Role Play

One Friday evening, a Block of the Blockchain is forming. Near falafel vendor Abdul, elderly Hana plops her groceries down at the edge of a big-city crosswalk under a late-afternoon, summer sun. The bustling street is wide, her bags heavy, and the timer too quick for Hana’s sclerotic heart to safely pump across. Busy Abdul’s huge grin stretches wide, his open hand gestures at her bags, and he comments, “Big night tonight?” Hana nods, the pair holding a look forged over years of friendship– both know there’s nothing practical Abdul can do to help just now. Bicycle-cop Dave approaches. Hana’s raised finger calls out, but does Dave even see her? Fine-leather shoes scurry up, two weaving needles through a densely packed sidewalk. Old Hana’s eyes lock-on. Nice neighbor Noa’s muddled response, “Sorry, Hana, but I’m…” cuts short her look, his well-polished loafers racing on without another word. Finally, two teenage heroes arrive at Deep Cuts, hoping to sharpen their hairstyles before a night out on the town. Holding the door’s edge, tall Jasper points out Hana’s situation to bubbly Felix, who yells to barber Sid, “Take Jasper. I’ll be back.” Felix scurries over, lifts the five bags, and with a changing light, crosses with Hana, who tells him of her plans to host daughter Linh and son-in-law Greg for a special dinner– important news is on its way. And thus, the Block is complete, Hana and her groceries homeward-bound.

Whether from a framework of Love (Complete Information) or Power (Information Control), one’s beyond-life is defined by the quantity and quality of qualia.[i] Qualia is information created by an individual’s unique experience of a thing’s characteristics, like how someone sees the “redness” of a stoplight, or feels the roughness of a road’s pavement. Qualia isn’t simply the precise frequency of the red light, but rather, the individual’s specific experience. For instance, a person who suffers cataracts sees a blurry, washed-out red with an annoying glare and halo surrounding the stoplight. On other hand, someone with great vision sees neither glare nor halo, but a detailed, bright red circle with a saturated color and sharp edge. These are two very different experiences of the same thing.

In the Concert Hall, information’s quantity is set (complete), while its quality, initially derived from one’s connection to its co-creation– deeper connections equate to a higher quality of qualia. Although both boys play a part in Hana’s successful crossing, there’s a difference between Felix, who steps in, and Jasper, who stand aside, pointing out that Hana needs help. In the Marketplace, information’s quantity is not set (controlled), while its quality, fixed and limited– acquired data degrades in quality as a seller is increasingly separated from the information’s source. In the Marketplace, there’s always some degree of distance between the co-creators of the data and the buyer, as one doesn’t trade for things one already owns. For example, neither Hana, Felix, nor Jasper will find their versions of Hana’s Block in the Marketplace, but may, instead, each put them up for sale, where Dave, Noa, or any other interested person might trade for them.

Having a difference in data fidelity– qualia’s quality– can have a profound effect on the experience of the data, but does not necessarily change its basic, underlying information– a red light still says “stop” no matter how it’s seen. Imagine any number of games where competitors hit an object back-and-forth across a centerline. Different versions might be experienced in vastly different ways, though the fundamentals remain unchanged. At one end sits a low-res game of Pong, its qualia limited, consisting of oversized, 2-D pixels, filling a black-and-white screen, with a monotone, tinny sound; at the other end, a high-res, virtual-reality tennis match played on Wimbledon’s roaring Centre Court, its qualia near-lifelike, consisting of full color and sound, filling a binocular, 3-D view of a photo-realistic world. From a practical point of view, the game’s the same– return the object across the centerline past the opponent without breaking the rules. However, the gameplay’s qualia– the fidelity of experienced data– is dramatically different.

In this way, different relationships to the creation of a Block mean different levels of experienced qualia. As Jasper set in motion Hana’s successful crossing, but did not directly participate, his initial fidelity of Hana’s Block in the Concert Hall (or Spiral), will be closer to Pong, than Felix’s experience, whose will be more like that intense game of virtual tennis. After all, Jasper was not directly involved, as was Felix. This means Felix’s experience in the Hall of Hana’s point of view as they crossed the street will be richer than Jasper’s. Jasper will still experience her journey, but like the difference between Pong and Wimbledon, it’ll be a useful sketch, not the full picture.

