We start this lecture series with a classic metaphysical thought experiment which clearly demonstrates the epistemological limitations of ontology.
Suppose one constructed a box containing a tiny radioactive chunk consisting of one atom with a half life of an hour. In the box is also a decay detector that is rigged to release a vial of poison if and when the decay occurs. Now suppose we add an infinite number of cats to the box along with an infinite number of typewriters and more paper than you can possibly comprehend. Further suppose one were to place this box in a tree in some woods and then leave the woods, subsequent to which the tree might fall with no one hearing it. After an infinite amount of time, the question is whether in this universe there is merely a wave function probability that the cats have produced the entire works of Shakespeare or whether there is a guarantee that in some universe the cats have done so. Further, if the cats were to push a leather bound version of their creation out of the box, would a person in any universe be able to tell whether the box contained cats and typewriters rather than Shakespeare and a bookbinder, or possibly a computer simulation of an infinite number of cats?
Next we'll mentally explore what happens if we accelerate to the speed of light a box possibly containing cats or a dead playwright, and then hurtle it into a black hole.
41 comments:
Wooooh, Dude, that was deep, like cats in a box, it blows my mind.
I think I'm in the wrong class.
This thought experiment demonstrates that your lack of understanding of the Copenhagen Interpretation is only possibly exceeded by your feeble comprehension of Shakespeare. The entire premise is sophomoric at best. You sir are a disgrace to both physicists and insomniacs. You should be stripped of any philosophical credentials immediately.
I understand the principal implications of this, but what if it were monkeys instead of cats?
Hmmmm... and what do you think it means that these cats are not smoking cigars?
Curious,
I don't think it would work with monkeys.
I like cats.
"After an infinite amount of time, the question is whether in this universe there is merely a wave function probability that the cats have produced the entire works of Shakespeare or whether there is a guarantee that in some universe the cats have done so."
My question is this: How can we do something after an infinite amount of time? Saying it is infinite is saying it never ends. If time never ends, how can we do anything after that? And, on another note, I suppose there is the possibility that somewhere in our infinite (there's that word again) universe, there could be a race of super intelligent cats with opposable thumbs furiously cranking out Shakspearean-type works of literature on typwriters, then mercilessly killing off another species (human, perhaps?) just because their skin makes for gorgeous leather book covers.
And, finally, N. Bohr: Please support your claims. You come across as kind of an a**.
What if I don't have that many cats, can it be done with less?
For the love of humanity, if it's cats in the box, let them out!
My dear lady, you don't understand. The cats currently exist in a state of being both possibly alive and possibly dead. The whole superimposed reality would collapse upon itself if you were to open the box, just as likely assuring the cats' demise as setting them free.
It is best to let them continue typing.
The Simpsons did it! The Simpsons did it! Season 3 episode 6
Obnoxious my good fellow, that is precisely the point. The Simpsons writers have been typing for so long that they almost surely have written every possible story line.
Gosh darn it! I thought this was somethin new.
Might I submit a question to the cats or the computer?
If the radioactive chunk has the half-life of an hour, then why would we leave the cats alone in the box with their typewriters and the paper for an infinite amount of time? And, if they pushed their leather-bound book out of the box (in the tree, in the woods, with no one around)...would anyone be there to read it?
All this talk of half dead cats, it's not only merely stupid, it's really, most sincerely stupid.
I am becoming increasingly concerned that the cats now have access to fissionable material. For they almost surely will eventually type instructions for devising weapons of mass destruction.
Leó, calm down. I still suspect a chance we are dealing merely with some kind of computing device that is pretending to be cats, a form of artificial feline. I am devising a sort of test to discern between these two states of reality.
Trying to duplicate your experiment here in Chicago STOP Having difficulty with herd of cats STOP please advise=
Aye, feck it, herding fecking cats and congressmen 'tis like minding mice at a crossroads.
Cats are alien varmint. Where did I leave my gun.
It's passed on! This cat is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late cat. It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed it to the selectric it would be pushing up the daisies! It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This is an ex-cat!
True enough, but I'm right out of cats at the time. Might I offer you a slug?
Does it type?
Alan, I find your mathematics to be rather cryptic, but I'd rate you a 6 of 6 on my scale.
Wouldn't taking this sort of measurement disturb the subject?
The question, is the answer interrogated?
Leó, I share your concern. Those crafty cats are full of wiles. We should inform the President at once of the threat from this new evil axis.
Let them eat yellow cake!
Off with her head!
Are these regular cats, with nine lives? Or cats with possibly only one life?
An infinite number of cats with nine lives... oh, to think of the bounty they would probably produce. It would fill an infinite library. Everything would be in their blind volumes. Everything: the detailed history of the future, Aeschylus' The Egyptians, the exact number of times that the waters of the Ganges have reflected the flight of a falcon, the secret and true nature of Rome, the encyclopedia Novalis would have constructed, my dreams and half-dreams at dawn on August 14, 1934, the proof of Pierre Fermat's theorem, the unwritten chapters of Edwin Drood, those same chapters translated into the language spoken by the Garamantes, the paradoxes Berkeley invented concerning Time but didn't publish, Urizen's books of iron, the premature epiphanes of Stephen Dedalus, which would be meaningless before a cycle of a thousand years, the Gnostic Gospel of Basilides, the song the sirens sang, the complete catalog of the Library, the proof of the inaccuracy of that catalog. Everything: but for every sensible line or accurate fact there would be millions of meaningless cacophonies, verbal farragoes, and babblings. Everything: but all the generations of mankind could pass before the dizzying shelves — shelves that obliterate the day and on which chaos lies — ever reward them with a tolerable page.
Borges, perhaps an infinite number of monkeys could be trained as editors.
Editors? They might as well be flying monkeys! This place isn't at all like Kansas.
The cats should be allowed to dance and sing.
I once heard a frog sing. I laughed, I cried... it was better than cats.
All this pondering of the imponderable has given me a headache, dahling! Where, oh where, can my Advil be? By the way, when we begin driving at the speed of light, will we still need out headlights?
Per §612.2(e) General Theory of Relativity, headlights are no longer required. Though when changing lanes, blinkers or appropriate hand gestures must still be used.
Once in relativistic motion, please remain seated and keep your various body parts and belongings inside the tram at all times.
Your probability would be infinitely higher if the cats were in a hat.
Cats can create forever and a day, though art is in the eye of the beholder.
In my world everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And counterwise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?
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