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Avengers Endgame was glorious, iâll be back tomorrow with my feels but i gotta rest right now. Donât worry, Iâll have disclaimers for spoilers and all that.
I have decided to write a (rather dark) story for a philosophy project. We were given a list of philosophical concepts and had to use one as a sort of basis for this story. I decided to use game theory, which I will briefly explain.
Game theory is actually sort of a mathematical concept which is why I gravitated towards it. It analyzes our decisions when itâs codependent on other peopleâs decisions. Games that apply this include poker, chess and checkers. We try to estimate our opponentâs moves and our strategy is based on the otherâs response to our moves.
The aspect of game theory that I decided to apply in my story is actually based on a type of auction, where both the highest and second highest bidderâs money is taken away but only the highest bidder is given the object. Bidders will turn their attention away from the value of the object and instead, pay attention to getting the object, often causing the bidder to get ripped off. If anyone watched crazy rich asians, itâs summarized through the phrase, â playing to not lose as opposed to playing to winâ. The bidders try not to lose to each other, instead of winning, which is in this case, getting their moneyâs worth.
So my story is basically an extended metaphor of that auction. I am posting it here because it would mean the world to me if you guys could read through it and give me constructive criticism.
Sorry for the long explanation/rant. Storyâs below if anyoneâs still interested.
Until I Reach the Light
It's impossible.
Thatâs what I was told by the dejected, old man sitting in the corner of the cell. At least, thatâs all he ever said. The rest of us can only assume that heâs referring to escape.
We still tried though. We had to. Some of us missed our family, others just wanted fresh air. Either way, we all knew that we didnât want to rot away in this cell. Of course, we had to plan our escape. Necessary information was slowly gained through painfully long interrogations with the old man.
This is everything we managed to get him to reveal:
We have to fight each other to the death.
This wasnât a problem. I simply woke up in this room with my new roommates. We couldnât figure out our similarities and even though we tried to be civil with each other, we never became friends so there was never a sense of loyalty. I was sure I was not the strongest, smartest or luckiest, but there werenât any rules so I was sure there were ways to work through my weaknesses.
2. We have to fight the solitary guard at the door of this prison and itâs impossible to win against him in one on one combat.
Our collective thought was thereâs only one? What kind of monster- But we were desperate so we convinced ourselves that the old man had probably gone mad and that the prowess of this guard was probably overestimated. After all, there was more than one of us in this cell. We believed we could beat him.
3. Only one of us is getting out.
We repressed this information. We didnât think it was important. More importantly, we thought it didnât make sense. There was definitely another way.
Once we couldnât get anymore information from the old man, we headed out. It was comically easy. Some higher entity simply knew we were ready and a wall opened.
The new room which appeared to us looked more like a grave than an arena. Roughly 10m long and wide, it was completely empty safe the writing on the wall: âThe door opens when the ground is covered in blood.â
âLetâs not fightâ. A voice came from the left of me. We all turned to face them. âLetâs just ⌠cut ourselves with some small wounds and try to cover the ground. Bloodâs liquid, thereâs a lot of us, we can do itâ. So we got to work.
âŚ
It was not enough, far from enough. When the realization hit us in our light-headed state, a voice appeared in the back of our mind. Fight it said and it kept getting louder and louder and louder- then one of us punched another and it all broke down into chaos. Hands flew, blood spilled and the chanting kept getting louder and louder until it was not just in our mind anymore. At some point, the words morphed into kill, kill, kill, kill and we could not help but obey. Blood was everywhere, it covered the groundăźwait, it covered the ground. The realization rung cold and clear as the chanting suddenly stopped and the surviving few backed away from the pile of bodies.
There were three of us. One was so weak, they tripped over another body, fell to the ground and an echoing crack was heard.
