The Happiness Box

[Jeff Corkern]

Couple of nights ago, somebody posed an interesting question, something like this:

"I am an atheist. Yet I act in an entirely ethical manner. Why do I do this?"

This is certainly a very good question.

I shall now attempt to answer it. To do that, I shall need the help of somebody I met here that very same night, Hailslaanesh.

One thing rapidly became clear on the night when Hailslaanesh and I were posting back and forth.

Hailslaanesh is a good and kind man who loves his wife and children very much.

But Hailslaanesh is also a man who doesn’t believe he has a soul.

This makes him the perfect subject for my little scene. So I’m going to borrow Hailslaanesh for a bit. Hailslaanesh, I hope you don’t mind, man.

This is for your kids.

THE HAPPINESS BOX
by Jeffrey A. Corkern​

Scene opens:

I and Hailslaanesh are on a stage. I am standing stage left, Hailslaanesh is stage right sitting in a chair. In the rear and center of the stage, Hailslaanesh’s wife and children are sitting.

"Hailslaanesh, man," I say, "I’m going to do you a favor. I’ve got a gadget that will make you happy permanently."

Hailslaanesh raises an eyebrow in mild disbelief.

I walk off-stage and return pushing what looks like a large steel coffin on wheels.

"Hailslaanesh," I say, "this is a Happiness Box."

I open the top of the box. Inside is revealed a very comfortable, pillow-lined space, approximately the size and shape of Hailslaanesh. In the region where his head would lay is what looks like a hollow basketball with electrodes spiking out all over it.

"Hailslaanesh," I say, "this box is the ultimate in virtual reality. You lie down in the box, and surgeons permanently implant the electrodes into the sensory nerves leading into your brain---hearing, seeing, touching, tasting, smelling, everything. They will also install a feeding tube into your stomach. In the box is a computer that will feed impulses into the electrodes attached to your sensory nerves. The computer will be programmed to feed you, monitor your health, and give you whatever you want. Essentially what happens is your current life is replaced by another life---"

"No," Hailslaanesh says, sharply and with total revulsion. "Who would take care of my children? Who would love them?"

"Please don’t interrupt, Hailslaanesh," I say, "it’s rude. Essentially what happens is your current life is replaced by another life---except this life will be perfect. Before you go into the box, you can program any kind of life you want ---"

"No," says Hailslaanesh, interrupting again. "I am not interested."

"Please, Hailslaanesh, mind your manners," I say mildly. "I’m still not finished. When you go into the box, all memories of the box itself will be erased. So, as far as you will know, the life you are living inside the box will be perfectly real."

"Not interested," Hailslaanesh says. "You’re talking about abandoning my family."

"Yeah," I say. "So what? We’ll just chop that memory out, too."

"Forget it," Hailslaanesh says, "not a chance."

"Hailslaanesh, you’re not thinking," I say. "All you are is your brain, right? Reality is just a current of sensory impulses going into your brain and being processed in various ways. That’s all you are. Physically speaking, all we are going to do is replace the sensory current portion with another sensory current. By all logic, it will be precisely the same, precisely as real as the life you are living now."

"Jeff," Hailslaanesh says, "you are wasting your time. No."

"It’s my time to waste," I say. "I’m only trying to do you a favor."

"By telling me to abandon my wife and children? Hardly."

"We can wipe the memory of that out after you’re in the box!" I protest. "You’ll never know you did it! C’mon, man! What’s the physical difference?"

"I don’t know, and I certainly don’t care," Hailslaanesh says. "I’m not going to do it."

I sigh in a forbearing fashion.

"Let me point out as precisely as I can what you’re giving up," I say. "Surely you will see the light of reason then. What do you really, truly want? In the box, you can have it, and more. Would you like to see your children always be obedient and never give you any trouble? Done. Would you like to see your children grow up and win Nobel Prizes? No problem. Be a rich man with no money worries, live in a big, fancy house on the beach? A mere few lines of code. We can even dispense with sensory experience altogether and just shoot the juice to your pleasure centers. Permanent bliss."

"No."

"Well, what about women, then? The supermodel of your choice. All of them. One, a hundred, a thousand. They’re all in there, every single one, waiting for you."

"No."

"Look," I say, "there are going to be lots of people who will be more than happy to jump into this box with both feet. They’re going to be fighting each other by the millions to get a Happiness Box of their own. Even fathers. Join the crowd. Everybody else will be doing it."

"Perhaps they will," Hailslaanesh says, "but I shall not. That thing is an abomination. No."

