Science Fiction, Immortality & The Search for Meaning - II

 

If consciousness were immortal, would the narratives of our existence change?

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Following on the previous post, I did go ahead and gave ChatGPT the following prompt: Survey sci-fi literature where the theme is immortality and summarize how consciousness in such a world navigates immortality. Below is the response provided by the ChatGPT about notable science fiction works where immortality is central. The summary from each explores how characters and societies grapple with eternal life.

ChatGPT’s Response

1. The Immortal by Jorge Luis Borges (1947)
 In this philosophical tale, a Roman soldier discovers a river that grants immortality. Over the centuries, he learns that eternal life leads not to glory but to apathy and meaninglessness. Immortality dulls experience and memory, leaving the once-vibrant pursuit of knowledge hollow. Ultimately, the narrator renounces immortality, choosing to live as a mortal again, suggesting that death gives life significance.

The narrative explores immortality as a curse. Without the prospect of death, of a finite lifetime, desire, purpose, and identity erode, leaving life monotonous and devoid of meaning. On the other hand, living with the knowledge of having a finite lifetime, we end up trying to comprehend the meaning of it all.

2. The City and the Stars by Arthur C. Clarke (1956)
 In the city of Diaspar, humans are immortal, living in a utopia governed by machines. Minds are stored and reincarnated over eons, yet society has become stagnant, fearful of change and the unknown. The protagonist, Alvin, longs for novelty and ventures beyond, discovering forgotten histories and alien contact. Immortality is portrayed as a stifling sameness that can only be escaped through curiosity.

The story portrays immortality as intellectual and cultural stagnation, relieved only by rare individuals who dare to embrace change and rediscovery.

3. Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan (2002)
 Human consciousness can be stored digitally and transferred between bodies (“sleeves”). The wealthy achieve practical immortality, but the soul’s continuity becomes ambiguous. Over time, the ultra-rich become detached, sociopathic, and unaccountable. Immortality is class-bound and ethically corrosive. Protagonist Takeshi Kovacs navigates a brutal world where life is cheap, and death, for some, is no longer a limit.

The narrative critiques how technological immortality can have a dark side and a source of inequality and moral decay, questioning whether eternal life devalues human experience.

4. The Postmortal by Drew Magary (2011)
 A cure for aging is discovered, leading to widespread societal collapse. Overpopulation, strained resources, and the stagnation of culture and relationships ensue. Governments eventually regulate death and reproduction. The protagonist chronicles his descent into nihilism. The novel suggests that the natural lifecycle provides societal and personal balance.

The narrative envisions immortality as catastrophic for society, where eternal youth lead not to utopia but to breakdown, regulation, and loss of meaning. Of course, the natural side effect of immortality is its consequence for reproduction that cannot be sustained in a resource limited environment. Also, without death and reproduction, the process of natural selection stalls.

5. Tau Zero by Poul Anderson (1970)
 While not about biological immortality, the novel deals with relativistic time dilation, effectively making the crew immortal relative to the universe. Trapped on a ship approaching light speed, they outlive the universe’s death and rebirth. Their struggle is existential: how to maintain purpose when time becomes meaningless. They ultimately find renewal in cosmic rebirth.

Immortality in this narrative is cosmological, highlighting the importance of purpose and adaptability when confronting eternal horizons.

6. Old Man’s War by John Scalzi (2005)
 Elderly humans enlist in the military and are given genetically enhanced young bodies, essentially restarting life. While not strictly immortal, it explores extended life and identity shifts. Some begin to question the ethics and consequences of trading mortality for strength and war. Memory and connection to one’s past life are lost.

The narrative examines rejuvenation as both a gift and a loss, raising questions about continuity of self, ethics, and the cost of escaping death.

7. Tithonus by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Poem, 1860)
 While not a novel, it deeply influenced sci-fi themes. Tithonus is granted immortality without eternal youth. He wastes away eternally, lamenting that he cannot die. This classic myth encapsulates the horror of immortality without renewal.

In this poem, immortality without youth becomes a punishment. Tennyson’s Tithonus foreshadows sci-fi’s treatment of eternal life as tragic when unbalanced.

8. Diaspora by Greg Egan (1997)
 Humans evolve into post-biological forms, uploading consciousness into virtual “polises.” Immortality becomes the norm, and identity is fluid. Yet even here, the narrative confronts the limits of existence: entropy, meaning, and isolation. Egan treats immortality as a vast intellectual frontier but never free of existential peril.

