Zombies in Springtime
Lanny was a philosophy professor. He taught the same three courses every semester: Introduction to Philosophy, Contemporary Ethical Issues, and Reasoning and Critical Thinking. Sometimes Lanny anguished the fact that he didn’t get to teach any of the other more specialized philosophy courses he had taken in college,. On the other hand, as he was approaching the end of his studies, he had wrestled with the pointlessness of the entire discipline. Sometimes he wondered if all the hard work he had poured into developing a refined expertise was worth the paper his degrees were written on. Nobody but philosphers really cared about the more specialized topics. Even those who did knew deep down that the questions belonged to somebody else—physics or psychology or sociology or anyone who used the scientific method instead of sitting back on his lazy ass pondering Gedankenexperiments. But those first three courses—they were just shallow enough to spark everyone’s interest.
His favorite course to teach was PHI 1010: Introduction to Philosophy. The course started with the Ancient Greeks, spent several weeks on the 17th, 18th and 19th century Moderns, and ended with what he thought of as professor’s choice. He filled this period with different topics of his own choosing each semester. According to the department guidelines, he was supposed to cover phenomenology and existentialism, but he had a few reasons for not doing that. One, many professors never got through the Greeks and the Moderns. Two, he didn’t like existentialism or phenomenology. Three, he was the only person in the department.
Lanny opened the classroom door and walked in as the lights automatically flicked to life. As with most of the topics in this course, Lanny was going to approach Descartes with some lecture and a lot of open floor discussion. Spring rain pounded the roof, and at SCCC, that meant there wouldn’t be many students in class. Eleven kids dragged into class and Lanny took his place at the front.
His lecture started with a question, to try to get the kids thinking creatively. “Have any of you ever wondered if you might be the only person in the world? Maybe it’s just you and God, and all of the people in your life, all of your loved ones and even the ones you hate are just there because God is testing you or playing with you like a toy.”
Lanny thought he noticed an agreeable look from the students who had come to class. He was pretty sure everyone had that thought as a kid pondering in isolation.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Lanny held an interactive class and Fred was usually the first student to pipe up and engage him in dialog. “How do you know that what your seeing is really there you know? It’s kind of all in your head. Like when we see colors it’s really just how our brains interpret different wavelengths of light.”
“That’s the idea. Today we’re going to talk about Rene Descartes. In 1641, he published a book that addressed this question. He wanted to develop a fundamental proof that even though we are finite beings and there are limitations to what we can know, we can rest assured that our experience of reality is absolutely real.
“He started by presenting the opposing argument. He called into question all of our knowledge about the world and suggested our entire mental experience, since it takes place inside of us anyway, could just as well be an illusion. He called this approach ‘methodological solipsism.’ Obviously, nobody really thinks this, right? And Descartes was a perfectly rational guy. He didn’t really think there was any risk that reality might not be what it seems. He was all about figuring out what we can really know as people, and how we can say we know it in a way that defies all doubt. His point was not that I might really be the only consciousness in existence, but how can I prove that I am not? Because we all know we’re not, right? But how?”
“Well I don’t know we’re not.” Sophie piped up. The other kids in the class laughed—some mockingly.
Sophie was the pasty girl with the dark hair and dark dresses. She was always melancholy and quiet as the dead. Although the other students were laughing, they held that silent dread that hits when one fears he may be in the presence of a prophet or a seer.
“What do you mean Sophie?”
“Well, look at it from the flip side. How can I prove that you have any experience of reality? You know, how can I prove that you are experiencing the same reality as me? You might be a robot–or an empty shell.”
“Well, that is an astute question, but it’s a question for a later class. There is a vast train of topics we’ll get to later where that thought is much more relevant.”
“I bet Albert would think it’s relevant. If he thinks at all.” The other students gave an uncomfortable nod. Sophie’s words rang true.
“Who is Albert?”
“Albert Campbell. He’s one of the zombies. There’s a bunch of them here.”
Fred interjected, “You mean you haven’t noticed?”
“Sorry kids, I don’t believe in monsters.” Lanny gave a look as if to say, Good one. What kind of idiot do you take me for?
Perry laughed. “Nah dog—for real, their parts fall off and shit, yo. Like, I saw Albert’s jaw fall off one time in study hall.”
Rob had a real shit-eating-grin on his face. He looked like he was up to something. His hand creeped slowly into his book bag.
Lanny usually would welcome a side discussion, but this one seemed childish. He tried to veer the discussion back towards Descartes. “So Descartes developed a thought experiment in which he imagined that an evil demon might be deceiving him…”
“Look! Its Albert’s wiener!” Rob poked Sophie’s ear with the giant Slim Jim he had pulled out of his book bag. “It must have fallen off and now it’s going after Sophie!”
The class erupted in laughter.
“Give me that zombie wiener. I’m hungry.” Perry yanked the Slim Jim right out of Rob’s hand, stripped the plastic off in one smooth motion and took a big bite right off the top.
“Hey! He’s eating my wiener!” Rob sounded truly upset.
Lanny’s thoughts started to wander. He thought about the gray kids again. The one he saw in the bathroom, and the one who had mowed his lawn. Certainly, Albert must be one of these gray kids, he thought. Perry danced around the room, swinging his hips back and forth while he held the Slim Jim in front of his zipper and swung it in a circular motion. He started walking with the same slow awkward gait of the gray kid who had mowed Lanny’s lawn. He dropped the Slim Jim on the floor in front of him feigning as though it was accidental.
“Awe, my wiener fell off.” He exclaimed in a low slurred voice as if he was impersonating the gray kid.
Lanny started to consider the possibility that the students really weren’t messing with him. Maybe there were zombie students at Spoon County Community College!
Albert’s wiener flew across the room and struck Lanny across the face.
No comments:
Post a Comment