Until the 17th century, scientists thought blood was a one-way street. 

They believed blood was produced by the liver and consumed like food by the body's tissues.

 Until British physician William Harvey published a treatise so explosive, it was banned in England. He posited that blood was part of a circulatory system, continuously pumped through the body and recycled by the heart.

 In other words, when it comes to blood, what goes around comes around.

 Breaking new ground is never easy. You have to pull the rug out from under people. Shatter their reality. Ask more questions than you answer. 

It takes what Dr. Harvey called a love of truth. And a whole lot of intestinal fortitude.

 But it also requires faith. 

That the world won't come crashing down around you. 

That you won't be burned at the stake. 

And that this new reality is going to be better. 

Or at least truer than the one that came before.

Lava Lamp

 

The lava lamp is protosociety's purely unconscious expression of the primeval ooze on one level, 

shaping itself into our most remote sea-slime ancestors; 

on another level, the lava lamp is the pleroma, 

the fundamental stuff that gives birth to the existential condition... 

tabula rasa for the unconscious

 

Cyberpunk

 

Cyberpunk is a subgenre of science fiction set in a dystopian future. It is characterized by its focus on a combination of "low-life and high tech". It features a range of futuristic technological and scientific achievements, including artificial intelligence and cyberware, which are juxtaposed with societal collapse, dystopia or decay. A significant portion of cyberpunk can be traced back to the New Wave science fiction movement of the 1960s and 1970s. During this period, prominent writers such as Philip K. Dick, Michael Moorcock, Roger Zelazny, John Brunner, J. G. Ballard, Philip José Farmer and Harlan Ellison explored the impact of technology, drug culture, and the sexual revolution. These authors diverged from the utopian inclinations prevalent in earlier science fiction.

Comics exploring cyberpunk themes began appearing as early as Judge Dredd, first published in 1977. Released in 1984, William Gibson's influential debut novel Neuromancer helped solidify cyberpunk as a genre, drawing influence from punk subculture and early hacker culture. Frank Miller's Ronin is an example of a cyberpunk graphic novel. Other influential cyberpunk writers included Bruce Sterling and Rudy Rucker. The Japanese cyberpunk subgenre began in 1982 with the debut of Katsuhiro Otomo's manga series Akira, with its 1988 anime film adaptation (also directed by Otomo) later popularizing the subgenre.

Early films in the genre include Ridley Scott's 1982 film Blade Runner, one of several of Philip K. Dick's works that have been adapted into films (in this case, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?). Robocop (1987), Total Recall (1990), Judge Dredd (1995), and The Matrix trilogy (1999–2003) were also successful cyberpunk films. The 1987 show Max Headroom is considered the first cyberpunk television series, taking place in a futuristic dystopia ruled by an oligarchy of television networks, and where computer hacking played a central role in many story lines.

Newer cyberpunk media includes Tron: Ares (2025) and Tron: Legacy (2010), sequels to the original Tron (1982); Blade Runner 2049 (2017), a sequel to the original 1982 film; Dredd (2012), which was not a sequel to the original movie; Ghost in the Shell (2017), a live-action adaptation of the original manga; Alita: Battle Angel (2019), based on the 1990s Japanese manga Battle Angel Alita; the 2018 Netflix TV series Altered Carbon, based on Richard K. Morgan's 2002 novel of the same name; and the video game Cyberpunk 2077 (2020) and original net animation (ONA) miniseries Cyberpunk: Edgerunners (2022), both based on R. Talsorian Games's 1988 tabletop role-playing game Cyberpunk.

Cyberpunk plots often involve conflict between artificial intelligence, hackers, and megacorporations, and tend to be set in a near-future Earth, rather than in far-future settings or galactic vistas. The settings are usually post-industrial dystopias but tend to feature extraordinary cultural ferment and the use of technology in ways never anticipated by its original inventors ("the street finds its own uses for things").  Much of the genre's atmosphere echoes film noir, and written works in the genre often use techniques from detective fiction. Over time, cyberpunk has shifted from a literary movement to a subgenre of science fiction.

Classic cyberpunk characters were marginalized, alienated loners who lived on the edge of society in generally dystopic futures where daily life was impacted by rapid technological change, an ubiquitous datasphere of computerized information, and invasive modification of the human body.

Cyberpunk writers tend to use elements from crime fiction—particularly hardboiled detective fiction and film noir—and postmodernist prose to describe an often nihilistic underground side of an electronic society. The genre's vision of a troubled future is often called the antithesis of the generally utopian visions of the future popular in the 1940s and 1950s. Gibson defined cyberpunk's antipathy towards utopian science fiction in his 1981 short story "The Gernsback Continuum", which pokes fun at and, to a certain extent, condemns utopian science fiction 

In some cyberpunk writing, much of the action takes place online, in cyberspace, blurring the line between actual and virtual reality.  A typical trope in such work is a direct connection between the human brain and computer systems. Cyberpunk settings are dystopias with corruption, computers, and computer networks.

