Simulations
There is a popular theory out there that the world we inhabit is simulated (the simulation hypothesis). It goes something like this: we are all either something like brains in boxes or possibly sophisticated AIs that think they’re human. We live in a complex simulation of the universe, and are unaware of the truth. Reality, and everything you’ve ever expereienced is effectively being spoofed. The idea has some popular traction — a number of reasonably clever people have even gone so far as to suggest that, if it is possible to create a simulated reality, then there’s a good chance you’re already in one.
And it’s a potent thought experiment. Given that what we already know our experience is, in effect, being simulated by the electrochemical reactions in the brain anyways, it’s hard to find a way out of the trap this idea represents. After all, we are actually incapable of knowing with any confidence. We have to consider why such a simulation would exist, and why you would find yourself in it. To do this, consider what’s being simulated and what are limits of the simulation are. Do others exists as a part of private simulation with some subject at the center — say, you or me? Are others here as well, simply sharing an environment with me, open-world style? Is my presence in the simulated environment the intent of the simulation or a byproduct? Were we intended as something like NPCs that accidentally took over our virtual environment? Do I actually possess a physical body outside the machine?
The first case probably reads a little like heaven. If a single person occupied the central place in a simulation, then their presence would be essential. Such a simulation would rely on them to function correctly — every algorithm would be bent according to their will (whatever world they were occupying). Of course, this would require some delicate tooling — a little awareness is a dangerous thing. If the subject of such a machine were to become aware of the simulated nature of reality, the machine would need to respond. Suffice to say, someone who didn’t know they ruled the world suddenly have a different set of issues to consider if they figured out that they did. After all, a dependent simulation would require both our conscious and unconscious inputs to function correctly, which are prone to shifting as we make our way through life.
In a shared simulation, the usual rules would apply. If my fellow humans are just as “real” as me, there’s really no difference in how we experience what is and how to approach it. As in our presumptive reality, only our external experience can have an impact on the world, and only by the extended effect those actions have on others. Something of our inner life might inform these interactions, but this model allows no end in narcissism (as might be the case in the first). If we share a simulation, then we share something of the responsibility for maintaining it. In this case, discovering the simulation introduces nothing more that the potential for escape. After all, not every position is equitable, and not every experience laudable. The question on the lips of suffering masses sounds the same as the one we already know: maybe there’s something on the other side?
In the event that there are no people, only other programs, you find a scenario a bit like in the film Free Guy. In it, a procedurally generated character (an NPC) develops an awareness of the artificial nature of his reality. In Guy’s case, the rise of sentience is an accident — something not intended or planned by the original parameters of the system. Guy wakes up as a consequence of falling in love, which is probably the best way to knock us out of our usual patterns. His experience parallels that of evolved life, consciousness coming spontaneously, and likely deeply nested within an interconnected web of related and overlapping systems (consider the rise of the human race).
That said, assuming that this emergence was unplanned, it begs the question of how the simulation and its creators respond. Or if they bother.
If the world is a simulation, it’s meant to be experienced in a very particular way. So why not simulate now? We’re passing through an exceptional era; we can almost all agree on that. But more profoundly, we might wonder what the value of awareness is. Especially outside of case one. Generally speaking, a given simulation runs towards some predetermined course, so knowing something of the simulation means knowing something about what that purpose is -fate. The trouble with fate of is that, whatever you do, things are going to come out the same way. But because the trajectory of the universe isn’t exactly predetermined, there’s a good chance that whatever is being simulated will contain necessary gaps. Improperly managed, these might ultimately make accepting reality as posited impossible (consider the problem of madness — this happens to people all the time).
When popular fiction touches this subject, it usually assumes that the simulation serves some shallow or nefarious end, and that the reality of it as a simulation is unknown to the people inside. Free Guy is set in an open world video game; something a bit like Grand Theft Auto. Of course, the great classic on the subject is The Matrix. Its simulation is mostly perfect, so escape requires intervention — the blue pill or the red pill. This drive to hide the truth sets up the basic conflict of the film.
Which introduces an interesting question: what if the machines that built the system wanted to engender awareness? What if the object of a given simulation was to figure it out? It’s hard to say for sure why you might build such a contrivance. Immortality or something like it; maybe just as a series of tools that exceeded their original purpose, and now run on like some forgotten background process. Maybe aliens watch us like you might watch gamers on Twitch? I any case, it almost goes without saying that accepting the world a simulated means accepting the presence of a creator, some entity that manages the hardware and software that would sustain your experience. And potentially, they could know everything about any given component of that simulation — including the people in it.
Behind any experience of the machine would be a mountain of databases and software operations, constantly processing and reprocessing itself to generate the experience of Earth in the 21st century. This is not to say that anyone would really have time to go through all that data. But depending, you could build some highly sophisticated models. Which takes us back to the problem that arises when an entity becomes aware of the simulation — every anthropologist can tell you that nothing changes behavior quite like the awareness of it being monitored. If pieces of the simulation start to wake up to it, who knows what they might do. But it would definitely mess with the numbers.
But if we assume our simulation is approaching perfection, the only way to wake up to it is if the simulator intended that you do. You can’t be sure though, so it’s probably still best to look both ways when crossing the street.
