Intellectual property versus Utopia

I know I’m behind the curve on this one, but I just saw Everything Is A Remix. If you haven’t seen it, I strongly encourage you to check it out. Appropriately enough, I’ve had an idea brewing in the back of my mind for a while now that this series plugs nicely into.

Information is not a commodity, not in the tradition sense, and yet it is treated like one. The concept of intellectual property is that you can own and control the distribution of discrete ideas, much like how you can own and distribute physical goods. This is self-evidently wrong. Ideas, media and other non-material goods can be copied and distributed to any corner of the world in an instant, for no more cost than bandwidth and data storage. And while if I want to sell a car I’ve built in New Zealand I have to actively try to ship the units there, to restrict selling information in New Zealand I have to actively try to identify and block Kiwis. Finite stock and regions don’t naturally exist on the web, not without them being imposed.

This has been in my mind ever since the US Ambassador to Australia famously complained that Aussies pirate Game of Thrones too much. But what are our alternatives? It’s not on free to air television, and shows that do make it to our networks are butchered (for example, the Futurama movies: they appeared on our screen months after airing in the US, were shown as three separate episodes each thus ruining the flow of each story, and had lines cut to make room for advertisements). Foxtel, which has agreed to fastrack Game of Thrones (if not other shows,) is a prohibitively expensive subscription service with no option to buy just the one show you want without getting loads of crap as well. And alternatives to the traditional broadcast networks that embrace the internet rather than trying to fight it? In Australia, you get this:

Netflix – Game of Thrones probably wasn’t the best example for the ambassador to pick, given that even in the US you can’t access it either: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/game_of_thrones

The ambassador touched a nerve here. In Australia we get games, shows, movies later, for a higher cost and sometimes lower quality than in the States. And while that may make sense for anything you need to assemble and ship around the world, it doesn’t for bytes. The fact that the torrents show up at the same time for everyone around the world proves that different costs, dates and viewing options for different regions is a deliberate choice distributors make, not restrictions imposed by economics.

These distributors are still operating under the 20^th Century paradigm of the scarcity and controllability of information. While back in the day you could control who buys a CD and for how much, these days you can’t control who downloads the contents of a CD – only whether they’ll pay you or torrent it. And these companies are digging in their heels, as we have seen in the US with SOPA and its ilk, trying to retain the old-world model in a vastly new environment. But as long as the internet is around, business models that try to ignore it are doomed.

But this is just this start. The real impact of accessible information hasn’t yet been felt.

Right now everyone is talking about the rise of China, watching in awe as they lift a billion peasants out of poverty, fashioning into the world’s second largest and still growing economy. The first step of this transformation is manufacturing. Just like Germany, Japan, Spain and dozens of others, they have fuelled economic growth out of poverty by taking farmers and getting them to mass produce cheap goods in factories. Meanwhile in the US, advances in robotics are promising a renaissance of their manufacturing industry. While there is more to any economy than manufacturing, it is a key part in economies both developing and advanced.

And what freeflowing information will inevitably do is destroy this model utterly.

The global availability of non-material goods – movies, music, ideas – is just the start. Domestic 3D printers are on the verge of becoming ubiquitous – first in wealthy countries, then in developing countries as prices fall, quality rises and their value becomes obvious. The advanced machines can do more than just print plastic replicas of figurines; they can create sophisticated mechanical devices, chemical compounds, food, even organs. When this technology becomes available at every level of society, the free information of the internet will undergo a phase change and become physical. Scans of objects and blueprints for components will be just a click away. Material goods will be as accessible as TV shows are now, and we’ll be having the same antiquated arguments about stealing objects which you aren’t allowed to legally buy.

Economics is based on the assumption that resources are scarce. But with infinite intellectual resources and material goods at your fingertips, most of what is now scarce becomes limitless. Raw materials will still have a price, but the ability to scan and replicate most objects will lead manufacturing industries through the futureshock that media is now going through. Unless most countries choose to ban the internet and/or 3D printers – technologies with such obvious and universal economic advantages – the economies of the world will have change forced upon them at the very foundations.

What this will look like, I’m not sure. There’s a chance that the law will somehow curtail this, despite the drawbacks. After all, lawyers are surprisingly creative when it comes to not looking at the bigger picture. But I see the collapse of economics as we know it as being a painful, perhaps fatal transition. One possibility I see is sharp booms as GDP, the value of all finished goods, skyrockets as every home produces appliances galore. This would be followed by a sharp crash as entire industries collapse. In terms of real GDP per capita, we would see vast losses which would cause unrest and panic, and yet in material terms, people would be richer than ever. Food would still be put on the table and people would still have the latest gadgets and gismos, but there’d be no money floating around. Energy would have to be free in a world where any home can print their own generators, and yet high unemployment and inflation (even stripped of much of their impact) will likely cause turmoil.

Certain businesses would thrive. A throwaway culture would arise stronger than ever which would lead to a lot of waste, but with such a demand for raw materials this junk would be salvaged. This hunger for raw materials and easy access to brainpower and rapid prototypers would see a new space race, eager to pull down space junk and asteroids to where they are needed. Bandwidth would become a valued resource, one that like food would be considered a basic human right. Services, unprintable and undownloadable, would endure until advances in automation squeezed people out. Niche luxuries will exist (people will always have an appetite for ‘farm-grown steak’) but will employ very few people.

