The Horton Dilemma [ONC 2022]

JOURNEY TO INNER SPACE

Leaving my body far behind, I shoot up. Not into the ceiling, and not into the sky; into another level of existence. Then another. Then another. Shattering ceilings I never knew were there. It's like I'm taking a high-speed elevator through planes of existence, each plane having enveloped the one that came before it—like a series of Russian dolls. Like a series of concentric worlds. I leave my universe so far underneath me, I'm not even sure I'll ever go back.

That uncertainty frightens me. Will I be lost out here forever? Will I never return?

I feel far more lucid than I thought I would—I still remember who I am and where I'm from—and that makes this experience all the more frightening. What if I'm stuck in here for eternity? Time distortion is included among the perceptual distortions. What if my mind is stuck in this place, and time has stopped moving for me? What if this moment draws out forever?

Everything is dark, and quiet, and odorless, and tasteless, and textureless—I am floating in the void of nothingness. Is this the chaos that existed before my universe?

No—it isn't. Like I've put on glasses for the first time after a lifetime of blindness, blurry shapes begin to emerge. Fractalling, undulating shapes.

Then sounds. Spinning? Cranking? The sounds are mechanical.

Then smells. The smells are new, and fresh, and cold. It smells cold here.

It tastes cold here, and sweet, and metallic, and sour, like an arctic, aluminum lemon.

Those words play out in my mind: arctic aluminum lemon. Arctic aluminum lemon. Arctic aluminum lemon.

The words make me giggle.

Suddenly I feel so comfortable, so warm, in this place, my previous uncertainty forgotten.

The fractaling and undulating has stopped, and I can finally make sense of what I'm seeing.

The place looks hyper-futuristic, the kind of futurism that humans haven't even conceptualized because our imaginations are so limited by our own experience. I try to put what I'm seeing into words as best I can. Boxy shapes surround me, some sort of hardware. Not just cubicle hardware: an array of polyhedronical hardware (but perhaps with more than three dimensions; it's difficult to explain), with all numbers of sides and all degrees of angles. Everything shines metallic and is dotted with colorful, glowing lights. What's more: it looks alive, every bit of it. And it looks like citrus tastes, although that doesn't really make sense. It's like I've entered an alien space station.

This station seems to have no ceiling, and the hyper-dimensional technology merges with what might be the sky. Floating above are spheres, little dark purplish glowing globules, like dark stars dotting an even darker celestial expanse. They aren't stars, though; this doesn't feel like the space I know. This feels new. New and unknown.

I suddenly become re-aware of my own body, not the body I left behind but the one I'm projecting here. I sit atop a metal table. What kind of metal? I'm not sure...perhaps it's a metal without an existing place on our current periodic table.

Surrounding me are creatures, humanoid lizards with greenish scaly skin, bejeweled in yet more stunning colors, colors I've never before experienced, colors no human words can describe. They look more crocodilian than anything, although they don't possess extended snouts. Some of their milky-marble eyes pierce me, but I get the feeling they all know why I'm here, that they've seen humans like me before, that they've been expecting me.

No: it's more than a feeling. It's a knowing.

One stands very close to me. A distinct masculine energy emanates from his body, so I assume he is a "he." Strumming one of his clawed hands on a hyper-technological scepter, which is held by his other hand, he cocks his head at me, gazing at me with his slitted pupils, and I know he's greeting me. Not in a way I can see, or hear...it's an extrasensory greeting, a form of telepathy.

The other reptilian creatures do the same. I know they are benevolent creatures; they tell me as much. Not through words.

No words are used here. No thoughts. Just knowings.

I can know that the reptilian creatures want something from me. The one nearest me seems to be the conduit for conveying this information to me. He nears me, his presence somewhat overbearing.

There is something so majestic about him; I can sense a hyperintelligence in him, in all of them. In their presence, I am merely an underling.

Yet the one who has caught my eye continues to watch me in interest, as though I am something of interest, underling that I am.

Your people are getting better at traveling here. Our connections grow stronger each time one of you emerges from this reality's fabric. You've traveled so very far. What will you give me?

Now I cock my head. It isn't truly my head—my head is back where I came from. What I am is what they must call an astral projection—a term that didn't make much sense to me before now. What could you possibly want from me?

He looms closer. There is a sense of urgency to his desire for something from me, like he knows I won't be here long, and indeed, even I can feel something pulling at me, getting ready to take me away, to put me back where I came from.

Give me the essence of yourself, human. Help us to understand you. I shall give you something in return. I will tell you what you need to know. 

My essence? I think to myself. What is it that makes me me?

He comes closer, one of his webbed, crocodilian paws nearing my stomach. His jeweled metal scepter emanates a strange technological power.

Give it to me. Quickly.

I reach into the pit of my stomach, where he's trying to reach, and my fingers go right through my astrally projected skin, as though my skin is merely just a hologram. I feel the red strands of something inside of me (yes, they feel red, although I can't see them). That something is the thing that makes me me. I feel more certain of this than I have ever felt of anything. My hand plucks a piece of it from my center, tearing it away from the other part of itself, and I present it to him, the red strands now fully visible.

His crocodilian eyes widen in what seems like surprise, like no other human has given him such a gift before. Is that good, or bad? The tip of his scepter bends to my hands.

Whatever the answer to my question may be, it's too late to take it back now: I've given him a piece of my curiosity, and his scepter has just sucked it right up.

subchapter | monism versus dualism

Dualism is the belief that there are two kinds of reality: the material reality and the immaterial reality. The material reality is that which is made of physical substance, while the immaterial reality is that which can't be experienced through senses or proven through the use of human tools. Many dualists consider the immaterial reality to have spiritual qualities.

Monism, on the other hand, is the belief that the material reality is the only reality, that all things deemed "spiritual" are nonexistent or not actually spiritual.

A dualist likely won't believe that we can ever create artificial consciousness—that immaterial things like consciousness cannot be made using materials.

A monist likely does believe artificial consciousness can be created; they believe consciousness is a mechanism and that humans are machines, absent of any spiritual component. Creating artificial intelligence just requires us to understand the inner workings of the consciousness mechanism.

A dualist will likely believe in some form of life after this life, although not necessarily a heaven (there are dualists of all religious stripes: monotheists, polytheists, pantheists, panentheists, deists...all have different conceptualizations of what life might look like after this life).

A monist does not believe in human life after human death, because a monist does not believe in spiritual concepts like souls...a monist believes (in the words of Bertrand Russell) that when someone dies, their body rots, and nothing of their ego survives.

What if both views can be reconciled? What if there is an immaterial, spiritual component to life, but we can access and manipulate it with our physical selves? What if we can experience the worlds beyond this life, without having to first experience death?