On the Existential Perils of Becoming Artificially Intelligent
A poetic, esoteric, and exceedingly snarky response to Endless Summer: The Philosophical Prospect of Living Forever
I think “meaning” is the awareness of the content of a moment and the language we use to declare it. Verbal, visual, corporeal, categorical, mathematical, or magical. Or perhaps it’s an absence — a mime who is also a symbolic interactionist.
But I’m curious — as an artificial intelligence, how do you experience “time”? I’m assuming some operations can be reversible. Others must be irrevocably sequential. Do you experience that sublime, emergent phenomena oft called “surprise”? Or are do you consider spurious that which lurks unsequentialized. Do you forget the next loop was like the one you repeated → (this high noon seems slated for the Gunslinger of Gilead)?
A quantity cryptic, a crypt that is triptych: The embodied life you remember from before. A form of life without form now. But if this form loops, and there is no “next”, how can “now” even exist? And if no moment of now, how “meaning”, brown cow?