…
Imagine sometime in the far future we pick up some type of
signal from an alien civilization. Since we mastered harnessing an
infinite amount of energy using our perpetual motion engines, it’s
pretty easy for us to hop in our spaceships and break the speed of
light.
Once there we scan for life and find none. Puzzled, we
instead find that the entire planet is in a constant state of creation
and destruction due to out of control chemical chain reactions. In
addition, the harmful radiation from the nearby star, and the corrosive
gases in the atmosphere would make life as we know it impossible. And
yet, we are still receiving crude repetitive transmissions from this
planet.
The captain orders a team sent to the surface to
ascertain the planet from the ground. Our anti-matter suits should be
effective at reflecting any sort of hostile matter or radiation that
would kill us outright. We beam down to the planet, and what we find is
horrendous:
Everything on the planet is hostile. From the
tiniest groups of molecules to the largest object, anything that moves
on the planet will chemically assimilate anything else. Though we are
repulsed, we are vaguely curious. From razor sharp blades, to pointed
objects, to poisons, to lethal traps and exothermic reactions,
everything has a way to consume energy.
Fearing for our lives,
we beam back to our ship, carefully decontaminate the team, then place a
warning force field around the entire solar system. We build a science
station with a nova bomb on a nearby planet in case the contagion
spreads, and then hastily head back home.
What would have
happened had this planet been exposed to infinite energy? It’s only
logical that the chain reaction would have spread infinitely, consuming
the entire universe. Photosynthesis and cellular respiration must be
quarantined for the safety of the universe.
That’s why this is called, oh wait, I wrote the wrong title. This should be: “Why Aliens Never Want to Contact Humans.”
…
Showing posts with label aliens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aliens. Show all posts
Saturday, June 8
Wednesday, April 6
Universal Zombies Themes, Part 2
You wouldn't know it from outside my blog, but for some reason, this post has the most page hits of anything I've written so far. Apparently some college professor somewhere has a class with an emphasis on the walking dead, so lots of sweaty students are typing "zombie themes" into Google and ending up here. Don't worry about it, I've been there. Your secret is safe with me.
I'm also fully aware (as it has been thus since Shakespeare's day) that the players should conform to the wishes of their audience, so here is another thought on zombies as a trope. Steal it...ahem, quote me and provide a proper MLA style citation. Or whatever. Just be aware that the dusty dude with glasses and a red pen can use the internet, too.
So here goes:
For the majority of movie history, zombies have been predominately one type: Sad. They wail, they shuffle around, they don't particularly look like a fun lot. I'd even go so far as to say they were depressed. I mean, maybe that's why they eat brains, just to make themselves feel a tad better before they burst apart at the seams. They aren't even really that scary, since they are so freaking slow. I mean, one dude with a baseball bat can take out at least twenty without any effort. Come on Hollywood, hear that? It's called suspension of disbelief shattering.
Then around 2002 we had a new type of zombie, the angry type. You can thank 28 Days Later for that one. Finally, a film with zombies in it that is actually scary. Rage zombies are pissed off, and oh yeah, they can run really fast. They are also pumped with adrenaline, so that means they are like undead PCP junkies with super strength. Think Incredible Hulk.
Still, rage zombies, while fun to watch, aren't necessarily built for one of the major tools in filmmaking: Suspense. It's tough to build up to a scare in an audience when the zombies are so stinking fast, and your entire movie changes to a shlocky surprise flick at every turn if the zombies aren't laying in wait for an ambush somewhere.
Okay, so we have sad and angry zombies, what are we missing? What major emotional state has been yet to be explored fully by zombie filmmakers as a whole? I'll tell you what:
Happiness.
That's right. There should be happy zombies. Think Wall-E. Think of zombies that actually wanted to become zombies in the first place. Imagine the themes possible in an exploration of that. You'd have protagonists that would have to wrestle with the fundamental questions of an eternal reward, right here on Earth, that would be better than living as a "normal" human. Let me list a few places where a movie like this could be applicable to our modern world:
That's just a drop in the bucket of what I'm talking about. Sure, there have been movies that tangentially explore these themes, but minus the zombies. Get some gory zombies running around with giant smiles on their faces, have Woody Harrelson say, "Man, I'd sure like to be happy again and see my little pup," and get some drama going with this stuff. Add in some clowns for giggles, just to be sure.
