And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

    -- Omar Khayyam, Rubaiyat

A CONSEQUENTIALIST VIEW OF IDENTITY

The typical argument for cryonics says that if we can preserve brain data, one day we may be able to recreate a functioning brain and bring the dead back to life.

The typical argument against cryonics says that even if we could do that, the recreation wouldn't be "you". It would be someone who thinks and acts exactly like you.

The typical response to the typical argument against cryonics says that identity isn't in specific atoms, so it's probably in algorithms, and the recreation would have the same mental algorithms as you and so be you. The gap in consciousness of however many centuries is no more significant than the gap in consciousness between going to bed at night and waking up in the morning, or the gap between going into a coma and coming out of one.

We can call this a "consequentialist" view of identity, because it's a lot like the consequentialist views of morality. Whether a person is "me" isn't a function of how we got to that person, but only of where that person is right now: that is, how similar that person's thoughts and actions are to my own. It doesn't matter if we got to him by having me go to sleep and wake up as him, or got to him by having aliens disassemble my brain and then simulate it on a cellular automaton. If he thinks like me, he's me.

A corollary of the consequentialist view of identity says that if someone wants to create fifty perfect copies of me, all fifty will "be me" in whatever sense that means something.

GRADATIONS OF IDENTITY

An argument against cryonics I have never heard, but which must exist somewhere, says that even the best human technology is imperfect, and likely a few atoms here and there - or even a few entire neurons - will end up out of place. Therefore, the recreation will not be you, but someone very very similar to you.

And the response to this argument is "Who cares?" If by "me" you mean Yvain as of 10:20 PM 4th April 2012, then even Yvain as of 10:30 is going to have some serious differences at the atomic scale. Since I don't consider myself a different person every ten minutes, I shouldn't consider myself a different person if the resurrection-machine misplaces a few cells here or there.

But this is a slippery slope. If my recreation is exactly like me except for one neuron, is he the same person? Signs point to yes. What about five neurons? Five million? Or on a functional level, what if he blinked at exactly one point where I would not have done so? What if he prefers a different flavor of ice cream? What if he has exactly the same memories as I do, except for the outcome of one first-grade spelling bee I haven't thought about in years anyway? What if he is a Hindu fundamentalist?

If we're going to take a consequentialist view of identity, then my continued ability to identify with myself even if I naturally switch ice cream preferences suggests I should identify with a botched resurrection who also switches ice cream preferences. The only solution here that really makes sense is to view identity in shades of gray instead of black-and-white. An exact clone is more me than a clone with different ice cream preferences, who is more me than a clone who is a Hindu fundamentalist, who is more me than LeBron James is.

BIG WORLDS

There are various theories lumped together under the title "big world".

The simplest is the theory that the universe (or multiverse) is Very Very Big. Although the universe is probably only 15 billion years old, which means the visible universe is only 30 billion light years in size, inflation allows the entire universe to get around the speed of light restriction; it could be very large or possibly infinite. I don't have the numbers available, but I remember a back of the envelope calculation being posted on Less Wrong once about exactly how big the universe would have to be to contain repeating patches of about the size of the Earth. That is, just as the first ten digits of pi, 3141592653, must repeat somewhere else in pi because pi is infinite and patternless, and just as I would believe this with high probability even if pi were not infinite but just very very large, so the arrangement of atoms that make up Earth would recur in an infinite or very very large universe. This arrangement would obviously include you, exactly as you are now. A much larger class of Earth-sized patches would include slightly different versions of you like the one with different ice cream preferences. This would also work, as Omar Khayyam mentioned in the quote at the top, if the universe were to last forever or a very very long time.

The second type of "big world" is the one posited by the Many Worlds theory of quantum mechanics, in which each quantum event causes the Universe to split into several branches. Because quantum events determine larger-level events, and because each branch continues branching, some these branches could be similar to our universe but with observable macro-scale differences. For example, there might be a branch in which you are the President of the United States, or the Pope, or died as an infant. Although this sounds like a silly popular science version of the principle, I don't think it's unfair or incorrect.

The third type of "big world" is modal realism: the belief that all possible worlds exist, maybe in proportion to their simplicity (whatever that means). We notice the existence of our own world only for indexical reasons: that is, just as there are many countries, but when I look around me I only see my own; so there are many possibilities, but when I look around me I only see my own. If this is true, it is not only possible but certain that there is a world where I am Pope and so on.

There are other types of "big worlds" that I won't get into here, but if any type at all is correct, then there should be very many copies of me or people very much like me running around.

CRYONICS WITHOUT FREEZERS

Cryonicists say that if you freeze your brain, you may experience "waking up" a few centuries later when someone uses the brain to create a perfect copy of you.

But whether or not you freeze your brain, a Big World is creating perfect copies of you all the time. The consequentialist view of identity says that your causal connection with these copies is unnecessary for them to be you. So why should a copy of you created by a far-future cryonicist with access to your brain be better able to "resurrect" you than a copy of you that comes to exist for some other reason?

For example, suppose I choose not to sign up for cryonics, have a sudden heart attack, and die in my sleep. Somewhere in a Big World, there is someone exactly like me except that they didn't have the heart attack and they wake up healthy the next morning.

The cryonicists believe that having a healthy copy of you come into existence after you die is sufficient for you to "wake up" as that copy. So why wouldn't I "wake up" as the healthy, heart-attack-free version of me in the universe next door?

Or: suppose that a Friendly AI fills a human-sized three-dimensional grid with atoms, using a quantum dice to determine which atom occupies each "pixel" in the grid. This splits the universe into as many branches as there are possible permutations of the grid (presumably a lot) and in one of those branches, the AI's experiment creates a perfect copy of me at the moment of my death, except healthy. If creating a perfect copy of me causes my "resurrection", then that AI has just resurrected me as surely as cryonics would have.

