It’s important to think critically about the information you receive at any given time. For example, earlier, this girl told me that “boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.” I could have simply accepted that as a fact, as I am sure many do. I however deployed the power of critical thinking against this statement. Upon examining the words carefully, you can find a few factors that appear to undermine its assertions. Firstly, there is the idea that anyone, let alone boys, could go to Jupiter with our current levels of technology. Jupiter is very far away, and even adults have only ever set foot on Earth’s moon, which is much closer. If they can’t cross the distance that would be required to get to Jupiter, how can boys? Secondly, the gravity of Jupiter is so high that it would crush the bodies of the boys who went there. You may argue that crushing the boys does indeed reduce their capacity to reason, therefore making them stupider, but then why wouldn’t the girl have said, “boys go to Jupiter to get crushed by its high gravitational forces”? Another potential explanation is that the boys are only going into orbit around Jupiter, but again, the girl could have simply said “boys go into orbit around Jupiter to get more stupider,” so, again, we must return to take the original statement at face value. Thirdly, I want to bring into question the idea that Jupiter does indeed make you stupider. The fact is that nobody really knows what Jupiter does, because nobody has been to Jupiter, at least thus far. It’s entirely possible that Jupiter has no particular effect on intelligence. Moreover, a costly and time-consuming trip to a planet as dangerous as Jupiter seems wasteful when we have many easily available ways to become stupider right here on Earth. That is to say I will retain a skeptical stance toward boys going to Jupiter to get more stupider until I am presented with something more than speculation and circumstantial evidence, or at least until recess is over.

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a sequel to The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas that's the travel journal of a guy who walked away from Omelas as he discovers all these exciting new trolley-problem societies beyond the mountain

Day 1. I've officially left my home. It feels like tearing out my organs to do so, but now that I've seen that tiny cancerous root of suffering, I know I cannot stay. There must be a better world out there. There must be a place where happiness is more than a zero-sum game -- or else this world is for naught.

Day 10. I've made it through the mountains (barely, only barely) and have reached the city of Amohal. The skies are gray, the buildings are gray, the people are gray. My tour guide, a flat-voiced woman in a flat-voiced tunic, tells me of the rule of balance: whenever one person in Amohal suffers, another rejoices just as much. If you stub your toe, your neighbor may find a lucky penny; if you discover true love, it's the result of someone -- maybe someone you know, maybe someone you don't -- losing it. All things remain in balance: loss is always happy, and gain is always sad. You cannot control happiness entering your life, but the moral thing is to never seek it out, lest it come at the misfortune of another. Perhaps I'll stay here a few days, taking on some pain in the penance mines; there's a child's birthday coming up tomorrow, and we want to make sure it's a good one.

Day 15: I will leave Amohal soon. Suffering for others felt noble until yesterday, when I remembered a rosy-fond memory of Omelas and let out a smile. A man on the other side of the road dropped a bag of groceries, and the wince of eggs cracking reminded me of my stoic duty.

Day 19. Having departed Amohal, I've followed a grief-caravan to the city of Evlag, a religious place where the truest god is sorrow. The idea is that fleet-and-fickle happiness cannot be trusted, but even the simplest sadness is pure and undeniable. There are minor gods of disgust, fear, rage, but Sorrow is the faith around which all congregate. Mothers weep for their children's eventual deaths, newlyweds weep for their inevitable parting, and the bereaved savor their all-consuming grief. Happiness is childish, so only children are happy (and adults, when they think no one is looking.) This is not the place for me.

Day 23. I've come across a new city where everyone's always just a little bit sad, except every day there's a randomly-chosen person who gets to be extremely happy for 24 hours. The happy man of the day is currently running around naked, screaming in glee, as glum onlookers quietly wish to join him. I'm not sure this is better?

Day 85: The traveling town of Livran is entirely on rails. Unfortunately, just as I arrived, the brakes failed. It is currently hurtling towards a fork in its path where