Why did the keys end up in the fridge when you clearly remember keeping them on your desk

If you have ever found yourself doubting the Archive in your Brain, and are somewhat open to the idea of us living in a simulation, here’s a theory that might make sense: Our memories are inconsistent because our past isn’t static. In a ‘fair’ universe simulation that allows for ‘free will’, each potential action at each decision point has as many possibilities of a future parallel universe associated with it. Example: You snoozed your alarm clock and did not wake up in time to catch your regular bus and consequently did not get bitten by a spider and ended up living life as a used furniture salesman instead of Spiderman.

Imagine the number of micro-decisions each of the 7 billion people on earth take every moment and the amount of storage capacity required to run all these simulations in parallel -> even if you just assume binary outcomes, that’s 2^7,000,000,000 at some arbitrary point of origin that has 7B people, and increases to 2^2^7,000,000,0000 at the next step. Of course, any system would explode pretty quickly if it was allowed to run uncontrolled. Let alone space for the past, there is no space to store all the future possibilities.


  1. The world exists as a dynamically created collection of individual events at any given point of time


2. Futures from different ‘steps’ overlap. (Explains deja vu to an extent as well: sorry no new scenes are available at this point because your rebel cousin is too busy creating universes that do not find any close match in the existing database)

That it’s easier to change the ‘look and feel’ of digital assets versus penning down new narratives altogether is another factor driving the fact that all of us seemingly very different people have some very similar life experiences.

To summarize, the theory concludes that you’re not special. Nothing that happens to you is unique or exclusive in any way. It’s not even because someone was being lazy. It’s just because there’s no fucking storage space. That’s the extent of how non-special you are. Now go to bed and wake up tomorrow to experience a slice of somebody else’s life.

I always knew I would be the poor man’s Chuck Palahniuk.