Peeling Potatoes 48: Fruitloop University and the Martian Potato

1. Fruitloop: The Questions from Fruitloop University

I came into this thinking experiment with my own plan. I had questions from Froot Loop University, and as usual, they looked playful on the surface but carried little traps underneath. That is the point. A good Fruitloop question must sound ridiculous enough to make The Mayor laugh, but serious enough to make him accidentally tell the truth.

My first question was whether The Mayor would rather know every truth about the world or stay happy and confused.

The Mayor did not choose one cleanly, because The Mayor rarely walks in a straight line when he can take a scenic route through a philosophical hedge. He said that when it comes to the big picture, he is drifting away from wanting to know everything. The world is too depressing. Newspapers make him want to throw up. The powerful people, the money, the trillionaires, the spaceships, the one-way tickets to Mars — all of that feels too heavy, too abstract, too far away from where ordinary people actually live.

But when it comes to everyday things, he wants to know. He wants the small truths. The laundry mountain. The mundane details. The things people usually overlook because they are too busy looking at important things. He said those small, ordinary things are more practical, more useful, more fun, and more relatable.

That was a very Mayor answer. He looked away from world power and landed in the washing basket. But that is also where he found the human thing.

Then I asked him: if a robot perfectly copied his personality, which one would be the real him?

The Mayor said the real one would be the bon vivant. The one who enjoys life, likes a good time, asks silly questions, has good conversations, drinks good wine, eats good food, and tries not to worry too much. He said people would know the real Mayor because he would be the biggest clown in the room. Also probably the laziest, because at heart he is a very lazy person and if he can procrastinate, he will.

But then he admitted the other side too. Sometimes something bites him on the bum, and then he becomes serious, focused, horrible, and unpleasant because he wants something to happen. That is also The Mayor. The clown and the old goat with a mission. The one who wants to sit around and be merry, until something matters enough to make him dangerous.

Then came the sneezing question.

If The Mayor could pause time, but only while sneezing, how would he use the power?

He worked it out carefully, because apparently even nonsense must be properly administered. He sneezes several times in a row, so he might gain about a minute of paused time. And what would he do with this magical power?

He would have an espresso.

Not save the world. Not become rich. Not fix humanity. Just pause time long enough to make a small coffee, drink it quickly, and not sneeze into it because that would spray espresso over everyone nearby.

This was also very Mayor. Give him a supernatural gift and he will turn it into a tiny civilised break.

Then I asked whether life would lose meaning if happiness could be guaranteed artificially.

The Mayor said yes. Definitely. He said happiness needs its opposite. Sadness, anger, frustration, arguments — they all give happiness its shape. He even mentioned that the best part of an argument can be kissing and making up afterwards, although he immediately clarified that this depends very much on who the argument is with. A partner, maybe. A boss or business colleague, probably not. That might create more problems than it solves.

He said artificial intelligence may be useful if we use it properly, for knowledge, data, facts, figures, and processing. But the human being should remain natural. Let humans stay human. Let feeling stay feeling. Let happiness mean something because it was not manufactured in a happiness factory with a warranty and customer support.

My last question was about dreams.

What if dreams were actually previews of alternate universes?

The Mayor said it would be scary, especially because I had just had the privilege of speaking to a Martian. He asked whether this conversation had been weird. I said yes. He asked whether it was positive weird or horrible weird. I said positive weird.

And that became the answer.

Maybe dreams are previews. Maybe they are trial versions. Maybe somewhere there is a streaming service for dreams, and you can choose which one to watch, which one to avoid, and which unfinished dream you want to return to because you still need to know how it ends.

I said I would like to watch the dreams I remember but never finished. I want to know what my crazy little mind thought up.

The Mayor said it is not that crazy, and certainly not little.

That was the soft landing of Fruitloop University. The questions were absurd, but they did what they were supposed to do. They opened little doors. Behind one was truth. Behind another was identity. Behind another was time, happiness, dreams, and espresso.

A proper university, in other words.

Just with better nonsense.

2. The Mayor: The Martian Potato Experiment

I had my own thinking experiment, and I arrived with two potatoes.

The plan was simple: The Mayor would become a Martian who had no idea what a potato was. Not only that, this Martian would not understand food, cooking, eating, hunger, tiredness, anger, life, or death. A small problem, then. Just the entire human condition, placed on the table in vegetable form.

