Category: Generic Sentient Beings
Updated on April 4, 2018
Hunches, Guesses, and Mistakes
Now, we see the lens for what it truly is –
A powerful but flawed entity groping its way through an internal environment.
We probed the inner workings of the generic mind and familiarized ourselves with lenses in our previous post. We also learned from the mere existence of issues like the problem of foreign context that lenses can be less than perfect. Now it’s time to take this issue to the next level and call our attention to greater flaws lurking just beneath the surface. We will begin by casually observing a lens in its natural environment, and will eventually end by torturing the poor specimen with a battery of thought experiments.
The Internal Environment
What is the best word to describe an abstract space governed by a set of rules, capable of hosting entities that interact with one another according to these rules? A group? A field? A system? I tend to think of these as environments, no matter how abstract its rules or entities may be. Just as the Earth is an environment occupied by countless living organisms, the Internet can be thought of as an environment for data and programs, and perhaps the law can be seen as an environment filled with documents and historic cases. In much the same way, each generic sentient being contains a unique internal environment hosting a complex interaction between memories, emotions, and beliefs. Every observation, action and moment spent in deep thought will affect the relationship between the entities in this internal environment, even if the effects can be quite subtle. Conversely, the internal environment will strongly affect the judgments a generic will make and the actions he will take. In fact, the internal environment is probably just as important to a generic as the external environment that he lives in.
Updated on September 12, 2020
Of Lenses and Experiences
What secrets can we find, deep within the generic mind?
What secrets will he find, through lenses trapped within his own mind?
In my previous post, I explained how context deeply permeates every thought and action in the generic society, and how mistakes such as the internal attribution error or the rational choice assumption constantly prevent generics from connecting with one another. Did my overall pessimism about the generics’ ability to understand context change the way you view their society? Are most generics forced to experience life in total emotional isolation? What value is there in a life without shared experiences or the ability to form a deeper connection with others?
Sure, the generics constantly fight or argue over petty issues, but at least they haven’t collectively despaired and declared all their interactions meaningless. Generics are usually aware of their limited ability to contextualize each other’s actions, so clearly they must still value something. As it turns out, generics aren’t fatalistic beings waiting for a meaningless life to flash before their eyes. Each generic sentient being is on a journey of self-improvement, slowly tweaking his beliefs to accommodate the seemingly incomprehensible choices of those around him. The generics will find meaning in their interpretations and judgments even if they later find flaws in their reasoning. They feel euphoric when they understand a friend slightly better than before, even if his choices still seem like a complete mystery. If you had backdoor access to the generic mind, you could watch hundreds of generics bumping into one another trying making sense of their jumbled world, and truly appreciate the inevitability of this lifelong journey. The analyst in me naturally wanted to know if these generics had any hope of success. Of course, in my attempt to answer this question I ended up creating a very complex theory on the inner workings of the generic mind.
Updated on April 4, 2018
Out of Context, Out of Reach
In a confusing world where no move makes sense,
We must look deeper into the fog and see the context behind each event as it unfolds.
Without telepathic abilities, we could never know for sure how other people think or why they choose to behave in certain ways. This definitely hasn’t stopped us from trying though – our minds tirelessly produce, refine and share organized beliefs (or schemata) about how others act based on our past experiences. These beliefs are sometimes based on time-tested theories in psychology, but more often than not they’re just basic intuitions a person has about his friends or enemies. Whether we choose to laugh away a person’s quirky behavior, briefly scowl at an act of impoliteness, or openly attack a group of individuals after one of its members did something slightly unpleasant, we mostly rely on schemata to interpret and eventually judge each other’s actions.
Our hard-earned beliefs don’t generalize to the unpredictable thoughts and decisions of the generic sentient beings though. In the absence of other information, a generic’s actions essentially have no inherent meaning.
Updated on September 12, 2020
The Tale of the Generics
An introduction to a strange mind and how its scientific way of thinking created a model world populated by generic sentient beings, or “generics”.
My mind tries very hard to make me think like a scientist. On the one hand, subconscious processes constantly scan my thoughts for claims to prove or disprove. After spending a brief moment analyzing, my mind would either reward me with a stamp of approval, or it would play devil’s advocate and make a counterargument of some kind. I can’t confidently make a statement until it passes a battery of quality assurance tests. Even then, the words would come out of my mouth with a generous amount of uncertainty mixed in. On the other hand, my mind prevents me from taking anything at face value. It believes that every event has a cause; that every action has motives; that every belief has rationale behind it. Like a curious child, it would stop me in my tracks, point to something and ask why?. If I couldn’t keep up with this perpetual stream of why?‘s, I would be punished with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction lasting for weeks.
