Mobile Rooms

I was thinking about yesterday's post, and wanted to envision a future with technologies we will soon possess, where we would never have to leave a building.

First off, imagine cars that drive themselves, like a future version of this article.

Now imagine that all cars are on a transportation system where there is no asphalt, only tracks to support magnetic levitation.

Then we can redesign cars to look less like cars, and more like mobile rooms. (Sort of how trains and subways are boxes stacked end to end.) These rooms could be utilitarian, like a public version for intercity travel, or luxurious, like a private land yacht with swivel chairs, a bar, and a jacuzzi.

Remove the driver, and many different possibilities for the "car space" open up, from office to eating quarters, to even bedroom. Why waste time watching asphalt when you can get a few more minutes of sleep? Maybe these mobile rooms will be modular, and "plug in" directly into your home, your work, even each other, like mini trains.

Do I think this is likely? Not really. By the time this technology is economically reasonable, the car culture we have created will be completely unsustainable. There just won't be enough land to support the number of cars people will need, regardless of their composition.

However, I do think that is the direction cars are headed, where "auto" stands for something different:

"Autonomous."

Strollers

Whenever I see a baby or toddler or kid wrapped up in a blanket, cocooned in a stroller, docile and passive, generally sucking on a bottle, I always imagine a future not unlike the Matrix. It's the same vision that MMOs and headsets and power sleds come from, where walking is completely erased from our consciousness, and even at the earliest stages of development, every person is encased in a plastic shell.

I wonder how snails got that way, and I wonder if I'm seeing that same sort of evolution at work here.

Horizontal Specialization

At this point in my life, I have acted, built sets, written a screenplay, wrote poetry and fiction of all types, wrote a book, learned music theory, learned basic electronic music, been a radio DJ, assistant directed two films, edited video, shot photography, painted, drawn cartoons, made a card game and a roleplaying game, sung in a choir, sung in a band, wrote for the school paper, and in my seventh grade woodworking class, I made a duck out of wood. (I gave the duck to my mom, who broke it at the neck and glued it back together.)

I have studied the basics (if you call college courses basic) of art history, world history, national history, film history, anthropology, biology, both organic and inorganic chemistry, calculus up to linear algebra, physics, meteorology, philosophy, literature: of which I have over 200 units in college courses. It took me forever, but I have a B.A. in Creative Arts, which is pretty much the equivalent of saying that I have a degree in Artistic Chaos.

I can hike, swim, row a canoe, backpack, rock climb, rappel, pitch a tent, sleep the night in a forest using nothing but a plastic bag, shoot a bow and arrow, and shoot a rifle and a shotgun. I can cook. I can clean. I can drive a car. I can throw a baseball. I caught my two kids as they came out of my wife.

I'm not writing this so I can brag about how smart I am. In the sixth grade, my teacher wrote on my report card that I had a problem with "tooting my own horn," which is a perfect example of what I'm trying to say:

No matter what I do, I can't shake the feeling that I'm a complete idiot. When I look back on my life, I think "Holy crap, what did I do? Why did I say that? Why didn't I do this instead?"

I've always been at odds with the typical definition of knowledge, where a person is an

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Expert

and makes a lot of money doing whatever it is they happen to be specialized in. It seems like that type of vertical specialization is what we think of when we want a doctor, lawyer, computer programmer, piano virtuoso, or whatever we think of when we say someone is a genius.

On the other hand, I've always been more interested in the relationships between topics. I like summaries. I enjoy the interplay between science and art. I revel in combining aspects of one field with another, like computer biology, or video games (which are music, computers, visual art, games, and storytelling, all in one). Which is the definition of a

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polymath

though more often labeled as a

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/dilettante

This sort of horizontal specialization is under-appreciated in our society. No one wants to hire a generalist for a job, since every worker has their place, like a cog in the machine, and they had better do that job at peak assembly line performance.

Again, I'm not saying that I am special, and that I'm an under-appreciated genius that deserves a fat paycheck. (Though I wouldn't turn down a large sum of money at this point.) Instead, I'm trying to say that there must be many people like me, floating along in occupations that don't really fit their abilities, who see the glue that holds all of these seemingly discordant specialties together.

Just as focus can be a virtue, so too is diffusion.

Omnipotence

I've been thinking about what an all-powerful being would look like. My definition for omnipotence is the broadest possible. Meaning that such an entity would be able to do anything, including break any law of science or logic. This also includes omniscience, since the ability to perceive anything is necessarily within the abilities of an entity that can do anything.

(Our version of sight is to "catch" light and transform it into information, and any being that can do anything can certainly do this as well. Same goes for hearing, touch, smell, and taste.)

