I Am a Strange Loop by Douglas R. Hofstadter

reread one phrase in the article, and so on. As t-zero approached and finally the comet hit Jupiter’s far side exactly as predicted, denizens of the Earth paid enormous attention to this remote cosmic event. There is no doubt that many months before the comet hit Jupiter, certain fender-benders took place on our planet that wouldn’t have taken place if the comet hadn’t been coming, certain babies were conceived that wouldn’t have been conceived otherwise, certain flies were swatted, certain coffee cups were chipped, and so on. All of this crazy stuff happening on our tiny planet was due to a comet coasting through silent space billions of miles away and nearly half a million minutes in advance of its encounter with the huge planet.
    The point is that one gets into very hot water if one goes the fully reductionistic route; not only do all the objects in “the system” become microscopic and uncountably numerous, but also the system itself grows beyond bounds in space and time and becomes, in the end, the entire universe taken over all of time. There is no comprehensibility left, since everything is shattered into a trillion trillion trillion invisible pieces that are scattered hither and yon. Reductionism is merciless.

    Taking a Higher-level View of the Careenium
    If, on the other hand, there is a perceptible and comprehensible “logic” to events at the level of epiphenomena, then we humans are eager to jump to that level. In fact, we have no choice. And so we do talk of volcanoes and eruptions and lava and so forth. Likewise, we talk of bitten fingernails and rye bread and wry smiles and Jewish senses of humor rather than of cells and proteins, let alone of atoms and photons. After all, we ourselves are pretty big epiphenomena, and as I’ve already observed many times in this book, this fact dooms us to talking about the world in terms of other epiphenomena at about our size level ( e.g., our mothers and fathers, our cats and cars and cakes, our sailboats and saxophones and sassafras trees).
    Now let’s return to the careenium and talk about what happens in it. The way I’ve portrayed it so far focuses on the simms and their dashing and bashing. The simmballs are also present, but they serve a similar function to the walls — they are just big stationary objects off of which the simms bounce. In my mind’s eye, I often see the simms as acting like the silver marbles in a pinball machine, with the simmballs acting like the “pins” — that is, the larger stationary cylindrical objects which the marbles strike and ricochet off of as they roll down the sloped board of play.
    But now I’m going to describe a different way of looking at the careenium, which is characterized by two perceptual shifts. First, we shift to time-lapse photography, meaning that imperceptibly slow motions get speeded up so as to become perceptible, while fast motions become so fast that they are not even seen as blurs — they become imperceptible, like the spinning blades of an electric fan. The second shift is that we spatially back away or zoom out, thus rendering simms too small to be seen, and so the simmballs alone necessarily become our focus of attention.
    Now we see a completely different type of dynamics on the table. Instead of seeing simms bashing into what look like large stationary blobs, we realize that these blobs are not stationary at all but have a lively life of their own, moving back and forth across the table and interacting with each other, as if there were nothing else on the table but them. Of course we know that deep down, this is all happening thanks to the teeny-weeny simms’ bashing-about, but we cannot see the simms any more. In our new way of seeing things, their frenetic careening-about on the table forms nothing but a stationary gray background.
    Think of how the water in a glass sitting on a table seems completely still to us. If our eyes could shift levels (think of the twist that zooms binoculars