Page 54 of Resist Me Not
“No, no,” Chester pipes up, a fellowship doctor who is pursuing vascular surgery, and is unapologetically a huge nerd. “Spock didn’t advocate killing someone to save others. He sacrificed himself. In the Trolley Problem, you don’t have that option. It’s either do nothing, and let the train barrel over five people, or switch tracks and actively kill one person to save the others. The active part, the choice is the problem.”
“Is it a problem?” I ask, and morbid as the question may be, the drinks flowing between everyone tonight has most of the room looking encouragingly contemplative. “Is letting someone die or even making sure they die the better option sometimes if you know they make life worse for other people?”
“You’re talking aboutMonster,” Laura says with a giggle.
“Monster?”
“This old manga. It was an anime too, but it’s about a doctor who chooses to save a kid instead of this high-up official he’s supposed to and ends up getting fired over it. Totally ruins his life, but he thinks he made the moral call instead of advancing his career.” Laura’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she pauses to sip from her drink. Once she is sure she has everyone on pins and needles to hear the obviously coming twist, she continues, “Then later, the kid grows up to be a serial killer. The doctor’s selfless act actually made things worse for more people.”
“Wait, but in that example,” Ben jumps in again, “he couldn’t have known the kid would grow up to be a killer. Walker’s talking about if youdidknow and acted on it, like… ‘accidentally’ giving the wrong IV drip to a member of the KKK.”
“Which would be totally illegally and ethically bankrupt!” Chester protests.
“Butreallysatisfying,” someone else mutters, and the room fills with laughter again.
“It’s just a thought experiment,” I remind Chester—even if it isn’t and my immortal soul may be on the line. “But that is the question, isn’t it? If you had the chance to stop a monster, a serial killer even before they killed again, would it or would it not be more moral to save the many?”
“Depends on who they’re killing,” Laura says succinctly—and doesn’t that just sober me up quick. “InMonster, he’s, well, a monster. But if he had grown up to kill pedophiles or something… eh.” She shrugs.
“Agreed,” Ben snorts.
“Fair,” someone else says, and a filtering of like-minded responses follow.
Even Chester adds, “I suppose if Dexter was real, going around taking out the worst of society who the justice system misses, I’d probably turn a blind eye.”
A room full of doctors, and not a single voice speaks up to say the opposite.
Honestly, I’ve always thought the same thing, but it isn’t as easy to take that stance when the thought experiment is real.
“Just a philosophical discussion, right, Walker?” Laura elbows me. “Not planning on prematurely pulling any plugs, I hope?”
“I’ve never met anyone I’d even consider it over,” I answer honestly, “but with our fellowships just starting, one never knows.”
Laura, Ben, and several others laugh. The good thing about everyone else being at least two drinks in is no one seems to think it’s weird that I brought this up. I actually think it sparks several separate conversations: one onDexter, one onStar Trek, and one on classic manga, so you’re welcome, everybody.
I’m still not sure if I got the answer I wanted. It’s easy to root for the morally gray hero when you’re not the one staring at their handy work that just fell out of a closet.
I down the rest of my drink and excuse myself to make another. I have my inhaler. Maybe tonight’s a good night to get drunk after all.
I do—not sloppy drunk, but grateful I don’t have a car and can call for someone else to bring me home drunk. For those few blissful hours at the party, I manage to not think about Trey or the problem of Spock on a trolley with a serial killer or whatever and just enjoy myself.
It is a sobering slap to the face to open my apartment door and findmyproblem waiting for me.
Trey is fussing in my kitchen and looks at me over his shoulder with a grin.
He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow at the earliest.
I did give him a key, and he used it to surprise me with…
“Did you make espresso?” I say with hopefully only a slight slur. “I think I’ve used that machine, like, all of two times in five years.
“Really? Such a waste.” Trey’s deep voice makes my insides feel hot. “It is the perfect digestif, especially with a splash of Campari to accompany the chocolate covered cherries I got for you from one of my assignment locations.”
He comes out of the kitchen with this perfect little espresso tray—a long plate with two steaming cups and an assortment of… wait. Are those…?
“Forgive the novelty,” Trey says as he sets the platter on the coffee table, “but the shop’s goal with these particular confections is to give new meaning to the term popping one’s cherry.”
I belt out such a big guffaw, it almost shakes me sober.
