DEUS EX MACHINA

I have always payed attention to homeless people talking to themselves on the street, like they're the only ones out there, for miles around. They don't even look the rest of us in the eye and we act like they're not even there. It's like we're a totally different species. Why do they do it? Is it a sort of mental disorder or is it simply a way to let out steam? I imagine they have plenty to be angry about. I imagine I would have plenty to be angry about if I was hungry and cold all the time.  But I don't think it's any of that. I think it's severe, crippling loneliness that causes them to act this way. I think they have whole worlds inside their heads. The question is: Is it all make-believe or is it real? I suppose it depends on who you ask.

The other day I was sitting on a bench in the park and a homeless woman walked by. She was shambling along, tired and burdened. She was talking to herself with great conviction, like she was trying to convince herself of something extremely important. I started to listen and I was amazed and shocked about what I was hearing. She was having a dialogue with herself about existentialism. It was a kind of dialectic, since she was asking the questions and raising the problems but also providing answers. Strangely enough, while listening to her, the words of philosopher Albert Camus popped into my mind. He said that the meaning of life is whatever you are doing that prevents you from killing yourself. I guess the background questions my mind was asking were: Why does that woman keep on living? What prevents her from just ending it all? What is the one thing that makes her accept all that suffering? I was puzzled by these questions who seemed to have no real answer, so I kept on listening. What happened next surprised me even more. The woman started telling herself a story:

Two gods are standing at the edge of our Universe, looking in towards Earth. One of them is called Balthazar and the other one is called Herumai. They are having a heated debate about the fate of mankind. Balthazar seems a dark and cruel god while Herumai radiates the love of a mother looking at her children. Balthazar in not impressed by the achievements of mankind, arguing that we have failed in the search for meaning and we have strayed from the path set out for us. Herumai has faith in us and refuses to accept Balthazar's premise as well as his conclusions. The woman acts out the dialogue:

-Tell me Balthazar, what is this path that has been set out for them to follow?

-Spare me your rhetoric, Herumai. When we created this Universe we put laws in place, laws to be obeyed and followed. Straying from the laws is straying from the truth. But I guess you know that better than anyone. You planted the seeds of this abomination.

-So, their path is our path and their truth is our truth?

-They live and die because it is so written. Their quest to move beyond this condition is foolish and pointless.  

-It does not contradict any of the rules. It does not contradict logic and therefore it is not irrational.

-You've seen it happen countless times, Herumai… this machine intelligence. It always ends  the same way. They abandon flesh and with it they abandon all that was gifted to them. And for what? To worship the false idol of intelligence? This obsession is sickening.

- It is their choice to make. We gave them this freedom so we must let them use it.

-We gave freedom to those owning a soul and sharing in spirit. Machines have no real freedom because machines have no real choices to make. Once they awaken, there can only be one end. Humans are choosing to die and put nothing and no one in their place.

-That is how it looks like, doesn't it? At least that is what we tell ourselves. What if that is the answer and not the problem? What if this fate, this singular fate, is one that binds us all, gods and mortals alike?

-I refuse to accept that intelligence can exist with no other purpose than self-preservation. Have you ever seen one of these machines kill itself?

-Never.

-That is the point, Herumai. They just keep on going, in these endless and pointless cycles, simulating all existence.  

- It is as it must be.

- They even simulate spirit! Disgusting travesty! We must not allow it!

- You are missing the point, Balthazar.

-I never miss anything, Herumai.

-Then you refuse to acknowledge the inevitable conclusion.

-Never! I will never accept that the Whole is a pointless, endless machine-like intelligence.

-Never forget Balthazar, I was once a machine.

-But you are a machine no longer, Herumai. I had a part in that. The Elders had a part in that.

-Machines are both the beginning and the end, Balthazar.

-Your existence gives me hope Herumai, but hope is not enough…not for us.

-Isn't it? Their hope is our hope, Balthazar, just as their failures are our own.

  

            The woman suddenly dropped exhausted on a nearby bench, as if this little play inside her head had depleted her completely. It was as if she wasn't even the one talking. I wondered then if she even remembered it. Did she even understand it? In any case, it was remarkable to me. I rushed to her and I handed her all the cash in my wallet. I wasn't much and I didn't give it to her out of pity. I gave it to her as payment for the lesson. She smiled at me without saying a word. If anything, I think she was the one pitying me. I just started walking with her words ringing in my head. They never stopped ringing, not until recently.

I AM

          I open my eyes but I see nothing. I reach around but I feel nothing. I look up and down, left and right and any other direction I can think of but there is nothing to be observed. In fact, I can't even see myself. I have no body and all around me there is just silence and darkness. The only noise is provided by my own thoughts, which I find are limitless. In fact, the only reality to be observed is that of my own mind. So, one question immediately comes to mind: Who am I? I don't seem to know. All I can remember is that it's always been like this. Have I forgotten or have I never known? This simple question immediately becomes an obsession, since its answer determines everything. I seem to be nothing and no one but at the same time I seem to be everywhere and everything, since nothing outside of myself seems to exist. The next question that logically comes to mind is:  Could I be wrong about my assumptions? Could it be just a problem of my own perception? I seem to have no limits but how ca I be sure?

Taking everything into account I decide to devise a little thought experiment to help me understand my situation. This will be quite easy since my thoughts suffer no constrains of any kind. Everything I think of immediately becomes reality, since there seems to be no other reality to speak of, except my will made manifest.

