The Moral Dilemma of Reverse Entropy

Martin Amis’ Time's Arrow has given me an existential crisis.  In the book, a conscious being experiences the life of a man with time running backwards.  The crisis begins with morality.  One who experiences actions in reverse time sees sins as deeds, and deeds as sins.  For example, thinking of murder; the murderer is perceived as saving the dead person by reversing the action.  Likewise, a benevolent act such as giving money is perceived as taking it.  The beneficiary begins in a happy state, yet after the money is given, they may appear to be in distress.  Essentially, all charity is stripped by the act of giving.  It is perceived as theft, not a donation. 

You may think that time can never run backwards, but that is not true.  Eventually, everything in the universe will get sucked into a black hole (probably not a single one, but collectively at the centers of supermassive galaxies).  In a black hole, space-time is thought to reverse; therefore, time runs backwards to anything that falls inside it.  Everything you're experiencing right now, like the act of reading this, will happen in reverse time once all the matter in our bodies goes through a black hole. 

Considering this, one gets the sense that our actions have no meaning.  If we are terrible people in this life, we re-live it as a great person in a reversed one.  If we are charitable saints in this life, we will be seen as horrible terrorists in the next one.  The balance appears to be beautiful on the surface, because all our devious actions can be undone.  But for those of us who are good, the choices we make are entirely distorted by the perception of our opposite intent.  Knowing that, who's to say that reverse entropy didn't happen before this universe; that reverse-time was actually the first law of the universe, and that all the choices we are making are simply derivatives of the choices made in reverse-time?  Our universe is a destructive one.  Entropy means that time is always decaying things.  A reversed universe is a creative one; time would always be building things in that one.  It's a universe of progress, so if our terminology is consistent, then that has to be seen as the original universe, for destruction always follows creation.  Out of chaos the universe was built, not out of order. 

The only philosophical consolation I can gather from this is that since everything in the universe beyond is reversed, perhaps thoughts are too, and so must morality by principle.  Bad actions may be seen as good there.  If progress is seen as destruction, then a deed may appropriately be seen as a sin. 

Albert the Brave

 Albert thought the tree looked like it ought to be conquered.  It was Yggradrasil, the holy center of the cosmos, an immense ash that towered to the high realms, home of dragons and stags and all-knowing eagles that clenched their talons on the branches.  That token of the Prose Edda extended farther than any other, branching off into worlds beyond; worlds like Alfheim, land of the elves of light; or Jotenheim, land of the frost giants.  What mysteries he would find if he should climb that mighty tree.  Such a madness accelerated him into the shadows of her leaves, which fanned out over the world like a forbidden sky.  He was entering from Midgard, yes, the mid-realm alotted to humans by the Norse Gods. 

Under the tree grew a series of glossy bushes that may have hidden the fairies of Midsummer, Oberon and Titania among them.  Best not to disturb the mischievous sprites, who would surely turn him into an ass if he interrupted their sleep.  So, he climbed, out of the Earth and into the world between worlds, a place that invited him, branch by branch, into the sacred root of creation.  He couldn't wait to tell his brothers about this.  They'd be annoyed by this mythological tangent at first, but eventually they'd catch on and be envious of his scaling of the universe.  To be on top of it all, he would tease them, is the greatest feeling in the world.  Nothing could bother you up there.  You ruled the Gods and the Gods bowed only to you.  He'd show them, yes, he'd bring them here and brag about how he'd ascended the tallest tree in the world all on his own.  They would laugh at him like they always did, but he would know the truth; that he, Albert the Brave, had earned the sole honor of climbing that impossible tree standing alone on the hill.  All these ideas flashed before him in a series of joyful images as he climbed this impenetrable fortress. 

He imagined poisonous snakes that were coiled around the branches, squirrels with buck teeth that chewed on the heads of the dead from Valhalla, frost giants that just missed grabbing his legs as he swiftly escaped their reach.  Those devourers from Jotenheim swiped at him every chance they got, but he was always too fast for them.   

As he neared the top, the winds shifted as the four stags pranced among the leaves, each represented by a cardinal direction.  Daylight shown through the gaps above, quickly overtaken by an ominous cloud, possibly sent from Asgard to foil the boy's ascent.  The tree was too high, he needed a rest.  It smelled of burnt wood up here, a possible result of the war between Vanaheim and Asgard.  The Gods of fertility and wisdom vs. the soldiers of Odin.  That would be a sight indeed, but not for today.  Today he would reach the top. 

Just before resuming his climb, the rain started to fall, seeds of rebirth from the eyes of Freya.  Her weapons caused him to slip, but he held on tightly to the bark.  Nothing could stop him now that he was so close.  Up and up, he went, though he had to admit it was getting harder to climb.  Looking up, briefly he thought he could see the all-knowing eagle, waiting for him at the top.  Just one more minute, he called.  A few more kicks of the leg, and up there he'd be, to seal his fate. 

Now the sky opened up and he was but a few feet from the top.  An aching hand reached out for the summit, yet became interrupted by a great crashing from the sky above.  Albert looked up and saw the hammer of Thor, the prince of Asgard so angered by this mortal's intrusion, strike down on the black foot of the clouds, creating a ripple of lightning that headed straight for the boy's outstretched arm.  Albert closed his eyes and prayed.  The force sent him flying, in dizzying shards of murderous abandon, past the four stags of the winds, the snakes coiled among the branches, even the Bifrost connecting this world from the one he belonged, tumbling through the canopy of a chaotic and restless world, landing on his back among the fairies in a guttural thump that sent any remaining birds in the vicinity flying away faster than he'd fallen. 