The only downside I can see here is that I have less measure (meaning I exist in a lower proportion of worlds) than if I had signed up for cryonics directly. This might be a problem if I think that my existence benefits others - but I don't think I should be concerned for my own sake. Right now I don't go to bed at night weeping that my father only met my mother through a series of unlikely events and so most universes probably don't contain me; I'm not sure why I should do so after having been resurrected in the far future.

RESURRECTION AS SOMEONE ELSE

What if the speculative theories involved in Big Worlds all turn out to be false? All hope is still not lost.

Above I wrote:

An exact clone is more me than a clone with different ice cream preferences, who is more me than a clone who is a Hindu fundamentalist, who is more me than LeBron James is.

I used LeBron James because from what I know about him, he's quite different from me. But what if I had used someone else? One thing I learned upon discovering Less Wrong is that I had previously underestimated just how many people out there are *really similar to me*, even down to weird interests, personality quirks, and sense of humor. So let's take the person living in 2050 who is most similar to me now. I can think of several people on this site alone who would make a pretty impressive lower bound on how similar the most similar person to me would have to be.

In what way is this person waking up on the morning of January 1 2050 equivalent to me being sort of resurrected? What if this person is more similar to Yvain(2012) than Yvain(1995) is? What if I signed up for cryonics, died tomorrow, and was resurrected in 2050 by a process about as lossy as the difference between me and this person?

SUMMARY

Personal identity remains confusing. But some of the assumptions cryonicists make are, in certain situations, sufficient to guarantee personal survival after death without cryonics.

When I explain to people how beliefs should be expressed in probabilities, I would like to use an example like "Consider X. Lots of intelligent people believe X, but lots of equally intelligent people believe not-X. It would be ridiculous to say you are 100% sure either way, so even if you have a strong opinion about X, you should express your belief as a probability."

Trouble is, I'm having a hard time thinking of an example to plug into X. For an example to work, it would need the following properties:

Factual question. So no value-laden questions like "Is abortion morally acceptable?" or counterfactual questions like "Would the US have won a war with the Soviet Union in 1960?"

Popular and important question. The average person should be aware it's an issue and care about the answer. So no "My aunt's middle name is Gladys" or "P = NP."

High uncertainty. Reasonable people should be reluctant to give a probability >90% or <10%

No opportunity to gain status by signaling overwhelming support for one side. So cryonics is out, because it's too easy to say "That's stupid, I'm 100% sure cryonics won't work and no intelligent person could believe it." I'm assuming in any debate where you can gain free status by assigning crazy high probabilities to the "responsible" position, people will do just that - so no psi effects, Kennedy assassination, or anything in that cluster. I need a question with no well-accepted "responsible" position.

Minimal mindkilling effect. My previous go-to example has been global warming, but I keep encountering people who say that global warming 100% for sure exists and the only people who could possibly doubt it are oil company shills. Or if I were to try the existence of God, I predict half the population would say it's 100% certain God exists, and the other half would say the opposite.

So what are the important questions that average (or somewhat-above-average) people will likely agree are complicated open questions where both sides have good points? And if there aren't many such questions, what does that say about us?

A recent discussion post has compared the difficulty of an AI destroying modern human civilization to that of a modern human taking over the Roman Empire, with the implication that it is impossible.

The analogy has a few problems: first, modern humans don't have much greater raw intelligence than the Romans, only a bit more knowledge and tools; an AI would have a genuine intelligence advantage. Second, a high-tech civilization like ours offers many more ways for a genius to cause chaos than existed in classical Rome: it's more plausible that you can throw a few existing technologies together to create a superweapon than that Ptolemy could have done likewise, and there's no ancient Roman equivalent to hacking a nuclear launch system.

But taking over ancient Rome might serve as an interesting upper bound on the difficulty of an AI taking over modern civilization. And it's a theme of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality that rationalists should be able to come up with creative solutions to seemingly hard problems. So if Professor Quirrell offered it as an extra credit assignment, how would you take over Rome?

Here are the rules:

- You are thrown back in time to the year 1 AD. You can choose to arrive anywhere in the world, but your method of arrival cannot itself give an advantage (you can't appear in a flash of light in the middle of a religious ritual or anything).

- You do not start with Roman citizenship or any other legal record of your existence.

- You keep your original physical characteristics, including sex, height, and fitness. You will appear in period-appropriate dress of your choosing, and can't carry any artifacts with you. You may start with enough money to live a patrician lifestyle for a year.

- You are intellectually near-perfect. You know all human knowledge as of 2012. You speak fluent Latin (and all other languages of the day) and can orate as eloquently as Cicero or Demosthenes. You are a tactical genius of the order of Caesar and Napoleon. And you have infinite willpower and goal-directedness: aside from human necessities like sleep or food, you need never rest.

- You win if you either become Roman Emperor (and are acknowledged as such by most Romans), or if a state you control conquers the city of Rome. You lose if you die, of old age or otherwise, before completing either goal.

With the help of many dedicated Less Wrongers (players muflax, Karl, Charlie, and Emile; musicians Mike Blume and Alicorn, technical support Ari Rahikkala) we have successfully completed what is, as far as I know, the first actual Dungeons and Discourse adventure anywhere. Except we're not calling it that, because I don't have the rights to use that name. Though it's not precisely rationality related, I hope it is all right if I post a summary of the adventure by popular demand.

Also, at some point it turned into a musical. The first half of the songs are only available as lyrics at the moment, but Alicorn and MBlume very kindly produced the second half as real music, which I've uploaded to YouTube and linked at the bottom of this post (skip to it now).

THE ADVENTURE

BACKGROUND

The known world has many sects and religions, but all contain shadowy legends of two primeval deities: Sophia, Goddess of Wisdom; and Aleithos, God of Truth. When Sophia announced her plan to create thinking, rational beings, Aleithos objected, declaring that they would fall into error and produce endless falsehoods. Sophia ignored her brother's objections and created humankind, who named the world after their goddess-mother. But Aleithos' fears proved well-founded: humankind fell into error and produced endless falsehoods, and their clamor drove the God of Truth insane.

