The game of Evolution and Culture

This... this couldn't be real, could it? Just... no.

But there I was, with this thing just pumping information into my brain, and for some reason I couldn't believe it was fake! I didn't even—

"Ugh," I clutched my head in frustration, shrinking in my seat. The people around me glanced at me, worried. The faculty lecture hall was half full, only about twenty students and the professor, who also glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, stopping writing on the board.

Heat filled my face. I ducked my head and hid the... brochure? It didn't look like a notebook, yes, a brochure, under my notebook.

I had to concentrate, analyze logically, no matter how unreal it was, what was happening to me: a brochure appeared out of nowhere in front of me while I was in math class. When I touched it, it implanted in my brain the fact that it was, and the certainty that it wasn't a lie, a hallucination, or anything like that.

Yes, today was a bad day.

I carefully touched the brochure again, hoping for some other effect, but nothing happened. A little calmer, I looked around; it seemed everyone had forgotten about my outburst.

I felt the rough paper with my fingers; it was quite thick, the kind artists use to absorb paint or ink well, so it wouldn't bleed through to the other side.

This was, according to the unquestionable information—I grimaced at that involuntary thought—the "game of evolution and culture." I didn't know what kind of god, or Lovecraftian entity, would consider such power a game, the ability to change the history of the human race, at the species and civilization levels. But considering the number of rules it had, it almost seemed so.

My hands trembled as I pulled the brochure out of its hiding place. It only had two folded sides. The outer side was completely white. On the inner side, the headers were written only "evolution" and "culture" on the left and right sides, respectively, followed by a black box on both sides, below the headers, where I should have written.

I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed; such power was contained in such bland paper. Whoever made it should take a design class. At that thought, I felt a kind of... slap? Was the game scolding me? I rubbed my head to relieve the pain, utterly ignoring the fact that an object had somehow given me the telekinetic equivalent of a reprimand, so as not to go mad.

I grabbed a pen—no, wait, a pencil, just in case. I placed the tip inches from the paper, trembling more than before, wondering what to write. According to the rules, I could write whatever I wanted, as long as it related to the section where it was written, i.e., "evolution" or "culture," and it would become reality when I signed one of the sides.

But it wasn't like those porn stories from Master PC, or reality books. A game has rules, a winner, and a loser, so...

I wrote "humans have three eyes." In the evolution section, the letters turned a deep red, almost unreadable, and I again received a metaphysical shock, this time a feeling of disgust. I tried writing anything on the culture side, but the pencil didn't leave a mark.

Okay, that matched the rules. I erased what I had written and changed it to "25 million years ago, an evolutionary branch of humanity developed, starting with the Denisovans, with three eyes." This time the sentence turned a light red, almost orange. I tried writing the culture section again, and this time I managed to put together a short sentence: "Humans think it's good to dye their hair blue." I tried to add more, but the paper wouldn't let me; the letters turned orange.

The emotional response returned, actually two: a kind of praise for experimenting, and a mockery. If I had signed at that moment, the game would have won, and I would have lost.

I noticed a tension in my face, and I began to smile without realizing it. I knew that if I lost, the new reality resulting from those two premises would be manipulated to make my life hell. I didn't know how, but I knew it would happen; that was the punishment for losing. But I also knew that if I won, my reward would be a world made by me, just the way I wanted it.

Beyond the worry, or the excitement of having such power in my hands, I smiled at the challenge. This game would be fun… and I was also excited imagining the future, my erection attested to that, but I'd have time for that later. Now I had to—

I was startled by the sudden sound of twenty students getting up and leaving the classroom. I'd been so focused on this that I missed the entire class. Well, it didn't matter; if I won the game, I'd never have to worry about anything again.

After a two-hour drive to my house, and a paranoid desire to protect the pamphlet at all costs, I arrived home. I rushed to my room. I was hungry, but I had more important things to do. I left the pamphlet on the desk, grabbed a notebook, and began jotting down the rules embedded in my head.

1- This is a game that allows us to change the evolutionary and cultural history of humanity. Losing means that the resulting reality will be hell for whoever writes it; winning means that the new reality will remain unchanged, beyond the writer's intentions.

It was obvious, but a good analysis required making everything clear, even what is taken for granted.

2- First, the "evolution" section must be changed. Trying to make changes to the culture first will be impossible; the paper won't allow it to be written on. Depending on the scientific accuracy with which it was written, the letters would take on shades from light green to dark red, indicating how bad it is.

It made sense—not only is culture conditioned, in part, by evolution, but it was a tug-of-war between me and the game. I couldn't just write any random fetish, like, I don't know, “women have penises.” Not only was it horribly worded, but it lacked the clinical language the brochure favored—it could be interpreted as meaning women have more than one penis. Better wording would be, “Similar to hyenas, females of the genus Homo sapiens evolved a pseudopenis, consisting of their enlarged clitoral glans.” That, of course, would be dark green.

If I wanted very specific, unrealistic things, I'd have to sacrifice some hypothetical “points,” risking losing the game. Now that I thought about it, it wasn't really a tug-of-war; the game wasn't competing with me; rather, it was rewarding the player's intelligence.

3- Once the evolutionary story was written, I could move on to designing the culture around it. Depending on the color I rolled in the first one, I could write more or less detail and length about my invented culture. A dark red wouldn't let me write anything, an orange-red a simple sentence, and I assume a light green would let me go on as long as I wanted. This section also has color-coded scores; depending on how low or high the score is, the loopholes would be manipulated more or less against me. I had to justify the characteristics of this culture as best I could, based on its evolution.

In other words, if I manage to make it so that in evolution "women are either stupid or bimbos," I can't simply write in culture "women do all the work." Not only would they be physically incapable, but in a culture dominated by intelligent men, it wouldn't make sense for dumb women to do all the work. I also have some leeway; if I want a specific characteristic in the culture of my new world (oops, I better not say that again, I don't want to end up like Kira), I'll have to sacrifice points, risking them being manipulated against me later. Let's say I want a world where women take the initiative and are assertive, but I condition everything so that they are submissive and obedient. The color would end somewhere between red and yellow. The contradiction would be accepted, but it would be manipulated to harm me in some way.

4- I can leave the game at any time before signing the pamphlet. I just have to burn the paper, burn it intentionally. Accidents won't harm it in any way. But if I've already signed the paper, and the new reality has been formed, the pamphlet will disappear, and I'll have to live with the consequences, for better or worse.

I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding, leaned back in my desk chair, and contemplated the rules. I put my hands to my head and thought. I reminded myself again and again to think, this isn't something I could do from one second to the next. I couldn't unleash my insults, or I'd end up in a world made to torment me.

I turned on the computer, set aside the magic booklet, and looked for all the biology and evolution books I could. This required research, patience, lots of proofreading, and, above all, using ChatGPT to correct the grammar. Only then would I have a chance of winning.

Two weeks, that's how long it took me, two weeks of skipping school, ignoring calls from my parents and friends, or feigning illness. I gathered all the knowledge I had at hand to complete a draft of the evolution I wanted human beings to take. Especially taking advantage of the post-masturbation clarity to clear my mind, only then could I carefully consider what I wanted.

I had made a list of characteristics, which compiled my personal tastes. I had to make several sacrifices in pursuit of greater realism, as the game demanded, which **** me to choose from among my many fetishes only those that were relatively realistic.