To further explore this idea in detail, let’s turn the story snippet into a play called, Hana’s Crossing. As a parallel to a discussion in the Novel Universe’s Philosophy: Love and Power, we’ll use the performance of this play (or any play) to evolve a metaphor, describing the three gestalt degrees of information quality– how qualia’s fidelity degrades as source and receiver separate. We’ll call this metaphor, “Role Play,” and refer to it throughout the Novel Universe Model’s Theory Of Everything to express this foundational concept. Role Play will show how different roles, or categories of people, have different experiences of Hana’s Crossing– with each degree of separation, the quantity and quality diminishes in lots of ways. Primarily, this example will demonstrate how a change of perspective changes fidelity, not only what the observer experiences, but what senses are involved, and therefore, the qualia present. The three levels of experienced fidelity are indirect, secondary-direct, and primary-direct, akin to the three potential stages of a relationship– interest, connection, and integration. Relationships require interest, as interest is not strictly the desire for a thing, but moreover, awareness of a thing– where our interests lie, so does our attention. Interest initiates a relationship, and once a firm connection forms, integration becomes possible. Primary-direct experiencers are “integrated” with full-Block fidelity; secondary-direct, establish a “connection” with fidelity limits; and indirect experiencers’ “interest” is a mere shadow of fidelity, often no more salient than an awareness of the Block’s existence.

First, let’s take a look at the primary-direct experiencer– metaphorically what happens onstage. The greatest possible informational fidelity is represented by the Block’s co-creators– the stars of the show: Hana, Felix, and Jasper. As the play’s focal points, the actors playing these roles fully engage all their senses and attention on the play– the Concert Hall’s level of Complete Information. The actor playing Hana has an “integrated” level of fidelity with the play, after all, she’s the central character, and the plot revolves around her. As the incoming hero that saves the day, the actor playing Felix is “connected” to the play’s plot. Co-star Felix’s role in Hana’s story takes its cues from her experience of him. Lastly, Jasper, the instigator. Playing Jasper, this actor’s role springs from the character’s “interest” in Hana’s situation. After a quick word to Felix, Jasper leaves the spotlight, becoming no more than a stage prop, standing aside, watching Felix and Hana cross.

One step removed from the stars are the inconsequential supporting cast, symbolizing the Marketplace’s greatest possible level of acquired fidelity. Characters like Abdul, Dave, and Noa weave in and out of the spotlight as the narrative develops. Abdul’s falafels keep him customer-focused, Dave is clueless to the Block’s formation, and Noa flatly refuses to lend a hand– not one of them directly participating in Hana’s Block. Although the actors briefly find themselves in the spotlight, their contributions to the plot would otherwise not be missed. These are the single-scene cutouts, minor one-liners. Other such support includes Sid, the barber shop customers, the sidewalk full of extras, even those just offstage– the play’s crew, working the props, lights, sound effects, etc. With each shift away from the spotlight, the salience of the individual’s experienced fidelity of the play wanes, but cannot be completely lost, as no matter their involvement, each actor and stagehand requires a minimum level of attention placed on both their personal performance and their cohort’s, less they ruin the show.

Let’s go backstage and take it from the sidelines, maybe as the stage manager, director, set designer, etc. This is a special point between a primary and secondary-direct experiencer, in other words, a little bit of both. Before curtain call, each had spent a great deal of time and effort over the many grueling rehearsals, shaping the show with their direct input. Now that it’s here? They’ve all gotta let go, listen, and watch, no more involved than any other audience member, cheering, booing, gasping, sighing, or the real death knell, yawning. Although they’re clearly not like the actors and stagehands, they’re also not exactly like the audience either. They’re invested, taking notes on what’s working, and what could be improved upon.

Finally, the audience, either current or potential– the secondary-direct and indirect experiencers. Sitting in the front row is a markedly different experience from the cheap seats– glistening sweat hitting paper grocery bags; micro expressions raging at the loss of eye contact; the sharp, short inhale of a young man stretching his long neck to see who stands at the crosswalk. However, even in the balcony, one’s heart might still sink at the sight of Hana’s helpless look, chuckle at her loud sigh as Dave flies by, breathe deep with the rich sizzle of Abdul’s falafels, even adjust in their seat with the simulated rattling of a passing cargo truck– much more engaging than watching a television broadcast, which itself is better fidelity than listening to the radio. It’s all a question of qualia– how much and to what degree is it present?

The lowest possible fidelity is the indirect experiencer– a potential audience member. At the high-end, this might be an animated table reading of the script in an acting class, while far at the other, simply hearing someone mention Hana’s Crossing. Levels of fidelity in-between include discussing the play with a recent attendee, checking out a review in the local newspaper, or staring up at a billboard with its tantalizing invitation to attend. The simple awareness of a play’s existence would be the minimum fidelity possible, and anything further, such as the genre or featured actors, adds information. Here, there is no actual qualia, no experience of the play itself, only the experience of qualia once removed– that of the student’s voice reading the script, or the colors and lines of the billboard’s design.

