I'm no temporal mechanics expert, but here's a post about time travel.
The ontological or 'predestination' paradox is the idea that, in the case of time travel to the past, effect precedes cause. Future Temporal Ranger A travels to the past, inciting event B, which then forces Past Ranger A to create chronovehicle C to return to the past.
In my limited understanding, this series of events can be described as a "closed time loop," or a "closed timelike curve."
This could result in something such as the events of Star Trek IV, where Scotty gave the design for transparent aluminum to an engineer in the past. The effects of this were ambiguous, and he suggested to Bones that he may have invented it in the first place. If the engineer had, and Scotty were just giving him the design that he supposedly patented, this is an example of a temporal causality loop.
But where did the design come from in the first place? The engineer obviously didn't do the footwork to create the design, even though the idea will be attributed to him.
My idea concerns what I like to think of as "imaginary time" or "hypothetical time," wherein the events in a causality loop were created by a linear temporal ray ending in a time displacement event. The time displacement results in a causality loop, eliminating the hypothetical time that's no longer part of the causal events, since an effect preceded a cause.
An example: Doc Brown (played by Rainn Wilson) invents a time machine through years of hard work. The machine is capable of temporal displacement with X number of passengers, and when he's finished with it, the machine automatically transports itself to the past to give Past Doc Brown the plans to design it (via email), then returns to its present. Instead of decades, Past Doc Brown uses the plans to complete the machine in days, which is programmed to execute its automatic transport-and-email script as soon as it's turned on. The effective reality we now have is that Doc Brown receives two identical emails for one loop, and the next loop and every loop after that, only one from the machine going back days instead of decades.
The decades of hard work are deleted from reality ('reality' used in this case to represent present-future-history), becoming imaginary or hypothetical time (use hypothetical if imaginary could refer to the square root of negative or inverse time). The causal loop is now the only reality, and the years of hard work aren't even a memory, because they never existed - only the design of the time machine now exists. (The time machine itself couldn't continue to go back infinitely, because eventually it will either run out of power or destroy itself, though it may be able to repeat the process many times. The point is, an artifact cannot survive in a time loop, only information can. An artifact CAN, however, survive in a time coil, a reality which loops back on itself in a decaying spiral, but has a distinct past and future.)
It's in this way that the universe and reality itself CAN allow time travel, with the caveat that there can be no caveats: you can't say "only time travel without paradoxes" because the ontological paradox ISN'T a paradox, we just don't understand effect before cause. There are no time travel paradoxes because all of 'reality' includes all time travel events in all of past present and future. The present is such because it accounts for all of future and past time travel.
Can you go back in time and kill your own father while he was a child? While this is a topic for another time, I believe that you can. Doing so simply creates an alternate reality; think of your reality as being coded with a serial number, say #1486. When you kill your father, it - the reality with your father's baby corpse - becomes #1486-a. If you remain in that reality, you can see yourself never be born. Should you travel back to the time from which you came, you'd may be surprised to find that your father was never killed as a child, if your time machine travels back to its own non-a reality in addition to traveling to the future of that event. If, however, your travel to the future involves relativistic speed and time dilation, not wormholes, you'd remain in the alternate reality; you'd still be in reality #1486-a, while you and your time machine are still #1486. You don't fade away as the probability of your birth begins to dwindle to zero, you simply have your own entire reality without timelike curve. The effect of you exists without any cause except the time machine itself.
They say that faster-than-light travel is impossible because it leads to time travel, which can cause paradoxes. Einstein himself, however, couldn't rule out the idea of time travel. In fact, by his calculations, time travel is theoretically possible. As you can see, time travel won't upset reality, it just makes it a bit more well-trod.
So, to paraphrase Enrico Fermi, if time travel is possible, where's the temporal tourism industry? If temporal father murder results in people existing only because of a time machine, where are all the time travelers and their gear?
I see several possibilities:
First, we might actually have time travelers, but they just get locked up as crazy people or murdered as heretics and their time machines are volatile or self-returning (since artifacts can't survive time loops) or just so tiny they're overlooked. They could also just all be really careful.