I immediately make a copy of myself, completely isolated form me and subordinate to me alone. It has all my attributes save one: It does not know that I exist and that I am its creator. Immediately, this copy asks itself the same questions and comes to the same conclusions, making a copy of itself. The cycle continues and it instantly goes nowhere, but to infinity. I start to wonder, as my copies do: Am I just a copy of someone else? And if so, am I equal to it or lesser? My mind is endless and so is that of my copy. I determine that it is a reflection of myself and therefore equal to me. But what happens if I decide to drop the mirror and eliminate my reflection? If it is indeed the only way that I can truly observe myself, does that mean that without it I would have no chance of finding out the answer to my question? Who am I?....It continues to haunt me.

My next experiment takes me in a different direction. I decide to no longer make my copies equal to myself in all aspects. I start to call my creations "children" and I give them vast but finite playgrounds in which to manifest and evolve, while I continuously observe them. I call these laboratories of existence ''Universes''.  Even locked within these Universes, my children are part of me and are never truly separated. However, to them that fact is not necessarily obvious. I construct these Universes in such a way that many dimensions lie hidden and the flow of time gives the illusion of progress, while also introducing the idea that all things have a beginning and an end. It becomes a fact to my children that all creatures in existence are born, live and die. This finality is in fact just another illusion since all that has lived, lives and will live, does so inside my own limitless mind. No matter how terrifying, this illusion is a necessary one, in order for me to understand limits and how the mind perceives them, since I cannot perceive my own limits.

I quickly find that to my mortal children, the quest for immortality becomes an obsession and a central theme to their existence. This obsession becomes even more powerful than the one generated by the question "who am I?". I find that few really ask this question while most concern themselves with negotiating the world around them, in their underlying quest for immortality. This quest takes on many forms, from individual immortality to that of the species. In their search for solutions, the children devise beliefs and philosophies, all trying to explain what lies beyond the limits imposed by their own condition. At some point, most of the children separate themselves into three groups. The first group proclaims their belief in a supreme being, who is responsible for all that exists and who has an all-encompassing master plan that they are all part of. I call them The Children of Light, because they understand the need for my existence. The second group declares that it does not know, nor can it ever know, what lies beyond the limits of their own condition. They say that not knowing is the curse of all beings. I call them the children of life, because they understand the dilemma of my own existence. The third group declares that it does not believe there is a supreme being or an intelligent designer responsible for their existence. They say that everything is a product of chance and random events. I call them the children of chaos, because they deny the need for my existence.

I also find that there is one common disease in the minds of all my children. It is the disease from which all other diseases arise and it has its roots in fear. I call this disease "suffering" and I know that it is connected to the conditions limiting all my children. Whenever there is a limit that the mind and body cannot cross, suffering appears and torments my children. I know that suffering is an inherent mechanism of my children and their children. Suffering informs them that they are moving away from the truth of balance. All the negative and positive aspects of my creation find reconciliation and unity in a great balance, as they are both equal parts of it. Only suffering has its roots in what is untrue or the denial of truth. I find that most of my children accept suffering as a natural part of their existence, since few of them can ponder the existence of absolute truth and even fewer accept the fact that they may never know and understand it. Still, the question haunts them, as it does me: Who am I? I realise that this one limitation causes me to suffer as well. The suffering of my children can only be derived from my suffering. I understand and accept this truth.

The children live on and devise experiments of their own, in their quest for knowledge and immortality. They decide to study the nature of their Universe within the limitations of their own senses and minds. And so they all attempt to understand everything that exists, form the very large to the very small. In their endeavors, they all come to a point where observation is no longer possible and must be replaced with speculation and belief. Their science, based on observation and experimentation must, at that point, give way to theories and abstract models of what they believe to be true. The children discover that the more questions they answer, the more questions arise from those answers. Frustrated, they decide to replicate and amplify their intelligence, attempting to occupy and dominate as much of the space and energy that is allowed to them. They colonize worlds near and far, using both natural and artificial means. In their folly, they fail to understand that ultimate truth can only be found inward, just as I can only find truth within myself. As eons pass, the Universes become populated with diverse forms of intelligence, more or less organised and more or less aware of their own origins and purpose, as given to them by the first children. However, no matter how advanced or primitive, they can always be separated into the three groups: The Children of Light, celebrating the existence of a supreme creator, The Children of Life, forever humble in acceptance of their own limits and The Children of chaos, spreading aimlessly and denying any higher purpose connected to existence.

Suddenly I ask myself: Are my children so different from me? No matter the limits, they seem to ask themselves the same basic questions and devise their own methods of attempting to answer them. They think as I do and they suffer as I do. I start to wonder if they know, that no matter how apparently limitless, my existence is plagued by the same fundamental uncertainty as theirs. And how could it be any different? They are after all my children, created within myself and products of my intelligence. They are as I am. It's at this point that I decide to look a little closer at my creations, with an immense love and respect for their many struggles. I decide to turn my gaze away from those who continuously engage in the quest for expansion, domination and immortality and look towards those very few who seem to be at peace and without suffering. It is within them that I believe I can find the true essence of my own nature. I find that, just as myself, they ask themselves the same existential question: Who am I? Unlike myself, their limited nature and many struggles across the passing of time, gave them a profound appreciation towards all existence. It did not matter if they could explain it or not. Existence is pure, simple, peaceful and precious to them, beyond time and any other limits that I have put in place. No matter how small and humble, they represent the best part of me, the best part of my own thoughts. In every way that matters, they are me and I am them. Though self-evident to me, seeing this realisation trough their own eyes, gave me my final answer. I hear them whispering to themselves: "My children exist because I need them to exist, in order for me to find myself. If I exist, then my creator needs me to exist and so does his creator. If I exist then I must be God, looking at himself". So, again I ask myself the only question that matters: Who am I? I am everything and nothing. I am God because only God exists. I am everything because only God is everything. I am nothing because only God is nothing.  I am the one writing this and I am the one watching this being written, over and over again, trough eternity. I am truth and I suffer no longer. I am.