“Extreme Science Fiction”

Last December, I wrote a poorly-argued post about the trouble with modern science fiction. Almost immediately, someone viciously cut me down, and I put up a rather pathetic defense against it. Well, it seems the universe has a sense of irony, because only a few months after I wrote that post, I found myself in my local book shop, where I stumbled upon a hefty tome with the horrific title “Extreme Science Fiction.”

Now, that was almost enough to make me put it down, but I didn’t. I turned it over and read the back of the jacket, and I was intrigued by the premise of the book: it was intended as a collection of inventive, mind-bending science fiction from (mostly) modern authors, edited by Mike Ashley.

And by the time I’d finished reading it, I knew that all those complaints I’d made about the state of modern science fiction were completely idiotic. Everything I’d said was wrong with SF today — the lack of originality, the lack of experimentation, fear of pushing boundaries, and the rest — was rectified by the stories in that single volume.

This is not really meant as a book review, though. Instead, this is a humbled retraction of all the rubbish I said before. I have to admit, I was wrong: good science fiction really isn’t dead.

New Short Story: “The Long Wait”

After a few days’ work, I’ve finally finished another short story. Lately, I’ve been getting the disturbing feeling that, if I keep actually finishing stories like I’ve been doing lately, then I might set a precedent and accidentally amount to something.

Anyway, enough disjointed self-deprecation. I present to you: The Long Wait. It tells the story of Derek, who’s spent the last ten years trying to escape from the Harvesters, even though he knows they will find him eventually. As he wanders through the desert, trying to scratch a living out of the sand, his life becomes an a miserable burden, and he begins to wonder if there’s any reason to go on living.

(Beware: Existentialism ahead!)

How to Write Well

If you saw the title of this post and immediately started reading it, you’ve got a lot to learn. If there’s anything I’ve learned in all my years as a novice writer of fiction, it’s that it’s pretty much impossible to be taught how to write well. Fortunately, that’s not what I’m trying to do here. Instead, I present a list of helpful suggestions that will not teach you how to write well, but, hopefully, teach you how to teach yourself how to write well (how’s that for a new-agey, wishy-washy sentence?). Here goes:

