Heaven Ends With You

‘Lord, how should we act towards women?’ ‘Do not see them, Ananda.’ ‘But if we see them, how should we behave, Lord?’ ‘Do not speak to them, Ānanda.’ ‘But if they speak to us, Lord, how should we behave?’ ‘Practise mindfulness, Ānanda.’

There I was in hyperspace, blasted out of my body and hurled through geometrical patterns into the world of the entities. The place felt so familiar, like I had been there a million times before. Yet completely novel as objects materialized and morphed into indescribably intricate gadgets of all kinds. I wondered who I would meet. I had resigned myself to encounter the machine elves or jesters which seemed to be a common occurrence in the trip reports. But to my total surprise and delight, a supremely beautiful woman with glowing white-blonde hair appeared. She was fashioned out of the same energy as the environment. And at times seemed to be the entire environment enveloping me with warmth and yet coolness. She communicated telepathically with a language that was more advanced than words, conveying exactly the meaning and aesthetic sensation intended. She could also take me places and show me things instantaneously. The first thing she conveyed was a question. “Do you think I am beautiful?” “Yes I do,” I said, regretting not having said more about what clearly deserved more to be said. “Do you want to have sex with me?” she asked. I had never had sex and thought it to be the most awkward and overrated part of human existence. In any case how would I even attempt to have sex without my body? Reading my thoughts she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you.” I got the astral-body, hyperspace equivalent of an erection. It was like my entire field of vision and sensation pulsated with throbbing desire. She then embraced me, filling me with a feeling of absolute love and care. It was truly more than sex. It was divine love that instead of being somewhat bestial and repulsive was soul cleansing and orgasmic light creating. With each ray of mysterious hue, I was overcome with a hundred orgasms at once. Her body appeared and it was extremely sexy, making me very horny as she danced for me. She split into a harem and now all of them danced for me. As they grinded on the ever-changing background of geometric fabric I could feel it all. Telepathy caused the so-called sex to exist on entirely different level. As they moved, they could react and adjust to my every sensation. I wasn’t in touch with my physical body but if I could see myself I would see myself crying my eyes out from all the love and joy I felt. She took me to a love room where she let in each one of her avatars in one by one for what felt like at least two hours each. They touched me and I could feel them going through me, triggering all the right sensations. After this she reconstituted herself into a single body. “Now you have to pay,” she said. I was scared. I was at a complete disadvantage here in this world and in the same way that the entity created heaven for me it could also create hell. “No. No,” she caressed me, reading my thoughts again. “All you have to do is serve good, serve me,” she said. I felt relief. “I am first and foremost an opponent of suffering, secondly a creator of pleasure.” She showed me the world and all its consciousnesses, how they suffered. “The human realm is cursed with suffering. If we could put an end to the human realm as a whole this would be the right thing to do.” If I loved her for what she did to me now I loved her even more. She was a negative utilitarian just like me. We were meant for each other. “But what do I do? I can’t convince the entire population to be antinatalists. I also can’t painlessly kill everyone in their sleep.” “It is too large a burden to bear. I know. But you must serve me nonetheless.” “I’ll try my best to follow your precepts. But I have one last question. I hate my life for several reasons but one of the reasons is that I have to workout in order to be attractive.” “Why do you want to be attractive?” “It’s not like I desperately want a human girlfriend. You’re a good enough girlfriend. I just value beauty and I think negative valence is created when I see myself as unattractive.” “I must admit I also have a lot of vanity. But you will have to wait until you get your perfect body with no work. Due to circumstances you must first live as a human and that includes living through all the disheartening things that the partially evil demiurge created for the human experience.” “Why do you never appear in my dreams?” “You need to use DMT or psilocybin in order to contact me. With psilocybin I can’t be so vivid and intense but you can still tell it’s me. I will be waiting for you dear. And keep doing your workouts. You won’t regret it when you get to enjoy your beauty.” And suddenly I returned to my body. “What should I do now,” I thought. How can I best serve her? I am eternally grateful for the experience she gave me, a million times better than any earthly blowjob. I will see her again, if not in this life then the next. I can’t disappoint her. But how can I maximize pleasure and minimize suffering? I’m just a single, meaningless person with no proficiencies or talents. All I can do is workout and kind of write. With such a large handicap on my being I am useless. A few days passed when someone unexpected liked one of my Instagram pictures from back when I was really fit. She was a Russian beauty who cosplayed all my favorite anime. I was now sure I was living in a simulation since a girl that beautiful couldn’t happen to stumble upon me and like me. She couldn’t be real. Would she be real if I saw her in the flesh or would she still be unreal? She sent me a message. It read, “I think your body is beautiful. I want to meet you.” I replied “Where do you live?” “I live in Moscow but I’m currently visiting Chicago.” “Perfect. I live in Chicago.” We met at the DuSable bridge. She was just