In this narrative digital immortality is an intellectual liberation, yet still bound by fundamental existential limits like entropy and loneliness.

9. The Dancers at the End of Time by Michael Moorcock (1974)
 Set in a far future where godlike humans manipulate time and matter, life is an endless decadent playground. Without death, consequence, or need, morality dissolves. A time traveler from the past introduces emotion, love, and conflict, disrupting the static eternity.

This narrative satirizes immortality as hedonistic boredom, where only the reintroduction of limits can restore passion and meaning.

10. The Boat of a Million Years by Poul Anderson (1989)
 Immortal humans scattered across history try to find meaning and connect. They experience isolation, loss, and a slow evolution toward greater understanding. Eventually, they unite and help lead humanity into space. Immortality becomes a means of wisdom rather than power.

Here, the story presents immortality as a slow, often painful path to maturity, connection, and stewardship of humanity’s future. While the early parts of the story focus on loneliness and alienation, the novel evolves into a surprisingly optimistic vision. The immortals eventually find each other and form a kind of community. With centuries of experience, they guide humanity toward a spacefaring future. Immortality becomes a means of patient stewardship, not power.

The next prompt to ChatGPT was “What would be ratio of sci-fi narrative in which immortality has negative connotations compared to positive ones.”. Below is the response.

ChatGPT’s Response

The ratio of negative to positive portrayals of immortality in science fiction is heavily skewed toward the negative — roughly 4:1 or even 5:1, depending on how strictly one defines the genre and scope. Here’s a breakdown of why that is and what it looks like:

Negative Portrayals (~80%)

In the vast majority of sci-fi stories, immortality is a cautionary tale, emphasizing:

• Loss of meaning or purpose
• Stagnation and decadence
• Ethical decay or social inequality
• Psychological tolls such as loneliness, detachment, or madness
• Overpopulation and ecological collapse

Positive or Nuanced Portrayals (~20%)

These narratives emphasize:

• Human adaptability and curiosity
• The possibility of eternal exploration
• The role of death as a choice, not a limit

If the ratio is indeed true, there could be several reasons for it.

• Dystopian stories allow for a wider range of narratives. After all, what interesting story one can write about utopia?
• The authors are projecting what they are familiar with — the negatively and insanity, search for meaning — humanity is always engaged in. Life with the prospects of immortality extends current experiences into a different setting.

Epilogue

Living in a universe devoid of inherent meaning, we possess a consciousness uniquely capable of questioning the meaning of its own existence. The knowledge of death can unsettle our belief in any larger narrative behind our actions. Death’s inevitability forces us to weigh the significance of one pursuit over another — playing Pickleball instead of studying Mahayana Buddhism — should I choose one over the other, and why?

In our ongoing search for meaning — if only to steady our journey — it is natural to wonder: if consciousness were immortal, would the narratives of our existence change?

Science fiction explores this question through speculative visions of immortal worlds, yet these narratives often remain fraught with conflict: boredom, stagnation, and a loss of purpose. Perhaps we are merely projecting familiar fears onto these imagined realms. Or perhaps such outcomes are intrinsic to consciousness itself — an inescapable pattern woven into the fabric of awareness, forever prompting a search for meaning. The specifics of the narrative may shift with settings, but the existential thread endures, bound by a deeper inevitability at the heart of sentient life.

It was fun to interact with ChatGPT on this though

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

 

"I grieve for myself...

...and for the life I used to have.”

The words appeared beneath a photograph in The New York Times, telling of a woman in Gaza who had lost her parents to war and now carried a scar etched across her face—a permanent reminder of an explosion that rewrote her life. That single sentence spoke of a world shattered beyond recognition, a life that might once have known the quiet grace of sitting beneath a hundred-year-old olive tree, reading a book of verse. But that scene will never be painted.

Those words traveled across oceans and found their way to the gates of our quiet 55+ community, where we do our best to shield ourselves from the cruelties of war, from hunger, from the harsh edges of humanity. We manicure gardens, play cards, and cling to the illusion that life, here, will remain untouched.

For a few moments, we will grieve for her and the countless others whose lives were dismantled simply because they were born in the wrong fragment of space and time. Yet, if we are honest, our grief is weightless. It offers no consolation. Our thoughts cannot cross the seas to become the balm their wounds cry out for.

