//------------------------------//
// The Trolley Problem 
// Story: The Trolley Problem 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

Vine noticed she was trembling and tried pulling herself together, but managed only to feel even more nervous now that she knew she appeared so. She took the last sip of water from her cup, dropped it in the paper bin beside the door, sat down on her stiff wooden chair and waited. Although she had spent the last five minutes pacing, her hooves were cold and clammy, as if the blood no longer wished to travel to them, and her teeth were pressed hard against each other, her jaw rigid-tense, which it had been for too long. She had, at first, listened carefully to each pair of muffled voices on mics and pondered her own answer to each question, but she was past that and wanted nothing else but for the whole ordeal to finish as soon as it possibly could. It was somewhat silly, she thought, to feel this way. After all, she had graduated. A good performance here today was not a necessity, but a bonus. But she wanted it to go well. Her brother had spoken so well at his finishing gig that it had landed him a job in the Canterlot offices within a year, where he remained to this day, earning good money, preparing to start a family. She smiled as she remembered how proud she had been. How he had smiled and said to her she was next. And maybe she would be. So then it was natural to be nervous. She wanted to do her family proud and contribute to the successes they’d had. She had studied hard, got the marks, graduated. Her parents were already proud. They already said they had everything they could have hoped for from their two children. She smiled a little to herself, nervously, but honestly. So, it really wasn’t that big of a deal, then. 

The sound of applause, a door swinging open and the loud boom of a voice on the microphone followed Plum in from his exit. He looked enormously relieved, with a big grin in place of what had previously been a pale and painful grimace while he’d awaited his turn on the stage. Vine forced herself to smile instead of panic. Now that the moment was upon her, she felt she could have waited a little longer after all. 

‘How was it?’ she asked him rather hoarsely. 

‘Great!’ said Plum, picking up his jacket and things. ‘It was all about this compromising email. If you told the boss his wife was having an affair or not. They liked how I said no.’ He laughed with the lightness of the pony feeling very relieved. ‘Thanks for asking,’ he went on, ‘and good luck, and yeah, catch you out there when it’s over?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling, her jaw rebelling painfully against the movement. ‘Sure, cool! Well done!’

‘Thanks,’ he said again, pushing open the doors to the long, quiet backstage corridor. ‘And good luck! You’ll be fine!’

Vine got to her hooves unsteadily. Her brain was pulsing along with her heartbeat, and she was beginning to feel very heavy, in an uncomfortable, invasive way, as if there were someone holding on to her legs as she walked through the stage doors and backstage, where a few of the staff were fiddling with whatever it was they were there to fiddle with. One of them was standing over an intimidating-looking board covered in switches that adjusted, presumably, the volume of the microphones. It was weird how so much pain went into something as simple as speaking into a device to make your voice louder. It made her more nervous than ever to think she was about to be part of it. Professor Live was not speaking into his microphone. In fact, he was on his hooves too and speaking to someone on the stage, in front of the crowd of parents and students and whoever else had felt like coming along, all of them sitting informally in the same cheap wooden chairs she and Plum had been using in the green room. The hall was big and roomy, and that made her feel a little less tight in the chest. It felt freer than she had hoped. She’d expected she’d know how it felt like to handle a public speech since she had actually given a few lectures to first- and second-years, but they were quiet, sleepy teenagers up at 9AM, not eager, expectant adults waiting to hear her immediate, improvised insights on a moral dilemma. And then of course there were the judges, three guest outsiders with successes in the real world, armed with their buzzers, the real reason this room was scarier now than she’d ever thought it could be. She smiled awkwardly at the blurry faces of the hall as if she recognised some of them, but she didn’t. She tried staring at the ceiling, thought it looked a little forced, and so she settled on the far wall and doors, waiting for someone to tell her to sit down beside Live once he’d resumed his seat. He wasn’t in any hurry. Now that she was waiting again, she wanted to start. 