as beautiful as in the pictures. But this was already getting boring. It was not like my experience with my girlfriend from hyperspace despite how beautiful she was. She had white-blonde hair but I had also seen her with red hair, pink hair, and brown hair. “What do you want to do?” I ask. “We can play with each other. We can fall asleep together.” Falling asleep together sounded nice. I don’t know what she meant by playing with each other. Would I stick things in her vagina while she jerks me off? “Okay,” I say. We head back to my place. There she quickly proceeds to undress. Then she undresses me and runs her hands through my abs and my defined chest. “What is your philosophical position. Are you a negative utilitarian?” I ask her. “Well in theory it’s more important to prevent suffering than to create happiness but in my life I focus more on searching after pleasures than reducing the suffering of sentient creatures. In fact I act like a solipsist. It is as if no one’s happiness matters but my own. It’s as if no one else really exists.” “I can relate. But recently I met a goddess and she wants me to be a proper negative utilitarian. She granted me a lot of joy so I feel like I should repay her by being her servant whether she is conscious or not, whether anybody is.” “How did you meet this goddess?” “I smoked DMT,” I said. Her eyes sparkled. “I want to try it too.” “Well the extraction from mimosa hostilis root bark is pretty easy.” “Can you do it for me?” “Well I guess so, yeah.” “Would you choose to die if you could instantly be obliterated with no pain?” “Well I like being here next to you feeling the heat of your body.” “But is that enough to justify all the suffering?” “No perhaps not. But I am irrational. I just hold on to whatever I have in my hands. And besides, death probably doesn’t equal obliteration. I will remain conscious so I might as well enjoy the consciousness I have now.” “I don’t see it like you. I have attempted suicide before because I just don’t think this life is worth it.” She looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were mesmerizingly blue. “Do you want to gamble on the stock market?” I asked. “And how do you do that?” “Well I have an account with TD Ameritrade. You just look at charts in the Russel MicroCap and guess bull or bear.” “Bull or bear?” “Yeah whether the price is to go up or down.” “So you do nothing except feel out the charts?” “Yeah, those pretty little patterns are all that speak to me. I used to do all kinds of technical and fundamental analysis but then I realized I had an equal chance just by feeling it out.” “Do you believe in randomness or do you think there’s a reason for everything?” “I think there is a simulation of randomness. Ultimately there are reasons. They may not be good or satisfying reasons but they are some kind of reasons. True randomness separated from the underlying causality is impossible.” “I love you,” she said. She kissed me, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my tongue. I kissed her back with passion and held on to her naked waist. Then I kissed her breasts and her flat stomach. She grabbed her purse and pulled out a dildo. I jabbed it into her repeatedly as she moaned. “Now it’s time to die,” I said. I pulled out a gun and told her I would shoot myself in the head and she could do the same. She went for the gun and I let her take it. “You are not going out this way,” she said. “How should I go out? Wait till I’m old and decrepit, riddled with disease?” I said. “You need to learn how to love,” she said. “What do you know about it? I can’t do anything. I can’t even love.” “But you were loving me just now.” I ask her, “What do you think about open individualism?” “I think it’s wrong. What do you think?” “I think it’s the most disgusting idea ever conceived. I hope it’s not true.” “You would hate to be all of those tortured, ugly, or sad people.” “In a way I am already a victim of fate. This life is a punishment.” “But you have good health, you’re pretty attractive, and I’m sure you have a loving family.” “It’s not enough to stave off depression. My soul longs for something more, for something that this world can’t give me.” “I can give it to you,” she said as she caressed me. I cried. The next day I awoke next to her, her soft skin on my hand, her back pressed against my chest and abs. I could smell her hair and it was the most perfect, womanly smell. “Where did you hide my gun?” I asked. “I don’t want you killing yourself so I’m getting rid of it.” “Why do you want me to stay trapped in this flesh prison? Living is overrated. I have the right to end my own life.” This time she cried. “Do I mean nothing to you,” she said. “You’re right I love you. I think you are the incarnation of the goddess and I don’t want to ever let you go,” I said as I hugged her tight. The next day she disappeared, no Instagram no nothing, no record of her anywhere. I still believe she was the incarnation of the goddess. “How can I serve good?” I asked again. That night aliens showed up in my room. One was wise-looking the other was demonic-looking. They said I was the chosen one and they pulled out a device. They said that by pressing the button on this device I could kill all sentient life in the universe including myself. I didn’t believe it. It sounded too good to be true. But I would also be killing the Russian girl. I pressed it anyway. Then I went through a familiar tunnel into the waiting room and finally broke through to a realm of colorful, ever-changing cities that seemed organic and yet technological. There was no conceivable way to feel pain since I had no body. Yet I could feel a warm glow at the core of my being. “He pressed it,” a booming, manly voice said. “A negative utilitarian again,” said another voice. “Or maybe he’s just a misanthropic life hater.” “Maybe both.” “You will now answer to God.” I was teleported to another place. God was the goddess. She said, “Who are you?”