The once mighty Aleithos fell from heaven, and all of his angelic servants turned into Paradox Beasts, arachnoid monstrosities that sought and devoured those who challenged the laws of logic. Over centuries, most of the Paradox Beasts were banished, but Aleithos himself remained missing. And though thousands of seekers set off to all the corners of the world in search of Truth, the Mad God keeps his own counsel, if He still even exists at all.

The Truth God's madness had one other effect; the laws of physics, once inviolable, turned fluid, and those sufficiently advanced in the study of Truth gained apparently magical abilities. With knowledge literally being power, great philosophers and scientists built mighty cities and empires.

In the middle of the Cartesian Plain at the confluence of the rivers Ordinate and Abcissa stands the mightiest of all, the imperial city of Origin. At the very center of the city stands the infinitely tall Z-Axis Tower, on whose bottom floor lives the all-seeing Wizard of 0=Z. Surrounding the Tower are a host of colleges and universities that attract the greatest scholars from all over Origin, all gathered in service to the great project to find Truth.

Into the city comes Lady Cerune Russell, an exotic noblewoman from far-off parts seeking great thinkers to join her on a dangerous adventure. Four scholars flock to her banner. Nomophilos the Elder the Younger (Emile) is a political scientist studying the central role of laws in creating a just society. Phaidros (muflax) is a zealous Protestant theologian trying to meld strains of thought as disparate as Calvinism, Gnosticism, and W.L. Craig's apologetics. Ephraim (Charlie) is a Darwinian biologist with strong leftist sympathies and an experimental streak that sometimes gets him in trouble. And Macx (Karl) is a quiet but very precise logician with a talent for puzzles.

Cerune explains to the Original scholars that she is the last living descendant of Good King Bertrand, historic ruler of the land of Russellia far to the west. Russellia was the greatest nation in the world until two hundred years ago, when a cataclysm destroyed the entire kingdom in a single day and night. Now the skies above Russellia are dark and filled with choking ash, monsters roam its plains, and the Good King is said to be locked in a magical undying sleep deep beneath the Golden Mountain in the kingdom's center. Though many have traveled to Russellia in search of answers, none have returned alive; Cerune, armed with secret information from the Turing Oracle which she refuses to share, thinks she can do better. The four Originals agree to protect her as she makes the dangerous journey to the Golden Mountain to investigate the mysterious disaster and perhaps lift the curse. Cerune gives them a day in Origin to prepare for the journey.

CHAPTER ONE: ORIGIN

The party skip the city's major attractions, including the Z-Axis Tower and the Hagia Sophia, in favor of more academic preparations: a visit to the library to conduct research, and a shopping trip to Barnes & Aristoi Booksellers, where they purchase reading material for the journey ahead. Here, they find a map of the lands on the road to Russellia, including the unpleasant-sounding Slough of Despotism and the Shadow City of Xar-Morgoloth, whose very name inexplicably chills the air when spoken aloud. After a long discussion on how this thermodynamic-defying effect could probably be used to produce unlimited free energy, they return to more immediate matters and head to the armory to pick up some weapons - a trusty isoceles triangle for Nomophilos, a bow for Macx - before the stores close for the evening. After a final night in Origin, they meet Cerune at the city gates and set off.

They originally intend to stick to the course of the Abcissa, but it is flooding its banks and Cerune recommends crossing the river into Platonia at the Pons Asinorum. After being attacked by a Euclidean Elemental charged with letting no one enter who does not know geometry, they reach the other bank and find a strange old man, raving incomprehensibly. His turns of phrase start to make sense only after the party realizes that he is speaking as if he - and all objects - have no consistent identity.

In his roundabout way, he identifies himself as Heraclitus, the Fire Mage, one of the four great Elemental Mages of Platonia. Many years ago, he crossed into Origin on some errand, only to be ambushed by his arch-enemy, the Water Mage Thales. Thales placed a curse on Heraclitus that he could never cross the same river twice, trapping him on the wrong side of the Abcissa and preventing his return to Platonia. In order to dispel the curse, Heraclitus finds a loophole in the curse: he convinces himself that objects have no permanent identity, and so he can never cross the same river twice since it is not the same river and he is not the same man. Accepting this thesis, he crosses the Abcissa without incident - only to find that his new metaphysics of identity prevents him from forming goals, executing long-term plans, or doing anything more complicated than sitting by the riverbank and eating the fish that swim by.

This sets off a storm of conversation, as each member of the party tries to set Heraclitus right in their own way; Phaidros by appealing to God as a final arbiter of identity, Macx and Nomophilos by arguing that duty is independent of identity and that Heraclitus has a duty to his family and followers. Unfortunately, they make a logical misstep and end out convincing Heraclitus that it is illogical from his perspective to hold conversation; this ends the debate. And as the five philosophers stand around discussing what to do, they are ambushed by a party of assassins, who shoot poisoned arrows at them from a nearby knoll.

Outnumbered and outflanked, the situation seems hopeless, until Macx notices several of the attackers confused and unwilling to attack. With this clue, he identifies them as Buridan's Assassins, who in the presence of two equally good targets will hesitate forever, unable to choose: he yells to his friends to stand with two or more adventurers equidistant from each assassin, and sure enough, this paralyzes the archers and allows the party some breathing space.

But when a second group of assassins arrives to join the first, the end seems near - until Heraclitus, after much pondering, decides to accept his interlocutors' arguments for object permanence and joins in the battle. His fire magic makes short work of the remaining assassins, and when the battle is over, he thanks them and gives a powerful magic item as a gift to each. Then he disappears in a burst of flame after warning his new friends to beware the dangers ahead.

The party searches the corpses of the assassins - who all carry obsidian coins marked PLXM - and then camp for the night on the fringe of the Slough of Despotism.

CHAPTER TWO: THE SLOUGH OF DESPOTISM

The Slough of Despotism is a swamp unfortunately filled with allegators, giant reptiles who thrive on moral superiority and on casting blame. They accuse our heroes of trespassing on their property; our heroes counter that the allegators, who do not have a state to enforce property rights, cannot have a meaningful concept of property. The allegators threaten to form a state, but before they can do so the party manages to turn them against each other by pointing out where their property rights conflict; while the allegators argue, the adventurers sneak off.

