How to Determine What is Real and What is Not

The shrink's couch was comfortable enough but I wasn't happy with the way I'd been brought here.

I had been at the office exchanging words with my supervisor and I'd been foolish enough to state that I didn't care what his opinions were; he was only a fake anyhow. In a fit of pique, he reported me to the manager and I soon learned that I needed to see a head doctor in order to keep my job.

The psychiatrist was a nice lady, in her fifties perhaps, with a kind face. She was slim, her hair a little gray. I was alone in life, a little older than she but I could see a good future with her in my life. That is, if she wasn't a fake like everyone else.

"What brings you here, Mr. Morrison," she asked. "I made the mistake of telling my boss what I think about the Universe, Ms. Cavenaugh," I replied.

"Sounds interesting, tell me about it," she said..

"I have the idea that I may be the only real person in the Universe," I began. "Some super high intelligence may have created everything that looks real in order to do research on how humans react to real life. They may be studying me so that they can observe how I would react to various situations. In other words, this is a sort of testing life without having one actually live it, so to speak."

She seemed dubious. "Have you thought of all the stuff that would need to be created in order to fool you, Mr. Morrison, stars, sun, moon, oceans, trains, cars, people and so on?"

"Yes, but only enough to make everything seem real. If I took a trip on a jet, the jet would have to be real but the view out the window could be artwork from a studio. If I went to buy something at a grocery, the cans and boxes would appear real but would be empty. All the people would, of course, be fakes."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble just to fool one person," she responded gently.

"True but it might be easy for the super-intelligence entity to do. Here on earth, if we wanted to study ants, we could set up an ant farm. That would be easy and it wouldn't cost much. The ants would accept it. With the super beings, it could seem just as simple."

"You brought all this up where you work?" "Yes, and I told Mr. Henderson, he might be a fake."

"That wasn't very wise," Ms. Cavenaugh commented tartly. "I suppose you think I'm fake also."

"Yes, I do, but I like you, Ms. Cavenaugh. You're a nice fake."

"Suppose I told you I was real, would you believe it?" She gazed at me fixedly.

"Not if my theory is correct. You'd have to say that in order to keep up the charade."

"I see. Mr. Morrison, suppose I claimed to be real and you were fake?" She smiled.

"I'd be certain you were wrong because I know for sure I'm real, and I would tell you so," I asserted firmly.

"But then, I'd have to believe you were simply saying that to keep up the make-believe!"

"Looks like we have an impasse, Ms. Cavenaugh. I don't think either of us can prove to the other that we're real,"

"That's OK, Mr. Morrison. You're a little zany but I think I can write a note allowing you to go back to work. And, believe it or not, you've got me started on wondering whether I'm the only real person in the Universe."

"I'm pleased about that, Ms. Cavenaugh. Do you suppose we can continue this discussion over lunch tomorrow?"