"Either we're free or we're not," said Miro. "Either the story's true or it isn't."
"The point is that we have to believe that it's true in order to live as civilized human beings," said Ender.
"No, that's not the point at all," said Miro. "Because if it's a lie, why should we bother to live as civilized human beings?"
"Because the species has a better chance to survive if we do," said Ender. "Because our genes require us to believe the story in order to enhance our ability to pass those genes on for many generations in the future. Because anybody who doesn't believe the story begins to act in unproductive, uncooperative ways, and eventually the community, the herd, will reject him and his opportunities for reproduction will be diminished--for instance, he'll be put in jail--and the genes leading to his unbelieving behavior will eventually be extinguished."
"So the puppeteer requires that we believe that we're not puppets. We're forced to believe in free will."
"Or so Valentine explained it to me."
"But she doesn't really believe that, does she?"
"Of course she doesn't. Her genes won't let her."
Ender laughed again. But Miro was not taking this lightly, as a philosophical game. He was outraged. He clenched his fists and swung out his arms in a spastic gesture that plunged his hand into the middle of the display. It caused a shadow above it, a space in which no philotic rays were visible. True empty space. Except that now Ender could see dustmotes floating in that display space, catching the light from the window and the open door of the house. In particular one large dustmote, like a short strand of hair, a tiny fiber of cotton, floating brightly in the midst of space where once only the philotic rays had been visible.
"Calm down," Ender said.
"No," Miro shouted. "My puppeteer is making me furious!"
"Shut up," said Ender. "Listen to me."
"I'm tired of listening to you!" Nevertheless he fell silent, and listened.
"I think you're right," said Ender. "I think that we are free, and I don't think it's just an illusion that we believe in because it has survival value. And I think we're free because we aren't just this body, acting out a genetic script. And we aren't some soul that God created out of nothing. We're free because we always existed. Right back from the beginning of time, only there was no beginning of time so we existed all along. Nothing ever caused us. Nothing ever made us. We simply are, and we always were."
"Philotes?" asked Miro.
"Maybe," said Ender. "Like that mote of dust in the display."
"Where?" asked Miro.
It
was invisible now, of course, since the holographic display again dominated the space above the terminal. Ender reached his hand into the display, causing a shadow to fall upward into the hologram. He moved his hand until he revealed the bright dustmote he had seen before. Or maybe it wasn't the same one. Maybe it was another one, but it didn't matter.
"Our bodies, the whole world around us, they're like the holographic display. They're real enough, but they don't show the true cause of things. It's the one thing we can never be sure of, just looking at the display of the universe--why things are happening. But behind it all, inside it all, if we could see through it, we'd find the true cause of everything. Philotes that always existed, doing what they want."
"Nothing always existed," said Miro.
"Says who? The supposed beginning of this universe, that was only the start of the present order--this display, all of what we think exists. But who says the philotes that are acting out the natural laws that began at that moment didn't exist before? And if the whole universe collapses back in on itself, who says that the philotes won't simply be released from the laws they're following now, and go back into . . ."
"Into what?"
"Into chaos. Darkness. Disorder. Whatever they were before this universe brought them together. Why couldn't they--we--have always existed and always continue to exist?"
"So where was I between the beginning of the universe and the day I was born?" said Miro.
"I don't know," said Ender. "I'm making this up as I go along."
"And where did Jane come from? Was her philote just floating around somewhere, and then suddenly she was in charge of a bunch of computer programs and she became a person?"
"Maybe," said Ender.
"And even if there's some natural system that somehow assigns philotes to be in charge of every organism that's born or spawned or germinated, how would that natural system have ever created Jane? She wasn't born."
Jane, of course, had been listening all along, and now she spoke. "Maybe it didn't happen," said Jane. "Maybe I have no philote of my own. Maybe I'm not alive."