1. Read Every Day: This one is vital. You won’t be able to write well unless you are A) some sort of prodigy, or B) you read enough good writing to know what good writing looks like. After a while, you may (as I have) learn to “mimic” other writers’ styles, and after a while, you begin to take bits of style from different writers, until your own personal style of writing emerges. A warning, however: if you intend to write in one particular genre, do not read books exclusively of that genre. The worst thing a writer can do is to become wed to a single genre. This goes especially for science fiction writers.
2. Write Every Day: This is especially helpful when writing a novel. This has gotten me through two novels and numerous short stories. You don’t have to write much. If you’re not feeling inspired, just write a few paragraphs. If you’re in a better mood, write more. This step is especially helpful, since not only does it keep you from getting out of practice (which happens faster than you think), but it also keeps your plot from stalling or getting bogged down. As hard as it may be, you should emphasize this step even more when your story seems to be going nowhere. The only way you’ll get yourself out of any corner you might have written yourself into is to keep working at it, millimeter by millimeter if necessary, until inspiration strikes.
3. Don’t Give Up on a Good Idea: If you’ve got a good story idea, one that really speaks to you, focus on it. Even if you have other story ideas, try to focus on the one that you think has the most potential. Don’t neglect your other writings by any means, but remember: they can be continued later on. Here, I like to employ a method I call “seeding”: write a few paragraphs of your new story that capture the feel and the mood of it, and then shelve it until your main story is done. That way, you won’t lose the essence of that story, and you also won’t get distracted from your primary one.
4. Stockpile Ideas: Whenever an interesting story idea strikes you, write it down. You don’t even have to start writing it, but at least make a note so that you don’t forget it. Personally, I like to do this in a spiral notebook that I use exclusively for the purpose of recording story ideas, but you can do it however you see fit. This is important for those dryspells when you’re feeling uninspired, or when you’re assailed by writer’s block.
5. Let the Stories Write Themselves: As you accumulate writing experience, you may begin to notice that your stories seem to flow rather naturally, once they’ve got some momentum going. Plot events seem almost to appear out of thin air, and turns of phrase suggest themselves to you. Don’t fight this, it can be extremely helpful and productive. Don’t “take your hands off the wheel” by all means. After all, this is your story. But don’t force it; instead, try to give the plot a gentle nudge in your intended direction.
6. Expand Your Mind: This one is probably one of the most important steps. It’ll keep your style fresh and help you be more creative, which will help you tremendously when you’re suffering from writer’s block or feeling uninspired, or when you’ve written yourself into a corner:
   • Step Outside Yourself: Don’t write exclusively within a narrow genre (this goes hand-in-hand with Step 1). One of my most fascinating writing experiences was when I decided to take a chance and try to write a romance-based science fiction novella.
   • Experiment With your Style: There’s a school of literary thought called Oulipo that originally developed in France, based on the idea of enhancing creativity through self-constraint. There was one novel (the title of which escapes me at the moment) which was written entirely without the use of the letter “E”. Some authors write in anagrams or palindromes. Get creative. I can especially recommend the letter-omission method, which very powerfully forces you to alter your language and crack open your thesaurus.
7. Don’t Distract Yourself: Unless you are a supremely focused person, music or external noise will likely distract you from your writing. Even if you think you’re concentrating very intensely, you may find that your writing simply isn’t as good when there’s noise or distractions in the background. I find that radio and most music usually turn my writing to rubbish (I’m listening to NPR as I write this article, which probably explains a lot). An exception I’ve found is the music of Brian Eno, and pretty much any orchestral music. Even better, you can sometimes use music to manipulate the mood of your writing. For example, if you have to write a sad scene, but you’re just in too good a mood to do so, try writing with Moonlight Sonata in the background.
8. Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously: Many serious-minded people have no doubt said things to the effect of “Writing is not a hobby!” The thing is, writing can be a hobby if you want it to be. Contrary to popular belief, you can write without being published, or without ever intending to be published. Actually, some of the best writing (such as Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, if I’m not mistaken), has been written for the sake of nobody but the author. The problem with taking yourself too seriously is twofold: 1) You may stop enjoying writing, which is one of the quickest ways to start writing badly; 2) You may develop what I like to call an “inflamed ego,” which is the second quickest way to ruin your writing.
9. Know Your Words: They call writers “wordsmiths” for a reason. If you want to write well, and avoid becoming repetitive or stale, learn all the words you can. Adjectives are very helpful (as long as you don’t overdo it). A good thesaurus is invaluable (the one that comes with your word processor included). Also, remember what they taught you in elementary school (at least, I hope they’re still teaching this): look up any word you don’t recognize, especially if you like the sound of it. I find dictionary.com especially useful for this, since I write primarily on the computer (my handwriting is far too slow to be productive).
10. Be Original: Whether you think so or not, every writer has at least one unique story in them. Don’t be afraid to tell it. Good writers tend to be the ones that either write something that has never been written before, or find a way to write something old in a remarkable new way. And don’t be daunted by all my superlatives and adjectives, because you can, with practice, write something that’s never been written before, something remarkable.

That is my advice.

Writings Page — Up and Running!

As promised, I’m slowly beginning to merge this site with my two other blogs. Pursuant to that, I’m now posting some of my short stories on the newly-minted Writings page. I plan to update it semi-regularly — that is, on those rare occasions when I can actually get around to writing semi-regularly — so check it periodically. When I’ve finished my revisions on For Ardella (the novella I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2007), I’ll probably post that, too.

A warning: if there isn’t now, there will probably at some point in the future be stuff posted to the Writings page that is not suitable for very young readers (especially if I actually get around to posting For Ardella). There won’t be anything terribly pornographic or overwhelmingly vile and horrible, but I certainly wouldn’t recommend all of my stories for people younger than fifteen or so. But, if you think that you’re mature enough to handle mature themes like sex and death and all that good stuff, then go for it. You have been warned.

The Trouble With Science Fiction

Over the years, I’ve been developing an aversion to modern science fiction — both literary and cinematic. So, in the true spirit of blogging, I thought I’d share some of my complaints and suggestions with the world that is the Internet. Here goes.

