Let's hope Q-Day becomes known as Quiet Day
I was both pleased and horrified by the article on Q-Day (25 April, p 10).
Pleased, because the coverage and comparison with Y2K was accurate and measured, unlike some who declared it a hoax when, after the event, not that much went publicly wrong. I know it wasn’t fake because, like many software professionals of my era, I both contributed to the creation of the problem in the late 1970s and early 80s, and was involved in fixing it in the late 90s. Yes, some of the reporting was overblown 鈥� aircraft wouldn’t have fallen out of the sky on the stroke of midnight 鈥� but had we not largely fixed it in time, there would have been real disruption with the likes of reservation and scheduling systems and, as with the Q-Day problem, banking systems.
Horrified, because the Q-Day problem is real and has been known about for a few years, yet there doesn’t seem to be the same urgency that was generated for Y2K. I sincerely hope that I live to read the headline on the day after Q-Day 鈥� “What was all the fuss about?” or, more succinctly, “Q-Day was Quiet-Day”.
The start of a lifelong fascination with dinosaurs
I thoroughly enjoyed the excellent interview about dinosaurs and pterosaurs with Dave Hone, and it reminded me of my introduction to dinosaurs in the UK National History Museum when I was 10, some 70 years ago (2 May, p 40).
My mother and aunt had taken my cousin and me on our first visit. I was enthralled by the Triceratops and stopped to sketch it. The rest of the party moved on. As I was drawing, an attendant came up to me and said, “Would you like a writing desk?” I said, “Yes please.” He brought me a fold-up chair with a writing surface. I became engrossed. Fifteen minutes later, my mother returned, having been anxiously looking for me. The attendant assured her that I had been diligently occupied the whole time. It was the start of a lifetime fascination.
Red tomatoes and quantum fields
I found the article on the essence of reality very interesting. However, it isn’t difficult to conceive of things being equally real whether we are considering our normal perceptions of the world (“red tomatoes”) or more abstract concepts, such as quantum fields. We know that light consists of a continuous range of frequencies. However, our perception of different colours is also real, even though the mystery of how the brain produces this seems as hard a problem to solve as consciousness (2 May, p 36).
Two contrasting takes on the nature of time (1)
I can’t pretend to explain how we experience time, but I’m sure it isn’t what Tim Redman proposes. We don’t observe something happening and say, “Oh, the entropy is increasing, so time must be flowing in a positive direction.” True, the arrow of time can be related to a global increase in entropy, but we can hardly perceive entropy-changes directly through our senses (Letters, 2 May).
Yes, we register time flowing by the change between events, as Redman points out, but the direction of time becomes apparent as the ordered sequence of memories in our brains, rather than in some unbelievable direct human perception of entropy.
Two contrasting takes on the nature of time (2)
I have to agree with Tim Redman. Time is a human construct for measuring the “now” of successive events. Relativistic events appear so because the working parts of measuring instruments, namely clocks, are what are affected.
Separating perception from consciousness
Regarding the article “Unlocking consciousness”, it seems to me that the excellent and wonderful work of Nao Tsuchiya et al. is about perception, not consciousness. If we could map a cat’s colour perception, I think we would find a similar web of contrasts and similarities. I think a cat is aware of colour, but I don’t think it’s aware that it’s aware of colour. But we humans are aware of being aware of colour. That awareness of being aware may be just the brain simulating a centre of awareness, a self (28 March, p 30).
I think “being conscious” refers to behaviour, not an attribute. The brain simulates reality, and part of that reality is the brain that simulates it. The human brain simulates itself as the perceiver of the simulation, hence “I”. That’s handwaving, I know. But if it is a reasonable stance, then the question isn’t: “What is the structure of consciousness?” Instead, it is: “How does the brain do being conscious?”
More on dreaming without a mind's eye
Andrew Dennant’s description of being jolted awake by images while falling asleep, despite his aphantasia, mirrors my own experience. During the transition to sleep, I once “saw” an incredible, perfectly symmetrical gem with fantastic colours. Even in that hypnagogic state, it felt genuinely present (Letters, 25 April).
Upon fully waking, I knew that such an object couldn’t exist in reality. My mind, I believe, hadn’t generated a true image, but had simply convinced itself that it was seeing, much as it does when my eyes are open. This leads me to a similar conclusion for my dreams: they contain no imagery, only the belief that I am seeing. I would be curious to know if others with aphantasia interpret these rare, vivid glimpses in the same way.
On the difficulty of parental controls
I had to laugh at John Jared’s thoughts on the potential difficulties of enforcing a social media ban, given the ingenuity of school-aged children. Many years ago, in an effort to stop my kids from watching TV as soon as they came home from school, I put a PIN on the TV (Letters, 2 May).
I would ask them a question and the answer would be a number that was the PIN. So at least they would learn something.
An easy one to start: How large was the Zulu force at the Battle of Rorke’s Drift? The next day, they were watching TV. So, what’s the answer? I asked my 8-year-old daughter. I learned how to reset the TV and beat the PIN, she replied.