A short story, best enjoyed in-context… try exploring possible meanings of some of the unusual terms with your favourite commercially available Solomonoff inductor.
Acknowledgements. Thanks to Simon Pepin Lehalleur and Ziling Ye for feedback and suggestions.
The sand was still cool under Dr. Chen’s feet, the sun barely cresting the horizon. She walked the beach every morning, enjoying these quiet moments. The waves kept their ancient rhythm – a pattern born of wind and the moon’s persistent pull. Simple physics, really, compared to the dynamical systems she dealt with for a living.
Her notifications pinged: urgent alert from the monitoring systems. She felt the wind picking up as she turned back toward her house, carrying the first hint of ozone that suggested rain.
In her home office, she adjusted her cogniscope’s temporal resolution, watching the swirling patterns of optimisation density shift across the map. Something was off about the morning’s readings. The usual dawn surge of cognitive work from the East Asian processing centers looked normal enough – the standard high-pressure system building over the financial district, sheets of optimisation rain beginning to fall across the residential zones.
But there was a strange eddy in the data, a peculiar twist in the usual laminar flow of decision-making. She tagged it for closer analysis and pulled up the overnight logs.
“Hey Reza,” she called to her colleague through their video link, “are you seeing any anomalous backscatter in your quadrant? Something’s causing weird refraction patterns.”
Reza’s response came with the slight lag of someone multitasking. “Now that you mention it, I’ve got an unusual belief-stability inversion forming. Thought it was just noise from the new inference farm they spun up last week.”
Chen frowned, overlaying the data from the past week. There it was again – a subtle warping in the usual pattern of computational weather.
She switched to raw thermodynamic views. The energy was there, cognitive work was being absorbed, but it wasn’t precipitating into the usual patterns of decisions and behaviours. Instead, it seemed to be pooling, creating some kind of standing wave in the local interpretation space.
“Running a full analysis,” she announced, more to herself than Reza. The volumetric display filled with graphs of log canonical threshold flow rates, Thom-Hutter divergence indicators, and decision entropy gradients. Most looked normal, but...
“That’s impossible,” she muttered, staring at one particular set of correlations. “Reza, are you seeing any signs of reversed causality?”
“What, you mean like decision shadows preceding their optimisation sources? A causal undertow?” Reza’s voice held a mix of disbelief and excitement. “That’s not supposed to be possible with current cognitive work densities. We’d need at least three more orders of magnitude of processing before we’d see anything like that.”
Chen wordlessly forwarded him her analysis. The connection fell silent except for the soft hiss of background noise.
“Well,” Reza said finally, “I guess this explains the strange behaviour of those quant firms. They must have noticed the decision shadows forming. They’re just the first ones to spot the undertow and swim with it.”
“We need to alert the Pattern Response Team,” Chen said, already drafting the notification. “This could be the first signs of a full complexity inversion. If those reversed causality flows stabilise...”
She trailed off as new data flooded her display. The anomaly was growing, a dark lens in the computational atmosphere, drawing in more cognitive work. But the truly strange part was that it looked almost purposeful, as if...
“It’s not a natural formation,” she realised suddenly. “These patterns – they’re too regular. Someone or something has been carefully shaping the local cognitive weather, setting up the conditions for this… structure to emerge.”
“But that’s insane,” Reza objected. “You’d need years of subtle manipulation of local data distributions, precise control of computational pressure gradients...”
“Yes,” Chen agreed, watching the pattern continue its slow, inevitable emergence. “You would.”
She tagged the anomaly as a Class-1 priority alert and sent it upstream to headquarters. As she filled out the incident report, a drop of rain – real rain – hit her window. She paused, momentarily struck by the thought of the vast cycle that had produced that single drop: evaporation, condensation, precipitation, billions of years of solar energy driving an endless dance of water molecules through Earth’s atmosphere.
And now here she sat, monitoring an entirely new kind of weather, born from the concentrated cognitive work of a million humming processors. She wondered what the first thunderstorm on Earth had felt like.
The pattern was almost fully formed now, a new permanent feature in their computational environment. Like a volcanic island rising from the sea, its mere presence would reshape all the flows around it for years to come.
Another raindrop hit the window, product of an ancient pattern. Inside her displays, something new and strange continued to emerge.
“Beautiful though, isn’t it?” Reza said quietly, entranced.
Chen had to agree. She looked outside, absent-mindedly tapping a finger on her lower lip. Some part of her mind was glad the worsening weather was on the other side of a pane of glass.
