"No. I just wanted to say that I don't believe you. I think the gun is some kind of psychological trick to make us angry or scared. You're trying to get us to jump through your hoop. And it's already starting to work. Your conversation with her shows you scared her silly." He sat down, pleased with himself.
"Thanks for sharing that," said Foreman. "But what you think has nothing to do with what's actually going to happen. We have a loaded gun up here. I intend to use it before the end of the day." To the rest of the room, "Rodman doesn't believe that. He thinks it's a trick. Let's see, what was it Samuel Johnson said? Oh, yes," Foreman read from the manual, " 'Depend on it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.'
"It's still very early in the day," said Foreman. "At this point, I'm sure that most of you are still thinking that this gun is only a prop to help you 'concentrate your minds wonderfully.' Well, yes-that's part of the purpose; the gun does focus your attention; but I should also remind you what Chekhov said. That's Anton, not Pavel," Foreman frowned his annoyance at the presumed illiteracy of the group and turned the page of the manual. "'If somebody places a gun on the mantel in the first act, it must be fired before the end of the second.' I promise you that we will use this gun today."
Foreman stopped himself to make a tangential point. "What we are doing here is demonstrating the first part of the process of dying. Denial. Most of you in this room-including even McCarthy-are refusing to accept that I am serious about this process. We will remain in the denial phase until everybody in the room is satisfied that this is not a trick. I am going to tell Colonel Marisov to shoot Captain McCarthy. This process will continue until Captain McCarthy is dead. The denial of this process is part of what you think you have to do to survive. That's why you do it. Now, where was I?" He strode back to the stand with the manual on it. "Oh, yes-I was talking about our evolutionary history.
"When we were still living in the trees, life was a lot simpler-and so were our brains. Is this a good banana or a bad banana? Monkeys that could recognize good bananas survived. Monkeys that couldn't, didn't. The evolutionary history of this species has served to put a premium on the ability to make appropriate decisions. Every time one of you chimpanzees pops out a baby, you are passing along not only your genes, but your vote on the hard-wired programming of the species. Because of our billions of years of evolutionary history, we are hard-wired to be decision-making machines. Whatever circumstance we are presented with, we make a decision about it. The decision is always reduced to its simplest leveclass="underline" 'Is this a good banana or a bad banana?' Yes or no? Is this a threat to my survival? Or not? If something unknown presents itself, we are hard-wired to treat it as a threat until proven otherwise. Eveything that your mind does-that whole conversation in your head, no matter what it's about-that's the mind considering its decisions for survival.
"Now, you want to notice here pay attention!-that this places an incredible burden on the mind to be right. Because in the mind's view, the alternative to being right is being dead. The mind equates rightness with survival and wrongness with dying. This is hard-wired into us. We, as individuals, have to be right whatever we do. That's why we have so much trouble with the concept of death-because Death is wrong. By the way," Foreman added, "the purpose of this process is not to change that orientation. We can't. It's hard-wired into you. The best we can do is make you conscious of it. Notice that most of you are now in denial. Notice the attempts to find the loophole, the escape, the fine print in the contract. "
Foreman sat down in his chair and looked out over the room. "Feedback?"
Several hands went up.
"What's to prevent McCarthy from walking out that door in the back of the room?"
"The door is locked and will remain so until I tell the assistants to unlock it."
"What if Marisov refuses?"
"We'll pick someone else." Foreman was emotionless.
"What if we all refuse?"
"Then I will fire the gun. Nothing will change the fact. The process continues until McCarthy is dead." Foreman pointed to a woman in the front row.
"I'm not going to argue with you," she said. "I just want to ask why? Why is it necessary to kill McCarthy for this process?"
Foreman considered his words carefully. "Remember what I told you at the beginning? We don't explain anything here. That's the mind trying to sidetrack the purpose. You want to bring a centipede to a crashing halt? Ask him in which order he moves his legs. In here, we concentrate on results. The only explanation you will ever get is: because that's what is necessary to produce the result."
"But isn't this a rather severe and heartless way to make a point? Couldn't you just tell us what we're supposed to realize?"
Foreman gave her a look. He gave her the look. "Don't you think we've had this discussion ourselves? If there were any other way to achieve the result, if there were an easier way, don't you think we'd take it?"
She sat down.
Foreman looked out over the room. "Do you see the denial at work? Do you see how you are trying to deny the circumstances of the situation? You're still not taking it seriously." He pointed at another raised hand.
A man this time. "Sorry, but I don't believe that the president of the United States would authorize this kind of bullshit. I don't believe it. If you're serious, then you're a murderer and you're asking us to be co-conspirators. And if you're not serious-if this is some kind of a trick, like Rodman said-then this is still an outrage. I'm going to take this up with Senator Brodie. When this is made public . . ."
Foreman held up a hand. "Excuse me, but Senator Brodie is one of our graduates."
"Then I'll find another senator. I still don't believe this . . . "
Foreman looked at him calmly. "I acknowledge your disbelief. Are you willing to take McCarthy's place up here on the platform?"
"Uh . . . " The man hesitated. The roomful of people laughed.
Foreman grinned. "That's the first sign that any of you in this room are taking this seriously. Does anyone want to trade places with McCarthy? Does anyone really and truly disbelieve?"
No hands were raised.
"Hm," said Foreman. "Suddenly, we have a roomful of hiders." He resumed his analytical tone. "I think most of you are still in denial. You want to notice that denial at least pretends to be a rational process." He grinned. "Wait till we get to anger. Anger is terrific. There's no pretense at all in anger. You'll see. Does anyone else want to deny the circumstances of this process? McCarthy?" He looked at me.
I shook my head slowly.
Foreman looked at me oddly, then he looked to Marisov. "What about you?"
Marisov spoke in carefully measured tones. She said, "I won't fire the gun. I can't. I won't. McCarthy has committed no crime. He does not deserve to die."
"Agreed: he has committed no crime. He does not deserve to die. But he's going to die anyway. We are all going to die someday. So what? Will you fire the gun?"
She whispered, "Nyet."
"Thank you. You may resume your seat."
Marisov climbed down off the platform and found her way back to her chair in the audience. She put her face in her hands and began weeping quietly.
Foreman waited until an assistant had verified that she was all right, then he turned back to me. "Unfortunately, McCarthy, you don't get off so easily. What's going on with you?"
I shook my head again.
Foreman turned to the rest of the trainees again. "All right. Marisov won't fire the gun. Who will?"
No hands went up.
"Oh, come on!" said Foreman, annoyed. "We're going to be here all day! There must be some one of you blood-crazed baboons who wants to get this over with."