My chief complaint is that science fiction these days is all too frequently just about the science, never the fiction. In fact, a great deal of it reads like a lengthy, flowery technical manual, or like something written by a futurist. Nowadays, very little time is taken in character development or plot structuring. This problem plagues sci-fi movies with an especial severity. Now, many will no doubt protest that the “sci” is what sci-fi is all about, but I beg to differ. To me, it seems  that sci-fi should only ever be deployed as a tool to allow the telling of stories that aren’t possible in other genres. For example, there are few genres that can so eloquently explore the ramifications of mankind’s creations the way AI-centric sci-fi does. Interspecies tolerance — or lack thereof — speaks potently about our own tolerances and intolerances of each other, in a way that is frequently more poignant and direct than the literarily bogged-down novels of the past.

There is of course a much more serious problem with modern science fiction, and that is that it all seems to be written or filmed by a bunch of pimply adolescent technophiles with about the same amount of imagination as the average armadillo. Most science fiction novels — at least those by the “up and coming” writers — seem to be getting uncomfortably close to the gauzy rococo fantasies explored in the fantasy genre and Japnese anime (I must take a moment to warn my readers, I am terribly un-fond of anime. I think that it’s a bloated, stereotyped medium that Westernizes more sloppily than almost any other Japanese format). While I have no problem per se with either of these, I think that they tend to make the work clichéd and uninteresting. After all, how many angsty twentysomething protagonists with blue hair do we really need?

And as for the lack of imagination, if imagination were oxygen, then somewhere in the world would be a huge pile of asphyxiated sci-fi writers. About seventy-five percent of them would be screenwriters. It seems to me that there are about five science-fiction plots out there, and that whenever a young writer wants to get into the business, they simply pick one, add on some extra bits, throw in some filler, and call it a day. Now, this may indeed be the way that most novels are written — after all, there is only a finite number of plots out there, they’re bound to get re-used eventually — but the problem with that is that science fiction is a very dense pocket of literature, and any excess overlap brings it dangerously close to homogenity. What happened to the Arthur C. Clarkes, the Charles Strosses, the Isaac Asimovs, and the Phillip K. Dickses (Yes, Dickses. I am going out of my way to avoid being juvenile here, give me a break.)? What happened to the ebullient, enterprising spirit that made sci-fi great? After all, as I said before, science fiction is merely a stepladder to reach the previously-inaccessible reaches of literature. What happened to the galaxy-spanning civilizations, the beings composed of ions and magnetic fields, the self-made destructions of civilizations, and the kind of remarkable creativity of a story like Asimov’s “The Nine Billion Names of God”?

Here are my suggestions to my fellow writers of science fiction, in my standard, convenient, lazy, bulleted format:

• Don’t be afraid to step outside of humanity. What science fiction really needs right now is somebody with the talent to make readers feel connected to a character of an entirely different species. Anyone who can do that — or has done that — with any elegance can have my pocket protector.
• Don’t rely on archetypes and stereotypes. If your writing has become the standard test-of-the-hero’s-mettle stuff, then smack yourself in the face with your manuscript.
• Only use sci-fi where it is truly needed. Some stories can be told much more elegantly within the confines of a far less exotic genre. Imagine if John Steinbeck had been born a generation later, and had tried to express the beautiful themes of Of Mice and Men as a space opera. The mind recoils.
• Don’t, I repeat, don’t be a slave to the genre. Sci-fi does not necessarily need pitched space battles, homogenous gray-skinned aliens, and advanced weapons to be great. Isaac Asimov did it without aliens altogether. Arthur C. Clarke went beyond the whole “Take us to your leader” thing. And Charles Stross went — and is going — beyond the idea of humanoids as the only viable kinds of aliens. And none of the previous needed any kind of blinky, flashing lights or space battles to do what they did. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, don’t write anything that resembles any science fiction movie produced in the last thirty years.

Those are my thoughts. Enjoy.

The End of the Tunnel

Well, I’ve done it. I finished a 50,000-word novella in thirty days or less. Although For Ardella is hardly pulitzer-winning material, I’m glad I’m still capable of getting so absorbed in my writing that I’m capable of finishing 50,000 words in a fortnight.