Now there was two. Another wall opened behind me and natural light streamed down from a hole at the top. There was no guard in sight. We both walked closer and we peered up at the sole source of natural light. It was about 3 metres up and it became clear what the old man meant by only one person getting out. One person had to use the other to get out, leaving the one at the bottom trapped in the dungeon. Of course, maybe the person that made it out can find civilization, or rope, and free the trapped person, assuming-
I didnât get an opportunity to finish my thoughts. Instead, the person beside me lunged at my throat and I got tackled to the ground.
âStop, stop-â I tried to halt their assault so we could discuss the logistics of both of us leaving but they clamped a hand over my mouth and pressed down on my throat. Iâm not going to die, not like this I decided before a surge of adrenaline raced through me and I kicked them off. As they rolled off me, I noticed just how much they were bleeding. They fell on their back, eyes glazed over and never got up.
âŚ
I tried to pile up the corpses so I could climb up to get out but there werenât enough bodies to form a high enough hill. All I could do was sit at the base and ponder at what could have been my escape.
Thoughts ran through me at the speed of light. Whereâs the guard? Technically, if more than two of us made it into the last room, wouldnât more than 1 person be able to escape? Whatâs the point of making us fight?Who put us through all this?
At the same speed, answers flooded in. If more than one of us made it into the last room, we wouldâve came to the same conclusion that one person wouldnât have made it out. We wouldâve fought to not be that person except that every person who died fighting would be one less person who can stand at the bottom. There wouldâve been only one left anyways.
As for the guard, at first I thought that it must have found us so weak and impulsive that it let us duel it out amongst ourselves instead of getting involved. I realized a moment later that maybe the guard wasnât a physical thing at all. Maybe the one thing that was guarding us from making it out was just human impulsiveness . We wouldâve fought until there was no more chance of survival instead of letting at least one person see their family again. Maybe, they couldâve even saved the other eventually. At the very least, they couldâve told the other family their farewells. If there was just one of us left, well, there wouldâve been no impulse to act upon, but there wouldâve been no chance of escaping.
As I stared at the top corpse, the one of the second last survivor, I concluded that I wouldâve been the bottom person if they just allowed me to speak. Alas, they didnât give me that chance and I might not have felt as merciful at that particular moment. Plus, all these what-ifs and would-haves are futile now.
And the mastermind behind all this? Well, was it important? Wasnât the bigger problem that we didnât realize that it was us, the prisoners, verses that mastermind and not us against each other?
The old manâs corpse was at the bottom of the pile; I donât know when he died. His words ring in my ears: Itâs impossible. Was escaping actually impossible or was this just his conclusion from past experience? Was he the one survivor from the last time?
Anyways, I have until the end of my time to reflect.
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âMaybe if I erase these lines of code and then type them out again without changing anything this error will disappear.â *error disappears*
*whispers* âI hate you so much.â
Prof says he'll grade students on a curve, so they organize a boycott of the exams and all get As
Johns Hopkins Computer Science prof Professor Peter FrĂśhlich grades his students on a curve: the highest score on the final gets an A and everyone else is graded accordingly.
Clever students in FrĂśhlichâs âIntermediate Programmingâ, âComputer System Fundamentals,â and âIntroduction to Programming for Scientists and Engineersâ figured out that this meant that if they all boycotted the exam, theyâd all get As.
So they organized a boycott, milling around the hall outside the class where the exams were being sat, sternly reminding each other that if no one sat the exam theyâd all get straight As, ignoring FrĂśhlichâs pleas to come and sit the exam.
FrĂśhlich praised his studentsâ solidarity: âThe students learned that by coming together, they can achieve something that individually they could never have done. At a school that is known (perhaps unjustly) for competitiveness I didnât expect that reaching such an agreement was possible.â
He told a bunch of PROGRAMMING students that he was going to grade on a curve.
PROGRAMING.
Like half of programming is looking at sorting algorithms and asking âwhat could break this?â They looked at the grading algorithm (curve grading) and noticed âif every grade is the same, everything is at the top of the listâ and âthe easiest way to get all the grades to be the same is to set them all to zero.â
Of course the professor praised them. He may have taught them the exact type of logic that had them organize the boycott in the first place. They found a bug in his grading system and loudly exploited it.
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