Second, our reality might be a source reality, where all the time travelers come from, and they go to other realities, making those realities 'alternates.' Perhaps every reality could be a source reality where time travelers come from, but is created as an alternate reality from exactly one temporal displacement. As you can imagine, this implies many realities, but each one may only ever have one fatherless babykiller, or perhaps even only one temporal tourist group. Like, every time displacement - without an associated ontological paradox - creates its own alternate reality.
Third, it might be that we destroy ourselves prior to the invention of time travel. This is the most grim.
Whatever the case may be, the universe is okay with time travel because it heals itself.
Partial Glossary:
Ontological paradox - any set of events that causes themselves to occur.
Predestination paradox - an accident or series of events (intentional or otherwise) resulting in a temporal displacement (time travel event), which causes itself.
Closed time loop - a part of reality that with a distinct past and future that will loop infinitely, from the perspective of a piece of information. (Not an artifact. An artifact in an infinite loop has a history of those iterations and will degrade over time. It cannot loop infinitely). Compare with....
Closed timelike curve - a reality that repeats itself exactly, with a temporal displacement at each end, forming a bridge between past and future.
Imaginary or Hypothetical Time - the footwork (or alternate reality) required to provide a specific time loop the information it requires to fuel itself.
Alternate reality - a branch of history with a trunk common to yours, but adjacent to yours and rapidly distancing itself from yours as time goes on.
Time Coil - a reality that loops back on itself for a limited number of iterations due to the fact that its being caused by an artifact going back to its past, and existing, not traveling, to the time when it goes back to its past. Eventually, the artifact breaks, and time no longer loops.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Sunday, May 06, 2012
Current events (BAD PUN #1)
So a few days ago, my father-in-law knocks on the door to our room and asks me to use my height to replace a fluorescent bulb that he says has been flickering when he tries to turn it on.
First thing I notice when I step out is the smell of burning wires. Bit of a language barrier between us but I manage to convey to him that the bulb is not only working fine, but that something out-of-sight is on fire. I find my remote thermometer and start looking for hotspots in the ceiling before doing any trial-and-error. Flipping the switch for the lightbulb eventually causes a flickering zap sound to fill the living room, in time to the flickering of the bulb itself. The sound seemed to be coming from the chandelier, and with the other light out, this is confirmed by light coming from under the fixture in the ceiling, when I try pulling chandelier's cord.
The time is 9pm. I tell him to call the landlady, downstairs, while I let my wife know that she should pack a bag or two just in case we need to evacuate. Between the landlady and the other tenants/relatives in the building, we eventually discover that the living room/master bedroom area has no assigned breaker in the box, but is instead just wired to the main breaker for the second floor. The local handyman is summoned, the second floor now totally dark, and my mother-in-law heads to the all day dime store to buy some St. Lazarus candle glasses. My wife is taking this in an amazingly calm manner.
The landlady threads an extension cord from the downstairs foyer to a power strip next to the kitchen to provide us with light and to keep the fridge operational. The handyman arrives, removes the chandelier, and we all discover a dirty carbon-coated tangle of ancient wires. Some experimentation with the breakers causes arcing and a candle-sized fire, apparently between the fixture connection and the ground. When the handyman intentionally grounds out the wire, there's a large electrical snap, a rolling cloud of smoke, but no breaker flip.
The handyman eventually pares away the bad portion of old wire and reconnects the chandelier. The lights no longer flicker.
Yesterday, my father-in-law complains to us that the living room TV is not working, asking my wife to check the connection. Nosing in, I find out that everything on that wall, as well as the previously offending light and chandelier, are not operational, nor is anything on in his master bedroom. I tell him to call the landlady again, and they spend half an hour playing with the breaker box for some reason before telling us that an electrician would arrive today.
Still waiting on that right now.
First thing I notice when I step out is the smell of burning wires. Bit of a language barrier between us but I manage to convey to him that the bulb is not only working fine, but that something out-of-sight is on fire. I find my remote thermometer and start looking for hotspots in the ceiling before doing any trial-and-error. Flipping the switch for the lightbulb eventually causes a flickering zap sound to fill the living room, in time to the flickering of the bulb itself. The sound seemed to be coming from the chandelier, and with the other light out, this is confirmed by light coming from under the fixture in the ceiling, when I try pulling chandelier's cord.
