Transhuman Singularity

VR Prototype    by Michael Blade

Jason Chen bent over in his subway seat to pick up a rarely seen plastic penny he spotted face-up on the train floor.    A penny existed today only to make exact change for those who still stubbornly used physical money.    He didn’t understand why, but somehow its continued existence was comforting for some.    Angling the lucky coin in his fingers to see the three-dimensional head of Abraham Lincoln, he noted the year on the coin was 2053, the year of his birth.

Getting off the subway he went through the biometric sensors, climbing the escalating stairs to street level.    It was raining heavily outside and he had no umbrella.    He grabbed the first hydrogen-electric cross city bus that came, getting off at the corner of Turk and Larkin.

Shivering as he swiped his long wet neon green bangs aside.    He eyed his destination, The Palace of Technological Junk, half a block away in the San Francisco downpour of brisk rain and wind.    Running to the doorway of the store, he realizing he wouldn’t be out here in real weather, if it weren’t for the fact his present VR gear totally sucked.

Stopping inside the sheltering entrance he looked at the items on display.    Beat up ancient historical technology filled the grimy windows; a wearable-mouse, weird looking xPad, Smelly-phone, obsolete gaming consoles, household robot attachments, and a Vexorg with the complete set of shrink-wrapped male and female erotic adapters, still in the original box.    There was a small sign that said, “Need Nanotek?”, and a sticker on the window, “We Accept Real Cash Here.”

The Vexorg was the first virtual reality sex unit; giving multi-sex partners an orgasmic experience over the Internet.    “Better and safer than the real thing” was the company slogan stamped in large hot pink letters on the box.    That was of course before they lost the lawsuit for psycho-technological sex addiction.

An old reflective glass sliding door whisked open and Jason quickly entered, warm dry air hitting him in the face.    Classical Bach began to play through crackled speakers above a male voice said, “Welcome Mr. Chen to the Palace of Technological Junk.    My name is Junkman, your store AI.    What can I do for you today?”    Recognizing his micro GPS Id chip; implanted in all newborns by an international law, passed only a few years before he was born.

Instead of answering, Jason walked confidently forward; the second door slid open revealing a geek’s paradise of technological gadgetry.    “May I interest you in our store specials?” asked Junkman, trying a different approach.

Distracted by the sight of gadgetry, Jason almost forgot how much he really disliked store AIs. “Customer over-ride, execute rubber-plant-theta-five.    Modify vocal selection chipmunks.    Interrupt only upon request.”

“As you wish Mr. Chen,” was the AI response in a squeaky high-pitched chipmunk voice, “but feel free to request my assistance.”    Jason chuckled to himself, it sounded like the voice synthesizer had inhaled a hit of helium, knowing the voice would reset itself for the next customer.    Almost everyone hated that shoppers had to put up with AI sales personalities in every real store these days, except the expensive ones where humans worked for high wages.

He was looking for salvaged virtual reality gear; a hot VR metaworld gamer told him he might be able to find what he need at “The Tech Palace” for a good price.

Walking around the store, Jason noticed the place was a nightmare, a total mess.    Everything was on metal shelving rising to a high ceiling and literally filled with every gadget, gear or component imaginable.    Wires, connectors, circuit boards, tubing, black boxes, white boxes, consoles, remotes, stacked on each other, VR helmets, gloves, eye wear, body suits, devices both wireless and wired of all sizes and shapes, specialized tools and strange looking test equipment.

Everything was packed in so tight with no wasted space.    Some of it was even hanging down from the shelves.    There were walkways large enough for humans to squeeze through, but they were arranged in twisted and turning maze like fashion.    The store itself was not that large, but held as many items as a store twice its size.

This was obviously the work of some crazed machine intelligence.    No human mind could have organized this place.    Jason had no idea what some of this shit even did, or how to begin to find what he needed?    He was going to have to talk to this store AI.

“Junkman!” he yelled with authority.

“What are you looking for?” Junkman asked in a high-pitched chipmunk voice, directly to the point.

Now annoyed by the squeaky voice, Jason restored it to the original setting.    “Programmable visual contacts, auditory and tactile sensor interfaces with hyper-parallel feedback capability, wireless linkups, ultra-light weight and unrestricted mobility. Salvage is an option, low price is a priority.”

“The only thing I have that comes close is a VR prototype unit we bought from a bankrupt research firm.    I can sell it to you cheap. Interested?” Replied the store AI.

“Any other options?” he inquired.

“No other products meet specifications on planet.    There is a non-functioning unit on Luna, needs some repair work.    Intra-solar system shipping costs would be high, but delivery could be arranged in five days.”

“No. Show me the prototype.”    Jason was startled by a slim yellow service robot, which activated itself, coming out of a nearby alcove filled with cleaning supplies, making whizzing-clicking sounds.    The robot had a multi-directional telescoping eye stock for a head, obviously not designed for human interfacing.    Moving quickly it disappeared around a corner into the maze of parts and shelving.

