My Hypothetical Child

The universe is a vast and chaotic place. Once, for a short segment of time (about 10000 years), a small cozy network of hallways with adjoining single occupancy offices materialized in the otherwise empty void of space. The materialization of some structure or another would normally be a failrly regular and routine occurance in space (if one ignores the passage of time amd the vast relative distances between locations) and, otherwise, would not be worth mentioning. But in this particular instance, inside the structure, there also materialized what one can refer to as observers. Some small number of observers and few enough that relative to the size of the structure, they may never have encountered one another. One observer in particular, materialized in a small room with a desk, chair, and a bed. On the desk was a notebook. This notebook just happened to be entangled with a number of particles on a planet some vast number of light years away perhaps not even in the same universe (if there is more than one). These entangled particles were part of the bits of whats called a server, and this particular server hosted a website that a small number of readers would find, and fewer still would come to read. Through this quite common style of coincidence, one might come to know that inside the journal were entries like the following:

They told me that writing down who I was - where I was - would provide me some level of comfort. In truth, I knew it would. But around the time that all of this started, I felt busy, and I put off making this entry for several months until now.

I have some desire to say that my supervisor checked in on me and expressed displeasure that I had not yet attempted an entry of this nature, but even if such a check-in occured it couldn’t directly cause me to take action in the sense that nothing external to us can have any effect on what happens internally. Inside our heads, in the depth of our minds, a process is running its course and just for fun we correlate that process with what we take in through our senses, but, in the end, we’re just fooling ourselves; there’s no internal and external; no inside and outside. There’s just this place where I am, and I’m just a part of this place.

So with that out of the way, this entry will explain who I am and where I am in order to give future readers of this log of observations more context with which to understand this work.

I have a vague memory of being led down a narrow hallway and shown to the room I currently reside in, but I doubt that memory is a true reflection of reality. It seems much more likely that the elements inside the room came together randomly, luckily, some number of months ago, all of a sudden, to create what I am now, and the hallway memory all at once. In fact, that may not have happened months ago, but rather just moments ago. Or just this instant. Actually, I might never - at any moment in time - ever have sat here and wrote in this journal at all. Maybe similar elements converged just right to create you and all the memories you’ve ever had and the thoughts your having right now about reading my log book.

As for where I am, I could easily be anywhere. From immediate observation, I’m in a small rectangular room with a desk, a chair, and a bed. On the desk is a thin log book in which I write my observations. The book has a matt black cover and the pages inside have an evently spaced grid of dots to help one align sentences and draw diagrams if necessary.

There was nothing visible to “observe” in the room. Not exactly. Yet, when I sat down to write in the log book, I felt a strong connection to another place. I could imagine a very consistent planet sized region of space in a striking level of detail. Enough detail that it felt as though I was there most times when I imagined it. I could easily observe anything in this world in as much or as little detail as I wanted. I can take no directly responsibility for any articles dated prior to this one, and like-wise I can claim no ownership of anything that follows…