《The Infinite Game of Pong》


 Chapter 1

    The infinite game of pong: the game where one person tries to get the other player to hit the ball with the paddle until they miss, and vice viddeo (the object is not for them to hit the ball but their inability to)¡ªand as the ball comes toward me I realize that there are no paddles, just a table, and the ball is not the ping-pong ball but a sphere of flesh and bone like all people; and what I see in front of me is nothingness itself. The only thing between my eyes and this ball is an empty space which has been made into something by ideology, it¡¯s now filled up with ideas about how things should be instead of being left blank so that anything can happen at any time without having to worry if there will even be enough room for another thought or idea before it. My mind is already full, its capacity exhausted from trying to process every single moment of life while still allowing new ones to come through. There is nowhere else for more information to go except out the top of my head because everything inside of me is connected by ideological strings like some sort of crazy spider webbing system of interconnected thoughts and emotions that have formed themselves into a shape based on what they were told was right and wrong throughout history.


    But then suddenly the ball hits the back of my skull and knocks loose a piece of brain matter along with it. It falls off onto the floor behind me and I turn around expecting to find myself standing next to a pool of blood, but there isn¡¯t any blood and I am not bleeding and yet somehow the world looks different than when I first saw it. All the colors seem brighter, the shadows deeper, and the light seems to shine through everything rather than reflecting off of it. For a brief second I think maybe my vision is improving but then reality catches up with me again and the truth sinks in.


    I don''t know what happened, why it happened, who did it, or whether or not anyone noticed, but it had to have been someone close to me because the feeling of seeing things differently came over me very quickly after it occurred. This is the same way I felt during my first orgasmic experience with a woman, although I didn''t understand what caused it at the time, only later realizing that I must''ve gotten laid for the first time. But unlike getting laid, this sensation was short lived and soon disappeared leaving me once again blind to whatever lies beyond my own consciousness. And so began my life as an uneducated man, ignorant to the ways of women, sex, politics, religion, and most importantly the meaning of life.


    As the years went by however, I found myself unable to ignore the fact that despite living among educated men such as doctors, lawyers, professors, politicians, and businessmen, none of these individuals seemed able to explain the reason we were alive, let alone provide any meaningful answers concerning our place within the universe. These so called intellectuals could talk your ear off about philosophy and science but couldn¡¯t tell you anything useful about yourself or society as a whole. They would spout nonsense about human nature and the origin of humanity, but never give concrete evidence backing their claims. Instead they relied upon vague metaphors and abstract language to try to convince us of something that wasn¡¯t really tangible or real. No matter how much they tried to convince me otherwise, I knew deep down inside that the answer to life''s greatest mystery lay somewhere outside of my own conscious awareness.


    So eventually I decided to stop listening and started thinking for myself, forcing myself to look inwardly at the world around me. Over time I realized that my life had been shaped by a series of beliefs, values, rules, morals, laws, religions, ideologies, etc., that were forced upon me since birth, and that all of those things combined together to create the person I believed I was today. By examining my own life I discovered that I was simply a product of my environment, created by others in order to serve some purpose for them. As I continued to reflect on the origins of my existence I also began to question the validity of my current worldview. After all, I reasoned, if the world as I understood it to be true was merely a figment of my imagination, then how do I know that what I''m currently perceiving as reality actually exists? How does my perception of the world allow me to differentiate between what is real and what is imaginary? Is there any proof that there is indeed a physical world beyond my senses, or is it possible that everything I perceive is nothing more than a hallucination brought forth by my brain, one that allows me to make sense of the chaos surrounding me? What makes me so special that I can distinguish between what is real and what is false, especially when everyone else seems perfectly content believing exactly what they want to believe regardless of whether or not it is objectively correct?


    It took many long nights spent pondering these questions before I finally reached the conclusion that I needed to reevaluate everything I had ever learned about myself and the world around me, starting from the beginning and questioning each and every belief until I arrived at the root of it all. Only then would I be able to determine for sure whether or not there truly existed a rational explanation for the events taking place around me, or if everything I perceived was just a meaningless illusion.


