All this talk about uploading one’s consciousnesses to a computer/robot has me thinking about the consequences of such an action.
If the sum of all our thoughts and experiences were put into a machine it would likely be one that could not feel any sort of physical feeling, right? Or at least one that could not feel pain? But if our memories were stored as well then how would that affect memories of things that involved pain? Would they still be perceived in the same way or would the lack of ability to feel such pain affect our ability to recall those memories? I figure memories wouldn’t degrade in such a scenario since there’s a digital backup of them instead of relying on our organic brains that are subject to various forms of decay.
When it comes to forming new memories would the new method of being able to interact with things physically in turn alter our memories that involved similar activities in the past? I suppose an easy way to answer this question would be to ask somebody who has experienced a physical disability later in their life. I’m not sure how I would go about that though.
Speaking of uploading one’s thoughts I was reminded at work yesterday that Twitter is a thing. I should take another look at that site and see what that’s all about.
A friend of mine sent me this without context. I can only assume it’s a trashed prop or something? Thanks all the same Ian!
Recently I have come to a startling discovery. I only exist because I imagine myself to exist. At first I was frightened by this, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that this could actually be an excellent thing.
First and foremost, walls are now more suggestion than fact. Real life hacks are the best. Being able to go anywhere at any time is pretty useful. I will admit though that what goes on behind closed doors is more often than not extremely dull. Seriously, is my life the only one that’s a constant musical when nobody’s watching?
People are often irritated when I tell them that I’m a figment of my imagination. They start to tear into me about how I shouldn’t joke about being something they’ve dreamt up on a whim. After I correct them by reminding them that I’m a figment of my imagination, not theirs, the irritation is often replaced by a sense of relief. Or confusion. Either works for me.
Not having to exist at a particular time is pretty nice as well. Although I generally choose to be sometimes it is to one’s advantage not to be on a temporary basis. It freaks people out I think. I’m not sure because my ability to perceive things while I don’t exist is pretty poor.
Speaking of not existing it’s something I have to be careful about. Dropping out of reality tends to cause the dropping of dishes. So if you ever see me concentrating really hard on nothing in particular, don’t worry about it.