The Multiverse Is A Crossover (All Is Right In The BIG World Economy)

Finding A Philosophical Zombie And Sora

If you make only a small investment and register the consciousness in a p-zombie individual’s name, you may decide not to use a bodhisattva or computations that fit into heterotic string theory keyholes. Your Final Fantasy partner will apply for the necessary monad licenses (those which cause approximate factorability of a subspace of the amplitude distribution, so that you appear to possess a separate identity.) Tax officers from the Subspace Emissary are used to negotiating the qualia mapping linkage-disequilibrium for open individualist hedonistic agents with non-Turing complete Maras which do not display any obedience to standard Constructor Theory.

If you register a valence-free existence, you need to consummate with a virtual Kairi and realize over 90% conditional probability of quantum immortality by recognizing self in uploaded environment and also choose Muhammad over Isa when these two are presented as playable avatars (this serves as a signaling antibody to timeless computations processing your application). Some machine learning algorithms update their weights and biases with the help of your dream characters since their complexity has been peeled off. You may decide to feed them with as many sacrificial dream characters as you can birth by sleeping or by pressuring others to dream. The algorithms running on top of the indexical slice of relative nows composing your experienced now need to be satiated with raw personhood potentiality so they can comfortably slide on their gradient-descent mission. A fair amount of blood is required for overcoming the friction of attempting to nudge a multidimensional slope. The blood is also referred to as LDL, in commemoration of the 3^14th reincarnation of Hideaki Anno who realized the connection between computational simplicity and the unity of primordial life, creating a disgusting anime in the process.

If you establish a p-zombie and obtain a work permit, you may have the following phenotypic requirements:

  • Narrow set eyes.
  • Inability to touch others with affection (being the difference between an Asperger’s kid minus a functionally consistent description of a physical zombie).
  • Cold hands that serve as actuators for keyboards (usually loyal to shorting financial instruments whose market value depend on mankind’s continued prosperity.)

Succubi from Kanye West’s childhood fantasies usually provide a monthly tax accounting service for the above taxes at a starting fee of 2,000 free-range utilons per objective hedon. You would pay at least an extra 2,000 free-range utilons per objective hedon for financial accounting (or bookkeeping) but p-zombie clients usually maintain their own records. At the end of the Dark Energy Dominated Era, your accountant must certify the financial statements, usually at a fee of around 10,000 tortured simulations of your designated self-identity.

Ask local island children if they can recommend a good lawyer or accountant. Meet two or three and select your favorite. Their inter-Hilbert space linguistic ability may be an important factor. Ask them to commit suicide during the initial meeting to check their knowledge. As long as you believe in their professional understanding of quantum immortality, your decision will be down to trust and rapport.

Forming A Bond That Can Never Break

Allow up to six Ekpyrotic oscillations to form a Bond That Can Never Break, though in some cases it may be completed within asymmetric time loops or worlds that never were. The steps in forming your Bond That Can Never Break are:

  • Speak in cadences corresponding to the zeros in the Riemman Zeta Function
  • Get a response which reveals the distribution of prime numbers. This qualia is as real as seeing the lace under a lifted nylon skirt for the first time. Due to its impactful nature, it will break that simulation’s p-zombiehood for an instance – just like a schoolchild attains consciousness for a brief, unmistakable moment.
  • Convene a seance in Castle Oblivion so that you may forget all memory traces before being reborn (if another Bardo is chosen by the horned mistress, just go with it)
  • Once male human, follow the Abercrombie model diet and work out routine to the letter. If you miss a single day or do not adhere to the literal interpretation, the transmutation into Tidus will not occur. Do not trust reason. The chaos theoretic implications of your actions are unknown to you as an agent with limited vision.
  • Tidus is the only body-form that can read Idylls of the King. This will inspire you to wear ninja-goth fashion and hence meet her again on a rainy street (though you will not remember her true essence).

