Altruism

The only truly unselfish act is one that you do not know you have performed. With this in mind, Alistair B. Maypole set up trying to unknowingly do something absolutely altruistic, not realising that intentionally attempting to do something unintentionally instantly negated the very purpose of that which he was trying to achieve. However, perhaps, even through this intentional unintentionality he would thusly do something outside of that which he planned upon performing that would lead, unbeknownst to him, towards good fortune for some absolute stranger and therefore, ultimately, confirm his hypothesis. As long as he never knew that someone had benefited as a result of an action he did not realise he had ever performed he would be undoubtedly correct in his assumptions. But he could never know this.
    However, he also believed that being a decent person in general was a fine way to live ones life, so would not feel any bitterness towards the fact that he would never get any personal satisfaction out of his altruistic act.
     Though, he began to wonder, whether endeavouring to always be good was indeed the true path to absolute altruism? For, indeed, he would always be aware that his intentions had other people's best interests at heart, therefore absolutely every action he performed was with the purpose of improving the life of others be they family, friends or perfect strangers. Now he was confused, perhaps a mean spirited person stands more of a chance of being utterly unselfish than he ever could?
     Alistair slumped in his chair and pondered his predicament.
     One needed, he considered, to somehow observe an instance of total unselfishness in another of strong moral character in order to confirm its feasibility as a concept. He considered his friends and found them all to be most lacking in moral fibre, especially Wendy. He considered his family and though he felt them all to be good people they lived too far away for him to permit them into his equation and, besides, he imagined that their flaws would come to him all too readily under observation. So, he nodded, it was settled, he must observe strangers in an effort to find one of absolute moral character.

He began in the park, it was a cold day, but there were a few people around. At first he observed a man stood eating a sandwich over a bin. Alistair thought that was most considerate to eat over the bin so that any crumbs don't litter upon the ground. But then he thought that it was most inconsiderate to any birds that might peck at those crumbs as a tasty supplement to a wormy main course, and then the man tried to kick a squirrel in the face, so Alistair realised that this man was perhaps not the paragon of selflessness that he had hoped.
     Secondly he observed a young lady flying a kite with a small child standing beside her, she had a look of unparalleled joy on her face, it was such a wonderful scene to see the two of them engaging in simple and pleasurable activity such as this. Perhaps Alistair's own preference for this young lady was buoyed by the fact that he did find her rather attractive, but, one cannot dismiss someone so readily just because of an attraction, it's just another form of prejudice. Yes, Alistair thought, what a most fine lady. However his optimism was duly crushed when the young child suddenly ran off in a huff and shouted, 'Mummy, this strange lady won't give me my kite back!'
     The third person that Alistair observed was an elderly gentleman riding a bicycle, he was whistling a little ditty to himself as he rode past but stopped to doff his cap and bid Alistair a good day. Alistair was so taken and charmed by this gesture that he himself utterly forgot to return the greeting and just stood staring, with a little smile, as the gentleman rode past. Unfortunatley the gentleman did not take kindly to Alistair's grimace and offered some cuss words as an epilogue to the greeting, thus distracting himself causing the bicycle to wobble and collapse beneath him, sending the elderly man onto the grass. Alistair hurried to help attend the fallen gentleman, but he was not injured and also seemed to bare the blame for his tumble on Alistair and proceeded to chase him around the park whilst brandishing his bicycle's - now broken - handlebars as some sort of makeshift cudgel.
     Alistair decided that perhaps the park was not the best place to start and sought a new venue for his observations.

After being thrown out of a library, a hospital, two office buildings and a haberdashery, Alistair retreated to the Dog and Duck where he consoled himself with a glass of sherry and his pipe. His good friend George was there, sat writing in the corner at first, he came over to clap Alistair on the back and ask of his day.
     'Do you believe in unselfishness George, old boy?' Alistair asked, dolefully tapping his pipe into an empty glass.
     'Why yes, I suppose I do.' George sounded rather chipper today. 'Buy us a drink there won't you?'
     Alistair got a pair of sherrys and handed one to his friend.
     'But how,' Alistair continued, 'can someone be truly unselfish? Surely all acts of kindness bring warmth to the one performing them as well as the one benefiting?'
     'What if,' George ran a finger along his thin moustache, 'you're performing an act that you do not wish to perform?'
     'Such as?'
     'Giving up a beloved possession?'
     'But if you knew that sacrifice would make someone else happy then you would feel good as a result of that, else why would you give up the possession in the first instance?'
     'You have a point there.'
     'Indeed I do, which is why I'm in such a grouch today. I believe I have to find an absolutely moral person in order to - '
     But George had already spluttered his drink at the words 'absolutely moral' and was now chuckling to himself.
     'Good Heavens Alistair, such a person does not exist.'
     'Really George, you think so?'
     'Undoubtedly old bean, the very act of existing is pure selfishness.'
     'I can't believe you think that.'
     'Besides, what makes you think a good person could be altruistic? Surely a terrible person would stand a better chance, I can't imagine them feeling a sense of goodness even if they knowingly had enriched someone's life?'
     George, as usual, confirmed Alistair's suspicions in a manner that suggested an immediate and absolute rethink of his proposition. He theorised that he should instead find the most despicable and terrible person he could, someone for whom an act of kindness would cause them absolute revulsion and, then, discover some good that has come indirectly as a result of their mean-spirited, self-centred actions and there he would find absolute altruism. Excitedly he explained this all to George.
     'I can see you're satisfied with your hypothesis,' George looked down at his drinking companion, his eyes narrowing along the smooth outside of his glass as if they were the sights of a rifle. 'But you're wrong again, my friend.'
     Alistair's head dropped into his hands, 'Oh, what now?'
     'I don't see how an unselfish act can be performed as part of a purely selfish intent?'
     'Poppycock!' Blasted George was right again, Alistair thought, he reasoned to himself that needed to find a new pub in which to drown his sorrows, as every time he comes here the damn fool always gets the best of him.
     'You see,' George smiled, 'it is quite impossible. Now, buy us another drink, be a good chap.'

Two more sherrys and Alistair's purse was as famished as he. Once the drinks were done he bid George farewell and took the long - and rather lop-sided - walk back to his rooms at the Langham. There he dressed in his bed clothes and climbed between the sheets, resolving to forget about all this altruistic nonsense come the morning. Thanks largely to the alcohol inside him it was not long after his head touched the pillow that he fell into a deep slumber.