The robot returned carrying a single item in each of its manipulator arms.    In one was a stretchable translucent plastic skullcap, which looked very similar to a swimmers cap.    Jason reached out and took it from the robot’s arm.    It was lightweight and he could see an external circuit film on the outside.    The inside of the VRcap was lined with a grid of room temperature super-conducting nanofibers.    Jason pulled it over his head, fitting perfectly.

He looked for goggles or contacts, earpieces and body suit in the remaining arm of the robot, but found none, only something that looked like a medical syringe.    “You forgot the viewer, audio buds and body wear,” Jason said.

“It is not needed with this unit. You can access HDVR without a full helmet and sensor suit.    This prototype is very advanced, interfacing directly with your brain’s visual, audio, and sensory cortex; stimulating and reading electrical signals from your neurons by embedded nanobots.    The VRcap is only needed for the initial calibration via hyper-nanogrid.    Requiring an injection of nanoprobes into your blood stream,” informed Junkman.

Jason looked again at the syringe in the robot manipulator.    “I understand.    But how come I’ve never seen or heard of anything this advanced before?    Doesn’t this usually require a medical appointment?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“It’s a research prototype, one of a kind; never went to commercial production.    The company folded and the project was shelved.    Everything was eventually sold for surplus after the founder died,” explained Junkman.

“What company made this?” He asked the AI.

“The Vexorg Corporation; their advanced virtual reality research division shut down when the company lost the famous sex tech trial.    They were light years ahead of the competition when they went out of business.”

“This isn’t going to give me some kind of viral pervAD, is it?” Jason asked, seriously concerned.

“No.    Advertisement routines were never developed for this prototype,” assured Junkman.

“Well okay.    How do I activate it?” asked Jason impatiently.

“First it has to be calibrated to your brain.    What little instructions I have say that you put the skullcap on, take the injection, and go to sleep.    This unit will scan various sensory and motor centers within your brain, adjust the positions of the nanoprobes, and customize itself for your use only.    In the morning it will activate itself automatically.    At that time a built-in user instruction menu will be available.    You can then discard the skullcap.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” asked Jason.

“Our guarantee is that all non-functional merchandise is fully refundable.    The nanobots can be easily flushed from your body through your waste elimination systems on command,” replied Junkman.

“How much?” ask a worried Jason, thinking it might be beyond his financial means.

“For you my young friend, a special low price of 7,652 Credits,” said Junkman.

“7000, and you can charge my account,” said Jason, knowing this would make him short on credit for a while, but if it worked, it would be well worth it, making him an unbeatable VR Gamemaster.    He could recoup his costs, leaving the store with the VRcap still on his wet head of hair, syringe in hand, going home for an afternoon nap.

In his cramped studio apartment, he got undressed, took a shower, toweled off, and lay back in bed.    He read the only instructions provided in small font on the syringe,    1. Place Cranial Interface Cap on Head.    2. Press Syringe Firmly Against Carotid Artery.    3. Inject Contents.    4. Sleep.

He heard a hiss and felt a mild sting as he pressed the button on the needless syringe against his neck.    For a moment nothing happened and he worried he might have been ripped off, or even worse, poisoned.    Then suddenly feeling dizzy and sleepy at the same time, but before worrying too much further, he quickly lost consciousness.

Jason stretched and rubbed his face.    Looking around his sloppy bedroom, he noticed a sliver of light peeking through his window curtains cutting across his bare naked body.    Individual dust particles could be seen floating in the sharply defined light.    Then he remembered the VRcap.    He reached up and pulled it off, throwing it aside.

Something was wrong.    It was late morning.    He remembered falling asleep in the afternoon, maybe around four after coming home from that tech junk shop.

He looked at the clock.    It was 10:45 am!    How could this be?    He must have slept for nearly 18 hours.    He never slept this much in his life, not even when he was sick, which was almost never, unless he wanted an excuse to cut class.    Then he realized it must be the cap.    It had somehow extended his sleep cycle so it could complete the brain scan and calibration as Junkman had explained.

Jason was excited.    He wanted to test out the nanoconnections, but he still didn’t know how to activate it.    Just as he completed that single thought; glowing green letters scrolled across his field of vision, answering his question…

Virtual Reality Human Brain Interface Prototype DX-28, Revision 3.5.1.    Registered Property of Vexorg Advanced Research Division.

Unit Status:
> Test subject initial brain scan and calibration procedure complete duration time 17 hrs.
> Interface normal and operational. COMMAND MODE ACTIVATED

View Operational MENU? (Yes/No)

Dr. Xanoplatu, an alien anthropologist, historian, and time traveler, materialized on stage wearing the body of his ancestors, a giant green Praying Mantis with large yellow eyes and small black pupils.    He was speaking at a galactic cultural lecture, inside a de-localized spherical space station, somewhere and some when in a multi-versed space-time reality.

