Inspired by Nick Bostrom’s simulation hypothesis, Economist Robert Hanson wrote a brief and fascinating article, in which teaches us how to live in a simulation. Here, he offers some advice about how one should live considering the world we inhabit might be a kind of advanced computer program.

Early on, he suggests that if we’re like the characters in The Matrix, The 13th Floor, or Dark City, we might be able to discover “clues” that we’re in a simulated universe. These, presumably, would be left by coders in the realms above, our (hopefully) benevolent programmers, who are observing our behavior. If we find hints from advanced beings, we ought to analyze them closely “to see what they say about how we should live our lives.”

But what if there are no clues? Let’s say we accept the possibility that we live in a simulation. According to Bostrom’s logic, if those in “posthuman” civilization end up creating simulations of their forebears, our being in one (and not the real world) isn’t merely a possibility, but a near certainty. If we live in a simulation but can’t prove it, and we can’t find any hint about those who simulated us or why they did it, one might assume that this ought to have no bearing on our conduct. But Robin Hanson disagrees:

[M]any observers have assumed that no implications follow from the mere possibility that we might live in a simulation.

This is not quite right, however. In general, your decisions should be based on a weighted average over the different possible worlds you might live in. If you assign a non-zero subjective probability to the possibility that your descendants will create sophisticated simulations which include people (real or simulated) like us ignorant of their status, then you should assign a non-zero subjective probability to the possibility that you now live in such a simulation. So to the extent that there are consequences of your actions which are different in a simulated world, and you care about these consequences, a non-zero probability of simulation should influence your decisions. The higher the probability you live in a simulation, the more influence that possibility should have on your decision.

For Hanson, if we think there’s a slim chance that we live in a simulation, then we should only alter our behavior a little bit. And if we’re almost sure of it, then we should live accordingly.

And if you had an unshakeable hunch that the whole of your experience was ones and zeroes, that nothing you encountered, even yourself, was “real” in the way we understand the term, how should you behave?

A Blueprint for Living in a Simulation

In order to know the best course of action, it would be helpful to “guess at the kind of historical simulations our descendants may create.” In the absence of clues, Hanson elects to “primarily reason by analogy from the kinds of simulations people now like to create, and their reasons for creating them. ” It won’t be perfect, of course (it might not even be close). But in light of the possibility that all we know is digital artifice, it does provide basis on which to reevaluate our conduct. Hanson calls it “a rough guide to action.”

Hanson imagines that our descendants behave a bit differently than Bostrom’s “posthumans.” (My analysis of Bostrom’s article can be found here.) For the former, some of these simulations may indeed be historical reproductions for academic purposes, striving for accuracy in order to understand the past. These dry exercises might, if our distant offspring are anything like us, be in the minority, and most simulations “will be created for their story-telling and entertainment value. For example, someone might ask their ‘holodeck’ to let them play a famous movie actor at a party at the turn of the millennium.”

Let us imagine, briefly, that we’re denizens of the dorkier simulations, that everything in our world has been engineered to resemble the early 21st century as exactly as possible. In this case, “the only decision implications are for those who care about influencing ‘real’ history, or care about being thought of well by ‘real’ people.” This would be far trickier than getting the attention of our fellow NPCs—assuming that no one we interact with is being “played” (possessed?) by someone in the real world. If we live solely among simulations, the only way to influence flesh-and-blood humans “is to somehow influence whoever is observing this simulation.”

Unlike Bostrom, Hanson imagines a future where simulating a fully detailed picture of the past would be “enormously costly.” Simulations, especially those fashioned for amusement, might be more limited in scope.

Hanson imagines one of these simulations as “a party at the turn of the millennium.” If it’s only programmed to last a single night, and only those in the building are designed with sufficient detail to possess human-like consciousness, there might be fatal consequences to the simulated partygoers if the human participant decided to go on a night walk. These poor NPCs might be liquidated to save RAM, and replaced by sentient pedestrians. If one of the simulated partygoers became aware of their dilemma, their priorities would undergo a radical shift:

If you knew that you were a simulated person in this party simulation, and you wanted to live as long as possible, you might want to discourage anyone from leaving the party. If the simulation might end early were the future guest to become bored, you might also want to make sure everyone had a good time. And your motivation to save for retirement, or to help the poor in Ethiopia, might be muted by realizing that in your simulation you will never retire and there is no Ethiopia.

If we believe we’re living in a simulation, we should tailor our behavior to what we assume our creators want. We can assume that most of these simulations don’t last for the whole course of human history, and if we think we’re in one that lasts for a very limited time, we don’t need to worry about planting trees in whose shade we’ll never sit. We should place the bulk (or all) of our care on ourselves and those closest to us.