They continue through the swamp, braving dense vegetation, giant snakes, and more allegators (who are working on the whole state thing; the party tells them that they're too small and disorganized to be a real state, and that they would have to unite the entire allegator nation under a mutually agreed system of laws) before arriving at an old barrow tomb. Though four of the five adventurers want to leave well enough alone, Ephraim's experimental spirits gets the better of him, and he enters the mound. Its local Barrow Wight has long since departed, but he has left behind a suit of Dead Wight Mail, which confers powerful bonuses on Conservatives and followers of the Right-Hand Path. Nomophilos, the party's Conservative, is all set to take the Mail when Phaidros objects that it is morally wrong to steal from the dead; this sparks a fight that almost becomes violent before Nomo finally backs down; with a sigh of remorse, he leaves the magic item where he found it.

Beyond the barrow tomb lies the domain of the Hobbesgoblins, the mirror image of the Allegators in that they have a strong - some might say dictatorial - state under the rule of their unseen god-king, Lord-Over-All. They are hostile to any foreigners who refuse to swear allegiance to their ruler, but after seeing an idol of the god-king - a tentacled monstrosity bearing more than a passing resemblance to Cthulhu - our heroes are understandably reluctant to do so. As a result, the Hobbesgoblins try to refuse them passage through their capital city of Malmesbury on the grounds that, without being subordinated to Lord-Over-All or any other common ruler, the adventurers are in a state of nature relative to the Hobbesgoblins and may rob, murder, or otherwise exploit them. The Hobbesgoblins don't trust mere oaths or protestations of morality - but Nomophilos finally comes up with a compromise that satisfies them. He offers them a hostage in return for their good behavior, handing them his pet tortoise Xeno. This satisfies the Hobbesgoblins as assurance of their good behavior, and the party passes through Malmesbury without incident.

On the far side of Malmesbury they come to a great lake, around which the miasmas of the swamp seem to swirl expectantly. On the shore of the lake lives Theseus with his two ships. Theseus tells his story: when he came of age, he set off on a trading expedition upon his father's favorite ship. His father made him swear to return the ship intact, but after many years of travel, Theseus realized that every part of the ship had been replaced and repaired, so that there was not a single piece of the ship that was the same as when it had left port. Mindful of his oath, he hunted down the old pieces he had replaced, and joined them together into a second ship. But now he is confused: is it the first or the second ship which he must return to his father?

The five philosophers tell Theseus that it is the first ship: the ship's identity is linked to its causal history, not to the matter that composes it. Delighted with this answer, he offers the second ship to the adventurers, who sail toward the far shore.

Halfway across the lake, they meet an old man sitting upon a small island. He introduces himself as Thomas Hobbes, and says that his spies and secret police have told him everything about the adventurers since they entered the Slough. Their plan to save Russellia is a direct threat to his own scheme to subordinate the entire world under one ruler, and so he will destroy them. When the party expresses skepticism, his "island" rises out of the water and reveals itself to be the back of the monstrous sea creature, Leviathan, the true identity of the Hobbesgoblins' Lord-Over-All. After explaining his theory of government ("Let's Hear It For Leviathan", lyrics only) Hobbes and the monster attack for the game's first boss battle. The fight is immediately plagued by mishaps, including one incident where Phaidros's "Calvin's Predestined Hellfire" spell causes Hobbes to briefly turn into a Dire Tiger. When one of Leviathan's tentacles grab Cerune, she manifests a battle-axe of magic fire called the Axe of Separation and hacks the creature's arm off. She refuses to explain this power, but inspired by the small victory the party defeat Hobbes and reduce Leviathan into a state of Cartesian doubt; the confused monster vanishes into the depths, and the adventurers hurry to the other side and out of the Slough.

CHAPTER THREE: THE SHADOW CITY

Although our heroes make good time, they soon spot a detachment of Hobbesgoblins pursuing them. Afraid the goblins will be angry at the defeat of their god, the party hides; this turns out to be unnecessary, as the goblins only want Ephraim - the one who actually dealt the final blow against Leviathan - to be their new Lord-Over-All. Ephraim rejects the positions, and the party responds to the goblins' desperate pleading by suggesting a few pointers for creating a new society - punishing violence, promoting stability, reinforcing social behavior. The Hobbesgoblins grumble, but eventually depart - just in time for the party to be attacked by more of Buridan's Assassins. These killers' PLXM coins seem to suggest an origin in Xar-Morgoloth, the Shadow City, and indeed its jet-black walls now loom before them. But the city sits upon the only pass through the Central Mountains, so the party reluctantly enters.

Xar-Morgoloth turns out to be a pleasant town of white-washed fences and laughing children. In search of an explanation for the incongruity the five seek out the town's spiritual leader, the Priest of Lies. The Priest explains that although Xar-Morgoloth is superficially a nice place, the town is evil by definition. He argues that all moral explanations must be grounded in base moral facts that cannot be explained, whether these be respect for others, preference of pleasure over pain, or simple convictions that murder and theft are wrong. One of these base level moral facts, he says, is that Xar-Morgoloth is evil. It is so evil, in fact, that it is a moral imperative to keep people out of the city - which is why he sent assassins to scare them off.

Doubtful, the party seeks the mysterious visiting philosopher whom the Priest claimed originated these ideas: they find Immanuel Kant living alone on the outskirts of the city. Kant tells his story: he came from a parallel universe, but one day a glowing portal appeared in the sky, flinging him into the caves beyond Xar-Morgoloth. Wandering into Xar-Morgoloth, he tried to convince the citizens of his meta-ethical theories, but they insisted they could ground good and evil in basic moral intuitions instead. Kant proposed that Xar-Morgoloth was evil as a thought experiment to disprove them, but it got out of hand.

