The Will
On a hot spring day in June, a crowd gathered to entertain a developing spectacle. The subject of the spectacle was a man, loud and proud, who was enthusiastically orating outside of the local city hall. From a distance, though he could not be heard, one could nonetheless deduce his passionate tone from his wild gesticulations, his arms punctuating each sentence with exclamation. Moving closer, the content of his speech could be made out.
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He stood a few steps above the crowd. Directing a megaphone towards his lips, he shouted, “We cannot stand for this preposterous legislation! We have given up too much ground in recent years. We must draw the line somewhere! I suggest we draw it here, and defend it, or else, who knows what’s next?”
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A newcomer to the crowd, confused without the appropriate context, turned to a nearby citizen for assistance. “Excuse me, what is he talking about?” She then pointed to the man with the megaphone, even though the subject of her question was already obvious; the point primarily served as a gesture of intentional disrespect.
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The nearby man turned to answer. “Ah, he’s a fool! He’s protesting the new law that promotes affordable housing for disadvantaged members of our community.” He re-directed his complaints to the orating man, with whom he was apparently familiar. “Hey, Lucas, get out of here! Stop with all this nonsense. You’ve seen all the homeless people in the street. You know this is necessary legislation.”
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Lucas smirked when he realized who had spoken. “Paul, I would expect nothing less from you.” He puffed his chest, preparing to pontificate to the crowd. “You see, ladies and gentlemen, right here is a perfect example of why we cannot proceed with this legislation. This man,” he pointed to Paul, “is fortunate enough to be the son of two very wealthy parents. After starting — or attempting to start, I should say — a business out of college, he quickly realized that there was more to starting a business than simply wanting to start a business!” A few laughs surfaced in the crowd. Somebody among them exclaimed, “That’s common these days, so I don’t doubt it!”
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Paul flushed crimson in embarrassment.
Lucas continued, energized by the crowd’s approval, “And so, after squandering all of his money in a matter of weeks on recreational drugs and other petty indulgences, what does he do? Well, he goes back to his parents, of course, and asks for more! And then, you guessed it, he squanders that money too! And so he goes back again, and the loop repeats itself, and all the while he never doubts his ability to receive payment shall he fail once again, as he inevitably will. Now, educated members of our wonderful community, I know I don’t have to explain why this story represents something disastrous to society, but, nevertheless, I will make my point clear.”
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The crowd leaned forward, determined to catch every word of the man’s analysis; evidently, they did require explanation as to what the story represented about society.
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He cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen.”
He paused for effect.
“We are all different; that is obvious enough. But in what precise ways are we different?”
The question lingered in the air.
“We may differ in height, we may differ in weight, and perhaps we may even differ in intelligence. But there is one trait for which God blesses every man and every woman with equal abundance and vitality. And I simply call this trait: the will… The will is what separates us from the animals. It is the ability to see two diverging paths and choose which one is the correct one to follow. As those of you who are familiar with psychological research will already know, a rat in a cage will mindlessly press a button to continuously receive a drug reward, even at the expense of food or water; that is, the rat will eventually die simply because it cannot restrain its hedonistic impulse. We humans do not face this problem. We opt for water once we recognize it as the intelligent option. Or, at least, most of us do.” He glared at Paul, who shrunk before his gaze. The crowd collectively chuckled with glee. “The will — this incredible gift — also allows us to manage the amount of effort we put into a task. If I were to, I don’t know, start a business, let’s say, I would be able to defer my commitment to other more trivial pursuits and direct all of my energy to the more noble endeavor. Any failure due to a lack of priorities or a lack of effort represents a misallocation or a misuse of the will, and I cannot imagine a more grave injustice to the gift that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom.”
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The crowd thoroughly enjoyed the way Lucas spoke; they felt, simply by listening to the development of his argument, that they themselves were engaging in an intellectually difficult task, and perhaps that they themselves were speaking and crafting these arguments. They generously applauded themselves for their work and readied for the conclusion.
