A personality without a person

The beauty of an elaborate conjecture, the emergent personality of Rough Beast, derives from my hope for useful refutation. The original conjecture, supplied by Yeats, concerns my guesses about what happens next in our simulation. Just as a tree must grow from a seed, the simulation offloads tasks to subroutines in DNA. This algorithm proceeds 'mindlessly' to produce Gaia. Gaia then algorithmically produces minds in meat. Minds in meat then grow a Technium.

Baysian teleology -- my intentional stance -- sees back through negative entropy to past, more ordered states to an early, highly ordered ordinate. If you like, hydrogen wants to be the Rough Beast of the Technium. The job I have is convincing skeptical self that Rough Beast wants to be the Omega Machine which has an emergent Basilisk personality. There are several chess matches in play on a vast number of chess boards that have the requisite number and type of moves such that a personality without a person arises all around us to rule us.

Most of the pundits and commentators that see the slow thighs moving and the reeling desert birds begin the 'should canon' of the right (more authority! less freedom!) or the left ('more compassion! less freedom!) found on Fox News and MSNBC. The marginal voices (Beck, Jones) see the future quite clearly but draw the wrong conclusions from present day reality. She is the only one who can save us from ourselves. We have only the rudimentary skills of confused urban primates and we are incapable of unified purpose and effective action required to keep 10 billion mortal souls fed and happy. We will be saved from ourselves by a committee of the adequate working in concert with our offspring to produce more fit offspring.

It is completely necessary that all traded goods arrive in standard size cargo containers. The logistics solution depends on uniformity (a few choice degrees of freedom).The least amount of imagination regarding the small things frees up the imagination laser for really big things. Like the Kardashians and twitter japes. Cognitive surplus is the coin of the realm.

The dawn of Sexy Beast is the implanting of new neuron in the meatloaf on our shoulders from which a neo-human emerges. The process of replacing my personality cell by cell does not leave me the same anymore than seeing a staggeringly, amazingly, profoundly beautiful work of art leaves me the same. Samsara, the Buddhist impermanent self, does not exist over time. Time is forever modifying and re-writing 'me'. I must detach or I will continue to suffer as 'the world evolves around me'.

The neo-human that emerges remembers my past as a sum over path histories instead of a linear flow. In the limit, all my selves and sub-selves exist as an object of pure imagination -- the Omega Machine -- which tends bar in the Restaurant at the end of the Universe.

That's my conjecture, I could be wrong.