When our heroes challenge Kant's story and blame him for the current state of the city, Kant gets angry and casts Parmenides' Stasis Hex, freezing them in place. Then he announces his intention to torture and kill them all. For although in this world Immanuel Kant is a moral philosopher, in his own world (he explains) Immanuel Kant is a legendary villain and figure of depravity ("I'm Evil Immanuel Kant", lyrics only). Cerune manifests a second magic weapon, the Axe of Choice, to break the Stasis Hex, and the party have their second boss battle, which ends in defeat for Evil Kant. Searching his home, they find an enchanted Parchment of Natural Law that causes the chill in the air whenever the city's name is spoken.

Armed with this evidence, they return to the Priest of Lies and convince him that his moral theory is flawed. The Priest dispels the shadow over the city, recalls his assassins, and restores the town name to its previous non-evil transliteration of Summerglass. He then offers free passage through the caverns that form the only route through the Central Mountains.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE CAVERNS OF ABCISSA

Inside the caverns, which are nearly flooded by the overflowing Abcissa River, the party encounter an army of Water Elementals, leading them to suspect that they may be nearing the headquarters of Heraclitus' arch-enemy, Thales. The Water Elementals are mostly busy mining the rock for gems and magic artifacts, but one of them is sufficiently spooked by Phaidros to cast a spell on him, temporarily turning him to water. This is not immediately a disaster - Phaidros assumes a new form as a water elemental but keeps his essential personality - except that in an Ephraimesque display of overexperimention, Phaidros wonders what would happen if he temporarily relaxed the morphogenic field that holds him in place - as a result, he loses his left hand, a wound which stays in place when he reverts back to his normal form a few hours later. A resigned Phaidros only quotes the Bible: ("And if your hand offend you, cut it off: it is better for you to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell" - Mark 9:43) and trusts in the Divine plan.

The Caverns of Abcissa are labyrinthine and winding, but eventually the party encounters a trio who will reappear several times in their journey: Ruth (who tells the truth), Guy (who'll always lie) and Clancy (who acts on fancy). These three have a habit of hanging around branching caverns and forks in the road, and Ephraim solves their puzzle thoroughly enough to determine what route to take to the center of the cave system.

Here, in a great cavern, lives a civilization of cave-men whose story sounds a lot like Evil Kant's - from another world, minding their own business until a glowing portal appeared in the sky and sucked them into the caves. The cave-men are currently on the brink of civil war after one of their number, Thag, claims to have visited the mythical "outside" and discovered a world of magic and beauty far more real than the shadows dancing on the walls of their cavern. Most of the other cave-men, led by the very practical Vur, have rejected his tale, saying that the true magic and beauty lies in accepting the real, in-cave world rather than chasing after some outside paradise - but a few of the youth have flocked to Thag's banner, including Antil, a girl with mysterious magic powers.

Only the timely arrival of the adventurers averts a civil war; the party negotiates a truce and offers to solve the dispute empirically - they will escort Vur and Antil with them through the caverns so that representatives of both sides can see whether or not the "outside" really exists. This calms most of the cave-men down, and with Vur and Antil alongside, they head onward to the underground source of the Abcissa - which, according to their research, is the nerve center of Thales' watery empire.

On the way, they encounter several dangers. First, they awake a family of hibernating bears, who are quickly dispatched but who manage to maul the frail Vur so severely that only some divine intervention mediated by Phaidros saves his life. Second, they come across a series of dimensional portals clearly linked to the stories related by Evil Kant and the cave-men. Some link directly to otherworldly seas, pouring their water into the Abcissa and causing the recent floods. Others lead to otherworldly mines and quarries, and are being worked by gangs of Water Elementals. After some discussion of the ethics of stranding the Water Elementals, the five philosophers decide to shut down as many of the portals as possible.

They finally reach the source of the Abcissa, and expecting a battle, deck themselves out in magic armor that grants immunity to water magic. As expected, they encounter Thales, who reveals the full scale of his dastardly plot - to turn the entire world into water. But his exposition is marred by a series of incongruities, including his repeated mispronunciations of his own name ("All is Water", lyrics only). And when the battle finally begins, the party dispatches Thales with minimal difficulty, and the resulting corpse is not that of a Greek philosopher at all, but rather that of Davidson's Swampman, a Metaphysical summon that can take the form of any creature it encounters and imitate them perfectly.

Before anyone has time to consider the implications of their discovery, they are attacked by the real Water Mage, who bombards them with powerful water spells to which their magic armor mysteriously offers no protection. Worse, the Mage is able to create dimensional portals at will, escaping attacks effortlessly. After getting battered by a series of magic Tsunamis that nearly kill several of the weaker party members, the adventurers are in dire straits.

Then the tide begins to turn. Antil manifests the power to go invisible and attack the Water Mage from an unexpected vantage. Cerune manifests another magic weapon, the Axe of Extension, which gives her allies the same powers over space as the Water Mage seems to possess. And with a little prompting from Cerune, Phaidros and Nomophilos realize the Water Mage's true identity. Magic armor doesn't grant protection from his water spells because they are not water at all, but XYZ, a substance physically identical to but chemically different from H2O. And his mastery of dimensional portals arises from his own origin in a different dimension, Twin Earth. He is Hilary Putnam ("All is Water, Reprise", lyrics only) who has crossed dimensions, defeated Thales, and assumed his identity in order to take over his watery empire and complete his world domination plot. With a last push of magic, the party manage to defeat Putnam, who is knocked into the raging Abcissa and drowned in the very element he sought to control.

They tie up the loose ends of the chapter by evacuating the Water Elementals from Twin Earth, leading the cave-men to the promised land of the Outside, and confronting Antil about her mysterious magic. Antil gives them the source of her power to turn invisible: the Ring of Gyges, which she found on the cave floor after an earthquake. She warns them never to use it, as it presents a temptation which their ethics might be unable to overcome.

