Authors Notes:
Once again, crackfic. At some point in the future, I'll be compiling these shorter chapters into a single larger one. Probably all the 'assignment' chapters together.
Also, having to edit this multiple times to not have FF edit out the paragraph breaks is annoying...
ARC III
CHAPTER FOUR
Disclaimer: Not Mine
BRENT'S NOTES: Philosophy 103, Assignment 2, Reading.
Ayer, A.J Philosophical Essays, Chapter 12, Freedom and Necessity. Pge 271 to 284
On pge 276, the author writes 'let us assume . . . that I have made myself what I am. Then it is still legitimate to ask how it is that I have come to make myself one sort of person rather than another. And if it be answered that it is a matter of my strength of will, we can . . . (ask) how it is that my will has the strength that it has and not some other degree of strength. Once more, either it is an accident or it is not.'
This does not take into account degrees. Could it be true that everyone has greater or lesser amounts of 'strength of will', enough to affect who we become by greater or lesser amounts – so we are not wholly free of determinism, nor chance, nor completely a slave to either.
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Brent
The real problem wasn't the assignment, of course. Or wasn't just the assignment. It was the assignment on top of everything else. He had four hours of lectures a week, eight hours of tutors, getting to Uni and back took an hour and a half each day, he had to read more than 300 pages a week for various weekly readings, and that was before he even started looking at the weekly tasks and mini assignments.
By the time he got home, generally all he wanted to do was relax and think about absolutely nothing for a while. Gaming was perfect for that. After an especially bad day at uni - after a lecture he didn't understand, or having to read through thirty pages of Aristotle - which was completely incomprehensible to him, gaming made everything alright. Granted, it did get away from him. He'd sit down at seven pm intending to get back into his studies after an hour or two, and next thing he knew, it'd be two in the morning.
And that was the problem with it, really.
Gaming was his escape. His way to blow off steam. It worked fine when things wern't constantly stressful, but when it got to mid semester, he found the pressure building up faster than gaming could release it. His gaming would cut into studying time, he'd start slipping, causing more stress, making him game even more to avoid thinking about it.
And now...
Now that safety valve had been pinched shut.
So Brent sat down to his first tutorial with Louise with a whole mess of emotions churning inside him. Mostly annoyance and frustration, but fear also. Also... maybe a pinch of gratitude? A pinch of hope?
Because if he was forced to study, perhaps it'd break the downward spiral he always found himself in at this time of the semester. The extra time studying could bring his assignments and other studies back under control, he wouldn't feel so stressed, and he could finish the semester under his own power.
Of course, it could just be that without the release of gaming, he'd end up having a meltdown and end up rage-quitting all his units.
Hence the fear...
Brent looked up, noticed the webcam light was on, and smiled a humorless smile at his 'Mistress'.
'So, where should we start?'
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Two hours later, Brent sighed. The study session had been productive. It really had. He'd done more towards his assignment in that two hours than he had in the last three days.
But they'd still only managed to wrest half a page of notes from three articles. Two of the articles had been completely useless...
His usual approach was to use the uni library's online database to get ten or fifteen electronic articles on whatever topic his assignment was on, read through them all, taking notes on anything that might be relevant, then later, read through all the notes and seeing if they gave him any ideas towards the assignment.
His problem here was very few of the articles he'd managed to find covered the topic well.
Normally about half the articles he read through turned out to be useless. Here...
Here only about a quarter had anything to do with it at all. And even with those, most of them barely related to the topic question.
The problem was the topic question was too... basic on one level, and too specific on another. There just wasn't enough meat there for academics to tear into, and it wasn't well known enough for them to try. There was a single paper written on it, from which their lecturer had presumably got the topic question, one paper in response, and everything else was lucky to even brush against it in passing. But hopefully he'd find enough overlap to find some quotes, or be given a different angle in which to approach the question.
But... 2 hours of study, or 87 pages of dry, hard to follow, densely written text, and he had half a page of notes to show for it.
