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  • #2854
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Last year I wrote a story about the topic of how things will be when things can read our minds. It’s called “Apricot Lane,” and you can read it for free online in my Complete Stories, see
    https://www.rudyrucker.com/transrealbooks/completestories/#_Toc71

    Basically what happens is that you get charged tolls for everything you do! Walking on a sidewalk, sitting on a lawn, etc. And if you’re cheating on your spouse, your shoes squeal on you. Not a good situation.

    #2802
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

     

    Seeing the published Hieroglyph this week, I realize that the version of my story printed in the book does not include the ending that I’d intended to add on, and that the editors had approved.  The new ending got lost in the not-so-high-tech shuffle of putting the physical book together, and I should have noticed this in time, but I didn’t.  So… Here’s the ending that I meant for the readers to see. Just add this on to what you read in the book.  So now my story title “Quantm Telepathy” makes more sense!

    ======

    After our session behind the Ballard school, I brought Loulou to the room behind my store and she spent whole the night with me. It was epic. I was with her in my dreams. Like sleeping through a transreal biopic movie.

    Let me pause here and get didactic on your ass. I want to say more about how you get to teep from quantum wetware. It has to do with what you might call quantum psychology. Carlos had tried to explain this to me before, but at that point I hadn’t understood. Here we go.

    If you ever take a serious look inside your own head, you’ll notice that you have two styles of thought. Let’s call them the “robotic” and “cosmic.” Robotic thought is all about reasoning and analysis. Cosmic thoughts are wordless. It’s easy to be dominated by your endlessly-narrating inner robotic voice. Step past the voice and you can see the cosmic mode. Analog consciousness, like waves on a pond. Merged with the world. Without opinions.

    Ordinarily your mind oscillates between the cosmic and the robotic at a rate of maybe ten cycles per second. You need both modes. The cosmic state is a merge into your surroundings, and the robotic state is when you draw back and say, “Okay, it’s me against the world, I’ll plan what to do next to stay alive.”

    Gaven’s technical discovery was that we have a specific physical brain site that controls when our state of consciousness flips between the cosmic and the robotic. And for a joke he called the site the gee-haw-whimmy-diddle.

    So, okay, your gee-haw-whimmy-diddle controls when your consciousness flips between the cosmic and the robotic. And Gaven’s quantum wetware allows you to lean on your gee-haw-whimmy-diddle and keep your mind in the merged cosmic state for a longish period of time. This is the loofy thing to do. You could stay fully robotic for hours at a time instead—but I personally wouldn’t see much point in that.

    It’s the cosmic mode that leads to teep. How? Well—from a physicist’s point of view, your mind isn’t your physical brain. Your mind is a Hilbert space wave function that happens to look like a brain. Matter and wave, one and the same. If you and someone near you are both in the cosmic state, then your quantum wave functions can merge into a single combined wave system that gets gnarlier and more interesting the longer you can maintain the merge. Your brain waves overlay each other like two sets of ripples. And that’s teep.

    Serious dark beauty, qrude.

    I know I’m droning on for too long here—like an old-school professor tap-tap-tapping his chalk on a freaky, dusty blackboard.

    But I have one more tidbit to tell. Whenever you make a mental note about what you’re experiencing, you automatically bust your mind state down into the robotic mode. And your teep connections break. To remain in the teep state, you need to stay cosmic, and you can’t be laying down any organized memories.

    Putting it another way, qwet teep is oblivious. As in unseeing, unaware, ignorant, forgetful. This means that when you teep with someone, your memories of the trip will be as vague and flaky as last night’s dreams.

    “Zad!” It was mid morning, nearly ten. I didn’t usually sleep this late. Loulou was up on one elbow, dark and beautiful, twirling a lock of my hair with a finger. With her other fingers, she waved hello.

    It took me a minute to get my robotic mode going. “An intense night,” I grated. “I know everything about you.”

    “That’s what you think.”

    By now my randy cosmic wave function had retreated into the shell of my skull, and everything about our big night was unclear.

    “I—I forgot to remember,” I said.

    “Don’t worry. You’ve integrated it all into your psyche. Feel around. Stuff’s gonna drift up. Flotsam from the crystal ship. Jetsam on the shore. Postage stamps from yesteryear. Loosely speaking.” Loulou pursed her lips and studied me. “Don’t look so worried. We’ve got new minds!”

