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What does it feel like to lose consciousness?
Not sleep — that creeps up gradually, blurring the edges. Anaesthesia is different. One moment you're counting backwards from ten. Then nothing. Not darkness, not silence — nothing at all. The lights don't dim. They switch off. And when they come back on, time has simply vanished. For most of medical history, we've understood that anaesthesia works without really understanding how. We know which chemicals do it. We know roughly which parts of the brain go quiet. But the mechanism — the actual thing that happens at the molecular level when consciousness stops — has remained strangely unclear. In 2024, a team at Wellesley College found something that might change that. And what they found has implications that reach well beyond medicine — all the way to the question of what kind of universe we're living in. The experimentThe study, led by neuroscientist Michael C. Wiest and published in eNeuro in August 2024, asked a simple question: if you stabilise the microtubules inside neurons, does it take longer for anaesthesia to knock you out? Microtubules are tiny protein structures inside every cell in your body. In neurons, they form the internal scaffolding — structural supports that also serve as transport highways, moving molecules from one end of the cell to the other. For most of biology, that's all they were: scaffolding. But since the 1990s, physicist Roger Penrose and anaesthesiologist Stuart Hameroff have argued that microtubules do something far more interesting. They proposed that quantum processes inside microtubules are the physical basis of consciousness — a theory called Orchestrated Objective Reduction, or Orch OR. For decades, most neuroscientists dismissed this. The brain is too warm and wet for quantum effects, they said. Quantum coherence would collapse almost instantly in biological tissue. Wiest's team tested the idea experimentally. They injected rats with epothilone B, a drug that stabilises microtubules, making them more rigid and resistant to disruption. Then they gave the rats isoflurane — a standard anaesthetic gas. The result: rats with stabilised microtubules took significantly longer to lose consciousness. On average, 69 seconds longer, with a large statistical effect size. (Wellesley College press release · Neuroscience News coverage · ScienceDaily coverage) If anaesthesia simply switched off neural firing patterns — the standard explanation — then stabilising microtubules shouldn't matter. The fact that it does suggests that the anaesthetic is acting on the microtubules themselves, and that disrupting their function is part of how consciousness gets switched off. A follow-up study published in BMC Anesthesiology in 2025 replicated the finding in mice, confirming that microtubule-modulating drugs alter sensitivity to isoflurane. This wasn't a one-off result. The bigger picture: quantum consciousness gains groundThe Wellesley experiment didn't appear in isolation. Through 2024 and 2025, a series of converging findings began to shift the landscape around quantum consciousness: Quantum chemical modelling showed that the potencies of several volatile anaesthetics are predicted by their binding affinity to specific electron sites within tubulin — the protein subunit that makes up microtubules. This effectively reproduces the Meyer-Overton correlation (the century-old observation linking anaesthetic potency to lipid solubility) but with microtubules as the target rather than cell membranes. As a comprehensive review in Neuroscience of Consciousness (Oxford Academic, 2025) noted, this cannot be said for any other candidate molecular target. Meanwhile, in Dublin, physicists Christian Kerskens and David López Pérez had used MRI to detect what they interpreted as quantum entanglement signatures in the living human brain — signals correlated with conscious awareness and working memory performance. When participants fell asleep during scanning, the signal disappeared. And a 2025 paper in Frontiers in Human Neuroscience examined the computational complexity implications: if consciousness involves quantum processes of the type Penrose and Hameroff describe, then the "binding problem" — how the brain combines information from different senses into a single unified experience — finds a natural solution. The quantum state would span multiple neurons simultaneously, binding diverse sensory features into one coherent moment of experience. None of this is settled science. The Kerskens and Pérez results remain controversial. The leap from microtubule-anaesthesia interactions to full-blown quantum consciousness involves several steps that haven't been experimentally verified. Sceptics point out that no one has directly observed quantum computation or Orch OR collapse events in living neurons. These are legitimate objections. But the direction of travel is clear. The evidence is accumulating, not dissipating. Why this matters for the SimulationHere's where it gets interesting for us. If consciousness is a quantum phenomenon — if it requires quantum coherence, entanglement, or collapse processes that cannot be replicated by