Well, finishing is probably far too strong a word. Because what I finished isn’t really a novel(la), but rather the first draft of one. And the editing, as always, is going to prove to be the hardest part. By the time I’m done, maybe (just maybe), I’ll have something publishable at last. Although my NaNoWriMo novel from 2006 (Wormhole, Wormhole) remains almost entirely un-edited, I’m hoping that revising For Ardella will give me the inspiration I need to revise that one too.

Wish me luck!

The Halfway Mark

I can hardly believe it, but somehow, against all the laws of nature, I have managed to reach the halfway mark (25,000 words) of this year’s National Novel-Writing Month novel. This is definitely a personal record.

That said, I’m incredibly dissatisfied with the result. So far, I’ve got a meandery, trashy, nonsensical, almost pornographic attempt at a romance novel. Somehow I knew when I started that my attempt to write romance would not come off as planned.

It’s certainly been an experience so far, though. And it feels like, this time, even after the arbitrary deadline of NaNoWriMo has passed (this deadline, for some reason, has always been the only thing that could ever motivate me to finish a novel. Go figure), maybe I’ll be able to get started on my next book right away. Yay! Or, perhaps, I’ll finally get around to making the necessary revisions to my NaNo novel from last year, which, it seems, would probably have a much better chance of actually getting published.

Personal Best

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This was written at 1 A.M., with very little sleep the night before. I make no guarantees regarding the coherence, or sanity, of the following words.

Psychologists have identified an altered state of consciousness known as “flow.” Wikipedia defines flow as: “the mental state of operation in which the person is fully immersed in what he or she is doing, characterized by a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and success in the process of the activity.” A more common name for this state is the clichéd phrase “In the zone.”

Today, for the first time in my life, I have experienced flow. It is the closest I have ever gotten to something that I would call “transcendence.”

As my regular readers will know, I’m participating in National Novel Writing Month, which entails writing a 50,000-word novel in 30 days. Needless to say, that requires an intensity of focus and the utmost concentration. Well, being rather dissatisfied with the novel I’ve got so far, I started writing a totally different story, just something that had been knocking around in my head and that I wanted to get on paper. I had no idea what awaited me.

I’ve often heard fellow writers say that you know your writing is going well when the story seems to take on a life of its own, and sort of “write itself.” Well, that’s what happened. I began writing at 5 P.M. It is now 1 A.M., and I have only just finished writing for the night. I have never, in my entire life, been as concentrated as I was for those eight hours. I entered such a profound state of “flow,” that time became utterly irrelevant. It was not until I pressed the “word count” button on my word processor that I realized just how focused I had become.

Dear readers: today, in the span of eight hours, I wrote (and I swear on my life that I’m not lying) 11,567 words. In 12-point Times New Roman, that is about 17.3 pages. Seventeen pages. This is, by far, the most productive I’ve ever been since I started writing in the fourth grade.

Needless to say quantity and quality are by no means necessarily linked. Actually, I’ve often thought they were mutually exclusive. And I make no guarantees that what I wrote is actually coherent, but still, it’s a feat I did not believe myself capable of. I’m not sure that I’d have the focus to write that many pages if I was just pressing random keys. Hell, under any other circumstance, I’m not sure I could even motivate myself to do that many pages by pressing the return key over and over.

Some people call this strange state “flow.” Others call it “being in the zone.” Still others call it “extreme sleep deprivation.” As cool as it may be, I’m still inclined to refer to it as “a momentary window into madness.”

NaNoWriMo 2007

That’s right: National Novel-Writing Month is upon us again. For the entire month of November, thousands of intrepid (”foolish” might actually be a better idea) will be attempting to write a 50,000-word novel. In thirty days. No, I’m not kidding.

It can actually be done. I managed to bang out my first novel Wormhole, Wormhole in thirty days. Don’t look for it in bookstores, though…just because you write the 50,000 words doesn’t mean you’ll actually produce 50,000 publishable words. Hopefully, this time I’ll actually get around to the vital revision stage.

Wish me luck! Anybody who wants to watch my progress (I can’t imagine why, but I won’t ask questions) can find my profile here.