The time is 9pm. I tell him to call the landlady, downstairs, while I let my wife know that she should pack a bag or two just in case we need to evacuate. Between the landlady and the other tenants/relatives in the building, we eventually discover that the living room/master bedroom area has no assigned breaker in the box, but is instead just wired to the main breaker for the second floor. The local handyman is summoned, the second floor now totally dark, and my mother-in-law heads to the all day dime store to buy some St. Lazarus candle glasses. My wife is taking this in an amazingly calm manner.
The landlady threads an extension cord from the downstairs foyer to a power strip next to the kitchen to provide us with light and to keep the fridge operational. The handyman arrives, removes the chandelier, and we all discover a dirty carbon-coated tangle of ancient wires. Some experimentation with the breakers causes arcing and a candle-sized fire, apparently between the fixture connection and the ground. When the handyman intentionally grounds out the wire, there's a large electrical snap, a rolling cloud of smoke, but no breaker flip.
The handyman eventually pares away the bad portion of old wire and reconnects the chandelier. The lights no longer flicker.
Yesterday, my father-in-law complains to us that the living room TV is not working, asking my wife to check the connection. Nosing in, I find out that everything on that wall, as well as the previously offending light and chandelier, are not operational, nor is anything on in his master bedroom. I tell him to call the landlady again, and they spend half an hour playing with the breaker box for some reason before telling us that an electrician would arrive today.
Still waiting on that right now.
Friday, May 04, 2012
Thursday, May 03, 2012
The Faucet
I started this post with the title first. Generally, I like to name a piece after it's finished, but in this post, I decided to briefly discuss what being a writer is like.
Any writing, if it's good, flows freely and naturally. It requires little editing, and it'll surprise you at how fast it piles up. Conversely, bad writing generally takes a lot of time. This isn't to say that all great works were unedited, this is just a rule of thumb.
Good ideas are easy to describe and discuss. You get an image in your head, and you describe it. You make it move, you give it a face, a skin, an outfit. You invent a history, you have a conversation with it, it speaks to you and you write down what it tells you. A great idea is something that tells you how to present it; all you're doing is describing it, and it takes only the capacity to listen and ability to write.
The exact opposite of that is hard writing. Bad writing, while not necessarily awful in itself, either takes a long time, or the writer doesn't care about it. The idea is poorly formed and not well described, mostly due to the fact that there isn't much there to discuss about it. Perhaps the writer is looking at a good idea but lacks the talent or even just the practice to put what he sees into word. Maybe he's incapable of seeing the idea for the detail; another angle on the topic may lead to inspiration.
Bad writers may be able to describe good ideas well, but also have the tendency to think that bad ideas are good. Good writers can identify the difference.
A really great writer can take a bad idea and discuss why it is so awful. A great writer can make a Tome out of anything by just describing why it's bad or perhaps how to make it better, or even to discuss the history of the creator, kind of going around the idea. Avoid a bad or overused good idea by generating ancillary content, it's a trick that goes to the heart of every spinoff.
The ability to write well is a talent that few have. To do it on command - to turn it on like a faucet or perhaps a fire hose - is even more rare.
Good writers can turn into great writers just by becoming prolific writers. I used the word 'becoming' as opposed to 'being' because the journey to having 49 works of fiction and 14 other works is a trail littered with imagination and invention, of realizing that 'writer's block' is just a way of giving esteem to a lack of imagination. On the journey, a truly prolific author will discover techniques to push through the ennui when his imagination has been tapped. The key is simply practice.
Imagine a pie chart. Leave 85% to 'failure,' with slivers of 13% to 'so-so,' and 2% to 'greatness.' Now, throw an imaginary dart at this chart. Most of the time it'll land you in failure territory. But, no matter how bad a writer you think you are, eventually, with practice, the odds of 'failure' will reduce themselves because of the skills you gain along the way. On a long enough timeline, that 2% chance of greatness will be completely filled. The nice thing about greatness (from what I've observed, not personal experience) is that it VASTLY overshadows failure, easily above a 1:50 ratio. People in general don't dwell on failures, because they don't like to be reminded of their own. People celebrate success, and you can coast for a good while on greatness.
I've also said that inspiration isn't like a faucet or a storm, but like a train: ten thousand tonnes of power and potential, it arrives for a moment and leaves, with or without you.