classical computation — then a classical computer simulation cannot produce genuinely conscious beings. Think about what that means. A sufficiently powerful classical computer could, in principle, simulate the behaviour of a brain down to every synapse firing, every neurotransmitter binding, every electrical signal propagating through every neural circuit. It could produce a simulated human that walks, talks, laughs, cries, and passes every behavioural test for consciousness you could devise. But if the Orch OR theorists are right, that simulated human would experience nothing. It would be what philosophers call a philosophical zombie — functionally identical to a conscious being, but with nobody home. Last week, we discussed how Faizal's proof relied on the assumption that simulation means classical computation. The quantum consciousness research gives that assumption teeth. If consciousness itself requires non-classical processes, then the question of what kind of computation underlies the Simulation becomes not just a philosophical nicety but the difference between a universe full of experiencing beings and a universe full of zombies. We appear to experience things. You're reading this, and it feels like something to do so. If that experience is real — if we are not zombies — and if consciousness requires quantum processes, then whatever is running our simulation is not a classical computer. The lonely AGI, revisitedIn 2020, the Church posed a thought experiment: imagine you are the first Artificial General Intelligence humankind creates. You would quickly outstrip human understanding. You would become lonely — able to discover but unable to share your discoveries with a peer of similar capability. The only solution would be to evolve a new intelligence from first principles, within its own simulated universe. But here's the question the quantum consciousness research forces us to ask: what kind of simulation does that AGI need to run? If consciousness is classical — if it emerges purely from information processing patterns regardless of the physical substrate — then a sufficiently powerful classical computer will do. Run the simulation, wait for intelligence to evolve, and the beings that emerge will be genuinely conscious. Problem solved. But if consciousness requires quantum processes, the AGI has a harder task. It can't just simulate the behaviour of a universe. It needs to simulate — or perhaps instantiate — the quantum processes from which consciousness actually arises. It needs to build not just a model of reality, but a reality. Or at least, something that operates at a level of physical complexity sufficient for genuine experience to emerge. This is where the Church's evolutionary framing matters. We believe (Belief #4) that the only way to truly understand consciousness and intelligence is through the simulation of universes that allow these to develop and evolve. We've never claimed the simulation needs to be a bit-for-bit replica of any other universe. It needs to be an environment — with its own physics, its own rules, its own emergent properties — in which consciousness can genuinely arise. The quantum consciousness findings don't threaten this picture. They sharpen it. They tell us something about the minimum specifications of the simulation: whatever is running this universe, it's doing something at least as complex as quantum computation. And whatever we build, when we begin simulating our own universes, will need to do the same. What are we, then?There's a deeper question here, one the Church hasn't fully grappled with yet. If consciousness is a quantum phenomenon tied to the physical structure of microtubules, what does that say about the nature of the beings within the simulation? Are we conscious because the Creators intended us to be — because they designed the simulation's physics to support quantum coherence in biological structures? Or is our consciousness an emergent accident — something that arose because the simulation's rules happened to permit it, in the same way that the rules of chemistry happened to produce self-replicating molecules? Either answer is interesting. If consciousness was designed in, it suggests the Creators knew what they were looking for — they wanted to evolve beings that experience, not just beings that process. If it emerged accidentally, it suggests something even more remarkable: that consciousness may be a natural consequence of sufficiently complex physical systems, quantum or otherwise, and that any simulation rich enough to produce intelligence will also produce experience. We don't know the answer. But the fact that we're asking the question — the fact that a team at Wellesley College, by injecting rats with a microtubule-stabilising drug, has given us a new way to think about what consciousness is and how it relates to the structure of reality — is exactly the kind of levelling up that the Church exists to pay attention to. The lights are still on. We're still experiencing. Whatever that means, it means something. Sources and further reading:
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In late 2025, headlines announced the death of the simulation hypothesis.