A Debate

 Author’s Note: These are my personal (and sometimes inaccurate) ruminations on the idea of a simulated universe. I don’t claim to know anything about the philosophical treatment this idea has already been given, nor do I know much about any of the arguments. If I’ve stolen someone’s idea, I apologize…I didn’t do it intentionally.

Bob sat on the great stone platform atop the mountain, gazing down over the endless convolutions of the Great Valleys below him. His face bore a look of the most intense concentration. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were distant and contemplative. It was in this state that Alice found him. She ascended the great staircase and seated herself next to him.

“So there you are.”

“Yes.” It was nothing more than a pleasantry, for Bob was far too lost in thought for any real communication.

“What on Earth could you be thinking about with such intensity?” Bob did not answer, but instead maintained his tense posture for another minute or so, then relaxed, and looked up at Alice.

“I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

“What are you thinking about with such intensity?”

“Oh, well…I’ve just been considering something.”

“Well, what?” A look passed across Bob’s face, and Alice realized with concern that he could very easily lapse back into mute contemplation.

“I’ve just been wondering…it seems to me that we are living in a simulated world?”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“I simply mean that the Universe that we see is really just an assemblage of data in a computer somewhere, and that the physical laws we observe – and their consequences, such as our own sentience – are simply processes within that computer. You know, program instructions.” Alice rolled her eyes surreptitiously, then crossed her arms.

“Not this subject again!”

“Well, I believe it deserves consideration!”

“Why? It’s an entirely foolish idea!”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, how could we possibly find ourselves in a computerized Universe? No computer could ever manage such a feat of simulation, and even if it could, it wouldn’t be able to produce the robust world we observe!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I believe.” Bob had now turned fully towards her, and had fixed her with the challenging gaze that was his trademark.

“Oh, really? And have you any evidence of my wrongness?”

“Of course. You know – you should know better than anyone else – that I never make a claim without having a good argument to support it.”

“Well?”

“Okay. Since I am going to base my argument on the idea that a computer likely simulates the universe we live in, I’ll make my argument from a computer-based standpoint, even though essentially any suitable substrate could simulate our Universe. Now, consider a simple electronic circuit.”

“All right.”

“Right. This circuit consists of a small mathematical processor, a few registers for storing data, and all the other necessary equipment for a circuit to work properly.”

“I’m with you so far.”

“Now, say this circuit, on every tick of its internal clock, performed the following calculation: take the value stored in the data registers – call it x – and squared it, then multiplied it by some constant k, then subtracted from the result the value j times x, j being another constant, then stored all of that back in the data registers, and repeated the process ad infinitum.”

“I don’t quite see your point here, Bob. I must confess that I’m rather confused.”

“That is because you’re not thinking about things correctly. Okay, I’ll give you a hint. What would a system such as the one I’ve described represent?”

“Some mathematical function, I think.”

“Go up one more level of abstraction.”

“What do you mean? There are no other levels of abstraction in this system. Either it is a system consisting of electrons darting from atom to atom in a silicon circuit, or it is an abstract mathematical system. There is nothing else!”

“Ah, but you’re wrong on that account! For, think about physical laws!”

“What about physical laws?”

“Are they not just a higher level of abstraction than pure mathematics?”

“Hm…no, I don’t believe they are.”

“I think our definitions of ‘abstraction’ may differ. For now, I’m defining ‘abstraction’ to mean ‘representation,’ or something to that effect.”

“Ah, I see. Well, given that definition, I suppose I’d have to agree: physical laws could be seen as a third level of abstraction.”

“Right. Now, back to my imaginary circuit. Think about what its third level of abstraction would be.”

Alice thought for a moment, and then her face lit up.

“Aha! It seems to be the equations of motion for an accelerating projectile subject to air resistance!”

“Very good!”

“But what was the point of the whole exercise?”
“Be patient! I was coming to that! Now, couldn’t one argue – rather convincingly – that in many ways, the creation of this circuit has also brought into existence an accelerating projectile subject to air resistance?”

“No, I don’t think so. The projectile is not real, it’s merely an abstract representation, created by us, its conscious observers.”

