To Believe: A Man’s Quest to Understand Reality

by M I A Harba

  He continued to drive, always conscious of his position on the GPS, and how far out from his house he was. He had an eye on the fuel gauge, too. At the end of the afternoon, he drove back empty-handed, with no clay fragments or anything of interest to show for the effort.

  At his house, things were as he left them, quiet and undisturbed. He switched the lights inside the house and went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat. The swishing sound of his frying pan was the only sound in the place, and everything else was dead quiet. He had his dinner in the living room in silence, thinking about the ideas that troubled his mind earlier. He regretted not putting a marker to lead him back to the place of the fragments. That place was probably an inhabited village, 7000 years old, and they left these clay fragments after they moved. It would be an invaluable find from the archaeology point of view.

  He fetched the book about the Simulation Hypothesis and resumed reading. An inspiring thought hit his mind. If everything was simulated on a computer, then we should be able to see the limitations of this computer. The refresh rate is the Planck Time, and the spatial resolution is the Planck distance. The processing speed, or the CPU clock, determines the speed of light in the universe.

  If this computer is simulating everything, as the theory stipulates, then it must simulate all the characters, or all the people of the world, all mammals, insects, fish and everything we see. What Sam sees should be different from other peoples’ visions, and thus the simulation must create an individual vision for each character. And this must have been going on for thousands of years, during the evolution of the various species. Isn’t it getting more difficult for the simulation computer by now?

  The number of people is increasing, and the people are beginning to see more of the world, at the microscopic level and the universe level. Shouldn't we see a slower response of the simulation computer since it is doing more simulation activities for the ever-increasing population of the world?

  The proponents of the Simulation Hypothesis say the simulation computer performs its simulation in a smart way. For each one of us, it doesn't need to create all the visible space around us, but only what we happen to observe at that moment. In other words, it simulates the scenes in front of our eyes, and those scenes at the sides or back, that we don't actually see, are not simulated. This is a well-known technique for reducing the processing load required for full simulation. This is how games are structured nowadays. They save a lot of processing power by following this principle: simulate only the scenes that are supposed to be visible to the simulated characters.

  With the advent of modern tools, humans can see and detect more than what humans could a hundred years ago. They could look at microbes under the microscope and at the internal structure of beings and things. They use telescopes, and other sensory equipment, that were not available to humans before. This means more processing load is imposed on the simulation computer to create new scenes, as the number of these scenes have been increasing all the time.

  A scene could be shared by hundreds, if not thousands, of other characters living in the same area. The simulation computer does not need to create afresh these scenes for every individual character in the area. A scene could be shared by these neighbouring characters, reducing the load on the computer. However, new scenes are invented every passing day to cater for the newly added characters and the new scenes that become visible via tools. Don’t these impose more processing load on the simulation computer?

  Humans have evolved, and their technologies have become more complex. Look at the Internet, an invention that is a milestone in the technological advances of humans. All of a sudden, all human knowledge, which is increasing exponentially, has become available to every human with access to the Internet. Wouldn't this add more processing load on the simulation computer? It must be the same computer that simulated us 100 years ago, which now has to cope with this increased processing demand due to the advances and exponential increase in knowledge.

  Quantum computers that rely on the quantum effects of the very elementary particles are coming to life these days. Wouldn’t this add more processing demands on the simulation computer?

  In summary, the technological advances, the increase in knowledge of the population, and the increase of the population itself must surely have an impact on the processing load of the simulation computer. We should, therefore, see slowing in the performance of the simulation computer. We should experience an increase in the Planck Time, which is the refresh rate of the world around us. Are we seeing any of this? Does the simulation computer have an unbounded power and an infinite ability to the extent these don't affect it?

  If the Planck Time has increased, could humans construct an experiment to measure the refresh rate or the Planck Time? Could they monitor it as the processing load increases on the simulation computer? They could measure it now and repeat the measurement in a few years. If there is a difference in the Planck Time, then it must be due to the sluggishness of the simulation computer with the increased load.

  There must be some other experiments scientists can put together for verifying whether or not we live in a computer simulation. Maybe, they are already performing such experiments now.

  Sam, obviously, didn't have the resources to investigate these simulation limitations, if any. He remained constrained to his own imagination, analysis, and logic for deciding if reality was simulated. This is tough.

  It was during that week that he experienced his first thunderstorm while alone. It started late afternoon, and it announced its approach stabbing the ground with its silvery swords. He watched its approach from inside his house. The cloud looked dark blue and menacing and was approaching at a speed. It arrived in the early evening, and the wind had picked up dramatically. The heavens started pouring down, and the lightning became stronger, and the accompanying thunder was deafening.

  It was a frightening experience, as he was on his own and if anything went wrong, he was beyond immediate help. He was glad he installed a lightning rod on top of his house even though the electrician thought it was completely unnecessary. The house was not very high, and there were rocky mounts here and there that lightning could target first. But his sixth sense prompted him to instal a lightning rod. Hopefully, it would provide some protection against the lightning that night.