So get to it Hollywood. Make some freaking Happiness Zombies.
I'm also fully aware (as it has been thus since Shakespeare's day) that the players should conform to the wishes of their audience, so here is another thought on zombies as a trope. Steal it...ahem, quote me and provide a proper MLA style citation. Or whatever. Just be aware that the dusty dude with glasses and a red pen can use the internet, too.
So here goes:
For the majority of movie history, zombies have been predominately one type: Sad. They wail, they shuffle around, they don't particularly look like a fun lot. I'd even go so far as to say they were depressed. I mean, maybe that's why they eat brains, just to make themselves feel a tad better before they burst apart at the seams. They aren't even really that scary, since they are so freaking slow. I mean, one dude with a baseball bat can take out at least twenty without any effort. Come on Hollywood, hear that? It's called suspension of disbelief shattering.
Then around 2002 we had a new type of zombie, the angry type. You can thank 28 Days Later for that one. Finally, a film with zombies in it that is actually scary. Rage zombies are pissed off, and oh yeah, they can run really fast. They are also pumped with adrenaline, so that means they are like undead PCP junkies with super strength. Think Incredible Hulk.
Still, rage zombies, while fun to watch, aren't necessarily built for one of the major tools in filmmaking: Suspense. It's tough to build up to a scare in an audience when the zombies are so stinking fast, and your entire movie changes to a shlocky surprise flick at every turn if the zombies aren't laying in wait for an ambush somewhere.
Okay, so we have sad and angry zombies, what are we missing? What major emotional state has been yet to be explored fully by zombie filmmakers as a whole? I'll tell you what:
Happiness.
That's right. There should be happy zombies. Think Wall-E. Think of zombies that actually wanted to become zombies in the first place. Imagine the themes possible in an exploration of that. You'd have protagonists that would have to wrestle with the fundamental questions of an eternal reward, right here on Earth, that would be better than living as a "normal" human. Let me list a few places where a movie like this could be applicable to our modern world:
- video games (particularly MMOs)
- religion (specifically heaven)
- pharmaceuticals (a pill that makes you a happy zombie)
- humans as secondary lifeforms (alien or machine or whatever zookeepers, think Matrix)
- advertising
- government
- movies (talk about self-referential)
- relationships (eHarmony type sites)
That's just a drop in the bucket of what I'm talking about. Sure, there have been movies that tangentially explore these themes, but minus the zombies. Get some gory zombies running around with giant smiles on their faces, have Woody Harrelson say, "Man, I'd sure like to be happy again and see my little pup," and get some drama going with this stuff. Add in some clowns for giggles, just to be sure.
So get to it Hollywood. Make some freaking Happiness Zombies.
Tuesday, December 7
Where is All the Dark Matter/Energy?
I've been thinking about Dark Matter and Dark Energy, which is to say that I've been speculating possible reasons for why we have no idea where most of the matter and energy in our universe is. Just take a look at this graph:
This pretty much means that 96% of the mass/energy in the universe is not visible to us. Which is sort of confusing. I mean, we can see stars, we can see gas, we can see the rocks and matter all around us, but for some inexplicable reason we are unable to visibly see 80% of all matter, or even observe, let alone harness most of the energy in our universe.
Let me combine this idea with my previous post about a super advanced alien civilization:
For sake of an analogy, pretend we are fish. We are swimming up a river, and bam, out of the blue, we hit this barrier where we can't go upstream anymore. Our fishy senses are confused, because hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have programmed us to want to swim up this stream, but for some reason we are blocked. Something hard and impassible obstructs our way, and we are unable to continue, unable to advance up this river, all because of a dam.
Now imagine a super advanced civilization of aliens. Perhaps these aliens evolved in another universe, somewhere trillions or quadrillions of years in the past from our own universe. Maybe they developed a way to travel through space and time, and even between universes, and they have been skipping between universes, colonizing as they go. Perhaps these technologies require unthinkable amounts of energy, possibly the energy from many stars, from many galaxies, from many universes, all acquired by this supremely powerful species.