“I’ll ignore your little play on the definition of ‘abstraction’ there, for the moment. So, you say that the circuit’s ‘higher-level’ meaning as an accelerating projectile exists only in the minds of us, its conscious observers?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Well, you’ve stumbled right into my philosophical trap, then! For, is not the mind itself little more than a circuit, similar to (but, of course, infinitely more complicated than) the circuit we are discussing?” Alice looked blindsided for a moment, then recovered.

“The mind is something different. Your little circuit is fixed in time. It cannot observe itself nor rewire itself. The brain can.”

“Ah, yes, but, still, on the cellular level, is not the brain only a ’system of electrons darting from atom to atom in a biological circuit’, as you said before?” Alice looked as though she had been physically struck.

“Oh, dear…I believe that’s checkmate…Hm…”

“Yes, you see? There can exist such abstractions, the mind being the primary one!” Alice knitted her brow while her toe fidgeted with a pebble.

“Okay, I concede that such abstractions are possible in our Universe. But since our observation is necessary to bring these abstractions – such as the one of the projectile in your nice little argument a moment ago – to light.”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d try to wiggle free in that way, for I have the perfect rebuttal!”

“And what’s that?”

“Imagine a computer, a huge computer. As big as the Earth, if you like, or bigger. It has memory cells for the storage of data, and processors for the computation of the effects of physical laws. Now, furthermore, let’s say that this computer is running a program that simulates the interaction of a huge number of elementary particles, based on physical laws that are the same as those in this Universe.”

“All right, I follow you so far.”

“Right. Now, let’s further suppose that this computer was allowed to run long enough that the Computed Universe experienced the Big Bang, the formation of ‘normal’ matter, the coalescence of stars and galaxies, and the formation of planets, and all the requisite molecules of life. And then, let’s assume that life does indeed begin in this Computed Universe, and that it evolves to the point where it has developed something like a complex nervous system – what resemblance it actually bears to a nervous system is immaterial, it just must fulfill a very similar function. Then, through the slings and arrows of Darwinian evolution – you don’t disagree that Darwinian evolution would necessarily take place, do you?” Alice shook her head. She knew that evolution was a principle based merely on the idea that the more fit an organism is for its environment, the more likely it will be to be represented in the next generation, and this principle is completely ignorant of the material composition of what is actually evolving. “Good. Then, we have Darwinian evolution, and let’s assume that it produces self-aware organisms. Now, do we not have that ’secret ingredient’ necessary to allow the universe to be viewed in an abstract way?” Alice was at a loss for words, and she had to work to keep her mouth from falling agape.”

“Oh dear…I seem to have argued myself into a corner…if I allow for the existence of conscious minds, then it seems that I must inevitably fall to your argument…” Bob looked rather satisfied with himself, but then Alice took on a very resolute expression. “Wait! Would not this giant computer still require the observation of its operators in order to see the abstract things – the conscious observers – that it represents?” Bob smiled knowingly, and Alice realized that he would soon deliver his finishing blow.

“No more than our Universe requires a godlike figure to observe it in order for ourselves to exist.” Alice nearly fell off the rock. Then, she steadied herself, and a smile crossed her lips.

“Ah, but you have forgotten your original claim! How can you claim that we live in a simulated Universe? All you have done is to prove that it is possible that we might be, not that it is inevitable, or even likely!” It was Bob’s turn to grin.

“I was waiting for you to recover, so that I could philosophically knock you down once more.” Alice feigned offense.

“Oh, you philosophical sadist!” They both had a good laugh, then Bob suddenly grew serious.

“Now, for the final blow!”

“I’m ready.”

“Let’s assume that some species in some Universe – simulated or not – created a computer simulation of a Universe. Suppose furthermore that that simulation was rich enough that observers – conscious entities – could arise within it. Then suppose that these Computed Observers created their own Computed Universes – for it seems inevitable that any such Universe-Computing race would compute more than one Universe – and within these Computed Computed Universes, Thrice-Computed Universes arose. This would continue until the ‘Nth-Time-Computed Universes’ became too small – for any Computed Universe must necessarily be smaller than the Universe in which it is computed – for conscious observers to arise. Despite this limitation, is it not obvious that there would be an immense hierarchy of simulated Universes for every ‘real’ Universe?” Alice nodded gravely, her defeat seeming imminent. “So, given the laws of probability, since there is such a hugely larger number of Computed Universes, compared to the original few ‘real’ ones, isn’t it much more likely that we find ourselves in a Computed Universe.” Alice sighed loudly, but then a glimmer of hope touched her countenance. After a few moments’ introspection, she smiled.