‘OK, so here we are for the final time today,’ Live said abruptly, stepping forward with the microphone. ‘And we’ve saved the best for last, of course.’ He chuckled at his non-joke, but everyone joined in indulgently, which only made Vine notice her face go red. She was still smiling though, so that was something. ‘So, again, a congratulations from me and Social Sciences to Vine, who has graduated with a distinction. Well done, Vine!’

He started to clap and everyone joined in. Vine took this as the cue to walk to her seat. It was comfy at least, she thought, as she sat down, smiling, her mind oddly blank but strained as if she couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking about but wanted to. Live smiled at her and waited for the applause to subside. He then said, ‘Oops,’ and handed her the free microphone that was sitting on the small desk beside him. There was a little flutter of laughter. She laughed too, but didn’t find it particularly funny. 

‘So, Vine, nice to see you, to have you with us,’ Live said, leaning forward in his chair to speak to her. ‘How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?’

‘Nervous,’ she had mumbled before she could stop herself, and she smiled as a few others smiled indulgently at this.

‘You’ll be fine,’ said Live reassuringly, ‘you’ll be fine. Now.’ He bent over to study the papers on the desk. ‘Your question today is...’ Vine used his pause to compose herself and waited, hoping it wouldn’t be anything like Plum’s email. ‘Would you save two ponies’ lives by taking that of another and why?’ 

Vine relaxed a little at once, as it was hardly something she hadn’t heard before. The trolley problem, and an age-old topic of debate it was, in class and out. She’d thought about it before, of course, and had actually discussed it briefly with her brother in preparation, on the off chance it would be what she was asked. And it was, so that was quite a stroke of luck. She smiled, and she felt warmth in her neck and shivers quite different to those she’d had a minute ago. It was quite the stroke of luck indeed. 

‘Professor,’ she said but with the mic too close to her mouth that her voice made the front rows jolt a little and chuckle at their surprise. She smiled her sorry and continued. ‘Could I ask how I would be taking that other life?’

‘I suppose that’s up to you,’ said Live and he smiled back. ‘It’s just as I read it. There aren’t any additional points. Do you bring it up because the manner in which you would take it would influence your decision?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose it would have to, otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it.’ It was true, but Vine regretted the way she’d expressed this. It didn’t sound very considered. Still, a few ponies looked amused and a few were nodding, apparently tickled by this unremarkable statement. ‘I mean, it could. Let’s say... let’s say I were killing this pony by torturing him to death.’ It sounded worse than she had wanted it to, so she moved on quickly. ‘Just hypothetically. So one could argue that the pain you are causing to the pony is not worth the two lives you could save. But then you could also argue that it is. So that’s something of a dead-end hypothetical, but it’s an important point to highlight in the decision-making process because it highlights what your values are. But it’s not the question.’

Live was nodding; he seemed on-board and happy. She chanced a look at the judges, panicking slightly as she had almost forgotten they were there. They seemed interested, but other than that there wasn’t much she could glean from their otherwise blank faces. She coughed a little and continued. ‘I mean, it really does depend on the specific example though. Because if that were the example, the one I just gave, most ponies, I’d assume, would say, “no”. They wouldn’t kill the pony.’

And as she had expected, the audience mumbled and nodded its agreement. 

‘But for the question you’ve asked me,’ she said. ‘My answer... is also no.’

Live raised his eyebrows, and she felt a little uneasy. It wasn’t polite surprise for the sake of the audience, though that was undoubtedly what he meant by it. It seemed to betray something deeper than that. As if he had genuinely not expected to hear what he had. Had it been her answer that shocked him or the speed of it?

‘You wouldn’t take the life of another pony to save the two?’ repeated Live.

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she said, ‘and my reason why is that it would not only be murder were I to do it, but a hypocrisy on my part should I believe it to be the right decision to kill the pony to save the others because I categorically believe, as most ponies do, that murder is wrong. And to believe it to be right in this context shows either that I do not believe murder to be wrong or that I believe murder is right under certain circumstances, which I have just claimed not to believe and don’t. So I would therefore have to say no. I wouldn’t kill a pony to save two.’ 