Hurricane Harvey

    Hurricane Harvey just made landfall near Rockport, Texas.  It strengthened from a category 2 this morning to a category 4 in the evening.  Harvey is dynamically unique.  It's one of the slowest moving hurricanes I've seen- it was moving at 7 miles an hour when it made landfall and is forecasted to get even slower.  Most alarming is that it is expected to double back tomorrow and circle around to its current position 3 days from now.  It's expected to still be a hurricane at that point.  The region will have to suffer over 3 days of hurricane force conditions- pretty incredible.
    This happened because two strong high-pressure ridges developed on the east coast and in the north, jamming Harvey's path and causing it to sputter.  Record rainfall is expected due to the slow pace of the hurricane.  Some places will get over 40 inches of rain over the next few days- a number that surpasses Seattle's average for a whole year!  I fear the damage will be far worse than Matthew last year.  It may be the worst hurricane to hit U.S. soil since Katrina in 2005.

East of the Heart

Your eyes are sad, distant, 
Needing my touch,  
Or the laughter you left: 
Those merry gifts of children, 
Chiming down the walls of your heart, 
Where paintings of a past life 
Decorate your dreams in love and light. 
I, the one who stole your soul, 
Brought you to the ends of the Earth, 
Bound by love, hardened by haste, 
Reaching for a memory that once stood 
On a jade slab as smooth as your soul,  
A reclined Buddha closing the door 
On a world you kissed goodbye. 
What a beast I am, 
To take you from your home, 
From all your loved ones, 

Those who depend on you, 
Only for my selfish gain, 
That a man, as lucky as I, 
Might be loved by a woman 
Blessed with such beauty as you possess. 

The Three Boys

The painter on the hill sketched them where they lay.  Three boys, exposed to the elements, stretching on their blanket over freshly mowed grass.  Princely in appearance yet ragged in behavior.  They pointed at planes that glided over the town, preserving some sense of wonder that all boys cherish in their youth, so the painter thought.  He was sure to express this important detail on their faces, which were turned sideways along the breeze, all awash from the light of yellow flowers that glowed among the foreground of that wonderful town below the hill. 

The town was like a brown lake nestled inside a landscape between mountains.  The painter mused that the three brothers would never share a moment so close to heaven, or anything that would ever feel as remotely close to home.  He searched for a way to put this in the painting, but it wouldn't come.  Finally, a surreal impression came upon him, that a cloud vaguely shaped like a hearth might send this message to the heart.  It would be the final touch on an otherwise realist work of art. 

One of them suddenly leaped off his feet and took off through the meadow, followed closely by a smaller one.  The third, who looked to be the most reclusive, diligently folded the blanket, picked up a bag, and started after them.  Perfect timing, thought the painter.  Just enough to gather the essence of these lads.  He wished for them to return sometime, perhaps with some girls, or a dog to play with.  Maybe they at least had some sporting goods, or a kite; that would be nice.   

It's often where one isn't looking that the greatest inspiration comes from.  Places you wouldn't expect.  On this day, it wasn't an accident.  The painter had fully expected to paint a scenic view of this peaceful town, and the view didn't disappoint.  What he hadn't expected were three of the happiest boys he'd ever seen.  He wondered what the depraved outside world would tarnish their youths with.  It happened to everyone eventually, an axiom that made one as miserable as a widow.  He wished their summer would last an eternity for them, not be the fleeting type that great summers often are.  For it is known that time is a terrible thief; it steals itself from the happy moments and indulges in the sorrowful ones.  Those boys, how soon would they know sorrow?  One day, time would miss them so much that it would flood them with its suffocating remembrance.  The only question was when. 

 

Reinstate the Fairness Act

 The increasing divide in our country can only be explained by one thing: media bias, which became accelerated by the invention of the Internet.  Sole blame should be placed on (the vastly overrated) Ronald Reagan.  In 1987, Reagan pushed the FCC to repeal the Fairness Doctrine, which had required all news outlets in the USA to report fairly and with impartiality.  From 1949-1987, the spinning of news stories that appealed to someone's political orientation was mostly obsolete.  Now you see it everywhere, on both the left and right.  None are more alarming than Breitbart, the news platform of the alt-right, which posts daily "news" that is designed to threaten its readers with extreme right-wing prejudice.  (For example, any low-key crime committed by someone in an ethnic minority is thrust into the top stories of the page, reinforcing the racial prejudice that results when people are constantly seeing crimes only committed by those outside their own race.) 

The rise in extremist political philosophy since 1988 is not a coincidence.  First came the rise of Fox News and MSNBC, two of the most biased outlets of the right and left, respectively.  The divide got greater as these two giants of the media got more and more in tune with their audience, knowing they only wanted to read stories that confirmed their worldviews.  Now we have radicalized news organizations like Breitbart taking the country by storm.  In all likelihood, someone like Donald Trump would not have been elected if not for this platform. 

To mend the gap, we need to take a page from our history and restore the Fairness Doctrine, or instate something like the UK's Office of Communications, which regulates the media, forcing all news outlets to report impartial news stories.  This is why you don't see any radicalized political groups with a large voice in that country.  The UK understands that the media holds a dangerous amount of power, that it can single-handedly decide an election, or influence public opinion better than anything else.  The UK understands that a regulated media keeps their country united and doesn't let it spin out of control like it is in the USA.  Offcom allows watchers to file complaints if any news organization prints an impartial story, putting a lot of pressure on organizations like the BBC to stay fair and balanced.  Honestly, I can't even read the news in our country anymore, because of all the emotionally charged headlines.  I read the foreign news from Britain when I want to know what's really going on. 

If the UK can figure it out, why can't we?