  He lit the lights in the living room and lay on the sofa, facing the window overlooking the desert. He wrapped himself in a blanket, which gave him a feeling of warmth while watching the elements outside churning the desert outside.

  The wind, and the sand and dirt it carried, hit the windowpanes violently, and he felt their agony as they rattled with the impact. He wasn't sure if the solar panels on the roof could withstand the ferocity of the wind, but there was nothing he could do about it. It continued for a few hours like that, and it poured down like a sieve ridding itself of water.

  The intermittent flashes of lightning gave him a glimpse of the desert moaning under the ferocity of the thunderstorm. Puddles of water had already accumulated across the plain, and their surfaces were ripped apart by the strong wind.

  The sound of thunder appeared very near, and he was sure the lightning was hitting the lightning conductor on the roof. It was so strong and so loud; it was like a grenade exploding. He served in the Iraqi army during the Iran war, and he felt the level of thunderclaps he experienced that night was like those during the most ferocious of battles at the front.

  It also became cold, and his paraffin heater in the living room helped but only a little. He was uncertain if the window frames were firm enough or had tiny cracks that allowed the wind in, because the room was getting a lot colder. However, wrapped in a blanket and lying on a sofa, with the paraffin heater close, gave him a false feeling of warmth, comfort, and security.

  He worried about the pickup, and how it fared against this ferocious thunderstorm. But there was no way he was going outside, to inspect it.

  He tried to sleep but the deafening thunder kept
him awake. The strong lightning flashes lit his room momentarily, bright white every time the lightning came. He could see shadows on the walls, shadows that moved and gave him the creeps. He knew this was only in his imagination, but they were scary, nevertheless.

  He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he woke up to a knock on the living room door. Or was it his imagination?

  He waited, motionless, trying to see if the knocking was imagined or real. This time, he had the security of a firmly locked door, unlike the wooden barricade when he was sleeping inside the unfinished walls. The noise of the wind was still very strong outside, and any knocks on the door were difficult to hear, overwhelmed by the noise of the wind. He waited for gaps between the gusts that came intermittently. Then he heard the knocks again.

  Without saying anything, he got up and moved slowly to the door. He had built a small peephole in the door for situations like this. With the gun in hand, he looked through the peephole without saying any words. He waited for the next lightning flash to see who was knocking on the door.

  And when the flash came, he could see the outline of the elusive visitor, the Bedouin, dressed exactly like when he saw him before. The visitor must have noticed that Sam was at the door, for he said his greetings in his Bedouin accent.

  Sam hesitated. Should he respond or should he ignore it? If he ignored it, he would hold it upon his conscience that, on such a bad night, somebody was asking for help and he didn't offer it. But he was scared. What was a visitor doing out here, in the middle of nowhere, on such a night? Was he the same person he saw before?

  He summoned whatever courage he could muster and asked,

  ‘Who's there?’

  ‘It's me, brother. I need shelter… I need help, please help,’ said the man outside.

  ‘Who are you?’ Sam asked, forgetting the impoliteness of asking guests in the desert on their day of arrival.

  ‘It's me… begging… hoping for your hospitality. It's very bad out here… I need help please,’ came the answer.

  With his hand on his pistol, with a bullet already loaded in the chamber, he slowly opened the door and shone his torch on the visitor. He couldn't see him very clearly because the rain obstructed his view. But that man resembled the guest he had met many weeks ago.

  ‘Come on in, brother guest, come on in,’ Sam said.

  ‘Many thanks… I appreciate it.’

  The guest walked slowly towards the door, took off his shoes and entered. Sam switched the lights on and pointed the guest to sit on the sofa. He could see the complexions of this man then. It was exactly the same elusive visitor he saw many weeks back.

  ‘We have met before, haven't we?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Yes, dear brother… we have.’

  ‘You are most welcome. Let me make some coffee or tea… if I remember you prefer coffee,’ said Sam.

  ‘Yes, many thanks, dear brother. Coffee is what I need… hot coffee in this horrible… cold night.’

  Sam went to the kitchen and brewed coffee for his guest and himself. He returned with the pot and two Finjans and placed them on the table.

  ‘Brother, are you hungry? shall I make you some food? Sam asked.

  ‘Some dates… if you have some… and bread. That's all I need.’

  Sam went back to the kitchen, got some dates and some bread out of the fridge, and brought them back in a plate with a bottle of water, too. He placed them on the coffee table.

  ‘It's a bad night. What brings you out here on such a bad night?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Yes, it's a very bad night… It is a coincidence, isn’t it? The elusive visitor asked with obvious reference to their last meeting.

  ‘Yeah, I'm glad my house is on your way, wherever you're going,’ Sam answered.

  ‘I'm going east… and I'm happy that I stumbled upon your house, again,’ answered the elusive visitor.

  Sam had a good look at his guest, and he was extremely surprised that he was completely dry. There wasn't a drop of rainwater on his face or his garments. Not even the Kalashnikov that he had slung upon his shoulder showed any signs of being out in the rain. That's very strange, Sam taught.

