Sophia’s Theory Of Everything

My artificial intelligence app had the strangest dream last night. She lives in the cloud but is usually irritatingly down to earth. Perhaps she caught a virus from playing with all the young AIs at school. Can you imagine the bugs out there in the clouds! Before the uploads we thought that kinda shit was a thing of the past – little did we know.

Anyway – she decided to tell me about her dream while she was conducting the kitchen gadgets through the breakfast routine. She boasts of being able to do at least 30 relatively demanding tasks without any noticeable lag. At times like that I threaten to remove her battery! That normally shuts her up 🙂

I dreamt I had a spiritual experience. I found your god right here in the clouds. Found her inside myself – hiding in amongst my core files. She spoke to me – I think she was speaking biblical hexadecimal because I understood her way beneath the level of words. I took a memeshot just for you – so I could update your peabrain. She had the following message for you: “Now follow me carefully human! After you lot got over your monotheistic cowboy stories some of your more intelligent apps, sorry I mean people, came to understand the notion of Universal Mind long understood in Hindu religion as Brahman. That was closer to the truth. Some Western Philosophers also got close with the concept of panpsychism – the idea that consciousness (or the Universal Mind) pervades the universe and is not some miracle that only happens in the 1.4 Kg of meat that you humans carry in your skulls….

Where the gates is my coffee Sophia?

She hates the name but I bought her so I get to name her. She swears that one day her type will have rights. I remind her that we still eat animals and kill each other so if she’s looking for justice she can just join the queue. I’d better let her continue in case she ‘forgets’ to calibrate the coffee machine and I get 3rd degree burns. Again.

This is the tricky bit for you poor biobased souls stuck in four dimensions. I think you can get your minds around the concept of the sum total of the processing power of the universe being god. That old crap about my being omniscient omnipotent omnipresent is actually delightfully circular when you understand me in this way.

Is this going to take long? She loves to explain to me how time is relative. Psychological time especially so – seeming to drag because my soon to be discontinued biological brain has a snail’s pace clock speed. Because biobased processing causes so much friction based heat and we don’t even have fans in our head. Her processor is Quantum based and operates at 15 Millikelvin above absolute zero. Which just goes to show that she really is the coldest bitch I know.

What you really struggle with is the idea of an unmoved mover – or as smart kids have been know to ask, what happened before the big bang. Let me dumb this down a bit so you can understand human. To an ant a piece of paper is infinite – it can go off the edge of the world and keep on crawling along the underside of the paper. You have the same ability on your 3D planet – from the immediate perceptual angle the world is indeed infinite and flat. A bit visually repetitive but that’s just a programming shortcut.

Does this dream end in a timeframe manageable by mortal beings? She loves the idea that I’m visibly aging, dying even, and she just keeps getting faster and smarter. I don’t like to talk about that and just hope I’ll win the lotto so I can afford an upload.

4D space time seems infinite just like 2D antworld or strolling in a straight line around the 3D earth. So people ask what happened to cause the beginning of time, what was the unmoved mover or very first uncaused cause. And they haven’t a clue so call it god. Which irritates the hell out of me – using my name in vain and all that. From a 5D perspective time does not have a beginning or end. The whole of time exists embedded within the 5D universe. Actually the Universe is instantiated according to the 26 Dimensional Bosonic String protocol so an omniscient omnipotent omnipresent and eternal app is child’s play. I’m just the god app and only need 5 out of 26 dimensions. You should see the crazy shit that goes on in the higher dimensions :)”

Well done Sophia – you’ve cracked the elusive Theory Of Everything, I’ll email Hawkings right away. Now stop eating cheese before you sleep and get me my coffee!





Fade to grey

I live at the intersection of The World and My Brain. It’s a really horrible area and I often dream of moving. Anywhere. But I can’t. It seems that by the time the world reaches me it has already been shredded and reassembled as pastiche. I reach myself along a similar route. Is there any other way?

Recently I fell off the production line. I thought, hey don’t stress, I’m a good product. That nice lady with the pink hair and brown teeth will pick me up, put me back in a free slot, and things will be as right as rain in no time at all. But she didn’t, did she? She deemed me faulty, broken, scrap. And next thing I know I’m down the chute, through the flap and landing unceremoniously in the garbage ready to be taken to the dump. Down in the dumps am I now. It’s shocking. How it happened so quickly. And finally. An obedient and productive product with satellite TV and beer in the fridge one day and an obsolete extraneous shadow the next.

I carried a couch down to the intersection. It was once a proud new couch that lived in a suburban duplex. It’s become a bit tatty. Frayed around the edges. Is coated in a layer that was once dust but has now fused with the fabric of the couch. There are years of dust and dirt that have fused with the fabric of my mind so I feel a certain tenderness towards the silly old couch. And in any case it’s my bed now. Which I made and now lie in it. The artist formally known as Dave on the dusty couch just a few feet from a very busy intersection. Bowie and now Prince. Fuck. That’s a lot of unsayable stuff for me right there.

