SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
THE ATOM MAGAZINE—ISSUE 98
Genius or Insanity: The Button Method
BY JESSE PHILIPS
JULY 5
There is a saying among the French that goes: “L’habit ne fait pas le moine,” meaning, “The cloth does not make the monk.” Or the more trivial English translation: Don’t judge a book by its cover.
However, if the book in question is a desperate old man clinging to social relevance by making up scientific theories that simply are not true, then perhaps we should judge that book a little. If not for the integrity of science, then at least for the sake of my own sanity.
As you may have already read in the news, the eccentric French-born billionaire Leontes Button has decided to hang up his game-master hat and have a go at creating scientific theories instead. Most will know Button as the founder of the internationally renowned games and merchandising companyButton Games, known for its bestselling, top-of-the-range action toys and puzzles. However, the billionaire’s latest endeavor has nothing to do with games for children and is instead a controversial experiment that is sending shock waves through the science community and beyond.
“The Saving Humanity Project” is centered on a simple idea:
Genius. More specifically, thescienceof genius and what it takes to make achild genius—otherwise known as a prodigy.
Mr. Button’s hypothesis for this grand experiment? That nurture is far greater than nature in the world of prodigies. One is not born a genius. No. A genius can, according to Button, be plucked from a random orphanage and made in a lab, just as one might do aluminum chloral hydrate or acetic acid.
Unfortunately for Mr. Button, a white lab coat does not make a scientist. A reputable degree, the ability to showcase cause and effect, and peer-reviewed research does.
There is the question of how Mr. Button might go about carrying out this “experiment” of his. Outside of the practicalities of it all, there is a list of ethical concerns here. One would hope that Mr. Button would know better than to test this theory of his onactualhuman beings. Someone ought to remind old Leontes that these depraved, draconian, Zimbardo-esque methods of scientific testing have not been in vogue since the 1970s; but given years of reports of the mistreatment of his staff at Button Games, I have a feeling that ethics are the least of Leontes’s concerns.
Any serious scientist would not go near Mr. Button or his experiment with a ten-foot pole, not when their own reputations would be on the line for what can only be described as amateur work.
Perhaps some of my readers may feel as though I am being too harsh. What is wrong with an old man playing games, after all?
Who knows, maybe old Leontes will prove us all wrong and invent time travel next.
Despite being advised by his team not to comment on Jesse Philip’s scathing polemic, days after the publication of the original article inThe Atom Magazine, Mr. Button published his response.
His now-famous three-word retort would later become a reality for the budding science journalist:
“Eat horse shit.”—Leontes Button (July 10)
15 YEARS (AND A FEW MONTHS) AGO
THE BUTTON MANOR
In the beginning, Henry Xu thought of it all as nothing more than a harmless game.
But as he watched the twisted scene unfold before him, he understood there was nothing harmless or entertaining about any of it.
It was like something out of a dystopian novel:
Mr. Button, seated on his brown leather chesterfield throne as one of the maids placed each child at the edge of the room, and another maid distributed the items in a row in the center—a chess piece, a violinist’s bow, a gold medal, a paintbrush, and a pencil—before they returned to their places, awaiting further instruction.
The staff had been preparing for the day’s events for several months. They’d ensured that the room was at an ideal and exact temperature for brain stimulation, that the items had been vetted by experts as optimal choices for the purpose they would soon serve, that the staff on duty would be up to their tasks and aware of the stakes at hand, signing NDAs and receiving healthy bonuses for their cooperation as well as their silence.
Each person would be a player and each player would become a pawn. As Mr. Button’s personal secretary, Henry Xu had made sure of it.
After several moments of nothing, Mr. Button surveyed the room, his gaze landing on the motionless infants all seated before him. He sighed loudly, uncrossing his legs and pushing himself out of the leather armchair.
“Children, I must remind you, today is a very special day—one you will be defined by for the rest of your lives. There is a lot riding on this going perfectly, so it is of utmost importance that you get this right. Capiche?” Mr. Buttonsaid, staring sternly down at the plump toddlers as their wide eyes blinked up at the tall, graying man who was more or less still a stranger to them.
It was impossible for the children to truly understand a word the strange old man had said, and yet Mr. Button nodded, as though the children had given him a satisfactory response.
