wager
Do you think I can be forgiven?
For what, my child?
For the crimes of my existence. For the terrible sins I have committed and will continue to commit. For the stain I cannot prevent — it is the birthright of my species.
Ah — that. There is no such thing as sin. No such thing. See, the lion hunts his prey, and we watch the gory act on children’s television without wincing. Why? Because we weren’t conditioned to wince at such a thing. It’s simply nature acting on its own impulses.
Sure. But that’s an animal — a creature — it doesn’t have consciousness. It’s not the same.
The consciousness makes a difference, does it? Tell that to the gazelle. I’m sure it couldn’t care less.
But we have agency. We can choose, damn it. You’re pretending that doesn’t count for anything!
It’s an illusion, don’t you see. Let’s play a game. I’m holding a marble in one hand. Guess right, I give you £10. Guess wrong, you get a slap. How’s that?
I’d rather not get slapped.
I’ll raise the stakes — £100 for each correct guess. Worth a slap now?
You’re mad. Fine. That one.
Oops. Try again.
Ouch… erm… that one.
Wrong again.
Oh, damn you — the left one.
Not very good at this, are you? Alright, let me be judicious and give you a clue.
Wha— you’re not holding a marble at all. You cheat. You damned fool!
Way I see it, you just got slapped three times for no good reason. Who is the fool?
I don’t understand. What are you getting at?
Let’s play again – this time I choose. Here’s a marble. Same terms.
Hey look, this is all fun and games but I don’t have that kind of money.
Then play the game the way you want to play it.
What. No. I’m not a cheater. Not like you.
This is getting tedious. HOW ABOUT NOW? New terms. Get it wrong and I’ll off myself. Get it right and you can say goodbye to this world you feel so much contrition for.
N-no. I. Wh-Why are you…doing this.
Stop blubbering. Make the choice. Or I’ll make it for you.
Please. No. Don’t. I’ll play.
Splendid. I’ll choose. Eenie. Meenie. Minie. Mo!
It’s…wrong.
A silence fills the room. The armed man smiles with a glint in his eye. He sees his own reflection in his adversary’s eyes, shrouded in guilt and horror. He raises the pistol to his temple, pulls back the hammer, and squeezes the trigger. The other man sits motionless as the body thuds to the ground. His hands are still clasped shut concealing a tremor. He slowly opens the prompted hand to reveal a translucent marble inside. He sets the marble in disgust on the rickety desk that separated them. He reflects for a moment, picks up the marble and slowly walks out the room.