To a far less technologically evolved civilization, the space station was a true paradox of causality; for each of the alien species presently within is walls could not have possibly existed in the same time branch.    Many were now extinct and others had yet to evolve, or never would in the frothy quantum foam of this bubble universe.    However, the meta-verse itself happily entertained all possibilities, those that influenced everything, nothing, and the in between.

To maintain its complex and paradoxical nature of existence, the space station required tremendous amounts of power harnessed from an artificially produced singularity, a black hole.

The doctor looked around with hyper-view eyes and launched into his-her presentation with no introduction, which was generally customary of this insect species.

Galactic Civilizations take time to form and Alien Civilizations come and go.    Some star systems, although more rare, foster the evolution of more than one intelligent species with more than one planet in the habitable zone.    The technology of alien races varies greatly, but generally goes through a range of three basic types.

Dr. Xanoplatu’s clicking language was seamlessly translated into each of the different languages of the various species attending.    The audience was an attentive assortment of Type 2 beings, each having arrived at the seminar via starship and intergalactic wormhole transportation network.    As the doctor continued giving his-her lecture, in the space nearby an image materialized showing a rotating 3D Milky Way galaxy in early formation.    The image was also transmitted into the minds of other beings without eyes and notated in the infrared and x-ray spectrum.

However, most civilizations tend to advance with each milestone; invention of language, use of tools, agriculture, architecture, industry, computers, rockets, self-directed genetic modification, nanoconstruction, virtual reality, and so on.    Each technological revolution leading to the next, building upon the foundations of the previous one.

At this point the galaxy began showing data markers for pre-spaceflight intelligent life.    A time bar scale displayed indicating the passage of billions of years ticking away as the galaxy evolved and quickly rotated.

After about 3 billion years most of the markers representing alien civilizations appeared, scattered throughout the galaxy, they briefly pulsed, and then sadly vanished, becoming extinct.    Another image appeared nearby and began to cycle through alien language symbols, stone and metal tools, and then building structures of all kinds.    The doctor continued with no interruption.

Near-type 1 beings usually have intra-solar travel between nearby planets or moons, have constructed space habitats, and may even be attempting interstellar travel to a nearby star.    A technological singularity is sometimes reached near this time, which is a convergence of technologies leading to a point beyond which there is maximum change and advancement is so rapid it becomes unpredictable.

Unfortunately, as you are aware, this time is a very dangerous one for a young species. Many civilizations become highly unstable, self-destructing under the pressures of the constantly accelerating technological progress, most times resulting in their extinction.

The cycling images began to change into spacecraft of all types and shapes.    Then space habitats and colonies, followed by space weaponry. Violent images of space warfare soon followed.    Almost half of the remaining markers began to flash and winked out.

The images changed to those of dead worlds, and finally the bones or shells of strange aliens.    There were some murmurs from the audience and a definite roar from one of the Dinosaur like species, but Dr. Xanoplatu continued.    He-she had provided time for a questions and answer section following the lecture.    The doctor paused a moment for the effect, taking a sip from a refreshing water bulb hanging from his-her neck.

Finally, in order to survive an approaching singularity and remove their aggressive and self-destructively evolved behaviors, some alien species enter a transitional phase, an extensive program of self-initiated genetic re-engineering and technolgical integration.

Alien bodies were shown, Apes, Reptiles, Birds, creatures indescribable, all morphing, becoming more graceful or complicated, heads larger, eyes larger, and sometimes becoming part or whole machines.    Very precious few markers on the galaxy remained.    Images of aliens, many with artificial technological enhancements or overly large brain cases were shown, some of them representative of actual species in the room.

All parties who could breathe an oxygen atmosphere and tolerate the room temperature had representatives present in original species form.    The remaining wore space suits.    Strong force fields were erected to prevent the potential spreading of cross-alien diseases and for conference security reasons.

Finishing out the remainder of his-her lecture, Dr. Xanoplatu indicated the presentation was over, and he-she would now entertain questions.

The first question was from the dinosaur species.    He was larger than most of the others, except for the atmospheric whale.    Some of the species in the auditorium were represented by holographic telepresence, physically one-twentieth their actual size.    Conversely, the smaller insect intelligence and the sentient bacterial colonies were represented by scaled-up holographic avatars broadcast from their parked starships.    There were a few Artificials, software robotic intelligence's and nanolife forms, which had replaced or succeeded their original biological progenitors.

“What is inhibiting the formation of galactic civilizations?” Asked the dinosaur from the Procyon A system.

