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4 Seasons. Cruz Pride. Lazy Eight: UFO or Turing?

Monday, June 5th, 2006

My demonic computer hacker pal John Walker has made a one-year-long movie of the view out one of his windows in Lignieres, Switzerland, shooting a picture a day and assembling them into a film called Les Quatre Saisons.

[Photos from the Pride Parade in Santa Cruz on Sunday.]

I’ve been working on ideas for the final chapters of my novel Postsingular. I have an issue with there being two parallel worlds (the Mainbrane and the Mirrrobrane), and I want them similar but not too similar.

One way to have the worlds be similar yet different might be that their histories diverged at a specific time. I’d pick 1946 (my birth year) or soon thereafter. After the first atomic bombs went off, a UFO showed up on Earth in the Mirrorbrane, it was a survey drone drawn by the blasts, and it released something that upset the symmetry between the Mainbrane and the Mirrorbrane, at least in the region of Earth. Power chord!

The UFO put a lazy eight patch into the computation that generates Earth on the Mirrorbrane, but not onto the computation that generates Earth in the Mainbrane. Why the one and not the other? Maybe the UFO just happened to be from a Mirrorbrane world. Maybe there are more lazy eight worlds in the Mirrorbrane and we’re one of the earlier ones in the Mainbrane.

The eighth dimension, which has a very small Planck-length-like extension in the Mainbrane, becomes stretched to infinite length in the Mirrorbrane, although the infinite length is metricized so as to be finite. (Ph. D. = Piled High and Deep, .)

I will use the phrase “lazy eight” to speak of this change. It combines: eighth dimension, infinity as ∞, and the fact that infinity is “right here” in the eighth dimension as an ubiquitous lazy-man’s enlightenment.

It’s like you took the vanishing point of a painting and made it be at every point in space. The point at infinity, is present everywhere. The accessible point at infinity acts as an entanglement channel that connects every point with every other point in synchronicity.

How does lazy eight come to the Mirrorbrane?

Let’s just look at the historical record.

1945 A-Bomb. On July 16, 1945, in the desert north of Alamogordo, New Mexico, the first nuclear test took place, code-named “Trinity,”

1946 UFOs. In 1946, there were over 2000 reports of unidentified aircraft in the Scandinavian nations, along with isolated reports from France, Portugal, Italy and Greece. The post World War II UFO phase in the United States began with a reported sighting by American businessman Kenneth Arnold on June 24, 1947.

1946 Gnarly SF. Rudy is born.

1947 Transistor. On 22 December, 1947, William Shockley, John Bardeen and Walter Brattain succeeded in building the first practical point-contact transistor at Bell Labs.

1947 LSD. Sandoz Laboratories begins marketing LSD (discovered in 1938 by Albert Hoffman) under the trade name “Delysid” as a psychiatric cure-all.

1949 Computer. The Baby Manchester programmable electronic computer.

1954 Turing’s death. Alan Mathison Turing (June 23, 1912 – June 7, 1954) dies of cyanide poisoning. What if he instead invented psychic powers and teleported himself to San Francisco? [Thanks to Peter Norvig for suggesting the idea of an alternate history where Turing lives happily on SF, which has been gay friendly since post-WWII.]

It all fits!

I think I’m gonna use Turing and not the UFO. The British SS is closing in on Alan, trying to shove that poison apple in his mouth, and his morphogenesis work pays off with the ability to do lazy eight in his head! Solves the Halting Problem?

I wonder if I can work this Aztec marcher in too…

Jack Kerouac's Nap in Washington Square Park, SF, CA

Friday, June 2nd, 2006

Even though I’ve been sober for ten years now, I still look up to my early hero Jack Kerouac. I love his open writing style, and I’m fully taken in by the way he transreally merged his fiction with his mythos. I choose not to live like him so I can be sixty and relatively serene and still out there hitting the word-surf, but even so I’ll forever view Jack’s ways as romantic and cool, even though I well understand the nastiness of the actual reality details, it’s like this high-school crush I’ll always remember fondly, my introduction to divine poesy, a memory of an enchanting but lethal land. I'm grateful for every fresh day I spend outside of that land. But I still think Jack, who's buried there, is a great writer and a hero to admire. Does that even make sense? Well, who says people have to make sense…

Sylvia and I were in San Francisco for the day, and I took a nap in Washington Square Park as I like to do, my way of merging with Jack, also I love napping in city parks, it's a deeper form of tourism, you're touring the astral plane of the area.

