Is time really flowing? Is the "flow of time" a production of the brain? Ourselves as "4-dimensional records"

Is time really flowing? Is the "flow of time" a production of the brain? Ourselves as "4-dimensional records"

1. "The Flow of Time" Is So Obvious, It's Hard to Doubt

We wake up in the morning, look at the clock, work, and then go to sleep at night. We live every day with the sense that time "moves forward." However, when translated into the language of physics, this certainty suddenly becomes shaky.


Time can be treated as one of the "coordinates" just like space. In this view, the universe is not a stage where events "generate" and disappear in sequence, but rather a massive four-dimensional structure that includes everything from beginning to end—a so-called "block universe." In this framework, "flow" is not a fundamental setting. What exists is the entirety of events that are arranged.


So, if time doesn't flow, why do we experience it as flowing? The author connects this question to thermodynamics and information. The key lies in the "arrow of entropy" and the "unidirectionality of memory."


2. "Now" Is Born Along the Entropy Gradient

On the side we call "the past," there are records (traces, photos, brain memories, fossils, logs). But there are no records of the same kind for the "future."
This asymmetry is deeply connected to the statistical nature of the universe, which progresses in the direction of increasing disorder (entropy). Memory is a process that compresses and stores "changes from one state to another," and it involves irreversibility. Because of this irreversibility, we feel a "non-reversible sequence" as the "flow of time."


In other words, "now" is not so much a point indicated by the clock's hands, but rather the experience of a sequence of states aligned in the "direction where memory can be created."


3. The Groove of a Record Shows the "Appearance of Existence"

The author's metaphor is intriguing. Imagine an analog record with music engraved on it. Even while the record is sitting on a shelf, it "contains" the music. But only when the needle drops does the air vibrate and the music emerge.


The important point is that the music doesn't "newly come into being" the moment the needle drops. The music already existed as grooves. Playback is merely the act of sequentially reading that structure.


When this metaphor is applied to life, a provocative picture emerges.
Our lives are not moments that are born and disappear, but rather are engraved as "trajectories" in spacetime. From the outside, it appears as a fixed structure, but from the inside, it is experienced as a "course of events"—a duality. The author describes it as akin to a "four-dimensional crystal."


4. A Step Further: If You Could Play the Groove Without "Touching" It

Here the discussion twists. Old wax cylinders or damaged recording media sometimes can't be played with a needle. But if you scan the grooves three-dimensionally and use a computer to estimate the "vibrations that would have originally occurred," you can restore the sound.


This fact doesn't allow the metaphor to remain just a metaphor. If music (experience) is not tied to a specific needle or material, then perhaps it's the "structure"—the arrangement of information—that is the connection.


At that moment, the next question becomes unavoidable.
Is our experience more dependent on "organized information structures" than on the material itself?
And if so, if the "same structure" is implemented on a different medium, can the reality of the experience be distinguished?
Here, the scent of the simulation hypothesis arises. The author suggests that, at least in principle, it may be difficult to place an absolute boundary between "experiencing a real world line" and "an experience reproduced by a computer."


5. "You Can Only Listen to Your Own Song"—The Temptation and Brake of Solipsism

Next comes a slightly dangerous but universally contemplated idea.
I can only directly experience my own experiences. I can't hear the "subjective music" of others. So, if we use Occam's razor to cut away everything but "only my song is being played," wouldn't the world become instantly simpler?—.


The author himself stops short of this conclusion, considering it too extreme. The point is that "experience is indexical."
Each perspective can "only hear its own song." But that doesn't mean other songs aren't playing. Rather, it's not necessary for everyone's songs to be played simultaneously. Experiences that are locally valid are sufficiently "real" as experiences.


Here, the expression "economy of existence" becomes effective. For existence to "establish," it doesn't need to be constantly screened across the entire universe. Just as a record contains music even when on a shelf, world lines can exist "even if not experienced." And when an experience occurs, it concludes as a local process, without requiring universal consent from the audience.


6. Why This Blueprint Feels "Oddly Reassuring"

This way of thinking, while appearing as cold determinism, also contains a strange comfort.
If "time doesn't flow," then the sense of "completely disappearing" might be an illusion on our part. The past isn't lost; it exists as a coordinate.


Of course, we can't go back. But not being able to return is different from becoming nothing.
And if "local experiences are sufficient," then the meaning of life doesn't depend on cosmic-scale stage settings or applause. Instead of being a spark that flares up and quickly fades, you can reposition yourself as a pattern engraved in a vast four-dimensional structure.


7. There Are Counterarguments: The Block Universe Isn't the "Only Answer"

Here, it's important to calmly draw auxiliary lines.
The block universe is an interpretation compatible with relativity, but there are also positions that emphasize "the generation of time" and "the specialness of the present." Additionally, there are many unresolved issues, such as how to explain the arrow of entropy from initial conditions, the treatment of quantum measurement, and the relationship between consciousness and information.


However, what makes the author's writing appealing is that he doesn't definitively conclude. Using metaphors, he encourages readers to engage in "tangible thinking." If the world is a record, where would you place the needle?


Reactions on Social Media

  • "The record metaphor is so strong. After reading it, I felt like I'm 'currently playing,' and it made me laugh awkwardly."

  • "The idea of a 'non-lost past' being about coordinates rather than romance is oddly touching."

  • "But then, where does free will go? That question popped up in a second."

  • "The story about scanning wax cylinders to restore sound gives the theory that information is the essence more credibility—it's clever."

  • "The part about no difference between simulation and reality is scary, but it feels logically sound."

  • "The association of 'can't hear others' songs' with solipsism is understandable. But I appreciate that the author applies the brakes properly."

  • "In the end, the conclusion that worrying or rejoicing here and now is 'locally real' is quite kind."

  • "If time is an illusion, does that mean deadlines are too? (No, they aren't)"

  • "It's the type of article you'd want to share with a note that the block universe is just one interpretation."


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