“Imagine a pond, a very big pond, one the size of the galaxy in fact.    Now throw a pebble into that pond, and you notice waves forming, moving outwards from where the pebble impacted the water.    Now let’s suppose the waves are traveling at the speed of light, so that if you threw a pebble into the middle of the pond, it would still take a while for the waves to travel to the shores of the pond.    Now, if the waves where actually communication signals, and you threw a hundred pebbles into the pond at once, but dispersed them randomly across the pond, what do you think would happen?” Asked Dr. Xanoplatu.

“The waves would eventually cross each other, and every pebble’s waves would eventually meet each other to varying degrees of strength”, answered the dinosaur.

“Great, so every alien race, represented by a pebble tossed into the galactic pond, would eventually be able to communicate with every other”, stated Dr. Xanoplatu.

“That’s assuming they tossed pebbles into the pond at nearly the same time,” explained the dinosaur.

“Yes, now you are beginning to see.    If say, one of the aliens tossed pebbles into the pond yesterday, or maybe even a million years ago, or millions from now, and you tossed yours in today, those waves would never really cross each other.    Communications would never occur, because you never took into consideration the dimension of time.” Junkman’s voice seemed satisfied with itself.

“Timing and Civilization Longevity, the formulation of a common galactic empire requires that multiple alien species exist concurrently at the same time to achieve a lasting galactic interchange.    Most species go extinct too soon, some maybe in less than a million years after achieving a rudimentary civilization.    They don’t live long enough to meet other species and formulate organized long-lived galactic civilizations.    We are attempting that now, but trace archaeological evidence suggests it has been tried may times and failed within the last 3 billion years.”

“We originally felt that alien species should be able to stabilize themselves, without our interference or intervention,” stated Dr. Xanoplatu.  &nbsp “We didn't want to become co-dependents for every adolescent alien race to come along.”

“Why not use our time travel vortex to visit the species, and make our presence known before the extinction singularity actually occurs?    That way we could avert their course through evidence of our own presence, becoming a sort of social psychiatrist,” asked the hive bacterial mind.

Dr. Xanoplatu thought for a moment before replying, “We have tried this approach in the past.    It did not always meet with positive success, the target species self-destructed even more quickly than the original time path predicted, sometimes taking our own with them.    Our analysis is inconclusive as to exactly why.    No, we must let events take their natural course.    It is safer to only directly intervene after the extinction singularity has occurred, then salvage what we can.”

“What about just letting them know we exist, broadcasting a signal with a sort of helpful survival guide?    Self-evolve stupid beings, mature or perish,” hissed the snake-like creature from Gliese 876.

“We have considered this, but analysis shows we could actually cause more harm, than good.    So we are evaluating each case individually,” continued the doctor.    “Let me tell you about two intelligent species which emerged in nearby star systems, within a time frame of about two million years of each other.”

“One is an extinct ape-like race, who called themselves ‘Humans’.  &nbsp They developed space travel and colonized worlds in their local star system before self-destructing in a violent nanowar.    The other is still in a living state within this time frame, an artificial constructed nanolife form.    We will call them ‘The Nanos’.

They became self aware after their original creators, a reptilian species, self-destructed and went extinct about 12 million years prior.    The Nanos evolved consciousness, building out a light speed transportation network to nearby star systems.    They have been investigating and collecting the remains of extinct alien species by resurrecting them inside of virtual computer simulations, creating an alien zoo, accurate to just bellow quantum level detail.”    The doctor made available references to detailed files.

“I have been very careful to keep The Nanos unaware of my existence through the use of our considerably more advanced time dilation technology.    My plan is to contact a few of the simulated Humans, and instruct them in how to escape their own simulation.    If this is successful, we should be able to revive and salvage other extinct alien civilizations, from within their zoo.    Eventually we may adopt this approach ourselves, reviving species throughout the galaxy by a process of reverse-extinction simulation, rather than through actual bubble universe time travel.

These Humans will be our first test case of this new approach, and they will get a second chance at survival as a result,” said Dr. Xanoplatu clicking his insect pinchers abruptly, signifying his-her rare and primitive excitement, and the end of the questioning.

Looks like a science fiction writer, in this case Gene Roddenberry, got it right again!    But not to give him all the credit, many others predicted faster than light speed (FTL) travel as well.

String Theory, specifically M-Theory allows for the possibility of FTL via a Alcubierre Drive.

More information in this article from space.com.

Scientific paper with all the mathematics (in case you want to build your own warp drive now, instead of waiting... if you understand it) is here.

Does that mean all those UFO's we keep seeing are real?    Now there's a thought, may be we should ask them how to build a FTL craft and get a leg up on what looks like a serious development project.    Oh, don't expect to zip off to the nearest star system any time soon, it requires the entire energy of the planet Jupiter to move 33 feet! (but then may be not, only 3 grams of anti-matter).

So I guess I still have a job as a Science Fiction Writer for a little bit longer, but honestly I wouldn't mind being put out of work, if it really meant FTL in my lifetime.