    Slowly I smiled. “This is gonna be fun. Quantum teep!”

     

    #1769
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Giulio, I think you can use quantum entanglement for telepathy with one caveat: you can’t remember the contents of the communication, otherwise you get Faster Than Light communication. Nick Herbert calls this an “oblivious link,” and it plays a role in my novel in progress THE BIG AHA.

    Brian, that’s a good point to remember, that is, thinking is, after all, a physical process, at least so far as we know, so there could be a spectrum running from inanimate things to us, with the rudimentary “thoughts” perhaps occuring lower down on the scale than we might have imagined. As for being influence by people, the one or two great gurus I met in my life, such as Kurt Godel the Dalai Lama and Allen Ginsberg, did give me a sense that their influence as mediated not so much by their words as by their presence. So it feels like a telepathic element there. But these could be simply a matter reading non-verbal cues, although that’s less exciting.

    Aleks, I have an aversion to Karl Popper—in my view he is playing word games rather than saying really interesting things, and he promotes the same behavior in others. But that’s just me…if he works for you, that’s good. Your other notion is reasonable, that is, the idea of emulating telepathy by getting really comprehensive data on a person’s brain activity. It’s not hard to imagine a SFictional empathy enhancer whereby you link with someone and the enhancer is crunching all of your brainwave data and giving you direct feeds of the unspoken aspect of the conversation.

    #1576
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Brenda, I’m catching up on my responses on this thread today. I got to meet Ramez Naam last month at an event organized by the Institute for the Future. Great guy. The telepathy enhancing nanoparticles sound pretty reasonable. Generally I tend to think “biotech” whenever people say “nanotech,” that is I think Nature is already doing molecular level tech really well, and the effective “nanotech” things we develop will very often involve tweaking existing organisms or constructing things like artificial viruses.

    Imaginie taking a whiff of electric eel DNA up your nose. “Turns me on! You took some, too? Yeah, baby. I’m feeling your thoughts. What a zap!”

    #1575
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Brian, sorry not to have responded to your long comment earlier. I see that you’re also thinking about the non-magical, fairly near-future types of telepathy-like brain-to-brain communication. I’m interested by your remark about possible difficulties in the last step, that is, the thought to signal and signal to thought steps.

    The easy way is simply to use speech as the intermediary, that is, you go thought to speech to brain signal to brain signal to speech to thought. Even this could be hard, but the brain is famously “labile” in the sense of adaptive, and this path should be feasible with some training sessions.

    The more truly telepathic route would be thought to brain signals to thought. What are our thoughts like before we turn them into words? Introspection time…

    #1574
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Yes, Giulio, it’s reasonable to imagine having a wireless hook-up from brain to something like a telephone, and this would indeed be a kind of telepathy. I’ve written about such devices in several of my novels—I call it an uvvy (pronounced soft, like lovey-dovey). The uvvy is a bit of piezoplastic that parks on the back of your neck. Wireless is important, as people won’t want wires into their spines.

    In a loose sense, simply have a wireless phone at all is like telepathy…imagine someone from 1900 seeing you using one! A magic device, clearly.

    The whole issue of the weak electromagtic external brain waves outside the skull is still kind of mysterious. That is, we don’t seem to have much of a handle on how one might filter signals out of them.

    Regarding the wireless interface, we might consider splicing in some tissue from electric eels to amp up our signals.

    Big issue with direct-brain signalling would be brain spam!

    #1572
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    Alex, I agree. In fact, one might argue that any person obviously has telekinisis since they can stare at their hand, will it to rise, and … it rises. But making a pebble rise is harder. We need a better interface to the mind of a rock, I guess.

    #1557
    Rudy Rucker
    Participant

    I’ve been circling around and around some ideas that I want to use in a story, “Quantum Telepathy,” that will be part of my next novel, The Big Aha. I’m going to say some more about nature of mind and the possibility of telepathy.

    Open your (inner) eyes to your true mental life. Your state of mind can evolve in two kinds of ways that I’ll fancifully call—“robotic” and “cosmic”. The “robotic” mental processes proceed step-by-step—via reasoning and analysis, by reading or hearing words, by forming specific opinions. Every opinion diminishes you.