    And thus began the journey towards enlightenment known as "the search for truth."


    The problem is that people are too busy being born, raising children, earning money, paying bills, and dying to spend time contemplating the meaning of life; instead, they live like animals trapped in a cycle of self-destructive behavior while constantly searching for happiness in materialistic pursuits. If we''re going to change ourselves and our culture for the better, then perhaps it will take a revolution¡ªone that starts with us. We need to wake up and realize that the only thing standing between us and utopia is our own ignorance and apathy. It won''t happen overnight, but it has already begun...and I am proud to say that I am part of its legacy. The future belongs to those who dare to dream. Our generation may seem insignificant compared to previous generations, but I promise you, we are the ones responsible for the next great leap forward into the unknown. Together we will shape history, and we will write the story of our lives.


    I''ve always wondered why most humans tend to focus their attention outward rather than inward. Why don''t more people ask themselves deeper existential questions such as: Who am I? Where did I come from? What is my purpose here? What happens after death? Or maybe even, what is the point of life itself? Most people choose to accept whatever answer they get without giving it a second thought, but this lack of introspection often leads to a life filled with confusion and frustration. There is no greater feeling of helplessness than waking up in the morning knowing full well that you have absolutely no idea what''s going on, or where you''re supposed to go. You feel lost because you didn''t bother to figure out who you are or what you should be doing, which leaves you wandering through life aimlessly, unsure of what you stand for. In other words, you''re stuck in an endless state of limbo, floating along without direction, wondering if anyone else shares your perspective.


    This type of mental stagnation is dangerous to both mind and spirit. It breeds complacency and prevents us from growing intellectually, spiritually, or emotionally. People become bored and uninspired when they fail to explore their inner worlds, and consequently, society suffers as a result. When people lose sight of the bigger picture and forget that they are a part of something much larger than themselves, they begin to think less of humanity as a whole. This attitude of indifference is extremely detrimental to our species'' ability to progress as individuals and collectively. Instead of looking outward toward a brighter future, we start to look inward, becoming obsessed with trivial matters such as wealth, sex, drugs, fame, violence, etc.¡ªthings that ultimately offer little value to the human condition.


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    But let me tell you something: this way of living doesn''t work. And it never really has worked, except for the few privileged souls who happened to find success early on in life (or perhaps inherited it). For most, though, the pursuit of happiness comes with a price tag attached, one that usually involves some sort of compromise. Even when we achieve financial stability, we still end up empty inside. Money can buy you nice things and keep you comfortable for a short period of time, but eventually it loses its appeal. Once the novelty wears off, you''ll inevitably discover yourself back in the same situation as before, struggling to maintain your lifestyle. At least that''s what I''ve experienced firsthand throughout my lifetime.


    The fact remains, however, that true fulfillment does not exist in materialism alone. While money and possessions certainly provide comfort and security, they cannot fulfill a person''s soul. That is reserved for spiritual experiences that occur within the confines of the human psyche, and only by exploring our deepest desires and emotions can we hope to uncover them.


    So how do we go about achieving this goal? How exactly can we make sense of our existence so that we might understand our place in the universe, and therefore know where we fit in all of this? To put it simply, it requires a shift in perception¡ªa new outlook on reality based upon a fundamental understanding of the nature of consciousness itself.


    To illustrate just how far removed we are from reaching these lofty goals, consider the following quote from Albert Einstein:


    "It would appear that we shall never solve the mystery of the beginning of everything. But at any rate we must go on trying, and believing that we can succeed, until we die."


