Free Chicken Little by Cory Doctorow Page A

have talked about where you'd fit in here --"
    "You never said anything about that," he said. "I could have saved you a lot of trouble. I don't talk about it."
    Ria shook her head. "This is Buhle. You won't stop us from doing anything we want to do. I'm not trying to intimidate you here. It's just a fact of life. If we want to replicate your experiment, we can, on any scale we want --"
    "But I won't be a part of it," he said. "That matters."
    "Not as much as you think it does. And if you think you can avoid being a part of something that Buhle wants you for, you're likely to be surprised. We can get you what you want."
    "No you can't," he said. "If there's one thing I know, it's that you can't do that."

He tried not to stare inside it, but he couldn't stop himself.

Take one normal human being at lunch. Ask her about her breakfast. If lunch is great, she'll tell you how great breakfast is. If lunch is terrible, she'll tell you how awful breakfast was.
    Now ask her about dinner. A bad lunch will make her assume that a bad dinner is forthcoming. A great lunch will make her optimistic about dinner.
    Explain this dynamic to her and ask her again about breakfast. She'll struggle to remember the actual details of breakfast, the texture of the oatmeal, whether the juice was cold and delicious or slightly warm and slimy. She will remember and remember and remember for all she's worth, and then, if lunch is good, she'll tell you breakfast was good. And if lunch is bad, she'll tell you breakfast was bad.
    Because you just can't help it. Even though you know you're doing it, you can't help it.
    But what if you could?
    ***
    "It was the parents," he said, as they picked their way through the treetops, along the narrow walkway, squeezing to one side to let the eager, gabbling researchers past. "That was the heartbreaker. Parents only remember the good parts of parenthood. Parents whose kids are grown remember a succession of sweet hugs, school triumphs, sports victories, and they simply forget the vomit, the tantrums, the sleep deprivation... It's the thing that lets us continue the species, this excellent facility for forgetting. That's what should have tipped me off."
    Ria nodded solemnly. "But there was an upside, wasn't there?"
    "Oh, sure. Better breakfasts, for one thing. And the weight-loss -- amazing. Just being able to remember how shitty you felt the last time you ate the chocolate bar or pigged out on fries. It was amazing."
    "The applications do sound impressive. Just that weight-loss one --"
    "Weight-loss, addiction counseling, you name it. It was all killer apps, wall to wall."
    "But?"
    He stopped abruptly. "You must know this," he said. "If you know about Clarity -- that's what I called it, Clarity -- then you know about what happened. With Buhle's resources, you can find out anything, right?"
    She made a wry smile. "Oh, I know what history records. What I don't know is what happened . The official version, the one that put Ate onto you and got us interested --"
    "Why'd you try to kill Buhle?"
    "Because I'm the only one he can't bullshit, and I saw where he was going with his little experiment. The competitive advantage to a firm that knows about such a radical shift in human cognition -- it's massive. Think of all the products that would vanish if numeracy came in a virus. Think of all the shifts in governance, in policy. Just imagine an airport run by and for people who understand risk!"
    "Sounds pretty good to me," Leon said.
    "Oh sure," she said. "Sure. A world of eager consumers who know the cost of everything and the value of nothing. Why did evolution endow us with such pathological innumeracy? What's the survival advantage in being led around by the nose by whichever witch-doctor can come up with the best scare-story?"
    "He said that entrepreneurial things -- parenthood, businesses..."
    "Any kind of risk-taking. Sports. No one swings for the stands when he knows that the odds are so much better on a bunt."
    "And Buhle