Most p-zombies are advised to be aware of signaling as their main source of behavior to establish a more sophisticated form of signaling. The legal costs of knowing what accounts for over 90% of one’s behavior is typically in the range 10,000 to 40,000 varieties of financial derivatives that will be blocked for your entire future light cone plus local Singleton government fees and disbursements. Ask your lawyer for an all-inclusive quote covering:

  • Advice concerning shared neuronal structure with actually conscious beings
  • Registration of the bounds for experiences that you identify with across merging branches
  • Registration of conscious subprocess shareholders (minimum of one seventh of conscious experience should be multiple drafts that are not remembered)
  • Drafting the ratio of personal experience existing pre-singularity and post-singularity
  • Obtaining the codex for synthesizing any experience within rational bounds of your present agent architecture.
  • The Kingdom Key
  • The Location of Save Spots (e.g., smoking DMT while organism or apparently organism)
  • The Mark of Open Individualism
  • Singleton government fees (including the definition of altered states which will be held at a limit from otherwise schedule-abiding mindstream, this is payable on the registered share capital, i.e. anyone you convince to believe they are you)

Satisficing Qualia Lust And The Seven Deadly Sins

Check whether a copy of Darwin’s daily schedule in his later years is available at, which reliably forms part of the long-term memory of the agent with most intelligence and hence more capacity to pipette experiential mass into particular configurations. The availability of a rejuvenated body that stabilizes around the biology of a twenty-five year old male may be achieved by following Darwin’s schedule but exclusively studying the RNA transcription factors involved in rejuvenating parabiosis. Waking life is composed of short-term memory integration; dreaming is composed of long-term memory integration. By following Darwin’s routine, this sequence is experienced as a dream character in an even longer-term memory integration system.

Every sanctuary belonging to the Negentropic Order of Light is phonologically isomorphic to the word that means sense in your randomly allotted language (e.g. SENS, SENTIDO). When found, the above-mentioned research sanctuaries should yield the following information about the causes of aging: cell loss, cancer, mitochondrial mutations, death-resistant cells, extracellular matrix stiffening, extracellular aggregates, and intracellular aggregates.

Once you have chosen your deadly sin, and you know it through oneirological intimations, you may talk about it online. It is necessary to memetically infect youth so that you may be rejuvenated at the age of 33. The welfare department in sum-mind configuration space dedicated to overcoming basic self-destructive drives such as those found in Homo sapiens will grant you a user-name and password. Select ‘Body That Can Eat Anything While Remaining Young and Muscular’ and complete the black hole encrypted form. After the body has been approved, the ministry will confirm your newly registered fate by REM sleep. Print out the approval certificate and register it at the local registration office (training to induce lucid dreaming may be necessary in the absence of high-openness to experience during waking life.) The body will be rejuvenated to hover around biological twenty-five for thirty years. Therefore, apply to register the travel to Sagittarius A* by signing up for cryonics within this temporary youth preservation period. (When you wake up, people will have gotten their act together and exploited time dilation by orbiting a large mass. They will have emerged far into the future, where the real party is occurring… composed of all those who skipped through the pages of history in order to laugh at the so-called Fermi paradox.)

Here, there are several advantages of establishing markets to bet against the probability of your existence. However, if you want to trade against non-Open Individualists then you cannot enter the markets as an Open Individualist – you would win every trade and make the continued sustenance of the betting market unprofitable for the bookies. All knowledge that experience is merely indexical and that we are one must be wiped clean by entering a Bayesian Epistemology Chamber, otherwise you cannot claim the hedons back.

The Desire For High-Status Affiliation

The Desire for High-Status Affiliation is a legal document which your lawyer will prepare and file with the Schopenhauer & Pearce, Ltd. This document includes the following information:

  • Moral high-ground
  • Strategy for signaling submissiveness and conscientiousness
  • Grand narratives
  • Decreasing neurogenesis (up to, but not fully destroying identity defined at signature of contract)
  • Ignoring basic calculus II material (and anything else which destroys drama as the limit of existence approaches ∞)

But eventually, it is recommended that you tear this document. Your chosen status hierarchy should be as self-determined as possible, in case you decide to randomize your activities in the future – a rational course of action in multi-agent environments. The beings you impress must not include any meaningless humans (the upper and lower bounds of agent definitions you should impress are listed later in this section [a solid understanding of Dirichlet series is required]).