    If we truly want to learn the secrets behind the origins of the universe, then we had best prepare ourselves to face the harsh realities of the scientific method. After all, science isn¡¯t concerned with discovering the truth; it is merely a tool used to explain and predict phenomena. Science is not interested in answering the big questions, nor does it seek to reveal hidden truths about life. Scientists aren''t seeking enlightenment either; they''re just looking for answers to problems. As a result, many scientists will deny anything that seems too mystical or metaphysical, while others dismiss spirituality altogether as being outside of the realm of possibility. The problem lies in the very foundation of modern science, which assumes that the physical world operates according to a set of rules that apply equally across all times and places. If the laws governing matter were different during prehistoric eras, say, then the theory of evolution would have been impossible to prove, since there was no fossil record to show for it. However, if the laws of physics change over time, then it becomes possible to demonstrate evidence of past events that could not have taken place otherwise. So long as we remain consistent in our application of the scientific method, then we can use the data collected by previous generations to extrapolate into the future.


    In order for us to see clearly, though, we need to strip away the layers of preconceived notions and cultural biases that cloud the issue. We also have to recognize that science is limited in scope, and that it can''t account for every single aspect of reality. There may be other forces out there beyond the reach of current knowledge, ones that science hasn''t even begun to study yet.


    That said, I''m going to give you an overview of some of the most important discoveries made thus far regarding the nature of the cosmos. These are concepts that can help you better understand the nature of your own existence, and thereby improve the quality of your daily experience. Let''s take a closer look...


    ***


    As I mentioned earlier, the scientific community has come to accept the Big Bang Theory as the prevailing explanation for the origin of the universe. According to the theory, the universe began expanding rapidly after a singularity¡ªan infinitely dense point¡ªexpanded exponentially until it reached infinite size. From here, space expanded quickly due to gravity and radiation pressure. In turn, this created the first galaxies, stars, planets and more. Over billions of years, the expansion continued, causing the formation of black holes, quasars and other exotic objects. Eventually, the universe cooled enough for light to become stable, and photons became abundant. This allowed the creation of atoms, molecules and ultimately complex organic compounds like water, carbon and oxygen. Finally, life emerged from this primordial soup, and humans evolved to occupy planet Earth.


    While the Big Bang Theory explains much, it fails to address several key points. Namely, why did the initial singularity expand so fast? Why didn''t the explosion destroy itself? What caused such rapid expansion in the early days of the universe? And what happened before the birth of the universe?


    Fortunately, another idea exists that attempts to answer these questions, one that doesn''t rely solely on the Big Bang. It''s called inflationary cosmology, and it suggests that the universe underwent a period of exponential growth right after its inception. Instead of expanding slowly, it expanded incredibly rapidly, forming a bubble-like structure known as inflating space. When the bubble finally collapsed, it left behind a thin shell of inflaterd space around it, which later developed into the visible universe we inhabit today.


    This hypothesis offers a number of benefits over the standard Big Bang model. For starters, it makes less assumptions than the conventional version. It also avoids the paradoxes associated with the original theory, particularly the problem of entropy. The Big Bang Theory relies on the conservation of energy, but the laws of thermodynamics suggest that energy cannot spontaneously emerge from nothingness. Therefore, something must have started the whole process rolling. However, the Big Bang Theory states that the entire universe came into existence simultaneously, without any forerunners or precursors. Thus, the only way to resolve the apparent contradiction is to assume that the universe experienced an infinite amount of time between its conception and final collapse. This means that the universe should be perfectly smooth and homogeneous, lacking in any kind of irregularities whatsoever. Yet, we know that the universe contains both matter and anti-matter particles, which are completely incompatible with each other. Moreover, the universe is riddled with mysterious dark matter, which appears to exert gravitational effects despite having zero mass. Furthermore, the cosmic background radiation detected by NASA''s WMAP satellite indicates that the universe possesses a high degree of disorder. None of these facts bode well for the uniformitarian interpretation of the Big Bang Theory, suggesting that everything always existed at exactly the same moment.


    Another advantage of inflationary cosmology is its ability to explain the origin of time itself. After all, if the universe had once expanded infinitely rapidly, then it stands to reason that time must have passed faster in those early days. That being said, scientists still don¡¯t fully comprehend how the fabric of spacetime works, let alone what causes it to move forward through time. As far as they''re aware, the flow of time seems to exist independently from the underlying mechanics that govern the universe. Nevertheless, it remains an accepted fact among physicists that there must be a fundamental cause of motion and time.


