FAUST’S SHADOW: A Twice-Told Tale

by John Fast

  “Take another example: the evolutionary algarithms of painting flow from the pictographs of the prehistoric cave dwellers to the pictures of the contemporary studio artists. And just as the sycamore tree flows the algarithms of earth and air, fire and water, so too the contemporary painter flows the algarithms of light and shadow, surface and depth. The tree and the artist not only embody and inhabit their respective streams of code, but also channel and transform them. And, in this way, the tree and the painter both exhibit and express the genius of nature and the nature of genius.

  “The reflexive attitude of the human, self-conscious, genius toward the streams of code that she flows can range from a respectful honoring to a disrespectful destruction. There is no single attitude which explains the dynamic. Instead, the genius is the catalyst who transforms the past into the future. She not only swims in the stream of algarithms, but also recognizes she is the stream. She wonders where the stream comes from and where it’s going and why it flows this way and what would happen if it flowed that way. And so the genius swims down a river of insight and a cascade of connections to an ocean of marvels.

  “And yet many geniuses swim upstream. Some try to dam and destroy the stream. Some just loll on the bank, or walk into the city. Along the way some are silent, some are incoherent, some are fluent in a single minor dialect, and some speak volumes. And so at times it can be difficult to separate the genius from the dreamer and the dreamer from the madman.

  “The genius doesn’t invent something from nothing, rather she embodies and inhabits particular streams of code–painting, poetry, music, mathematics, physics, biology, etc.–so completely that she renews our awareness of them, and our response to them. That is, she saves us from our tendency to divert these streams into stagnant pools of conservative truths and complacent certainties.

  “In short, the protean energy of the algarithmic stream gives expression to the genius, and the genius gives expression to the protean energy of the algarithmic stream. And the algarithmic stream is just another name for the generative plasticity of our universe which usually remains hidden to us because we freeze and frame, dissect and display it in the grid of energy and matter, time and space. Nevertheless, that amazing plasticity continues to appear in front of our eyes every single day in and through the myriad forms of nature: everything from stars to galaxies, from jellyfish to blue whales. Just think, for a moment, of the evolutionary complexity and transformational power of all these dynamically interrelated codes.

  “The genius sees these rivers of code locked within the frozen edifices of the Empire of Knowledge. She recognizes these ice towers as the necessary illusions of short-lived creatures who cannot look beyond the confines of their academic specializations and financial investments. And she knows that each spring the ice towers melt, the rivers break and the streams flow again. And she waits until she can swim in their generative currents.

  “The genius recognizes herself in the complex and contingent evolutionary algarithms that generate the universe, life, mind, consciousness, science, philosophy, art. She learns how to re-articulate these algarithms, which are the algarithms of her own becoming, and so these algarithms also re-articulate her. That’s why we speak of the genius as both possessed and possessor, recipient and creator. That’s why the quality of genius manifests itself in visions and dreams, insights and intuitions. And that’s why understanding the genius of nature can help us to understand the nature of genius.

  “And perhaps, one day, the quality of genius will emerge even more fully in our machines. Perhaps, one day, we will build a quantum computer and write some quantum algarithms. Perhaps, one day, that computer and those algarithms will evolve some neural nets and pattern recognition programs which will discover the key that unlocks the secrets of the universe.”

  I scooped up the text of my speech and hurried back to my seat amidst a deafening silence. As I sat down a clamorous applause erupted all around me, but I hardly heard it. My mind was racing in overdrive. I wondered if I possessed the quality of genius. And I wondered if I did possess it, or if it possessed me, if I would ever realize its potential.

  *************

  After the ceremony I stood in the amphitheater’s lobby and chatted with my parents and siblings. Then, Professor Alvarez approached.

  “Jena, André,” the Headmaster began. ”You must be very proud of your graduates.”

  “Very proud,“ Jena repeated, smiling at him.

  “Of course,” André agreed.

  Professor Alvarez turned to me and said, “An excellent speech, John. I’d love to have a copy.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I’ll send you one.”

  “Now let’s see,” he continued. “Aster, Isabel, Michael: you’re going to New York to study psychology, painting, music. John: you’re staying here, in Princeton, to study quantum computing. Do I have that right?”

  We nodded and smiled.

  “Excellent, excellent,” Professor Alvarez enthused. “I know you will make the most of these opportunities. And do not forget to use your intelligence for the greater good. Otherwise, the Highbrid Protocol will be a failure.”

  We nodded again.

  *************

  I went to the graduation party at Xi Zhu’s house later that night and danced with Emma, a very beautiful violinist. I yearned for Alexa. I thought about her all the time and struggled with her physical and emotional distance. She was half-way through her undergraduate degree at Oxford, and she had already begun some graduate courses at the London School of Economics. I missed our long walks and intense arguments. And I desperately wanted to speak with her about my Valedictory Address. I wanted to hear her criticisms, her corrections, her insights. I wanted to tell her about the anxiety and confusion I felt as a so called genius, or potential genius, or no genius at all–maybe just a narcissistic teenager.