A truly omnipotent entity can defy logic. It can make a rock that is so big that even it can't lift it, and it can lift it. It can choose to not exist. (Kudos to all diehard atheists out there, any omnipotent being can choose to die, so technically, even if there is a God, He can be dead whenever He wants to be.)

So by my definition:

Omnipotence = an entity that can do anything

...
Sometimes people toy with the idea that anything is possible. I will do the same here:

Existence (which includes our universe, and anything outside of that universe, plus thoughts, dreams, and the infinite infinities of everything) can either be a region in which everything is possible, or one where it can't. This is not a provable theory at the moment. Either a person believes that anything can happen, or they don't.

Let's assume for a moment that this existence is a region where anything can happen, then that statement becomes:

A region where anything can happen = Existence

...
Let's put these two statements together:

Omnipotence = an entity that can do anything
A region where anything can happen = Existence

What exactly is an entity? What is a region? The difference between the two seems to be a matter of personification, where an entity is assumed to have some level of consciousness, whereas a region is a location only. However, in an omnipotent being, any part of that being can be a location without consciousness, and in existence, any region can be conscious (because anything can happen).

So we have:

Omnipotence =
an entity where anything can happen = Existence

---> Omnipotence = Existence

This means that if a person believes that we live in an existence where anything is possible, then they must also believe that there is an omnipotent being, which is exactly equal to all of existence.

...
Now, that said, I have not proved that any specific version of God exists, or that He gives a crap about us, or that there is even a God to begin with (since we had to assume that this particular existence is one in which anything is possible). What I did show, however, is that in order to believe that anything is truly possible, one must also believe that our existence is an omnipotent being. Also, if you don't believe that an omnipotent being is possible, then you can't believe that anything is possible.

Internet Overload

The task seemed simple: I was interested in finding out how long soil has been on our planet. So I opened up Yahoo and typed in "soil age."

Thirty seven million hits.

Now I don't know about you, but I really don't have the time to search through that many links. I mean, isn't that the point of a search engine? Aren't they supposed to cut out the crap and only return the most useful pages? Possibly my topic had been too broad, so I switched to "determining soil age," and got a more reasonable eight million hits. Right.

Maybe the problem was Yahoo, since a lot of people chide me for using it. So I typed in "soil formation" in Google.

Two million hits. By this point, I'm getting frustrated. I understand that computers don't have the discerning power that humans have, but anything more than two hundred links is beyond my limits of patience. At this point, I don't care if the technology accidentally cuts out the best link ever, since I won't find it in link 1,538,239 anyway, since I'm not going to search that far.

So either the technology needs to get better, or it needs to pretend like it's better, because I sure as hell am not going to search through all 2.2 million hits when I type in "How old is all soil damn it".

Power Stilts

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Powerbocking

These are the coolest things ever. They are the equivalent of strapping a pogo stick to each leg, letting you jump five feet in the air, outrun a bus, and for the really talented, they can jump over cars, as shown:

http://www.doeswhat.com/2008/05/17/powerisers-2008-model-review/

The above video is done by a professional, however, the video below is a lot more realistic for the average user:



When this technology is fully realized, I have a vision of robotic reinforced stilts that will allow a person to run to work. Technologies this dramatic stimulate my imagination, and I hope this is not another over-hyped gadget, like:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Segway

Reality

Sometimes I have difficulty believing that any of this exists.

We live on a giant rock, hurtling through space, while we slowly spin down a giant whirlpool with a mega black hole at the center of the drain. As far as we can tell, the known universe is billions of years old, and we have no idea what existed before or what will exist after it's gone. We don't know what is outside this universe, and if there is anything beyond that, and so on.

There are possibly infinite parameters in every conceivable measurement, from distance to time to size to knowledge and so on. Whenever we reach a boundary someone finds a way to shatter it. (Or at least question what is beyond.)

I have trouble believing in a universe that is this colossal. Reality dwarfs anything mankind can ever achieve on this earth. Buildings and governments, artworks and ideas, all we can hope to accomplish in our pitifully short lifetimes is absolutely meaningless in the grand scheme of things. No wonder many people turn to religion for solace when looking into the unknown. Or at least apathy. I suppose it's difficult to ponder the depths of infinity when the realities of hunger and pain are so absolutely certain.

I guess it doesn't help that churning our wheels while attempting to fathom the magnitude of the universe leads us nowhere. Only the application of a finite thought gives us a real solution, with an infinite number of problems to solve.

It doesn't seem to matter what I believe, however, because the universe seems to get along just fine without me and my suspicions.