(Just like how we have dominated the resources on our own planet, and would absolutely ransack the resources of nearby planets, if we could only figure out a cheap way to get there.)
So imagine this alien species is here already. Perhaps they have already harnessed 95% of the matter/energy in our universe, possibly with a super advanced version of a Dyson Sphere, that blocks all outgoing radiation with a super thin mesh of nano-robot solar panels. They could place these megastructures on any star, at any point in time, at the exact moment of a star's birth, to maximize the efficiency of their consumption.
What if we can't see most of the matter and energy in the universe, for the simple explanation that they are already being harvested by someone else? What if there is a fifth level to the Kardashev scale, where an alien civilization has not only consumed all of the energy of their universe, but has moved on to dominate millions or billions of other universes, including our own?
If this is true, then I would alter the Zoo Hypothesis to something much more humbling, something more fitting of our proper place in the universe:
I'd call it the Fishbowl Hypothesis.
This pretty much means that 96% of the mass/energy in the universe is not visible to us. Which is sort of confusing. I mean, we can see stars, we can see gas, we can see the rocks and matter all around us, but for some inexplicable reason we are unable to visibly see 80% of all matter, or even observe, let alone harness most of the energy in our universe.
Let me combine this idea with my previous post about a super advanced alien civilization:
For sake of an analogy, pretend we are fish. We are swimming up a river, and bam, out of the blue, we hit this barrier where we can't go upstream anymore. Our fishy senses are confused, because hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have programmed us to want to swim up this stream, but for some reason we are blocked. Something hard and impassible obstructs our way, and we are unable to continue, unable to advance up this river, all because of a dam.
Now imagine a super advanced civilization of aliens. Perhaps these aliens evolved in another universe, somewhere trillions or quadrillions of years in the past from our own universe. Maybe they developed a way to travel through space and time, and even between universes, and they have been skipping between universes, colonizing as they go. Perhaps these technologies require unthinkable amounts of energy, possibly the energy from many stars, from many galaxies, from many universes, all acquired by this supremely powerful species.
(Just like how we have dominated the resources on our own planet, and would absolutely ransack the resources of nearby planets, if we could only figure out a cheap way to get there.)
So imagine this alien species is here already. Perhaps they have already harnessed 95% of the matter/energy in our universe, possibly with a super advanced version of a Dyson Sphere, that blocks all outgoing radiation with a super thin mesh of nano-robot solar panels. They could place these megastructures on any star, at any point in time, at the exact moment of a star's birth, to maximize the efficiency of their consumption.
What if we can't see most of the matter and energy in the universe, for the simple explanation that they are already being harvested by someone else? What if there is a fifth level to the Kardashev scale, where an alien civilization has not only consumed all of the energy of their universe, but has moved on to dominate millions or billions of other universes, including our own?
If this is true, then I would alter the Zoo Hypothesis to something much more humbling, something more fitting of our proper place in the universe:
I'd call it the Fishbowl Hypothesis.
Sunday, November 28
Alien Hippies
Where are all the aliens?
This is the fundamental question behind the Fermi paradox, which in essence states that we should see some evidence for extraterrestrial life, given the large number of stars in the observable universe (70 sextillion, woo!).
So I am going to flip the question around, and assume some possible scenario where an alien civilization might rise up out of the galactic muck and see our universe as its own plaything.
If it's the former, then why are we still here? If a hostile alien race that has existed for many lifetimes of other universes can time travel, then it can surely jump to when we were defenseless single-celled organisms and destroy all life on Earth for the entire existence of this universe. Or perhaps they can foresee that we are not and never will be a threat, either because we mushroom cloud ourselves, or some natural disaster like a comet destroys all life on Earth, or at least all sentient life.
Let's look at the other option: the most advanced species in the entire history of all universes is us (or at least, an evolved version of us.) I find that rather difficult to believe. Not only are there untold numbers of stars and planets in our observable universe that are older than our sun and Earth, but we are just scratching the surface with our predictions for other possible universes, which could be nearing an infinite number that may have existed for near an infinite amount of time. The likelihood that we are or will be the most advanced species ever is pretty slim.