  So there I was at Xi Zhu’s party feeling sorry for myself and enjoying Emma’s company. And when she invited me back to her cousin’s empty apartment afterwards, I stayed the night. Of course, I felt even more confused and conflicted in the morning. I walked home feeling torn between my desire for Emma and my longing for Alexa.

  CHAPTER 26.

  Transmutation

  I felt positively euphoric when I entered the joint BS/PhD Program in Quantum Computing at the Turing Institute that fall. Why was I so happy? Because I was only seventeen years old and already beginning to fulfill my childhood dreams; because I was learning from some of the best scientists in the world, many of them Highbrids like myself; because I was gaining access to one of the greatest scientific facilities on the planet; and because I was a step closer to unlocking the secrets of nature. In fact, I started to develop some new and powerful ideas right away. I began to see how all the different codes I’d learned might fit together.

  And perhaps at that point I still could have turned back, or turned in a different direction. Perhaps I still could have avoided knowing too much. What if I’d studied something practical, like engineering or carpentry? What if I’d pursued what my old physics professor liked to call, ‘the knowledge of the hands?’ Perhaps I still could have escaped the metaphysics of ambition, the seduction of fate. I still could have freed myself from the early pull of the grave.

  I was thinking about the genius of nature and the nature of genius again on a cold, rainy afternoon in October. And I decided to visit my father at the Genetic Institute.

  “Have you ever thought about genetic difference and physiological variation in the context of evolutionary algarithms?” I asked as I entered his book-lined office.

  André looked up from his desk screen.

  “Hello to you too, John Fast,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was thinking about finding patterns, making connections, flowing code … as usual,” I replied, taking the chair next to his desk. “And I was thinking that your search for the statistical probabilities of genetic difference points toward the evolutionary algarithms
of life on earth.”

  “Explain,” André requested as he rocked back and forth in his spring loaded chair.

  “Okay,” I began again. “If I understand your work, the range of genetic difference is limited by the number of possible variations.”

  “Right. Genes can subdivide, recombine, mutate and drift in millions of different ways, but these various possibilities don’t have an infinite range, and they don’t all occur all at once. Also, the various hierarchical sets of genes enforce certain restrictions. Of course, many genetic differences don’t appear to make any difference anyway. However, some do express new traits which can lead to new adaptations and, eventually, to new species–when they’re selected over and again by their evolving ecological niches.”

  “So,” I continued. “You remember how Turing, in his later work, began to wonder if he could identify the differential equations that articulate the bio-logic of cell division. And I was wondering if I could identify the evolutionary algarithms that articulate the bio-logic of genetic difference, including the way proteins fold, stem cells specialize, etc. In other words, I was wondering if it all comes down to the same question of life, mind, consciousness, genius again.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Are life, mind, consciousness, genius just pure accidents? A result of purely arbitrary bio-chemical chances? Or does the Highbrid Protocol actually represent a kind of refined small scale version of an as yet unrecognized large scale process: the evolutionary algarithms of genetic difference? Perhaps the Highbrid Protocol is making explicit, in a minor way, a process that’s already implicitly at work throughout nature. Perhaps all the Highbrid Protocol really does is speed things up a bit by concentrating the contingent, evolutionary dynamic of code.”

  André sat in silence for awhile, thinking.

  “Let me see if I understand you correctly,” he said after a minute or so. “You’re wondering if the relatively limited range of genetic difference, from one generation of plant and animal to the next, could be expressions of previously unrecognized evolutionary algarithms? And life, mind, consciousness, genius would be long-term contingent articulations of these same algarithms? And the Highbrid Protocol mimics and speeds up this dynamic by concentrating its generative power?”

  “Yes. There must be some sort of quantum-molecular, electro-chemical algarithms which express the various, relatively limited, possibilities of difference. And these various possibilities would then be further examples of dynamic integrated complexity: the contingent evolutionary potential of nonlinear code to reach new levels of coherence.”

  “Hmm,” André intoned. “Is it possible that some previously unrecognized evolutionary algarithms articulate the adaptive possibilities of bio-complexity? And is it possible that the Highbrid Protocol taps into, and concentrates, the flow of specific kinds of algarithms, thus speeding up the development of genius?”

  “That’s it. I mean, what’s the Genetic Institute highbridizing after all?” I asked. “Not arbitrary qualities, but the protean dynamic of specific kinds of algarithms which evolve the synaptic networks that stretch toward the range of genius.”

  At that moment one of my father’s research assistants popped his head in the doorway and asked a question about an experiment they were running. And while they talked I thought about the algarithms of genius.

  CHAPTER 27.

  Transmutation, Continued

  When his research assistant left, my father turned back to me and picked up our conversation.

  “Why can’t a billion years of contingent and necessary adaptation be responsible for creating smart human beings?” He asked.

  “Because,” I replied, “that explanation makes the dynamic of contingency and necessity as miraculous and metaphysical as the theory of logic and design. And that’s why we need to ask the previous question: Why do life, mind, consciousness, genius emerge at all? Darwin’s theory of evolution was a three-legged chair: population growth, physiological variation, natural selection. But variation of what? Darwin didn’t know. Selection of what? Again he didn’t know. Darwin didn’t know a thing about genetics. He probably never read Mendel’s article.

