Lecture 13: reality

we are living in a simulation, or else... likely nobody ever will (Nick Bostrom): ABSTRACT. This paper argues that at least one of the following propositions is true:
  1. the human species is very likely to go extinct before reaching a "posthuman" stage;
  2. any posthuman civilization is extremely unlikely to run a significant number of simulations of their evolutionary history (or variations thereof);
  3. we are almost certainly living in a computer simulation.
It follows that the belief that there is a significant chance that we will one day become posthumans who run ancestor-simulations is false, unless we are currently living* in a simulation.


* 'Ah, I understand . . .' the master said, glancing around, 'you've killed us, we're dead. Oh, how intelligent that is! And how timely! Now I understand everything.'
   'Oh, for pity's sake,' replied Azazello, 'is it you I hear talking? Your friend calls you a master, you can think, so how can you be dead? Is it necessary, in order to consider yourself alive, to sit in a basement and dress yourself in a shirt and hospital drawers? It's ridiculous! . . .'
   [from The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov]

slide 3

implications

"The possibility expressed by alternative (3) is the conceptually most intriguing one. If we are living in a simulation, then the cosmos that we are observing is just a tiny piece of the totality of physical existence. The physics in the universe where the computer is situated that is running the simulation may or may not resemble the physics of the world that we observe. While the world we see is in some sense 'real', it is not located at the fundamental level of reality."

why care?

From a short story, "The Janitor on Mars", by Martin Amis:

"...The War with the Scythers of the Orion Spur was hotly prosecuted for just over a billion years. Who won? We did. They're still there, the Scythers. Their planet is still there. The nature of war changed, during that trillennium. It was no longer nuclear or quantum-gravitational. It was neurological. Informational. Life goes on for the Scythers, but its quality has been subtly reduced. We fixed it so that they think they're simulations in a deterministic computer universe. It is believed that this is the maximum suffering you can visit on a type-V world."

slide 9

Greg Egan on the nature of Copy consciousness

"For any human, absolute proof of Copy sentience was impossible. For any Copy, the truth was self-evident: cogito ergo sum. End of discussion.

There were questions about the nature of this [...] condition which the existence of Copies illuminated more starkly than anything which had come before them. Questions which needed to be explored before the human race could confidently begin to bequeath its culture, its memories, its purpose and identity, to its successors.

Questions which only a Copy could answer."

[Permutation City, p.45]

Experiment 1

"What am I? The data? The process that generates it? The relationships between the numbers? All of the above?" [p.47]

"And if the computations behind all this had been performed over millennia, by people flicking abacus beads, would he have felt exactly the same?

It was outrageous to admit it — but the answer had to be yes."

slide 15

Experiment 2

  • trial 1: reverse order [p.78]
  • trial 2: odd-numbered states, then even.
  • trial 3: pseudo-random ordering of states.
6accdae13eff7i3l9n4o4qrr4s8t12ux data aequatione quotcunque fluentes quantitates involvente, fluxiones invenire et vice versa

slide 16

Experiment 2

  • trial 1: reverse order [p.78]
  • trial 2: odd-numbered states, then even.
  • trial 3: pseudo-random ordering of states.
6accdae13eff7i3l9n4o4qrr4s8t12ux data aequatione quotcunque fluentes quantitates involvente, fluxiones invenire et vice versa

slide 17

Experiment 2


"Now he was ... dust. To an outside observer, these ten seconds had been grouped up into ten thousand uncorrelated moments and scattered through real time — and in model time, the outside world suffered an equivalent fate. Yet the pattern of his awareness remained perfectly intact: somehow he found himself, 'assembled himself' from these scrambled fragments. He'd been taken apart like a jigsaw puzzle — but his dissection and shuffling were transparent to him. Somehow — on their own terms — the pieces remained connected." [p.80]

slide 18

Experiment 3

"Paul stopped counting, stretched his arms wide, stood up slowly. He wheeled around once, to examine the room, checking that it was still intact, still complete. Then he whispered, 'This is dust. All dust. This room, this moment is scattered across the planet, scattered across five hundred seconds or more — but it still holds itself together. Don't you see what that means?'" [p.133]

slide 19

implications?

"The whole idea of a creator tears itself apart. A universe with conscious beings either finds itself in the dust... or it doesn't. It either makes sense of itself on its own terms, as a self-contained whole ... or not at all. There never can, and never will be, Gods."

[p.338]

slide 20

And yet, and yet... Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are obvious acts of desperation and secret consolation. Our fate (unlike the hell of Swedenborg or the hell of Tibetan mythology) is not frightful because it is unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and ironclad. Time is the thing I am made of. Time is a river that sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that tears me apart, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges.

Friend, this is enough. Should you wish to read more
Go and yourself become the writing, yourself the essence.


And yet, and yet... Negar la sucesión temporal, negar el yo, negar el universo astronómico, son desesperaciones aparentes y consuelos secretos. Nuestro destino (a diferencia del infierno de Swedenborg y del infierno de la mitología tibetana) no es espan toso por irreal; es espantoso porque es irreversible y de hierro. El tiempo es la sustancia de que estoy hecho. El tiempo es un río que me arrebata, pero yo soy el río; es un tigre que me destroza, pero yo soy el tigre; es un fuego que me consume, pero yo soy el fuego. El mundo, desgraciadamente, es real; yo, desgraciadamente, soy Borges.

Freund, es ist auch genug. Im Fall du mehr willst lesen,
So geh und werde selbst die Schrift und selbst das Wesen.

(Angelus Silesius: Cherubinischer Wandersmann, VI, 263. 1675).

Jorge Luis Borges, Nueva Refutación Del Tiempo

the end