My distorted reality, Part 1

On the surface, video game enthusiasts, Monday morning quarterbacks, pop philosophers and quantum physicists may not have anything in common. However, once you peel back the superficiality of each label, we reveal a characteristic that infects every human being: overactive imaginations.

Consider Dr. Nick Bostrom's article “Are You Living In A Computer Simulation?” which examines the likelihood of the scenario popularly proposed by the Wachowski brothers. After computing the probabilities of various statements, Dr. Bostrom arrives at the conclusion that one of the following is true:

(1) The fraction of human-level civilizations that reach a posthuman stage is very close to zero
(2) The fraction of posthuman civilizations that are interested in running ancestor-simulations is very close to zero
(3) The fraction of all people with our kind of experiences that are living in a simulation is very close to one.

A neat argument but I was surprised by Bostrom's comment in The New York Times: “My gut feeling, and it’s nothing more than that,” he says, “is that there’s a 20 percent chance we’re living in a computer simulation.” Thanks to his bemused prediction, we are likely to remember Bostrom for posing an intriguing Gedankenexperiment – if we reach a point in history where Statement (3) comes to fruition, we'll merely chuckle and proclaim him to be a great thinker.

Not so for Rob Bryanton unfortunately. This musician-cum-philosopher has been ridiculed for his presumption that there are only 10 dimensions. While quantum mechanic string theory practitioners may gripe about Bryanton's faux-science, simplifying complex concepts without academic rigour, I think the real issue at hand seems to be the flashy animation he uses to explain his theory.

In a nutshell – they are jealous that he has been able to succinctly communicate his ideas. Thanks to the emotions of an exclusive clique of thinkers, the idea that the totality of all possible existences can be represented as a dot on the 10th dimension will probably never be taken seriously.

Shouldn't we praise thinking outside of the vat? Is that not what all intellectual discourse be about? Stay tuned for part 2 – where fictional characters come to life and human beings lose their individuality in the swimming pool of creativity.

Identity Crisis

There is a part of my being that roots for him every night. With bated breath, I join the throngs, eager to witness history in the making. Like horny high school sweethearts, we wonder if tonight be the night. But with the storm clouds of allegations swirling around his stature, he stands at the brink of greatness and infamy. Still, it would be sweet poetic justice if he's forever stuck at 754. No asterisk needed, just another footnote in the long history of the sport.

I'm now sleepwalking the silent streets, chemically intoxicated, but like an unfazed Horatio Caine, I survey the scene: larger-than-life creatures preen and prune themselves, birds of paradise caught in an urban jungle. Hiding behind vapid masks and fumes of machismo, they challenge me to refute their maxim: I think that I am, therefore I am.

The ghost of Descartes is gagging, but the words of Wilber peer through the ether. Our identity is constructed from four distinct and fundamental perspectives: interior, exterior, collective, individual. We are the product a bubbling mixture of images – either forced upon or gladly swallowed. We are a projecting species, not unlike Arctor's scramble suit.

Look in the mirror – do you recognize who you see? I touch the image before my eyes and flinch. Daltrey's primitive howl shatters my visage, and I won't be fooled again.