Turing's demon (II)
In the previous episode, a demon who looks like Elvis Costello (to allow for gratuitous product placements) was summoned out of Michael's laptop. It's time for him to begin explaining himself.
“Glad to see we have a narrator” said the demon, “adds a certain tone to the proceedings. Elvis Costello eh? I was expecting David Byrne,
or perhaps Peter Gabriel,
but I guess that's your choice. Now, I was going to tell you about myself.”
“Before you begin,” I interrupted “this doesn't require me to sign any contracts in blood, or sell my soul or anything like that does it? And what do you mean ‘my choice’?”
The demon looked offended “That is so medieval. We haven't been purchasing souls much since WWII, indeed since the Industrial Revolution. The big guy decided that there were better ways to manage business. We make the occasional exception of course, as I'm sure you're aware. No, I'm just bored and in the mood to tell a story. Anyhow, your psychic field establishes my appearance, which I could change of course.” and as he said this his face and body flowed through a number of different and mostly terrifying shapes, before settling back into the rather geeky look, which he had begun with. “My name is alan23612-7654 and I'm a Turing demon. Most people just call me Al.”
“A Turing demon? And what's with all the numbers in your name?”
“Well it's my PokerStars name as well you see. Now look, I know you're an academic, and you're going to keep interrupting -- so all these quotation marks are going to get pretty tiresome. How be I talk like this, and you talk in italics?”
Sounds good to me. What about the narrator?
He can sort out his own formatting. Besides, in a well written narrative we won't be hearing much from him. So you've heard of Maxwell's demon right?
Sure, a thought experiment, which gives an apparent violation of the second law of thermodynamics. He sits between two containers of gas at equal temperature and allows low energy molecules to escape from one to the other, and high energy molecules to travel in the other direction. So, the temperatures become unequal, thus violating the second law. But they've worked out that it's not really a problem -- something about the increase in entropy required to clear his memory or something.
A simple yes would have sufficed, but go to the head of the class. As for not existing, try and tell that to my father. Now the creature you've described is properly called Maxwell's angel -- he's a helpful bugger. Maxwell's demon, or rather demons, choose to work the other way -- they accelerate the increase in entropy. We've had them on duty since the invention of the steam engine, and more recently in the internal combustion engine. They make sure that things never run as efficiently as they should. Now it's a horrible hot job, and though it can't hurt our cause to make the big oil companies richer, and help you lot out with destroying the environment, it's never been much fun. So the big guy started looking for alternatives.
But hang on, aren't the conditions in an engine cylinder comparable to those in, you know, Hell? Isn't it kind of like home? And why do you actually have to be there -- I mean, aren't your powers limitless?
No, no, omnipotent is the other guy. We're just honest toilers. Well, toilers anyway. As to the conditions, the old home fires have never been that popular either. The big guy has a theory that they're actually some sort of psycho-temporal reflection of the environment that most of us have been working in for the past 200 years. Apparently, some of your authors
have come up with some similar ideas. But we're getting sidetracked, and not, I suspect, for the last time. Look can I have a drink? Jameson's if you've got it -- just pour it in a normal glass.
Sure. I went to the kitchen and poured out two Jameson's with a bit of water. When I placed the glass beside him, it quickly shrank to an appropriate size. I noticed that he appeared a bit perplexed. What's wrong?
Seems like our author, or narrator, or whatever missed a chance for a product placement there. Probably has views -- it's ok to drink, but not to advertise it. All right, are you sitting comfortably? Then let's begin.
And there we must, once again, leave our tale. We definitely have views about the appropriate length for a blog entry. Join us again tomorrow, or thereabouts, for further riveting revelations.
“Glad to see we have a narrator” said the demon, “adds a certain tone to the proceedings. Elvis Costello eh? I was expecting David Byrne,
or perhaps Peter Gabriel,but I guess that's your choice. Now, I was going to tell you about myself.”“Before you begin,” I interrupted “this doesn't require me to sign any contracts in blood, or sell my soul or anything like that does it? And what do you mean ‘my choice’?”
The demon looked offended “That is so medieval. We haven't been purchasing souls much since WWII, indeed since the Industrial Revolution. The big guy decided that there were better ways to manage business. We make the occasional exception of course, as I'm sure you're aware. No, I'm just bored and in the mood to tell a story. Anyhow, your psychic field establishes my appearance, which I could change of course.” and as he said this his face and body flowed through a number of different and mostly terrifying shapes, before settling back into the rather geeky look, which he had begun with. “My name is alan23612-7654 and I'm a Turing demon. Most people just call me Al.”
“A Turing demon? And what's with all the numbers in your name?”
“Well it's my PokerStars name as well you see. Now look, I know you're an academic, and you're going to keep interrupting -- so all these quotation marks are going to get pretty tiresome. How be I talk like this, and you talk in italics?”
Sounds good to me. What about the narrator?
He can sort out his own formatting. Besides, in a well written narrative we won't be hearing much from him. So you've heard of Maxwell's demon right?
Sure, a thought experiment, which gives an apparent violation of the second law of thermodynamics. He sits between two containers of gas at equal temperature and allows low energy molecules to escape from one to the other, and high energy molecules to travel in the other direction. So, the temperatures become unequal, thus violating the second law. But they've worked out that it's not really a problem -- something about the increase in entropy required to clear his memory or something.
A simple yes would have sufficed, but go to the head of the class. As for not existing, try and tell that to my father. Now the creature you've described is properly called Maxwell's angel -- he's a helpful bugger. Maxwell's demon, or rather demons, choose to work the other way -- they accelerate the increase in entropy. We've had them on duty since the invention of the steam engine, and more recently in the internal combustion engine. They make sure that things never run as efficiently as they should. Now it's a horrible hot job, and though it can't hurt our cause to make the big oil companies richer, and help you lot out with destroying the environment, it's never been much fun. So the big guy started looking for alternatives.
But hang on, aren't the conditions in an engine cylinder comparable to those in, you know, Hell? Isn't it kind of like home? And why do you actually have to be there -- I mean, aren't your powers limitless?
No, no, omnipotent is the other guy. We're just honest toilers. Well, toilers anyway. As to the conditions, the old home fires have never been that popular either. The big guy has a theory that they're actually some sort of psycho-temporal reflection of the environment that most of us have been working in for the past 200 years. Apparently, some of your authors
have come up with some similar ideas. But we're getting sidetracked, and not, I suspect, for the last time. Look can I have a drink? Jameson's if you've got it -- just pour it in a normal glass.Sure. I went to the kitchen and poured out two Jameson's with a bit of water. When I placed the glass beside him, it quickly shrank to an appropriate size. I noticed that he appeared a bit perplexed. What's wrong?
Seems like our author, or narrator, or whatever missed a chance for a product placement there. Probably has views -- it's ok to drink, but not to advertise it. All right, are you sitting comfortably? Then let's begin.
And there we must, once again, leave our tale. We definitely have views about the appropriate length for a blog entry. Join us again tomorrow, or thereabouts, for further riveting revelations.
Labels: fiction
posted by Michael Albert at 7:47 pm
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