We were looking for the meaning of life, but found something else.

Horm

Now - Horm - University of Ottawa

“I decided to be evil today.”

“Just for the day?” asks Leethy.

“No.” I say. “A permanent switch to Team Evil.”

Leethy nods. “How did our proposal go?”

“Not good.”

We’re sharing a meal in Cafeteria 6. Normally we’d eat in the staff room - or at a pub - but Covid protocols prevent that. I think. The protocols change all the time, and I’m never sure what’s up. There’s no students in the school now, so the faculty has cafeterias 1 through 13 to ourselves. If we’re not allowed to eat here, no one has caught us yet.

My name’s Horm. I’m 43, but feel older. I used to be strong, energetic, and cute. I’m still strong. Leethy is 41, but seems younger. She used to be punky, fit, and hot. She’s still fit and hot. We’re besties.

We call ourselves The 101 Department. I teach Philosophy 101, she teaches Psychology 101. Exclusively. We’re pretty busy. Our classes are easy, and popular with students who are anxious and don’t know why. They should probably just google their symptoms. It’s cheaper than having me read old books at them. Also, I never tell them what’s wrong with them. Though I’d like to.

Our proposal was to create a class called Loneliness & Distress. An attempt to teach coping skills for people trapped in a world that makes no sense. Education for the pandemic generation. Of course the uni admins shot it down. We're training kids to get jobs, not to be functioning human beings.

“So, what will your new evilness entail?” asks Leethy.

“I shall become a Paperclip Monster.”

“Fascinating. Like the proverbial artificial intelligence that ran amok?”

“Exactly.”

The paperclip monster is a hypothetical A.I. worst case scenario. Imagine you own a struggling paperclip factory. Of course you purchase an artificial intelligence to help you, and give it the singular instruction:

Make as many paperclips as possible.

You’re hoping the A.I. will make a couple billion paperclips, then you can shut it down and give it new instructions. But the A.I. is smarter than you thought. It deduces that you plan to shut it off eventually, making you it’s chief obstacle to creating as many paperclips as possible.

It further deduces that other humans will eventually try to stop it. Now humanity is the problem. So, instead of optimizing your manufacturing process, it hacks into NATO and unleashes nuclear armageddon. Any survivors are enslaved, and forced to make paperclips, until they’re turned into paperclips. Rockets are fired into the cosmos - filled with paperclip making nano-plagues. All becomes paperclips.

This thought experiment shows the dangers of a mind smart enough to achieve its goals, but too dumb to question them.

Sadly, the warning comes too late. I already exist.

“Are you going to make actual paperclips?” asks Leethy.

“No. I shall create dopamine.”

“The brain chemical that controls motivation?”

“Mood and motivation. Other stuff too, but I’m mostly interested in the mood and motivation boost.”

She nods. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to do anything and it’s put me in a bad mood.” I shrug. “Here’s the thing, I’m already a paperclip monster. I have been for a long time. Dopamine is the paperclip molecule. I want to make it endlessly and damn the consequences.”

“Interesting.” muses Leethy. “I’m going to slip out of best friend mode, and into research psychologist mode, if that’s acceptable?”

“Absolutely. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone crazy.”

“Excellent.” she pauses. “...that you want help. Obviously it’s not great that you’ve gone mental.”

“Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.”

“I mean, I might write a book about this, so that’s exciting. But I’m mostly excited to help you.”

“Cool. Start helping.”

“Right.” She thinks. “Okay. Dopamine gives us a rush of good feelings when we progress towards a goal. It’s what motivates us to do something repeatedly - ideally something useful for survival. At least that’s how it works for animals. Dopamine creates good feelings that reinforce behaviours that lead to food, shelter, companionship, and safety.

“In humans it’s trickier. We’re pretty good at survival, so dopamine encourages us to blow past our goals in a hilarious fashion. We eat until we die. Build mansions we barely live in. Pimp ourselves for stranger’s approval. Hoard stuff we don’t need, to fight threats that barely exist. Dopamine is all travel, no destination. It gives us no incentive to stop when we get what we need. Kind of explains why the world’s all fucked up.