  “And so, without evoking any theological or metaphysical argument, without relying on any theory of inevitable progress, or inescapable design, why can’t we ask how the contingent, dynamic complexities of life, mind, consciousness, genius emerge? Why can’t we cross the boundary of Darwin’s knowledge? Of course, Darwin had to set up that boundary in the first place in order to open up a space for his theory. He had to push aside all the previous theological and metaphysical arguments which cluttered the field. And yet he left us with the binary opposition of contingency and necessity vs. logic and design. But now that we know more about the complexity of genetics, why not think about the dialectic of chaotic order and orderly chaos?

  “Your probability studies point toward the evolutionary algarithms of the genetic code and the genometric dynamic of that code. They suggest an analogy with the evolutionary algorithms of the cybernetic code and its mathematic dynamic. And that’s why I’m trying to evolve some quantum algarithms, just like the Genetic Institute is trying to evolve us. I want to tap into their transformative power. I want to write quantum algarithms that will evolve ever more complex neural nets that will evolve ever more powerful pattern recognition programs. I want to use those programs to discover the key to all codes. And I want to use that key to unlock the secrets of the universe.”

  I looked expectantly at my father, seeking his approval.

  André was deep in thought.

  “You want to evolve some algarithms that will lead us to the key to all codes,” he said, summing up my argument. “I understand that. And, as for my work, I’m still trying to find the evidence for the probabilities of genetic difference, protein folding, cell specialization, etc. I’m still gathering the data. It’ll take me another five years, at least, before I reach the point where I might be able to write a computer program that can collate the facts. And even then there isn’t enough computer processing power on earth to run the program. You might say the algarithms of genometric complexity are far too complex for our computers to identify, analyze and process. It might take another 13.73 billion years, and another universe, to run the program. And, anyway, we’re still trying to figure out how individual traits happen to emerge, on a genetic level, let alone what something like the quantum algarithms of genometric complexity might look like. We haven’t poked our heads that high up, or that low down. However, I have enormous respect for your argument. I like the idea of the Highbrid Protocol tapping into the stream of evolutionary algarithms. And I like the analogy between evolutionary algorithms and evolutionary algarithms, but analogies don’t prove an argument. In fact, they can be very misleading. Most people have ten fingers: Why? Is it because evolution has been working toward the metric system for 13.73 billion years? I don’t think so.

  “You’re right, though. My probability studies do show that evolution works within certain relatively limited ranges of genetic difference, but that’s a truism. And I don’t have the evidence to say that these ranges represent some kind of algarithmic set which interacts with the algarithmic sets of their evolving ecological niches. So it might just be enough to say that some undefinable genetic contingencies sometimes lead to viable traits and adaptations. And even if it’s not enough to say that, even if we use the phrase ‘genetic contingencies’ as a temporary stopgap metaphor in the same way that we use the phrases, ‘genetic drift’ and ‘junk DNA,’ then, as I said, we still don’t have the program, or the computer, powerful enough to find the patterns in the flow.

  “Also, don’t forget the sociological problems that arise whenever anyone attempts to cross the boundaries of knowledge. Don’t forget the taboos and punishments. I recently gave a paper that barely hinted at the possibility of some patterns in the statistical probabilities of genetic difference, and I was severely chastised by my colleagues. They said my argument was a naiv
e form of Deism at best, or a sly form of Creationism at worst. They said it was yet another version of the so called, Theory of Intelligent Design. And they won’t hesitate to pin that label on your argument as well.”

  “But I’m not making the case for Intelligent Design. Not at all.”

  “I know, but that’s what your argument will be reduced to. And that’s how it will be dismissed.”

  I pondered that inevitable outcome for a moment and it made me angry.

  “One day,” I declared, “when I’ve had more practice, I’ll write some quantum-driven neo-evolutionary algarithms, and I’ll build a quantum computer to run them. Then we can analyze your data and get the answers.”

  André smiled at my youthful optimism and determination.

  “I believe you will do that, John,” he said.

  I felt encouraged by his support, so I went a step further.

  “Do you think I could give a paper on my evolutionary algarithms at the Genetic Theory Conference next month?” I asked.

  “Some people will think I put you up to it,” André cautioned. “They’ll leap at the opportunity to make you, what Paxton would call, my double and scapegoat. And while I have every confidence in your debating skills, I wouldn’t want to put you in that position.”

  “I appreciate that, Dad. And I wouldn’t want to speak for you, or have your colleagues mistake my arguments for yours.”

  My father looked me in the eye and said, “I would be happy … I am very happy … that your work is connected with mine.”

  “Then it’s okay?” I replied eagerly.

  “I admire the daring of your ideas, John. I’m very proud of you.”

  I looked down at my shoes, basking in the glow of his approval.

  “Thanks Dad,” I said.

  CHAPTER 28.

  The Mysterious Forces of Nature