Friday, 5 November 2010

Thought for the day

There are more moves in chess than there are atoms in the universe. And yet we pretend machines cannot think. We pretend they 'try all the moves'. How fragile the ego. The 'dignity of humanity' that Kasparov endearingly failed to 'restore' (a man who can beat 50 players simultaneously blindfold) was never lost. The child catching a ball plays better than any machine, though he is machinery of course. The surprise at the autist savant highlights the evolutionary tuning. Few other than new parents for a moment, are impressed by walking. The majestic inflorescence of the deltaic outflow of plus and minus binary multiplied, and little else, astounds those tuned to tribal-level surprise. So machines can think but can they mind? Of course we do. Are you as clever as your mobile phone? yes and no, but not yes for long. Fermi had no paradox.

Immortality is coming by exaption in the next few decades. If we don't want it, that is irrelevant. The limbless want limbs, the Alzheimers' want brains, the code is long but simple. With centuries you could read it - but other machines do that. Understanding is different, but hardly necessary. Long before, virtual reality will be all-consumed. If you say you wouldn't like a virtual world, you haven't noticed where you live. Perhaps you see microwaves. Perhaps you feel you are molecules. You don't because of where you live.

Travel in bodies is anachronistic. Your hands can't feel. The desire to travel thus is strongest in those who don't know where they are.

Can the maker of optical illusions 'not-see' them? The magic is always real. Extrapolate to all perception. To know how the magic works is to know how to work the magic. We can, at the level of Self, where we all exist, and where trivial illusions like pain and God and consciousness are perfectly real, engineer reality.


  1. I just started reading Godel, Escher, Bach.
    Synchronicities are beginning to make sense.
    My loops are are looking at my loops and mirroring them.

  2. After a long journey we come back to discovering our bodies are indeed our very selves. The oxytocin from the nursing cuddle underwrites our empathy for others. Hands that can't feel, disowned bodies, may leave us behind.

    Now feelier hands, more sensual bodies able to bathe in the waterfall of cosmic radiation, tasting its flavours, thats more me.

    Why would we not, now even more deliciously rooted, have the confidence to engineer away that sad need for closure by banishing the pathetic end stop to thinking, the universal but empty explanation that is "God"?