Still... it was progress. It was definitely progress. And the notes he'd taken - the small, short paragraphs of overlap he'd found... they had been quite useful.
Louise had helped too. He thought she'd slow him down. He thought he'd have to spend time explaining the different terms before she could help. But she'd been surprisingly helpful. Perhaps she barely understood the material. Heaven knows, Brent barely understood what they were saying at times, and he'd been taking the course for two months. But - regardless of that, she seemed to have a knack for understanding when it related. For sifting through the near-nonsense, and picking out key words that signified what may or may not be useful.
They actually worked well together.
He still had another four articles to get through, but it actually seemed achievable now. Two of those didn't seem like they'd have anything usable anyway, so they could just skim through those faster... they might even be able to get through the rest in one sitting.
And yes... Brent did feel good. Utterly, utterly exhausted, and even more tired knowing he had to do it again tomorrow, and again, and again, till the assignment was done...
But good.
This is the point where he'd normally game for a while, before heading to bed. Or jump on YouTube. Or Facebook. But...
Louise had made it clear. No gaming. Not till his assignment was done.
Brent sighed. he seemed to be doing an aweful lot of that lately. Too early to sleep. Needed to relax again. The park?
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Jumper and jeans and an umbrella - just in case. A bottle of beer in his hand, and his phone peeking out of his jumper pocket, it's camera allowing Louise a peek into his world. Or his neighborhood anyway.
Now the study session was finished, she was finally, finally quiet. Just murmuring the occasional comment into his ear, via the earplugs he was wearing. She sounded half asleep herself.
He absently wondered what she thought of it, as he walked down the quiet street. It was very different to the Academy. He'd seen it a thousand times, it felt like home to him. But he tried to look at it through fresh eyes...
The black bitchumen road was very different to anything Louise had. The closest they'd have would be stone or gravel roads. It would probably be slick with rain in the same way though.
He doubted they had the same street lights he had. The ones Louise had, if they had any, were probably much smaller, much more dim.
The houses on the left...
Well, compared to the academy... they just couldn't compare. But they weren't shabby either. Perhaps she thought they belonged to well off merchants? Perhaps she thought he was the son of one of them? She'd never asked...
To the right - the Australian bush. Or a somewhat tame version of it, anyway. A block of land between suburbs, never cleared, but criss-crossed with bike paths. Little more than a black silhouette of trees at night though...
And in front of him, the park. Different now, from earlier. The couples, the families, the children all gone...
The play equipment and grass slick with the drizzle that was coming down. The concrete picnic bench and BBQ fortunately under cover...
He wondered what she'd make of it.
Louise hadn't made any sort of comment for a while now. Brent suspected she was asleep.
He made his way to the bench, and sat, just watching the empty park. At peace. Was it asleep? Resting? Somehow, under the glow of the street lamps, empty of people, it seemed so much more beautiful.
He cracked a beer, and sipped, just listening to the silence. Watching the emptiness, as the world slept...
and it was good.
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(The following extract will end up at the end of Brent's walk to the park, two chapters back)
Brent's Notes: Philosophy 102, Assignment 2, Reading.
Ayer, A.J Philosophical Essays, Chapter 12, Freedom and Necessity. Pge 271 to 284
Ayer puts forth the Dilemma argument. Either our actions are controlled by chance, or by determinism. Either way, not our free will.
Pge 279 – Ayer makes the comment that being compelled to do something (tortured to give up information) does not mean we have to do it. Just means other alternatives are more unpleasant. We still go through the process of deciding whether to do it or not.
Says 'To say that I could have acted otherwise is to say, first, that I should have acted otherwise if I had so chosen (this differs with Frankfurts view) Secondly, that my action was voluntary in the sense in which the actions, say, of a kleptomaniac (Or epileptic) are not; and thirdly, that nobody compelled me to choose as I did (I would disagree with this last) . . . When they are fulfilled, I may be said to have acted freely.