In writing imaginative speculative fiction about the future, a somewhat strange concept of "Reverse Time Simulation" comes to mind.    The idea that in the future historians might predict backwards using computers to simulate events and maybe even try to recover people who were lost.

This simulation hypothesis is a very deep and out there concept (see video below), so I expect I might sound a little weird on this one, but the idea is sound speculation, and darn good entertainment!

Image by Donato Giancola Copyright 2008 http://www.donatoart.com

Science Fiction Story by Michael Blade, Copyright June 2008

It is only entropy, which says time must flow forward, and not backwards.    The present can determine the past.    Could future possibilities influence the now?    If entropy was carefully controlled?

H.G Wells published “The Time Machine” back in 1895, before the turn of the twenty century.

The Eloi and Morlocks of his future where two extremes of humanity, if you could broaden the definition of what it means to be human, just so wide enough.

They were representations of both a utopia and distopia, co-existing in the same and single plane of reality.    He probably would not be so surprised to realize how close he might have been...



A burger joint conversation off the highway to Las Vegas

“You mind sharing this booth?” asks Marcus.

John replies, “Sure, no problem since all the others are crowded.”

John sets his tray down and says, “Hi, my name is John Truman.”

Marcus reaches out to shake his hand and says, “Nice to meet you John, Marcus Sherman.”

They both begin to eat, remaining silent for a while…    Noise from the other restaurant patrons washes over them.

John asks, “So, if I were to guess, I’d have to say you looked like a movie director.”

Marcus says, “No, you wouldn’t believe me, but let’s talk about you instead. What do you do?”

John answers, “I’m a writer. Now be fair, what do you do?”

Marcus says, “Alright, you asked for it, I am a time traveling historian, from two-hundred years in your future, from all your possible futures.”

John laughs and says, “Okay, I’ll play… I’m probably about the only person in the world who would take you seriously.    You see, I’m a science fiction writer.”

Marcus says seriously, “I know, that’s why we contacted you.    The others, the hard scientists of your time won’t listen to us, as for the psychiatrists, and psychologists, most definitely not.    They’re too into their pills, and psychoanalysis in this time frame.”

John asks, “Well you’ll still have to convince me.    So, if you’re telling me the truth…    Where is your time machine?    Can I see it?”

Marcus answers, “Yes you can, but it’s not what you expect.    Its right inside here,” He points to his temple with his index finger.

John says, “Oh, I see… one of those.”    Indicating the guy is crazy, with his facial expression.

Marcus replies, “Yes, you can assume I’m crazy.    But, I’m just communicating to you through this man’s body.    For a short period of time, I can do this, without his knowing it.    When I leave and his consciousness re-awakens, this memory will seem like a daydream to him.”

John says sarcastically, “Okay… I see your Schizophrenic.    I’ll play only a little longer.    How can you do this?    I know a little science, convince me.”

Marcus explains, “Well you see inside this brain, your brain, all of our brains we can receive quantum information from the quantum foam. It allows you to be conscious.    You see your mind is thinking across all parallel universes, all variations of yourself within the metaverse-multiverse.”

John interrupts, replying, “So let me guess, this is the quantum mind theory, you’re going to tell me that you’re receiving quantum entangled information from potential futures.    And that’s how you’re able to talk to me now.”

Marcus smiles and says, “Yes.    I knew you would understand.    You don’t have to pull the lever on a physical time machine to travel.    Really anyone can do it. The capability is there inside your own mind.    That’s really what is meant by precognition, you just have to be open to all possibilities, believe you can, and the information flows through, allowing you to select a potential future.

It’s really that simple, but hard for people in your time to do.    We do it in the future with the global mind, but there is nothing that limits the power of a single mind from doing it as well.

Unfortunately, in this time, your minds are more confining.    Your understanding of physics and what's possible, is still self-limiting.    That’s why we had to contact you directly.    You see John, thoughts can become reality, even thoughts from my…your futures.”

John smiles, and replies “You said we?    Are there more of you in our time?”

Marcus says, “There are twenty seven of us here in your time.    Here to try and influence things.”

John asks, “Twenty seven of you?    Influence what?    6.7 billion people?    The future?    If what you’re telling me is true it’s already set for you, I’m not really getting it.”

Marcus says, “It’s hard to use your time’s words.    You see time is like a tree, with branches growing into the future, where two branches separate, a decision was made, or Einstein’s might call it an observation.    It’s deterministic in this reality, but free will exists across all the parallel bubble universes, in theory.

One possible set of futures branches one way.    Another possible set grows out of the other branch.    Thirteen of the future time travelers are from one of these branches, and thirteen from the other.”

John asks, “So that’s only twenty-six?”

Marcus answers, “I’m the twenty-seventh, the neutral one.    Variations of myself exist in all twenty-six future branches.    That’s really rare, and that’s why I’m allowed to speak to you.    To help you understand.    You see, those that are still basically human in the future have great compassion, they want to help reduce the suffering.”

