Chapter One: Philosophy Class

“Do you have free will Mr. Homer?” I was asked. “ What is free will? How is it defined? If you believe that it does in fact exist how is it exercised?” It was February 22, 2025. I was sitting in an uncomfortable desk, in my senior philosophy class. This was suppose to be an easy class in the midst of my four pre-med science classes. The man interrogating me was my professor, he was a stubby little man, balding right up the middle of his head. He was the type of teacher that loved to teach rambling on and on when he got into a topic.
“ It has to exist.” I replied finally. “ I make choices every day. Where to eat, what to say, what to wear. If I am making those choices then doesn’t that mean that I’m exercising free will?” My professor simply smiled.
“You’d think that wouldn’t you.” he replied slowly and deliberately, then speeding up his face reddening with excitement as he continued, “ But what process has led you to make those “choices”? Are you not simply the sum of your experiences and genetics? If so then the choices you make are a direct result of those two factors. Furthermore, you have no control of those two factors. So couldn’t one argue that you have no control of what decisions you may choose to make.” He finished taking a deep breath attempting to regain his composure. I pondered what he said for a moment. I tried to find a loophole in his arugment but as I rolled it over in my head, I had to admit his logic seemed infallable, how can you argue against causality? I felt mildly uneasy about the conclusion that was drawn from it though. If we are just a product of the events leading up to our life, then every decision we make.... every thought we have.... are just a product of that ..... So what are we then? Windup toys just playing out prescripted actions, going through the motions of real life? “ For next class make sure you have read chapters 3 and 4. I’ll see you all next Thursday.” Our professor finished finally seeming content to let us all stew in the philosophical puzzle he had given us. As I left the room I thought more about what he had said. After a few minutes I dismissed the thoughts. What did it matter anyway. It’s not like any of it applied to the real world, or changed anything from my perspective.
I walked back to my apartment. It was freezing outside, the cold air nipped fiercely at my face. I scowled pulling my all-to-thin jacket up to help fight off the cold, kicking myself for not bringing a heavier one. I vainly tried to shut out my thoughts about the cold. I began to go over what I needed to accomplish over the course of the rest of the day. I mentally rehearsed what homework I still had left and what tests would be coming up soon. I sighed deeply, the breath formed a small cloud in the cold air before being whirled around, dissipating quickly in the wind. There was just too much to do.
Day in and day out was always the same. I went to my classes and would feverishly attempt to keep up with the torrents of notes my professors would spit out. Then I would walk back to my apartment and watch TV for an hour while I cooked something to eat, and finally I would finish the day off with a delightful three to four hours of studying worthless facts that no one really even needed to know before collapsing in bed to sleep before the next round. All in an effort to get into medical school where I would do the same thing for another four grueling years.
I finally made it to my apartment after fighting jack frost for the last three blocks. When I got in I immediately turned on the TV and threw a frozen pizza in the oven. My apartment wasn’t too bad. It was a single bedroom with a small living area attached to an even smaller kitchen. My walls and rooms were furnished in the standard college student style, a mishmash of assorted hand-me-downs that my parents and neighbors didn’t need anymore. The floors were littered with old homework assignments and text books.
I eased back into my old torn up lazy boy chair and began the joyful event of channel surfing. I flipped past the endless channels full of reality shows and soap operas, wondering which one was more fake than the other, past a few hundred ESPNs and a weather channel or two, before finally settling on a news station. I got up and checked my pizza while I half listened to the bland expressionless news caster give a report on the “big” stories of the day.
The screen showed some kind of awards ceremony going on. Three men in their mid thirties stood on a platform waving and holding up their medals all with big smiles on their faces. The news man narrated the scene. He said that these three men were being credited a Nobel Prize for their amazing research in human biology. The narration went on to describe the men’s incredible new discovery. It seemed that they had managed to isolate the genes responsible for aging.
I settled back into my chair with my pizza steaming in its plate, as I let it cool, I contemplated the story on the news. If we could figure out how to change or eliminate those genes altogether then we might be able to increase the human lifespan many times over. In fact, if a person kept themselves healthy they might go on living forever. I shook my head at this. Who would really want to live forever. I mean, if you live forever then life would never have any meaning or purpose.
I returned my attention to the TV. I saw their names scroll across the news bar at the bottom of the screen. Each name underneath its respective owner, Dr. Tyrese Leto, Dr. Richard Briton, and lastly Dr. Iago Nebu.
I watched a few minutes longer until they started going into another story about a conflict growing in the middle east. The image showed two men debating over the political significance of some new country claiming to have established nuclear capabilities. They argued over the “doomsday clock“, the supposed clock that ticked away to the nuclear apocalypse each time a new country attains nuclear status. I rolled my eyes. They were always acting like the world was on the edge of destruction, but I never believed them. The news station was just trying to get people worked up as usual. Scare people enough and they will keep watching. That was too boring for me so I resumed my channel surfing. After cycling through all the channels once or twice I found my favorite movie playing, the Matrix. It was an old film my dad had shown me. The special effects were old fashioned, but the plot was intriguing none the less. My mind wandered as the familiar scenes played across the screen. I had always loved the intricate plot lines and philosophical ideas that had come out of movies like these. The scene showed the main character Neo. He had just awoken from the virtual “dream” world that he had been raised in. The movie showed him as he struggled to accept the strange new reality set before him. I lost myself as the movie progressed. The plot of the story proceeded as a normal sci-fi movie would. Perpetual action scenes dotted with twists and turns. I sighed deeply to myself, wishing my life was more exciting than this day after day monotony.
After the movie, I cleaned my dishes and got on my computer. I was about to start my homework when I noticed my little brother’s icon flashing on my msn message bar. I decided I still had some time to talk before I tortured myself with studies for the night.
We talked for about an hour…which was probably an hour too long, but I couldn’t help myself. My brother and I had always been close. Throughout my life he was the only person I had ever really identified with. We didn’t talk about anything in particular, just different things that we had been doing and wanted to do. We joked back and forth, he always made me laugh. He was never serious. Just about everything he would say had a hint of sarcasm behind it.
Finally, I told him I had to go. Afterward, I crammed for a few hours before finally collapsing into bed sometime around midnight. Thankfully, the next day was Friday and after a few classes I would be able to get a break from this excruciating routine.