Vol. 3 Chap. 11 Introspection

Truth dreamed he was sitting in a small room, an office lined with books of mathematics and red-jacketed books of philosophy, heaps of papers on the desk, and heaps more in the rubbish bin on the floor. He was wearing a suit and tie. The Professor was too.

The Professor’s hair would only feign obedience to the hairbrush, flying away when unattended. The hair was wiry, white with that unfortunate tinge of yellow to it that made one wonder if it was the final echo of natural color or if the Professor’s pipe had permanently stained it with nicotine. The Professor was old, of course, but he gave one the impression of always having been old. Yet there was something to that flat, wide mouth and those eyes that were slightly too large for his face. Some mischief. Some sense of fun. This old man still loved life and was far from done with it.

“While I naturally applaud your desire to study modern and rigorously reasoned philosophy, I must discourage you from becoming my pupil. Or, indeed, even auditing my class. At least until you have the proper foundation in maths.”

“I can do long division in my head.” Truth aimed for humor and missed by a mile.

“Wonderful. I am so glad you mastered arithmetic. When do you think you will learn maths?”

“Well, that’s why I want to learn philosophy from you. I keep running into these… I don’t know what to call them. Given your specialty, I hesitate to call them “logic problems,” but that’s the best term I can use for them.

The Professor snorted. “I assure you, I call them logic problems too. And see far more of them than you do. Continue.”

“Well, the Stoics, for example, or Hobbes. Some very good advice for living, some wise observations. But then you run into issues like slavery, or women, or the fact that their philosophies claim to be based on a plainly wrong understanding of physics-”

The Professor nodded understandingly. “To say nothing of Plato and Aristotle, who did more between them to harm the development of rational thought and scientific development in the West than almost any other two people I could name. Plato badly harmed the Orient as well, even more than he damaged the West. Poor devils.”

“Right, or more recently Nietzsche and Schopenhauer… while they make some interesting observations…”

“Hold together about as well under logical analysis as the proverbial dandelion in a hurricane. Yes, I have written an entire book on the subject and endless monographs. But this is just the thing- in order to reach the truth, not some airy, fanciful “higher truth” or “personal truth,” but real, repeatable, verifiable, provable truth, your tool must be analysis. It must be logic. And if that is so, then you must understand mathematics. Real mathematics, not arithmetic.” The Professor’s lips quirked. Apparently, he found his statement a little funny. Truth didn’t get the joke and pressed on.

“But how do you get from mathematics to, say, ethics?”

“By strange coincidence, I teach an entire course on the subject. It seems that you would benefit from it. Once you have the proper foundation.”

“Professor!”

“Young man, I think you and I can agree that two and two is four.”

“Certainly.”

“Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why is two and two four?”

“Well… it is. I hold up two fingers, then another two fingers, and now I have four fingers.”

“Oh? What’s a finger? For that matter, what’s “two?” How do you define it? Can you define it without reference to something outside the concept of “two?” Can “two” prove itself? You understand we are still a long way from the thorny question (happily resolved now, you will be glad to know) of defining addition and demonstrating by logic that it does work as you think it does.”

The Professor leaned in, wide mouth faintly curving up into the sly hint of a smile. “Ethics then. Can you define “good?”

Truth rolled his eyes at that one. “I can’t. And I have read endless proposed definitions, most of them contradictory.” The Professor nodded at that, the grin widening.

“Just so. You couldn’t even define the components of “good,” I suspect. You may trust in empiricism, deciding that, as a personal matter, you will not lie or cheat or steal. Should the opportunity arise, you may set that as policy for those under your rule. But you could not prove to me, purely as a matter of logic, without resorting to emotional language, rhetoric, or other illogical persuasions, that such a standard of behavior was “good.”

“And to even make the attempt, I would need the background in logic, which would require training in mathematics.”

“Correct.”

Truth groped around for a moment, trying to find a way to express what he was feeling. “If there is a mathematically provable answer to goodness or ethics, wouldn’t the whole field of philosophy come to an end? Go home, everyone. We finally have all the answers?”

“Presumably that would be true but fortunately there is no chance of such a dull outcome.” The professor chuckled. “I can demonstrate with exacting logic that almost any given proposition is logically correct or incorrect. Certain paradoxes notwithstanding. Proving that a proposition is true is far, far harder. Look at your fingers again. We struggled for thousands upon thousands of years to even reach the point where we might try to define “Two.” We are still a long, long way from agreeing on what a “man” is or what he is for.”

“Presumably not to lie, cheat or steal.”

“I would agree with you, as would the two frauds I mentioned before. However,” The Professor leaned in and fixed truth with his too-big eyes. “By means of such phony, self-serving “logic” as their limited means permitted, those two would quite happily approve such things for the ruler of a city, seeing it as entirely ethically correct. A logical necessity, even.”