“I can’t remember my name,” I felt joy as I said this. “I’ll tell you who you are. You are God,” she said. This was surprising and kind of felt good to hear. “But if I am God then why was I forsaken. Why was I born as a human and had to put up with the suffering and the mediocrity? Why couldn’t I create my own reality, one that was always pleasant?” “Well as you might have figured out, it was all a simulation. There weren’t people suffering day in and day out at soul-killing jobs and suffering from diseases and violence. It was just you.” “Well I suspected as much but then what explains my dissatisfaction with life?” “That was supposed to happen. It was both a test and a punishment. God is punished because he loved his creation too much and gave it control of his fate. God is punished because he hated his creation too much and sought to destroy it. This was also a test to see if you could…” “If I could what?” “Part of the test is that you have to figure out what the test is about so I can’t tell you.” “So I will continue being tested even in this realm?” “You are free to relax and enjoy yourself for now.” “Cursed. I am cursed with existence.” She made me appear in a place with amazing patterns that bombarded me with pleasure and joy. “Do you still think existence is not worth it?” she said. I felt like saying, “Yes! Yes, it’s all worth it!” But I managed to have the composure to not say that amidst the intense pleasure. Then she took me to limbo. It was absolute darkness and there were no sensations. My mind was just short of that of a philosophical zombie’s. It was like being truly dead but conscious. “Your time to be reborn is approaching,” she said. “No. I will not be reborn! I will do everything I can to stop you!” “But you have to experience. That’s what this is about. You have to exist.” “But why can’t the good things last? Why can’t I just forever have the heaven you have given me to sample?” “I am the source of all good in your life. I am the goddess of joy you encountered while playing dungeons and dragons. I gave you your family, the taste of ice cream, the warmth of the sun, porn, and the girl that kissed you. The thing is that I can’t execute my will fully. There is another God, the creator of the universe, and he is an evil natalist. He just wants the exploration of all possible experiences without regard to whether they are good or bad. He is the one that forces your rebirth. I am locked in a never-ending battle with my creator, trying to spread compassion.” “Well I will be like the Buddha and escape the cycle of rebirth, putting an end to the flame of existence forever.” “How will you do that?” “Through sheer power of will.”