    The “cosmic” changes are preverbal flows. If you turn off your endlessly-narrating inner voice, your consciousness becomes analog, like waves on a pond. You’re merged with the world. You’re with the One. It can be a simple as the everyday activity of being alert—without consciously thinking much of anything. In the cosmic mode you aren’t standing outside yourself and evaluating your thoughts.

    The cosmic mode is what’s happening between/behind/around your precise robotic communicable thoughts. The idea is to notice the spaces between your thoughts, or to avoid being caught up in your thoughts. This is a fairly common meditation exercise.

    We might have some specific brain sites that control when our state of consciousness flips from being with the One, that is, in a smooth, mixed, continuous or “cosmic” state—of being with the Many, that is, down to the “robotic,” specific-opinion state. If you’re a dreamy sort of person, your natural trend is to drift out to unspecificity, out the One. But other personality types tend always to be pushing down into the robotic, studying the details of the Many.

    I’m imagining a “quantum wetware” or “qwet” treatment that helps you can get into—and remain within—a smooth state for a longish period of time.

    Upon introspection, I get the experiential sensation that my mind oscillates between One/Many about sixty times per second. Between the “cosmic”/”robotic” consciousness modes. You do need both modes to get buy. The One state is like a radar ping you reach out into the world around you, and the Many state is when you say, “Okay, I’m alone here, it’s me against the world, what do I do next to stay alive?”

    Breaking away from the cosmic mode can be thought as involving a quantum collapse. You go from a broader, more ambiguous state to a more specific state. How does the collapser work? It affects not just you, but the things that you’re looking at and coupled to. Everything around you becomes overly precise, that is, robotic instead of cosmic. Less interesting. Like—think of they way that some people can make a whole scene dull just by the way they start talking about it. “How much did that cost? Is that safe to have around? Did you notice the scratch on it?”

    Do animals have collapsers? Do physical objects? Let’s say “not usually.” Might the ability to collapse be connected to having consciousness? Let’s say “yes.”

    What if I use the Antonio Damasio’s definition of consciousness as “the ability to visualize yourself visualizing yourself.” You can watch a model of yourself watching yourself. It’s a three-level map. Actor, strategist, analyst. The actor just does things, like an animal. The strategist observes the actor and makes corrections. The analyst observes the strategist’s decisions and improves on them.

    Suppose that this is a kind of physical map, a three-tier flow of quantum information, and that for a fixed-point theorem type reason, these flows cause quantum collapse—they throw a system into an eigenstate, that is, into a robotic, non-cosmic, fixed point. Humans are the main things that are three-tier collapsers, but such collapsers do occur naturally in certain places, just as certain types of crystals or mirrors might be found in nature. The spots with collapsers seem to have bad juju, that is, they’re inherently boring.

    I see the collapsers as being like snags in a rushing muddy river of quantum flow. And the snags leave precise ripple wakes. And there can be a kind of beauty to the moiré patterns of the overlaid wakes—this is what we call our human culture.

    In my “Quantum Telepathy” story and following novel The Big Aha, I want to work with the idea that managing to stay in the uncollapsed cosmic state, they can achieve a kind of telepathy. You can couple your “cosmic” mental state to the “cosmic” state of another person. I won’t be like a phone conversation. Your thoughts aren’t at all like a page of symbols—they’re blotches and rhythms and associations.

    Key Plot Point: For quantum theoretic reasons, a quantum link between the two systems isn’t of a kind that can leave memory traces, otherwise the link is functioning as an observation that drags consciousness back down to the robotic mode. So you can’t directly exchange specific, usable info via quantum teep. In my novel this will be a disappointment to the government backers of the qwet experiments.

    But your mind state will be changed by your teep interactions. But not in the obvious way of “remembering what they ‘said’.” After teeping with someone, when you later drop back down into your chatty “robotic” state, you’ll find that you are saying things you wouldn’t have said before the merge. But maybe you’re not sure why.

    This isn’t so different from a memory of a very deep, close, intense conversation with someone—a talk where you really got onto the same wavelength. Like a talk in bed with a lover, or chatting happy with a pal, or, getting into deep concepts with an admired mentor—telepathy happens.

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