An Interesting Anecdote From The Future

It was in the future.

He was reclining on his sofa reading the memoirs he had written in his late 20s. He had hunted for the book all through the house and finally got it from a dusty corner.

As he was reading the book, he could sense that something was missing from the work, though he could not really tell what it was. It was like some very important episode he had omitted from his manuscript.

With each passing moment this episode seemed to get refreshed in his mind—this episode supposed to have taken place in the past. Causality seemed to be irrelevant, as he felt the scene from the past approaching him from the future.

But he never really got there. Racking his brains for a while, he grew tired and fell asleep. When he woke up there was a nagging headache, somebody sitting on the sofa beside the one on which he had fallen asleep, and the faint remnants of a music in the air, which seemed to accentuate the headache.

His guest had picked up the book that had fallen on his chest when he had fallen asleep, and was leafing through it. The book obstructed the view of the guest's face.

The following conversation ensued:

"Who are you?", he asked the visitor.

"Who I am is not important. Who you are is the important thing. I have come here on a, well let's say—more than human mission, to see you. The conversation we are going to have is something I have been waiting for, for quite sometime."

He found the voice of the stranger too familiar—too familiar that he could not place it quite properly. But he did not mind it that much.

He continued, "I can understand why people may want to see me, but this intrusion on my privacy is, if not impossible, pretty unbelievable, given the security I am granted, and also, pretty outrageous. I believe you have a good reason to give me."

The visitor had a look of cold amusement on his face. He could not stand the vistor's coldness. He tried to stand up, but failed miserable—his limbs seemed paralyzed. A feeling of fear came across his mind. He asked again, "Who are you?"

The visitor continued coldly, "I hope you will not want me to re-iterate and again do so. I have made my intentions clear—I am not going to tell you. I am here to talk, and after that you can decide what to do. 'Til then, you are my...let's say, hostage? I believe we have a clear understanding."

He considered what the visitor had just said for a couple of minutes, then said, "OK. Ask me whatever question you have come here to ask."

"The visitor continued, "I am not here to ask anything of you. I am here to make statements. It is not mine to judge, only to make statements. It is not mine to choose, or decide—only to give you the options and the conclusions that come with each. It is not mine to make you - only to help you decide whether you need any making."

"So we start off now. What, let me ask you, has been the aim in your life?"

He smiled at the apparent contradiction here, and said, "You asking me a question?"

The visitor smiled in reply and said, "I know the answer to it. I am only trying to make a point. Technically in a higher sense, it is not, while in a mundane sense it indeed, is really a question. Answer me."

He considered this rather odd question for a while, and after a few moments, which could have been pretty long, said:

"My aim in life has been, and is, never to be a hypocrite. When presented with the knowledge of a situation, it has been of utmost importance to me, to analyze it as well as I could, to understand the various nuances of it, and thereby take a decision, and following it, a course of action that would be consistent with my set of basic values."

"Have you been successful at it?"

"Yes I am really confident about it."

"You of course realize that consistency of your actions with your set of values in no way can prove that you are not a hypocrite..." As if he somehow could understand the lack of clarity of his statement or the lack of clarity of thought of his hostage, he paused and added, "Of course, I mean that your values could be inconsistent among themselves."

"No, I have not considered that possibility. Perhaps you could guide me on this point?". Realizing the intellectual superiority of the visitor, he was now keen to learn from him; perhaps he had gone wrong somewhere.

"I will make statements, that's all I will do. It's for you to change or retain your modus operandi in life."

"I gather that you do not want to be a hypocrite, rather I already know that. Who is a non-hypocrite, but a completely rational being. Such a being should start from basic, unquestionable premises, follow the rules of logic, derive further rules, and base one's thoughts and actions on such rules."

"A hypocrite on the other hand, chooses to be selectively rational. He applies rationality to certain domains, and doesn't to other domains, or equivalently, chooses a different set of axioms for other domains.

"Now he would be completely rational if he knows definitely what axioms apply to what domains—that could be an additional axiom in his kitty of axioms."

"There are two ways to be not a hypocrite, which simply means to break no rules of rationality. One is to not have any axioms, and hence do no actions. Sounds like death? The second is, to have axioms, know them all, formulate each action according to what they say."

He almost cried out on hearing this, "Of course, the second! I cannot live without action!"

"Ok, let's hear your axioms then."

"I want to be the greatest player of all time (GOAT)."

"Hmmm...interesting. Define the word GOAT, for me."

"Well, it's quite simple—he is to have the greatest number of Grand Slam titles."

"Give me a number."

"I would be the greatest, if I have 15 now."

"What makes you think it is not possible for anyone to come after you to cross your mark, unless of course you plan to destroy humanity after your feat?"

"Hmmm...that is a major glitch. Ok, I will have the Grand Slam. Laver has already two, wait..I will have three. Oh damn! Again your argument stands."

"Think and give me the answer, no hurry."

"I will learn all possible tennis shots—I will be the most complete player."

"Let's put that to test—I will bypass the simple question of asking you to define the Universal Set of Tennis shots. What if someone else learns all the shots that you learn and executes it with lesser unforced errors?"

After waiting for an answer, the visitor continued, "Ok you know what, we will stop—you giving your possible axioms and I countering them. All such axioms are in contradiction with causality—the human being is a causal system. You cannot know what is to come in the future; hence you cannot put axioms on the future."

"It is always simple to accept something more objective and simple, like you want to be the best player as you are playing. There are objective measures available—like the ATP ranking."

"Well, I do not believe much in that—it depends on tournaments and not your opponents. The random probability of luck has quite a lot to say in these affairs."

There was a imperceptible smile on the visitor's lips. For a few moments there was silence all around—our protagonist deep in thought and his visitor seemingly absorbed in a book, which he was also using to cover his face.

He then spoke up having found what he was looking for. "Yes I know it! I cannot derive objective conclusions from my results because of lots of circumstances that are subjective. So I cannot base the motive of my actions on these results—the achievement of these results can never be the basic axiom of my life."

"I have no control over what I will achieve. But I have control over what I will do and how I will go about it."

"My axiom, then should be, to give my 100 percent every moment of every match of every tournament of my life. My axiom should be to learn from each movement I make, each shot I play, each and every unit of data I collect from the court."

"Results do not count for me. I cannot base my decisions on the match I may lose tomorrow. I cannot give up, unless it is the threat of a possible permanent injury."

Having realized the apparent contradiction in the whole scene, he said, "Wait! Aren't we now beyond all that stage? These things pertain to my career which is over. Wait...do not put me into sleep again..."

Rafael Nadal woke up, the morning of his first match of his professional tour.

Somewhere in the future, in a a metaphysical parallel universe, on a reclining sofa in a highly secured apartment, there was stuck a paper with a knife, written upon which was,

God is what It is, because it plays dice with the the human mind. Signed 666.