And so, we continue to live in our cocoons. We seek shelter. But what walls can keep out the quiet inevitability that shadows us all—aging, frailty, mortality? Perhaps the greater tragedy is not that cruelty stalks the earth, but that we might arrive at life’s final threshold burdened by the same haunting refrain:

“I grieve for myself and for the life I had.”

Not because war or famine stole it from us, but because we lived as if time were infinite. Because we mistook comfort for meaning. Because, in the end, our lives were small, they were inconsequential when they could have been vast, expansive, and perhaps, alive.

Science Fiction, Immortality & The Search for Meaning

 

Perhaps the search for meaning is never bound to mortality, but to the nature of consciousness itself.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: Unbearable Boredom of Immortal Beings

Summary: Humanity has long grappled with mortality and the quest for meaning. Through science fiction, thought experiments can explore immortal life and its unintended consequences. Would eternal life diminish the search for meaning and purpose, or would different meanings emerge? Speculative fiction can explore the question whether consciousness, mortal or immortal, is cursed or blessed with searching for meaning and purpose of its own existence.

Since gaining consciousness, humanity may have always grappled with the prospect of mortality. The uncertainty of what lies beyond — the fate of our experiences and achievements after we die — has been deeply unsettling. Awareness of death inevitably calls into question the significance of our actions while we live, leading us on a journey to search for life’s meaning, and larger picture behind the purpose of our actions. This contemplation often brings forth a desire for an alternative: eternal life. However, in longing for such an existence, we have no way of foreseeing unintended consequences eternal life may have.

Is there a way to imagine how immortal life would be? Would it still search for the meaning and purpose of its existence, its consciousness?

Through the storytelling and imaginative power of science fiction, one can conduct thought experiments and explore tantalizing questions: If death were no longer inevitable, how would it shape our sense of urgency to achieve, to build a legacy? If existence stretched unbroken across time, free from its natural end, would our pursuit of meaning still persist? Or the question of meaning of something that never ends would itself become absurd?

Science fiction is a genre of speculation — an imaginative lens through which one can explore human possibilities and limitations, an immortal life being one. It is suited to tackle the philosophical inquiry surrounding immortality through storytelling and narratives. Whether depicting eternal beings, post-human ascensions, or technologies that stave off death, sci-fi is positioned to ask question like: Does the finite nature of life create an intrinsic urge to pursue meaning and purpose, or would an infinite existence diminish that drive; or perhaps it would give rise to something beyond our current level of understanding and comprehension?

I am not a reader of sci-fi genre, but I am sure many of these questions have been explored as part of the speculative fiction. I can imagine that in many science fiction stories, immortality is not painted as an endless utopia but as a curse. A narrative about life without end may bring a sense of loneliness, loss, and the erosion of meaning itself. This might be particularly true in a narrative of a few  immortals living among mortals, and life is filled with the loneliness of loved ones passing away.

In stories, however, one can easily change the narrative and can ask — what if everyone was immortal?

If everyone is immortal, perhaps immortality itself would become malleable. One can envision stories where an underlying theme could be devising the ways to stave off boredom that could result from endless repetitions. If eternity proved too burdensome, civilizations might voluntarily opt for constraints to rediscover the richness of experience. For example, eternal beings would choose to limit life on their own volition. Such limits may not necessarily be death, but cycles of (virtual) rebirth by memory erasures and starting over (Note — if we think of it, this option is not that different from the Buddhist notion of reincarnation — we are born over and over again, each time with a fresh start and with memory of past erased). In fact, there might be many more ways to segment an eternal life into a fresh start than to change a finite existence into an immortal one.

Science fiction could speculate answers to the question whether being immortal will still be associated with our desire to search for meaning; speculating about different possible answers is an interesting exercise in its own way. Perhaps the search for meaning is never bound to mortality. No matter wherever consciousness evolves — within mortal or immortal beings — it will have the capacity for curiosity and power for asking questions, and it will always search for the meaning and purpose for its own existence.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Note: Perhaps I will ask ChatGPT or CoPilot to provide me with a summary of different sci-fi narratives that have dealt with the question of immortality and ways such beings confront their immortality. It would be fun exercise to see what human imagination is capable of.

