A big hand, please!

Okay, it’s time now for a change of scenery. At this point, let me welcome another character to the cast. A big hand, please, for Mr Einstein. He’s come here at my behest. I admire the man so much that I’m adding him to my chain of predecessors. How about that then? He’s going to be another forebear of mine.
 
I see, you say. But how would I manage that? Or rather how would Dog? Because, you see, there are certain complications.
 
But wait, let me finish. I haven’t properly introduced the man. What? You don’t think that I need to? Why is that? Oh I see—he’s so well known. But you’re making an assumption there, you realize.

Isn’t it strange how we jump to conclusions? There must be thousands of people who share the same surname. How did you decide that I wasn’t referring to his son, say, or his uncle? Or even someone from another family altogether? What made you home in on old Albert? Is he more important than everyone else? How so?
 
Let me ask you something else. When I mentioned the name Einstein, you would have visualized the man. Okay then, can you tell me how he appeared in your mind’s eye. What features stood out?
 
You’d probably describe Albert’s shock of white hair, his mustache and rumpled clothes. That’s amazing. Because I bet that you’ve never met him. Nope, you must be thinking of a photograph—probably one that was taken near the end of his life (the one where he sticks out his tongue at the camera is a favorite). But do you know—his hair was once cut short. It used to be black. Why not picture him as he was then? Why did you choose to picture him as an old man?
 
Here’s another quickie for you. Answer me this: How old is Einstein? No, not his age in the picture you chose, but in actual fact. Very well, that shouldn’t be too tough to work out. You take Einstein's birth year and you subtract it from what year it happens to be now. Hey presto, there's your answer. But are you sure? Say we have 2012 minus 1879. That makes one hundred and thirty three. 

Heavens to Murgatroyd! How many 133-year old people do you know? Can you visualize someone that old? And if you can, wouldn’t that creature resemble Gollum more than Albert Einstein? It doesn't bear thinking about, does it? It doesn't sit comfortably, nor does it make sense.

If Albert (Einstein) had died at his peak in a car crash like Diana, the consensus, most likely, would be that he is about 36 years old. It doesn't compute to us that a body keeps aging after it dies (although a corpse’s fingernails and beard are said to keep growing for a few days). Someone who lived a good long innings, though, and who was memorable for several events during their lifetime—how old do you imagine them (assuming they’ve left the land of the living)? It's a weird thing to consider, don't you think?

How about you? Never mind how old you actually are, how old do you feel yourself to be? And does that perceived age change with time? By that I mean that as time passes, does your self-image age too? Does it keep pace with the clock, or by another ratio? And maybe it isn’t uniform—it speeds up or slows down according to your physical condition, health, or life circumstances. 

Zip when it moved

Pick any random multi-digit number. 4534644 will do (a previous phone number). Have each of those numerals represent a birthday. Next, let’s flitz through those years.

At a given moment you find that you are four years old. Great. Nothing wrong with that. That’s how old you are now. You are not surprised; after all, you remember 1, 2 and 3. Four is just how old you are at present.

From there, let’s say that your awareness flitzes to age five. Well and good—you’ve aged as expected. You remember being 1, 2, 3 and 4. Five is simply how old you are at present.

But then suddenly you are three. How will that work? Let’s see. You remember being 1 and 2, so you’ve aged as expected. You have no memory of being 4 or 5, so they must be still in your future. Three is how old you are at the present. You have aged as expected from 2. That’s all that you know.

At any age, the previous birthdays are nicely nested. You never have pre-knowledge of years in the ‘future’, so from your vantage point (and from those of your parents) there is nothing unusual going on.

When you hit four for the second time (though it may as well be the 10th or 100th) you don’t do a double take. You don’t even suffer déjà vu. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve just turned four after having been 1, 2 and 3. You haven’t retained anything from when you were four previously.

Jumping from four to six, you don’t perceive any gap, because when you turn six all your memories from 1 through 5 are instantly uploaded.  The last birthday party that you can recall is your fifth, ergo you have lived it. Been there, done that.

In this way, every jump in any direction—forwards in time, backward, and even sideways—poses no problem at all for Mr Stick.

A deck of cards is all that you need to make time pass. You don’t even need a thumb flipping through them. Leave it sitting on a shelf if you like. No sleight of hand is needed. It’s active without any help. It’s alive. It whirrs and pulsates and a little light flashes (maybe a virtual electron leaping from one energy state to another). The nested nature of its consciousness moments causes it to happily imagine itself alive and passing time. It hums and purrs contentedly like a screen saver.

Isn’t this nifty? We now have a model for life, or rather one particular lifetime. A creature’s life is simply a set of instants. Each instant contains an awareness of its other (‘past’) instants. It’s hardwired into them. It may be that this set is subset, although it could also be the universal set (how’s your New Math?). Creatures are separate only if their consciousness instants have no awareness of each other’s.  If you can't remember it, you can't lay claim to it