Post-Human Trilogy Read Free Page B

for her post-doc. But you’re no slouch yourself, Doc. You made it into med school before the world ended, back when it still meant something. You two are a couple of smart ones, all right. I bet you even think you’re smarter than your commanding officer.”
    Again, Craig desperately wanted to reply. He shifted in his chair, his mouth forming the shapes of words, but he didn’t have time to settle on which ones to say before Paine went on.
    “Have you ever looked up my file, Doc? No? Shoot. You’d think you’d look up the file of your C.O. If you had looked me up, you’d know I’m a Rhodes Scholar.”
    “That’s impressive, sir. I didn’t know that.” Finally...words .
    “Back when it meant something,” the colonel repeated.
    Craig nodded in understanding.
    “So now that you know you’re not being addressed by a Luddite idiot, let me explain something to you.” Paine pulled out his sidearm and held the gun up for Craig to see. “They teach you anything about game theory in medical school, Doc?”
    Craig shook his head.
    “Then you’ve never heard of Nash’s equilibrium ?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Okay. Now we’re in business—there’s something I can teach you. In game theory, every scenario is broken down into a mathematical equation, and the entities in the game—whether they be individuals or whole countries—are assumed to be rational. You follow me so far, Doc?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Let me give you an example. Say you and I are gunfighters in the Old West. It’s high noon.” Paine wiggled the gun in his hand and looked at it, almost adoringly. “We’ve got a beef to settle, so there we are, in the middle of the town, dust blowing up around us. Somebody is going to die. That’s a given. Know why?”
    “No, sir.”
    “It’s simple, Doc. People who are rational always act in their own best interest . Let’s put some numbers to it. Let’s say you’re making up your mind about whether or not to draw your gun and shoot. You could just keep it holstered. If I keep mine holstered too, then our chance of survival is going to be 100 percent. Great, right? We could just walk away and call it a day.” Paine shook his head. “The only problem is, that’s a heck of a gamble, ain’t it? I mean, what if you decide to keep your gun holstered and then I pull out mine anyway?” Paine aimed his firearm directly at Craig’s forehead. “Your chances of survival just dropped dramatically. In fact, since I’m a dead shot, I’d have to say they’re damn near zero.” The colonel leaned back in his chair. “So, what are you going to do?”
    “I’ve got to shoot,” Craig replied, swallowing as he did so.
    Paine smiled. “That’s right, Doc. And why is that?”
    “If I shoot, chances are 50/50 that I’ll survive. Beats zero, sir.”
    “Well, you are a smart son of a gun.” Paine sat back in his chair and lowered his weapon. “Let’s change the equation a little bit, shall we? Let’s say that instead of guns, we’re holding nuclear weapons on each other. Instead of a fraction of a second for a bullet to hit our enemy, it will take several minutes. If you fire, the other player knows it and fires back. Both of you have a zero percent chance of survival. You know this scenario. It’s called mutually assured destruction, and it has held from the time Russia first got themselves a nuke back in 1948. No matter how afraid we got that nuclear war was going to happen tomorrow, in truth, we were always safe, because nobody wanted to start a war that would end with everyone dead.” Paine held his gun up and trained it on Craig’s forehead once again. This time there was something in the colonel’s eye that unnerved Craig. The killer inside emerged from his eyes as they fixed, hard and unmoving, upon Craig’s. “But let’s say someone—or something —found a way around mutually assured destruction. Let’s say Nash’s equilibrium went straight out the window. That happened once in history.