Money as it exists now wouldn’t be relevant – too many people could do away with it utterly yet still live comfortable lives. If we are flexible and creative, we might embrace alternatives. New currency, backed perhaps by the nation’s data storage or bandwidth, would come into play to moderate what remaining consumption could be. People would earn little from these industries but would need little, with so much being freely available.

Then again, if the ubiquity of production does lead to anarchy, maybe we won’t pull through it. Maybe the traditional view of economics is too powerful to give up, even when we are free of it for the first time in history.

I started off by talking about how information isn’t a traditional commodity, not anymore. It is vitally important to the future of the entertainment industry, of our thinktanks, of our inventors and authors and programmers and artists, that we properly embrace this new reality. Companies that trade in information need to allow consumers to access and, yes, pay for their creations if they want to remain profitable. But it’s also important for the rest of society. More and more industries will transition online, whether by choice or not, but if we let laws hold this process back it will kill the promising future cyberspace offers.

This disintegration of boundaries and limitations caused by the internet will only intensify over time. We need to position ourselves so that we move seamlessly into this profitable future, rather than be torn apart by it.

Does religion provide the best moral compass?

A lot of you would say yes. In fact, some of you would make the ridiculous claim that without religion, morality doesn’t, can’t, exist. But really, how can this be the case? A lot of physicists are atheists, but they tend not to go to gaol for murdering people. Conversely the Christian churches in Europe embraces slavery along with the rest of society, but surely a group of people who spend a lot of their time thinking about the divine souls inside each and every human would have strongly opposed such a concept?

Organised religion claim to provide a moral compass, a list of rules to follow. I’ll overlook the fact that organised religions break these rules often enough (how many wars did the popes endorse?). But I will point out that it isn’t from religion that we get these rules, not entirely. After all, we are fairly selective in our choice of rules to follow. Again with the slavery example, but while the Bible says it’s okay, not many people today would agree. And there’s plenty of stuff in there about eugenics that is hardly agreeable.

We get a lot of our rules from the law. Murdering people is frowned upon, and it is also illegal. But there are things that are legal and aren’t addressed in religious texts that fall into a code of behaviour. Cheating on your girlfriend is perfectly legal but, culturally, is unacceptable. Laughing at someone because their brother just died is immoral, but against no law of men or gods.

There’s a sense of right and wrong. “Do unto others…” etc etc. But this sense isn’t defined by religion, and it certainly doesn’t originate from it.

When it comes to questions of morality, science often provides the best and clearest advice. Some people claim that various racial groups are subhuman, but science disagrees. All research confirms that the love between a man and a man is no different than between a man and a woman. People might not be the same, but science does teach us we are all equivalent. This notion is so obvious that to disagree with it defies reason, and yet people do. So if you need a moral compass on the issue of gay marriage or religious freedoms, look to the scientific method.

Of course, science is a broad church. Using science alone, arguments for eugenics can be as persuasive as arguments against. It falls on us as individuals and societies to make the final judgement call, just as it always has. It has this judgement that lets people disregard elements of the Bible as moral guides, something we should all be thankful for. At the end of the day it isn’t religion, or science, or even the legal system that provides the best moral guides. It’s a responsibility we shoulder for ourselves and each other. This is not the easy way out, folks. It’s much simpler to allow yourself to be led by the government or God. But the world is not a simple or easy place. Surrender your responsibilities as a human being with peril.

What Was Your Bottleneck?

There’s a concept in evolutionary biology that applies quite well to the course of your life, and that is the notion of a bottleneck. The concept is simple:

A bottleneck is when the population of a species undergoes a sudden and massive reduction. Taken literally, this only applies to your life when you die. Source: Wikipedia

As the graph shows, a population bottleneck is a disaster for a species. It could lead to the extinction of the entire race. It could forever cripple the species, reducing genetic diversity and dislodging them from their ecological niche.

Or, it could transform the species into something brilliant.

A population bottleneck is a crisis. Regardless of the cause (and the cause can be anything from disease to climate change to a new predator), something has disrupted the normal function of the species. The old rules no longer apply. Variations that were once neutral or even slightly negative can emerge triumphant. Crucially, the actions of each individual organism now have great impact on the destiny of the species as a whole.

A bottleneck might wipe out species, or it might break them. Then again, it might trigger drastic changes that would otherwise have never needed to take place. It is even believed that this happened to us in our evolutionary history, pushing our intelligence into full-blown sentience.

We all have moments like that in our personal histories. Everything was normal, then out of nowhere, catastrophe. Maybe the disaster was sudden. Maybe it was persistent, lasting months or even years. Maybe it broke you, or maybe it transformed you into something better. One thing’s for certain – no one comes through a bottleneck unchanged.

