The Trolley Problem

There is a small coffee shop, on the edge of a rather large town. The shop was rather unexceptional, save for its half price mid-week madness special. It was the only time the, rather pricey, shop was ever truly busy. Today was not the middle of the week. As a consequence the expensive shop now had a few loyal patrons, along with the occasional passer bye. They stayed for shelter as they drank their coffee on this especially cold morning. One of these pedestrians was a smartly dressed business man, who looked down his nose at the quaint shop. But he was unwilling to lose the feeling in his fingers while he enjoyed one of his few remaining vices. Philip smiled at the pretty barista as he ordered his large latte, before remembering his most recent health kick and altered it to a skinny decaf. The barista let out an exasperated sigh as she threw out the half-finished drink, starting from the beginning with the slightly more convoluted order.

The businessman attempted to make polite conversation with the barista, but she wasn’t having any of it. She finished the new drink with a little flourish and, through gritted teeth, asked if there was anything else she could do. Giving up on attempts at civility, Philip simply shook his head and made his way over to one of the window seats. It was not that he particularly wanted to sit and stare out the window, it was simply because the seats chairs were far more padded. Sure enough, there was not much of a view. Just a slightly sheltered bus stop, and its occupants, behind that a row of beaten down shops over the road. On the edge of town they likely lived each month on the edge of bankruptcy.

As Philip sipped his coffee, he wondered about all the different ways he could reinvigorate the area, if he had enough capital and work ethic. One particular shop presented an intriguing avenue, it was at least worth a second visit. Philip instinctively fished around in his right pocket, trying to pull out his phone and make a note of the idea. That was when he realized the item was not in its customary spot.

“I believe this might be yours?” Philip started as a small quiet voice asked the question right behind his shoulder. Turning, he found himself greeted by a man who appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties. He had a flat hair line that did not properly match his greying hair. In his long, bony fingered, hand he held Philip’s state of the art new phone.

“Yes. Yes it is. Thank you!” Philip said with a bit too much excitement. The phone was not an essential part of his life, but the effort it would take to replace was far too much for him at the moment.

“It’s fine. Though if you don’t mind this good Samaritan asking one small favour, do you mind if I join you?” The stranger asked already moving around the table to the opposite seat. Philip glanced around the café. It must have had about fifteen tables, and only nine other patrons. Plenty of free seats. As if sensing the business man’s uncertainness the stranger stated. “I used to come here every week with my wife, after her passing I find myself unable to shake the ritual.”

“Oh you should have said, I’ll give you the table.” Philip acknowledged he was haughty, stubborn, and far too smart for his own good some times. But he considered himself a good person. At least a good enough person to give a widowed husband the seat he had shared with his dead wife.

“Nonsense, your coffee is already half finished and I wouldn’t mind the company.” The stranger said as he slid into the opposite seat and drew in his long dark trench coat around his tall, wiry, frame.

“I’m Philip Hammond.” The businessman said as he extended his hand. The stranger took the outstretched hand but offered no name in response. Simply responding.

“A pleasure to meet you Philip.” The stranger’s voice remained soft, almost calming, and yet Philip felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The effect did lessen as he released the strangers grip, but he still felt a nervous ball in his gut.

“And your name sir?” Philip said as he moved his hands under the table and rubbed them, subconsciously trying to wash his hand clean.

“The name of a man with no consequence.” The stranger said as he took the first of many sips from his coffee. The businessman mirrored the action unsure whether or not he liked the soft spoken, even gentle, man.

“That doesn’t seem to be very fair to yourself.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to know my name. It is a rather boring old name. One that you will have heard many times before. And it will leave your mind just as suddenly as it entered.” The stranger said as he took another sip from his drink. Placing the cup down the stranger leaned on the table, interlocking his fingers in front of his face. “But I do think there is something that I can give you. Something that I know will stay with you for the rest of your life.”

“Well to that I’m all ears.” Philip said curiously even as he slid one leg out from under the table should he need to make an escape from the possibly crazy pensioner.

“You seem like an educated man, at least educated enough to help me. You see I’ve been struggling with a problem recently. A theological problem you might say, and I’m sure you could help me find the answer.”

