Kira frowned. “I thought so too before the experiments. Now I realize it’s more of a natural outgrowth of enhanced intelligence than a side effect of the re-wiring.”
“How so?”
“The concepts are quite complicated. To be honest, when my intelligence is at normal levels, they’re beyond me. But I’ll do my best to give you the gist of it.” She gathered her thoughts and exhaled loudly. “Let me start at the very beginning. When our ancient relatives first arrived on the scene, they weren’t the king of the hill. Far from it. They barely managed to stay on the hill. Pre-humans were just one of thousands and thousands of species battling for a tiny niche on a planet teaming with life. If you were a betting man, we were a million-to-one underdog to survive, let alone climb to the top of the food chain. No armor. No speed. No physical weapons.”
“But then intelligence came along,” said Desh.
“That’s right. The polar bear could survive just fine without it. But we desperately needed it. Intelligence was the only way out for our ancestors, and they achieved it just in time.” She paused and eyed Desh meaningfully. “And intelligence in survival terms means cunning, utter ruthlessness, and utter selfishness.” She raised her eyebrows. “What you might consider sociopathic behavior in its primal form.”
Desh reflected on what he had seen of the underbelly of human behavior during his time with Delta Force. He had seen things that would make a veteran pathologist vomit. Decapitations and other unspeakable tortures—displays of cruelty that defied the imagination. Without question, violence and brutality—and bloodlust—were intrinsic to human nature. Scratch any century throughout recorded history and staggering displays of cruelty came gushing out: the slaughter of helpless innocents on a massive scale, brutal wars, enslavements, tortures, mass rapes and murders, and other atrocities far too numerous to ignore. Hitler was just one example in a seemingly endless parade. Humanity could wrap itself in the cloak of civilization and pretend this side of its nature didn’t exist, but the hostility and savagery that drove the most dangerous predator on the planet to the top of the food chain was always seething, just below the surface.
“To survive,” continued Kira, “Homo sapiens evolved intelligence, and a ruthlessness and selfishness hardwired into our genes. That’s one side of the equation.” She paused. “But a cunning and ruthless intelligence alone wasn’t enough. Along with intelligence we had to use teamwork to bring down the mastodon. And our brains were so complex they still needed to develop long after birth. Human infants were helpless for far longer than any other animal on Earth. So our selfishness had to be tempered. We had to evolve some sense of teamwork and fair play. We had to sacrifice for our children and put the clan’s survival above our own.”
Desh was totally drawn into the conversation intellectually now, temporarily forgetting to remain suspicious of Kira’s every word and action.
“So those who were only selfish,” she continued, “died out in the long run. Those who were wired to be totally ruthless, but could also cooperate and work in a pack, survived to have offspring. To this day, a delicate balance of pure selfishness in some respects and pure selflessness in others is hardwired into our genes. For the sake of discussion, let’s use extremes. Call this selfishness sociopathy. Call this selflessness altruism.”
“So you believe there is such a thing as altruism? That Abraham Lincoln got it wrong?”
Kira Miller titled her head, intrigued, and gazed at Desh approvingly, impressed that he was familiar with the apocryphal story attributed to Abraham Lincoln.
In the story, Lincoln was traveling on a train and discussing human nature with a fellow passenger. The passenger insisted that such a thing as altruism existed, whereas Lincoln maintained with great vigor that all human acts were purely selfish. During the discussion, Lincoln noticed a baby goat lying across the tracks far ahead. He immediately called for the train to stop, got out, and gently lifted the goat off the tracks. The train started up again and the passenger said, “Why Abe, you just proved my point. You just committed a totally selfless act.” To which Abe replied, “Quite the contrary. I just proved my point. The act was totally selfish.” The passenger was confused. “How so?” he asked. To which Lincoln replied, “If I would have done nothing to save that poor animal, I would have felt just awful.”
Kira’s eyes sparkled as she considered her response. “Insightful question,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I actually think Lincoln was right. But for the sake of this discussion, this is more semantics than anything. Altruistic behavior exists and is hardwired into our genes. Whether it is merely another facet of selfishness isn’t germane to my point.”
Desh raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”
“Which is that this delicate balance between the competing poles of sociopathy and altruism can be shifted in one direction or another very readily. Granted, some people are born with a strong genetic predisposition one way or the other, but most of us are balanced on a razor’s edge. An average man who is the recipient of acts of caring and kindness will often perform charitable acts in return. This same man, given a slight push the other way, will pursue his self-interests even at the expense of others—even at the suffering of his own friends and family. In order to ensure that civilization can exist, that the scales are slightly tipped toward altruism, human intelligence had to invent religion.”
Desh frowned. “Invent religion?”
“That’s right. There have been thousands of different religions through time. And the followers of each of these religions believe that their founders received the divine answer, and that the religious mythology of all other religions is delusional. Almost everyone agrees that all the other religions were invented by man, just not the particular one into which they were born.”
Desh decided not to argue the point. “Go on,” he said.
“Most religions subscribe to the belief that there is something bigger than us out there,” continued Kira. “That there is some purpose to human suffering. That there is a form of continued existence after death. All of this helps to bolster the altruistic side of the human equation. Why not be totally selfish?—especially now that we don’t really need clans to survive: we can take down the mastodon alone. The answer: because there will be a reward or punishment in the next life.” She paused and shook her head. “But what if you knew with absolute certainty that when you died, that was it? There was no afterlife of any kind. Why not be totally selfish? With no God, what is the point to anything? There is no right and wrong: there is only doing what will make you happy. You have a short time to be alive—why not maximize the experience? To hell with anyone else.”
Desh looked thoughtful. “Because even if you believed there was no afterlife, altruism is still wired in. That was Lincoln’s point: altruism provides its own reward. Being good makes people feel good.”
“Excellent,” she said. “This is true. So a certainty that there is no afterlife doesn’t necessarily imply that pure sociopathy reigns. It isn’t perfectly straightforward. But it’s definitely a step down that path.” She paused. “And our society does have laws. So even if you reasoned that nothing really mattered, that good and evil were relative, and were determined to be completely selfish, you would have to perform a risk-reward analysis. Why not steal that luxury car that you love? One reason is that if you get caught, you’ll go to jail. There are risks that your selfish act would lead to a worse existence rather than a better one.”