"Hailslaanesh," I say, "you’re a hard case. Here’s yet another advantage. When you’re in the box, we’re going to put it deep underground. You will not be exposed to new diseases, or environmental carcinogens, or be in danger of dying by accident, or terrorist attack, or any of a thousand other different dangers. When you’re in the box, you will be safe, Hailslaanesh, safe beyond your wildest dreams, and you will as a consequence live a very long time."

"No."

"Okay," I say, "you force me to do this. I wanted to avoid this, but now I have no choice. I told you I was trying to do you a favor. Now I will tell you why."

I raise my hands to indicate the entire stage.

"This reality we’re in now can be a terrible place, a place of absolute, bone-crushing horror," I say. "What’s the most horrible thing you can imagine? I bet I know. Watching your children die slowly and painfully of cancer while you stand by utterly helpless to remove their pain. I can save you that." I point at the box. "In the box, that can’t happen. In the box, Hailslaanesh, nothing bad can ever happen to you."

"No."

"That’s nuts," I say. "That’s absolutely nuts. Do you understand what you’re turning down? A life of perfect peace and happiness, for a life that is certain to contain pain and suffering. Will you turn that down? Will you?"

"I will," Hailslaanesh says flatly. "To raise my children and keep them safe, to love my wife and children, I will take the life of pain and suffering."

"You’re a good man, Hailslaanesh," I say. "But I want to ask you one question. Is what you’re doing rational according to your belief system? All I’m doing, from your perspective, is replacing one sensory stream with another, much better one---and yet you turn it down, and it’s not even close. Does that make sense?"

"I will concede it’s not rational," Hailslaanesh says. "But I’d rather be irrational than abandon my family."

"Okay," I say, tossing my hands up theatrically, "I give up."

Hanging my head in a defeated fashion, I push the box off-stage.

I return bearing a flat, oblong package of a green, leafy material wrapped in clear plastic.

"You won’t let me make you happy permanently," I say, "so let me at least make you happy for a little while."

I lay the package at Hailslaanesh’s feet and back away.

"That’s marijuana," I say. "Happy toking. Just bend over and pick it up."

Three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers enter from behind Hailslaanesh and surround Hailslaanesh on all sides. They fold muscular arms over massive chests and stare straight down at Hailslaanesh.

Hailslaanesh looks up at the three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers.

"Hello, officers," he says.

The three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers don’t say a word. One great, big, mean, UGLY police officer shifts in a significant fashion that makes his handcuffs clink together rather loudly.

"Hurry up, get smoking, and get happy," I say. "Time’s a-wastin’."

Hailslaanesh looks at me.

"Now you’re the one who’s nuts," he says. "No. I have zero desire to go to jail."

"If you bend over, pick up, and smoke that dope," I say, "or, generally speaking, get happy by direct stimulation of your brain’s pleasure centers----the three great, big, mean, UGLY cops here will bust you and haul your rear end off to jail."

"Yes."

"You touch that dope, that emotion drug---you get punished."

"That about covers it."

"So touching that dope---isn’t smart, isn’t rational."

"Yes again."

"Tell you what," I say, "I have a compromise. If you would, officers."

The three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers back up about three feet. I produce a large piece of white chalk and draw a square around Hailslaanesh, so that the three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers are just outside the square.

"All right, I say. "I have made a deal with the three great, big, mean, UGLY police officers here. As long as you stay in that square, you can smoke all the dope you want. Inside that square, you have COMPLETE freedom of action. But, alas, the second you leave that square, for whatever reason, you can be arrested and punished for any bad actions you performed while inside the square."

Hailslaanesh laughs.

"Not punished right then, just punished later," he says. "That is no compromise. Forget it."

"So it’s still stupid to touch that dope?"

"Yes, it’s still stupid to touch this dope."

I gesture. The Happiness Box is wheeled back out onto the stage.

"One more time," I say. "This box will make you happy---UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE. Want it?"

"No."

"Hailslaanesh, man, " I say softly, "you are acting like you can get busted for drugs---AFTER YOU DIE. You say you don’t believe you have a soul---BUT YOU ACT LIKE YOU DO."

Now it’s Hailslaanesh’s turn to not say a word.

"But I didn’t think of it like that," he says finally. "I thought only of loving my family."

"But you yourself said what you were doing didn’t make sense by your own belief system," I said. "Only one thing makes your behavior rational, explainable. You are acting like you have a soul---but it’s totally unconscious on your part, buried deep in your guts, so much a part of you you’re not even aware of it. And it’s not just you, Hailslaanesh, the vast majority of the human race is doing exactly the same thing---acting like they have souls, but completely unaware of it."