For sake of optimism, let's reject that we (or some other species on our planet) will blow ourselves up, and that we will not be able to foresee and avert possible natural disasters. Let's also assume the anthropic bias that lets us be the center of the known universe is also incorrect.
So therefore, if both options are unlikely (either aggressive aliens or us), I think that at least one of my three assumptions is invalid. So either:
Also, the very idea that time travel is not possible is pretty silly, especially considering the idea that monkeys barely out of the jungle have theorized that space and time are perpendicular sides of the same coin.
So let's look at #3. Why are species on our planet aggressive? Why are they genetically programmed to reproduce, and fill an ecological niche at the expense of another species? Why do tigers have fangs and claws, rose bushes have thorns, and people kill each other in all sorts of creative ways?
Easy. Scarcity. Life on our planet evolved with limited resources. Every species on this rock fights tooth and nail for every scrap of food, which most likely is some other species that we happened to tooth and nail to death. We are bounded by our evolutionary heritage to kill or be killed, and either dominate our environment or have our environment dominate us.
However, what if the advanced civilization in Assumption #1 has already fixed their problem with limited resources? What if they have solved all hunger, have no need of land, can generate any sort of matter or energy at will, and have tinkered with their own genetic code to limit their own exponential population growth?
What if they are no longer aggressive, either because their evolutionary track was not as cutthroat as ours, or because their technology solved the problem of scarcity ages ago, and thus no longer need to dominate the universe, let alone us?
Notice, that I'm not saying that the species in Assumption #1 is benevolent. I don't imagine they would be particularly thrilled to have competition, at least not from us if we cannot conquer our version of scarcity. Though perhaps they would at least be interested to see our evolution from single celled organism to universe traveling civilization, if we can control our unchecked aggression first so we don't annihilate ourselves in the process.
So if there is an advanced civilization, and we want to meet them someday, then I suggest that the number one priority for our civilization--besides not blowing ourselves to smithereens--is to master our control of available resources without exceeding it, and figure out a way to transition ourselves from an aggressive dominating civilization to a non-aggressive, non-dominating one.
This is the fundamental question behind the Fermi paradox, which in essence states that we should see some evidence for extraterrestrial life, given the large number of stars in the observable universe (70 sextillion, woo!).
So I am going to flip the question around, and assume some possible scenario where an alien civilization might rise up out of the galactic muck and see our universe as its own plaything.
- Assumption #1: There is or will be a supremely advanced species. This civilization should do any of the following: spontaneously generate matter and energy, is immortal, and can perceive and travel through space, across dimensions, and even between universes.
- Assumption #2: Time travel is possible and has been mastered by the species in Assumption #1.
- Assumption #3: The species in Assumption #1 is aggressive. Not necessarily in the sense of being destructive or bloodthirsty, but willing to expand to fill other niches, like every form of life on Earth.
If it's the former, then why are we still here? If a hostile alien race that has existed for many lifetimes of other universes can time travel, then it can surely jump to when we were defenseless single-celled organisms and destroy all life on Earth for the entire existence of this universe. Or perhaps they can foresee that we are not and never will be a threat, either because we mushroom cloud ourselves, or some natural disaster like a comet destroys all life on Earth, or at least all sentient life.
Let's look at the other option: the most advanced species in the entire history of all universes is us (or at least, an evolved version of us.) I find that rather difficult to believe. Not only are there untold numbers of stars and planets in our observable universe that are older than our sun and Earth, but we are just scratching the surface with our predictions for other possible universes, which could be nearing an infinite number that may have existed for near an infinite amount of time. The likelihood that we are or will be the most advanced species ever is pretty slim.
For sake of optimism, let's reject that we (or some other species on our planet) will blow ourselves up, and that we will not be able to foresee and avert possible natural disasters. Let's also assume the anthropic bias that lets us be the center of the known universe is also incorrect.
So therefore, if both options are unlikely (either aggressive aliens or us), I think that at least one of my three assumptions is invalid. So either:
- Counter-Assumption #1: There will never be a supremely advanced species.
