The Good Place

This is an exciting day.

We are going to tackle The Trolley Problem.

Is this a game? I go first. I call blue.

There's no... this is...

No, this is a thought experiment first introduced

by British philosopher Philippa Foot in 1967.

You are driving a trolley when the brakes fail,

and on the track ahead of you are five workmen

that you will run over.

Now, you can steer to another track, but on that track

is one person you would kill instead of the five.

What do you do?

Do we know anything about the people?

Like, is one of them an ex-boyfriend

or that snooty girl from Rite Aid

who was always silently judging my purchases?

It's like, yeah, chicky, a Baby Ruth and birth control.

I see the irony. Keep a-swipin'.

You don't know any of the workers.

Okay, well, then that's easy. I switch tracks.

Kill one person instead of five.

But this is hard because the only trolley

I've ever been on is James Franco's ironic trolley.

It travels backwards from his penguin grotto

to his garage of adult tricycles.

- Um, kill one, save five. - Good!

But there's a lot of other versions of this,

like what if you knew one of the people?

Does that change the equation?

Or what if you're not the driver, you're just a bystander?

Or let's throw the trolley out altogether.

Let's say you're a doctor, and you can save five patients.

But you have to kill one healthy person

and use his organs to do it.

But that's not the same thing.

Why not?

It's still choosing to kill one person to save five, isn't it?

Michael, you've been kind of quiet.

What do you think about all this?

Well, obviously the dilemma is clear.

How do you kill all six people?

So I would dangle a sharp blade out the window

to slice the neck of the guy on the other track

as we smush our five main guys.

Oh, I did the thing again, didn't I?

- Yep. Ten more, buddy. - People good. People good.

Why is that so hard to remember? People... What is it?

- Good. - Good.

Cool. Later, guys.

Oh, hey, twerps, we have an hour

before we have to pretend to be tortured by Vicky.

You want to hang out?

We could work on our forced grins.

Check mine out.

This place is miserable, etcetera.

- That sounds fun. - Right?

But I was gonna dive into next week's reading, I'm afraid.

Sorry. Jason, do you, um, care to join?

Sure, dog.

You're doing extra-credit work?

What can I say? This class is more fun than I thought.

Eleanor seemed a little suspicious earlier,

snooping around.

You didn't tell her about us, did you?

No.

Why are you so scared

that someone will know we're pounding it out?

Precisely because you refer to lovemaking

as "pounding it out."

Who cares about what other people might think

about us being together?

Maybe you should talk about this with a friend.

But then that person would know we were together.

Right. Then you can talk about why it is

that you don't want anyone to know we're together.

But then that person would know,

and I don't want anyone to know.

I know.

I'm saying you should talk to someone about how weird it is

that you don't want to talk to someone

about how we're together.

How's it going, teach?

Hmm, kitchen looks nice and crazy.

I've been racking my brain,

trying to find a way to get through to Michael.

What do you think about writing a rap musical about Kierkegaard?

I think that's a terrible idea.

Cool.

- - Michael's not going to learn

how to be a good person overnight.

He's not even a person.

He's just a bunch of evil

shoved up the butt of an evil mannequin, you know.

Teaching him to be good... it's like...

teaching me how to be not hot.

How would you even do it?

You'd have me hunch or something

and then stand there and say "gurp, gurp, gurp"?

I don't even know.

I can't even picture it because I've been hot my whole life.

I'm sorry. Who is this conversation for again?

It's for you.

I believe in you, nerd boy.

If you can teach me and Jason ethics,

you can teach anybody.

Thanks.

But definitely a no on the rap musical?

I mean, if we really...

My name is Kierkegaard,

and my writing is impeccable.

Check out my teleological suspension of the ethical.

- No. - No! Right?

No, it felt like a no when I was doing it.

- Janet? - Hi, there.

If I were to tell you something personal about myself,

you couldn't tell anyone about it, right?

Right.

So, in a way, you're sort of like a therapist.

Absolutely not. A therapist is a trained medical professional

with the ability to absorb and process complex ideas

about human emotion.

I am simply a vessel

containing all of the knowledge in the universe.

Close enough. Jason and I are sleeping together.

Okay.

Obviously, no one can ever know.

I mean, I wouldn't shag Jason if he were the last man on Earth.

But... well, he sort of is, and I am...

shagging him, I mean.

And I think I'm losing my mind, so please help me.

Well, my job is to make your experience here

in the afterlife more enjoyable, so I will try to help you.

I am going to need some time

to read every book ever written about human psychotherapy.

And now I've done that, so let's begin.

- Have a seat. -

Hi, I'm your therapist, Janet.

I just want to have a little chat about your progress.

In the last homework assignment,

I asked you to examine the ethics of "Les Misérables,"

in which a man steals a loaf of bread

to feed his starving family.

Would you please read your first paragraph here?

"Everyone in this story sucks and belongs in the Bad Place.

"The thief is bad. The officer chasing him is bad.

"All the whiny prostitutes are bad.

"Plus, they're all French,

so they're going to the Bad Place automatically."

Do you see how you're already off topic?

Chidi, I've been around a long time...

like, all of it.

But I know for a fact that if you steal a loaf of bread,

it's a negative 17 points...

20 if it's a baguette because that makes you more French.

Okay. Sure. But philosophy is

about questioning things that you take for granted,

and I-I just don't think that you're doing that.

I mean, "I personally know that Victor Hugo

"is in the Bad Place being tortured.

"He's a real wuss, too.

"If one of the lava monsters even gets near the guy,

"he's like, 'Sacré bleu, I peed in my pants.'"

I don't know what you want from me.

T-that's exactly what he said.

Jason's a nice person,

but my suitors were always of a certain echelon.

I used what I called the "Duke Rule,"

because Duke is both minimum acceptable university

and rank of nobility.

You've never dated anyone like Jason before.

I mean, I've dallied below my station.

I once had a brief fling with a non-famous Hemsworth brother,

but even Larry Hemsworth had more status than Jason.

Jason didn't even have a job...

in a sad way, not in the good, rich way.

Hey, guys. What are you doing?

Sitting in a room?

That's pretty cool.

I took your suggestion,

and I'm talking to Janet about our relationship.

Actually, it might help me

if I could hear Jason's side as well.

Oh, no, no, no. That'll only slow things down.

Look, I'll tell you his side.

He thinks that I have to control everything

and that he has no voice in this relationship.

Right, Jason? Good. Now, where were we?

I just... heard that.

Okay, fine. I'll leave.

I just don't feel like you're engaging with the material...

like with The Trolley Problem.

That was just tricky. That's all.

Why don't you just tell me the right answer?

Well, that's what's so great about The Trolley Problem

is that there is no right answer.

Ugh.

This is why everyone hates moral philosophy professors.

I'm on your side here, dude, but he is not wrong.

Okay, Michael...

trust me.