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“Now, surely we can agree that we really must, as a society, prioritize the will.” The crowd nodded. “And is it not plainly obvious that this new legislation predisposes the members of our wonderful — and I really mean truly wonderful — community to act in a way that suppresses the will? Not only does one lose motivation when they can be assured of financial assistance in the case that they fail (remember our business example, my friends), but may I ask who funds these financial assistance programs? Well, of course, it is those who have been successful, those who have diligently cultivated their will, and those who wish to reap the rewards of their prospering. If we take away their well-deserved rewards, they too lose motivation and the will degenerates. I will not stand for it!”
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The crowd roared and cheered delightfully. “He’s right, you know,” someone said, turning to their neighbor. Another stated, “I always knew why this legislation was no good; I just could never articulate it as well as he did!”
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Lucas elegantly descended the steps and waltzed through the crowd, receiving many pats on the back from satiated citizens. “Thank you, sir,” a woman said as Lucas headed home.
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He traveled a few blocks, and his house came into view. Crossing the street, still immersed in a world of self-congratulation, he barely processed a bellowing sound to his left. A car struck him, and he was dead.
His vision was blurry as he began to awaken, a bright light emanating from the ceiling. A chemical smell invaded his nostrils causing an unpleasant sensation in his throat, and he could only just make out a distant buzzing sound. “Where the hell am I?” Attempting to move, he came to the terrifying realization that his body was in a state of near-complete paralysis. Instinctively, he clenched his fists and felt linen in his palms, soft and inviting. Looking down, his outfit startled him, as he was draped in a moss green hospital gown. A shot of adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he felt his breathing rate elevate. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand — evidently, he still had control of his outermost extremities. “Oh, God.”
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A face came into his line of view, equipped with a turquoise mask and matching medical cap, and gazed into his eyes.
“This one’s awake!”
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The voice shocked Lucas, as its coarse, scratchy tone belied the warm eyes and skin it accompanied. He struggled to move once more but to no avail.
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Another voice to his left yelled, “We can use this one for the experiment. Just run a quick genomic scan to ensure compatibility with the procedure.”
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The face with the medical mask, presumably a doctor of sorts, nodded in affirmation and shuffled to a computer to the left of the bed, Lucas’ eyes following him all the while like heat-seeking missiles. The doctor’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the sound of each successive click merging with the one before. “How is he typing so fast? Nobody can type that fast.” The doctor’s breakneck typing speed increased further as if to spite the man's disbelief. His fingers completed a few additional lightning keystrokes and, after one final tap, the computer emitted a resonant and grandiloquent tone, seemingly signaling the completion of something monumental.
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“Mr. Lucas, how are you doing today?”
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He jumped at the mention of his name. “How do you know my name?” His voice shook as he spoke; prior to speaking, he was unsure whether his paralysis rendered his voice ineffective, and, hearing the success of his speech, he felt somewhat reassured.
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“Your name,” the doctor responded, pleased at the question. “Don’t worry about how I know your name. It’s a nice name, though, Lucas. Very fitting, indeed.”
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“What the hell are you talking about? Who are you… where am I… what is this place?”
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The doctor chuckled. “Let’s run a quick test, Lucas. I’m going to ask you for your name; all I want you to do is respond with your name. We will repeat this process for a few rounds. Let’s begin with round one.” The doctor tapped a button on his keyboard. “What is your name?”
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Lucas did not respond, offended by the superfluousness of the question. A few minutes passed in silence. He waited for the doctor to say something, anything — to at least repeat the question, but the masked face remained motionless in front of the computer screen. At last, Lucas had no choice but to fill the unbearable silence.
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“Come on now. Let’s not do this, please. I may be in a state of confusion, but I have an inkling of where I am. Whatever you must do, do it. Let’s get on with it. Don’t bore me with these trivialities. That’s all I ask.”
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The doctor waited a few seconds and then answered, “I’m sorry, sir, but that is not the answer we were looking for.” The doctor pressed a key.
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At the press of the key, a burning, painful sensation filled Lucas’ abdomen. Traveling upwards, a million embers of fire intertwined with the alveoli of his lungs, squeezed up his esophagus, diverged into two paths at his chin, and finally rested at the temples on either side of his clenched eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see bright hues of orange, yellow, and red; he tried to shut his eyes tighter, with so much effort that at any moment he was sure his eyelids would turn in on themselves and release his eyeballs from their sockets, but the colors only became more vivid. A minute more of the torture ensued. At its termination, Lucas became hysterical.