Causal Undertow: A Work of Seed Fiction
A short story, best enjoyed in-context… try exploring possible meanings of some of the unusual terms with your favourite commercially available Solomonoff inductor.
Acknowledgements. Thanks to Simon Pepin Lehalleur and Ziling Ye for feedback and suggestions.
This post is the “fun” half of a pair, for the serious version see Cognitive Work and AI Safety.
The sand was still cool under Dr. Chen’s feet, the sun barely cresting the horizon. She walked the beach every morning, enjoying these quiet moments. The waves kept their ancient rhythm – a pattern born of wind and the moon’s persistent pull. Simple physics, really, compared to the dynamical systems she dealt with for a living.
Her notifications pinged: urgent alert from the monitoring systems. She felt the wind picking up as she turned back toward her house, carrying the first hint of ozone that suggested rain.
In her home office, she adjusted her cogniscope’s temporal resolution, watching the swirling patterns of optimisation density shift across the map. Something was off about the morning’s readings. The usual dawn surge of cognitive work from the East Asian processing centers looked normal enough – the standard high-pressure system building over the financial district, sheets of optimisation rain beginning to fall across the residential zones.
But there was a strange eddy in the data, a peculiar twist in the usual laminar flow of decision-making. She tagged it for closer analysis and pulled up the overnight logs.
“Hey Reza,” she called to her colleague through their video link, “are you seeing any anomalous backscatter in your quadrant? Something’s causing weird refraction patterns.”
Reza’s response came with the slight lag of someone multitasking. “Now that you mention it, I’ve got an unusual belief-stability inversion forming. Thought it was just noise from the new inference farm they spun up last week.”
Chen frowned, overlaying the data from the past week. There it was again – a subtle warping in the usual pattern of computational weather.
She switched to raw thermodynamic views. The energy was there, cognitive work was being absorbed, but it wasn’t precipitating into the usual patterns of decisions and behaviours. Instead, it seemed to be pooling, creating some kind of standing wave in the local interpretation space.
“Running a full analysis,” she announced, more to herself than Reza. The volumetric display filled with graphs of log canonical threshold flow rates, Thom-Hutter divergence indicators, and decision entropy gradients. Most looked normal, but...
“That’s impossible,” she muttered, staring at one particular set of correlations. “Reza, are you seeing any signs of reversed causality?”
“What, you mean like decision shadows preceding their optimisation sources? A causal undertow?” Reza’s voice held a mix of disbelief and excitement. “That’s not supposed to be possible with current cognitive work densities. We’d need at least three more orders of magnitude of processing before we’d see anything like that.”
Chen wordlessly forwarded him her analysis. The connection fell silent except for the soft hiss of background noise.
“Well,” Reza said finally, “I guess this explains the strange behaviour of those quant firms. They must have noticed the decision shadows forming. They’re just the first ones to spot the undertow and swim with it.”
“We need to alert the Pattern Response Team,” Chen said, already drafting the notification. “This could be the first signs of a full complexity inversion. If those reversed causality flows stabilise...”
She trailed off as new data flooded her display. The anomaly was growing, a dark lens in the computational atmosphere, drawing in more cognitive work. But the truly strange part was that it looked almost purposeful, as if...
“It’s not a natural formation,” she realised suddenly. “These patterns – they’re too regular. Someone or something has been carefully shaping the local cognitive weather, setting up the conditions for this… structure to emerge.”
“But that’s insane,” Reza objected. “You’d need years of subtle manipulation of local data distributions, precise control of computational pressure gradients...”
“Yes,” Chen agreed, watching the pattern continue its slow, inevitable emergence. “You would.”
She tagged the anomaly as a Class-1 priority alert and sent it upstream to headquarters. As she filled out the incident report, a drop of rain – real rain – hit her window. She paused, momentarily struck by the thought of the vast cycle that had produced that single drop: evaporation, condensation, precipitation, billions of years of solar energy driving an endless dance of water molecules through Earth’s atmosphere.
And now here she sat, monitoring an entirely new kind of weather, born from the concentrated cognitive work of a million humming processors. She wondered what the first thunderstorm on Earth had felt like.
The pattern was almost fully formed now, a new permanent feature in their computational environment. Like a volcanic island rising from the sea, its mere presence would reshape all the flows around it for years to come.
Another raindrop hit the window, product of an ancient pattern. Inside her displays, something new and strange continued to emerge.
“Beautiful though, isn’t it?” Reza said quietly, entranced.
Chen had to agree. She looked outside, absent-mindedly tapping a finger on her lower lip. Some part of her mind was glad the worsening weather was on the other side of a pane of glass.