The connection here is a scene in Big Sur when Jack Kerouac napped there in 1960, aged 38, on his way to drinking himself to death. I used Amazon’s “Search In Book” feature to find the page of the novel (search for “161”) and then worked out where that is in my printed copy; it’s in Chapter 30. Here’s a long quote from that.

[Begin Big Sur quote.]

So Ben Fagan [poet Philip Whalen] now sees I’m going overboard crazy and I need sleep — “We’ll get a bottle!” I yell. But end up, he’s sitting in the grass of the park smoking his pipe, from noon to 6 P.M., and I’m passed out exhausted sleeping in the grass, bottle unopened, only to wake up once in a while wondering where I am and by God I’m in Heaven with Ben Fagan watching over men and me. And I say to Ben when I wake up in the gathering 6 P.M. dusk, “Ah Ben I’m sorry I ruined our day by sleeping like this” but he says: “You needed the sleep, I told ya”—“and you mean to tell me you been sitting all afternoon like that?”—“Watching unexpected events” says he …

”What happened while I was asleep?”—“Oh, people went by and came back and forth and the sun sank and finally sank down and’s gone now almost as you can see, what you want, just name it you got it”—“Well I want sweet salvation”—“What’s sposed to be sweet about salvation? maybe it’s sour” …

I feel good because I’ve had my sleep but mainly I feel good because somehow old Ben (my age) has blessed me by sitting over my sleep all day and now with these few silly words … It’s been the only peaceful day I’ve had in California, in fact, except alone in the woods, which I tell him and says, “Well, who said you werent alone now?” making me realize the ghostliness of existence tho I feel his big bulging body with my hands and say: “You sure some pathetic ghost with all that ephemeral heavy crock a flesh”—“I didn’t say nottin” he laughs … “What are we gonna do with our lives?”—“Oh,” he says,” I dunno, just watch em I guess”

[End Big Sur quote.]

As a bonus I found something amazing in Chapter 13 (search for “flying saucer”) of Big Sur. Here’s the quote:

“But on the way to Cody’s [Neal Cassady’s house] my madness already began to manifest itself in a stranger way…: I thought I saw a flying saucer in the sky over Los Gatos — From five miles away — I look and I see this thing flying along and mention it to Dave…”

Jack saw a flying saucer over my home town of Los Gatos! How perfect.

Review of Seth Lloyd, Programming the Universe

Thursday, June 1st, 2006

Here’s my review of Seth Lloyd, Programming the Universe: A Quantum Computer Scientist Takes On the Cosmos (Knopf, 2006). In most of this review I'll be grappling with certain debatable issues, but let me say out front that I really liked this book. It's amazingly readable, given the heavy subject matter. Lloyd has a light, deft touch, and he tells good jokes in passing. One has a sense of a lively, humane intelligence working throughout. Highly recommended.

Seth Lloyd is a 46 year old professor at MIT, specializing in quantum computation and quantum information theory. He’s best-known to the public for two articles in the Scientific American about quantum computing, most recently, “Black Hole Computers” in November 2004, co-written with Y. J. Ng. See also his more technical “Computational Capacity of the Universe,” online. More links: Kevin Kelly interviews Lloyd in the March, 2006, Wired; and a review of Lloyd's book in the New York Times.

He starts the new book, Programming the Universe, like this: “The universe is a quantum computer. … What does the universe compute? It computes itself.” [p. 3]

Rather than thinking in terms of matter holding information in terms of impossible-to-precisely-measure analog numbers like position or velocity, Lloyd suggests we think in terms of crisp quantum values that atoms can have; like “spin up vs. spin down” or “ground state vs. excited to discrete level so-and-so.” In this view, each particle in a physical system codes a few bits, and when the particles interact, we get a logical operation between the bits. Whenever particles bump each other, its in effect a quantum logic gate.

He has some good material about superposed states; the weird thing about quantum information is that a quantum bit or qubit can be in a superposed stated of partly 0 and partly 1.

Lloyd keeps his eye on the universe though. He suggests there is only one possible state for the start of the universe; it starts out with no bits of info at all. And the universe computes itself from there. Why, he wants to know, is the universe relatively complex looking without being boringly orderly (too cold) or totally random (too hot)?

Lloyd draws on the analogy of monkeys who are pounding away not on typewriters, but on keyboards that input code to a computer. The laws of nature are the computer. And the monkeys are inputting possible programs. Now, as it happens, lots of short programs generate nice-looking complex patterns. These are what Wolfram calls the Class 4 computations; the ones that I call gnarly computations. Water, fire, clouds, trees, these are all examples of natural computations that, given any of a wide range of inputs, will generate much the same kinds of patterns.

