The Nonlinear Library LW - [Fiction] A Confession by Arjun Panickssery
Apr 19, 2024
06:50
Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: [Fiction] A Confession, published by Arjun Panickssery on April 19, 2024 on LessWrong.
This morning while taking the LIRR to the city I performed first aid on a man who had been shot through the window of my carriage.
"Is he going to die?" his girlfriend asked me.
"We're all going to die."
A long pause. "I mean - is he going to die right now?"
"Probably not." Probably he didn't die. I got off at Jamaica Station while he stayed on (he was unconscious) so I don't know. I didn't want to be questioned at length as a witness since it was my day off.
I continued toward a barbershop I like. There wasn't any reason for me to stay. A similar case of accidental gunfire into the train was in the news a while back. I guess also since it's Saturday the workweek is over so it likely wasn't any organized criminal act.
As I was passing Kew Gardens a stranger in a torn windbreaker pulled me suddenly to the side.
"I have committed a terrible crime: a murder. No one suspects me. Only you know the truth. This is my name and address." He pushed a small business card into the breast pocket of my coat and walked away.
Initially I supposed that I could turn him in to the police. A few reasons presented themselves immediately. First, it could be considered morally appropriate to denounce him to the authorities for the sake of justice. Second, a naïve interpretation suggested that he wanted me to turn him in, since otherwise he wouldn't have confessed his crime to me. Third, a failure on my part to denounce him could present the possibility in the minds of concerned parties that I was his accomplice.
But walking through Forest Park with disregard for the operating hours of my barbershop, I considered the opposing evidence. First, I could be exposing myself to some kind of danger or unforeseen trap. Second, I might lack the conviction for treachery. This man entrusted me - and me alone - with such a secret. Already I walked among my fellow citizens with a newfound transgressive thrill.
I resigned myself to the fate of my co-conspirator, whether arrest and punishment or criminal victory, the goal and outcome of which I knew nothing
Again and again I reversed my position for some hours. Such always has been the nightmare of my life with its interminable indecisiveness and hesitation. Very little new was discovered within my mind during this time, but only the relevant weights of the different reasons shifted in my brain.
Halfway across the park I saw a little Pomeranian carrying a big stick, maybe five or six times his own length. It pleased him very much to carry it with him. But I pitied him for his ignorance because I knew that it would never fit through his doorway. His master was dressed for work and held a phone to his ear to argue about some investment that frustrated him. At length he exclaimed that he didn't know why he even continued to work after the success he has had.
My new companion and I passed some chess hustlers seated behind their tables. I don't think they usually have chess hustlers at Forest Park. But there were three older men behind their chessboards smoking cigarettes and occasionally defeating passersby and collecting small bills.
Our dog-walker was interested in a match but soured when he discovered that the hustlers didn't want to bet on the outcome of the game. Instead they wanted to be paid $5 for a single round of speed chess regardless of outcome. It's the same in Manhattan. But their would-be customer complained.
"If we pay you no matter what, what does it matter to you whether you play any good?" he protested.
The old man behind the chessboard only replied, "The same thing could be said about your life." Profound!
With the dog-walker dismissed I realized a potential solution to my problem. The main obstacle in my mind was that I might be bound by some ethical ru...
This morning while taking the LIRR to the city I performed first aid on a man who had been shot through the window of my carriage.
"Is he going to die?" his girlfriend asked me.
"We're all going to die."
A long pause. "I mean - is he going to die right now?"
"Probably not." Probably he didn't die. I got off at Jamaica Station while he stayed on (he was unconscious) so I don't know. I didn't want to be questioned at length as a witness since it was my day off.
I continued toward a barbershop I like. There wasn't any reason for me to stay. A similar case of accidental gunfire into the train was in the news a while back. I guess also since it's Saturday the workweek is over so it likely wasn't any organized criminal act.
As I was passing Kew Gardens a stranger in a torn windbreaker pulled me suddenly to the side.
"I have committed a terrible crime: a murder. No one suspects me. Only you know the truth. This is my name and address." He pushed a small business card into the breast pocket of my coat and walked away.
Initially I supposed that I could turn him in to the police. A few reasons presented themselves immediately. First, it could be considered morally appropriate to denounce him to the authorities for the sake of justice. Second, a naïve interpretation suggested that he wanted me to turn him in, since otherwise he wouldn't have confessed his crime to me. Third, a failure on my part to denounce him could present the possibility in the minds of concerned parties that I was his accomplice.
But walking through Forest Park with disregard for the operating hours of my barbershop, I considered the opposing evidence. First, I could be exposing myself to some kind of danger or unforeseen trap. Second, I might lack the conviction for treachery. This man entrusted me - and me alone - with such a secret. Already I walked among my fellow citizens with a newfound transgressive thrill.
I resigned myself to the fate of my co-conspirator, whether arrest and punishment or criminal victory, the goal and outcome of which I knew nothing
Again and again I reversed my position for some hours. Such always has been the nightmare of my life with its interminable indecisiveness and hesitation. Very little new was discovered within my mind during this time, but only the relevant weights of the different reasons shifted in my brain.
Halfway across the park I saw a little Pomeranian carrying a big stick, maybe five or six times his own length. It pleased him very much to carry it with him. But I pitied him for his ignorance because I knew that it would never fit through his doorway. His master was dressed for work and held a phone to his ear to argue about some investment that frustrated him. At length he exclaimed that he didn't know why he even continued to work after the success he has had.
My new companion and I passed some chess hustlers seated behind their tables. I don't think they usually have chess hustlers at Forest Park. But there were three older men behind their chessboards smoking cigarettes and occasionally defeating passersby and collecting small bills.
Our dog-walker was interested in a match but soured when he discovered that the hustlers didn't want to bet on the outcome of the game. Instead they wanted to be paid $5 for a single round of speed chess regardless of outcome. It's the same in Manhattan. But their would-be customer complained.
"If we pay you no matter what, what does it matter to you whether you play any good?" he protested.
The old man behind the chessboard only replied, "The same thing could be said about your life." Profound!
With the dog-walker dismissed I realized a potential solution to my problem. The main obstacle in my mind was that I might be bound by some ethical ru...