Counting, and things other than counting

Car­o­line McCarthy chose exactly the right pic­ture for the occa­sion. I posted the tweet with an ID of 5,000,000,000—not nec­es­sar­ily the five-billionth tweet, but I’ll take the zeroes how­ever I can get ‘em—and it’s got me think­ing about count­ing schemes.

Think of the total arbi­trari­ness of some­thing like the year 2000—and how even under­stand­ing that arbi­trari­ness didn’t make it feel less momen­tous. How totally unmomen­tous it really was in ret­ro­spect. The sense­less power of round-number birthdays—I’m turn­ing 30 this Decem­ber! Thirty what? Units of orbital wisdom?

That, in turn, makes me think—and I’ve linked to this sev­eral times before—of Matt Webb’s sub­lime per­sonal light cone cal­cu­la­tor. He describes it succinctly:

From the moment of my birth, light [that I could have influ­enced] has been expand­ing around the Earth and light [which could influ­ence me, from an increas­ing dis­tance of ori­gin] reach­ing it—this ever-growing sphere of poten­tial causal­ity is my light cone.

I’ve been sub­scribed to my per­sonal light cone RSS feed for a few years now, and I always enjoy see­ing that the pho­tons bounced back by our planet on Decem­ber 19, 1979 have reached a new star. They just passed—literally just yes­ter­day—Beta Comae Berenices.

Even beyond its obvi­ous sci-fi appeal, I appre­ci­ate the light cone’s non-annual nature. Progress doesn’t come at an even pace. Another thing Matt Webb and his col­leagues at BERG do is give evoca­tive code-names to big, chunky phases of their col­lec­tive life, marked by expan­sion or shift­ing focus. The phase they’re in now, they’ve dubbed the Escalante. How cool is that?

Per­sonal epochs are infi­nitely prefer­able to pre­ex­ist­ing schemes. This NYT fea­ture about life phases is charm­ing and well-designed, but let it not go unsaid: It’s also totally oppres­sive. I know, I know, it’s tongue-in-cheek, but even so. These things sneak in.

We mea­sure every­thing these days by, er, mea­sur­ing. It’s all clocks and coun­ters. Even things that don’t func­tion as clocks or coun­ters are tick­ing away inside. My printer is tick­ing away inside. This blog is tick­ing away inside.

Con­trast it all to my lit­tle vir­tual athan, which I’ve still got run­ning. That’s another way of sub­di­vid­ing time, but it seems to me it’s a more sen­si­tive one. Rather than, you know, very sci­en­tif­i­cally count the sec­onds and then cel­e­brate some­thing arbitrary—OMG 12:34:56 P.M.!!—we come up with some­thing arbi­trary to start with and then lay it over the day. More sen­si­tive, and more honest.

What would life be like with­out a clock? I mean, really dili­gently clock-free. Would you be more or less tuned into the sub­jec­tive expe­ri­ence of time? That is, when you’re really jam­ming, really flow­ing in a Csíkszentmihályi-ian sense—without a clock to look up to and go “What the…! Five hours have passed,” is the expe­ri­ence still remark­able? Or does it just feel nor­mal? Maybe the sun just steps in as a sub­sti­tute timepiece—“Heavens, ’tis dusk already!”—and it’s impos­si­ble to be truly clock-free, at least as long as you’re still on this planet, and still have a window.

This is all to say, think about what, and how, you count.

Kappa-1 Ceti, here I come.

6 Responses

    Tim Carmody says:

    You know, I thought about this when you titled your tweet “the PENTAGIGATWEET.” If you were doing it binary, like for RAM, the 5G num­ber would be 5368709120.

    Tim Carmody says:

    Also, I just today read Bertrand Rus­sell, who talks about count­ing in his Intro­duc­tion to Math­e­mat­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy. He points out how you can define count­ing in any way, start­ing from any­where, count­ing from any­where, and it still seems to be inter­nally con­sis­tent. He sees this as a prob­lem with the foun­da­tions of math­e­mat­ics (specif­i­cally Peano’s arith­metic axioms). But I’m actu­ally impressed that the prin­ci­ple of count­ing is so generalizable. 

    Here are two of the alter­na­tive count­ing schemes Rus­sell gives:

    (1) Let “0” be taken to mean 100, and let “num­ber” be taken to mean the num­bers from 100 onward in the series of nat­ural num­bers. Then all our prim­i­tive propo­si­tions are sat­is­fied, even the fourth, for, though 100 is the suc­ces­sor of 99, 99 is not a “num­ber” in the sense which we are now giv­ing to the word “num­ber.” It is obvi­ous that any num­ber may be sub­sti­tuted for 100 in this example.

    (2) Let “0” have its usual mean­ing, but let “num­ber” mean what we usu­ally call “even num­bers,” and let the “suc­ces­sor” of a num­ber be what results from adding two to it. Then “I” will stand for the num­ber two, “2” will stand for the num­ber four, and so on; the series of “num­bers” now will be

    0, two, four, six, eight …

    jon_hansen says:

    I called into my local radio sta­tion recently and won free con­cert tick­ets for being “caller # 12,” but this is obvi­ously much cooler. Con­grat­u­la­tions, I guess :)

    Robin Sloan says:

    Hey, no way! That’s totally bet­ter, b/c I didn’t get any­thing for post­ing tweet #5,000,000,000, other than the excuse to write a blog post.

    kevin. says:

    Well you got CNet to write an arti­cle about you, albeit a fac­tu­ally incor­rect arti­cle — it says the book you are writ­ing is “Mr. Penumbra’s Twenty-Four-Hour Book Store.”

    rAchel says:

    oh oh! they used the photo I took of you! boy, am I proud.

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