bookmark_borderThe Holy Algorithm

As it will surely not have escaped your insight, this weekend is Easter. Why now? The date of Easter is determined by a complicated process called the Computus Ecclesiasticus. I will just quote the Wikipedia page:

The Easter cycle groups days into lunar months, which are either 29 or 30 days long. There is an exception. The month ending in March normally has thirty days, but if 29 February of a leap year falls within it, it contains 31. As these groups are based on the lunar cycle, over the long term the average month in the lunar calendar is a very good approximation of the synodic month, which is 29.53059 days long. There are 12 synodic months in a lunar year, totaling either 354 or 355 days. The lunar year is about 11 days shorter than the calendar year, which is either 365 or 366 days long. These days by which the solar year exceeds the lunar year are called epacts. It is necessary to add them to the day of the solar year to obtain the correct day in the lunar year. Whenever the epact reaches or exceeds 30, an extra intercalary month (or embolismic month) of 30 days must be inserted into the lunar calendar: then 30 must be subtracted from the epact.

If your thirst of knowledge is not satisfied, here is a 140-page document in Latin with more detail.

As far as I understand, during the Roman Era the Pope or one of his bureaucrats would perform the computus, then communicate the date to the rest of Christianity and everybody could eat their chocolates at the same time. Then, the Middle-Ages happened and communication became much harder, so instead they came up with a formula so people could compute the date of Easter locally. Of course, the initial formulas had problems – with the date of Easter dangerously drifting later and later in the year over centuries, and don’t even get me started on calendar changes. Eventually Carl Friedrich Gauss entered the game and saved humanity once again with a computationally-efficient algorithm (I am over-simplifying the story so you have more time to eat chocolate).

But now is 2021, and I’m wondering how they run the algorithm now, in practice. I looked up “how is the date of Easter calculated” but all the results are about the algorithms themselves, not about their practical implementation. I have a few hypotheses:

  1. There are responsible Christians everywhere who own printed tables with the dates of Easter already computed for the next few generations. If your Internet goes down, you can probably access such tables at the local church.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e4/DiagrammePaques_Flammarion.jpg
Here is such table from 1907 (Wikimedia commons)

Of course this does not really solve the problem: who comes up with these tables in the first place? Who will make new ones when they expire?

2. There is a ceremony in Vatican where a Latin speaker ceremoniously performs the Holy Algorithm by hand, outputs the date of Easter, prints “Amen” for good measure and then messengers spread the result to all of Christianity.

3. Responsible Christians everywhere own a Computus Clock, a physical device that tells you if it is Easter or not. When in doubt, you just pay a visit to that-guy-with-the-computus-clock. Then, it is like hypothesis 1 except it never expires.

4. There is software company (let’s call it Vatican Microsystems®) who managed to persuade the Pope to buy a license for their professional software solution, Computus Pro™ Enterprise Edition 2007 – including 24/7 hotline assistance, that only runs on Windows XP and they have a dedicated computer in Vatican that is used once in a while to run these 30000 lines of hard Haskell or something. Then, it goes just like hypothesis 2.

(Of course, all of these solutions are vulnerable to hacking. It might be as easy as sneaking into a church and replace their Easter tables with a fake. A talented hacker might even have it coincide with April fools.)

If an active member of the Christian community reads this and knows how it is done in practice, I am all ears.

Anyways, happy Easter and Amen, I guess.

bookmark_borderThe Great Happiness Filter

I.

The universe is full of wandering celestial bodies covered in complex, superintelligent lifeforms who engage in eternal masturbation.

That’s it. That’s the Great Happiness Filter.

II.

This idea has been discussed before, but it strikes me that people still struggle to find other solutions to the Fermi paradox, as if the Great Happiness Filter was not already explaining everything. Sure, synthetic biology going out of control, AI going out of control, cosmic superpredators going out of control, Earth-is-a-zoo, all make great film plots. But that is what they are: great film plots. We hear about them because they are on display in sci-fi films and books. You know what Great Filter hypothesis would make a terribly boring film? Aliens sitting in the dark with a wire plugged straight to the happiness center of their brains, doing nothing, while a combination of robots and nuclear fusion takes care of all the logistics1An earlier version of this post was about stimulating the pleasure centers of the brain. But stimulating happiness should work just as well (just replace dopamine with serotonine, something along this line). It also makes the idea a bit scarier, for some reason.. All they have to do is figure out which neurotransmitters and which parts of the brain are involved in the “I’m happy” sensation, and find a way to stimulate it. Save your philosophical arguments about whether they are really happy or if they just have the illusion of being happy, it does not matter for the following.

You might object, this is not optimal, eventually they will run out of whatever fuel they are using, or their sun will turn into a red giant, so they should still try to expand and obtain more energy. As Robin Hanson puts it:

After all, even navel-gazing virtual reality addicts will likely want more and more mass and energy (really negentropy) to build and run better computers, and should want to spread out to mitigate local disasters.

This rests on the assumption that intelligent civilizations will necessarily try to fully optimize masturbation. They won’t. Compare this to heroin addiction: all things considered, heroin addiction is far from being the ultimate hedonistic experience (quite the opposite), yet many people still get trapped into it. You don’t see heroin-addicts building Dyson spheres to make sure they have a sustainable feed of high-quality heroin forever in the future. This also applies to masturbation. For the Great Happiness Filter to occur, you don’t need a perfect self-sustaining planetary masturbation system. You just need to reach the threshold were masturbation is just the right amount of good, so it’s not worth working to fix the flaws of your current masturbation scheme, because you would need to stop masturbating in order to do that. Past this threshold, intelligent lifeforms will not try to improve their masturbatory experience anymore, and will just chose to masturbate instead. Maybe there will be a warning, like as little red icon on the lifeform’s internal brainscreen that will say “warning: your fusion reactors have almost turned everything into iron already, please plug the system to a new planet”, but who cares at that point? You can just ignore the warning and enjoy maximal sensation of fulfillment and satisfaction. This is basically a sink point.

III.

The real difficulty with the Great Happiness Filter is the order in which the relevant technologies are discovered. If robotic servants and artificial general intelligence are developed before happiness-pods, then there is a chance that we get to stay in the pod while a robotic butler continues to improve the experience on our behalf. In that case, we are back to the Fermi paradox and space colonialism, because our butlers will try to maximize the energy we can spend on happiness-pods. Eventually, our civilization’s masturbation-maximizers might conflict with other civilizations’ paperclips-maximizers (not all civilizations can be as wise as ours), leading to cosmic-scale battles. On the other end, it is likely that happiness-pods are available to everyone before we get the appropriate energy source to sustain them. In that case, the intelligent lifeform will quickly go broke and possibly go extinct (as if the entire humanity got addicted to heroin at once). But between these two extremes, there is a large sweet stable spot where there is enough automation to power the happiness-pods and make sure everything is running well, but not enough to expand and reach for new planets. As a result, we get plenty of silent planets covered in happy masturbating lifeforms, traveling through space at speeds beyond imagination. Remember this when you look at the stars.