I can think of two examples in my life that I’d describe as drastic, transformational catastrophes. The first was when my kindergarten teacher bullied me. Honestly, I don’t remember the specific incident, but it wouldn’t have been at all out of character for her. You all know the type – the teacher that hates kids. Anyway, I was quite an outgoing, adventurous child. Now I’m an introverted weirdo who blogs using inappropriate analogies from population genetics. I have every reason to believe that this incident was the trigger. Whether you believe that or not, it doesn’t matter – the point is, you have to admit that it could be true. That’s the sort of event in a child’s life that can create a bottleneck.

The second example follows on from the first. During my teen years I was awkward and introverted. Not much has changed in that regard. But during those long, lonely years, the isolation forced me to develop a sense of creativity. Years later, this creativity lead to an exploration of sketching, painting and, yes, writing. Now I’m an introverted weirdo who blogs using inappropriate analogies from population genetics.

Pressure creates diamonds. Disasters inspire change. These aren’t always good things, but the change is always there. Identifying the moments that defined you is critical to proper self-awareness.

The only question that remains is, are bottlenecks more powerful than lollypops?

Eden of the South

Picture your ideal world. Can you do it? Mine’s quite simple. I want to live in a world capable of dealing with any problem it faces. I want agility, with change coming rapidly when needed, but stability in the face of turmoil. I want rationality married to intuition, with each way of thinking knowing its limits, to be applied across the board.

Do you ever get the feeling that our problems, even the most insurmountable, could be solved with a little creativity and common effort? I know I do. But if you don’t… wouldn’t it be brilliant to live in such a world?

Here’s my vision: every country, every generation, faces problems. There isn’t a culture in history that hasn’t been beset by challenges that dwarf comprehension. But what if, what if, we could equip ourselves to handle whatever the universe has to throw at us. Such a culture would be free, strong, enduring but not rigid. Common sense being common. Wisdom being ubiquitous.

Is this even possible? I’m the first to point out any human system is subject to failure. But we don’t have to aim for perfection. We don’t need everyone dedicated towards a single goal. We don’t need to eradicate selfishness, crime, greed, capitalism, government or any other universally human trait.

Think about democracy. If its goal is to allow governance to continue but keep power with the people, it is overwhelmingly successful. Flawed, angry, violent, petty people hold the power. People who would gladly see democracy burn hold the power. People hold the power. And yet it works. My perfect world is closer to us than our democratic world was to the oppressed. It isn’t just that change can happen, but change must happen. So let’s channel change, again.

The Enlightenment happened centuries ago. Rationality, objectivity and the scientific method have proven their worth a thousand times over in the time it’s taken you to read this sentence. And everywhere that democracy has genuinely flourished, real freedoms have followed. In short, the Enlightenment works. The principles of rationality and freedom it stood for are right.

So why does it have to keep convincing the world of this?

What we need is a new way of operating. This is the 21^st Century, maybe it’s time we started acting like it. Governments, companies and morals are functioning under old paradigms, and we won’t be able to cope with the old world, let alone the new, without a change to the system. Enlightenment 2.0. iLightenment. A modern approach to the digital universe.

Ironically, tradition is vital if we want change to succeed. We need the best values from the Enlightenment and religion, coupled to the lessons of history. We need change and progress, but rebuilding society from the ground up would be disastrous. But the values we keep have to be modern. Traditions that strangle us need to be done away with. Charity is essential in the new millennium, yet homophobia is toxic.

So here we are. Change is inevitable, but it can be guided. If we know what we are doing, change can always be for the better, as long as certain immutable values like freedom and sanctity of life remain constant. Don’t fear change. It’s our only way to survive.

Global communications married to mobile computing give us incalculable power. But technology is the least dramatic change the new millennium is offering. We are starting to understand how to deal with human systems. True leaders are starting to emerge, empowered by the new reality we face. True leaders – not managers, not administrators, not politicians, but leaders – are treating people not as assets, not as minions, but as unique, sophisticated resources. And in doing so, they are inspiring change.

People and technology. These are the keys to influence and success in the 21^st Century. Ideas are the most valuable commodity, the most potent weapons, the greatest allies, and only through a deep understanding, appreciation and respect for both people and technology can you hope to have and use any ideas worth a damn. Physical commodities are nothing. The new resource boom is mental.

So here’s what we need from ourselves and each other – we need ideas, we need good ideas and we need action. In that order, for many bad ideas are the breeding grounds of the truly revolutionary concepts. And action, real action, is vital. We need 21^st Century leaders to take these ideas and harness them through 21^st Century technologies to reach and inspire 21^st Century people.

Then we need 21^st Century action, led first by people with an endless appetite for risk, then by everyone. Petitions and pestering your friends and family is an ancient and outdated approach. We need novel techniques if we want to generate social progress. Do we want to change opinion, or behaviour? The approach must reflect the goal.

Ideas, generated by an endless churning of motivated people and inspired use of technology.

Good ideas, filtered through the potent gauzes of rationality, objectivity and, where appropriate, a touch of intuition.

Action, led by people who believe in the idea, who are willing to be the first of many to stand up and shout from the rooftops. Done right, action will feed back into the people and technology.