“I don’t mind the distraction.”

“Well I shall start out simple. Have you heard of the trolley problem.” The stranger said, his piercing grey eyes locked onto the business man’s.

“I can’t say I have.”

“It’s a rather old debate. A trolley, or for our modern day example a train, is speeding down the tracks, unable to stop. On the tracks there are five workers. They are completely unaware of their impending death. They will be unable to do anything to save themselves.” The stranger said as he outlined the basics of the problem.

“A tragedy I guess.”

“Ah but here’s the rub. You are the train driver. You are able to change it onto a different set of tracks. One’s that will only result in one death.”

“Now that is interesting.” Philip said as he paused to mull over his answer. Both outcomes were undesirable. Not to mention there was an element of innocence to the single casualty, given how the train wasn’t even supposed to be on the other line. Then again the five workers were equally innocent, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Weighing up his options Philip finally decided on an answer. “It seems to me that, baring any other knowledge, this is a simple case of math. The one has to die, so the five could live.”

“You would commit murder to save five innocents?” The stranger did not ask the question in shock or disbelief. Rather it seemed he wanted his companion to fully consider all the different outcomes.

“Where did murder come from?” Philip asked rather incredulously.

“Maybe murder is a bit strong. Manslaughter is a better word, at least in the eyes of the law. The five dying is a tragedy, but the natural outcome. On the other hand the single death is one you would cause. In that sense you killed that person.” Philip couldn’t help but notice how emotionless the stranger’s voice was. Sure this was just a theoretical discussion, but the way he talked about death was akin to how one would comment on the weather. Deciding that he would not emulate the old man, Philip paused again to really consider his choice. The idea of causing the death had not entered his mind, but eventually the cold hard math won out.

“It’s still got to be the one.”

“So it’s utilitarianism then. A fair enough decision.” The stranger said, a small predatory smile flickering across his face for a moment. “But it does put me in a difficult spot. There’s a final part that makes my theological question rather unique. What if I told you that you were not the train conductor. What if I told you, you are the man on the other line? Tell me does utilitarianism still win out then?”

The same unsettling feeling Philip had felt when he had shaken the stranger’s hand returned tenfold. It was almost as if every instinct within him called out for him to run. Run as far away as quickly as possible, from this man. Deciding to listen to them, the business man quickly gathered up his few things and stood saying.

“I think I should take my leave. It was an experience meeting you and I wish you the best of luck with your problem.”

“The young lady is about to drop her tray.” The stranger’s words cut through the man’s platitudes. Philip opened his mouth to respond, only to be stopped by the crash of plates behind him. The barista had dropped the tray of clean pots she had been carrying. Momentarily stunned Philip recovered enough to thank the stranger only to be interrupted a second time.

“She’s about to cut her hand on the ceramic.” Sure enough, the barista let out a sharp gasp of pain as she quickly withdrew her now bleeding hand. Philip looked at the stranger dumfounded even as the older man said.

“Car horn.” The business man’s head snapped to the window, just in time to see a driver pull out of a side road. It elicited a loud honk, and many expletives, from the driver of a van that had been speeding down the main road.

“I could do this all day but it does seem rather pointless.” The stranger said with a sigh, as if the act of perfect foresight bored him.

“How?” Philip croaked simply baffled by the display.

“That is of no concern of yours Philip, but I do think you should sit down.” At the old man’s words the business man collapsed back into his seat, even as the stranger continued. “Now then, what matters to me is your answer to my question. Would you die to save the lives of five people?”

“This isn’t theoretical is it?” Philip asked as his numbness at the previous display receded and, with its recession, his sense of terror returned to him.

“No I’m afraid it is not.”

“What happens?” Philip croaked out the question through his fear. He wasn’t even truly sure why he was scared. The old man may not have seemed sickly, but he was frail. While his long appendages seemed quite dexterous, they were still mostly bone and seemed easy to break. And yet whoever, whatever, the man was; he was the scariest thing the business man had ever met.

“Shortly a bus driver is going to fall asleep at the wheel. A product of working day and night to support his pregnant wife and two other children. Luckily he is returning to the bus depot and has no passengers. He will suffer serious injuries but ultimately he will recover, physically.”