Beware of Consequences of Asking Why

The rainbow 🌈 touched the pot of gold—
somewhere to my left,
beyond raindrop-laden leaves,
trembling on the trees.
It all felt magical.

But then I asked—why?
Why is it so magical?

I asked why—
perhaps because I was growing older,
and death felt nearer.
Or because I’d slipped
into that annoying habit children have—
asking why,
to unravel.

Or maybe the day itself
had turned inward,
caught in gale-force winds
of existential reckoning—
stripping everything in its path
down to the bare bones of essence.

Asking why—
broke the magic—
just as it had broken
on a day long past,
when the Murano vase,
the one you had brought home from Venice,
and were very careful unwrapping,
slipped from my fingers.

Its delicate glass—
shattered across the floor,
and in the fragments,
the overhead lamp scattered itself
into a thousand reflections.

In those reflections,
I first glimpsed a universal truth:
permanence is a myth—
it is no more real
than the pot of gold
at the end of a rainbow.

Watching those thousand reflections,
I had also wondered—
why it is so?

 

Capitol Games: Where Principles Compete to Die (II)

Continuation of a satire on U.S. politics: where elected “athletes” trade principles for power in a surreal decathlon of groveling and ideological gymnastics.

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies.” — Groucho Marx

Arun Kumar

Last week I had posted the scoop about “Capitol Games: Where Principles Compete to Die.” In there, I had mentioned four games that are played in the marbled rotunda of the Capitol — The 400-Meter Dash to Indignity; The Ideological Shotput; The Kneel Relay; The Change Color Sprint. After the post came out, I got a call from a Capitol Insider who passed on tip that actually it is a Capitol Decathlon. While we were having a coffee in a hushed café, he passed on a slip under the table and gave the scoop on what the individual games in the Capitol Decathlon. Without revealing the name of the whistleblower, I am providing them verbatim.

Event 1: The Pants Drop Sprint

The gun has not even fired yet, and several lawmakers are already halfway through disrobing. The goal? To shed their convictions faster than an intern sheds idealism.

Senator Flipson from Texas often sets a new record and betters his own numbers — his trousers are around his ankles before the national anthem finishes. He salutes the flag anyway, because that is what patriotism looks like in 2025: pantless and polling well.

Event 2: The Flip-Flop Hurdles

Contestants must clear a series of ideological hurdles while switching positions mid-jump.

Representative Backtrack from Ohio aces it. He clears the gun rights hurdle while simultaneously rebranding himself as a champion of mental health. His campaign slogan: “Thoughts, Prayers, and Background Checks (Maybe)”.

Event 3: The Grovel Vault

The bar is set high, but that does not stop Senator Kneesly from attempting the triple-spin grovel vault. He launches into a convoluted speech about his “deeply held values,” but mid-air pirouettes into a full-throated endorsement of the very bill he filibustered last week.

He sticks the landing. The crowd of lobbyists goes wild.

Event 4: The Endorsement Crawl

Contestants must slither, squirm, and belly-slide across the floor of the Senate chamber toward a glowing orb labeled “POTUS Favor.”

Some crawl so fast they generate rug burns and minor existential crises. One junior representative tries to stand halfway through but collapses under the weight of a donor spreadsheet and a lukewarm News poll.

Event 5: The Lobbyist Tug-of-War

The teams are… well, undefined. Everyone is being pulled in multiple directions. Fossil fuel money tugs left, pharma yanks right, and Big Tech applies an algorithmic nudge straight into an ethics violation.

Senator Gridlock holds on valiantly until a check from an oil executive lands in his lap. He drops the rope and announces a “sincere pivot toward energy independence.”

Event 6: The Outrage Relay

Each competitor must pass the baton of manufactured outrage within a ten-second news cycle.

Congresswoman Screech leads off, screaming about library books. She passes to Senator Fearbait, who sprints forward shouting something about gender-neutral pronouns ending civilization. The anchor leg is run by Representative Flashpoint, who hurls the baton into a TikTok hearing while shouting, “My constituents are under attack!”

The judges award bonus points for the loudness.

Event 7: The Loyalty Kneel

It is a fan favorite. Lawmakers compete to kneel the fastest when confronted with a vague presidential nod.

There is a pileup in Lane 3 — too many candidates drop simultaneously and their foreheads clunk like bowling balls. One stands briefly, confused, until an aide whispers, “Sir, the President just mentioned your district on Truth Social.” He immediately collapses into contrition.