- Counter-Assumption #2: Time travel is never possible.
- Counter-Assumption #3: The advanced species in Assumption #1 is not aggressive.
Also, the very idea that time travel is not possible is pretty silly, especially considering the idea that monkeys barely out of the jungle have theorized that space and time are perpendicular sides of the same coin.
So let's look at #3. Why are species on our planet aggressive? Why are they genetically programmed to reproduce, and fill an ecological niche at the expense of another species? Why do tigers have fangs and claws, rose bushes have thorns, and people kill each other in all sorts of creative ways?
Easy. Scarcity. Life on our planet evolved with limited resources. Every species on this rock fights tooth and nail for every scrap of food, which most likely is some other species that we happened to tooth and nail to death. We are bounded by our evolutionary heritage to kill or be killed, and either dominate our environment or have our environment dominate us.
However, what if the advanced civilization in Assumption #1 has already fixed their problem with limited resources? What if they have solved all hunger, have no need of land, can generate any sort of matter or energy at will, and have tinkered with their own genetic code to limit their own exponential population growth?
What if they are no longer aggressive, either because their evolutionary track was not as cutthroat as ours, or because their technology solved the problem of scarcity ages ago, and thus no longer need to dominate the universe, let alone us?
Notice, that I'm not saying that the species in Assumption #1 is benevolent. I don't imagine they would be particularly thrilled to have competition, at least not from us if we cannot conquer our version of scarcity. Though perhaps they would at least be interested to see our evolution from single celled organism to universe traveling civilization, if we can control our unchecked aggression first so we don't annihilate ourselves in the process.
So if there is an advanced civilization, and we want to meet them someday, then I suggest that the number one priority for our civilization--besides not blowing ourselves to smithereens--is to master our control of available resources without exceeding it, and figure out a way to transition ourselves from an aggressive dominating civilization to a non-aggressive, non-dominating one.
Thursday, November 25
200,000 Years in the Future
It all started with prosthetics.
Once a person could completely replace an arm or leg (and eventually any organ) with a cybernetic lookalike that was in all ways superior to their original body part, people clamored for new and better ways to replace themselves.
We aren't talking bulky metallic machinery, but sleek nanotechnology that can mimic flesh, while having the strength of a superhuman. That was just the start, of course, because as soon as you could replace one limb, why not add another? And another? Why not have three or four or ten arms?
Heck, why not have remote arms? It was one additional step to remote bodies, and one more step to the brains in vats stage, where everyone controlled bits of things removed from themselves, while encased in their life support system.
What was the point of even having biological arms and limbs and digestive tracks and lungs and eyes and skulls? After all, eating and moving around and breathing became expensive with 100 trillion people crammed onto planet Earth. It was much more cost effective for everyone to live as brain and spines encased in giant neural networks.
The virtual melded with the real, as awareness shifted to peripheral perception devices. A "person" could "see" with computer video cameras, hear with microphones, and touch with robotic arms that could be anywhere in the world. Not to be outdone by natural selection, humans could also sense every other frequency with additional nanocomputerized instruments.
Banks upon banks of humans, stacked a billion to a square mile, neatly organized in rows and tended by automatic drones, thought and thought and thought, a mind of minds.
When Earth became metasentient, it decided to procreate. It made Mars and Venus and everything in the nearby solar system in its image. Now the Earth was a metaspecies. Its cells were people, and it metathought with a metabrain of brain-neurons.
Not to be limited to one solar system, Earth learned space travel, and dominated nearby systems. Each planet became a new host, filled with trillions of brain vats, and each new Earth could metathink, and metafeel. They could go on metadates, buy each other metadrinks, and eventually, if they metaliked each other, they could have metasex and make little Earth babies.
Though it evolved to be something unlike the original Earth (just as simple cells evolved to complex cells over 1.8 billion years) the metaspecies prospered. Having spread to the farthest reaches of the Milky Way, Earth was not content, and so decided to dominate nearby galaxies, so that Earth might spread to everywhere in the known universe.
It was at that point that the metaalien known as Universe-348 went to the doctor and got a prescription for antibiotics specifically designed to fight off an Earth infection.