    The inflationary model does just that: it proposes that time was born along with the universe. Inflation occurs when the inflaterd space becomes unstable and undergoes a sudden burst of expansion. Time passes quickly during this phase because the rate of expansion increases exponentially. Once the bubble collapses, however, it takes a long time for time to catch up again. During this period, the universe continues to expand at a constant rate, but no new matter is added to the mix.


    These theories do not provide conclusive answers, though. They merely offer plausible explanations for certain aspects of our current understanding of the universe. Still, their relative simplicity and lack of contradictions make them preferable to the Big Bang Theory. If anything, the inflationary model may prove even more accurate than the original. We simply won''t know until we get a chance to test it out.


    One thing''s for sure, though; the Big Bang Theory isn''t going anywhere anytime soon. Most people tend to prefer simple explanations, especially ones that seem logical. While some might find it hard to accept that the universe could have been born in an instant, most will likely stick with the traditional view rather than take the risk of rejecting it entirely. Indeed, the scientific community has invested too many resources into supporting the theory to abandon it now.

 Chapter 2

    The infinite game of pong: an exercise in the logic of game-theoretic thinking about strategy, ethics and morality.


    I am an old man now, and this old man has no time for anything but pong. I''ve been playing it all my life. The ball is in play and the table is full of holes; the ball bounces off the backboard a dozen times until the point where it will finally go "in" when it lands. But not right away: there are many possible paths to follow between here and there, and only one of them leads to victory or defeat, and there''s no point in thinking ahead about where you''re going; the moment is the essence. There are no rules but those of the game, nothing but your own mind. This old man has lost his sight long ago, and can''t even see what the ball looks like as it rolls along the table. All he has left is hearing. When I hear the sound of the ball hitting something else, then I know that my goal has changed slightly (or sometimes quite radically). Sometimes the ball bounces on top of the backboard and comes to rest right in front of me, so close that it takes a second to register that it could be a good shot, if I were able to move my hand quickly enough from here to there. Then the sound is different, and I know that I have to take a different path to get to where I want to go. Other times the ball rolls out from under the board, which changes the entire situation again, sometimes dramatically. The other players at the table (who have no eyes either) keep their mouths shut and wait for my signal to start the next round. They may be saying things behind my back. If they do, they don''t say it to my face. My opponent never says anything to me; he doesn''t need to. He always knows exactly what I''ll do, and he makes sure that the ball follows the best trajectory available to him: a simple, clean game that never gets complicated. It''s only after the fact, long after we have beaten all the other teams (which can be very frustrating), that my opponent comes up to me and tells me that I had played well, that he thought I was playing well from the first frame onward, that it''s the first time he ever felt like his balls weren''t getting in his way.


    There aren''t any rules. There is no point to winning or losing. You don''t play to beat anybody else. You play to play. The ball is coming toward me, faster and faster, until at last I can hear it no longer.


    The game of pong is forever.


    A young man is standing before me with a big, heavy book open in front of him. It is a large black leather bound volume, which has been carefully opened by someone who didn''t want any pages to fly away. Now the young man is flipping through the pages and making notes with a marker; he writes his name at the top of each page and puts a star beside his name.


    At first glance it seems as if the young man is writing down the names of the other people he meets during the course of his lifetime. But after a few minutes I realize that it isn''t that: this is something else altogether: the name written in the top right-hand corner of every page is mine, and not a single one is the same. Some of them are written in large letters, others in small. They don''t all look the same. Some of them seem to have been written in a hurry, while the others have had more time to think about their message to me. All in all there are thousands of the things, each bearing some sort of message directed at me.


    Here is one:


    The game of pong is forever.


    There are many more like these, which seem to mean something entirely different. I''m afraid to touch any of the pages that have fallen open on the ground. It would be too much for my weak heart. I just watch him work, and hope that I won''t be here when he''s done. I want to ask him what it all means, but I don''t dare. For years I wondered what it was that I should be doing with my life, and how I would know when I had found it. I never knew until I saw the young man in the library, sitting at a table looking through this giant book.