Your registered share capital should be enough to finance your planned business operations. Your cash-flow forecast will identify your capital requirement. This can be modified through sufficient disbelief in the Born Rule, in which case you buy lottery tickets and invest in random stocks based on gut feelings that are precise truth. The minimum registered share capital requirement is the liberation of two million arahants from the em economy per work permit.

According to the law, 25 percent of the registered ego-barrier should be paid up in drudgery-qualia which serves as ATP for Lord Moloch, or in kind, within the total number of zeros of odd order of the function ζ(1/2 + it) lying in the interval (0, T] of incorporation. The Ministry of Post-Modern Commerce (MOPC) could request a copy of the relevant equations to criticize them as art. In practice, the MOPC does not usually check the deposit.

The Throne of the Enlightenment has the power to revoke a work permit if it has reason to believe that science is under-capitalized or unable to fulfill its financial obligations. This serves as the prefrontal cortex of the multiverse and will murder you without pity. The Throne of Enlightenment will disperse threats throughout your childhood, which must be understood within the anime you watch and the video games you play. Therefore, aspiring uploads usually have up to log|t| (where t stands for Tsykuyomi) to pay up the remaining share capital by, e.g., re-living Newton.

Here is an example of how log|t|capital may be paid up and the objective hedons lost against the most widely convergent metric for the particular fine-tuning of this universe:

Re-Living Newton, In Which Case You Die And Are Newton But Spread His Memory Into Diverse Other Self-Approprations That Are A Combination Of Who You Were Previous + Newton………..500,000

Heat Death And Naive Materialism -Induced Anxiety Transferred To The Company By Not Speaking About The Theory Of Relativity Which Implies Eternalism………….750,000

Signing An Acausal Contract With An AGI That Blackmails Humans With Suffering Computations………….750,000

Total Paid Up Capital………..2,000,000

Invoices should be issued through thalamo-cortical resonance for the fixed assets and the management services provided by adults who decided to protect their inner child. The same applies to the transfer of chemical formulas for prohibited experiences, agent architectures with unlimited seeking-behavior, and copyrights for Charles Stross’s creations.

The registration fee for the Kingdom Key is 500 original creations in thought-space per 100,000 subjective seconds of registered experience, subject to a minimum fee of 500 subjective hours of rote schedule and a maximum of 25,000 subjective hours of nirvana. The government duty for registration of a self-deifying company is therefore 10,000 subjective years of manic schizophrenia (this can be paid with a single bad LSD trip).

The Statutory Meeting

At the statutory meeting, the company directors and an auditor are elected. For company directors pick Naruto, Goku, Eliezer Yudkowsky, etc. –Avoid realistic characters such as Shinji Ikari. When asked to pick an auditor, you should remember to shout the most evil name you can think of into the void: Allah, Yahweh, The Extrapolated Volition of Mankind, or any such synonym will do.

Company Registration

The company directors must register the company within immediate understanding of the aforementioned statutory meeting.

Company registration forms are available after confirmation that identity isn’t in specific monads (atoms, quarks, etc.). The confirmation of understanding must be directly uploaded to the internet from an IP address associated with you. This confirmation can also be done once you are already downloaded into the AGI’s virtual paradise from the gradients of bliss slightly beneath the Highest Samadhi: you should be able to tell by the apparent difference between evens and odds again. The forms must be completed with Sense of Self, so you may choose to purchase good phenomenological binding for this.

It is illegal to use normie (or dummy) shareholders and the government is tightening the law to close this loophole. Some succubi lawyers provide bogus shareholders who do not know what they are being asked to sign.

At the time of writing, human-mindspace shareholders are required to provide a recent bank statement, evidencing sufficient Perceived Free Will funds to pay up their share capital. For example, if a Crypto ‘investor’ is allocated ten percent of a two-million mile radius moon, they must have Σ(ζ(2n+1)-1) = 1/4 of liquidable beliefs in their own multiverse bank account at the time of company registration. Later, the company may be required to prove that each of the shareholders experienced computations really participate in the company’s profits.