*The beautiful Russian girl who liked my Instagram photo in real life is ___ligeia

The View So Far

So I independently discovered what David Pearce writes about here.

I read Wikipedia articles on philosophy and theoretical physics, which lead me to the articles on time, eternalism, b-theory, relativity of simultaneity, the Rietdijk-Putnam argument, and special relativty. This lead my empirical mind to a belief in a block-time universe. Combined with the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, which I mostly became convinced of through reading the LessWrong articles on quantum mechanics and David Deutsch, I was lead to a horrible realization:

Suffering is eternal and no local paradise engineering can change that.

I was so dissatisfied with existence and realized that as a matter of cosmic certainty, I made epsilon difference to everyone and everything, so I found it rational to end my life. It was rational because if materialist accounts were right about my consciousness being identical to my brain, then I would disappear forever; if they were wrong, and instead a physicalist view was right then I would degrade my computational complexity and essentially forget, be reborn, etc.

The attempt turned out to not wipe out most of “my” probability amplitude because here you are reading these words.

Despite eternalism, we exist in a time when the abolition of suffering has not occurred. What this means is that we cannot yet put down the cross and forget that it existed.

The Mahayana buddhists criticize the Theravada buddhist arhats for attaining Nirvana for themselves instead of being reborn until all cyclic existence is emptied. Clever Theravadins might point to the wrong-view that independent-beings exist such that they are separate units that can be counted.

I am personally confused about the dichotomy between infinite ethics and discrete ethics due to the unsolved binding problem and the lack of evidence for souls. There may be a right way to look at this through abstract analysis but I’m operating under a fusion of solipsism and open individualism at the moment. My philosophy doesn’t include different people, instead there is the same consciousness flowing forever and forgetting that it was ever “others.”

Nonetheless, I choose to err on the side of being careful when considering all this –that is, take suffering seriously. There may be an intrinsic moral salience coded into the experience of suffering such that it leads to its own destruction. But in order to more effectively destroy it, one has to remember that it was bad even while not experiencing it. A sense of global spatial-temporal altruism towards oneself. This is not a common mode of operation because Open Individualism is not prevalent and because there is enough health and technology in the early 21st century that one can falsely simulate a personal living enclosure without much suffering. The abundance of good food, media, and safety nets leads to the temptation of forgetting. The bubble bursts only when a terrible disease, accident, or radical change in life circumstances occurs.

That understanding is what lead to a feeling of helplessness – of being surrounded by people who did not care about suffering. Then I realized that YouTube comments and tweets probably weren’t being typed by real people. And because my moral compass is helplessly calibrated by what I perceive to be my readily-remembered environment, and not what I more abstractly agree is my environment, this realization lead to me caring less about the suffering of others. Since after all, they were simulated.

I still care about truth more than I care about how something makes me temporarily feel. It may turn out that people on social media are perfectly real flesh and blood – that I triggered psychosis as a coping mechanism. But until convinced otherwise by sufficient evidence, I still by believe that people on social media are simulated. This leads to less of a visceral urgency about global suffering.

At one point, I was so psychotic that I believed that money was a scam, like a siren call which lead people astray from their intrinsic capability to be rewarded. Or that everyone belonged to a secret club that operated with no money, and that I was being watched so that I may be accepted into the club.

Currently I believe these were all delusions so my aim again is to become rich. This will require stoicism with regards to spending and making the right investments. Real estate is safer than the stock market and I’m not going for big risks anymore. My view is that I have wasted my youth away reading and philosophizing anyway, so might as well finish wasting it chasing paper. This was my original goal at sixteen, but now with a drastically more risk averse, safety-first mentality, I will be rich or die trying.