In Lloyd’s words, “Many beautiful and intricate mathematical patterns — regular geometric shapes, fractal patterns, the laws of quantum mechanics, elementary particles, the laws of chemistry — can be produced by short computer programs. Believe it or not a [programming] monkey has a good shot at producing everything we see.” [p. 184]

Lloyd has a nice description of Chaitin’s algorithmic complexity and Bennett’s logical depth, something I wrote about myself in Mind Tools. Bennett is amazing, he’s come up with so many important ideas, and Chaitin’s no slouch either. Lloyd uses Charles Bennett’s term “algorithmically probable” to refer to patterns that have a short program, and thus a high likelihood of resulting from randomly picked little programs.

He then says, “For the computational explanation of complexity to work, two ingredients are necessary: (a) a computer, and (b) monkeys. The laws of quantum mechanics themselves provide our computer.” [p. 185]

Actually, as I have doubts about quantum mechanics, I’d say that maybe we can just say the “laws of logic,” rather than “laws of quantum mechanics.”

The really debatable issue is what the monkeys are.

Stephen Wolfram would argue that the universe is ultimately deterministic; think of his beloved cone-shell type cellular automaton rule 30, which starts with a single bit, and spews out endlessly many rows of random-looking scuzz. So the random-looking seeds that feed into the universe’s computation aren’t in fact really random, they’re pseudorandom sequences generated by a lower level randomizing computation. In this view, there is only one possible universe.

I want to say, “Mektoub. It is written,” but that’s not quite accurate, as that phrase suggests that some divinity wrote out the history of the universe before it happened. It’s more that “It is programmed.” The underlying pseudorandomizer is a deterministic rule like CA Rule 30, and it feeds inputs into the universal computer that then generates the complex lovely patterns of the world.

Now, Lloyd, being a quantum mechanic, prefers to say that the “monkeys” are quantum fluctuations. One of the problems in this view is that it we aren’t philosophically satisfied with the notion of completely random physical events. We like to see a reason. The way quantum mechanics gets out of this is to say that since there’s no reason for a particular turn of events, it must be that all possible turns of events happen.

This is the multiversal view. Since there’s no reason that, say, bit 0 rather than bit 1 should pop up as the fluctuation found at a given instant, Lloyd would suppose that there are two universes, with 0 on the one hand and 1 on the other hand. Unlike David Deutsch, however, Lloyd isn’t interested in pushing the alternate universes as being truly real.

Lloyd sidesteps a move that I find intellectually unsatisfying. That is, he avoids falling back on the anthropic principle. If you suppose that all possible universe exist, then the question arises: why do we happen to be in a universe where everything is just right for humans to have come into existence? The anthropic principle says, well, the world is the way it is because if it weren’t, then we wouldn’t be here.

Lloyd seems to say, rather, that planets and trees and people are algorithmically probable. Things like us are fairly likely to occur in any gnarly class four computation, and all the universes, being universal computations, are potentially gnarly, and in fact a large number of random seed will produce gnarly.

But, being a quantum mechanic, Lloyd doesn’t give enough consideration to the ability of deterministic computations to generate what Wolfram calls “intrinsic randomness,” indeed, on p. 50 he writes, “Without the laws of quantum mechanics, the universe would still be featureless and bare.” That’s not true. If you look, for instance, at any computer simulation of a physical system, you see gnarly, but these simulations don’t in fact use quantum mechanics as a randomizer. They simply use deterministic pseudorandomizers to get their “monkey” variations to feed into the simulated physics. We really don’t need true randomness. Pseudorandomness, that is, unpredictable computation, is enough. There’s no absolute necessity to rush headlong into quantum mechanics.

Still on the debate between classical and quantum realities, Lloyd argues that the physical world can’t be well-simulated on digital classical computers because if you take a quantum system, then the system’s variables are generally in superposed states, so that if you have a system of, say, 300 atoms, and each atom’s spin is a qubit (quantum bit) that’s a superposed mixture of up and down, then to properly simulate what happens digitally, you really need to simulate all possible 2^300 pure states that the system could be in, and this is an impractically large number.

Therefore, says Lloyd, digital classical computers can’t simulate physics.

We could of course turn the argument around and say that if we believe that the universe results from a digital classical computation, then it must be that quantum mechanics is mistaken in thinking that systems really are in superposed states, for otherwise there would be too much work for the real ongoing digital classical cosmic computation which we can “plainly see” is happening all around us without slowing down.

In other words, I feel that Lloyd points out an inconsistency between the two beliefs, but he hasn’t proved that his version is correct.

