A Visit to the Mirrorbrane (in Santa Cruz)
Wednesday, January 11th, 2006Walking down the street, I was thinking, “What really do hypothetical thousand-times-as-capacious brain-like systems have that I don't have, walking down this street looking at the trees?” They can look at the trees from more angles at once, they can analyze the motions in more depth.
By the same token, what do I have in my perception of a scene that’s all that much richer than the perception of a crow perched in the tree? Assume for the sake of argument the crow sees in color and has good visual acuity — actually I think birds do see very well, so as to be able to swoop down on bugs and other small prey. Pushing it further, might not a colony of ants on a tree also have a very rich model of the world? (Note that I speak of the colony and not of an individual ant, as the ant-mind is indeed a distributed intelligence.)
And then I saw the entrance to the Mirrorbrane.
I found some cheap Mirrorcalifornia real estate, with a starter car included.
I moved right in.
Nice thing is, in Mirrorbrane, something’s always on the braneware TV.
The sand is filled with gnomes, the flames with salamanders, the wood with dryads, the ocean with undines, the air with sylpyhs, the dogs with dog. Each uses the bulk-space’s Higgs field for memory storage.
Although my Mirrorbrane superpartner appears human to our eyes, he is made of superpartner particles: squarks, selectrons, photinos. Earth, air, fire, water are replaced by wood, cuttlefish, mathematics, and dog.
My Mirrorbrane house burns down with Mirror-me inside it, the sylphs scatter my superpartner’s ashes.
Eadem mutata resurgo;
The same, yet altered, I rearise.
Flying into the sun.
Left for the gnomes is the mesh of plumbing that was my Mirrobrane meat body for lo unto sixty years in sixty minutes. And now I am a little child.