Maybe we’re in a simulation where only a few of us have human-like consciousness. The masses might “be run by very simple programs that have them wiggle and mumble ‘peas and carrots’ like extras supposedly did once in movie crowd scenes.” In this case, it doesn’t much matter how we behave toward such nonentities, and we shouldn’t allow ourselves to care about them.

What if our simulators want our world to look like the one their ancestors inhabited? Well, “since their history eventually resulted in very rich and powerful descendants, […] you want the world you live in to look like that will happen.” They did well enough, after all, to create us.

Perhaps they’re interested in reproducing major historical events and figures. In this case, you should cozy up to the most important people of your day, or navigate centers of power in order to become a bigshot yourself. After all, Hanson writes, “If you can identify an especially interesting event around you, you might also try to prevent it from ending, as the simulation might end soon after the event does.”

If our simulators want to be entertained, you’d better not bore them. But here you’ll be faced with a dilemma, much what was amusing even a few decades ago is considered corny or offensive now:

Of course what is regarded as entertaining does vary somewhat across time and cultures, and our distant descendants’ tastes will likely vary from ours as well. So one should emphasize widely shared features of entertaining stories. Be funny, outrageous, violent, sexy, strange, pathetic, heroic, … in a word “dramatic.”

Assume that some of those who walk among us are real people from the future, inhabiting simulated bodies. In such a case, it’s likely that they would want to be people of significance. If these simulations are engineered to delight them, one can safely assume that a simulation could be terminated if it doesn’t serve this purpose. If you’re one of the folks in a world like this, “you should take care to keep famous people happy, or at least interested.”

Hanson concludes the article as follows:

If you might be living in a simulation then all else equal it seems that you should care less about others, live more for today, make your world look likely to become eventually rich, expect to and try to participate in pivotal events, be entertaining and praiseworthy, and keep the famous people around you happy and interested in you.

By Their Fruit

Hanson’s speculations are as reasonable as they are telling. Indeed, if our descendants are anything like us, they are vicious. That someone with human impulses and flaws might gain godlike authority over sentient beings, the power to save and destroy, the power to dissolve the cosmos with a click, is a terrifying thought.

And because they have not spoken to us, because, despite how carefully we search for the clues they may never have deigned to leave, we cannot divine their purposes, we are reduced to guesswork.

But if we let the belief that we live in a simulated universe guide our actions, it is a poor substitute for true religion. Indeed, it would lead to the corrosion of the soul.

If most of our contemporaries are NPCs mumbling “peas and carrots” out of earshot, then hurting our neighbor wouldn’t be any more wicked than beating a hooker to death in Grand Theft Auto. Indeed, it would likely be more fun—the graphics in our simulation are far better.

If our very lives depend on being “interesting” to our simulators, keeping them laughing or moved or fascinated by our behavior, then the cultivation of vanity would be necessary for self-preservation. And if those who lived longest before being unplugged were the parasites and sycophants in celebrity entourages, it would be one’s duty to develop a Machiavellian sense of cunning.

If we are, in fact, in a simulation, such conduct might allow us to live a bit longer and more fully than our neighbors, but at what cost? It sounds like a miserable life.

And, if we’re not in a simulation, it may well be a damnable one.

If Hanson is right, many of these simulations run on an attention economy. Our descendants have created a wicked world, one that rewards the appetitive principal, and punishes temperance and reason.

While we can’t know what kind of simulation we’re in (or whether we’re in one at all), we can say objectively that the programmer of the entertainment simulations Hanson outlines must be a degenerate person, and likely the product of a decadent society. If it is indeed possible “to somehow influence whoever is observing this simulation,” one ought to lead by example, whatever the cost.

“Unplug me if you want, you futuristic neckbeard,” we might say, defiantly beating our simulated chest, “but I’m not going to become a douchebag to keep you engaged.”

I don’t think we live in a simulation. It is, of course, nothing that I can prove rationally—the claim, either for or against our currently inhabiting a simulation, seems non-falsifiable, at least if our programmers leave no clues.

But I believe Someone has left clues. Appeasing our futuristic overlords will leave one with a restless heart; and our hearts, to paraphrase Augustine, can only find true rest in the God from whom goodness, beauty, and truth come.

Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, offers advice on how to live that is far more conducive to human flourishing:

Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he existed in the form of God,
    did not regard equality with God
    as something to be grasped,
but emptied himself,
    taking the form of a slave,
    assuming human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a human,
    he humbled himself
    and became obedient to the point of death—
    even death on a cross.

Therefore God exalted him even more highly
    and gave him the name
    that is above every other name,
so that at the name given to Jesus
    every knee should bend,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
    that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.