This said, it’s nice to read about how nicely quantum computers can simulate physical systems. And I’m tempted to lighten up and let the quantum in to my heart. I’ll be doing that provisionally in any case in Postsingular which uses quantum computers. There’s no market in being a reactionary sorehead after all.

Coming back to Lloyd’s main point, the idea is “In the computational universe … the innate information-processing power of the universe systematically gives rise to all possible types of order, simple and complex.” Here, again, I’d stress that there’s no need for quantum computation per se to reach this conclusion. Because the laws of nature are a class 4 or gnarly computation they necessarily generate interesting structures that lie at the interface between on the one hand the Charybdis of predictable repetition and, on the other hand, the Scylla of random uninteresting scuzz.

By the way, I seem to recall that Charybdis was the sullen ocean-swallowing personification of a whirlpool near the Straits of Gibraltar and Scylla was the many-headed snapping personification of a shoal of sharp rocks near the whirlpool.

Charybdis, in that she pulls her inputs always to a single drowned point at the center of a vortex, is a good image of “too cold” computations that squeeze you down to constancy or periodicity. Scylla, in her savage punching-holes-in-the-hull aspect, is a good image of a “too hot” computation that tears everything to shreds.

Lloyd suggests what looks like a promising method for deriving general relativity from a quantum computational view of the reality. But perhaps its not so different form Wolfram’s more classical notion of reality as a network rewriting system that produces curved space itself.

[On p. 202, he makes a nice point, that is, since catalytic chemical reactions can carry out COPY, NOT and AND operations, we know that chemistry is computation universal. I wish I’d thought of saying that in my Lifebox tome!]

Bottom line: the universe computes itself, and there’s nothing particularly surprising about the level of complexity that we find around us, as this is typical for computations.

I’m science-fictionally intrigued with the idea of the big computation making up a kind of mind, and Lloyd also speaks to this: “Some of that information processing, like digital computation can resemble thought. But the vast majority of the information processing in the universe lies in the collision of atoms, in the slight motions of matter and light. Compared with what is normally called thought, such universal ‘thoughts’ are humble: they consist of elementary particles just minding their own business.” [p. 211]

But in Postsingular I’m gonna find a way to wake objects up…

George Clinton and P-Funk

Wednesday, May 31st, 2006

[Art 1982 by Pedro Bell / Splank Works]

In September, 1992, I was in emotional turmoil. I’d just lost my job as a programmer at Autodesk, and our last child was leaving the nest for college. I spent a night at the Mondo 2000 house in Berkeley and experienced some disturbing hallucinations (see the end of Chapter 8 of The Hacker and the Ants).

The next day, drag-assing along Telgraph Avenue, trying to get it together, I came across a used copy of George Clinton’s 1982 record Computer Games. George’s picture on the back seemed to speak to me. He knew where I was at. He’d been there from the beginning. Everything was gonna be okay. I got into the record, especially, “Atomic Dog”. What a great song. I’d never realized all along that Zappa and the Stones were imitating the George Clinton funk style, I didn't know what real funk was.

[Photo credit: Marcy Guiragossian, Marcy G. Photography]

Last night we went to see George Clinton and the P-Funk All-Stars at the Catalyst Club in Santa Cruz. It was so positive, such a great bouncy endless boogie. George like a shaman, like a happy tot, coaxing the maximum roar from the band (18 people strong at one point) and the crowd.

[Photo credit: Marcy Guiragossian, Marcy G. Photography]

A guy came out in a diaper and a floppy red hat made of maybe four yards of Chinese silk. He looked serious and craftsmanlike nonetheless. For a second I thought he was Bootsy Collins, but I don't think that's right, I don't think Bootsy is on this tour.

Quotes from GC and the show: “Yank my doodle, it’s a dandy.” “Harder than steel, still gettin’ harder.” “We tested positive for the P-Funk. I’ll pee in anybody’s cup. May they cup runneth over.” “We are all trying to straighten out a serious situation with faulty equipment.” (Last two quotes from the “Hiphop” entry in Mondo User's Guide, which I edited with Queen Mu and R. U. Sirius, Harper Perennial 1992).

I’m thinking I can use George as a model for Lama Jawobul in the Mirrorbrane, who has Ond Lutter imprisoned in maybe a Klein Bottle, and who’ll pass Higgs RAM to Thuy Nguyen to bring back to turn Earth into a conscious quantum computer without having to actually change anything, like, no grinding things up into nants.

Oh, I bought George's latest album at the show:

How Late Do U Have 2BB4UR Absent?

On stage, George said the answer to this question is

“4:21.”


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