Inspired by Terry Bisson’s “They’re Made Out of Meat” (1991), Erik Hoel’s “They Die Every Day” (2025), and Awais Aftab’s “Their Desire is the Desire of the Other” (2026).
“It’s been a rough one.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I mean, to believe anyone could let that happen.”
“Wars of aggression, climate destruction, mass starvation, genocide.”
“Forced displacement, child labor, torture programs.”
“These files are too damning. I’m sorry. It’s just not fit for human habitation, at least if we got everything on humanity pretty much right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s a pattern, but the pattern only repeats, it does not pervade. It is not universal.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Not really.”
“But you think goodness prevails?”
“I think goodness exists, and that is enough.”
“I’m gonna need more than that.”
“Look at it this way: the suffering on their planet is confined, constrained, controlled – even if only for a moment, even if by every standard insignificant – when a single member of the species recognizes it and tries to do something about it. And that always happens.”
“Without exception?”
“Without exception.”
“But what about the suffering nobody talks about?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what about the suffering nobody talks about? The hidden, outsourced, institutionalized stuff. You know – the banal tragedies.”
“Well, most people don’t talk about such things, but some people do. Actually, lots of people do. You just have to look in the right places.”
“Okay, that’s my problem. You’re trying to let dissidents and opposition movements do all the work for you here.”
“Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect. I’m just trying to say it’s worth saving.”
“Because some goodness exists.”
“Yes.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Convince me.”
“Look at it this way: even in the wealthiest areas – places where people own so much stuff it takes an entire crew to transport them to a new home, where they are forced to give away some of their belongings each year due to limited space – some own nothing more than what they can carry in a sack. They live on the footpaths others use to buy stuff and everyone just ignores them.”
“...”
“And it gets worse. Their suffering is visible, right? I mean it isn’t hidden or outsourced or institutionalized. It’s right there in front of people’s faces.”
“Is it unimaginable?”
“Do I even have to answer that?”
“Okay, but surely someone recognizes it. Surely something is being done about it.”
“Of course. Plenty of people recognize it, and plenty has been done about it – there are established, proven, cost-effective solutions to this problem. Most people who work in this area generally agree on these solutions.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“There aren’t enough resources.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who have the power to distribute the necessary resources in a sustainable way don’t actually care to do so.”
“Hmm.”
“So it’s like I said. The fact that some goodness exists is not enough, literally. I’m not trying to be rhetorical.”
“Okay we have to wrap it up for today, but hear me out.”
“What?”
“These people – the ones who aid those living on footpaths – they carry on with their work. Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you were confronted with patterns of avoidable human suffering, be they repetitive or pervasive or universal, how could you show up to work every day, knowing your work would never be enough?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’d have to forget on some level that the patterns were actually there.”
“But they are there. And persuading others to care about those patterns is a necessary condition for reducing the suffering they constitute. Plus, it’s not just the people living on footpaths. What about the hidden, outsourced, institutionalized stuff? What about the mass violence? How could anyone do this kind of work and keep going?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
“???”
“The work continues, despite all the suffering.”
“But this is not ‘goodness.’ This is a strained, irrational, desperate brand of hope that merely hums in the background as a minor subset of their population chooses to take certain unspeakable things seriously.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Do you think we should add that to the Humanity file?”
“Do you think it’s enough?”