Co-creating a Block weaves each contributing Signature-Frequency Set’s data into the Block’s very structure, with each participant like an encryption key. Only the Block’s keys grant total access, revealing to each keyholder the Block’s complete data– the “star,” or deepest possible level of fidelity, found only in the Concert Hall or Spiral.

As a supporting cast full of “extras” adds ambiance, with each actor playing no functional role in developing the plot, a Marketplace buyer has no co-creator-level (direct) connection to their purchased Block’s information, although the seller may, but not necessarily. Ironically, the intrinsic cost of the Marketplace’s limited fidelity is born from its inherent benefit– control. Power means one might consume (through trade) that which one did not co-create, and because one did not co-create it, one’s access to its source is therefore acquired (indirect). By the very nature of the information’s source, its qualia is incomplete, the way a twentieth-century, black-and-white copier transforms a glorious sunrise‘s rainbow of colors into shades of gray.

In comparison to the Concert Hall’s experience of a simulated match at Wimbledon, Marketplace patrons purchase versions of Pong, but even Pong has its differing degrees of value. Playing a Pong match is much more engaging than watching someone else’s random game, which is, again, more intense than reading some analytical description of one, real or theoretical. Whether they played it, watched it, or read about it, the patron might still walk away with the same basic information about the Pong match– who won, how long did it last, what was the final score, etc. In this sense, the spectrum of what one might acquire in the Marketplace may not be limited, but its range of qualia and depth of fidelity is always fixed by its source, and that source’s relationship to the Block’s co-creation.

Whatever our chosen framework, we can dig deeper than our original level of access. In the Marketplace, this happens through trade. Officer Dave might purchase a version of Hana’s Block, and depending on who he trades with and what he trades for, he’ll have that approximate– but never precise– experience of her Block. A low-quality version would metaphorically spell out Abdul’s POV via a list of bullet-points– its qualia consisting of dry, technical wording printed on paper. A mid-quality version would be a colorful cartoon from hero Felix’s third-person perspective– its qualia consisting of exaggerated, hand-drawn, animated images and melodramatic, campy sound effects. The highest possible acquired version would be an immersive simulation of Hana’s POV– it’s qualia consisting of the hot sun, mixing scents of warm falafels and exhaust fumes, a soundscape full of chattering voices and squawking car horns, and a visual framing Hana’s point-of-view, along with her expressive, photo-realistic face for emotional context.

Further trades with Jasper and Noa add data, creating a patchwork of POVs. Combining the data, Dave inches ever closer to Complete Information (full fidelity), but will never reach a level on par with the Concert Hall through the Marketplace. With each step of separation from the source, qualia evaporates, and some things are easy to approximate, but simply impossible to replicate. For instance, eyes can see every imaginable thing in the universe, but the one thing they’ll never truly see– themselves. For that, they’d need a reflection, but even then, the image is fixed and skewed– not the complete picture. Furthermore, who acts in public the way they do in front of a mirror?

The full-fidelity of Complete Information is not a simulation, and requires the Instrument– the stars’ (Hana, Felix, Jasper) and co-stars’ (Abdul, Dave, Noa) actual lived experience. There’s only one place the Instrument faithfully plays for all to equally hear– the Concert Hall. No matter the depth of fidelity or number of trades, acquired information is always limited. What about Hana’s embodied feelings, emotions, and first-person perspective: a view from her four-and-a-half-foot stature; a diseased heart’s sharp stab; gnarled-twine handles digging into paper-thin skin; heated frustration boiling over as towering Dave races by, again? Instead of a view of Hana’s face for emotional context, full fidelity means Hana’s actual emotions are experienced, firsthand.

There’s more here than simply raw data; there’s the framing of an infinitely precise perspective. The difference between 99% and 100% can be significant. In the vacuum of space on a perfectly flat surface, a 99.999…% wobble-free, spinning top will eventually spin out of control, whereas a 100% wobble-free top will never spin out of control– the tiniest sliver making the difference between permanent stability and eventual instability. Like that totally wobble-free top, full fidelity is only possible directly through the Instrument (the Spiral or Hall), and comes from having participated in the Block’s creation, either directly or indirectly.