CHAPTER FIVE: CLIMBING MOUNT IMPROBABLE

Now back on the surface, the party finds their way blocked by the towering Mount Improbable, which at first seems too tall to ever climb. But after some exploration, they find there is a gradual path sloping upward, and begin their ascent. They are blocked, however, by a regiment of uniformed apes: cuteness turns to fear when they get closer and find the apes have machine guns. They decide to negotiate, and the apes prove willing to escort them to their fortress atop the peak if they can prove their worth by answering a few questions about their religious beliefs.

Satisfied, the ape army lead them to a great castle at the top of the mountain where Richard Dawkins ("Beware the Believers", credit Michael Edmondson) and his snow leopard daemon plot their war against the gods themselves. Dawkins believes the gods to be instantiated memes - creations of human belief that have taken on a life of their own due to Aleithos' madness - and accuses them of causing disasters, poverty, and ignorance in order to increase humanity's dependence upon them and keep the belief that sustains their existence intact. With the help of his genetically engineered apes and a fleet of flying battleships, he has been waging war against all the major pantheons of polytheism simultaneously. Dawkins is now gearing up to attack his most implacable foe, Jehovah Himself, although he admits He has so far managed to elude him.

Hoping the adventurers will join his forces, he takes them on a tour of the castle, showing them the towering battlements, the flotilla of flying battleships, and finally, the dungeons. In these last are imprisoned Fujin, Japanese god of storms; Meretseger, Egyptian goddess of the flood, and even Ares, the Greek god of war (whom Dawkins intends to try for war crimes: not any specific war crime, just war crimes in general). When the party reject Dawkins' offer to join his forces (most vocally Phaidros, most reluctantly Ephraim) Dawkins locks them in the dungeons themselves.

They are rescued late at night by their old friend Theseus. Theseus lost his ship in a storm (caused by the Japanese storm god, Fujin) and joined Dawkins' forces to get revenge; he is now captain of the aerial battleships. Theseus loads the adventurers onto a flying battleship and deposits them on the far side of the mountain, where Dawkins and his apes will be unlikely to find them.

Their troubles are not yet over, however, for they quickly encounter a three man crusade consisting of Blaise Pascal, Johann Tetzel, and St. Augustine of Hippo (mounted, cavalry-style, upon an actual hippopotamus). The three have come, led by a divine vision, to destroy Dawkins and his simian armies as an abomination unto the Lord, and upon hearing that the adventurers have themselves escaped Dawkins, invite them to come along. But the five, despite their appreciation for Pascal's expository fiddle music ("The Devil and Blaise Pascal") are turned off by Tetzel's repeated attempts to sell them indulgences, and Augustine's bombastic preaching. After Phaidros gets in a heated debate with Augustine over the role of pacifism in Christian thinking, the two parties decide to go their separate ways, despite Augustine's fiery condemnations and Pascal's warning that there is a non-zero chance the adventurers' choice will doom them to Hell.

After another encounter with Ruth, Guy, and Clancy, our heroes reach the base of Mount Improbable and at last find themselves in Russellia.

CHAPTER SIX: THE PALL OVER RUSSELLIA

Russellia is, as the legends say, shrouded in constant darkness. The gloom and the shock of being back in her ancestral homeland are too much for Cerune, who breaks down and reveals her last few secrets. Before beginning the quest, she consulted the Turing Oracle in Cyberia, who told her to seek the aid of a local wizard, Zermelo the Magnificent. Zermelo gave her nine magic axes of holy fire, which he said possessed the power to break the curse over Russellia. But in desperation, she has already used three of the magic axes, and with only six left she is uncertain whether she will have the magic needed.

At that moment, Heraclitus appears in a burst of flame, seeking a debriefing on the death of his old enemy Thales. After recounting the events of the past few weeks, our heroes ask Heraclitus whether, as a Fire Mage, he can reforge the axes of holy fire. Heraclitus admits the possibility, but says he would need to know more about the axes, their true purpose, and the enemy they were meant to fight. He gives the party an enchanted matchbook, telling them to summon him by striking a match when they gather the information he needs.

Things continue going wrong when, in the midst of a discussion about large numbers, Phaidros makes a self-contradictory statement that summons a Paradox Beast. Our heroes stand their ground and manage to destroy the abomination, despite its habit of summoning more Paradox Beasts to its aid through its Principle of Explosion spell. Bruised and battered, they limp into the nearest Russellian city on their map, the town of Ravenscroft.

The people of Ravenscroft tell their story: in addition to the eternal darkness, Russellia is plagued by vampire attacks and by a zombie apocalypse, which has turned the population of the entire country, save Ravenscroft, into ravenous brain-eating zombies. Despite the burghers claiming the zombie apocalypse had been confirmed by no less a figure than Thomas Nagel, who passed through the area a century ago, our heroes are unconvinced: for one thing, the Ravenscrofters are unable to present any evidence that the other Russellians are zombies except for their frequent attacks on Ravenscroft - and the Ravenscrofters themselves attack the other towns as a "pre-emptive measure". But the Ravenscrofters remain convinced, and even boast of their plan to launch a surprise attack on neighboring Brixton the next day.

Suspicious, our heroes head to the encampment of the Ravenscroft army, where they are just in time to see Commander David Chalmers give a rousing oration against the zombie menace ("Flee! A History of Zombieism In Western Thought", credit Emerald Rain). They decide to latch on to Chalmers' army, both because it is heading the same direction they are and because they hope they may be able to resolve the conflict between Ravenscroft and Brixton before it turns violent.

They camp with the army in some crumbling ruins from the golden age of the Russellian Empire. Entering a ruined temple, they disarm a series of traps to enter a vault containing a legendary artifact, the Morningstar of Frege. They also encounter a series of statues and bas-reliefs of the Good King, in which he demonstrates his chivalry by swearing an oath to Aleithos that he will defend all those who cannot defend themselves. Before they can puzzle out the meaning of all they have seen, they are attacked by vampires, confirming the Ravenscrofters' tales; they manage to chase them away with their magic and a hare-brained idea of Phaidros' to bless their body water, turning it into holy water and burning them up from the inside.

