A/N, this is what you get when you're writing in between chapters of econ homework. That, and I can see House being utterly fascinated with John Nash.
He had considered being an econ major once. Taken a class in it, and had fallen for the subject, hard. But it wasn't meant for him. He knew it wasn't, no matter how much he had loved it. It was something that made him understand the copies of The Economist sent to his front door. Not that he ever really read the magazine, but it looked impressive mixed in with the medical journals. Even though he never got any visitors, it was a nice feeling that he had a...smart collection.
He had hung around the crew, off to the side, when they'd invaded Princeton to film their damn movie. He hated it, he whined, because they got in the way of his normal routine, having to deal with roads closed. And he'd enjoyed reading about Russel Crowe in the gossip rags. But most of all, he was fascinated by it, wanted to be a part of it, because John Nash had infected his life when he was a starry-eyed eighteen year old, taking micro to fill out a part of his general education.
It was thanks to John Nash that he hated the current situation that he was in now. John Nash had taught him to think everything through logically. He had a chance to meet the man once, and it had been...he couldn't think of a good word to describe it, as it had been a random encounter. A stroll down Nassau street, and spotting the man on the sidewalk. He hadn't quite known what to say, no one does when they're confronted with an idol they've never actually pictured meeting.
He had learned that everybody lied, and that he would pick the best choice of action based upon why he thought they were lying. It was pure game theory, make a decision based upon what the other person was going to do. Think about it logically, and make the best decision. Don't let emotion factor into the decisions, no matter how much he wanted it to. It was for everybody's good. Rat the other one out, and only get two years, instead of staying mum and getting eight. The Prisoner's Dilemma, played out on a daily basis in his life.
It applied to everything. From whether it was a good idea to bother Wilson that day-after figuring out what his likely punishments were given each course of action, to the consequences of just one more Vicodin. Play it safe, play it rational, take the logical option. But when he found himself caught up in an emotional dilemma, it was much much harder. Logic and reason were the opposites of emotion, and he purposely tried to ignore emotion, because it always led to someplace bad. Emotion was what had turned him into the emotionless man he was. Twas better not to have loved at all, than to have loved and lost.
He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. If he was using the word love, even in jest, he was getting maudlin, which was just a good sign of how badly this...thing was getting to him. Because somewhere along the way, somewhere in the past few months, he had realized that he liked Cuddy. No, like was too strong of a word. It was more akin of when he first discovered the hot girl in high school-he wanted to date her, because dating meant even more fun, and because it was something that he could show off, parade around. He never once considered the fact that maybe it would make him happy-he was too focused on what everyone else would think about him.
Which is why he was sitting at his desk, scrap of paper imitating his beloved white board. But this was not something his team could help him solve. Thousands of other scraps just like this were around the office, each one with a different decision-what he thought the best idea for the patient was, and what common sense said the best idea for the patient was. And the outcomes of each, compared. Take his treatment, versus taking the common sense treatment, and the pros and cons of each. Patient dies, patient lives, patient lives, but is hampered by the rest of their lives-there were choices to be made. And he made them based upon what he thought was best for the patient, regardless of what next of kin would say, or what the patient themselves would say, if the consequences of his actions would not end in the outcomes of "Death" or "Misery".
Little squares that helped him figure out what the consequences of every action were. Graphs that demarcated what would happen if X decision was made with Y and Z factors. It was a fascinating study. It was one of the things he enjoyed most about economics-it wasn't the dismal science, it was the science of logic and reason, and explaining why people did what they did. People did not let themselves get bogged down in the moment and make irrational decisions all the time.
He did not have morals. He had reason. He had hated the ethics class he had been forced to take, but had fallen in love with Kant. Well, his own skewed view of what he believed Kant to be. He ignored the idea of the categorical imperative, favoring instead the hypothetical, but the idea that morality is determined by reason, and not by sensual impulses was what drew him to the philosopher.
When he had once been forced into attending Sunday School, his teacher had remarked that he'd excel in seminary-not because he had any true faith, but because he was always willing to question faith, and push other people to do the same. And she had believed that the only way to understand a faith, and to embrace it was to question it until they knew everything about it. And could make a logical, and rational decision to believe. He'd found it silly, but he always admired her for not simply believing what she was told, but for coming to her decision to practice religion rationally.
He refused to make this decision one based on morality, based on emotion, or feeling. Feelings were weakness after all. He operated on his own selfish agenda, and picked what would give him, and only he, the greatest amount of happiness. He didn't care what she thought, or what anyone else thought, only insofar as other people affected his happiness. If she hated him, it made his work life miserable, if he killed a patient, it meant much more paperwork than what was required if they were kept alive.
Which was why he was sitting here, plotting all possible outcomes, and all her possible reactions, making sure to leave nothing unaccounted for. For example, bursting into her office, kissing her as hard as he could, and walking back out again could earn him a date, but at the same time, it was equally as likely to earn him a solid slap and a lifetime of clinic hours. But doing the occasional nice act was far more likely to earn him brownie points, and thus get him noticed, and hopefully get her to finally question if this was the best idea before jumping in with a resounding"yes."
Everything came down to the most logical, rational choice he could think of. Acting impulsively got one nowhere. Acting with the seeming air of impulse got one much further. It made people assume that he was merely acting out of irrationality, and gave him the upper hand in most situations. It made things easier for him, because people didn't question him, the accepted it as what he was, and ignored him. But everything he did was carefully planned and plotted, every little item on his agenda was calculated precisely.
Which led him to wonder if maybe the best course of action would be to seem impulsive. This was a new field for him. With Stacy the decision had been simple, there hadn't been thousands of mitigating factors. She was a woman, he was a man. She was a lawyer, he was a doctor, they were a power couple, there was nothing that could go wrong. Cuddy, she was a coworker-his boss-they had had a thing whatever it had been in college. There was so much more to fuck up in this situation.
There was a thing about the Nash Equilibrium. The equilibrium point was never to benefit of either party. It was the point of least harm, but also least benefit. Everyone found some benefit, but no one achieved the maximum amount of benefit as finding an unequal posistion. But like all things in economics, they eventually reached a point of balance. The question was where that point of balance lay. On his side? On hers?
He sighed as he looked over the sheet of paper, covered in graphs. Each one detailing one of his options, and all of her responses to those options, and what the affect on everyone else would be. This wasn't supposed to be a choice that was made my logic. This was something that was supposed to be emotional. But he had learned long ago that emotions got him nowhere-common logic, that was what got him places, and that was what he relied on.