A great writer doesn't require inspiration; he can turn powdered shit into gold dust. But what makes a really great writer is perseverance, patience, discipline, and knowing the value of inspiration. When it arrives, that train is a nonstop express to greatness. A great writer will be able to identify the rumble when inspiration is coming, and will drop everything to take advantage of it.
(This post was written quickly.)
Any writing, if it's good, flows freely and naturally. It requires little editing, and it'll surprise you at how fast it piles up. Conversely, bad writing generally takes a lot of time. This isn't to say that all great works were unedited, this is just a rule of thumb.
Good ideas are easy to describe and discuss. You get an image in your head, and you describe it. You make it move, you give it a face, a skin, an outfit. You invent a history, you have a conversation with it, it speaks to you and you write down what it tells you. A great idea is something that tells you how to present it; all you're doing is describing it, and it takes only the capacity to listen and ability to write.
The exact opposite of that is hard writing. Bad writing, while not necessarily awful in itself, either takes a long time, or the writer doesn't care about it. The idea is poorly formed and not well described, mostly due to the fact that there isn't much there to discuss about it. Perhaps the writer is looking at a good idea but lacks the talent or even just the practice to put what he sees into word. Maybe he's incapable of seeing the idea for the detail; another angle on the topic may lead to inspiration.
Bad writers may be able to describe good ideas well, but also have the tendency to think that bad ideas are good. Good writers can identify the difference.
A really great writer can take a bad idea and discuss why it is so awful. A great writer can make a Tome out of anything by just describing why it's bad or perhaps how to make it better, or even to discuss the history of the creator, kind of going around the idea. Avoid a bad or overused good idea by generating ancillary content, it's a trick that goes to the heart of every spinoff.
The ability to write well is a talent that few have. To do it on command - to turn it on like a faucet or perhaps a fire hose - is even more rare.
Good writers can turn into great writers just by becoming prolific writers. I used the word 'becoming' as opposed to 'being' because the journey to having 49 works of fiction and 14 other works is a trail littered with imagination and invention, of realizing that 'writer's block' is just a way of giving esteem to a lack of imagination. On the journey, a truly prolific author will discover techniques to push through the ennui when his imagination has been tapped. The key is simply practice.
Imagine a pie chart. Leave 85% to 'failure,' with slivers of 13% to 'so-so,' and 2% to 'greatness.' Now, throw an imaginary dart at this chart. Most of the time it'll land you in failure territory. But, no matter how bad a writer you think you are, eventually, with practice, the odds of 'failure' will reduce themselves because of the skills you gain along the way. On a long enough timeline, that 2% chance of greatness will be completely filled. The nice thing about greatness (from what I've observed, not personal experience) is that it VASTLY overshadows failure, easily above a 1:50 ratio. People in general don't dwell on failures, because they don't like to be reminded of their own. People celebrate success, and you can coast for a good while on greatness.
I've also said that inspiration isn't like a faucet or a storm, but like a train: ten thousand tonnes of power and potential, it arrives for a moment and leaves, with or without you.
A great writer doesn't require inspiration; he can turn powdered shit into gold dust. But what makes a really great writer is perseverance, patience, discipline, and knowing the value of inspiration. When it arrives, that train is a nonstop express to greatness. A great writer will be able to identify the rumble when inspiration is coming, and will drop everything to take advantage of it.
(This post was written quickly.)
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Mad Science
What we traditionally think of as a "Mad Scientist" comes to us probably in the largest part from Dr. Frankenstein - a deranged man of letters living in forced seclusion with few or no relations. This description also applies to Dexter of Dexter's Lab and Doc Brown of de Lorean time machine fame.
However, I posit that not one of these characters can be considered a true scientist.
Let us explore the short list given above:
1. Dr. Victor Frankenstein
Background: Obsessed with mostly debunked notions of reanimation, he began his research and training on his own as a child. His entire life pushed him toward his own untimely death at the hands of his eventual creation.
Madness: While heavily involved in research and field study, Dr. Frankenstein was involved in almost no rigorous experimental design, rather, his theory was that he could reanimate dead tissue. No mad peer review, nary a mad poster session.
Verdict: Dr. Frankenstein was primarily a Mad Surgeon, with a background in Mad Engineering as evidenced by all his Mad Devices.