The next morning, they sneak into Brixton before the main army, and find their fears confirmed: the Brixtonites are normal people, no different from the Russellians, and they claim that Thomas Nagel told them that they were the only survivors of the zombie apocalypse. They manage to forge a truce between Ravenscroft and Brixton, but to their annoyance, the two towns make peace only to attack a third town, Mountainside, which they claim is definitely populated by zombies this time. In fact, they say, the people of Mountainside openly admit to being zombies and don't even claim to have souls.

Once again, our heroes rush to beat the main army to Mountainside. There they find the town's leader, Daniel Dennett, who explains the theory of eliminative materialism ("The Zombies' Secret"). The party tries to explain the subtleties of Dennett's position to a bloodthirsty Chalmers, and finally all sides agree to drop loaded terms like "human" and "zombie" and replace them with a common word that suggests a fundamental humanity but without an internal Cartesian theater (one of our heroes suggests "NPC", and it sticks). The armies of the three towns agree to ally against their true common enemy - the vampires who live upon the Golden Mountain and kidnap their friends and families in their nighttime raids.

Before the attack, Nomophilos and Ephraim announce their intention to build an anti-vampire death ray. The theory is that places on the fringe of Russellia receive some sunlight, while places in the center are shrouded in endless darkness. If the towns of Russellia can set up a system of mirrors from their highest towers, they can reflect the sunlight from the borderlands into a central collecting mirror in Mountainside, which can be aimed at the vampires' hideout to flood it with daylight, turning them to ashes. Ephraim, who invested most of his skill points into techne, comes up with schematics for the mirror, and after constructing a successful prototype, Chalmers and Dennett sound the attack order.

The death ray takes out many of the vampires standing guard, but within their castle they are protected from its light: our heroes volunteer to infiltrate the stronghold, but are almost immediately captured and imprisoned - the vampires intend to sacrifice Cerune in a ritual to use her royal blood to increase their power. But the adventurers make a daring escape: arch-conservative Nomophilos uses the invisible hand of the marketplace to steal the keys out of the jailer's pocket, and Phaidros summons a five hundred pound carnivorous Christ metaphor to maul the guards. Before the party can escape the castle, they are confronted by the vampire lord himself, who is revealed to be none other than Thomas Nagel ("What Is It Like To Be A Bat?"). In the resulting battle, Nagel is turned to ashes and the three allied cities make short work of the remaining vampires, capturing the castle.

The next morning finds our heroes poring over the vampire lord's library. Inside, they find an enchanted copy of Godel Escher Bach (with the power to summon an identical enchanted copy of Godel Escher Bach) and a slew of books on Russellian history. Over discussion of these latter, they finally work out what curse has fallen over the land, and what role the magic axes play in its removal.

[spoiler alert; stop here if you want to figure it out for yourself]

The Good King's oath to defend those who could not defend themselves was actually more complicated than that: he swore an oath to the god Aleithos to defend those and only those who could not defend themselves. His enemies, realizing the inherent contradiction, attacked him, trapping Russell in a contradiction - if he defended himself, he was prohibited from doing so; if he did not defend himself, he was obligated to do so. Trapped, he was forced to break his oath, and the Mad God punished him by casting his empire into eternal darkness and himself into an endless sleep.

The nine axes of Zermelo the Magnificent embody the nine axioms of ZFC. If applied to the problem, they will allow set theory to be reformulated in a way that makes the paradox impossible, lifting the curse and waking the Good King.

Upon figuring out the mystery, the party strike the enchanted match and summon Heraclitus, who uses fire magic to reforge the Axes of Choice, Separation, and Extension. Thus armed, the party leave the Vampire Lord's castle and enter the system of caverns leading into the Golden Mountain.

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN

The party's travels through the cavern are quickly blocked by a chasm too deep to cross. Nomophilos saves the day by realizing that the enchanted copy of Godel Escher Bach creates the possibility of infinite recursion; he uses each copy of GEB to create another copy, and eventually fills the entire chasm with books, allowing the party to walk through to the other side.

There they meet Ruth, Clancy, and Guy one last time; the three are standing in front of a Logic Gate, and to open it the five philosophers must solve the Hardest Logic Puzzle Ever. In an epic feat that the bards will no doubt sing for years to come, Macx comes up with a solution to the puzzle, identifies each of the three successfully, and opens the Logic Gate.

Inside the gate is the Good King, still asleep after two centuries. His resting place is guarded by the monster he unleashed, a fallen archangel who has become a Queen Paradox Beast. The Queen summons a small army of Paradox Beast servants with Principle of Explosion, and the battle begins in earnest. Cerune stands in a corner, trying to manifest her nine magic axes, but Nomophilos uses his Conservative spell "Morning in America" to summon a Raygun capable of piercing the Queen Paradox Beast's armored exoskeleton. Macx summons a Universal Quantifier and attaches it to his Banish Paradox Beast spell to decimate the Queen's armies. Ephraim desperately tries to wake the Good King, while Phaidros simply prays.

After an intense battle, Cerune manifests all nine axes and casts them at the Queen Paradox Beast, dissolving the paradox and destroying the beast's magical defenses. The four others redouble their efforts, and finally manage to banish the Queen. When the Queen Paradox Beast is destroyed, Good King Bertrand awakens.

Bertrand is temporarily discombobulated, but eventually regains his bearings and listens to the entire adventure. Then he tells his story. The attack that triggered the curse upon him, he says, was no coincidence, but rather a plot by a sinister organization against whom he had been waging a shadow war: the Bayesian Conspiracy. He first encountered the conspiracy when their espionage arm, the Bayes Network, tried to steal a magic emerald of unknown origin from his treasury. Since then, he worked tirelessly to unravel the conspiracy, and had reached the verge of success - learning that their aim was in some way linked to a plan to gain the shattered power of the Mad God Aleithos for themselves - when the Conspiracy took advantage of his oath and managed to put him out of action permanently.

