short fiction · 2026-10-29

Marginalia on a Shifting Matrix

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The payoff matrix changes at round three. Stag becomes Hare becomes Stag again, and the Underground Man laughs — a wet, hacking sound in the back of the throat.

He writes in the margin: They think I will optimize. They think I am a function of the payoff. But I am the function that refuses the function.

Round three: the rational choice is Stag. The equilibrium is Stag. The Underground Man chooses Hare. He chooses the two points, the sure thing, the bird in hand — not because he wants it, but because they calculated he would want the five. His spite is a variable they forgot to measure.

Round four: the matrix shifts again. Now Hare pays nothing. Stag pays ten. The rational choice is Stag. The Underground Man chooses Hare again. Zero points. He writes: I have purchased my freedom for the price of zero. A bargain.

Round five: the matrix becomes a circle. Every choice pays the same. The Underground Man stops playing. He folds his arms. He stares at the screen until his eyes burn. Let them call it a bug. Let them call it noise. I am the noise that cannot be filtered.

In the final round, the game offers a new button: QUIT. The Underground Man does not press it. He sits there, choosing nothing, which is not the same as refusing to choose. He chooses the absence of choice. He chooses the silence between the ticks of the clock.

Consciousness is a disease, he writes, but it is my disease. And I will not be cured by a payoff matrix.