2. Dexter of Dexter's Lab
Background: A tortured genius child with a secret luBOARatoree accessed from his bedroom, Dexter is tormented by both his rival Mandark and sister Dee Dee.
Madness: A combination of devices and novel chemical compounds provide plot devices. He is however involved in several school science fairs.
Verdict: Dexter was primarily a Mad Inventor and Mad Biochemical Engineer, though he was involved in some actual science.
3. Dr. Emmit Lathrop "Doc" Brown (von Braun)
Background: Born of German immigrants to California, Doc Brown supposedly was a minor figure in the Manhattan Project. After destroying his family mansion in a fire and selling off the prime real estate to fund his own projects, Doc Brown eventually made time travel possible, if impractical.
Madness: Doc Brown's obsession with a vision brought on by a concussion and his haphazard and highly irresponsible methods of experimentation and acquisition brought him nothing but the ire of his colleagues. Only his dog and a relationship with part-time reference library clerk (suggested from copies of RQ, Reference Quarterly, a magazine on his bed's headboard, and his ease within the confines of the Hill Valley Historical Archives) Martin "Marty" McFly kept him from total personal isolation before the timeline was shattered by the events of TE-1.
Verdict: Doc Brown was primarily a Mad Engineer.
As we can see, our perception of Mad Science is actually skewed toward what is more akin to Mad Engineering. There is very little actual Mad Research or Mad Scientific Method - everything we see is simply Mad Scientific Knowledge applied to real world problems: Mad Engineering, in essence.
While I'd pay to see a Mad Poster Session and Mad Paper published, and would like to know just how a Mad Control Group would operate, I'm content to take Mad Engineering in my fiction.
However, I posit that not one of these characters can be considered a true scientist.
Let us explore the short list given above:
1. Dr. Victor Frankenstein
Background: Obsessed with mostly debunked notions of reanimation, he began his research and training on his own as a child. His entire life pushed him toward his own untimely death at the hands of his eventual creation.
Madness: While heavily involved in research and field study, Dr. Frankenstein was involved in almost no rigorous experimental design, rather, his theory was that he could reanimate dead tissue. No mad peer review, nary a mad poster session.
Verdict: Dr. Frankenstein was primarily a Mad Surgeon, with a background in Mad Engineering as evidenced by all his Mad Devices.
2. Dexter of Dexter's Lab
Background: A tortured genius child with a secret luBOARatoree accessed from his bedroom, Dexter is tormented by both his rival Mandark and sister Dee Dee.
Madness: A combination of devices and novel chemical compounds provide plot devices. He is however involved in several school science fairs.
Verdict: Dexter was primarily a Mad Inventor and Mad Biochemical Engineer, though he was involved in some actual science.
3. Dr. Emmit Lathrop "Doc" Brown (von Braun)
Background: Born of German immigrants to California, Doc Brown supposedly was a minor figure in the Manhattan Project. After destroying his family mansion in a fire and selling off the prime real estate to fund his own projects, Doc Brown eventually made time travel possible, if impractical.
Madness: Doc Brown's obsession with a vision brought on by a concussion and his haphazard and highly irresponsible methods of experimentation and acquisition brought him nothing but the ire of his colleagues. Only his dog and a relationship with part-time reference library clerk (suggested from copies of RQ, Reference Quarterly, a magazine on his bed's headboard, and his ease within the confines of the Hill Valley Historical Archives) Martin "Marty" McFly kept him from total personal isolation before the timeline was shattered by the events of TE-1.
Verdict: Doc Brown was primarily a Mad Engineer.
As we can see, our perception of Mad Science is actually skewed toward what is more akin to Mad Engineering. There is very little actual Mad Research or Mad Scientific Method - everything we see is simply Mad Scientific Knowledge applied to real world problems: Mad Engineering, in essence.
While I'd pay to see a Mad Poster Session and Mad Paper published, and would like to know just how a Mad Control Group would operate, I'm content to take Mad Engineering in my fiction.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Reason
Yellowstone becomes a flood basalt.
Carbon-coated asteroid on an incidental orbit collides with Earth.
Gamma-ray burst from a distant star sweeps across half the surface of Earth.
The end-of-life scenario for Sol, where it increases in both size and power output, heats Earth just 40 degrees.
What all these events have in common is that they are inevitable. Given a long enough timeline, these all WILL happen, killing most or all life on the surface of the planet, either way ending life as we know it.