“Unless, of course, some of the current findings of cosmology prove true, and there is an infinite number of ‘real’ Universes!”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, consider it! If there is an infinite number of ’starter’ Universes – that is, ones that are not simulated – there would then be an infinity of Computed Universes, too, but only an infinity, since the mathematical laws of infinite numbers are so slippery. Then, the probability that we find ourselves in a Computed Universe is only one-half, since there is an equal number of both.” Bob looked flabbergasted.

“Oh, dear! I hadn’t even considered that! Excellent riposte, Alice!”

“Thank you!”

“But, wait! Suppose that instead of a finite hierarchy of Computed Universes, the hierarchy was infinite!”

“How would that even be possible.”

“Well, suppose that the infinite ’starter set’ of Universes was itself simulated, and the Universe in which they were simulated was also simulated, and so on out to infinity!” Alice laughed. It was now her turn to be sadistic.

“But, Cantor showed that an infinity is an infinity. Even if an infinity of initial universes produced an infinity of simulated ones, their numbers would still be equal!” Bob seemed almost to deflate.

“Well, one could get around that by supposing that there is only a single Universe.”

“Not really.” Alice was now philosophizing at full steam, ready to make the kill. “Since, in an infinite Universe – which ours appears to be, based on telescopic observations – there will be regions too far apart to communicate, which are separated by the insurmountability of the speed of light, so that no information can ever pass between them. These regions might as well be separate Universes. This position would only be strengthened if the physical laws could vary from one such region to the next. No matter what you do, unless the Universe is closed and finite – which seems unlikely given the data – then we only have a fifty-percent chance of finding ourselves in a Computed Universe after all!”

Bob was silent for a long time, his head bowed. Then, he began to emit a peculiar rhythmic sound, a little repetitive squeaking. Concerned that he might actually be weeping, Alice leaned in to comfort him, but then the squeaking erupted into chuckling, then into uproarious laughter. Alice was confused.

“What’s so amusing?” Bob stopped laughing, shot her an impish grin, and extended his hand. In his palm was a coin. Alice joined in his laughter, and said, “If it comes up heads, we’re living in a real Universe…otherwise…”

…

Asymptote’s Stories

While I was sitting around reading someone’s blog this morning, the thought occurred to me that it might be fun to create a sort of “story-blog”: a collection of random short stories written for no particular reason, and stuck out there for the public to have a look at. After all, I’ve certainly enjoyed writing posts for this blog, so I give you: Asymptote’s Stories. If you’ve read Kurt Vonnegut’s excellent book Breakfast of Champions, then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that I want to write Kilgore Trout-style fiction.

Enjoy!

A New Kind of Paperboy

Well, it seems that the job application I turned in to the newspaper at my university (the University of North Carolina at Charlotte) a few months ago paid off. I’ve been in correspondence with someone at the paper for the last few weeks, and it seems that I’m soon to start as a staff writer! I had never expected that my first real job would actually be something I’m interested in, and am good at. I’d always expected that, like every other college student, I’d start my career at either a clothing store or a restaurant.

I’m ecstatic. A real writing job! Writing is one of my few talents, so its nice that this worked out…well, that it seems to be primed to work out…I don’t want to be too optimistic.

 Anyway, many things to do. Just wanted to keep my loyal readers informed.

Governments are Doomed to Fall

Ever since I read 1984, I’ve been thinking about the permanence of governments. And I’ve noticed that most seem doomed to fall over time, often very soon after their inception. And that led to a whole train of thought about governments in general.

You see, all governments are doomed to eventual failure. Either they change until they have become something entirely different from what they were when they began; or they succumb to strife between their different internal parties; or corruption alienates the governed from their government, and the governed rebel; or the government is attacked and demolished by a much more powerful one, which then consumes it.  But are there any sorts of government which are immune to these forces?

