K’12 Ink & watercolour sketch. Ceci n’est pas un chat.

I’ve always been fascinated by the gaps.

You know, there’s a blind spot,bang in the middle of your field of vision, but you don’t see a blank there, your brain covers it up. And you only see colour in a very small part of the picture, just where you’re focussing; the rest is gray. But your brain colours it in, or just lets you believe it’s in colour.

We only experience very small bits of the world, and extrapolate the rest. I  only  see  this  corner  now, but I imagine the rest of the room will be there  when  I  turn  around.  I can hear the cat in the kitchen. Rather, I hear noises,  and  I  think  it’s  the  cat in what I remember as the kitchen. I assume that if I get up, I’ll find the kitchen, and probably even the cat – but do I really know that?

What if the world is only what we perceive? What if things come into existence as we approach them, and are erased when we turn around or walk away? Maybe we live in a small bubble of reality we carry around with us.

I have to accept I can only check whether reality lives up to my expectation. If the kitchen is there when I go fetch a drink, I suppose it’s enough. I do worry about the cat, though…

Sorry, I know this must sound strange to you. But life isn’t easy when you live in a computer simulation.

* * *

My second attempt at answering T.Mastgrave’s philosophical story challenge: Knowledge.

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I like blue.

4 thoughts on “WYSIWYG”

  1. I love this! You both present the challenge and the subject, and then you also add in a question of reality at the end. This is great!
    P.S. I worry about the cat too.

    1. Thanks. I’m so glad you like it. I guess these philosophical issues need a few more words.
      P.S. As another commenter pointed out, the cat probably carries around its own bubble of feline reality, so maybe there’s no need to worry ;-).

  2. It is good of you to worry about the cat. I am sure that, somehow, it does carry around its own whiskered bubble of feline reality, which may be much better than ours–it’d take something really good to get me to sit around and lick myself all day, every day, every day.

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