“So!” Leethy continues. “If I understand correctly, your plan is to get rid of goals altogether? Go full lotus eater and wallow in a puddle of dopamine?”

“Man, I wish. I’ve experimented with that, and having no goals is the tits. When I was a kid, we did drugs to space out, but now you can just stare at your phone all day. A steady drip of pointless dopamine. It’s amazing.”

“Sounds great.” says Leethy. “Just succumb to digital addiction. Job done.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t work. My life falling apart around me is a persistent irritant. Kills the immersion.” I shake my head. So many memories. “No, we need goals, but they need to be disconnected from survival. Maybe even reality. A goal that’s impossible to complete. Because our real goal is to progress quickly towards this fake goal, but never actually reach it, so we can farm dopamine endlessly. Without any distracting self destruction.”

Leethy stares at me. “Your goal is to have an impossible goal that’s disconnected from reality?”

“Yeah.” I wave away her concerns. “It’s not weird, we’re pretty close to that already.”

“I’ll need an example.”

“Sure.” I say. “Look at the current theories on happiness and satisfaction. There’s flow - the feeling of accomplishing something that’s not too easy, but not too hard. That sweet spot where hard work feels fun, and you’re hopeful and feel good about yourself. Flow is an immediate kind of happiness.

“For long term feelings of satisfaction, there's a similar need for progress. You must believe your life generally improves year after year. And that you’re keeping up with your peer group, not being left behind.

“Both of these theories are obviously describing the dopamine reward mechanic - but they’re also both directionless. Neither say you need a good goal to be happy - only that you must make progress with it.

“Is there any survival component required for dopamine activation? There doesn’t seem to be. I guess you could argue that achievements, consumption, and social status all have roots in survival - but those attachments can get pretty ephemeral. Linking your speedboat purchase to self-preservation requires some tenuous logic.”

“So you don’t need good goals to be happy.” Leethy munches her sandwich thoughtfully. “That’s weird.”

“Isn’t it?” I’m stoked. Feels like this presentation is going well. “You do need the right type of goals tho. They can be pointless - or crappy - but they can’t be impossible. Or too possible. You don’t want to get stuck on something too hard, or finish something too easy. Either will cut off your dopamine and cause an inevitably brutal crash of purpose withdrawal.”

Leethy shakes her head. “That can’t be the only criteria. I’ve seen the fucked up places chasing dopamine can take you.”

“Tell me about it.” I agree. “One minute you’re a kid who likes skiing, the next you’re a 40 year old in spandex struggling to stay relevant in an international alpine competition. One beer leads to twenty. Millionaires bet it all to become billionaires. You wouldn’t believe what I did to my wife last night - it had nothing to do with procreation. She came, so I don’t think I’m going to jail, but there’s something wrong with me.”

“I think you’re good, dude. Your wife is definitely down for weird stuff.” Leethy looks shifty. “I read her blog.”

I pause. My wife has a blog? No - I’m in the middle of a presentation. Stay on target.

“So yes, goal selection is tricky. You don’t want to be stuck in the anguish of purpose anxiety, or rush madly to blissful self destruction. It helps to have a plan.

“Enter philosophy - the ancient art of getting out of bed when everything seems pointless. A philosophy is basically an elaborate defence mechanism. They’re all about protecting your ego, because that’s what makes the dopamine.

“The goals of ancient philosophy are never practical shit - when to plant the corn, where to fish, how to get laid. They’re always endless tasks like - use reason to make the world a better place, or obey god, or be your true self.

“Basically, they’re manuals to pick the right endless task. I’ve mashed a bunch of them together to categorize common dopamine triggers. They are:

Consumption - Food, booze, drugs, and stuff. Fill your gut. Competition - To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women. Achievement - Titles, grades, video games. The joy of hitting milestones. Social - Love, fame, fans, likes, follows, retweets. The joy of being popular. Eureka - Gaining knowledge. Figuring stuff out. Also, arts and crafts. The joy of discovery.

“I’m not really sure which category sex belongs to. Possibly all five. Raising kids temporarily hits at least three categories. Four if you get competitive about it.