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“What the hell was that for?” he shouted, enraged. “Because I didn’t give you my name? Really? You know my name! You’ve used it multiple times! What kind of sick joke is this?” He intended to turn and spit at the doctor at the computer in one swift motion to express his discontent, but, as his state of paralysis had not improved, he instead spit with his face forwards, and the saliva landed pathetically on his own chest. He laid there in a puddle, a personal reminder of his unsuccessful revolt.
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“Try to calm down, Lucas. It’s important that, together, we follow the protocol. Every subject is asked the same preliminary questions, so please do not take any personal offense.”
Lucas scoffed.
“Alright, Lucas. I am going to repeat my previous question: what is your name?”
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While he knew he should respond instantly and correctly to avoid additional punishment, something in the depths of his mind nevertheless refrained. The question was inherently disrespectful in these circumstances and thus answering without at least a moment of hesitation would be a display of submission, an admission to defeat. He exhaled and prepared his response.
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“Okay, my name is Lucas.”
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The man pressed the button once more.
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The previous pain revisited Lucas, only this time with a more excruciating intensity and occupying a greater area; his shoulders ached and his toes twitched — no surface of his skin was exempt from the blistering heat. From the bottom of his peripheral vision, he noticed his bare arms and legs. Incredibly, they showed no sign of damage; no welts, no bruises, not even any discoloration. Here he was experiencing agony far worse than anything he had previously felt, far worse than anything he could even imagine, and yet no sign of any infliction of pain at all! He clenched his teeth. His eyes started to swell. When at last the pain subsided, he let out an exhausted grunt. This time, he offered no protest to the doctor at the computer.
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“I’m sorry, Lucas. Please do not restate the question in your answer; give only your name and nothing else.”
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Lucas’ face did not budge, and his expression was emotionless. He looked as a man from whom all energy had been extracted, only leaving behind a hollow physical body.
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“What is your name?”
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“Lucas.” The response was given immediately.
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“Excellent!” The doctor turned around and shouted, “He is ready for your presence.” Giving a bow, the doctor fled the scene.
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Lucas heard him before he saw him. Heavy footsteps and the sound of jewelry approached, loud in contrast with the deafening silence that had engrossed the air following the doctor’s departure. The faint ticking of a clock grew gradually louder with the footsteps but never more distinct — always muffled.
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At last, a tall, slender figure dressed in a white laboratory coat and safety glasses came into view. On the surface, he appeared only as a scientist, but Lucas could not help marveling at the man. He had an attractive face and flawless hair. As he approached, he tucked a pocket watch into one of the lab coat pockets. A grin populated his face.
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“Lucas! I’ve been expecting you.” He grabbed Lucas’ shoulder in a playful manner and looked into his eyes.
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His gaze intimidated Lucas, who could not help but flinch.
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“You seem to be in a terribly uncomfortable, immobile state. Let me help you with that.” He flew to the computer, typed for a few seconds at a speed even faster than the doctor before, his fingers performing a delicate tango with the keys.
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The scientist pressed a final button and, abruptly, Lucas felt his muscles revitalize. He moved his arms in circles and shook his legs awake. He turned his head from left to right and then up and down. He let out a groan of relief as the kinks in his neck disappeared with audible cracks. Noticing a welcoming gesture from the man, Lucas hopped down from the hospital bed; in an eerie sense, his actions seemed to be inextricably connected to the whims of this mysterious man and at his complete mercy. He felt as though the man could have instructed him to lick his well-polished shoes at that very moment, and, with no means to object, Lucas would have complied.
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“Lucas, I want to give you a proper introduction to the place and show you exactly how we operate. I’ve picked you, in particular, for reasons that perhaps you are able to infer — if not now, then certainly after our little journey. Come on now, follow me!”