She hadn’t imagined it. It was as if she’d said something offensive, because Live wasn’t smiling nearly as convincingly as he had been a minute beforehand. He looked somewhat nervous, truth be told, and it made her instantly nervous again. What had she said? Had she made a clumsy statement or reasoning? She didn’t think she had. It had made sense. She would be a hypocrite if she’d said yes, and she had explained why that would have been the case had she done so. But Live looked uneasy, and she chanced another glance at the judges. They were paying rapt attention to her, and that surprised her even more. Was it that good? She hadn’t exactly made a difficult point, albeit a reasonable one.

‘So you’d say no. Interesting.’ Live had recovered his smile, and he nodded enthusiastically. ‘Of course it isn’t as simple as how you’ve described it. Murder, to use your word, may not be “right” in that context, but it could be considered acceptable if it is necessary evil to save the other two.’

‘But acceptable is just a euphemism for right in that context, isn’t it?’ said Vine quickly, as quickly as the point reached her head. ‘Because it may not be morally right, as you have put it, but it’s right enough for the person making the decision to, well, make it. It’s the right decision for the person making it. So I think calling it acceptable evil could just be a coping mechanism to justify a deed you consider to be wrong.’

‘I mean, I am playing devil’s advocate here a bit,’ chuckled Live, ‘but I don’t think it’s quite that simple. Murder is also a point at which I could see some disagreement. If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll bring up a different example.’ Live took a second and then continued. ‘Murder is the intentional unlawful killing of another pony, but what if it were lawful? If you were killing the pony to save the other two, and it were lawful, just for the sake of the argument, would it be right? Because your argument hinges on your belief that murder is wrong. But what if it isn’t murder?’

Vine thought about it for a moment. It was a strange tack, playing around with a definition they both knew. It made her feel unsure about where Live was taking this. 

‘Well... it may not be murder in your example, then, but it is still taking the life of a pony against their wishes. And that’s the fundamental point that makes it wrong. A pony who wishes to be euthanised is not being killed against their will. And let’s say then, because it is an open question, if the case were a pony who wishes to die rather than to live, if that were the pony we would kill to save the other two, I would probably say yes. But that’s the point. The lawfulness of the act isn’t the problem for me, it is the reality that you would be ending a life against the wishes of its owner. Assuming that the pony in the question wants to keep his life, and I think that’s quite safe to assume. It’s open, as I said, so in my answer, I have made the assumption that the pony wants to stay alive and I do not believe that taking his life against his wishes is right. I think it is fundamentally wrong, and I do not think the circumstances change the fact that I believe it is fundamentally wrong. I do not want the circumstances to force me into doing something wrong, even if I can’t do something right in an idealised sense. The two ponies will die someday anyway. We all die. And that can be said for the one whom I would be killing, but again, I would be killing him. I wouldn’t be killing the other two.’

‘But,’ said Live, ‘what if your inaction is tantamount to killing the other two?’

‘I considered that at the start,’ said Vine, nodding, ‘and I can see what you mean by it, but you aren’t taking their lives. You have agency. By not using it to save them, are you the agent who takes their lives? Maybe, if specifically as a result of your not using it, they die. But they would have died anyway, without your interference, I can assume. Here their being saved depends entirely on your taking the life of another. If you do nothing, they die. If you aren’t present to take the life, they die anyway. So your doing nothing isn’t that which takes their lives. I am not going to place myself into the role of god and decide I have the right to call what I established I believe to be wrong right so as to save two others that were, we could say, destined for the chopping block. So that would be my response to that point.’

‘OK. OK, I think we’re with you.’ Live was nodding again, but the hall was quiet. Vine took another look. Most were impassive; some looked as though they were struggling to keep up. The judges were writing something, but it couldn’t be all bad, she consoled herself. They hadn’t pressed their buzzers. She was still alright. She wasn’t one-hundred percent sure how accurate or logically consistent what she was saying was, but that was the point of the finishing gig, to test you on your hooves and see how you stood up to the moment. She was doing OK. She tried to find her parents in the crowd, to see what their faces said they thought, but Live was speaking again.

