PeterWatts_Blindsight

Peter Watts 65 Blindsight
there for the caffeine. We were more or less alone; the rest of the
crew was strewn from dome to Fab.
"Linguists don't use it?" I knew some that did.
"We don't." And the others are hacks. "Thing about game theory
is, it assumes rational self-interest among the players. And people
just aren't rational."
"It used to assume that," I allowed. "These days they factor in
the social neurology."
"Human social neurology." She bit a corner off her brick, spoke
around a mouthful of semolina. "That's what game theory's good
for. Rational players, or human ones. And let me take a wild stab
here and wonder if either of those is gonna apply to that." She
waved her hand at some archetypal alien lurking past the bulkhead.
"It's got its limitations," I admitted. "I guess you use the tools
you can lay your hands on."
Sascha snorted. "So if you couldn't get your hands on a proper
set of blueprints, you'd base your dream home on a book of dirty
limericks."
"Maybe not." And then, a bit defensive in spite of myself, I
added, "I've found it useful, though. In areas you might not expect
it to be."
"Yeah? Name one."
"Birthdays," I said, and immediately wished I hadn't.
Sascha stopped chewing. Something behind her eyes flickered,
almost strobed, as if her other selves were pricking up their ears.
"Go on," she said, and I could feel the whole Gang listening in.
"It's nothing, really. Just an example."
"So. Tell us." Sascha cocked James' head at me.
I shrugged. No point making a big thing out of it. "Well,
according to game theory, you should never tell anyone when your
birthday is."
"I don't follow."
"It's a lose-lose proposition. There's no winning strategy."
"What do you mean, strategy? It's a birthday."
Chelsea had said exactly the same thing when I'd tried to explain
it to her. Look, I'd said, say you tell everyone when it is and
nothing happens. It's kind of a slap in the face.