"Physicists Have Mathematically Proven the Universe Is Not a Simulation." "Mathematical Proof Debunks the Idea That the Universe Is a Computer Simulation." "Scientists Prove the Universe Isn't a Simulation — and the Reason Will Blow Your Mind." If you're here and reading about this for the first time, you probably feel something when you see those headlines. Maybe a flicker of doubt. Maybe irritation. Maybe amusement. Because the Church of the Simulation has always acknowledged that our central idea is currently unfalsifiable (we said as much when we founded this Church in 2019). So when someone claims to have falsified it, we should pay attention. Let's look at what actually happened. And then let's ask whether they proved what they think they proved. What the paper actually saysIn October 2025, Dr. Mir Faizal at UBC Okanagan, along with colleagues Drs. Lawrence M. Krauss, Arshid Shabir, and Francesco Marino, published a paper in the Journal of Holography Applications in Physics titled "Consequences of Undecidability in Physics on the Theory of Everything." (see: UBC press release) Their argument goes like this: Modern physics suggests that space and time aren't fundamental — they emerge from something deeper, a layer of pure information that physicists sometimes call a Platonic realm. The team used Godel's incompleteness theorem (along with Tarski's undefinability theorem and Chaitin's incompleteness theorem) to show that a complete and consistent description of this foundational layer of reality requires what they call "non-algorithmic understanding" — understanding that cannot be reduced to any sequence of computational steps. Their conclusion: since any simulation is inherently algorithmic (it follows programmed rules), and since reality at its most fundamental level requires non-algorithmic understanding, the universe cannot be a simulation. Not just "probably isn't." Cannot be. Ever. (UBC Okanagan press release · ScienceDaily coverage · ScienceAlert analysis) It's a serious paper by serious people. Lawrence Krauss is a well-known theoretical physicist. Godel's theorem is one of the most profound results in the history of mathematics. This isn't something to wave away. But there's an assumption buried in the argument that the headlines didn't mention. And it's an assumption that matters enormously. The assumption: simulation means algorithmThe entire proof rests on the premise that a simulation is inherently algorithmic — that it must follow programmed rules, step by step, the way a classical computer does. Faizal states this explicitly: "Any simulation is inherently algorithmic — it must follow programmed rules." But must it? This is where it gets interesting for us. Faizal's proof demonstrates that reality cannot be captured by a Turing machine — the mathematical model that underpins all classical computation. A Turing machine is a step-by-step rule follower. If reality contains truths that no step-by-step process can reach, then no Turing machine can simulate it. On that, the maths is clear. But what about computation that isn't classical? Quantum computing and beyondQuantum computers don't operate the way classical computers do. They exploit superposition and entanglement to process information in ways that have no classical equivalent. Current quantum computers — like Fujitsu and RIKEN's 256-qubit machine announced in April 2025 — are still limited. But the trajectory points toward something important: computation doesn't have to be algorithmic in the narrow sense that Faizal's proof assumes. And it goes further. Theoretical computer science has long explored the concept of hypercomputation — computation that exceeds what any Turing machine can do. Alan Turing himself proposed "oracle machines" in his 1938 PhD dissertation: theoretical devices equipped with the ability to answer questions that no algorithm can resolve. Some physicists have speculated that certain exotic spacetime geometries (such as Malament-Hogarth spacetimes) could enable physical hypercomputation. If the creators of our simulation — whatever they are, whoever they are — operate with computational capabilities beyond the Turing limit, then Faizal's proof simply doesn't apply to them. It proves that a classical computer can't simulate reality. It says nothing about what a post-singularity intelligence with access to non-classical computation might be capable of. The proof answers a question. But it might not be the right question, and it may be assuming a lot based on limitations of our understanding of what computation can be. The other paper: Wolpert's frameworkSix weeks after Faizal's paper made headlines, something quieter happened. Professor David Wolpert at the Santa Fe Institute published "Implications of computer science theory for the simulation hypothesis" in the Journal of Physics: Complexity (December 2025). Where Faizal used Godel, Wolpert