‘OK. So. Here, again, I’m going to step in with another perspective.’ He nodded, thoughtful. ‘What if the pony you would be killing to save the other two was a criminal, or perhaps a murderer? A serial killer, who would happily see them dead? Would that influence your decision?’

‘No, because I already pointed out the hypocrisy that would be inherent in my decision were it influenced by circumstances. I am still taking his life against his wishes, and that is wrong. His rights and wrongs, surely, are irrelevant. If I took them into account, I would be conceding that murder is right, acceptable, whatever you call it, if I felt OK about it because, let’s say, the one who I would be killing killed my mother or my brother. And how I feel doesn’t determine what’s right and what’s wrong. Take the two I would be saving out of the equation, and we all agree I’d be murdering the one pony, whatever he has done with his life. With them in the equation, were I to kill him and call it right, I would be choosing to gloss over the fact that I had so as to feel better about the way I saved the two ponies. And it works both ways if you think such details are relevant. What if the two ponies you’d be saving were murderers? Would you kill the innocent one to save them?’

This impressed the audience. There were mutterings and mumblings, head-noddings and, to her slight embarrassment, a brief round of applause. Live was smiling.

‘Very good, very good, Vine. Very good.’ The judges were nodding as enthusiastically as he was. ‘But I wonder... if I were to make this even more difficult.’ He paused. ‘What if you were saving one hundred ponies?’

‘Well, that isn’t the question,’ said Vine, feeling much more confident now that it seemed the worst had passed and the hall was on her side. ‘But I can’t see how what I’ve said wouldn’t apply to that too.’

Live looked a little confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I would have to say I couldn’t murder the pony. Not even to save one hundred. As horrible as it might sound, the same reasoning applies. The number of ponies I’d be saving doesn’t neutralise, sweeten or change the fact that I’d be killing the one to save them, and we went over that already.’

An uncomfortable silence followed this, and Vine felt herself slowly stiffening back into the nerves and defensive position she’d assumed before. It was unnerving, how quickly the atmosphere had changed from one of genial indulgence to quiet disbelief. 

Live wasn’t smiling anymore. In fact, there was something in his eyes. Again, like what she’d seen before, but more pronounced. More sure of itself. Almost like… Triumph.

‘I’m not so sure about that one, Vine,’ he said slowly. ‘One hundred ponies. That’s this entire room. You’d be happy to see that?’

‘Well,’ stammered Vine, trying to backtrack quickly, all too aware of the stares of the hall and the three judges. She hoped she imagined that those stares were cold. ‘Of course I wouldn’t want to see one hundred ponies die. I wouldn’t be happy, of course not, but I have to be consistent. The point is it’s wrong to kill a pony and I can’t play around with that fact to suit my personal feelings. It’s dishonest and, frankly, I think it’s dangerous. I don’t want one hundred ponies to die, and god forbid I ever find myself in a situation like that where they might, but... but that wasn’t the question... anyway...’

She stopped and gulped, glancing at the judges. They were huddled together, muttering. She searched for her parents’ faces again, aware that everyone was quiet and looking at her as if she were... a criminal? But that was what it felt like. She gulped again. It was a horrible feeling, really. As if she were on trial. She wasn’t imagining that, was she? Perhaps it was the nerves. But sure enough, the faces of the hall were either worried or cold. She felt her legs trembling again. 

‘Well by that logic,’ said Live, ‘were the entire population of the planet to be saved by the taking of another life, you wouldn’t take it.’

And that was when Vine felt a surge of impatience, indignation, fear and dismay at the same time. ‘Well, no, I wouldn’t. I have to be consistent. I’m not… I wouldn’t do it. I –’

The buzzers rang. They rang so loudly she felt the shock of the crowd as keenly as her own as the room jolted collectively, and then she saw that Live was taking her microphone from her, shaking his head. 