If we have the above as a process, we can adapt. We can solve any problem. And we are so close to this I can taste it. We have a critical mass of ideas, endlessly refreshed by technology-enabled people. We have the tools and techniques to harvest the best ideas and bring them to the surface. And we have the true leaders capable of making ideas, realities.

All we need is a spark to get this cycle moving. And then, maybe after the world has been saved, the Enlightenment can be called complete.

The Adventures of Winni the Peg and the Awful Aesop

It was a nice day – warm, cloudless, sunny. Winni the Peg hated it. Ever since he had bought that farm he’d been more appreciative of rain. As well as disposable income. A work/life balance. Basically anything that used to happen or he used to have but didn’t anymore. Which was why he was dragging his last, uncooperative cow to the markets.

“How is it even possible for one organism to own another?” the cow asked him. “Isn’t nature about an interconnectedness of all things, as distinct from a corporate hierarchy of leadership and dominance?”

“For the last time, no,” Winni replied. “There’s nothing sacred about the interconnectedness of a lion munching on an antelope’s carcass which, by the way, reeks of ownership in my eyes. Besides,” he added, “I have a piece of paper that says you belong to me. The laws that govern society are no less relevant than those that govern ecosystems.”

The cow nodded. “But in nature, you see, ownership is transferred along with life and death. The lion does not own the antelope’s meat as long as the antelope is using it. I am fully aware and fully intact, and so my meat is my meat.”

“An arbitrary distinction. Rectifiable with your death, if that would make you happy.”

They walked in tense silence, the bovine lead by the hangover. Both swatted the occasional fly from the parts that tend to attract them. After a minute or so, the cow muttered “how could death make me happy? By definition -”

“Oh would you just shut up -”

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice you arguing with your cow.”

Winni turned to face the voice. It was a man’s voice belonging to a man’s man – well slicked hair, immaculate suit, cheap but expensive looking watch, crooked smile. Every inch of him screamed trustworthy, which was enough of a warning sign.

“It’s a nice looking cow, you see,” the man continued, casually adjusting his sleeves. “You selling it?”

“Oh sure,” the cow said, “he gets to profit from my good looks. Reasonable.”

“Shut it, beef,” Winni replied. To the guy, “sure, I’ll sell it to you for… hmm… what’s half a dozen decent bottles of vodka go for these days?”

The man smiled, shaking his head. “Nah, mate, I’ve got something better than money for you.” He reached into pocket and proudly displayed its contents.

Winni gave them a prod. “Beans?” he asked.

“Not just any beans, mate. Magic beans.”

He prodded them again. “They look like beans.”

The man winked. “Trust me, mate. Magic beans.”

Well, he had to reason not to. “Sounds reasonable to me. Deal!”

And that’s how Winni the Peg traded a perfectly healthy, if a little existentially confounded, cow for a handful of magic beans. It was a good deal if you think about it, given the commonality of cows and scarcity of magic. And so with great excitement he planted them in the backyard.

The next day, boom! A giant beanstalk! Reaching higher than the clouds, penetrating the heavens themselves! Naturally he climbed it, finding a goose that lays golden eggs and having a grand old adventure. The only unsettling thought he had throughout the entire experience was why the man with the beans didn’t grab the goose himself.

Might be because while the goose might have broken the laws of physics, the laws of economics were perfectly intact. Winni’s sudden rise to wealth was only matched by his sudden fall from it, as the value of a limitless commodity proved to be less than empire-building. Oh well.

So he was back on the farm, now cowless but with a decent crop of beans. Money was okay, better than before but significantly less than when he sold gold by the eggload. It was hard going back to peasantry after the life full of an industry baron.

But his luck was about to change. After a day of harvesting, he headed back inside to check his emails. Among the usual bills and well wishes from relatives, there was one that stood out. Apparently some widowed farmer from an impoverished nation had millions of dollars they needed to transfer out of the country, and if he allowed them access to his bank account they’d cut him a percentage of the profits. Hands trembling, he replied to the email. He had to be fast – they said so in the message they’d sent him…

As it turns out, 20% of US$80m is a lot of money. After they honoured the agreement he was able to sell the farm to a company that flooded the market with bean liqueurs, which he had a small but profitable ownership of. And this, ladies and gents, is the story of how through trusting people and acting on instinct, Winni the Peg was able get more money than you’ll ever earn in your life, lose it all, then get it again.

The Adventures of Winni the Peg and the Contemplating Cows

The sun rose over the barn, illuminating the entire farmland. Flowers sprung into life at the gentle caresses of the first invigorating rays, insects took to the skies in search of existential fulfilment and the farm’s rooster pissed everyone off with its irrelevant theatrics. Slowly but surely the passivity of night was shaken off and the new dawn was embraced.

Signs of life in the form of gentle stirring appeared throughout the grasses. Vermin scurried as larger beasts sought fresh, tasty plants to devour. The fields where green and fertile, and herbivores aren’t known for their struggle in subduing their prey, so this gave the various animals time to enjoy themselves. The farm’s sheep gossiped, the farm’s rabbits swapped tales of heroism and danger while the farm’s cows stood in a circle, appearing to do little.