For the most part, this quirk of mine didn’t bother me too much. I suppose it made me a weirder person by forcing me to spend an unusual amount of time reading textbooks, watching educational YouTube videos, and aimlessly pacing around the neighborhood in deep thought. It probably also played a part in developing my affinity toward research papers and computer source code as opposed to news articles, essays or novels. But soon enough, I found a more serious problem. When I find myself in front of other people, I’d feel an uncomfortable urge to question the motives behind their every action. What did his words really mean? What is he trying to get out of this meeting? If I was unlucky, my worries over a friendly conversation would snowball into a frantic analysis of several imagined personalities, annotated by the solutions to various zero-sum games.
Against my better judgment, my mind decided to study some psychology and sociology in order to understand people better. My intensive studying brought me close to many great ideas, but as meaningful as the two subjects were I knew they couldn’t capture the intricate details of how a person thinks and acts. Besides, academic study clearly wouldn’t make me feel less uncomfortable in front of another person. In a stroke of luck, my mind one day decided to stop over-complicating every interaction I had with other people. It hadn’t given up its quest for answers; it instead chose to tackle the problem from a different angle. It was going to design a grossly simplified model of human society, and study that model instead. I was a little shocked by how bizarre this idea was, but I mostly just felt thankful for being able to talk to other people without having to analyze their every word.
From that point on, my mind would pull out an imaginary notebook and silently scribble away whenever I watched a movie, met another person, or sat idly in front of my computer listening to a nearby group of people having a passionate conversation. In my dreams, my mind would take out the notebook and summon the various creatures described in its pages. I later jokingly decided to call these creatures generic sentient beings (or generics for short). As my mind tirelessly worked on improving its model, I watched the generics gradually transform from mindless logicians to lively beings full of dreams and aspirations. They initially ignored each other and lived solitary lives, but eventually they started to share their experiences and identify themselves as members of a generic society. The more confused I felt with the real world and its ambiguous catch-all terms like equality, intelligence and love, the closer my mind grew to its world of generic sentient beings.
In a strange way, this model world lacked structure. Generics often thought or acted in alien ways that defied common sense. No two generics held the same beliefs, felt the same emotions or interpreted events in the same way. The generic society always wavered in its core values, never settling on a universal code of ethics. Nonetheless, this world fascinated my mind. Despite the unpredictability of the race as a whole, there were clear reasons behind every choice a generic made. There was always a motive behind a conscious act; a set of hopes and dreams explaining every moment of frustration and burst of excitement. It’s sometimes impossible to find and truly appreciate these reasons without an omniscient point of view; from the eyes of another generic, the truth tends to feel incomplete, superficial even. Still, this model world offered more clarity than one could ever hope to glean from the real world.
More importantly, my mind saw great potential hiding within the generic sentient beings. Their society functioned remarkably smoothly considering how dissimilar its members were. Though the generics always felt frustrated and misunderstood, they could still form meaningful friendships and cooperate toward bigger goals (albeit inefficiently). My mind was convinced that with very minimal outside influence, the generics can learn to drastically improve their own lives. A pair of generics could hold friendly conversations about their lives even if they fundamentally differed in their core values and beliefs. A closely knit group of generics would be sensitive enough to lift each other’s spirits in times of need, and daring enough to argue against each other when any member goes too far. When faced with a large problem, the generic society can feel reasonably confident that its minds will cooperate and eventually offer a solution. The generics would then agree to carry out the solution even if half of them believed in a radically different approach. I felt my mind shift gears as it began to search for the strategies needed to help the generics live up to their full potential. After spending all its time creating the model, my mind’s work had really just begun. Feeling a bit playful at the time, I coined a new word to describe my mind’s budding research into its model world: Proficiology.
At this point, my mind has taken so many notes that it’s starting to run low on imaginary notebooks. I think the time is ripe to transition to a digital notebook and introduce the generic sentient beings to other minds. I hope you’ll find generic lives just as fascinating as I did. Maybe you too will come up with great ways to improve the generic society. If I’m lucky, one of you might even create your own world of generic sentient beings, making generickind a truly interplanetary civilization. You don’t necessarily have to do anything though; my only goal here is to keep the tale of the generics alive and to keep our minds spinning.