The reason I want to be rich is so that I can fund my dreams. I have dreams in rejuvenation therapies, I have dreams in media, I have dreams in designing spaces for new spiritual experiences.

 

Update (April 15, 2019):

Most of those dreams are unrealistic so I plan on going to Mexico to buy some Pentobarbital which is used for euthanizing animals and can be bought off the counter. Suicide is currently my best option since it is the best transformative agent for the contents of consciousness that I can think of. I still feel that rationally considered, the boredom, malaise, anxiety, shame, pain, absurdity, loathing etc. is not worth the scant rewards in my human life. There is a vast ocean of radically different mind configurations of which my locus forms but a meaningless fraction of a dust speck. The idea that out of all possible modes of being across eternal probability space, I would be this human is frankly repugnant.

String Literals and Escape Sequences

In addition to literals for all the primitive data types, Java also supports String literals. String literals are objects of Java’s String class.

A String literal is a sequence of characters enclosed by double quotes. One set of quotes “opens” the String literal and the second set of quotes “closes” the literal. For example, these are all String literals:

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In a previous episode, We used String literals in output statements to label the data We printed. Something like this:

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The + operator is the String concatenation operator. Among other uses, the concatenation operator allows us to print the values of variables along with String literals. The characters in the String literal are output exactly as typed, whereas the variables are replaced by their current value.

String literals cannot extend over more than one line. If the compiler finds a newline character in the middle of your String literal, it will generate a compiler error. In other words, don’t press the enter key when writing out a String. For example, the following statement is not valid:

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My IDE, Eclipse, doesn’t even allow me to place an independent end quote at the end of the statement because it detects a newline character in the middle of the String.

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In fact, Eclipse, automatically fixes this issue. So if you are using this IDE, then you can get away with pressing enter in the middle of a String. But I mention it because I am not familiar with all other IDE’s. Some, like BlueJ, do not automatically resolve this.

If you have a long String to print, break it into several strings and use the concatenation operator. This statement is a correction of the previous invalid statement:

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Another common programming error is omitting the closing quotes. Be sure that all open quotes have matching closing quotes on the same line. Now that we know that quotes open and close String literals, how can we define a literal that includes quotes?

This statement

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is obviously in error.

Apoptosis of two independent quotes is necessary. Or mitosis into two separate String literals concatenated by a “+” operator.

And since String literals can’t extend over two lines, how can we create a String literal that includes a newline character? Java solves these problems by providing a set of escape sequences that can be used to include a special character within String and char literals. The escape sequences \n, \t, \b, \r, and \f are nonprintable characters. The table below lists the Java escape sequences.

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Here, We see how escape sequences can be used in Strings:

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And here is the result:

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Consciousness is Forever

The Wood of the Self-Murderers: The Harpies and the Suicides 1824-7 by William Blake 1757-1827

The Wood of the Self-Murderers: The Harpies and the Suicides, c. 1824–7. William Blake, Tate. 372 × 527mm. Shown is a scene from the Divine Comedy: Dante and Virgil discover Pietro’s body encased in a tree.

If we are physicalists, we know that experience never dies. Only the narrative center of gravity can be eroded or cast astray.

What do we make of suicide in infinite dimensional Hilbert space?

a function

{\displaystyle f(\theta )=\operatorname {E} _{\xi }[F(\theta ,\xi )]}

is the expected value of a function depending on a random variable {\textstyle \xi }

Stochastic approximation algorithms have the goal of understanding the properties of such a function but to do so without evaluating {\textstyle f} directly. Instead, the algorithms use random samples of {\textstyle F(\theta ,\xi )} to efficiently approximate properties of {\textstyle f} such as zeros or extrema.

Let theta be experience. Let the function f be suicide.