I step back.

"For your kids, I do this," I say. "I suggest you reconsider very carefully what you think you believe. In fact, I suggest you ask yourself if this no-souls thing, instead of making life on this Earth better, might instead make it a thousand times WORSE. Because, if there are no souls, this Happiness Box you so rightly called an abomination becomes RATIONAL."


​

END
​

 

[Meffy]

So I’m going to borrow Hailslaanesh for a bit. Hailslaanesh, I hope you don’t mind, man.

Without his permission you convert a real person into a puppet, to parrot words you put in his mouth? And you hope he doesn't mind?

*astonishment*

'Bye.

 

[Doubt]

Without his permission you convert a real person into a puppet, to parrot words you put in his mouth? And you hope he doesn't mind?

*astonishment*

'Bye.

Such an action causes me to wonder if Jeff needs to get out of the house more.

 

[Doubt]

"For your kids, I do this," I say. "I suggest you reconsider very carefully what you think you believe. In fact, I suggest you ask yourself if this no-souls thing, instead of making life on this Earth better, might instead make it a thousand times WORSE. Because, if there are no souls, this Happiness Box you so rightly called an abomination becomes RATIONAL."

The biggest error in this and your other screed is that you either cannot or will not explain why you think either murder or the happiness box are the rational choice if you have no soul. Until you explain this, you have no argument at all.

One thing I think you are missing is that humans are animals. We are hard wired to like babys and take care of things that we like. No soul required.

 

[Meffy]

I suppose just to be on the safe side I ought to do this.

To Jeff Corkern: I hereby forbid you to employ me as a character in any of your narratives, to use my name for one of the straw men in your fantasies, or otherwise to make use of my person or persona as devices in your works of fiction. You may quote my posts in the conventional manner provided by the board, so long as the limits of the quoted material are made clear. But you may not write me into one of your posts as a character and attribute to me any statement which I have not actually made. Depending on the individual case, violating these terms may be considered defamatory.

Is this clear? And do you agree to these terms?

[edit] To those who are not Jeff: It's really stupid to have to say such a thing -- I agree. Ordinarily I assume that every poster in a public forum has the decency not to force their words into unsuspecting victims' mouths. It seems not everyone is worthy of the benefit of the doubt.

 

[Gr8wight]

Couple of nights ago, somebody posed an interesting question, something like this:

"I am an atheist. Yet I act in an entirely ethical manner. Why do I do this?"
​

You misquote me, Jeff. I did not say that I behave in an entirely ethical manner. I said that I do not behave like your two dimnesional caricature Michael Stone. But then again, who does? You have an entirely simplistic view of life, and the world around you. Your stories do nothing but reveal your bias in these discussions. Nothing you have said, in any of the threads you have started, has been even remotely intellectually challenging. One day, when you are a lot older than you are now, you may understand.​

 

[I less than three logic]

What is with this story stuff anyway? What is the point of creating puppets to speak for you, are you unable to speak for yourself? Perhaps you like being able to control both sides of the conversation. Contorting what is said to reinforce your irrational ideas.

Say what you want to say, don’t hide behind some story. Let others say what they want to say. Pay attention to how the conversation unfolds when you’re not controlling the opposition as well. This is how it should work.

Apply some logic and reason throughout the conversation and you just might learn something. Try supporting your ideas without fallacious arguments, and who knows, you might just teach something too.

 

[Ladewig]

And it’s not just you, Hailslaanesh, the vast majority of the human race is doing exactly the same thing---acting like they have souls, but completely unaware of it."

The vast majority of the human race is acting like they have souls and are completely unaware of it? Who exactly falls into this vast majority? Not Christians, not Muslims, not Hindus - they all believe that there is more to a person than his or her earthly body.

All in all, I didn't find your story very useful in answering the question "why do atheists act in an ethical manner."

------

Lastly , one minor note: how's chances of using clearer titles on future threads? A more descriptive title would allow posters who are interested in this topic to find it now, when the thread is active, and later, when searching for something from this thread.

 

[Piggy]

I suggest you ask yourself if this no-souls thing, instead of making life on this Earth better, might instead make it a thousand times WORSE. Because, if there are no souls, this Happiness Box you so rightly called an abomination becomes RATIONAL.

Life is the way it is. How we answer the question "Do souls exist" won't change that.

I don't see how the soul question makes it rational to surrender one's actual life to an illusion, personally. But suppose it does. There's no reason that should matter because, souls or no souls, people are fundamentally emotional anyway.