Once a person could completely replace an arm or leg (and eventually any organ) with a cybernetic lookalike that was in all ways superior to their original body part, people clamored for new and better ways to replace themselves.
We aren't talking bulky metallic machinery, but sleek nanotechnology that can mimic flesh, while having the strength of a superhuman. That was just the start, of course, because as soon as you could replace one limb, why not add another? And another? Why not have three or four or ten arms?
Heck, why not have remote arms? It was one additional step to remote bodies, and one more step to the brains in vats stage, where everyone controlled bits of things removed from themselves, while encased in their life support system.
What was the point of even having biological arms and limbs and digestive tracks and lungs and eyes and skulls? After all, eating and moving around and breathing became expensive with 100 trillion people crammed onto planet Earth. It was much more cost effective for everyone to live as brain and spines encased in giant neural networks.
The virtual melded with the real, as awareness shifted to peripheral perception devices. A "person" could "see" with computer video cameras, hear with microphones, and touch with robotic arms that could be anywhere in the world. Not to be outdone by natural selection, humans could also sense every other frequency with additional nanocomputerized instruments.
Banks upon banks of humans, stacked a billion to a square mile, neatly organized in rows and tended by automatic drones, thought and thought and thought, a mind of minds.
When Earth became metasentient, it decided to procreate. It made Mars and Venus and everything in the nearby solar system in its image. Now the Earth was a metaspecies. Its cells were people, and it metathought with a metabrain of brain-neurons.
Not to be limited to one solar system, Earth learned space travel, and dominated nearby systems. Each planet became a new host, filled with trillions of brain vats, and each new Earth could metathink, and metafeel. They could go on metadates, buy each other metadrinks, and eventually, if they metaliked each other, they could have metasex and make little Earth babies.
Though it evolved to be something unlike the original Earth (just as simple cells evolved to complex cells over 1.8 billion years) the metaspecies prospered. Having spread to the farthest reaches of the Milky Way, Earth was not content, and so decided to dominate nearby galaxies, so that Earth might spread to everywhere in the known universe.
It was at that point that the metaalien known as Universe-348 went to the doctor and got a prescription for antibiotics specifically designed to fight off an Earth infection.
Thursday, September 17
Diamonds in the Sky
I often wonder what my kids are thinking, like what is going through my toddler's brain when she is ripping up her toast on the carpet, or when my eldest is standing on the couch with no pants, eating a carrot the size of his arm, and listening to the garbage truck.
Fantasies where I am young again manifest themselves, and I'm curious as to this strange species called "children" because on the one hand, they bore me to tears, and on the other, I can be utterly enthralled with them.
Though whenever I try to repossess what has been lost, my adult nature kicks in, and I can't quite put my finger on where these beings are coming from.
They might as well be from another planet.
Fantasies where I am young again manifest themselves, and I'm curious as to this strange species called "children" because on the one hand, they bore me to tears, and on the other, I can be utterly enthralled with them.
Though whenever I try to repossess what has been lost, my adult nature kicks in, and I can't quite put my finger on where these beings are coming from.
They might as well be from another planet.
Saturday, September 12
Giants on the Horizon
I watched "The Iron Giant" with my son today.
He'd already seen it, and I could go into this whole tirade about the grandparents letting my three year old watch a PG movie without asking us, but...eh, what the hell. I'm not overly concerned with violence and kids because I'm not a believer in the purity and sanctity of the minds of our youth. It means more work for me explaining to him why the giant robot was shooting guns, but whatever: I have to pick my battles.
SPOILERS: (Though the movie came out ten years ago, so I shouldn't really have to warn anyone.)
So the giant robot really was an "evil" alien construct sent to kill all humanity. Or at least destroy anyone that shoots at it. Though I briefly touched on this before, I think that it's a fair assumption that anything resembling life as we know it would be adequately capable of defending itself. Porcupines have quills and roses have thorns for a reason. Lots of things have the ability to run really fast, and its not to win a medal in a race.
