’s hand in Addams Family style very-lethal marriage, and white is filled with authoritarian demands for compliance at the cost of compassion. So it’s kind of silly to look at each color as being ‘just one thing’.

So how do they, and their different incarnations, approach the trolley problem? At least, according to me, a totally legitimate source?

White doesn’t react. Not to the problem itself. The trains have been safe so far, designed well, always on time. The idea that the problem has occurred is either a freak accident, or a malicious attack, and it isn’t prepared to make a snap-decision. That’s not what white does. It planned out a civil order, and the disruption of that order isn’t something it can cope with. In the aftermath, new safety features will be introduced, not out of fear but out of determination to prevent a repeat, and the rate of trolley problems will be permanently reuced. Track unchanged, five dead.

Blue rejects the idea that there is a dichotomy of choice. Pull a switch to decide who lives and who dies? Arbitrary mechanics are for theoretical discussions, and theory never survives contact with the real world. Blue is the color of decision, and it is never satisfied with a simple yes or no, unless the ‘no’ is being dictated to someone else. There are always options. Always spells that can change the situation. Temporary flight, intangibility, short range teleportation, even simple telepathy to warn down the track. Blue tries a half dozen things that do not involve the lever, and it probably works, in a way. But none of those choices stop the runway trolley, and so while none of the ethical targets are harmed, there are still consequences. Track unchanged, three dead, but none of them the ones tied to the tracks.

Black rejects the idea that there is someone forcing it to make a choice. Pull a switch to decide who lives and dies? Energizing, yes, but black didn’t make the switch. Someone put it there and forced a hand onto it, and nothing pisses off black like being told it has to do anything. And what is the point of having power if you don’t use it to spite theoretical ethicists who would pretend they own you? The trains were built with blood and bone, after all, and that power still lingers. Black will not obey the test, but the train will obey black, and this sham of an experiment stops now. Track unchanged, no deaths, but someone already paid the price.

Red sees the train as an object of freedom. Open travel, for anyone? And at speed, even! It is majestic, and glorious, and coating it in blood and death would ruin the mood. More than that, it’s disgusting to deprive anyone of freedom, especially the poor idiots tied to the track. But fire eats ropes and pure speed moves legs, just as well as fire fuels the engine and speed turns gears, and everyone can get clear without impeding the grand beast. Though maybe pull the lever anyway just to see where the other track goes. Track changed, none dead, though several singed and at least one pair of pants immolated entirely.

Green sees the train, the tracks, the switch, and the victims, all as intruders. There is no such thing as ethics, there is only the natural push and pull of territory. Life and death, growth and decay, the train and the tied up lives are not separate from these things, they are just more players in the game of ecosystem. Green doesn’t make a choice, though it will mourn the dead, and delight in the life that springs from their passing. Track unchanged, five dead.

In another world, white sees the train out of control, and a hero steps in. A shining figure in pure armor, made strong through righteousness and impervious through belief. There is no need to choose when there is a better way, a kinder way, a heroic way. Track unchanged, no deaths, one hero injured, which may mean something tomorrow for the next train.

In another world, blue is presented the choice, and begins to calculate. One is less than five, yes, but variables exist in all things. What is the value of each life? Ages, education, careers, what is their total worth? Is it ethical to decide the value of living? No. But it is not ethical to participate at all, and yet, blue is the color of reality, and it must face the truth that it cannot save everyone. The lever is not pulled. Track unchanged, the most important life survives.

In another world, black is given the lever, and told who is on the tracks. Someone they know is among the five. There is no hesitation or even really a decision to be made. Thinking about it later will bring guilt, pain, and loathing. Thinking further will bring anger and a bitter hate that will mean something quite bad for whoever arranged the test. But now, there is someone who black cares for, and that is all that matters. Track changed, one dead, more dead later when black catches up to the proctor.

In another world, red is given the lever, and wonders why anyone bothered. This train is their creation, a golem construct of stone and lightning, elemental in all ways and chained to red’s will. It cannot go ‘out of control’, because it only exists as part of the expression of control over the elements of nature themself. The train stops. Track unchanged, zero dead.

In another world, green is given the lever, and told to choose, and its heart breaks. All life is precious, and it is unthinkable to cut short any living thing, especially with a vile piece of machinery. Green rejects the choice, but more than that, it rejects the assault of structured control upon the living world. The train rusts, metal flaking away. Wheels are threaded with roots and ground to a halt. The flame in the engine is smothered by life giving waters, the steam released to be little more than a temporary hint of rain. The wood of the tracks becomes nests for termites and ants, the spikes and rails lasting longer until they are gone, but devoid of mechanical context. Track removed, zero dead now, though all things pass in time.

Somewhere else, white doesn’t even look at the lever. The train has a schedule, and it runs on time. If anyone is on the tracks, that is an individual problem, and white does not deal in the individual. It deals in society, in civilization, as a unit. The state is the person, the nation is the center of value. Some may die, but they are pieces of the whole, and they are replaceable. The bumps are statistical. Track unchanged to prevent delays, five dead today.

Somewhere else, blue’s choice becomes an infinite web of debate. Ethics is, at its core, the process of thinking about the world, and the meaning that is ascribed to it, and blue does so love meaning and scribing in equal measure. It is possible to lose sight of reality in the depth of the question, in the sea of reasons for the two options. What does it mean, after all, to make a choice? What does it mean to engage with the world? To blue, now, it means that an imperfect option is better than no option. Track diverted, one dead.