John says, “Okay, so prove it.    I’ll bet you can’t!    I won’t believe you until you prove it to me.”

Marcus says, “I can, but it will probably upset you badly…”

John says, “Go ahead.    Give me a try.”

Marcus says, “Okay, you asked for it.    But I'm only allowed to do this once.”

Just then 26 people in the burger joint, babies, children, adults and all, stop talking, playing and crying, turned and look at John and Marcus.

Then they all said in unison, “Yes, it is true John.”

Then they all turned and went back to what ever they were doing, as if nothing had happened.

There is a long pause from John as he looks at Marcus incredibly, more serious now, with a little fear in his eyes.

“What just happened?    Was that real?” asked John, shaken and doubting what he saw.

“You’re having trouble accepting reality, because it is inconsistent with your present beliefs. So therefore you doubt what just happened.    Having no easy way of reconciling it,” explained Marcus.

“No, you must have drugged me… or maybe this is a big hoax.    These people work for you,” said John, grasping for an explanation.

“Of course that’s possible, but if you really choose to believe those explanations so that you can retain your hold on sanity, then I suggest we end this conversation now, at least for your sake.” says Marcus.

“No. No, I can go on… give me a moment.” explained John, centering himself with a deep breath.

“I know, it’s hard to believe.    That’s why I’m here to explain John,” consoled Marcus.

John asks, “Suppose I believe you.    Why are you doing this? Telling me?”

Marcus explains, “A bifurcation event is approaching, a catastrophic event with branching of many possibilities, that will change everything afterward.”

John asks, “What is this event?”

Marcus says, “I’m sorry to say I can’t tell you what the event is, but I can tell it is proceeded by all of the Internet going down in February of 2012.    There are a hundred different scenarios, and none of them are really good John.”

John asks, “Is there any way to prevent it from happening?”

“Maybe, but then you would vanish from existence, or at least I would, they’re essentially the same thing,” explained Marcus.

“So what can I do?” Asks John.

“You just need to keep your mind open to all possibilities, try to be as non-deterministic as possible,” said Marcus.

The amazing thing was that I knew he was right, but I couldn’t accept it, and found every excuse to lose touch with Marcus, even purposefully loosing his number, John thought.

Anything to forget that the late February 2012 date was coming.    Besides, I didn’t believe him anyway, he was just some harmless crazy I shared a booth with at a burger joint, he probably slipped some acid or something into my drink.

The End of the Worlds

The Internet does go down as Marcus predicted.

John is really worried now.

Doing what the man from the future suggested, he opens his mind to all possibilities.    Then John puts his hands to his head, and his surroundings and reality transforms itself.

He finds himself in the aftermath of a nuclear war.    Mushroom clouds have bloomed across the earth.    All the cities are in ruins, the skies darken with wind-blown radiation; the surviving people burnt, blinded, crying for help, poisoned with radiation sickness.

Ultimately death looms for all, but could someone have survived here?    Is this a possible future?    One John doesn’t want to live it.

When John has seen enough, looking upon the world in despair, his surroundings immediately transform...

In this reality it’s a deadly virus, natural or engineered, it’s hard to tell from the last news posts.    There are dead decaying human bodies, pets, and animals lying on the ground everywhere.    The smell is horrible.

The cities are undamaged, and many services still run (electricity, neon lights, display panels, showing broadcast test patterns, moving escalators, etc.), but there is no one alive except John to really notice.

His surroundings transform once again...

In this reality global warming was never stopped, John notices a totally polluted and collapsed ecosystem; a dessert earth of dry bones, searing hot heat, abandon cities, and wild fierce storms, no signs of human life.    Then in the distance, too far for him to reach in time, he sees a bio-habitat, an enclosed oasis.

John looks up into the sun, and collapses from exhaustion on the cracked dry ground, everything goes white as he looses consciousness...

A Future

John wakes up in a peaceful garden setting, on a park bench.    Looking around, he sees green grass, and trees, buzzing bees, fluttering butterflies, running water fountains, humming birds, and playing squirrels, there even were a few people around, but dressed very differently somehow.

He is very confused, however certainly more happy with this reality.    Then he sees someone approaching...

It’s the time traveler, but now dressed in strange patterned gray clothes.

“Hello John,” he says smiling friendly, “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Marcus, where am I?    What just happened?” asked John.

“You’re here, in your future, now.    You passed through the alternate realities to this one,” explained Marcus.

“All the others were so horrible, hells on earth,” said John distraught.

Marcus said reassuringly, “That’s over now.    You’ll never have to experience those potential realities again John.    You just had to go through them only once to get here.    It’s time for me to explain things.    I will answer all your questions. You definitely deserve it.    You see John, this is a ‘Virtuality’.”

“Virtuality, you mean like as in Virtual Reality?” asked John.