‘Disappointing,’ he muttered to her quietly, frowning as if she’d done him a serious wrong. He found the smile on his face and spoke cheerfully back into the microphone. ‘So that’s three buzzers from the judges. Bad luck, Vine, commiserations. I’m afraid there might have to be a bit more studying, eh? Plenty of time for that.’ He chuckled warmly, and the hall joined in here and there, but jeeringly, mockingly, gleefully. Vine’s eyes felt hot and heavy, and she felt something slide down her cheek as her nose burned up to boot. ‘Just a little joke of mine. Yes, ah, commiserations, Vine, but also congratulations on your graduation! And thanks to everypony for making it out, there will be refreshments served in the concert hall for anyone who wishes to partake.’

The sound of seats being vacated and coats and bags being swept on, and Vine jumped off from the stage as soon as she could, then remembered she’d left her things in the green room. She doubled back, past the switch board and the staff clearing away her chair, opened the doors, dabbing her eyes with the back of her hoof. The room was quiet and empty. She sniffed. She felt dirty. Contaminated, and she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t said anything bad, but it felt as if she’d said the worst things she possibly could have, and she didn’t know why it felt like that. The way they had stared...

The doors to the corridor opened, and she looked up in surprise. It was –

‘Plum?’

She was shocked to see him so red in the face. He was looking at her as if she’d slapped him.

‘Oh... I... forgot my bag.’ He shuffled over to the seat where he had indeed left it, picked it up and turned to leave.

‘Hey!’ said Vine, wiping away the last of her tears and trotting after him. ‘Wait up!’

They walked into the long corridor, Plum not looking at her. She sniffed and said, ‘So that was rubbish. They all hated me.’

‘Yeah,’ said Plum, shaking his head. ‘That was something.’

‘Well, I thought it was going well until they were all looking at me as if I’d said I wanted to kill someone! What did I say that was so wrong? Clearly, they took issue with the whole “I wouldn’t save the planet like that” thing, but that wasn’t even the question! What did I do wrong?’

Plum was smiling, but she could tell straight away that it was not genuine. It was as strained as the one Professor Live had worn before the end, and it was plain Plum was keeping thoughts to himself. 

‘What is it?’ she asked, stopping. ‘What did I do? Was it that bad? Did I say something I didn’t notice? Well? What is it?’

Plum took a deep breath. ‘I... I don’t think we should be hanging out like this anymore.’

Of all the things she’d expected, this wasn’t it. Vine felt an unnerving stillness come over her.

‘Why?’ she asked, nearly whispered. Plum grimaced.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve always made allowances for you. Most of my friends don’t like you, and they don’t know why I speak with you. They actually thought we were dating...’ He went a little redder, cleared his throat, continued. ‘But it’s this, it’s things like this. What just happened there. You’re smart, but you aren’t... well, you aren’t right. You think you’re right, but that’s the problem. That’s what some people are like. They think they’re right about everything, and you just said you’d be happy to see the world die if it meant you wouldn’t have to do something you feel bad about...’

‘Killing an innocent person!’ said Vine, far louder than she thought she would, and the pain was coming now. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her eyes were still damp, but tearing up again. Her voice broke.

‘Killing everyone!’ shouted Plum back at her, and there was no mistaking the tone. The contempt. ‘You’re fun sometimes, but I can’t hang out with someone who thinks like this. It’s... it’s bad thinking. It’s hateful thinking. I can’t just... I just can’t keep doing it, and my friends have been saying it for ages, and after what I just saw...’ He took a deep breath. ‘That’s it.’ He walked off quickly, face bright red. Vine gave a whimper as spit, snot and tears connected themselves across her face. She ran back to the green room, crying, her mind buzzing blankly. 

The worst thing wasn’t that she’d failed to impress the judges, it wasn’t that she’d lost the audience, it wasn’t even that Plum had betrayed her. It was the wide, painful smiles of her mum and dad as she walked out to meet them ten minutes later, and the remnant reds of deepest embarrassment on both their faces as they hugged her far too heartily and whispered in her ears, far too encouragingly, that they were proud of her as she cried into their coats.