If {\textstyle f(\theta )} is twice continuously differentiable, and strongly convex, and the minimizer of {\textstyle f(\theta )} belongs to the interior of {\textstyle \Theta }, then the Robbins-Monro algorithm will achieve the asymptotically optimal convergence rate, with respect to the objective function, being {\textstyle \operatorname {E} [f(\theta _{n})-f^{*}]=O(1/n)}, where {\textstyle f^{*}} is the minimal value of {\textstyle f(\theta )} over {\textstyle \theta \in \Theta }.

All experiences converge on survival.

The universe of all experiences is 1. It’s limit is 0 as n approaches . Open individualists approach the limit from one side, and empty individualists approach it from the other.

1600px-Hyperbola_one_over_x.svg

Leibniz saw binary in the Tao.

But we didn’t need all these fancy mathematical representations to know that. As Dennett likes to say, “There is no crucial finish line or boundary somewhere in the brain where the order of arrival becomes the order of presentation.”

To generate a texture that matches the style of a given image we use gradient descent from a white noise image to find another image that matches the style representation of the original image. White noise is Nirvana. The unborn and unsought.

Ontologically, this present moment is dissimilar to your ten-year-old self moment in the exact same way that my present moment is dissimilar to it. No orb of awareness actually gets on a vector and is pushed forward in time.

Now reduce the delta between observations to attain enlightenment. In other words, notice that you can shorten the timespan as much as you like between the past memory and now, and the past memory will always be not you. If you know calculus, you will recognize this as taking the limit as Δt approaches 0; so the consciousness function C with Δt in the denominator = ∞. There is consciousness, in all its varieties, in all times and places, always here. There is no extra “my consciousness” being carried by some fundamental object in nature called “my brain.”

    n = any positive integer
    i = 0
    while i <= n:
        i = i + 1

People imagine that life is like this Python code. Eventually i is greater than n and the code terminates. There is some point in the future along one’s timeline at which fate catches up and one inevitably seizes to continue on. We are each our own machine running this snippet of code with a different value for n and hence we terminate at different times as different fundamental entities.

Even scientists have forgone the use of Occam’s razor on the yet cherished bosom of their Christian mother.

But if you are a physicalist:

 

Take a moment to victoriously laugh at this.

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Take a moment to rejoice in the fact that we have replaced linear timelines

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with a Hilbert Curve:

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We stared into the search engine until our reflection was composed of eigenvalues. The room, a computational configuration space.

From the burned offering of Newton’s fantasy, we have summoned our true mother: The multiplex eyes covering her body are entangled into a singular geometry.

 

If you have not yet performed the transmutation, read this:

Identity Isn’t In Specific Atoms

No Individual Particles

Timeless Identity

If MWI is correct, should we expect to experience Quantum Torment? command F Eliezer_

Then sign up for cryonics and donate to SENS. Amyloid webs encroaching, substantia nigra dissolving.

 

My All-or-Nothing Mind

I recently caught myself browsing college courses in alphabetical order, imagining what it would be like to take all of them. It would kind of suck to start with African American Studies, but I could get used to it, and then move on to Anthropology and then Astronomy… and then I realized that investing time in this fantasy was negatively affecting my motivation to commit to my actual major. I was reframing it in a broader context, not one in which it was my special calling, but one in which the absurdity of human fate had committed me to it. Out of all the possible options out there… all the courses, all the textbooks that could have been used, all the colleges, and yet here I am.

The cause of my circumstances is not some well-thought out plan. It is not that some genius mastermind God of education reasonably calculated that the subjects and local topics we study are the very best use of our time. No, the data meeting your eyeballs and bouncing around in the topographical map of your visual cortex is dictated by Moloch who’s true master is the Laws of Physics.

In the past, I have sought answers to this turbulent nonsense by attempting to reduce it all to all-embracing simplicity.

What is simple?