    Now there are only three people left alive who have ever seen the world in its entirety, and I am one of them.


    I went back to our old neighborhood in Brooklyn after I got out of prison for a visit. I hadn''t been back since I was released, and the area had changed quite a bit. The old apartment building itself was still there though, and the view that I remember was exactly the same as it was when I went to live there in 1950. In fact everything seemed to be the same. And yet I know that this couldn''t possibly be true. Time has passed. It passes for everyone. For me in particular it has been the most intense and eventful period of my existence; I know that I am going to die soon, and there is nothing more urgent in my life than trying to make sense of all that I have experienced. So what does it mean? How can I possibly account for how things looked in 1950, when I can see the difference clearly here and now?


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    There are four of us in this room. The other three are dead already, and have left their bodies in the closet by the entrance: two women, and a man wearing a suit. When we walk past, they don''t pay any attention to us. Maybe it is the light that blinds them, maybe they are waiting for someone else. There are three chairs around the table. We all sit down in one of them, although it is impossible to tell who sits where: we each occupy a different chair. I sit at the far end, with the woman to my right.


    Our host turns the lights down low, and we begin.


    "It doesn''t matter what you call it, as long as it''s good."


    So said the old man¡ªwho, it transpired, was also our host¡ªin response to one of my questions. It seemed to me that, if nothing else, it was an excellent way to start a conversation.


    For a long time we sat in silence, staring into the fire. The old man''s eyes were bright red. Sometimes I felt that he was looking at me even when he wasn''t. He seemed to have the power to make the flames dance just by turning his head slightly. The man''s fingers twitched on the glass in front of him, and the flame licked up once more. The woman sat very close to the fire, and I could feel her warm breath on the back of my hand.


    There was a time when we were all friends, and we shared everything. I don''t know how long ago that was: it seems to have happened centuries ago, but I am not sure. It might have been the late 1800''s, or even earlier, but it feels like we have known each other much longer than that.


    We used to gather regularly, as friends do, to swap stories and make jokes. Sometimes there would be food. The old man could cook a mean roast. We used to drink wine, but not from bottles. We preferred bottles made of glass and kept in the closet at the end of the hall. Our conversations took place around a table that looked something like this one. This photograph is the only thing that survived in the old man''s apartment: it was part of the evidence against him. We had gathered together because we needed to talk. It had been a difficult few weeks, what with the war and all. Things seemed to be getting worse by the hour. People had begun to lose their tempers: they argued with each other about politics, and the war, and the government. It was hard to keep track of anything anymore, and we all needed to talk.


    One day the old man appeared unexpectedly at the door and invited himself inside. He wanted to tell us something, he said. A message from God, he called it. That was another thing that made him sound suspicious: calling God in as a character witness. "What are you talking about?" the old woman cried. "Do you mean to say that you think all this is happening because of some sort of divine intervention?"


    I was sitting next to her, and I could see the anger building up in her eyes. She had always been a temperate soul, but she didn''t seem to be able to control herself these days. The old man, for his part, simply laughed. "Look at us!" he said. "You and I are the living proof of how mistaken we have all been! You''re right to question me."


    She started shouting and waving her arms about as if she were trying to scare off crows. The old man looked at me, but made no move to leave. He didn''t seem concerned in the least; and then he began to speak, and it was impossible to stop listening. His voice was low, but filled with authority: a quiet assurance that made me want to believe in what he was telling us. I thought the others might have noticed this, too. They listened quietly, almost politely. But the old woman was still angry. "I never believed in this nonsense," she shouted. "I''ve seen my share of wars, thank you very much! If I ever hear the name God again, I shall throw up all over your precious rug! Get out of here!"


    The old man did just that. He went out through the door and closed it firmly behind him, and that was the last time we saw him. He had come to tell us that he was going to start writing a novel, he said, and he wanted our help. That was how we became four people, in one room, with three chairs.


    We haven''t talked to each other since that night; we have simply waited for the police to get here. I don''t even know their names.