Event 8: The Media Spin Toss

Each contestant selects a political failure and hurls it into the spin cycle until it emerges as success.

Senator Denial takes the stage: “What looks like a government shutdown is actually a strategic legislative siesta.” He gestures wildly. “The Founders would be proud.” A nearby intern mutters, “I think one of them just rolled over in his grave.”

Event 9: The Culture War Shotput

This one is messy. Competitors launch inflammatory issues into the national conversation with the goal of dividing voters and distracting from actual governance.

Today’s shotput topics include:

• Banning drag story hours in towns with no libraries
• Declaring war on wind turbines
• And issuing press releases condemning Taylor Swift’s geopolitical influence

Congressman Hysteria throws the farthest, shouting, “Patriotism starts with banning electric toothbrushes!”

Event 10: The Chameleon Change-Up

The final event. Each participant must change their position, personality, and personal pronouns (for branding purposes) in under 30 seconds.

Representative Rebrand walks in as a pro-choice centrist and exits as a “pro-life, pro-liberty, pro-low-carb traditionalist.” Her new campaign ad drops before she even clears the stage.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Would We Still Seek Meaning If We Lived Forever?

 Paradoxically, life’s fleeting nature gives moments their significance.”

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: Search for Meaning and Mortality

Summary: The search for meaning is often tied to mortality — our fleeting existence compels ambition, creativity, and connection. But what if death disappeared? Would search for meaning and purpose dissolve, or evolve beyond the sense of urgency? Whether our drive to create meaning comes from inevitability or death or sheer curiosity, is an interesting question to ponder.

From the moment consciousness stirred within us, we have measured life against its inevitable end.

The specter of mortality shapes our pursuits, fuels our desires, and compels us to seek meaning of our finite existence. Time — unyielding and fleeting — presses urgency upon our days, giving weight to our choices. But what if that urgency were stripped away? If death no longer loomed on the horizon, would our search for meaning vanish, or would it evolve into something new?

Imagine an existence unconstrained by time. Imagine a world where the ticking of the clock no longer holds meaning. No relentless countdown urging us toward ambition, no quiet fear whispering to make a legacy. Imagine a work where the passing years will merely be a shrug. Would we still paint, write, build, and dream with any urgency? Or would the absence of death extinguish the fire of creation, leaving us adrift in the vastness of time, untethered from the need for a purpose?

Throughout history, mortality has been a catalyst for creation. The awareness of an inevitable end has fueled our search for meaning, deepened our desire for connection, and sparked an unrelenting curiosity about the meaning of life. It has shaped philosophical superstructures, given rise to religions and beliefs, and propelled artists to carve statues from stone with hopes that they will last forever. It has driven lovers to linger a little longer — to feel a little less alone — and compelled thinkers to wrestle with the meaning of existence.

Paradoxically, life’s fleeting nature gives moments their significance. Without it, the number of sunsets will stretch into infinity, embraces will lose their urgency, and the time available for pursuit of wonder will know no bounds — yet, perhaps endless repetition will also strip everything of novelty and meaning.

Meaning often flourishes in contrast — joy against sorrow, presence against absence, vitality against decay. Finitude gives weight to eternity, making its pursuit feel precious. But if all things stretched unbroken into forever, would we still grasp their worth? Would passion fade into complacency, ambition dissolve into aimlessness, love dissipate into indifference? After all, there would always be tomorrow to take care of today.

But can we be so sure? Perhaps the search for meaning — the pull of curiosity — is not entirely bound to our awareness of mortality. Maybe search, and an urge to create a purpose, is not shaped by fear of loss, but by the sheer act of existence itself. If we lived forever, might new narratives not emerge, untethered from time’s constraints? Perhaps it is innate curiosity, not urgency, that truly fuels creation.

But still, compelling questions remain. What would drive a being destined to exist forever? Would infinite existence eventually crave limitations — just to rediscover the fullness of experience? And to keep things interesting, might it invent some form of death, resetting the cycle without the burden of memory? After all, we would have plenty of time to invent such alternatives.

We cannot know. Bound by the shadow of mortality, we struggle to envision beyond its limits. Our perspective is shaped — perhaps constrained — by the blinders we wear. Whether life’s brevity is the basic spark for the search for meaning and purpose remains uncertain; after all, not everyone who is bound by mortality feels the urge to do this; just look around.