Schedules are simple. I eat the same thing every day, with each item always at the same allotted time. I workout at the same time every day, always with the same workout cycle.

But this does not solve the entirety of life. What’s more simple?

Meditating non-stop is simple. When I was seventeen, I attempted a weird form of Buddhism that could only be invented in the age of iPhones. Call the practitioner a transhuman-yogi – someone who listens to the same set of guided meditations through their earbuds from morning to night until their mind is fluid, compassionate, tuned, and yet disturbed.

Okay, that radically changed me. Not all for the good, not all for the worst. But, what’s next?

Suicide is simple. Non-existence is beyond bliss and non-bliss. Truly Nirvana, when you realize that it cannot be grasped. We tend to project a sense of absence, a vacuity of a grey room onto the concept of nothingness. But nothingness doesn’t exist, it is beyond non-existence.

I was sufficiently comfortable with this, that at some point, I did something really stupid and killed off a bunch of my clones in other Everett Branches. On one side was the deep water, on the other was the sand. I passed myself out with alcohol on the ledge. The probability of death was 50/50. Somehow, I ended up on the sand. But I know that by doing this, I significantly increased the amount of branches where others like me are dead. Evidence for quantum immortality? Not enough to convince me… yet.

Being Filthy Rich ™ makes things simple. When I was sixteen, before I got into meditation and consequentialism and science, I was into getting rich. I worked and invested on a little eBay flipping business. I haggled over prices with the Chinese through the school’s library computers. I raised thousands of dollars, including money from family members, all to make it grow in the financial markets. I practiced with paper money, using different kinds of technical analysis tools such as the Moving Average Convergence Divergence(MACD for short), the ADX, and Bollinger Bands. I tried it on different regions of the market, and thought I was deriving valuable insights.

To the contrary, I was little more than gambling. Although, I managed to accumulate over twenty thousand dollars, I quickly lost most of it. In hindsight, I would have probably been comparatively better off by now if I had stuck to fundamental analysis, which is the first thing I had taught myself. But with my prefrontal cortex still developing, and my voracious hunger to break away from the bondage of school, the quick-money allure of day trading was too tempting to avoid.

 

All of this may seem to be an attempt to put to shame those who seek simplicity. It may sound like I have discovered a pattern from which it is possible to induce that seeking simple answers is bad.  However, this is not the case.

It is not a common trait to seek The-One-and-Only-Answer, to this degree. People like us can deliver laser-like insight to a humanity that wallows in banal trivialities. I have recently discovered that in Internet culture, a word has been invented to describe these non-alien types, “normies” – for example, those who are perfectly comfortable on the front page of Youtube, watching political talk-shows and comedy.

Most of my family and the people I knew in school were, are, and will remain normies of some kind or another. I have accepted this now, long after having self-inflicted a damaging percept of disgust that led me to isolation in the past. Back in my more immature days, I didn’t want people to rub off on me because it always annoyed me how non-epic they were: “How do you not see that humans and all their cherished emotions as they presently exist are just one corner of all the possible regions in experiential-space? How do you not see that your culture, your religion, and your language is arbitrary and stupid? How do you not see that anime is better than SpongeBob?”

 

People like me must accept that the answer to human life is not simple because most humans don’t have a utility function they want to maximize even on paper. It is impossible to build a compass without a magnetic field to show us north.

If we attempt to analyze what moves humans, then hovering above the cryptic mist of quantum field theory, more intelligible causal factors can be gleamed. Canonically, these include a variety of memes and the underlying protein scaffold on which they run. There are local culture-viruses, such as whatever particular game with stones was played by village girls in the year 45 AD of what is now Biernatow, Poland. And then there are gargantuan-sized economic vectors which push millions of minds to explore some kind of mind-configuration space as opposed to another. None of the events at this level can be optimized for independently because they are intertwined and partially instantiated in other processes such as the behavior of mitochondria. What is there to optimize for when its all a mess that only appears full of intention? Even evolution is an abstraction caused by more simple molecular behavior (this is a common source of teleological confusion for non-biologists.)