Somewhere else, black raises an eyebrow and watches the train with eager anticipation. One of their enemies is among the five, and black would have pulled the lever to divert the train back if it had somehow skipped tracks. What is a little cost in blood - other people’s blood, of course - to remove an obstacle from the board? Not only that, but there is a resource among the dead. Their wealth, perhaps, or some aspect of their ‘souls’, if such things exist, or even just their bones if all that doesn’t matter. Track unchanged, five dead, though it wasn’t personal for four of them.

Somewhere else, red has the lever and the choice for only a few seconds before it has broken both of them. The train fails to divert, but also fails to stay on its own track. Something has gone wrong, but ‘wrong’ is a matter of perspective. Perhaps it is better to say, red has caused something to go ‘interesting’. The maneuver is reckless, passionate without thought behind it, and ultimately, causes more damage than it prevents. But they were never told to prevent damage, and even if they were, red would break that command just like the lever itself. Track… altered, none dead, seventy one passengers injured, one month of train repairs required.

Somewhere else, green keeps peaceful watch on the thing that others might call a ‘train’. The tracks are a footpath, the lever is a branch that means nothing, because there is no need in green’s world for any of the factors that would cause the hypothetical. Speed is a matter for those who need to rush, dichotomies are for those who have trapped themselves. The people tied up ahead of the train-beast are, at best, humoring the proctor. The bindings are living rope, and the harmony of life means they are only as constrained as they wish to be. Perhaps for one or more, this is a method of deliberate passing, but for green, making a choice, it is a simple matter of nudging the vibrant world into a more harmonious form. Tracks were never here, zero dead that did not wish it.

Elsewhere, white is tied to a series of rail tracks. One decision is out of their hands, but white is not a color that gives in to despair. Whether it will work, or not, they begin to form a shield. For themself, or for the others around them, futile or not, white is defiant right up until the moment the train makes it moot. They hope that someone with recognizable sanity is holding the lever. If green makes the choice, then at least white’s possible death will have some utility. If blue does, then they trust that their neighbor will make the right call and not kill them personally at all. But neither black nor red can be trusted with consistency, and so if it is them… well. White will find out too late.

Elsewhere, blue is tied to a series of rail tracks. The decision is out of their hands, but attempting to confine the master of decisions is a fool’s errand. Blue is nothing if not capable of turning knowledge into tricks, and there are so many ways out of this that it may as well not be a test. Academically, they regret interfering, but practically, blue has already dispelled the bindings. If it were a friendly face of white, or an ambitious face of black, they could maybe take the gamble on a nap. But no one ever knows what disorganized wildness is present in green or red, and until that wilderness of ethics can be studied, blue doesn’t want to find out up close and in person.

Elsewhere, black is tied to a series of rail tracks. The decision is technically out of their hands, but black’s presence here is likely a consequence for something. After all, a price must always be paid, and sometimes, the price can no longer be offloaded onto others. They look, hoping they are at the back of the five, with bodies to put in between themself and death, but black is dismayed to find themself alone. Which means they can’t trust white, who will choose the ‘kind’ option of sparing the most people, nor green, who thinks that ‘life is precious’ and would arrive at the same decision. Blue might help, if black could offer something of value, and red, well, red would do it for the sake of their friendship alone. But no matter what happens, black is going to come out of this angrier than they went in.

Elsewhere, red is tied up, and that is enough to make red want to start with fire, move up to lightning, pass through geomancy and hydrokinesis, and quickly work up to just throwing explosions around until this situation resolves itself. There is, somewhere, a train. But red doesn’t plan to play by the rules that says they have to be on the track when the train arrives. When the game is unfair to you, stop playing the game. White doesn’t understand that mood, and while it understands the utility of violence, it can’t be trusted to not write red off as a risk. Blue is similar, but less self-aggrandizing about it. Black and green might help, just because they often share aspects of freedom, but more than almost any other color, red finds itself on its own a lot.

Elsewhere, green is tied to train tracks. They struggle, as any living animal would. They plan, as a druid might. They beg, as one with faith often does. But in the end, it is just their connection to the world against the train’s connection to their body, and the rule of force is a hard one to ignore. They hope that the fires in the train, either of civilization or of freedom, will understand that they do not want to die, though white and red often disagree on exactly why one should strive to live. Blue feels so distant, that green wouldn’t really trust it alone to feel the living world. Black is similarly too turned inward. Though at least, if green dies, black can make use of the body.

And for many trains, there is a simple switch that stops the process entirely. Colorless doesn’t really care what the train is used for, but it would prefer, overall, that the phrase ‘out of control’ never enter the equation.

And more. So many more. Worlds beyond counting, trains of every make and model and some weirder variables besides. Each color wears a mask to its fellows, often to match their own masks in some way. Though they would all perhaps say that the mask they wear for themselves is their true form. But the truth is there is no true form. Each one has its own expression of so many ideas. Primal or civilized, selfish or heroic, cruel or kind, every color knows how to do them all in their own way.

Maybe this is why Rosewater’s post was kind of myopic and clipped. Maybe the guy whose job is shaping all these worlds didn’t have time to express all the various values and virtues and vices of the fragments those worlds call magic. After all, this took me an hour I should have been spending writing something else.

They’re the fucking worst.

In order to be interesting a story has to have something to say. But no one ever stipulated it had to say something that didn’t make you want to explode.