And so, the question lingers, suspended beyond resolution: Can the search for meaning exist without mortality? Or is it mortality that gives this pursuit its shape, its urgency, its drive?

Perhaps we can never answer it because we cannot imagine the counterfactual world of being immortal. Or perhaps, we can approach this question by thinking of a fictional worlds of immortality, have a through experiment where life persists for different lengths of time, and think of consequences.  In doing so, we might learn something.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Giving It Back

Fallen leaves enrich the Earth —
for the next generations
  that are to come.

How many of us —
can lay the claim
  for the same.

The Three-Body Problem of Life, Mortality, and Meaning

 

Consciousness arrived like a Trojan horse bringing gifts of reflection, memory, and foresight but burdening us with the awareness of inevitable death.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: Three-Body Problem

Summary: Humanity, since the dawn of consciousness, has grappled with the intricate triad of life, mortality, and meaning. While biology compels survival, the awareness of death sparks existential unease. The search for meaning weaves itself into our finite existence, turning life into an ongoing dance — questioning, seeking, and striving to reconcile the tension between existence and impermanence.

From the moment consciousness flickered into existence, humanity has been haunted by the trio of life, mortality, and meaning. Like celestial bodies locked in an eternal dance, these forces pull at our thoughts, shape our fears, inspire our deepest inquiries, and have been an unending fountain of creativity.

Life begins with birth, an inevitable emergence dictated by biology’s unrelenting imperative — to procreate, to persist, to be. If biology did not have this imperative, it might as well be a rock.

In the grand equation of existence, the laws of nature do not ponder purpose or follow a design; they simply act. We arrive in this world because, at the core of existence, biology must be carried forward. The instincts woven into the tapestry of evolution have ensured this to happen. If our ancestors had failed this impulse, life as we know would have flickered out like a dying star. Our birth is a testament to natural selection’s quiet, unwavering, inevitable hand.

Yet for all its persistence to procreate, life ends with death, an event no biological form escapes. Death is not merely the counterweight to birth; it is also an intrinsic necessity. Without it, biology would spiral into chaos, overflowing beyond sustainability of limited resources in the environment. Aging, entropy, mutation, and competition ensure that no biological form continues indefinitely. It is here that biology finds its limit, surrendering to the forces of nature once again.

For most of the natural world, this cycle of birth and death unfolds with utter indifference. Organisms live, they multiply, they vanish, without pause to question the rhythm of their existence. But the emergence of consciousness in us changed the rules of the game.

Consciousness arrived like a Trojan horse, bringing gifts of reflection, memory, and foresight — yet hidden within was the stark awareness of our own mortality. Suddenly, we had the ability to visualize the finite nature of our being here long before its conclusion, and with this vision came the psychological state of unrest — the state of being in existential angst.

A natural death would have been fine, much like it is among animals who live and perish without dread. But consciousness is not passive — it also probes, it anticipates, it brings fear about the inevitability of death before it arrives. It wants to find a meaning that underlies the game of life. It whispers the unrelenting question: for what purpose do we go through the motions?

And so, with consciousness, the trio became complete. Life, awareness of mortality, and the search for meaning.

For many, existence still remains tethered to survival — an autopilot of biological demands, where the urge to search for meaning is overshadowed by necessity. But for others, consciousness reaches beyond the realm of ordinary. The prospect of simply being born and perishing, without deeper significance, feels hollow. Surely, life must reach beyond biology, beyond the mechanics of survival, into something richer.

In the modern world, a new force has entered the equation — the availability of non-discretionary time. It is the spare time we have that is above what is needed to sustain biology. Advances in technology, in social constructs like division of labor, have granted moments not bound by survival’s demands, yet the responsibility of how to use them falls upon us adding yet another layer of questions. Do we dedicate that time to wonder? To the pursuit of meaning that transcends mere sustenance? To creative pursuits? Or do we, despite our awareness, remain entangled in the matters of biological necessity alone, or worse, just squander the gift of non-discretionary time?

Straightforward answers to these questions remain elusive. They shift like the light of distant stars. Perhaps there is no singular answer, only the perpetual search, grasping a glimpse of the meaning but then not being able to hold onto it. Perhaps it would always be the ever-changing pursuit of meaning against the backdrop of the certainty of mortality.

