Showing results by narrator "I.V. Whitlock" in All Categories

For a century we have been told two contradictory things about information. The first is that the universe is secretly made of it—that beneath the atoms there are only bits, that reality is at bottom a kind of code. The second is that "information physics" is fashionable hand-waving, a buzzword dressed up as a discipline. Both verdicts miss what is actually the case, and the truth is stranger and simpler than either. Information is not a substance the world is built from.

You are not imagining it. The years really are getting shorter. Not on any clock, not on any calendar — but inside the three pounds of tissue between your ears, something has changed. The summers that once stretched into lazy eternities now collapse into a long weekend. A decade vanishes like a coin in a magician's hand. And the unsettling sense that you are being robbed of time — that life is accelerating toward some finish line you never agreed to approach — is shared by nearly everyone who has lived long enough to notice it.