“Where’s the but?”

“The but, as you put it, is that though the driver will recover he will not be able to stop what’s coming. The out of control bus will weave off the road and into that bus stop, tragically killing everyone waiting there.” At the stranger’s words Philip focused more closely on the nearby bus stop, or more specifically, its occupants.

About half of the station was taken up by a young man who wore a dark jumper with its hood up, obscuring their face. Throw in the trainers and the tracksuit trousers and the chav look was complete. Philip could see why the rest of the group gave the person a wide berth. Next along was an old man who wore a suit that clung loosely to him, it made the already frail pensioner look rather sickly. The next two were a young couple in their mid-twenties. They seemed to have never encountered the idea of over the top. Their displays of affection went past the point of sweet and into the realm of nauseating. Finally there was a waspish looking woman, who looked down her nose at the rest of the group. It reminded Philip of how he must have looked when he first entered the café.

“How does killing me stop their deaths?” The business man asked trying, and failing, to drink the rest of his coffee with trembling hands.

“I have a gun in my pocket. Should you decide that you want to stick with your answer, I shall simply shoot you. The act would cause the group to flee the bus stop in terror.” The stranger said as he ran his skeletal index finger around the contents of his own drink. Philip wanted to shout, he wanted to scream at the man for his calm persona. How could he be so composed when talking about death? More importantly, his death. But something in the business man knew that was not the way to play this. There had to be an angle, a way he could save these people and himself. The only way to work it out was to keep the stranger calm. That and use his mysterious powers of foresight.

“How long do I have?” Philip asked as calmly as he could, subtly trying to gather useful information.

“Not long now.” The stranger responded in his same slow, quiet, voice that seemed contradictory to his words.

“Give me a time god damn it!” Philip snapped at his companion temporarily forgetting his decision to remain calm. It was a fleeting instant but when the stranger responded his tone had a dark edge to it.

“No, I don’t think I will. I give you a time limit and you shall simply waste that time and let the decision be made for you. You would spend the rest of your days believing that you would have saved them eventually. I won’t let that happen. What I need from you is a simple yes or no. So it’s time for you to decide, are you a good person?”

“This isn’t a matter of being good or not. You’re asking me to become a martyr for just five lives.” Philip’s attempts to remain calm was completely forgotten but luckily he managed to keep his volume down so as to not attract the attention of the café’s other patrons.

“So you believe your one life is worth more than their five?” Again the question was direct and cut to the quick. It left Philip speechless, mostly because his first and immediate answer was yes. Of course his life was more important. He was clearly more accomplished then the bus stops patrons. And more than that he had a family that needed him, that loved him.

“I have a wife and a daughter, I can’t just leave them.”

“All of that group have families who would miss them. Charles, the boy you believe to be a chav, has a sister with a fatal illness. She relies on him for the strength to continue fighting for life. Angela, the waspish woman on the edge of the group, is a single mother of twins. She’s currently only taking the bus because she lent her car to a friend, so they could attend a job interview. Everyone has people who need them, such is the way of this world.”

“Is there no other way to do this?” Philip hissed his mind running through every single possibility, every conceivable way he could get out of this.

“No.”

“Couldn’t you shoot me in the leg?” The business man asked, going with the most feasible idea he had come up with.

“I’m afraid that the reaction would not be to clear the bus stop. All I would end up doing is causing you great pain. That and pushing their deaths onto multiple drivers as the group blindly run out into traffic.” The stranger said with an almost bored tone, it did seem like he did not care about what Philip had to say. Then again maybe with his seeming ability to see the future maybe he had already seen this.

“So you don’t shoot me. Couldn’t you go and tell them what’s about to happen.” The business man countered, maybe if they went to the people in the bus stop, showed them the stranger’s abilities. They might still be able to make it through this.

“Would you believe me? If I ran up to you, while you were waiting at a bus stop, shouting you need to run away because I foresaw your death?”

“So you don’t tell them the truth, lie to them. Or better yet scare them away with that gun of yours.” The business said momentarily thinking he might have truly found a way out of this mess.