And so, the dance of the trio continues. Perhaps it always would be like the infamous three-body problem where three celestial bodies find themselves entangled in an unpredictable dance. Their paths tugged by forces too intricate to tame. No law governs their motion with certainty; no equation captures the chaos of their celestial embrace. They drift, influenced yet unbound, mirroring the uncertainty of existence itself — a reminder that not all things move with purpose, and not all destinies can be traced before they unfold. Not everything has to have a meaning. Why should it?

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Note: The scope and complexities of necessities to maintain our biological forms have expanded with the evolution of societal structures and norms. We may no longer have the need to hunt and gather for survival, but now, we have to earn money to serve the same functional purpose. 

 

Capitol Games: Where Principles Compete to Die

A satire on U.S. politics where elected “athletes” trade principles for power in a surreal game of groveling and ideological gymnastics

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedies — Groucho Marx

Arun Kumar

Summary: A crisp September morning contrasts the hopeful spirit of Olympic trials with the farcical “Capitol Games,” where U.S. politicians compete in a dizzying display of flip-flops, groveling, and political contortions — all for survival, power, and a presidential nod, leaving democracy gasping at the starting line.

It is the fall season in the northern hemisphere.

The kind of September morning that poets once celebrated and a few climatologists that are left still tweet about. The sky is a brilliant, unbroken blue — no cloud dares interrupt its expanse. The air is crisp, the sort that smells faintly of nostalgia and overpriced pumpkin spice lattes. You take a deep breath, one that fills your lungs, and for momentarily, your soul. It’s the kind of breath that whispers, “Maybe life is going to be all right. Maybe that long overdue promotion is finally coming. Maybe I am not doomed after all.”

You’re sitting in a stadium, beaming with optimism and anticipation. Today is the U.S. Olympic Trials. The 400-meter dash finalists are lined up at the start, their bodies taut with focus and dreams of glory. Each of them has sweated their way here, past sprained ankles, grueling training sessions, and the occasional existential crisis questioning why they are doing this. In moments, the gun will fire. They will take off, and one of them will earn a spot on the U.S. Olympic team — a reward for merit, for sweat, for relentless human striving for achievement.

You lean forward in your seat with anticipation.

And not far from here, just a few miles away — though it may as well be an alternate universe — another trial is unfolding.

Not beneath the open skies, but under the heavy dome of the Capitol Rotunda.

Not on a track, but on the polished floor of a chamber where laws are being rewritten and reason has taken an extended sabbatical.

Here too, competitors are lining up. These are the nation’s elected representatives. Their uniforms differ slightly — ill-fitted suits, flag pins clinging for dear life, ties that double as metaphorical nooses — but their expressions are just as focused. The stakes are high. This, after all, is not about athletic glory. It’s about something far more sacred: political survival.

The event about to begin? The 400-Meter Dash to Indignity.

The rules are simple: drop your principles as fast as possible and sprint toward an endorsement from the reigning POTUS, who is observing from a distant throne, or today, perhaps a golf course, or more likely, both.

The bell sounds. Instead of bolting forward, each contestant tugs urgently at their waistband. Skirts flutter, trousers fall, and honor, like last season’s leaves turning color, fall on the ground. The fastest droppers win — those who pause to consider their shame, or worse, the betterment of their constituents, are already behind. There’s no time for dignity here.

A murmur rises in the chamber, the sound of once-respected figures clumsily justifying why their sudden transformation is not a betrayal but rather a “strategic repositioning.” They mumble phrases like “constituent alignment” and “policy flexibility,” which, translated from political to English, mean “I need this job, and I’ll say anything to hang on to it.”

The next event begins: Ideological Shotput.

Here, the contestants hurl wild policy ideas to see who can land closest to the POTUS’s current mood. One senator throws a proposal to ban electric cars because they are “woke.” Another flings a bill to rename Tuesdays after the Supreme Leader’s childhood dog. A third, desperate for attention, launches legislation to install mandatory flagpoles in every kindergarten cubby. “Patriotism begins with preschool,” he shouts, as aides hand out miniature eagles on sticks.

You watch from a distance as the shotput ideas bounce across the chamber floor like discarded principles and ethics. It’s not about governance anymore — it’s performance art, and the script is written in whatever font polls best with likely voters.