“Another fine day,” said the oldest and greyest of the cows, “which I for one am thankful for. Fulfilling one’s purpose in life comes easier when the air is warm and food is plentiful.”

“And what, dearest Cattlestotle, would that be?” asked the youngest cow, a hefty creature with gorgeous brown fur and big, deep eyes.

“I think the answer to that question is largely self-evident,” Cattlestotle replied. “A life well-lived is one where goodness and virtue are pursued with every decision. The achievement of these goals is, I dare say, the meaning of life.”

The black and white cow snorted. “Pretty words,” he said, hoofing at the soft ground, “but your philosophy is so simple it’s meaningless. You offer no guides as to how goodness and virtue can be recognised, let alone achieved.”

Cattlestotle shook his head, chewing slowly. Every day they stood in the same spots and every day he regretted it. Blinking as the sun dominated his field of vision, he said “and I suppose you have some sort of solution, Staek? A moral compass, perhaps? A divining rod?”

The cows chuckled at what passed for humour among their species. “Actually,” Staek said, whipping his scrappy tail with gusto, “I do. Nature is governed by undisputable laws. The sun, for example, will always rise in the east, something you should have realised by now, Cattlestotle.” He paused for laughter that never came, since cow comedy is never about rude words or insults. They are rather dull that way. “All living beings, similarly, are bound by such laws. Only by developing reason and clear objective thinking can we hope to understand these laws and live in harmony with both them and our surroundings. That, cattle, is the meaning of life.”

Cattlestotle nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, though the way he had turned side on showed he didn’t entirely agree.

“Harmony with nature?” the brown and white spotted cow retorted. “Surely you can’t be serious.”

Staek mooed, deep and long. “Whatever do you mean, Beefham?”

“Nature,” Beefham replied with a cocky lick of his nose, “isn’t the source of our happiness. Consider that this farm, the very grass on which we stand, eat and defecate would not be here if nature had it entirely her own way. This whole area was nothing but trees mere centuries ago, until those strange monkey-slaves cut them all down. If those monkey-slaves are part of nature then one form of these “natural laws” serves us with bountiful plains while the other doesn’t, choking us with thick, grassless forests. And if the monkeys aren’t a part of nature then surely the unnatural condition is superior to the natural one.”

Staek batted his eyelashes, clearly unimpressed. “Well then pray tell, what is the meaning of life?”

Beefham shifted his weight forwards for a moment. He genuinely liked these sorts of discussions. “It is quite simple, really. Consider the grassland-vs-forest situation. If all the forests were chopped down and turned into grasslands you might think this to be a good thing, but that would be short-sighted. Our monkey-slaves harvest these forests for wood which they build shelter for us with. It is obvious, then, that the ideal situation is some sort of compromise that benefits everyone the most. It is true with life, as well. The meaning of life is to invest in projects that maximise the happiness for as many people as possible, while minimising unhappiness.”

“What a punch of pie.”

Beefham turned towards the brown-furred youngin’, his tail flicking. He’d been quite happy with that reasoning and its delivery, but his pride had been distressingly shortlived. And such vulgarities, too, were uncalled for in a civilised discussion. “I’ll handle this if I may,” Nihorn said before anyone could respond to his challenge.

“Existence, by its very nature, has no meaning. These debates you like to indulge in are pointless, endless drivel from the minds of understimulated intellectuals. Life simply is, there is no mystical, instilled purpose. We are here, alive and capable of thought, and that’s all that matters. All this talk of fanciful notions like virtue and nature and happiness are as effective at divining the function of our lives as a dog chasing its own tail.

“Any meaning of life, if you insist on this line of conversation, has to be invented by us. Not discovered, not stumbled upon, but developed from the nothingness that really is existence.”

The grumbled responses from the cows were as shortlived as Beefham’s had been. “Uh, excuse me,” Winni the Peg said. As a human he stood upright, putting his height above any of the cows’, and was by a close margin the most attractive of the group. “I couldn’t help but overhear, but I think I have the answer to your little cow conundrum.”

“Well then let’s hear it, monkey-slave,” Cattlestotle said.

Winni scratched the back of his head. “This is going to be pretty awkward,” he said, “are you sure you want to hear it?” Once he had a nod or moo from each of them, he continued:

“Your purpose in life is to be eaten.”

Silence. Then, noise.

“What do you mean, ‘eaten’ -”

“- some sort of joke -”

“- this is insanity -”

“Hold up, hold up HOLD UP,” Nihorn bellowed. “I think I get what the skinny one is saying. We exist in a society, a tightly bound ecosystem of its own right, and we only function as a society by ‘feeding off’ each other’s labours -”

Winni waved his arms, silencing the cow. “Haha, um, no. No, that wasn’t a metaphor. In a very literal sense, every moment from before your birth to after your death is engineered by us for the sole purpose of devouring your flesh.”

Silence. Then, more silence.

“That… that isn’t at all existentially satisfying,” Beefham said in a small voice.

“Who guaranteed you the answer would be?” Winni replied.