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The man started to walk, and Lucas eagerly trailed behind. After a fleeting moment to appreciate his rediscovered ability to walk, a room to his left caught his eye. It appeared similar to the one he came from, beds and computers set up in the same fashion, only that the people in the beds were not dressed in the moss green gown Lucas wore; instead, they wore white laboratory coats. Lucas squinted to get a better look, but the door to the room was quickly shut.
He refocused his attention onto the man and followed him into a different room. This room was spacious, well-lit, and furnished with many large laboratory benches and computers. On each bench stood elaborate scientific tools and measuring devices. Workers dressed in identical white coats and research goggles busily scurried in every direction at such a frantic pace that it was a miracle no collisions occurred.
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“Here is the Research Room! Do not let the commotion mislead you, Lucas. Everything here runs with perfect mathematical precision. A lot of exciting work is happening here as we speak. Why don’t we take a look?”
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Without any thought, Lucas enthusiastically nodded, even though he had no desire to see any of the research. As a conjoined unit, the two men moved towards a bench to their right. Stopping before it, Lucas watched a scientist carefully placing a rat into a plastic, transparent chamber no more than a foot wide in either direction. On one side of the chamber were two levers each connected to two separate compartments, one containing cylindrical food pellets and the other containing a bottle filled with a light blue liquid. The rat appeared petrified, squirming and urinating urgently as it descended in the air; upon touching the glass floor, it came to a complete halt, frozen in space.
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“Ah, a great demonstration! Watch this, Lucas.” The man’s smile was contagious. He warmly patted the scientist at the bench on the back in greeting. “Hello there. I’ve brought a friend along to watch. Let’s run the addiction model.”
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The scientist bowed in obedience and moved to the computer.
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“Closely observe, Lucas, the behavior of the rat. You can see the two levers; if the rat pushes the one on the right, it will receive a food reward; the left, and it will receive highly concentrated liquid morphine, a euphoric compound. Keep in mind that this rat has been without food for two days, so it is hungrier than you could imagine. Watch.”
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The rat moved tentatively to the lever on the right, stopped, and gently nudged it. Food pellets were dispensed, which the rat greedily consumed. When the food was gone, the rat eyed the second lever with curiosity. After only a brief moment of hesitation, the rat jumped over and tapped it with its forepaw. The blue liquid dripped steadily into the cage. The rat cautiously licked; after a taste, the rat became insatiable, fervently licking, and then pressing the lever once the liquid no longer dripped. Lucas watched in disgust as the rat tapped the lever incessantly, at such a fast rate that the rat could not contain all of the morphine, and the overflowing liquid brushed down the rat’s side and collected in a pool on the bottom glass. Noticing this, the rat began tasting its own fur and the floor, ensuring that none of the precious elixir went to waste.
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“And now…” The man motioned to the scientist at the computer.
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Shortly following the command, the rapid tapping and licking suddenly stopped. The rat paused, as if contemplating its next move. With an uncomfortable twitch, the rat scurried back to the lever on the right, tapping it for a food reward. For a minute longer, Lucas watched in silence — the lever on the left remained untouched.
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The man laughed heartily. “Isn’t that incredible? Allow me to explain what you’ve just witnessed: we have the power, with the press of a few buttons, to manipulate the neurons, or brain cells, of these rats to change their behavior in any way we see fit. Initially, I’m sure you noticed the rat behaved in an impulsive manner, unable to delay gratification for the sake of its survival. Then, after only some slight modifications in the prefrontal cortex in the brain, the rat gained the ability to resist temptation, to abstain from impulse, and choose the more intelligent option. And you’d be amazed, Lucas, how slight these modifications truly are — so small that some other rats are fortunate enough to not require any modification to resist their animalistic impulses at all; they simply defer immediate pleasure by default. Isn’t that amazing? Now, here’s where it gets interesting.”
Lucas frowned.
The man continued: “In this demonstration, we instilled a rat with a gift, a truly spectacular trait, one deserving of a fitting name. A simple name would be best. If only I could think of the perfect one… Any suggestions, Lucas?”
Lucas did not respond.
The man laughed once more.
“Regardless, if we can grant this ability to a rat, I’m sure we could do something approximating the reverse.” He smiled maliciously. “Lucas, I want you to follow me into one final room… It is time that you became the rat.”