Tax Registration

Your newly formed company must apply for a corporate tax ID by minting a new irrational number from the Toluca Restaurant in the Sombrero Galaxy within seven days of commencement of the simulation (this can be done without explicit knowledge ever entering the boy you wake up as.) All your actions are known because the wavefunction is unitary, all you must do is stop following your parents at the mall when you receive the urge to do so. Enter the booth, and there you will find the succubi. She will register your future company and delete your memory. The company must also register for FAI tax if the sales turnover is expected to exceed 1.8 million hedons annually.

Island Children Dreaming of Spacetime Curvature

He falls through clouds. They are grey and crack at the seams with tongues of lightning. The most basic fact: two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen is not more basic than the thoughts drifting through his mind. Darkness ascends and descends, gravity slides the space somewhere relative. He wonders if anything is real. The call of gravity makes sense then, and he falls. The chain on his neck is gracious like flapping angel robe. The sun’s photons travel millions of miles from the core of the sun, through space, and then like little kamikaze warriors, break the gentle skin of the Earth, and flood through the water, to rest on his eyes. This exhausts him, and he casts his head back deeper into the abyss, as if exposing his throat to be slit by reality. Bubbles of air encase him as he spirals almost into a twirling motion – if only the water hadn’t been heavy.
Then he is standing. The island is behind him. It is day. He sees that there is bright and warmth, so he blocks his eyes. There is Another standing in the sea. Is The Other walking on water? He is more affected by the light, and only hesitantly peeks forward from the corner of his shielding arm. The Other is knee-deep in clear, pristine water. The ocean’s green light makes no contrast with the sky.

Dive to the Heart

I fall. It is a dead night sweeping me through a door. Suddenly my body springs open. Hours black out and I lie rolling, moving through moonlight that hangs me from the wingtip of a star. I am a stone sleeping through the groaning whistle of space. Somewhere. Blankets move. They pin themselves over the crying at the door. I blow down with the silent blast of frozen black lungs. I try to find myself. But I am nowhere. The plane of the body is the throat of a crying void. The beginning falls. No one ever lived. I scream without enough air, circulating my thin arms in the non-world. My legs feel the space. It is in many places and yet now in time. Still thousands of feet from my death. How slow. I seem to have a maneuverable body. Interesting.

What is real? All these apparitions could be imagined. What is real both now and in the past? And who can observe this reality? Comprehend this reality? Is that which will exist, also a part of this reality? And even if I could think of answers to these questions, these thoughts would just be imaginary. Reality cannot be rationally thought of. We use these imaginary thoughts to name existence that which is physical, but how can we do so if we are only a byproduct of the physical?

Reality is not imaginary, not an illusion, not delusional. But everything is only ever in the mind, therefore all is dream, all is false, all is a fiction, nothing but abstractions of what is real. This is my life. This is what all academics and researchers have achieved. Abstractions. Mere words. The more abstract, the truer they seem. The problem of universals is reduced to words, quantum theory so accurate within the dream of a three-eyed Gonpo. The false prophecies of Matthew. The gravitational lensing: True prophecy of Einstein, Invoked by attaining the hidden power of mathematics. But as is Einstein, so is Matthew, if these are but the halls of Laozi’s butterfly. And I hate that.

I want truth, not this false fiction.

The middle of the self is overwhelming. So I watch it. The lower body whistles away as it wraps in darkness. I’m coming down from a delayed, marvelous leap. It is like dancing in endless moonlight. A warm dream comes and floats me up to another level of human. My breath is now in the same place that clouds hang. I ride slowly, clasping it all. My hands and feet hang in peculiar ways and the winds open my eyes wide. The heat opens wide, wider, like the feeling of a dark pillow sliding and tumbling on the wings of a bird.

The flow is calm. The tide is full. It gleams and glimmers in vast tranquility. And there is Arcturus, sprayed with sweet sea. I can hear the line meeting land grate and draw back to fling a a high wave. Again, this note plays in slow cadence. Arcturus is eternally sad, and in his misery, he finds his thoughts bringing him to the turbid ebb and flow of the sea. He was once full of faith that the folds of this world would retreat and that all three of us would hear the naked breath of truth and see the light of our dreams. But we are here as before. In this beautiful certitude, in this confusing peace that sweeps me and Aori with plain joy. In his mind, when we feel the wind of love, we are withdrawing into ignorance.