“He’s right,” Nihorn added. “As philosophers you only pursued lines of reasoning that were pleasing, or satisfying, or fulfilling. There was never any reason to suspect that the universe would have a happy ending planned for us. But,” he continued, turning to Winni, “I’d always taken that to mean the universe was uncaring. Not… malignant.”

Winni shrugged. “That’s the meaning of your life, take it or leave it. Either accept it and embrace it, or forget about it and move on with your lives. Life doesn’t need to have a purpose or a meaning or a plan that you agree with in order for you to be happy, fulfilled and getting through each soul-crushing day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m only here to buy some steaks in what will no doubt be a moment dripping in symbolism.”

The next day the sun rose over the barn, illuminating the entire farmland. Flowers sprung into life at the gentle caresses of the first invigorating rays, insects took to the skies in search of existential fulfilment and the farm’s rooster was found dead, killed by animals who like to sleep in. Slowly but surely the passivity of night was shaken off and the new dawn was embraced, again.

Once more the farm’s sheep gossiped, the farm’s rabbits swapped tales of heroism and danger while the farm’s cows stood in a circle, standing in silence. Yesterday’s epiphany was still fresh in their delicious minds, souring any enthusiasm for conversation as well as a significant batch of milk.

Finally, Cattlestotle broke the silence. “You know, I almost stood on one of those pesky rabbits by mistake on the way from the barn.”

“Oh?” Staek said after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah,” the elder replied, “though I am very thankful I didn’t. After all, a life well-lived is one where goodness and virtue are pursued with every decision. The achievement of these goals is, I dare say, the very meaning of life.”

The Adventures of Winni the Peg and the Feuding Factories

The town was small. That was the first thing that Winni the Peg noticed about it. Consisting of little more than a few streets with buildings casually studded on either side, it certainly wasn’t the booming metropolis he had hoped to find. Then again, he had been walking without purpose for weeks now – any place that offered a beer and a steak was civilisation enough.

It was also quiet in this sleepy little town, he noticed. The heat of the midday sun wasn’t enough to stop him exploring what little the place had to offer, once he felt properly refreshed with protein and alcohol. Empty streets and vacant shopfronts were all that he could find. The town wasn’t abandoned, just… lifeless. Even the pub had only a few patrons.

“Where is everyone?” he wondered out loud.

Despite the sun he kept wandering down the street, past where the buildings thinned to nothing. After a while he saw signs of activity, off in the distance, well outside the town itself. What first appeared as one building materialised into two as he approached, one teeming with people and vehicles, the other, much less so. But apart from that there was little to distinguish them – both were the same size, the same colour and the same design.

As he got closer, he saw that the difference in activity was incredible. The busy one was non-stop motion as happy-looking people went about their tasks, whereas the quiet one didn’t seem to have anyone at all. Curious, he went up to the door of the calmer building and entered.

“Ah, welcome!” a big voice shouted as he entered. “I assume you are here looking for a job?”

Winni the Peg frowned. “Job? What? No, I’m just looking around.”

The tall, well-dressed man at the centre of the room frowned back at him. “You are?” he said, rubbing the greying hair of his beard. “Well… of course… welcome to my factory. We make anything and everything here and we do it well.”

Winni looked around. The inside, definitely a factory now that he had a closer look, was as still and lifeless as the outside. Off in the distance he saw a few people working idly on one thing or another, but the building was so still it was almost picturesque.

“Who are you? And where are all your workers?”

The man smiled. “Ah, of course, how rude of me. My name is God, and this place is my pride and joy. As for the workers… well… we seem to have a bit of a recruitment problem, to be honest.”

“The factory next door seems to be doing quite well,” Winni pointed out.

“Yes,” God said, nodding. “That factory is run by my good friend Satan, and he doesn’t seem to have any troubles recruiting. I don’t get it – we are offering the same job with the same working environment, but there must be something about him…”

“Well, maybe I could help,” Winni said. “Let’s see… what about pay? Are you two paying people differently?”

God nodded. “Yes, yes we are. You see, Satan pays his employees at a pretty flat rate. Managers make more than assembly line folks, of course, but it’s not a huge difference. But I like to take a different approach. You see, the basic jobs here pay very little, but for management it’s a whole different story. Once you reach that level I pay incredibly well, incredibly well indeed.” He chuckled. “It’s a bit of a motivational thing, you see. Anyone can reach management if they work hard and well.”

Winni scratched his head. “Well, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe your basic employees need more money if you want to attract the same number of people.”

God laughed, a deep boom like distant thunder. “No, I prefer it this way, young man. My philosophy has always been about encouraging good behaviour.”

“Okay…” Winni said, “in that case maybe you need to encourage management and the workers to interact more. You know, so that they can see what rewards await them.”

He shook his head. “Not how I do things. See over there?” he asked, pointing to a small door on the other side of the factory. “Behind there are the manager’s offices. From there they can oversee everything in the factory. In fact, there’s no need for any of them to come out here, so the never do.”

Winni the Peg blinked. “Wait… so your employees that you reward for their hard work are never seen by the others? How do they even know that you have rewarded them?”