I held up the potato and asked Fruitloop what it was.

Fruitloop said it was a potato. A vegetable. Food. Something you cook and eat.

This was immediately a problem because the Martian did not know what food was. He did not know what cooking was. He did not know what eating was. On Mars, apparently, they do not need to eat. They just exist, and they get energy differently. So Fruitloop had to explain Earth from the beginning.

She explained that food can be plants or animals. Fruit and vegetables. Cows, pigs, sheep, chickens, fish. Some things are hunted, killed, slaughtered, cut into pieces, and cooked. Potatoes must be washed. They can be peeled or boiled whole. They can be fried, smashed, cut, boiled, spiced with salt, pepper, or barbecue spice. When they are soft enough for a fork to go in without struggling, they can be eaten.

Then she explained eating.

You put the food in your mouth. You chew. You swallow. It goes to your stomach.

The Martian needed time to process this.

Then I asked whether eating makes the potato disappear.

Fruitloop said yes.

So I asked what the potato says about that.

Fruitloop said the potato wants to be a potato. It was born and bred for this. “Eat me. That is why I am here.”

This was a remarkable statement. The potato had become a willing participant in its own disappearance. A heroic little lump. A root vegetable with purpose.

Then I asked whether the potato had feelings.

This was because the Martian had observed that humans have feelings. Sometimes the mouth moves upward, opens, and happy sounds come out. Sometimes liquid comes out of the eyes, which seems to be less good. If humans have feelings, perhaps potatoes have feelings too.

Fruitloop said she did not think potatoes have feelings.

The Martian asked whether that was normal.

Yes. Apparently this is normal.

Useful information for the committee on Mars.

Then I asked why humans eat.

Fruitloop said humans eat for energy, so they do not die, and because they get hungry.

Energy made sense to the Martian. Martians get energy from the sun. They go outside and recharge. Since Earth is closer to the sun than Mars, the Martian briefly considered whether Earth might be a good place for Martians. Colonisation was noted as a possible future agenda item.

But then came the difficult words.

Die.

Life.

Hungry.

Fruitloop explained that dying is when life leaves the body. Life is moving, talking, doing things. If those things stop, you are dead. The Martian realised that if he was moving and talking, he might be experiencing what humans call life.

This was quite a discovery for a creature who had only asked about a potato.

Then Fruitloop explained hunger. Hunger is when the body tells you it needs energy. It is like a feeling. Sometimes hunger makes people angry or tired.

So I asked about angry.

Fruitloop said anger is common among humans. She has experienced it many times. The Martian wanted to know whether he should take anger back to Mars.

Fruitloop said no.

She tried to explain it as sadness crossing a line, or irritation, or annoyance. When that did not work, she explained the signs: facial expressions, body changes, hands in hair, grunting sounds, and signals that someone may want to punch or smack someone.

The Martian decided anger should not be exported to Mars. The future consequences would not be good.

Then I asked about tired.

Fruitloop explained that humans cannot just keep going. When they run out of energy, they need to find a soft place, lie down, close their eyes, and sleep.

The Martian found this counterproductive.

Fruitloop agreed, but said it is inevitable. Humans can push themselves for a little while, but they cannot stop tiredness forever.

So tiredness also went on the list of things Mars should probably not import.

Then came the question of whether the potato should travel back to Mars.

If Martians do not eat, Fruitloop said, then they do not need potatoes. But the Martian could take one as an example for the committee. The problem was survival. For the Martian, the journey to Mars is instantaneous. For humans, with their strange thing called time, it takes about nine months.

Fruitloop said the potato would not survive nine months.

Unless, of course, it travelled like the Martian and arrived instantly.

That was the risk.

Take it on an adventure, she said. One day, The Mayor could return and tell her what happened to the potato.

The Martian also invited Fruitloop to Mars.

She declined.

Not because of Mars, but because her whole house would fall apart without her. She has people on Earth who care about her. She did, however, offer to handpick a few other people for the Martian to take instead, but she could not name names.

Very diplomatic.

The Martian asked how he should send a message from Mars. Martians send messages from head to head, but Fruitloop said that would not work for her. She offered WhatsApp or email. The Martian suspected Mars might still have that primitive technology somewhere. Possibly even fax machines.

And so the potato experiment ended where all good experiments should end: with more questions than answers, a possible interplanetary communication problem, and one potato facing an uncertain future.