I’ve resolved to produce a novel by the end of the year, and it can be helpful to announce your goal to increase the pressure to actually fulfill it. I know I’m not the only potential author suffering that one-two punch of self-doubt and perfectionism so don’t be afraid to poke me in the comments if it looks like I’m slacking.

There is a particular idea I wish to explore, elucidated in such books as The Revolutionary Phenotype and The Intelligent Universe. The main upshot of it is, the Copernican principle suggests that we are not necessarily special in time and space, yet the universe itself seems peculiarly dialed very carefully to eventually produce creatures like us. So what if the grand human drama was just one of many flashes of turbulence on the long road toward whatever this cosmos was designed to make? What is our place in it? To be food for whatever surpasses us in some kind of Lovecraftian nightmare that ends in transcendent AI? Or is there something more noble in store? And do we have any chance at shaping it?

I hope interested parties can add their insights in the comments. We are going to have fun.


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