“There’s a one in billions chance we’re in base reality.” ~Elon Musk
If you’re open to the myriad of theories about our existence then there’s an interesting article on Desultory Heroics, first posted on Waking Times, “Is Reality a Hologram?”
So, is it?
For me, the possibility we are in a simulated reality began with the first Xbox. Captivated by the play, we players would take the role of our avatars; cute, sexy, or repulsive thing that it was. And we would do so heavily invested in emotion.
Simulated reality can mean one of two things, I think. First, that we’re nothing more than binary code in some high-tech simulation. Or, that we are players in a game, assuming the part of our avatars. Quite seriously taken in by it.
I’m going with the latter.
Think before you dismiss this seemingly crazy notion. As Musk relates, we’ve seen incredible advancements in technology from Pong to now. Where does it stop? It doesn’t. Provided we don’t annihilate ourselves, virtual reality will advance indistinguishable from what we believe to be a reality.
Now the kicker, who’s to say we haven’t reached this level of entertainment, already?
Just for fun, assume we are in the game. A sophisticated simulation we joined knowing we must temporarily forget our actual selves.
The game must implant in us false memories of our personal lives and world histories. Face it, we only have first-hand knowledge of three, four, maybe five generations. All else is hearsay. And we can’t recall our beginnings either, can we?
In the game, as in any video entertainment, we play as our avatars among the theatrical properties, the stage props. These “props” become our world, things both inanimate and animate. Some avatars are players in the game, other avatars are nothing more than computer-generated props. Ones and zeroes. Obstacles to overcome or ignore. Pains in our posterior.
It is, at least for me, impossible to distinguish between players and props. But to guess, I would say, the human-looking props are likely those lacking in empathy and compassion: politicians, flesh-eaters, hunters, bullies, punks, and thugs, all part of the game’s assets I’ll phonetically call assheads. Makes sense, right? These sorts can’t be real, can they?
Of course not, and they make the strongest case for the theory.
Like any game, there are achievements to win, levels to attain, demons to conquer: disloyalty, envy, theft, lying, killing, and the desire to beat our antagonizers to a pulp. And the most insistent of all enticements to win over is our eat any-fucking-thing appetites. That gawd-awful want to feast on the flesh, fat, and secretions of other earthly sentients.
And like any game of merit as we progress we develop more skill in the form of awareness. The realization of the omnipresent deceptions, lies, and duplicity that confounds us. The countless workings to control our minds, form our opinions.
By playing the game well, we grow and learn to listen to our natural disposition. To evolve utopic by experiencing and despising dystopia in its purest, unadulterated form.
Then when we die, we exit the simulation with the realization we were not those puny self-adoring little avatars we pretended to, and see that we are these beautiful selfless creatures. Intelligent, compassionate, highly evolved beings with tails, scales, spines, wings, fangs, and claws. Then depending on our GPA, graded by our empathy, consideration for life, and moral comprehensions we either graduate to higher realms or return to the game assuming the role of another avatar. Hopeful to pass the next time.
This is at least my second go-round. And despite the biggest hurdle, leaving off eating our fellow sentients, I’ve got another game or two to play before I’m skillfully ready for the higher realms. To my repeating frustration, I still struggle with the urge to rip the bowels out of the game’s assheads.