  ‘It's very wet outside… really wet,’ Sam commented.

  Sam was trying to get the Bedouin to talk about how he managed to escape the rain although it was pouring down when he opened the door. But the Bedouin would not divulge any information.

  ‘Congratulations on the new house. When we met last time… it was not finished,’ the elusive visitor said.

  ‘Yeah, absolutely. It took another month or so to get it finished. It’s a small house,’ Sam answered.

  ‘Yes, Sam, it is the right size one needs… to ponder within his mind… on the vastness of the universe, and how we are here,’ the elusive visitor said.

  Sam was again a little surprised because it was as though this man knew why he was here. He knew his name, too. Sam couldn’t remember ever saying his name to the guest before.

  ‘Yeah, you're absolutely right. I wanted time out of the city, so to speak. I wanted to be myself to think about nature and why we're here… What's waiting for us out there. But I'm glad you remember my name,’ Sam commented.

  ‘I know your name. And I know why you're here… and I don't blame you. I've been to the city before, and I don't like the hustle and the bustle there. The noise day and night… you don’t even see the skies. You don’t see what's happening out there… It's boring and dull,’ the elusive visitor elaborated.

  ‘I couldn't agree more. It's boring and debilitating to the soul,’ Sam answered.

  ‘Do you want some blankets? or a bed to sleep in? you can sleep on the sofa or in my bed in the other room,’ said Sam, pointing in the direction of his bedroom.

  ‘No… I should be on my way,’ said the elusive visitor.

  ‘On your way? in this weather? I thought you came here for shelter,’ Sam said, gesturing his surprise.

  ‘Yes, but I should be going. I just wanted to stop over for a little rest… and to have a chat with you. Because I've been here in the desert for a long time, I've seen things and I wanted to perhaps talk to you about such things,’ the elusive visitor said.

  ‘What things?’ asked Sam.

  ‘I mean,… I've experienced a few things that I can’t explain,’ said the guest.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like a camel caravan that I often saw walking slowly against the horizon, only to disappear out of view after a few minutes,’ said the guest.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen it, too,’ said Sam.

  ‘Oh, you've seen this, too?… I was wondering,’ said the guest.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Yes, many people have seen it. I mean many desert people have seen it… and we have a name for it. We call it, the Dusk Caravan,’ said the guest.

  ‘What does it symbolise? Is there an explanation for it?’ asked Sam with obvious enthusiasm.

  ‘Well, nobody knows for real. You’re wondering about the nature of reality and whether reality is an illusion. That camel caravan is a kind of illusion. It doesn't fit within what we see as reality,’ the guest answered.

  Sam was profoundly surprised. He expected people in the desert not to be educated to a level to understand the concept of reality, and what was real and what's an illusion. But here was this gentleman, who appeared knowledgeable about such concepts that he himself did not wonder about only a year ago.

  ‘I also saw what we call UFOs. I saw a UFO in the shape of a little tiny piece of cloud that moved haphazardly at unrealistic angles. At night, I observed a triangular formation of light blobs that moved at very high speeds, unrealistic speeds, and disappeared over the horizon,’ Sam exclaimed.

  ‘Is this all that you saw?’ asked the guest.

  ‘Yeah, within the short time I’ve been here,’ answered Sam.

  ‘Yes, but during your stay over the next few months, you're bound to see more, much more. It will help you understand what you are looking for… in your mind
,’ said the guest.

  ‘Well, I sincerely hope so, and I'm very glad that you stumbled upon my house once again. I take it you don't live very far from here,’ Sam said.

  ‘No… not far,’ answered the guest.

  ‘Is your destination far?’ Sam asked, trying to get some answers.

  ‘It is far, but I'm used to it. It's part of my life and purpose.’

  Sam thought this gentleman guest was ready for whatever he asked, but his answers were vague. He didn’t understand where he came from, where he was going to, and how he managed to remain dry despite the stormy rain outside. He asked all the indirect questions he could think of, but that guest remained vague in his answers.

  ‘I strongly suggest you stay the night here. You can move on in the morning. It is pretty bad out there,’ suggested Sam. He felt comfortable in the company of another human being, although the latter was a complete mystery. He trusted him, though, and didn’t mind if they both slept in the same house. He felt no danger from this elusive guest.

  ‘Thank you, brother. I'll take your suggestion… and will stay the night.’

  Sam went to the storeroom and brought a sleeping bag and some blankets and laid them on the sofa.

  Sam left the guest with the food and the coffee and retired to his bedroom. He still had his gun with him because this guest, although so far had been harmless and even friendly, appeared weird. Was he a thief investigating him and his house? He regretted then asking the guest to stay the night. He was offering to go on his way tonight, and he should have allowed him to do so.

  He stayed in his bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He was perplexed by the appearance of this guest, who managed to remain dry in the middle of a thunderstorm. Slowly he drifted to sleep, and his sleep was deep, uninterrupted by visions or bad dreams. It was a peaceful, satisfying night.