The Tannhauser Gate
Chapter 1
We must solve the problems we face today on a higher level of consciousness than they were created on. Einstein, 1924
Prologue, November 2076
During the first half of the 21st century, scientific discoveries and technological progress developed so rapidly that the historical imprint by far exceeded all that went before it since the industrial revolution began. The synergy between artificial intelligence and brain research became crucial for an exponential acceleration in new insights and technologies that now culminated in the adoption of a bill against STK (Scientific Totalitarian Control) in the year 2067.
If I had known the impact of the discoveries I made during those late nights at the Psychology Department and the series of events it triggered, I’m not sure I would ever have published them. But back then, I was unaware of how it was going to unfold. My only concern was doing my research the best I could to increase my feeble chances for tenure at the university.
I have long wanted to write this story. For my own understanding of what happened those years. To document to prosperity the events and implications that followed, and with a sincere hope that we learn from our actions and mistakes.
Chapter 1
The day the article came out, I had one of my daily walks through the city, which was necessary for my existence those years. I used them to process the vast amounts of knowledge I was absorbing like so many others. I had just crossed Gothersgade and walked through Linnésgade to the Marketplace. At that time, Israel Square and the old Greenmarket were being transformed into more modern versions of themselves. The place was frequently visited by tourists, students, and a few homeless who could not quite find themselves in the new setting. That day, instead of picking up my ritual lunch at one of the food stalls or drinking my coffee, I kept walking. In the far end of the Marketplace on the new Israel Square, the school kids had their lunch break, and all grade levels each performed their ritual acts. I took the trip through H.C. Ørsteds Parken and stopped briefly on the bridge by the playground to look at the water, but continued quickly. On those days when my legs seemed to have their own plan, I often ended up on the Black Diamond public library. As so many times before, this was also the case today.
There was a new exhibit in the basement about a Japanese photographer that I decided to watch before heading to the study hall to start my work. The pictures had a funny ambiguity to them. They were expressionless and, at the same time, hugely caricatured, which gave them an exciting intensity. I thought to myself that my confusion had to be rooted in some cultural disparity. Afterward, I went into the bookstore, where James stood behind the cash register.
“Anything new on display?” I asked in a trivial, slightly uninterested way, which was a ritual part of our communication. James had been staring in his book all along, not looking up when I walked in. “Nick Cave will be exhibiting soon if that can serve your royal interest? They are planning it up on the Deck. There’s currently a crisis meeting to agree on the consequences of the new education reform, but otherwise, they are in full swing laying it out”.
The Deck was on the 5th floor, where only the initiated and special guests were allowed to enter. James had once invited me up there after closing. He had the code from a love affair with the secretary to the CEO. The library had obtained an unprecedented manuscript by Charles Bukowski, which a former lover of Bukowski had kept until she died in her apartment. The manuscript was recovered from the outskirts of Christianshavn (the not-nice part). The library kept it while it was being validated as an original Bukowski. The poor deceased lover had no heirs, so the manuscript passed to the Family Fund, but before it did, James and I got to read the sacred pages one late night on the Deck.
“What does the education reform have to do with the Library?” I asked, partly confused and partly worried. Suppose anything were to happen to this place. It was my holy grail of sacred peace where I could connect, a place where inspiration was inevitable to stumble upon.
“Do not ask me, but there is no one up there, and the shop can take care of itself 5 min if you want to come up and see?”. They are reconstructing Nick’s old Berlin apartment with loads of pictures scattered across the table.”
As tempting as it sounded, I declined the offer. The day had already passed 1 pm without notable productivity, and I knew that the art of mastering such days was to avoid any further temptation and get to work. I sat down in the reading hall on the second floor. From here, I could look across the glass bridge to the other side, where students in the hundreds sat and worked their brains out. I remembered when my time at the library began, without the remotest idea of where it would end. There was a pleasant continuity about it, sitting and looking over there.
I had received feedback on a manuscript that I was trying to get published and was meant to review and resubmit it to the journal. But I got distracted, looking over the glass bridge, and my thoughts wandered back. I had taken a course in neural implants with the dear, crazy, and sadly deceased Professor Jones. I sat in those reading halls until well into the evening, gripped by the brain’s wonders and working, contemplating how to develop technology to improve it. When I returned to the present, I intuitively scanned the top scientific channels for breakthrough findings. It was here that I stumbled upon the article, which in many ways became the landmark of one of the most groundbreaking paradigm shifts in the history of scientific discoveries.
The article described how a team of researchers from Berkeley successfully recreated the image a person was looking at by scanning the visual area of their brain. The article appeared as the cover page of the Journal Neuron, and the decoded image extracted from the brain inventively read “Neuron.” The image itself was a bit gritty but unmistakable read the letters N E U R O N. The discovery was the first of many novel breakthroughs, born out of a rapidly developing merger of high-resolution imaging, and advanced AI. As the first of its kind, the discovery also gave rise to the initial ethical discussions concerning implications of scanning the content of human’s brains. No one took it seriously at the time, myself included.
Update: The title has changed from The Phenomological Recorder to The Tannhauser Gate July 20th