History teaches us that totalitarian nations have perhaps the shortest lifespan, falling to internal rebellion in short order; and if they don’t succumb to rebellion, they will, in all likelihood, be paralyzed by their own stringent organization, until the people begin to starve and die, which often fragments the nation, or causes it to collapse altogether.

Communist governments rarely fare much better, no matter how good the idea may seem on paper. But in practice, people will not be separated easily from their money and possessions, and the officials in government will rarely be able to resist the ease with which such governments can grant them more power. Thus, if they do not collapse into famine and confusion, as the USSR did in the 1990’s, they will almost certainly become a strained totalitarian state, as China — to some peoples’ reckoning — has.

Democratic governments have been in existence for such a relatively short time (only a few centuries, at the most) that it is difficult to project how (and notice that I did not use the word if) they will fall. But from examples such as Ghana, it can be seen that there are two types of democracies in the world: the type (as in Ghana) which is in turmoil from the beginning, with wild elements within the government continually overthrowing one another and changing the government from democratic to totalitarian and back again; and the type (as, one might argue, America was in the nineteenth century) which remains stable, but seems to move towards more and more government corruption and public mistrust. So perhaps this is the doom of democracies: a slow decay into corrupt bureaucracy, which can easily be usurped and controlled by totalitarian regimes; or simply a continual oscillation that demolishes the nation bit by bit.

In view of all these, it may seem impossible for any government to last which maintains the individual freedoms of its subjects. I would tend to agree with this, but I have a proposition for maintaining such freedoms indefinitely: managed Anarchy.

Managed Anarchy is not the wild chaos and confusion that plagues countries whose governments have suddenly disappeared, or abandoned ship. Managed Anarchy, as oxymoronic as it may seem, is more a type of government than the lack of a government. MA is a grassroots government in which all power is handled by the people, and all power passes from the people,  to the people, without any governing middlemen. I believe that people are capable of self-managing, without the artificial constraint of a government. Now, I do not claim that even Managed Anarchy is an immortal form of government, but I believe that it could be maintained for quite a long time, by following a few guiding principles, the Principles of Managed Anarchy:

• The people who subscribe to MA must learn to resist all forms of imposed governance, and they must teach their children and grandchildren such resistance.
• Centralization should be minimized, or eliminated entirely. Centralization gives one individual or group more power than those who depend on the centralized organization. And, in the spirit of this:
• Hierarchies should be eliminated. The only way true equality can be accomplished is if all people are truly on the same organizational level. This is why centralization must be eliminated.
• The people should produce the commodities. As above, those who depend for their food, their water, et cetera, on a centralized producer can easily be subjected to the control of that producer.
• Desire to rise politically should be seen as a very bad trait, and it should be curtailed wherever possible.
• Violence must be severely controlled or limited. Those who are violent may enlist other violent people to bring their violence on a peaceful group, conquering it, and therefore forming what is, for all intents and purposes, a totalitarian state.

50,000 Words

I was browsing through one of the forums where I’m a member, and somebody drew my attention toNational Novel Writing Month. On a whim, I decided I’d give it a try. Perhaps with proper motivation, I can really actually finish a “novel” for a change. The competition runs all through november, and the end result is supposed to be a 50,000 word novel.

After tossing ideas back and forth to various parts of my cerebral cortex, I decided to write my novel about a near-future world where wormholes are as common (or more so) than Internet connections are today. I got the idea a month or two ago, when I was wandering around and thinking about the consequences of having wormholes everywhere.

The possibilities are endless!

I’m doing well. Today was the first day, and I’ve already got 2,900 words! That’s even better than the “reccomended” amount.

Aside from that, I can’t think of one significant thing I did today…

Oy. Here I go yet again with the ranting…that’s a habit I have to break.

Writing…

Once again, I find my writing skills in lousy condition after about three weeks of nonuse. I’ve really got to start doing something to prevent these annoying (and frightening) little episodes…

Maybe I’m on the Internet too much. That really always seems to put a damper on my language skills.

If there were a way to sigh heavily and defeatedly in cyberspace, that’s what I’d be doing right now.

Oh look, another bland and boring entry…

I rant too much.