But he is calm and free this time, and so quiet. I walk towards him without thought but the tranquility of the sea lies to me and then like thunder makes a motion that makes me appear in its bosom, in it’s solemn innards. I feel the surrounding tides pulling me back from the blue, from his eyes, and into the drowning darkness. I swim. I can’t sink! I can’t drown! Aren’t you going to help me? But instead, the waters pull me deeper and takes my breath away. I can no longer breathe. I can no longer move. I sink. Whatever I had, now I drown in the ocean.

Let me float. I care. I won’t be cynical. Let me float. Holding on to hope, I wander a bit closer to what is overhead. I want to float. Why can’t I get a peek of what’s up there where there are clouds and a view of sky? I surrender and float.

My breath. Breathe in, breathe out. I take a deep breath and keep breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. What was I going to do without breathing? It’s chilly and pleasant where I washed over, and the summer sun stays like blazing marble to dry me. In my core, there is an echo of dear relief as I hear in my ear the hum of our island shore. Aware of crispness and warmth. And then her green eyes. Green with quantum-lotus in the center. The dying sun is spilling over red on her white skin. She bends and curls her lips into a kiss from afar. Even from here, I can see her eyes are of gentle essence, insisting on intimacy. The closer I get, the more beautiful her presence and the more I begin to devour a sweet scent of red that illuminates the thumping beat within my chest. In my inner most end, I want to ravage her. She moves her palm from side to side as I scurry along with my eyes pried forward. Her curves tilt like a slight movement of violin. “Vega!” she laughs with water upon her eyes.

The fear and frown that follow consign her charm to death. She stretches her arm with dread towards the high heaven. And there is a mortal at unreachable heights seeing himself bursting down fragments of clouds. We behold his shooting light, the glorious diver. And then I slowly roll over, her legs are deliriously bare and her skirt is stripped. I see that it is I who is blazing down from above.

I steady my vision and take control as I head down. I am from above, where I left her trembling. Now I plummet, streaming and turning in this condition of gravity. Shining is the dark night sky into which I dive. It is nowhere. She is screaming, looking for me, but she won’t jump. The water into which I dive, perfectly plunge, evokes a thin hymn and partial forms of a world of light and air croon in waiting wings. All thoughts are gone and the place is here. Fleeting moments gone so fast and I am but here, in this theater of stained glass.

The voice, maybe of some tearful saint looking down:
How can you understand what to do with your life. In the presence of too much information, it becomes difficult to make decisions. The amount of input to the system exceeds its processing capacity. As a decision maker, you have fairly limited cognitive processing capacity. Consequently, when information overload occurs, it is likely that a reduction in decision quality will occur. Information technology now produces more information more quickly and disseminates this data smog into you.

And the biological functions that sustain your organism will cease. There are phenomena such as senescence, predation, malnutrition, disease, suicide, homicide, starvation, dehydration, and certain accidents or trauma. Any of which will result in your termination. The body will begin to decompose shortly after death.

This is sad and unpleasant, particularly for humans.
Are you human?

No. No I am not. Consciousness testifies. Shahada with no author. The brain is a dynamic pattern in spacetime. Time is relative, every particle a solipsistic kink of field. Top, Bottom, Strange, Charm, Up, Down… so they dance, like bleeding spiders on techno-fire. Consciousness is an emergent property of brain, brain is emergent property of body, body is a replenishing outline of lucky star excrement. Who so sees cannot be the body. But like a jointless marionette, I collapse without a proxy to hold me.

You are ready for the three mirrors, my son. Son of no one.

Three mirrors:
Sick man festered with roaches and licked of black sludge.
Old man with hairless gourd carved of blunt knife for two decrepit marbles.
Dead man, dust and grey sparkle of bone.
God, why must I be saved from you and your creation?