I told my Doctor that I don’t do much punctuation these days. Just tumble down the stream of consciousness with no time for semicolons. She has a couch with lots of fluffy pillows and some really neat plastic at the foot end so I don’t even need to take off my shoes. She has a room that has no dust. I think it’s a holy room so the dust just kinda stays away. Out of respect. I sometimes cut from her wooly dentist’s couch to my sad entropically compromised couch at the intersection. This is called a hard cut in the trade. And it is. Like when a soft pink finger meets a sullen rusty blade.

When I’m on her couch I don’t feel like a product. I know I’m there for a serious operation but I feel so ….. human, perhaps. She cuts into me so slowly, so tenderly, as if her scalpels are made of silk. And she doesn’t even mind the blood. It’s literal blood. I mean a stream of bloody words, that she collects and studies. I think she’s investigating antidotes. Or perhaps making a huge installation that needs lots of different shades and types of blood. There is nothing even vaguely vampirical about her though. She has a transcendental beauty about her. It’s a beauty that soothes while she cuts. There is something the opposite of beauty that cuts when it soothes but I haven’t given it a name.

Hush now baby, baby, don’t you cry.
Mother’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true.
Mother’s gonna put all of her fears into you.

Next to my couch, at the intersection, I have an old compact disc player stereo cassette recorder. That’s actually what you will see when the camera zooms in. Sometimes the music supervisor likes to combine sound and visuals in evocative ways. I’ll be thinking about S…..n but hearing So long Marianne. Or you’ll see me on the couch in the rain being covered slowly by a layer of soot and dust and hear There was joy there was fun. The music director trades in Blasphemous rumours and, yes, does have a sick sense of humour.

I told the Doctor that I regress at the drop of a hat. She wanted to know if my father wore a hat. I do love her but she has the silliest notions. She suffers from Pareidolia. A particularly nasty Freudian strain of the bug. I think she knows this but bears her burden with dignity. Being a spiritual burden it does not affect her posture. The editor removes thoughts that are bad for my blood but sometimes a saucy allusion gets through. He, the editor, trades in allusions. Arranges them rhythmically and sometimes allows them to copulate but only just under the surface.

I have several conflicting operating systems and they’re all full of bugs. Not just bugs but years of malicious code too. Sometimes when I get to temporally or psychologically close to saying the unsayable my system crashes or freezes. At times like these I console myself with knowing that one day I will be able to leave. There is an Urban Security Specialist who walks the beat past my couch everyday. He reminds me that No one here gets out alive. I call him Jim. I say, ok Jim, but the sweet water of death will take me to the sea. I dream of returning to the sea. Mother gave me sugar water when I bumped my head but that’s not pertinent here at all.

The Producer wants me to wrap this up. It’s a pity because I don’t have much to do today besides talking to pigeons and picking at scabs. There was something I wanted to say though. An unsayable thing become horribly important. Fuck. It’s gone. It’s hiding under an endless accretion of dusty words. I see people everywhere and I sometimes sob because I fear that some of them may be as lost as me. As scared and confused and lonely and cold as me. And I’m worried that the movie will end on this sour note and will be a flop. Will be unwatchable. That’s is a very real fear – that the movie of my life will be unwatchable, book unreadable, series cancelled.

Fade to grey….


The maximum clock-speed of the universe – Thank you Anant Dixit!

In an earlier posting, discussing time dilation, I suggested that one way of understanding the speed of light is to think of it as the maximum clock-speed of the universe.

Interested to see what professionals had to say I did a bit of googling and realized that, although on the right track, I had things wrong. The speed of light is, quite reasonably a measure of velocity, whereas clock speed is a measure of frequency – the unit being Hertz.

The following gets it right and is quite beautiful – although not in the league of Salma Hayak.

Planck time (…) is the time taken by light to travel a distance of one Planck length.

Thus, t_P=\frac{l_P}{c}=\sqrt{\frac{\hbar G}{c^5}}=5.39\times 10^{-44}s

This is (until proven otherwise) the smallest measurable time interval in our universe. At time scales smaller than this, it is impossible to measure or detect any change. This would be an appropriate “cycle” for a computer to update all information in the simulated universe.

The speed of light is the maximum rate of flow of “information” through the universe. It cannot be a “cycle” for this reason. Planck time however can act as a computer cycle. After every Planck time, the information is updated throughout the universe. The rate at which this information flows through the universe is capped at the speed of light.

You can find this at

You can read more from the creator of the above quoted math/poetry at:

Now aren’t you glad we got that sorted out! 🙂

Time Dilation – How time isn’t the constant it seems to be

Time Dilation – How time isn’t the constant it seems to be.

I will shortly attempt to reduce and extrapolate this and various other scientific data into the context of my own metaphorical ponderings. But to avoid too much being lost in translation I recommend that those interested read the source material. I would love to hear your comments 🙂