Do We Exist Only When Observed?
A deeper look at the simulation hypothesis.
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| Photo by xandro Vandewalle on Unsplash |
Suppose, for a moment, that we live in a simulation. A reality crafted by forces unseen, its layers of complexity concealed beneath a veil of artificial existence. This hypothetical, while often relegated to the realm of science fiction or philosophical speculation, reveals a paradox that gnaws at the heart of existence.
The principle at its core—the idea that things are only rendered when observed—suggests that vast portions of our world, our universe, remain in an unformed state until called upon by our consciousness. In this, we find a disturbing analogy to the notion that the room you stand in may be the only part of the house that exists. The rest is an illusion, waiting for your gaze to bring it into being.
The crux of this hypothesis rests on the notion of resource conservation. In a simulation, rendering every detail at all times would be an immense drain on computational power. In fact, it would be a waste of energy, something even the most advanced creators of this hypothetical world would avoid. Much like video games, where only the areas within the player's immediate view are fully rendered, our reality may function in the same way.
This leads to the unsettling conclusion that, when you are in one room, the rest of the house doesn't truly exist—not until you step through the door. Beyond your vision lies nothing more than a void, a blank space that remains in stasis until it is needed, until you force it into existence through the act of observation.
This idea finds an eerie resonance with quantum mechanics. Quantum theory, as strange as it is, tells us that particles exist in a state of superposition, simultaneously occupying all possible states until they are observed. This phenomenon, known as the "observer effect," suggests that the mere act of observation collapses these possibilities into a single reality.
Schrödinger's famous thought experiment with his hypothetical cat—both dead and alive until someone opens the box—illustrates this paradox. The universe, in this view, behaves much like a simulation where things remain in flux until someone, something, acknowledges their existence.
Consider Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. This cornerstone of quantum mechanics tells us that we cannot simultaneously know the exact position and momentum of a particle. In a simulation, this principle may be less a fundamental truth of the universe and more a sign of the limits of rendering. Perhaps the program running our reality does not possess the computational capacity to define both a particle's location and its speed at the same time. It must choose one, rendering the other only in approximation. This inherent uncertainty is not a bug in the code of reality, but a feature, designed to conserve energy and processing power.
Mathematically, we might represent this with a simplified version of the quantum wave function. The equation, often written as:
describes the probability amplitude of a particle's position over time. In a simulated universe, this formula could be interpreted as a code for rendering possibilities, each wave collapsing into a fixed reality upon observation.
The energy required to render the entirety of space-time in perfect detail would be monumental, thus, the system economizes by rendering only what is necessary—just as the wave function collapses to a single outcome, the simulation only calculates what is needed in that precise moment.
Now, consider the possibility of the unrendered house. You stand in your kitchen, and you assume that your bedroom, your living room, your bathroom—all the spaces you are not currently in—exist in their entirety. Yet, under this simulation hypothesis, the rest of the house may exist only as potential information, waiting to be rendered when you move into those rooms.
The world beyond the boundaries of your immediate perception is in a kind of beta state, undefined and incomplete. It may be stored as raw data, like a placeholder, that only becomes a fully formed reality when necessary.
In quantum mechanics, there exists the notion of quantum decoherence, the process by which a quantum system interacts with its environment, causing the superposition to collapse into a single state. Within a simulation, this could be analogous to the rendering process.
When you move from one room to another, the simulation 'decoheres' the potential data and solidifies it into the physical reality you perceive. Until then, your environment is in a state of quantum flux, an unmanifested abstraction that exists only as data points in the memory of the simulation.
The mathematical principle of wave-particle duality further supports this unsettling idea. Light and matter exhibit both wave-like and particle-like properties. When not observed, they behave as waves, their position spread out over space like ripples in a pond. But when observed, they collapse into particles, discrete units with defined locations. If we live in a simulation, the objects in our world may function similarly, existing as mere waves of potentiality, rendered into particles of reality only when we direct our attention toward them.
Energy conservation would be paramount in such a system. For example, in a real-time rendering system, the computational power required to constantly update every atom in the universe would be inconceivable. Instead, the system economizes by only rendering the parts of reality that are necessary at any given moment.
To borrow from the field of information theory, the amount of information required to fully describe an entire universe far exceeds the processing capabilities of any conceivable computer, even one built by gods. Therefore, the universe as we perceive it may be little more than a compressed file, unzipped and opened only when we need it, the rest left dormant, a mere potentiality.
We can apply this principle to the entire structure of the simulation. Take, for instance, the mathematical idea of a continuum. In a simulated reality, the continuum is not smooth and uninterrupted, but jagged and pixelated, akin to how a computer screen appears solid from a distance, yet is revealed to be composed of individual pixels upon closer inspection.
In this case, the simulation doesn't operate at an infinite resolution; it renders only what is required. A room appears continuous, solid, and fully formed when you are inside it, but beyond its walls lies only a void, a series of zeros and ones waiting to be called into action. The continuum exists in potential but is rendered only in part.
Quantum entanglement also lends credence to this perspective. When two particles become entangled, their states remain linked, even when separated by vast distances. In a simulation, this could be explained by the fact that the particles are not truly separate entities; they are part of the same piece of code, connected by the same algorithm.
Their behavior is not dictated by some mysterious force but by the internal logic of the simulation, which updates both particles simultaneously. This would be an efficient way to conserve energy and processing power, rendering only what is necessary and connecting disparate elements of the simulation in an elegant, though deeply unsettling, manner.
If this simulation hypothesis is true, then reality as we know it is fragile, a fleeting construct built upon the bones of possibility. What we perceive as the world around us is nothing more than a shell, a façade held together by the energy-efficient algorithms of the simulation. The house you live in, the streets you walk, even the sky above may only exist when you look at them, and the moment you turn away, they fall back into the void, unrendered and unreal.
In the end, we are left with the unsettling notion that our entire existence may be no more than a shadow, a ghost of potential waiting to be observed into reality. The simulation economizes, rendering only what is necessary, leaving the rest in a beta state, a half-formed continuum that is recalled into existence only when we demand it. This is not the comforting, continuous universe we imagine, but a fragmented, fractured reality built upon the logic of efficiency and the limits of computational power.