At least it was apt, tho, to represent the OP as a stage show, b/c I take this grand distraction as an indication that you have no evidence that souls exist, and no soul research to stand alongside the genuinely fascinating brain research going on right now.

Instead, you give an argument of the type we sometimes hear leveled against evolution, that if we're just one critter like all the other critters, our lives would be meaningless, so it's better to believe we're special.

It's like the old joke about the drunk who lost his keys in the alley, then went out to the street to look for them because the light was better.

 

[Dr Adequate]

"You’re a good man, Hailslaanesh," I say. "But I want to ask you one question. Is what you’re doing rational according to your belief system? All I’m doing, from your perspective, is replacing one sensory stream with another, much better one...

You seem to be confusing disbelief in the soul with solipsism.

Which is probably a first even for amateur philosophers.

I gesture. The Happiness Box is wheeled back out onto the stage.

"One more time," I say. "This box will make you happy---UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE. Want it?"

"No."

"Hailslaanesh, man, " I say softly, "you are acting like you can get busted for drugs---AFTER YOU DIE. You say you don’t believe you have a soul---BUT YOU ACT LIKE YOU DO."

No. He is acting as though there is a world independent of his qualia.

The distinction can easily be seen by observing that we would also refuse the Happiness Box if it had the additional property of confering immortality.

Because, if there are no souls, this Happiness Box you so rightly called an abomination becomes RATIONAL."

I see that despite repeated requests you have still not said what you mean by "RATIONAL". Is this because you haven't decided yet, or is it a secret?

"But you yourself said what you were doing didn’t make sense by your own belief system,"

And that, you silly self-indulgent poseur, is because you get to decide what "he himself" said. No skeptic said that. You said it.

You have demonstrated your ability to get the better of yourself in argument. This is because although all your arguments are stupid, you take care to make the arguments on one side stupider than the arguments on the other.

 

[Dr Adequate]

I think I'll have a go.

Once upon a time I met a man who thought he had a soul.

"Hello," I said. "You think you have a soul?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then is it RATIONAL to sacrifice your first-born child to Moloch?"

"Of course it is," he admitted.

"And do you?" I asked.

"No." he said.

"So, my friend," I said softly, "you behave as though you have no soul."

"That's absolutely true," he said.

"And do you have tiny genitalia?" I enquired.

"Minute, flaccid, and useless for purposes of pleasure or procreation," he replied.

"Now dance for me and sing the teapot song!", I commanded.

 

[HopperUK]

It is possible to believe in right and wrong, even in absolute right and wrong, without believing in God or the soul. The fact that Jeff is unable to grasp the idea of an abstract morality is really quite scary. What happens if he falls into doubt and stops believing in the soul? Would he do the 'rational' thing? He's telling us all that we would, after all. Disturbing.

 

[Dr Adequate]

A count shows that of the nearly 7000 words that Jeff Corkern has posted on this forum, four hundred more words are devoted to conversations with imaginary skeptics than real ones.

That's right, folks. 53% of his verbiage has been spent on arguing with his own straw men.

 

[Meffy]

53%? All that, and I've a suspicion that even his straw men aren't convinced.

 

[Alkatran]

The story was interesting, philosophically, except that the character that kept saying no. just kept saying no. He never backed up is view, I smell bias.

Essentially, you could argue that by removing those memories you were killing him, or that he didn't want a life that had no purpose except to please him, or that he wanted to have some knowledge of how his body was actually doing (in the box death is even more unpredictable), etc

 

[Roboramma]

Jeff, rather than starting more pointless threads, why don't you respond to the criticism in the previous ones?

Just a suggestion. Because based on the OP, it seems you didn't even read what was written in your own threads.

 

[Roboramma]

Essentially, you could argue that by removing those memories you were killing him, or that he didn't want a life that had no purpose except to please him, or that he wanted to have some knowledge of how his body was actually doing (in the box death is even more unpredictable), etc

Or that he actually does care about his wife and children, rather than just how they make him feel...

 

[mumchup]

...or that, he is happy enough living in the real world with all its uncertainty, strife and danger; and that he doesn't feel the need to live in a fantasy world were everything is perfect and there's no suffering etc. (just like in heaven!)

 

[MandosV]

... or that a "meaningless" life in the grand scheme of things may be extremely "meaningful" to the individual living it.

 

[Odin]

Jeff...

What do you consider the afterlife (or equivalent) to be like?
What you mean by "soul"?

It might help in the understanding of your posts.