Story: The Doctor

“I’m a doctor” I find myself saying, but “no, not that kind of doctor” — I’m not a philosopher or a surgeon, I don’t have a PhD in any field of study. You see, the role of any doctor, medical or otherwise, is to maintain and improve the functioning of a system; whether human systems, a system of knowledge, or, as I have long endeavoured to practice: the world system.

“The world”, as a philosopher friend once told me (herself a doctor of a different kind), “has always been a kind of Theseus’s Ship, constantly falling apart and being put back together again as we sail through the endless cosmos”, and thus is the natural state of humanity, a balance between building up and falling apart at the seams. Only when we fail to do our part in maintaining the integrity of that ship in any way, if we lose the sense of passion in maintaining the systems of the world, only then do things begin to truly crumble.

It is our job then, the doctors of this world (and as is the job of any doctor) to monitor, uncover symptoms, and diagnose and prescribe. Even philosophers prescribe new ideas based on hypotheses of human existence. Doctors are the first line of defence against the imbalance of a system,

[where to go from here?]