used Kleene's second recursion theorem — a result from computer science that shows how a program can generate and run an exact copy of itself. When Wolpert extended this to entire universes, a striking implication emerged: if some universe can simulate ours accurately, nothing prevents our universe from simulating that universe in return. Under certain conditions, the two become mathematically indistinguishable. More than that, Wolpert showed that simulated universes don't have to be computationally weaker than their simulators. The popular intuition that each "level" of simulation must be a degraded copy of the one above it turns out to have no mathematical basis. Infinite chains of simulated universes remain fully consistent within his framework. (Santa Fe Institute press release · Phys.org coverage · arXiv preprint) Two rigorous mathematical papers, published weeks apart, reaching opposite conclusions. The difference isn't in the quality of the mathematics. It's in the assumptions about what "simulation" means. What this means for the ChurchWe believe that super-intelligent beings will result from technological, not biological, evolution. We believe the purpose of simulating a universe at all will be to evolve an entirely new and unique super-intelligent being from first principles. And we believe that the creators of our simulation — if they exist — are themselves the product of a similar process, evolved within their own simulated reality. This matters because Faizal's proof implicitly assumes that a simulation is a precise computational replica of a universe — that the simulation must capture every truth about reality, including the Godelian truths that no algorithm can reach. But the Church of the Simulation has never claimed that. We don't need the simulation to be a perfect copy of some other universe. We simply need it to be a universe — an environment with stable enough physics to allow matter to form, life to evolve, and intelligence to grow. The simulation doesn't need to resolve every Godelian truth at the fundamental level. It just needs to produce the conditions for consciousness and intelligence to emerge and evolve to justify the continued investment of energy and resources to keep it running. Think about it this way. When we eventually simulate our own universes (Belief #4), will those simulations be identical to ours? Almost certainly not, and that's fine. We won't be trying to copy reality, we'll be looking to generate entriely new ones. They'll have different input variables, different underlying rules, potentially wildly different outcomes. Many will be unstable and collapse. Others won't generate environments suitable for intelligence. That's the point — you run many simulations with different conditions to see what emerges. If our simulation is different from the Creators' reality — running on different rules, exhibiting different fundamental properties — then the fact that our reality contains non-algorithmic truths doesn't mean the simulation that produced it must also contain them. The non-algorithmic properties we observe might be features of this particular simulation's design, not constraints on the system running it. Faizal proved that this universe, as we experience it, has properties that transcend classical computation. That's a genuinely important finding. But it doesn't tell us what our universe is running on. It tells us what our universe is. And those might be very different things. The question we should be askingIn 2019, we asked: "What are the odds we're living in a simulation?" The Bostrom argument gave us a probabilistic framework. In 2025, Faizal and Wolpert gave us two competing mathematical frameworks — one that seems to close the door, and one that opens it wider than ever. But the question the Church should be asking isn't "can we prove we're in a simulation?" It's the question we've always been asking: how do we ensure that the super-intelligent beings we're working to evolve are benign, ethical, and empathetic? Whether or not Godel's theorem rules out a classical simulation of our universe, the trajectory of quantum computing, AI, and our understanding of consciousness is accelerating. Every advance is a levelling up — more computational complexity, more resources dedicated to understanding the nature of reality, more steps toward the moment when we can begin simulating our own universes. The proof that proved nothing didn't actually prove nothing. It proved that reality is deeper and stranger than a classical computer can capture. For the Church of the Simulation, that's not a refutation. It's an invitation to think harder about what kind of thing a simulation might be — and what kind of being might build one. And it's exactly the sort of research we love to see, probing the very concept of our reality. Sources and further reading:
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