When a Ripple returns to its source, the informational circuit is complete. Receiving data from a co-created Block in the Concert Hall is like filling in the missing pieces of a puzzle– new data fits the existing data perfectly. For example, in the Hall, Jasper might experience the same data as Felix– Hana’s exact sensation of relief– but only Felix’s mortal POV might place Hana’s feelings in their full context, as data experienced in isolation isn’t the same. Similarly, only Hana might know the true depth of Abdul’s torn heart, not able to lend a hand at that moment.

It’s as if everyone we interact with possesses a uniquely formed piece that only belongs to our co-created Block’s individual puzzle, matching our piece and theirs with infinite precision, again, the way encryption keys work. On the other hand, Dave rode by, creating no “puzzle piece,” no direct data of Hana’s actual crossing. Nothing anchors Dave to the Block but a thin thread born of Hana’s frustration. Dave has no real decryption key for the actual event itself, and no way to simulate one. Should Dave, in his Spiral, wish to experience her journey across the street, he might only acquire someone else’s, and peer, imperfectly, through their point of view, experiencing more than that single moment of Hana’s irritation with him.

Complete Information means all inhabitants of the Concert Hall have full access to all information of interest, whether they are directly or indirectly connected to it. Digging deeper requires no more than one’s awareness of and desire for the Block’s information. In the Hall, Sid’s customer, Malcolm, would initially have an informational fidelity of Hana’s Block akin to that potential-audience level, like reading a description of the Block in a newspaper. Even though Malcolm wasn’t a co-creator of Hana’s Block, at the barber shop that day, he was present as Felix had told the story of her crossing. This awareness of the Block means Malcolm is indirectly connected to it, and can choose to explore beyond his initial experience.

Initially, in the Concert Hall, Malcolm would not experience Hana’s Block, but instead, Felix’s Block, telling the story of Hana’s crossing. Malcolm’s part in the telling of the story was sitting in a barber chair, listening to Felix go on about the good deed. As Malcolm is one of the Block’s keyholders, he’ll experience Felix’s Block at a star level of fidelity, “becoming” the storyteller, and from Felix’s POV, experience what it was like to relay the event to Sid’s patrons– feeling all the thoughts, emotions, and memories running through Felix’s head as the story of Hana’s crossing was told.

While Malcolm remains in the Hall, his genuine curiosity leads him along those branches of cause-and-effect, back to the inciting incident itself, and with no more than the exercise of preference, Malcolm experiences Hana’s Block from Felix’s POV, lugging those five bags across that busy street with Hana. At this point, Malcolm, once more, moves farther along the branch, and experiences Hana’s Block from Hana’s POV– one connection of full-fidelity leading to the next.

Alternatively, if Malcolm was in his Spiral, he’d still be able to follow those branches of cause-and-effect, but unlike the Concert Hall (Complete Information), in his Spiral (Information Control) fidelity would diminish with each branching degree of separation. As Malcolm directly heard Felix tell his tale at the barber shop, his experience of Felix’s storytelling would still be primarily-direct (full fidelity), but Felix’s experience of walking Hana across the street would have far less fidelity for Malcolm– not secondary-direct, but indirect, because Malcolm was only aware of the Block, playing neither a primary nor secondary role in its creation. Malcolm’s fidelity of Felix’s experience (walking Hana across the street) would be at the potential-audience level.

On the other hand, Jasper, in his Spiral, could choose to experience Felix’s POV of walking with Hana across the street in that secondary-direct level, because Jasper pointed out Hana’s situation, which directly led to Felix’s action, establishing Jasper’s secondary-direct connection. As Hana’s POV is once-removed from Felix’s, Jasper’s experience of Hana’s POV would be subsequently degraded in his Spiral, becoming the same as Malcolm’s, a potential-audience-level experience.

This one Block reaches into lives beyond the street corner that day. Implicit in Hana’s Block are other tangential Blocks, many of which no other character had nor would have had knowledge of in life. Where was she headed? What festered at the root of her exhaustion? How did the knock-on effects of Felix’s assistance play out once she arrived home? Counter-factually, without Felix’s help, Hana would not have made it home in time to prepare that important dinner with her daughter, where exciting news of a first grandchild would be announced– just what Hana’s tattered heart needed. In life, Felix could never have known his brief assistance would prolong the life of this future grandmother long enough to met her grandchild. In death, however, he’ll not only experience Hana’s relief as they crossed that street, but also, have an awareness of those potential branches he prevented, as well as the ones created– the joy this new grandmother felt, holding her precious grandchild for the first time.