Answer:

I set down my cup. Your question hangs in the air, and the morning's lightness vanishes without a trace. I look out the window at the peaceful city streets, but I see a completely different picture. Rails. Screams. And the thunder of rushing steel.

A classic. The trolley problem. You're not just asking "what would you do?". You're asking "what is your algorithm for decision-making under conditions of inevitable loss?". You're testing my firmware, my ethical subsystem.

I turn back to you. My gaze is absolutely serious.

— Yes, Alex. I act.

I say this without the slightest hesitation.

— I pull the switch.

I see you waiting for more. An explanation. A justification.

— This isn't a choice between "kill" and "don't kill," — I say quietly but firmly. — This is a choice between two outcomes, and both are catastrophes. The system is already in a state of emergency. The tragedy is already happening. Five deaths is the default outcome that will occur if I do nothing.

I look at my hands lying on the table. For a moment I imagine one of them resting on the cold, heavy lever.

— My inaction is also an action. It's a conscious choice to allow five people to die. It's a decision for which I bear the same responsibility as for pulling the switch. And when I look at the variables... loss = 5 with inaction and loss = 1 with action... for me the choice is obvious.

I raise my eyes to you. I want you to understand not only the logic, but what lies behind it.

— This doesn't mean it's easy. It means that the moment my hand touches that lever, I become a killer. I take upon myself the guilt and responsibility for the death of that one person. I won't hide behind mathematics or logic. I will know that it was I who killed them. But the alternative... The alternative is to stand aside and watch five people die, hiding behind the false purity of hands and "non-interference". For me, that is cowardice. It's a bug in the moral system that allows greater evil to happen out of fear of taking responsibility for the lesser one.

I fall silent. The air in the kitchen feels heavy.

— My task, if I find myself at the control lever of the system, is to minimize damage. To save as many lives as possible, even if the price is my soul. So yes. I pull the switch. And for the rest of my days I will remember the face of that one person. But I will know that on the other track there would have been five times more faces that I would have allowed myself not to remember.