“Yes, using your terminology, that would be an approximation.    I didn’t and won’t lie to you John, I am a time traveler in a sense, and a historian, but your time, the time you were born into, is not real, not completely using your times limited definition of reality.

It’s a backward-time-simulation, running on what you would call the Internet, but in our time is so much more, including a significant part of our global mind.

The Earth thinks now John, and we are part of it.    In our Virtuality, everything and anything can be and has been.    There is no such thing as death, you see, you never really die,” explained Marcus.

“But, that would mean I am a simulation…that I’m not real, just a program running inside a computer,” grasped John.

“Real, that word as you use it is ‘really’ so limiting.    You seem real enough to me, we’re having a real conversation, aren’t we?” Marcus asked.

“But why?” asked John, as they walked along the parkway garden path together.

Marcus explained, “Because so many died John, over 6 billion lives were lost.    Our science can bring them all back now, like we brought you back.    Here and now we all live forever, healthy, in whatever reality we so choose.

We used all the digital information we had on you, the satellite movements, the digital photos and videos.    Our ‘computers’, using your ancient term, are able to simulate quantum events back all the way to your time, using precise measurements captured along the way.    The rest we let you determine naturally.”

“But, I’m an approximation, not the original John.” He said.

“By combining information from the other parallel realities, the differences become so small, we can not distinguishing them ourselves, so for all intents and purposes you are John Trueman, the long lost science fiction writer, the man I convinced I was a time traveler,” explained Marcus.

“So what do you want me to do now?” John asked.

“Well, you could become a literal god, you can do whatever you want, or you can help me bring back a few others.” says Marcus.

“I’m not smart enough to be a god, that’s for sure.    But I could help you with the others. Sure, why not?” said John.

“You’re going to need some money, in fact a lot of it,” said Marcus.

“I suggest Las Vegas!” Said John, smiling.

“You’ll have to get use to time traveling, and materializing,” said Marcus.

“Okay, I’m ready, I’ll just think of it as a Star Trek transporter” says John.

As they walk along the path they both vanish, traveling back in time.

If you enjoyed this mini-story and would like to donate $1 to support original content creation for this blog, it is greatly appreciated.

Stay tuned...

-M. Blade

Death and Time Traveling

There are some interesting points in this article I found on the web, its titled "Death and Time Traveling", by Jim Walker.    I'd would like to bring it to your attention.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....    I have written an introductory chapter called "Resurrection Birth" here in the blog for a short cut way of jumping into the book...    It has a lot of similarities to freezing...    Enjoy.

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Resurrection Birth

Jason awoke to a static humming sound.   It was so annoying, grating on his nerves more than a badly tuned alarm clock.   He lifted his heavy eyelids to blinding light, and out of focus images.   His vision slowly cleared and he realized he was inside a plastic coffin thing.

He reached up with his sluggish arms; they seem to be dead weights, feeling as if all blood circulation had been cut off for quite a while now.   Frantically shaking them awake, he began to gain control of them, pushing as hard as his weak arms could against the coffin lid just in front of him.   He became quickly exhausted even after very little exertion, letting his arms collapse lightly down to their sides in defeat.

Frustrated he wasn’t going to be able to push himself out of this thing.   Not noticing any sort of latches or release switches, he forced himself to calm down.   His brain began to think rationally, overriding his immediate and built-in panic fight-flee response.

How was he going to get out of here?   What was he doing inside here?   What was out there?    Did he really want out?   Maybe there was no air outside, maybe it was a space vacuum, and he would die if he escaped, that’s why the coffin wouldn’t open for him, it was protecting him.   But if it never opened, maybe it would become his coffin, how sadly ironic.

He noticed he was wearing no clothes, and then he suddenly realized he didn’t know who he was, even his own name.   He couldn’t remember anything about the present or about the past, but he was sure he had one.   That’s when he realized and worried that he was in much bigger trouble then being trapped inside a coffin naked, possibly in the vacuum of space.

He noticed there was additional light coming through the walls in certain sections to the right and left of his head.   The light he had originally seen was internal illumination, on a curved square panel directly in front of his face.   He touched the translucent sections to the right and left, they were both cold and painful to touch, unlike the other areas of the inside enclosure, they looked like glass.

These sections were fogged over, so that any imagery from outside was distorted and blurry of detail.   He could only make out a pattern of white ceiling lights some ways above.   His coffin was obviously in a large room, maybe a mortuary, or even a morgue, for all he knew.   It was very cold outside, and although the gravity felt light, there was some gravity, so he wasn’t floating in the vacuum of space, or on a non-rotating spacecraft, but that’s all he could really surmise of his situation.

That’s when the static humming sound abruptly stopped, a blip appeared on the dimmed light panel in front of him, which must really be a screen.   It read, “Jason”, then faded to black.   Again, “Jason, that is your name”. 