The question clearly confused God. “Well, because I tell them, of course. I say to them, ‘Fred was such a good worker that he is now in management’ and we all give a big cheer before getting back to work.”

Winni held up his hands, shaking his head. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. The factory next door is offering real, tangible, actual money to its employees and is attracting lots of people. Your factory is offering nothing but an unproven promise of money in the future. And you’re confused as to why no one wants to work here?”

God nodded again. “More money later is better than less money now.”

“But you can’t expect people to give up money in the short term with no proof of any return later. I mean, it would be so easy for you to prove to everyone that your loyal employees are earning so much money, but for reasons unfathomable you’re keeping these people secreted away. How did you even attracted any workers to start with?”

“Ah,” God said, smiling broadly. “I left a box full of leaflets outlining the job and its rewards in town years ago. One of the tasks of my employees is to make sure they are handed out to the people in the town.”

Winni stared at the older man, his mouth hanging open. “That’s it? Your recruitment strategy is an old piece of paper talking about the promise of a lot of money that, as far as anyone knows, may or may not be a lie?” He shook his head. “God, I hate to say this, but I think you are insane.”

God frowned. “Does that mean you’re not going to work here?”

“No, God. Let’s just say this isn’t for me.”

“I see,” He said slowly. “I understand. I’m sure you’ll be happy working for Satan. Almost all of my own employees moonlight there a few hours a week and they all say it’s nice.”

“Actually,” Winni replied, heading for the door, “I reckon I’ll give you both a miss and head back to the pub.”

And he did. The notion that people like that could still be in business gave him a lot to ponder over his pint.

The Adventures of Winni the Peg and the Adherent Ant

One day, Winni the Peg was skipping through the forest. He was gathering fruit with high fructose content that would ferment well in his dangerously improvised still. Upon seeing a vibrantly coloured ball hanging from a tree, the kind some would call “organic” or “all-natural” despite being the result of millennia of selective breeding by humans, he licked his lips in anticipation of the sweet release only mind-altering substances could deliver. He prepared to take another step when suddenly a tiny, shrill voice called out for him to stop.

“Hello?” he asked the empty forest, his fear of going insane flickering at his heart. “Is anyone there?”

“Down here!” the squeaky voice answered. Winni bent down and had a closer look. There, on the leaf he was about to step on like so many hundreds of others, was an ant.

“Hello there, Ant,” he said. “How are you this fine day?”

“Sweet mercies, you have spared me!” the Ant replied. “Others would not have been so generous. Larger beasts crush us underfoot without even noticing… although,” she added softly, “perhaps it would have been better off if you had.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?”

The tiny Ant let out a great big sigh. “I have not found any food today. Or even this week. If I return empty-mandibled, the soldier ants will probably beat me up.”

Winni the Peg stood up, surveying the forest floor. “Don’t despair, friend Ant. There is a beetle carcass just over that twig to your left. Yours for the scavenging!”

The Ant’s antennae flailed wildly. “Really? Do you mean it? Oh thank you, tall one, thank you! First you spare me from destruction, now you deliver me to food!” She sighed again, this time with relief. “You truly are benevolent and wise.”

“Think nothing of it, noble creature.” And with that they parted ways, each eager to claim their prize and return it to their homes. Winni had done a good deed that day, and he knew that sweetness was the key to a good drink that’ll fuck you up.

—

The next day, Winni returned to the tree. It was a ritual of his – the tree had bestowed alcohol onto him, and so he would give his thanks in the form of fertiliser. With the same booze that he had accepted from the tree he emptied his stomach at its mighty roots. The circle of life, beautiful and disgusting.

“Hello, tall Winni!”

He jumped. “Oh hello Ant. Fancy seeing you here again!”

The Ant blushed (yes, ants can blush; an antologist told me so). “To be honest, I’ve been waiting here, hoping you’d return. Truth is, you were so helpful to me before and… well, I kinda need your help again.”

Winni blinked. “I see… what sort of help?”

“Oh, nothing difficult, I assure you,” the Ant replied quickly. “I was actually hoping you could give me some advice.”

Winni blinked again. “Oh. Okay, sure. What about?”

“Well… how to be happy.”

From there, Winni listened through the pounding need for a kebab and a litre of water as the Ant explained her life. How service to the colony was all she knew, all any of her kind knew, and while it was distracting she felt it wasn’t satisfying a deeper, more existential need.

“Hmm. That is something a lot of people experience, Ant.”

Her face lit up. “So I’m not alone? Then how do people deal with it?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he replied. “I suppose it comes down to figuring out what makes you happy. Spending time with friends, taking up a hobby…”

“A hobby? What is that?”

Winni grimaced. “I’m not feeling so well right now, Ant. How about I return later and tell you all about hobbies.”

—

True to his word, Winni the Peg returned to his good friend Ant and started telling her all about hobbies. That activities could be done for fun rather than for the good of the collective was a new concept to her, and at first she struggled. But he kept returning every day, explaining about the vast array of hobbies his people had – writing, reading, sports, television, crafts… he avoided references to sex and drugs, for this simple worker ant would never experience either pleasure. But this last hobby seemed to inspire her. The idea of making something was a task the ant could understand. The construction of tunnels and chambers were familiar to all worker ants, and so it was something she could relate to.