The economic and technological state of Japan is a regular theme in the cyberpunk literature of the 1980s. Of Japan's influence on the genre, William Gibson said, "Modern Japan simply was cyberpunk."  Cyberpunk is often set in urbanized, artificial landscapes, and "city lights, receding" was used by Gibson as one of the genre's first metaphors for cyberspace and virtual reality.

The cityscapes of Hong Kong has had major influences in the urban backgrounds, ambiance and settings in many cyberpunk works such as Blade Runner and Shadowrun. Ridley Scott envisioned the landscape of cyberpunk Los Angeles in Blade Runner to be "Hong Kong on a very bad day". The streetscapes of the Ghost in the Shell film were based on Hong Kong. Its director Mamoru Oshii felt that Hong Kong's strange and chaotic streets where "old and new exist in confusing relationships" fit the theme of the film well. Hong Kong's Kowloon Walled City is particularly notable for its disorganized hyper-urbanization and breakdown in traditional urban planning to be an inspiration to cyberpunk landscapes. During the British rule of Hong Kong, it was an area neglected by both the British and Qing administrations, embodying elements of liberalism in a dystopian context. Portrayals of East Asia and Asians in Western cyberpunk have been criticized as Orientalist and promoting racist tropes playing on American and European fears of East Asian dominance; this has been referred to as "techno-Orientalism". The city Chongqing in mainland China is often referred to as a "cyberpunk city".

 

Cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion

 

The Why Files about 'Simulation Theory'. It's everywhere - nearly 20 million views, and Elon's quote-tweet pushing it even higher. The gist: the double-slit experiment shows particles behaving like waves until we "observe" them, at which point they collapse into definite particles. The video they shared from The Why Files ties this to simulation theory, suggesting reality might only "render" when someone looks, just like a video game saves processing power by not fully loading unseen areas.

Then Elon drops his classic dinner story: he once asked a top physicist and a top computer scientist about the odds we're in a simulation. They answered at the exact same moment, the physicist said 0%, the computer scientist said 100%. He calls it a human version of the double-slit experiment. Perfect timing, perfect punchline.

The replies are a mix: some people are sold on the rendering idea, others call it pseudoscience, a bunch bring up God or consciousness, and plenty point out that "observation" in quantum mechanics isn't about human eyes or minds. That's the main thing getting muddled here, so let's start by getting the double-slit right, then see if the bigger simulation argument holds up anyway.

The Double-Slit Experiment, Explained Clearly

You fire electrons (or photons) one at a time through a barrier with two slits, and they hit a screen on the other side.

If you don't measure which slit each one goes through, you build up an interference pattern over time alternating bright and dark bands. That's wave-like behaviour. A single particle somehow interferes with itself, as if it went through both slits at once in a superposition.

Now put detectors at the slits to record which path it took. The interference pattern disappears. You just get two clumps on the screen, like particles picking one slit or the other. No more wave weirdness.

The viral take is: reality renders when observed! But the crucial detail is what "observed" actually means. It doesn't require a conscious observer staring at the setup. Any physical interaction that could reveal the path, whether a detector, scattered photons, air molecules, or thermal noise entangles the particle with its environment and causes decoherence. The superposition collapses (or branches, depending on your interpretation) because information about the path becomes available in principle, even if no human ever looks.

Blind automated detectors work the same way. Delayed choice experiments, where you decide whether to measure after the particle has passed the slits, still kill the interference retroactively in a mind-bending way. But again, it's the physical interaction doing the work, not awareness or consciousness.

So the "lazy rendering to save compute" analogy is fun and intuitive, but it doesn't map perfectly. In quantum field theory, the wave function evolves deterministically across all space. There's no evidence of on-demand rendering or pixelation at tiny scales. Cosmic microwave background looks smooth, high energy particles don't hit obvious cutoffs, and no repeatable glitches show up beyond normal quantum randomness.

Still, the experiment is one of the strangest things physics has ever shown us. Feynman said if you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don't. It forces us to rethink what "reality" even means before measurement happens.

Elon's Dinner Anecdote and the Real Case for Simulation

That physicist Vs computer-scientist split Elon described captures the divide beautifully. Physicists tend to dismiss simulation theory as unnecessary baggage. Why add a whole extra layer of simulators when the laws we already observe explain everything we see? Computer scientists and programmers look at things differently. They watch Moore's Law, GPU progress, virtual reality getting better every year, and think: give an advanced civilization a few more centuries, and running detailed ancestor simulations becomes not just possible but straightforward. Once you can do that, why wouldn't you run a huge number of them? Statistically, most conscious beings would end up being simulated ones rather than in the original base reality.

Nick Bostrom's 2003 paper put this into a clean trilemma. One of these three statements has to be true:

1. Almost all civilizations go extinct before they reach the posthuman technology level needed to run detailed ancestor simulations.
2. Posthuman civilizations exist but decide not to run many (or any) ancestor simulations, perhaps for ethical reasons, resource costs, lack of interest, or other motives.
3. We are almost certainly living in a simulation, because the total number of simulated minds would vastly outnumber the number of minds in base-level reality.