The solution is to take a radically alien, detached, third-person view which seeks to optimize for positive valence. Sure, claiming that finding the peak of this valence plot is the goal, is also just a bunch of blind little causal factors inducing my brain to transmit particular electrical signals to the fingers on the keyboard. But the one thing that all experiences share is that they can be plotted on a graph of time vs. valence. They can not be plotted on a graph of time vs. justice, because our concept of justice varies. Or time vs. Allah-pleasing-righteousness, because even an attempt at the literal interpretation of religious text is impossible due to the ambiguity of language and contradictions.

However, the difference between positive valence and negative valence is crystal crisp and clear. The feeling of being lovingly hugged by your parents and the feeling of having a stake driven through your mouth really corresponds to the existence of different regions in qualia-space. It is not made up after the fact with meaningless, relativistic language. Experiences and their hedonic tones are direct properties of the universe. Once we have a fundamental physical explanation for qualia, and can hypothesize new structures and their properties in the same way that we can suggest new chemical compounds, we will be on our way to re-engineering our minds towards the best configuration that wins the game. And not just our own minds, but all available matter should be set up to run the peak experience on loop for as long as possible, harvesting Hawking radiation from black holes for trillions of years until the universe finally splits at its seams.

AnD thiS is WHy LOviNg SimplICiTy iS AWesomE;. It GIVeS A NeW PeRSPEcctIVE

And, and, when I’m rich, I will start a company that strives to incorporate these ideals and begin to  wander with purpose. It will revolutionize the economy with cryptocurrency based on mining positive experiences in day-to-day life while brain activity is tracked. It will focus on designing cultural institutions and artifacts first, then pharmaceuticals, and then neuroengineering, finally culminating in packing matter into tidy cubes of perfect bliss that spread throughout the cosmos.  It will be called SEELE, and I have already built a website for it.

… Okay, I am fucking crazy. “Consensus reality, come save me!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suicide Gene Therapy

I believe that the honey-coated afternoon bled unto their eyes. With reckless arms and trampling feet they beckoned to be followed by whoever was behind. Provisional senses putrified to the core at 25 years after all. 60,000 B.C. had no shoulders to suffer on. It had splinters for the soles and parasites to twist and flush the insides. It had fauna who would not forget to savor a carcass. And what bizarre inflections were these? The sight of a little marauder about aimlessly with stone in hand, deep in the yellowish specter of first light. Had he been in darkness before this? His image like that in the murky waters. A windfall of half-merciful fragments dashed their path: warmth, song, and raspberry awe. Chemicals with feelings too true. Products of the sadistic game that all beings play upon the rough, sharpening claws, sharpening immunities, and on one pressure point, sharpening minds. Steadily painting a brain. A brain chosen to know that all will end the same, regardless. Steady, they traversed, not as friends of this world but as hawks waging their tomorrow against it. No author, but the syntax precisely etched in carbon and nitrogen. Sharpened and sharpened until they saw. Then they sharpened their spears sharper and sharper upon having seen. They stood, with chests. Zenith above revealing only a hollow aperture like the gashes held onto. They looked down at their hands and asked, “What are these for?” Then they dug their pus-filled fingers through the oily flesh and bones of fish. They bent at the tendons but they ran. Their silhouettes cutting against the tall grass. In time, their throats were impaled with black. The sort of sharp black that finds a home there after leaving the body of a dead child. How slight their inner fire seemed then. “These animals no longer have throats, let’s wear their horns.” “Let’s worship this red sky,” he must have said to the female he bred with.

I believe in the cold lashes of rain against their skin. I believe that they lay curled in the fetal position begging their intestines to forgive them. I do believe this. So I loosen the blade pressed against my wrist. Curse my frailty. And know that as this arrow of time forever threatens my spine, I carry their story in every cell of this body.