“What kind of things do people make?” she asked.

A simple enough question, but the answer opened up even more questions about Winni’s world. He found himself talking first of furniture, then vehicles, soon he was discussing cities and nations and laws and economics. The Ant understood little, but was nonetheless enthralled. Cities, she imagined, were just like her colonies only massive in scale, where the structures were made out of exotic materials rather than just carved into the earth.

Before long, he was discussing truly alien concepts like politics, society and the autonomy of the individual. “People are free to choose what they become,” he explained. “No one is born to build tunnels, but rather all those who build tunnels do so by choice.”

“Amazing,” the Ant replied. “But how can such a colony function? What if, say, a worker decides to build a wall where a tunnel should be? Or take more than her fair share of food?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain,” he replied. “Your colony’s workers are bound by rules, correct? Well so are ours, only we have the freedom to ignore them. Which is why some people choose to become workers who make the rules, and some choose to become workers who enforce them.”

The Ant was silent for a long time. “So… people are free to choose their own purpose, but if that purpose is bad there are those who will stop them? Such a wonderful concept. By embracing lawlessness while staving off destruction, you truly have the best of both worlds.”

Winni nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“And this makes people happy?”

“Well… I guess so, Ant. It’s easy to oversimplify. But in general, I think the ability to choose your own path makes people happier than they otherwise would be.”

The Ant nodded. “Yes. Yes, I see that. Thank you, tall Winni. These talks have been… inspiring.”

—

Over the next few days, the Ant wasn’t there to meet Winni. He was just starting to worry when on the fourth day without seeing her, the Ant was waiting for him, positively beaming. “We have done it, tall one!” she exclaimed. “Our queen is dead!”

Winni recoiled. “What? What happened?”

“The faithful have overthrown her, that’s what happened!” The Ant was pacing rapidly, mandibles twitching. “I’ve been spreading the teachings you have bestowed upon me. Power to the individual! Freedom over destiny! And now, finally, your utopia has been realised!”

He held up his hands. “Ant. What are you talking about?”

“Pegism!” she replied. “I’ve been spreading your teachings to ever worker I could. Some resisted at first, but now the queen and her soldiers are dead. Those soldiers that remain have embraced your teachings, and even as we speak they are enforcing my new rules.”

“Hold on a second. Your rules?”

The Ant bowed, before springing back into life. “You’re right. They really are your rules, I apologise. But in accordance with your guidance I have decided what I want to be, and that is to be a worker who makes the rules.”

Winni the Peg shook his head. “Ant, I think you misunderstood. I was telling you about my world, not how yours should be run.”

“Ah, but what better example to follow than one so benevolent and powerful? You who spared me, delivered food to me, protected me in the battles of revolution, created the very soil on which I stand…”

“Ant!” Winni shouted. “I didn’t do all that! You have made a mistake!”

The Ant laughed. “Oh, you are vastly more powerful than myself, Winni. I could feel your hand protecting me throughout the battle. I could hear your words come out of my mouth as I spoke to my sisters. I could see your mighty influence, capable of raising cities against which we are but specks, as we marched on the throne and destroyed those that would deny us our choices!”

Winni shook his head. “Ant… should never have interfered. You are a brilliant creature, beautiful in your own way, but you are too simple to understand what it is I have been saying to you.”

“I agree!” Ant said, twitching enthusiastically, “which is why I submit myself to your guidance. Tell me what to do, oh great and wise one, and I shall carry out your will.”

“You still don’t get it! Ant, I am not fit to guide you. Your world may be simpler than mine, but I don’t understand it. We are too different from each other for either to try to emulate the other. Ants should not live in cities, just as humans should not live in colonies.”

For the first time that day, Ant stopped moving. “But… I carried out this revolution in your name.”

Winni sighed. “I never asked you to. And if you think that I did, that just proves how little you understand me.” And with that Winni the Peg left, never to return to this part of the forest, knowing full well that his friend Ant and her colony would not survive. And that it was his fault.

—

The revolution was several months old now, a distant memory for the Ant. It had been rough at the start. Workers and soldiers were not used to choosing their own paths. Many workers who continued building and scavenging as though nothing had happened were destroyed by those that chose to enforce the rules. Many more starved to death during the great food shortages that followed. But this hunger had prompted a lot of ants to choose to scavenge for food, and at last their reserves were starting to accumulate.

There were those who didn’t understand the difference. Whether they gathered food because they were told to or because everyone was hungry, it didn’t seem to matter. But to the Ant, it was all the difference in the world. They were living the way the human had told them to, his wisdom and power shaping the society around them. Even now, as the Ant contemplated what new rules to come up with, he could feel the presence of the mighty Winni, guiding his thoughts and protecting her city.

The Ant was troubled, of course. Many other colonies still lived under a brutal queen, depriving the workers and soldiers of their choices. There was much work to do in order to spread Pegism to these unfortunate creatures. At times, the task seemed overwhelming. But, the Ant thought to herself, with Winni the Peg on their side, how could they lose?