Among other things, this means that, in the very long term, conservation is meaningless.
Penguins may be the cutest animals. Crows, dolphins and great apes are the other sapient lifeforms that we know of. Bowhead whales live so long that they can remember the North Atlantic whaling industry. But the fact remains that if a low-visibility iron asteroid the size of Manhattan decides to turn itself and most of the Baja Peninsula into a bolide, none of those animals would matter anymore. If, starting tomorrow and for the next thousand years, Yellowstone decides to open up and cover the entire Pacific Northwest in molten rock, the Deepwater Horizon disaster isn't going to be remembered by the alien archaeologists that discover our sooty corpses.
The simple and important fact is that life exists in the spaces between world-ending catastrophes.
Conservation is important while we're here, but is, in the very long term, pointless. Whether or not you recycle or turn the lights out when you leave a room will factor very little in the ultimate end-state of the Earth.
Of course, I don't mean we should extract the marrow from the bones of all polar bears while we still can. Conservation remains important for a simple reason: this is our only home.
My point is this: we have to find another home. The most common reaction I hear to this idea is "Oh, so we can just destroy another planet?" That's stupid for 3 reasons:
1. Saying that is essentially equal to saying "We should just kill ourselves right now."
2. Another planet would be equally susceptible to the very same end-state I'm trying to warn us about. Even though it'd be another 'basket' for our 'eggs,' it'd still be at risk.
3. I'm not even suggesting we find an already-habitable planet and go there.
We're a smart species! If we took all the money we spent on war and waste in the past 20 years alone and spent it instead on medicine and NASA, a Martian colonial scientist would have cured cancer already.
We don't even need to go to another planet! The craft necessary to transport extrasolar colonists on that scale would necessarily be self-sufficient for extended periods, and more importantly, compared to a planet, mobile.
In sum, because life on Earth WILL end, one way or another, we NEED to leave. We MUST become creatures of the stars.
Carbon-coated asteroid on an incidental orbit collides with Earth.
Gamma-ray burst from a distant star sweeps across half the surface of Earth.
The end-of-life scenario for Sol, where it increases in both size and power output, heats Earth just 40 degrees.
What all these events have in common is that they are inevitable. Given a long enough timeline, these all WILL happen, killing most or all life on the surface of the planet, either way ending life as we know it.
Among other things, this means that, in the very long term, conservation is meaningless.
Penguins may be the cutest animals. Crows, dolphins and great apes are the other sapient lifeforms that we know of. Bowhead whales live so long that they can remember the North Atlantic whaling industry. But the fact remains that if a low-visibility iron asteroid the size of Manhattan decides to turn itself and most of the Baja Peninsula into a bolide, none of those animals would matter anymore. If, starting tomorrow and for the next thousand years, Yellowstone decides to open up and cover the entire Pacific Northwest in molten rock, the Deepwater Horizon disaster isn't going to be remembered by the alien archaeologists that discover our sooty corpses.
The simple and important fact is that life exists in the spaces between world-ending catastrophes.
Conservation is important while we're here, but is, in the very long term, pointless. Whether or not you recycle or turn the lights out when you leave a room will factor very little in the ultimate end-state of the Earth.
Of course, I don't mean we should extract the marrow from the bones of all polar bears while we still can. Conservation remains important for a simple reason: this is our only home.
My point is this: we have to find another home. The most common reaction I hear to this idea is "Oh, so we can just destroy another planet?" That's stupid for 3 reasons:
1. Saying that is essentially equal to saying "We should just kill ourselves right now."
2. Another planet would be equally susceptible to the very same end-state I'm trying to warn us about. Even though it'd be another 'basket' for our 'eggs,' it'd still be at risk.
3. I'm not even suggesting we find an already-habitable planet and go there.
We're a smart species! If we took all the money we spent on war and waste in the past 20 years alone and spent it instead on medicine and NASA, a Martian colonial scientist would have cured cancer already.
We don't even need to go to another planet! The craft necessary to transport extrasolar colonists on that scale would necessarily be self-sufficient for extended periods, and more importantly, compared to a planet, mobile.
In sum, because life on Earth WILL end, one way or another, we NEED to leave. We MUST become creatures of the stars.
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