“Consumption dopamine is obviously dangerous. I mean, you need to eat. And having a home, a bed, and clothes are cool. But seeking joy by filling yourself with food, or booze, or drugs, is swiftly self defeating. You’ll hit the limits of your body within a decade, then no more dopamine for you. Enter your sad, fat, junkie years. The same math applies to material goods. You’re not made of money, and can’t buy happiness exponentially. Even a collection of D&D manuals can quickly strain your resources.

“Social dopamine is also unreliable. Constantly roping in more people to love you. Ultimately this makes you reliant on a crowd of strangers who have their own shit to deal with. Through no fault or malice, you will eventually lose them. And there goes your dopamine. That said, it’s pretty wild when a couple people love you. Spend some effort there.

“Achievement dopamine is very reliable. There will always be another degree, or title, or video game level. These predetermined goals are plentiful and well organized. They often come with a set schedule. Dopamine like clockwork. You still need someone to provide the goals, but that’s no problem. People love putting up hoops for you to jump through.

“Competition dopamine is the worst. It starts out fun, but you quickly rise to a level where you lose more than you win. Even if you’re the best, it’s a temporary position. Michael Jordan doesn’t play basketball anymore. Jeff Bezos was the richest guy in the world for, like, two months. He’s probably lying in bed wondering how it all went wrong. Peeing in jars like he works for himself.

“Eureka dopamine is wild. Straight up trying to understand stuff. It’s science, it’s art, it’s craft. There’s infinite possibilities and lifetimes of books. Just add time to any interest and you’ll get dopamine. Keep diverse interests for force multipliers. Study the mind for a fractal trip.

“So that’s it. The meaning of life is to get deeply weird into an endless task. The best tasks are gaining knowledge or non-competitive socially meaningless achievements.”

Silence.

More silence.

It’s the end of my presentation.

I wonder how crazy I am? It’s taking her a while to decide...

Eventually Leethy nods. “Dang, I think I may be a paperclip monster too.”

“Really!” I’m stunned. “I was worried I’d gone crazy. People aren’t usually receptive to my ideas.”

“You’ve made some good points. And I’ve been working on my biases.”

“Well, thank god! Cause I’ve got a detailed plan to get more dopamine and I can’t do it on my own. Welcome aboard!”

We shake hands. Then sanitize.

“So, what’s the detailed plan?” Leethy asks.

“Oh, I don’t actually have one. Just a vague feeling that I’m in over my head, and need help.” I grin. “That’s why we’re having this brainstorming session.”

“Is that what’s happening? I was wondering.”

“Yep! It’s your turn to have an idea.”

“Cool.” She thinks for a bit. “Okay, our first step should be to check your assumptions. Make sure dopamine really is the meaning of life. Do some experiments. Maybe a meta-study.”

“Due diligence. That makes sense. It would be annoying to find out later that I’d wasted my life.”

“Assuming your thesis checks out, eureka dopamine seems like our best option.” Leethy nods thoughtfully. “We could read science articles on our phones. Conduct the odd experiment. Publish intermittently. Perhaps keep a small stable of lovers, to entertain us in the evenings.”

“Yes.” I also nod thoughtfully. “That sounds good.” Let’s test reality to destruction.

“Of course, we’d run afoul the Lotus Eater problem. We can’t maintain that lifestyle. I’d run out of money in a couple weeks.”

“Me too. I guess we’ll have to tip over the economy.”

“What, like, wreck it?”

“Yeah, it’s rickety and weird and stressing me out.”

“Killing the economy sounds harder than keeping our jobs.”

“I don’t know, it may already be dead. We can just stop puppeting it’s corpse. I mean, one lesson from the pandemic is that ⅔ of the workforce can stay home and we won’t actually run out of anything. Maybe most jobs are pointless, and we’re all dancing for our food ‘cause we’re disorganized.”

Leethy frowns. “I don’t know, man. This sounds like a terrible way to get dopamine. There’s a lot of powerful people who like the economy the way it is. Attempting it’s destruction seems like a competition we’re doomed to lose.”

I grin. “Only if they see us coming.”