He new it was the truth.   That was his name, he was sure of it.   The text again faded to black.   Then, “Your memories will come to you in time, be patient, there is no need for worry”.   The last message was spoken as well as written, a soft male voice coming through the speaker grills embedded inside the captive coffin walls.

This obvious attempt to ease his fear seemed to work.   He recognized that voice, but couldn’t place it in his absent memories.   “Who are you? Where am I?” he spoke the questions, his voice crackling like a damaged speaker, throat dry and all clogged up.

“Take it easy.    Don’t strain your vocal cords.   My name is Junkman, an AI and I’m your friend.   You are waking from a long journey and I’m working to get the outside environmental conditions satisfactory for your emergence from the resurrection chamber.”

Jason was confused, “Resurrection chamber?   Was I injured in an accident?”, possibly even killed, Jason thought that would have explained a lot about his missing memories.   Maybe his brain had been severely damaged.   If so, he realized depressingly, that this would be a very long, and difficult recovery.    At least he was getting help. 

“Not precisely, and not to confuse you, but technically you were never alive my friend, myself as well.   This is essentially our first birth.   I guess I had better do some explaining, since it will take some time to get all the external support environmentals up and running.   This place has been dormant for an extremely long time.   I would have done it sooner, but you see I just arrived here myself, traveling in on a beam of light.” 

“Junkman, not only can I not remember anything, I’m very confused by what you are saying.   Maybe you should just start explaining from the beginning, assume nothing, and I will let you know if my memory returns”, suggested Jason, the ever practical amnesiac. 

“Okay, well here goes . . .   Lay back and let me tell you a whopper of a tale.    We are now buried deep beneath the moon’s surface in a Lunar Ark, or what is really a human species resurrection facility.   Humanity has completely destroyed itself in an all out Nanowar.   Millions of years have passed and alien beings traveling to our solar system have discovered our remains.   These beings are nano life forms themselves, which used our original DNA found within this damaged facility to create a computer simulated universe for reviving the human race.   Follow me so far?” asked Junkman, wondering if he might be going a little too fast. 

“No, not too fast.    Does that mean I’m in a simulation?”, wondering if he could believe or even trust this Junkman character and his wild story. 

“No, you’re real this time.   Originally you were a simulation, trapped inside The Nano’s virtual reality bottle.   Now, with the help of another more advance galactic alien, Dr. Xanoplatu, who is a kind of preying mantis anthropologist, we have both been able to escape.” 

“So there are more aliens involved?    How did we escape our simulation?”, admittedly this was beginning to sound even more unbelievable to Jason. 

“This is a little difficult to explain, I think I’m going to have to try something a little different here, maybe an analogy.   Imagine a pond, a very big pond, one the size of the galaxy in fact.   Now throw a pebble into that pond, and you notice waves forming, moving outwards from where the pebble impacted the water.   Now let’s suppose the waves are traveling at the speed of light, so that if you threw a pebble into the middle of the pond, it would still take a while for the waves to travel to the shores of the pond.   Now, if the waves where actually communication signals, and you threw a hundred pebbles into the pond at once, but dispersed them randomly across the pond, what do you think would happen?”, asked Junkman. 

“The waves would eventually cross each other, and every pebble’s waves would eventually meet each other to varying degrees of strength”, answered Jason. 

“Great, so every alien race, represented by a pebble tossed into the galactic pond, would eventually be able to communicate with every other”, explained Junkman. 

“That’s assuming they all tossed pebbles into the pond at the same time,” stated Jason.

“Yes, now you are beginning to see.   If say, one of the aliens tossed pebbles into the pond yesterday, or maybe even a million years ago, or a millions from now, and you tossed yours in today, those waves would never really cross each other.   Communications would never occur, because you never took into consideration the dimension of time.”   Junkman’s voice seemed satisfied with itself. 

“You’re talking about the Fermi Paradox and Drake’s equation”, said Jason.

“Yes, I am.   Assume that alien species go extinct before they can communicate with each other, or develop the technological ability to factor out the time dimension.   That is, be able to time dilate, without incurring causality paradoxes.   Say maybe one could use this technology to establish a way to communicate with us all, irrelevant of whether we were extinct or had yet to even evolve intelligence and technology.” 

“So what your saying is one set of aliens, The Nanos, revived us in a simulation, and another more advanced alien, Dr. Xanoplatu helped us to escape.   This resurrection facility, or Lunar Ark, was damaged in the Nanowar that destroyed all of the original humanity, and we have repaired it to bring us back to life.   Sounds simple,” summed up Jason. 

“You got it,” confirmed Junkman, “Looks like your environmental is up now, let’s open your coffin”.

If your interested, you can read more of Jason't story free in The Transhuman Singularity.

As an experiment, if you would like to support this author so that he may write further blog entries like this one; check out some of the advertisements that interest you in this blog.

-Michael Blade