“Philip, there are millions of things I could do. Thousands of them would work. But this is all that I am allowed to do.” The stranger responded tiredly.

“Allowed by who?”

“That is a question for another time.”

“Another time? Will I meet you again?” Phillip asked, for a moment more terrified of meeting the frail man again than his current predicament.

“If you choose to live then yes, I suppose we will. I do tend to meet everyone in the end.” The stranger said cryptically though a little gleam in his eye showed that he was once again enjoying the conversation. The businessman went to continue his thread, but knew that it was pointless. Whatever power the stranger had to change the situation he wouldn’t do it. There was no way out.

Philip’s eyes drifted again to the pedestrians waiting in the bus stop. The couple cuddling up together. Charles flicking through his phone unwilling to meet anyone’s, gaze. The old man with his crinkled newspaper. Angela sniffing as she tried her best not to appear chilled in the morning air. All of them were completely oblivious to what was coming. One moment they were there, the next they would be gone. Was that a kindness or curse? His eyes scanned over the five, looking for any imperfection that would give him an excuse to live in their place. But as he fruitlessly searched a question popped into his mind. One Philip found himself compelled to ask.

“How many of them would do it for me?”

“I beg your pardon?” The stranger asked and though his mask did not slip it did seem that the question had caught him by surprise.

“If the roles were reversed. How many of them would die to save me and the others?”

“Why do you care Philip? Either way you won’t feel better.”

“Just tell me all the same.” Philip demanded. The stranger sighed closing his eyes for a moment as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“One.”

“One!?” Philip asked incredulously, ignoring the fact that he was still undecided.

“Yes just one. The other four would all eventually choose to let the rest of the group die.”

“So I’m supposed to sacrifice myself for a group of people who wouldn’t do the same for me?” It was all a bit preposterous to Philip, and for a moment, he almost gave his answer. Completely ignoring the fact one of the group was willing to die for him and the others.

“I did tell you that the answer would not help you.” The stranger said in a tone that sounded like a teacher admonishing a foolish student.

“Yes I forgot you know everything. Well tell me, if you know everything, why don’t you tell me what I choose?” The businessman spat, his anger at the answer being directed towards the stranger who had brought him so much grief.

“Oh, I don’t know everything Philip. There is always space for free will to interfere in the grand design. But, one way or another, I tend to find things involving me are inevitable.” Too strained to feel confused by the statement, the younger man turned his attention back to the bus stop. All that ran through his mind was one thought.

“Please move. Please!”

If they moved out the way, then all would be fine. Just a few steps was all it would take. Just move a little bit and they would all make it through this. But the pedestrians were firmly entrenched, rather darkly set on staying still until the bus came for them. There was no way out of this. Philip knew he had to make a decision. And that new thought caused a pit to settle in the man’s stomach because there was no feasible way of rationalizing this. There was no way his life was worth more than five.

“Philip time is running out, I need an answer.” The stranger said as he took another sip of his coffee. The businessman turned his pleading gaze towards the stranger but he was just met with a stoic face, the same the stranger had held the entire conversation. Finally defeated, Philip’s gaze dropped towards the floor as he said his answer.

“Please.” He hated himself as he said the word but he was too weak to say anything else. “Please I want to live.”

“Just for clarity, you are asking to live while those five out there die?” The stranger didn’t need anything clarifying and Philip knew it. He was rubbing it in. Enjoying that Philip knew it was the cowardly decision.

“Yes.”

“Don’t feel too bad Philip, I’ve offered this choice more times than I can count, I can honestly say no one has ever chosen my option.” The stranger said as he drained the last mouthful of his coffee. With that he stood up, pulling his black trench coat around himself, and made to get out of the chair.

“Which one was it?” Philip asked, though he still couldn’t look up. He knew he wouldn’t have to clarify, he was asking which one of the five would have chosen to die.

“Charles, the chav.” The business man nearly laughed at it. The one he had judged the most had more moral fiber than the rest of them. Hell he might have laughed, had he not just sentenced the boy and the other four to death.

“Do me one, small, favor Philip. You chose to let them die. The least you can do is watch their final moments.” With that the stranger turned and left the café, just as the high pitched squeal of tires filled the air.