The Professor laughed softly, sitting back in his wooden chair. “We are entirely lost without rigorous logic. Everything devolves into mere theology, which is to say- nothing. But forgetting the human dimension, the real consequences of our mathematical conclusions? That’s not logical at all.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Truth woke up to the sound of the System screaming, something that didn’t bring him the pleasure it once did. It was a uniquely horrible thought- that pain could reach the soul. This wasn’t news, obviously; everyone knew of Heaven and Hell with more certainty than they knew about the neighboring city. But to have it so clearly underlined was horrible. Your body hurts, but your soul can be made to suffer far, far worse…

It happened again.

<<Yes, it fucking did! God DAMN it!>> The System went off ranting a string of profanity of its own invention, emphasizing guttural, raspy, and chopping noises and contrasting them unpleasantly with the sibilant and wet sounds. Truth waited patiently.

Out of curiosity, he turned his attention to his soul. He… didn’t really see the change. Was it more real? More perfect? Perhaps in some infinitesimal way. Honestly, how would he even tell? It looked right to him before, and it continued to look right. He didn’t even notice when the System was stamped out of his soul.

The thought brought him up with a sudden jerk. He had never noticed. Never even thought to look.

Hey System… if you are my soul, can I see you?

<<You haven’t so far.>>

Yeah, but can I?

<<Hell if I know.>>

Well, come on, front and center then. I’ll put my awareness right by my first Aperture.

There was a pause.

<<Got to admit, I didn’t think you would see nothing. Little hurtful, actually.>>

Nothing isn’t exactly right. More like… a sense of depth, or… I don’t know, solidity. There is definitely more there.

<<Hah. Well, all kidding aside, I had assumed you wouldn’t be able to see me. I mean, hundreds of thousands of Starbrite employees, millions of them over the years, and nobody went, “Hey, the System is actually part of your soul!” Something must be up there. Some core part of how I was made.>>

Yeah. Of course, that’s assuming that those people who did figure it out weren’t shut up somehow.

<<And on that cheery note, I did actually see something this time.>>

Truth sat up, ignoring the suddenly angry aches across his body. You did? What did you see?

<<Not your soul wandering off for happy-fun-times adventures, that’s for sure. Basically, it amounted to a little shake. Almost invisible, even for me. The thing that really grabbed my attention was that your nous also tweaked a bit. It got, from my perspective, noticeably more real.>>

Wait, what? Really? Show me.

<<Of course. It's right here.>>

Truth looked wildly around the numinous, mystic land of his soul and saw exactly dick all.

You are pointing right now, aren’t you? Even though you know I can’t see you.

<<Definitely not. I don’t have hands. Or anything resembling a body.>>

You bastard.

<<Funny you say that, I’m not at all sure Mom and Dad were married.>>

Me either. Don’t care, won’t care, where’s the damn nous?

<<It’s not a physical location.>> The System showed it was trying by not saying tacking on the words “you moron” even though they both knew it was thinking that. <<It’s the literal intersection of mind and soul, meaning it’s the part of your soul that overlaps with your mind the way the body overlaps with the soul. Which would logically mean that…>>

The System waited. And waited.

<<C’mon buddy, you got this!>>

I have no damn idea what you are talking about.

<<Oh, for fucksake! Your mind! The thing you think with! That lets you turn meat sensations from the world into ideas like food, mate, or idiot. Then there is the nous. Where “mind” overlaps with “your” “soul.” Letting you receive sensations from something without nerves, and understanding it visually, despite it not reflecting light at all. Do I have to spell it out for you?>>

Yes. Mostly because I have come back around to enjoying your suffering.

<<THE THING YOU OBSERVE YOUR SOUL WITH IS THE NOUS YOU BLITHERING IDIOT! YOU ARE TRYING TO CHECK YOUR VISION BY HAVING YOUR EYE LOOK INSIDE ITSELF!>>

You know what I haven’t had in ages? A full Jeon breakfast. Get some eggs, rice, toppings, obviously, fermented cabbage, and a bowl of soup. Get the whole spread.

<<Oh sure, stuff that wet meat hole with decaying matter. Grind it up with the stones you grew from soft flesh, suck the pap down the undulating cartilaginous feed tube to the acid hell of your guts where trillions of microscopic organisms will break down the dead paste into its most basic chemical components. The decay of matter accelerating within you to fuel your futile, humiliating efforts to avoid that same corruption and disintigration. How perfect a natural definition of humanity- That which derives satisfaction from its hopeless ruination of the world.>>

Truth paused for a moment, reflecting on that. He almost wanted to applaud.

Well, whatever. We have a lot to figure out today, and I’ll do it all the better on a full stomach. Truth helped himself to some of De’Ponte’s cash, then went out for breakfast.