Pacifism at its extreme form is unheard of in the animal kingdom, and is not a viable long term survival trait. The only reason why we toy with it as humans is for relationships with other humans (and for some people, animals with human characteristics, like rabbits and seals. You don't see many people campaigning to cease the cultivation of wheat, for example, despite the fact that the wheat is probably at least a little discontent whenever harvest time comes around.)
Apparently though, in the universe of "The Iron Giant", consciousness gives beings the capacity for nonviolence. Though the robot has one major advantage: it eats nonliving metallic objects for sustenance. It doesn't need to ingest other lifeforms to survive, unlike humans, who are technically parasites. (Agent Smith is right, Mr. Anderson!)
What would a photosynthetic plant-like alien life form think of us as we continually conquer all earthly foliage and shape it to our whims? Will they see us as cruel taskmasters, who keep soybeans and corn in bondage?
What would an intelligent single cell alien life form think of vaccines and antibiotics? How would a bug-like life form react when they found out about Raid?
Our consciousness cannot unshackle us from the constraints of our physical form. We cause other beings harm with and without our consent. The happy lie is that plants and bacteria and flies don't have feelings or consciousness, which is absolutely unprovable. No one has any idea what a cockroach thinks about in its tiny little brain as my three year old squishes it into the sidewalk. I'm not saying that their awareness is as advanced as ours, I'm saying that they might have a simple awareness, which is still awareness, regardless of complexity.
How would we react to an advanced alien civilization, a million years advanced from our own, that decides, "Bah, these creatures called humans can't be conscious (because they aren't as evolutionarily advanced as us) so let's squish them. Who cares? They can't be aware of their demise, so whatever. Drop the graviton bombs and lets clear the place."
It's why a part of me dreads the day SETI hears something: I'm not sure whoever's talking is friendly.
He'd already seen it, and I could go into this whole tirade about the grandparents letting my three year old watch a PG movie without asking us, but...eh, what the hell. I'm not overly concerned with violence and kids because I'm not a believer in the purity and sanctity of the minds of our youth. It means more work for me explaining to him why the giant robot was shooting guns, but whatever: I have to pick my battles.
SPOILERS: (Though the movie came out ten years ago, so I shouldn't really have to warn anyone.)
So the giant robot really was an "evil" alien construct sent to kill all humanity. Or at least destroy anyone that shoots at it. Though I briefly touched on this before, I think that it's a fair assumption that anything resembling life as we know it would be adequately capable of defending itself. Porcupines have quills and roses have thorns for a reason. Lots of things have the ability to run really fast, and its not to win a medal in a race.
Pacifism at its extreme form is unheard of in the animal kingdom, and is not a viable long term survival trait. The only reason why we toy with it as humans is for relationships with other humans (and for some people, animals with human characteristics, like rabbits and seals. You don't see many people campaigning to cease the cultivation of wheat, for example, despite the fact that the wheat is probably at least a little discontent whenever harvest time comes around.)
Apparently though, in the universe of "The Iron Giant", consciousness gives beings the capacity for nonviolence. Though the robot has one major advantage: it eats nonliving metallic objects for sustenance. It doesn't need to ingest other lifeforms to survive, unlike humans, who are technically parasites. (Agent Smith is right, Mr. Anderson!)
What would a photosynthetic plant-like alien life form think of us as we continually conquer all earthly foliage and shape it to our whims? Will they see us as cruel taskmasters, who keep soybeans and corn in bondage?
What would an intelligent single cell alien life form think of vaccines and antibiotics? How would a bug-like life form react when they found out about Raid?
Our consciousness cannot unshackle us from the constraints of our physical form. We cause other beings harm with and without our consent. The happy lie is that plants and bacteria and flies don't have feelings or consciousness, which is absolutely unprovable. No one has any idea what a cockroach thinks about in its tiny little brain as my three year old squishes it into the sidewalk. I'm not saying that their awareness is as advanced as ours, I'm saying that they might have a simple awareness, which is still awareness, regardless of complexity.
How would we react to an advanced alien civilization, a million years advanced from our own, that decides, "Bah, these creatures called humans can't be conscious (because they aren't as evolutionarily advanced as us) so let's squish them. Who cares? They can't be aware of their demise, so whatever. Drop the graviton bombs and lets clear the place."