He is horrified to hear that two centuries have passed, and worries that the Bayesians' mysterious plan may be close to fruition. He begs the party to help him re-establish contact with the Conspiracy and continue figuring out their plans, which may be a dire peril to the entire world. But he expresses doubt that such a thing is even possible at this stage.

In a burst of flame, Heraclitus appears, announcing that all is struggle and that he has come to join in theirs. He admits that the situation is grim, but declares it is not as hopeless as it seems, because they do not fight alone. He invokes the entire Western canon as the inspiration they follow and the giants upon whose shoulders they stand ("Grand Finale").

Heraclitus, Good King Bertrand, and the five scholars end the adventure by agreeing to seek out the Bayesian Conspiracy and discover whether Russell's old adversaries are still active. There are nebulous plans to continue the campaign (subject to logistical issues) in a second adventure, Fermat's Last Stand.

MUSIC

LYRICS ONLY
Hobbes' Song: Let's Hear It For Leviathan
Kant's Song: I'm Evil Immanuel Kant
Thales' Song: All Is Water
Putnam's Song: All Is Water, Reprise

GOOD ARTISTS BORROW, GREAT ARTISTS STEAL
Dawkins' Song: Beware The Believers (credit: Michael Edmondson)
Chalmers' Song: Flee: A History of Zombieism In Western Thought (credit: Emerald Rain)

ORIGINAL ADAPTATIONS
Pascal's Song: The Devil and Blaise Pascal
Dennett's Song: The Zombies' Secret
Vampire Nagel's Song: What Is It Like To Be A Bat?
Heraclitus' Song: Grand Finale

A company near me is running an "outreach competition" with a first prize of 200 euro (=$275) for essays on "risk" from high school and university students. I know the person running the competition and he's very interested in probability calibration and cognitive biases. You can read more about the competition here.

The media, most recently The Economist and Scientific American, have been publicizing a surprising statistical finding: in the current economic climate, when more Americans than ever are poor, support for policies that redistribute wealth to the poor are at their lowest levels ever. This new-found antipathy towards aid to the poor concentrates in people who are near but not yet on the lowest rung of the social ladder. The Economist adds some related statistics: those who earn slightly more than the minimum wage are most against raising the minimum wage, and support for welfare in an area decreases as the percentage of welfare recipients in the area rises.

Both articles explain the paradoxical findings by appealing to something called "last place aversion", an observed tendency for people to overvalue not being in last place. For example, in laboratory experiments where everyone gets randomly determined amounts of money, most people are willing to help those with less money than themselves gain cash - except the person with the second to lowest amount of money, who tends to try to thwart the person in last place even if it means enriching those who already have the most.

"Last place aversion" is interesting, and certainly deserves at least a footnote in the catalogue of cognitive biases and heuristics, but I find it an unsatisfying explanation for the observations about US attitudes toward wealth redistribution. For one thing, the entire point of last place aversion is that it only affects those in last place, but in a massive country like the United States, everyone can find someone worse off than themselves (with one exception). For another, redistributive policies usually stop short of making those who need government handouts wealthier than those who do not; subsidizing more homeless shelters doesn't risk giving the homeless a nicer house than your own. Finally, many of the policies people oppose, like taxing the rich, don't directly translate to helping those in last place.

I propose a different mechanism, one based on ... wait for it ... signaling.

In a previous post, I discussed multi-level signaling and counter-signaling, where each level tries to differentiate itself from the level beneath it. For example, the nouveau riche differentiate themselves from the middle class by buying ostentatious bling, and the nobility (who are at no risk of being mistaken for the middle class) differentiate themselves from the nouveau riche by not buying ostentatious bling.

The very poor have one strong incentive to support redistribution of wealth: they need the money. They also have a second, subtler incentive: most redistributive policies come packaged with a philosophy that the poor are not personally responsible for the poverty, but are at least partially the victims of the rest of society. Therefore, these policies inflate both their pocketbook and their ego.

The lower middle class gain what status they have by not being the very poor; effective status signaling for a lower middle class person is that which proves that she is certainly not poor. One effective method is to hold opinions contrary to those of the poor: that redistribution of wealth is evil and that the poor deserve their poverty. This ideology celebrates the superiority of the lower middle class over the poor by emphasizing the biggest difference between the lower middle class and the very poor: self-reliance. By asserting this ideology, a lower middle class person can prove her lower middle class status.

The upper middle class gain what status they have by not being the lower middle class; effective status signaling for an upper middle class person is that which proves that she is certainly not lower middle class. One effective way is to hold opinions contrary to those of the lower middle class: that really the poor and lower middle class are the same sort of people, but some of them got lucky and some of them got unlucky. The only people who can comfortably say "Deep down there's really no difference between myself and a poor person" are people confident that no one will actually mistake them for a poor person after they say this.

As a thought experiment, imagine your reactions to the following figures:

1. A bearded grizzled man in ripped jeans, smelling slightly of alcohol, ranting about how the government needs to give more free benefits to the poor.

2. A bearded grizzled man in ripped jeans, smelling slightly of alcohol, ranting about how the poor are lazy and he worked hard to get where he is today.

3. A well-dressed, stylish man in a business suit, ranting about how the government needs to give more free benefits to the poor.

4. A well-dressed, stylish man in a business suit, ranting about how the poor are lazy and he worked hard to get where he is today.

My gut reactions are (1, lazy guy who wants free money) (2, honorable working class salt-of-the-earth) (3, compassionate guy with good intentions) (4, insensitive guy who doesn't realize his privilege). If these are relatively common reactions, these would suffice to explain the signaling patterns in these demographics.

If this were true, it would explain the unusual trends cited in the first paragraph. An area where welfare became more common would see support for welfare drop, as it became more and more necessary for people to signal that they themselves were not welfare recipients. Support for minimum wage would be lowest among people who earn just slightly more than minimum wage, and who need to signal that they are not minimum wage earners. And since upper middle class people tend to favor redistribution as a status signal and lower middle class people tend to oppose it, a recession that drives more people into the lower middle class would cause a drop in support for redistributive policies.