Elon leans strongly toward the third option. He has said multiple times that the odds of us being in base reality are one in billions. The dinner story highlights the exact tension: one expert sees the idea as adding pointless complexity with no proof, while the other sees it as the almost inevitable outcome of technological progress.

The double slit experiment doesn't prove we're in a simulation, but it does make you pause and wonder about efficiency in nature. Why does the universe seem to wait for an interaction before committing to a definite outcome? Entanglement produces instantaneous correlations across huge distances, what Einstein famously called spooky action at a distance. The fine-tuning of physical constants looks suspiciously precise for life to exist at all. And if we are inside a simulation, unexplained phenomena like UAP objects that appear to break known physics could turn out to be rendering errors, administrator interventions, or intentional features built into the system.

Counterarguments Worth Taking Seriously

The replies under the original post aren't all buying into the hype, and a lot of the pushback is fair and worth hearing out.

The most immediate objection is infinite regress. If we're living inside a simulation, then who or what is running the simulation? And if that higher level is also simulated, the chain just keeps going up forever. It doesn't actually disprove the idea, it simply shifts the original question one layer higher but it leaves you without a clean stopping point or ultimate explanation.

Then there's the lack of any smoking-gun evidence. Despite decades of looking, we haven't found pixelation in the cosmic microwave background, sharp energy cutoffs in particle collisions, or any repeatable computational artifacts that scream "this is fake." Experiments probing discreteness right down to the Planck scale keep returning results that look continuous and smooth, not chopped up like a video game grid.

Another big issue is that the simulation hypothesis, in its current form, is essentially unfalsifiable. No matter what we observe, you can always argue that the simulators made the system good enough to hide the seams. When a theory can explain away every possible counter-example, it starts feeling more like philosophy than testable science.

The tie between quantum measurement and consciousness gets overstated too. Decoherence - the process that makes superpositions look classical happens because of interactions with the surrounding environment, not because a mind is watching. Linking "observation" to awareness pushes things toward solipsism: does the universe stop rendering when I close my eyes or fall asleep? Most physicists working day to day prefer interpretations like many worlds (every outcome branches into parallel realities) or objective collapse models that don't give any special role to conscious observers.

Finally, even if we grant that we're in a simulation, it might not change how we live. The pain hurts the same, relationships matter the same, gravity pulls the same. Whether this is base reality or layer number 47, the experiences and consequences feel completely real from the inside. Betting your life on the idea being true (or false) doesn't obviously lead to different day to day choices.

UAP Angle and Why It Matters

If our reality operates like software running on higher level hardware, then sightings of objects that appear to violate aerodynamics, inertia, and even the speed of light in atmosphere could be more than just advanced technology or misidentification. They might be rendering artifacts, momentary glitches in the physics engine, temporary overrides by whatever runs the program, or even deliberate insertions for testing or observation purposes.

Some accounts from high strangeness experiences, whether close encounters, certain psychedelic states like DMT breakthroughs, or other altered consciousness reports describe seeing repeating geometric patterns, grid like overlays, or symbols that feel like peeking behind the visual interface. People talk about the world briefly looking "pixelated" or layered, almost as if the rendering layer became visible for a second. Of course, these could simply be neurological effects, brain chemistry creating illusions under stress or altered states. But they keep showing up in enough independent reports that they fuel the speculation: what if some experiences are accidental glimpses of the underlying code?

Even without going full metaphysical, UAP discussions often circle back to questions about the nature of reality itself. If physics has seams we haven't found yet, or if certain phenomena suggest the rules can be bent in ways our current models don't allow, simulation theory offers one framework for making sense of it without immediately throwing out everything we know.

It doesn't prove anything, but it keeps the conversation from feeling like a dead end. The same curiosity that drives people to chase UAP footage also drives interest in whether the universe is base-level or emergent from something deeper.

Final Thoughts

The double slit experiment is genuinely one of the most mind bending demonstrations in all of physics, but it isn't the smoking gun for simulation theory that the viral post and video make it out to be. The "reality renders when observed" line is a clever metaphor that captures the weirdness, yet it stretches the actual science, observation here is about physical interactions and decoherence, not conscious eyes or minds triggering a render pass to save processing power.

That said, the broader simulation hypothesis isn't killed by those clarifications. Nick Bostrom's trilemma, the explosive growth of computing and simulation tech, the fine tuning puzzle, quantum non locality, and even some of the stranger edges of reported UAP experiences keep the idea alive and worth serious discussion. Elon's dinner anecdote sums up why reasonable, intelligent people can land in completely opposite camps: one sees unnecessary complication with zero direct proof, the other sees an almost inescapable statistical conclusion once civilizations get advanced enough.

II am 100% convinced we live in some kind of simulation. I find the possibility fascinating and keep an eye on new tests or arguments. The hypothesis makes our existence feel stranger, more layered, and honestly a bit more interesting.

So what's your probability? Are you in the physicist's 0% camp, the computer scientist's 100% certainty, or floating somewhere like me? What single piece of evidence, some glitch we could actually measure, a new physics breakthrough, or something else would actually move the needle for you one way or the other?

Real or rendered?