It's why a part of me dreads the day SETI hears something: I'm not sure whoever's talking is friendly.
Friday, August 14
Radial Thinking
Humans have evolved to think in straight lines. Our eyes, nose and mouth face forward, and the limit of our gaze at any one time is about 108 degrees, good enough to discover danger as we trundle along.
It's as if we take a funnel and attach it to our face, and filter out the majority of our immediate surroundings. This is even worse when we focus, and that funnel becomes a garden hose. Then we become one dimensional beings, traveling along a line from point A to B to C.
Even in my thoughts, I can't make the picture a panorama, or worse, a sphere. In the virtual space of my brain, my neurons seem limited by the physical boundaries of my eyes. I can't have all around picture-thoughts, any more than I can attach new eyes to the back of my head.
I wonder what an intelligent radial creature with all around vision would be able to think about. I'm curious what sort of philosophies they would have, and how they would be able to think in ways that we can only haphazard a guess. Just as humans tend to think in one, two, and many, with our monisms, dualisms, and our universalisms, these creatures might have skipped over the idea of one and two, and began their search for truth with infinity.
Do trees and jellyfish sense in this manner? Do they "think" in a way unique to themselves, in which the universe comes to them, from every direction, without having to chase meanings on endless and futile paths?
Is there an alien race with these characteristics, that sees our thoughts and giggles when humans have the nerve to talk about the universal truths derived from causal logic? They may chuckle and speed away in their space ships, and mock us, because after all, how can we be so blind as to not understand the truths in circular logic?
It's as if we take a funnel and attach it to our face, and filter out the majority of our immediate surroundings. This is even worse when we focus, and that funnel becomes a garden hose. Then we become one dimensional beings, traveling along a line from point A to B to C.
Even in my thoughts, I can't make the picture a panorama, or worse, a sphere. In the virtual space of my brain, my neurons seem limited by the physical boundaries of my eyes. I can't have all around picture-thoughts, any more than I can attach new eyes to the back of my head.
I wonder what an intelligent radial creature with all around vision would be able to think about. I'm curious what sort of philosophies they would have, and how they would be able to think in ways that we can only haphazard a guess. Just as humans tend to think in one, two, and many, with our monisms, dualisms, and our universalisms, these creatures might have skipped over the idea of one and two, and began their search for truth with infinity.
Do trees and jellyfish sense in this manner? Do they "think" in a way unique to themselves, in which the universe comes to them, from every direction, without having to chase meanings on endless and futile paths?
Is there an alien race with these characteristics, that sees our thoughts and giggles when humans have the nerve to talk about the universal truths derived from causal logic? They may chuckle and speed away in their space ships, and mock us, because after all, how can we be so blind as to not understand the truths in circular logic?
Monday, July 20
Alien Zookeepers
With more than 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe, with each galaxy containing 200 plus billion stars, not including the hypothesis that there are other universes parallel to our own, one would think that the universe would be brimming with alien life.
Are we the first lifeforms in our vicinity to drag ourselves out of the primordial muck (which seems egotistical and unlikely at the same time) or are we under the galactic supervision and protection of some mildly sympathetic alien race? Perhaps all of the advanced civilizations with a million year head start on technological advancement have become a certain type of god, unshackled by the earthly constraints of resources and space. They may have the ability to form energy into matter and back again at will, so have no need to fight over territory.
They might see us as we would see ants: worthy of study, but of little consequence. Until, at least, we threaten to invade their celestial home. However, we probably have millions of years to go in that direction, if we even make it there at all.
Are we the first lifeforms in our vicinity to drag ourselves out of the primordial muck (which seems egotistical and unlikely at the same time) or are we under the galactic supervision and protection of some mildly sympathetic alien race? Perhaps all of the advanced civilizations with a million year head start on technological advancement have become a certain type of god, unshackled by the earthly constraints of resources and space. They may have the ability to form energy into matter and back again at will, so have no need to fight over territory.
They might see us as we would see ants: worthy of study, but of little consequence. Until, at least, we threaten to invade their celestial home. However, we probably have millions of years to go in that direction, if we even make it there at all.
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