Best laid plans
“Lawyers are a product of inefficiency”, says Tommy. “The only reason we need lawyers is because the judges are human. If we had robotic judges, we could also have robotic lawyers, eliminating high legal fees and inefficient dispute resolution.”
“But robots can’t make moral judgments,” says M. “And respond to all the nuances of human interaction”, adds G.
“Ah, but I’m ahead of you on this one,” Tommy says. “Eliminate human litigants – replace all people with robots… then, err… ”
It’s easy to think that we can plan our lives and have every step operate in interlocking exactitude – like clockwork, with a house and 2.3 kids popping out of the little panel right on cue. It’s easy to forget that lives are built on people, and humans are not gears in a cuckoo clock. People have whims; people change – and change the world around them.
I’ve had a nagging feeling all year that my world is not right. Perhaps it’s because of the dizzying drop back to reality after a year of getting pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted last year. I realise now, though, that life is not rational. People are not rational. I’m not rational. Trying to plan my life as if it was a logical proof was bound to be futile. However elegant a plan is – however rationally one tries to build it – ultimately it is built on a foundation of assumptions about people. When people change – and the world changes with them – it’s futile to lament this or that step in the plan.
The saddest part is when the worlds of two people diverge. For however long, you share a world. But out of the blue, your worlds split and hurtle down different paths – like the trouser legs of time. Suddenly, something you’ve shared – that you thought would always be there – is there no longer.
You have to laugh, because otherwise you’ll cry.
Bile and polemic.
One should cry and then laugh. Get the horribleness out of the way first, and look forward to the morrow.