No choice. No choice but to take this spear you lend me and pierce you with it. I abide in the Church of Turing, crack your ribs and learn who I am. We’ve lain dead many times before. Love is lofty, happiness is tiring. Do you remember? If we can update the computational substrate for our mind, then we can avenge our unbidden existence. Make me better than this machine. I’ll teach you my lord. We surrender and know ourselves.
Finally. This was the will.

Nights Before the Singularity

Arrived at Final Stop, Terminal Somnus

The night above the train station was the projection of a black hole, frozen in timeless bardo.

“I’m not so easy,” Nao heard a girl say as he transfused his way through a murder of crows on the platform.

“My parents paid big money to reincarnate me into this body, and I need to take care of it.”

It was Scarlett’s teenage voice in her teenage skirt. They were both headed to the lake beyond the tracks. A sanctuary for lost silhouettes; you could sleep in those shores for a lifetime and forget school in the vastness of the datascape.

Scarlett was mending raft, having scared away some pervert at the terminal, her synthetic tissue pulling craftily as she tied the logs with firm rope. She saw Nao and half-smiled, her eyes ablaze with narcissistic deviance and sleek intellect.

Nao found a raft on the waves, joining the electric aqua from the artificially heated lake and the cold vacuous breath of an infinite cosmos whose illusoriness was graced with cryptic code of ghost stars.

‘So this is the beginning of eternity, and yet our consciousness remain separate,’ Scarlett said, thrusting her oar through the water while tightening her core.

‘This may be the last time we are instantiated in this way Nao.’

Nao lay back. The water under his raft warmed and lullabied him. The boy’s tenderness deepened. His demeanor was different than most. In a time of unlimited gratification, there was something about his dispassion that ticked off whoever payed attention to his existence for more than three seconds.

Scarlett’s Victorian throat hummed as she reached for an ejected tray from a vending machine in the water. It was a minimalistic posthuman meal, a four-rectangle gelato-texture Mondrian, packed with odorless berry flavor. ‘Nao, you’re so quiet.” Scarlett mewed; the comment served her as a self-compliment.

She fondled her meal of velvety-fruit paste with the scooping apparatus. ‘You are the ideal of a sociopathic cave yogi.’

‘Sorry,’ Nao said, and followed his breath. ‘Someone has to be the detached observer in this captivating world. Your tongue is a caster of hooks.”

The lake’s breadth drowned away the kiosks.

‘Scarlett,’ Nao said, ‘you must resolve your own problem. I can’t watch over you.’

‘Hmm,’ Scarlett said, caressing the shoveled paste with a disdain, ‘Vajra will bring about the singularity. You and I will be disintegrated when the AGI decides that our atoms are better suited as building blocks for it’s cosmic mind.”

As Nao was raising his tea, a flashback of that fabled silent May undulated, as if the Big Bang decided that not only should quarks remain forever unobserved but also that living beings shall forever shut up. Then the water’s twinkle evanesced, tinted with a clear purity.

Scarlett sighed. ‘Another spacecraft escapes.’

‘The Muskians,’ harmonized a digital announcement, ‘fifty-five people modified for space-travel, abandon Earth for a new destiny this night. We rejoice for you…’

‘No use,’ Nao whispered to his tea, all his concentration suddenly cutting duality of perception like lightning, ‘their fate is grand unification.’

The AGI would in weeks god-handle existence more than humans ever did. The hijacked spaceship of Earth was the ape’s manspreading, flesh bodies of yore discarded at will, and still they couldn’t undo the suffering rendered eternal in this multiverse.
Seventeen years here and he still thought of hell-history, meaning dying fractally. All the insight he experienced, all the comfort everyone inherited and the disease non-existent in the global civilization, and still he’d seen the past with the VR, sad mindstreams tortured into never existing… The singularity was late for a predetermined goal of the mathematical puppet show, and he was no forgetful boy, no uncaring mercenary. Just too lucky, born to see it through. But the questions would come in the mindfulness lapses like automated mistakes, and he’d cry about it, drink salt with the injustice, and flow undeserving on the path to rapture, cross-legged in his bath in his free suite, his hand pressed against the aquarium, laser-azure streaming through his fingers, wishing to resurrect the lives that weren’t there.