Then comes the Kneel Relay, where the goal is to hit the floor in blind loyalty faster than anyone else. Competitors drop like dominoes. One is so fast he bruises his kneecaps. Another kneels before the question is even asked. A third shatters records by kneeling, saluting, and pledging eternal allegiance in a single fluid motion, choreographed like a halftime show.

And finally, the most visually jarring of all: the Change Color Sprint. Each politician must morph their stated values and identities to match the ever-shifting tones of the party line. Former moderates now glow with the neon heat of extremism. Yesterday’s climate champions suddenly swear allegiance to black coal. Last month’s fiscal hawks are today’s deficit cheerleaders. The only constant is shapeshifting.

Some do it like a graceful liar. Others stumble through half-apologies and contradictory interviews. But none dare stand still — for stillness is political death, and consistency, a liability.

Back in the stadium, the real athletes will cross the finish line. There is no color-changing, no kneeling, no trousers dropping around ankles — just pure effort, grit, and human excellence. You will erupt in applause. You will feel, briefly, proud to be American, and human.

And then you remember the other stadium. The one with the marble columns and gilded ceilings and the thick, humid stench of moral decay. You imagine those so-called leaders, still mid-contortion, still spinning, still trying to out-flatter each other to earn a presidential tweet of approval or avoid being “primaried” into oblivion. You picture them fighting not for policy but for proximity to power, for TV clips, for the next lobbyist check.

And you feel it — not rage, not quite sadness, but something worse: shame.

You leave the stadium. Not the Olympic one, but the grand rotunda of political theater. You slip out a side door, unnoticed, past the marble busts of better men and women, past the plaques commemorating moments when courage still held sway.

Your head is bent. Not because your side lost. Not because the other side won. But because somewhere along the way, the race stopped being about the country and became a sprint toward self-preservation.

On the Capitol floor, the competition continues. And they will keep kneeling, keep shifting, keep disrobing, keep changing colors in new and imaginative ways.

For what?

For power. For platform. For the perceived glory of a headline.

Meanwhile, in the distance, the real race — the one for integrity, for truth, for something resembling leadership — remains stalled at the starting line.

Someone in the front row raised a procedural objection. Something about a transgender athlete.

A shouting match erupts over gender definitions, bathroom policies, and whether chromosomes have term limits. Committees are formed, hearings are scheduled, donors are polled.

The race is postponed. For now, indefinitely.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Gone Between Games

A day will certainly come—
when I no longer look forward
to playing pickleball
the next morning.

That day could be tomorrow—
or it could be
a few years away.

Precisely when—
I have no way
of letting you know.

But what I do know is this—
it happened to John Doe.

He was on the court yesterday—
gone today.

Discretionary vs. Non-Discretionary Time and Dilemma of Choices

A surplus of time — time affluence — isn’t always a gift; it is also an obligation to decide wisely.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Summary: A day consists of discretionary (DT) and non-discretionary (NDT) time. NDT covers essential tasks like work and maintaining hygiene, while DT offers freedom of choices. Deciding among choices for activities to fill DT, however, is not trivial. Evolution pushes us toward ease and can be a considerable influence on what we choose. Psychological traits like growth vs fixed mindset also play their role. A big philosophical question is whether some choices are better than others, and if so, why?

A single day is the fundamental unit of time that, when repeated and summed, shapes the arc of our lives. The way we choose to spend our available hours each day defines our existence — and perhaps, in the end, influences the words spoken in our eulogy.

Each day’s time can be divided into two distinct categories or boxes: discretionary time (DT) and non-discretionary time (NDT). Together, these boxes encompass our waking hours, typically ranging between 15 to 17 hours. What fills these boxes depends on how we prioritize our portfolio of engagements (PoE) — the collection of tasks, responsibilities, and pursuits that fill hours in the day.

Understanding and exploring how we allocate time between these two boxes, and what belongs in each, is an insightful and often enjoyable exercise, providing a meaningful audit of how we structure our days. In the end, this reflection can pull us out of autopilot, prompting us to question the value and meaning of our engagements and adjust our activities to better align with our current and evolving priorities and the sense of self.

The Non-Discretionary Time Box

The NDT box includes activities that are necessary for maintaining biological and social functionality. Eating is essential, as is working — unless, of course, one has the privilege of a substantial trust fund that removes the necessity of earning a living. Other routine activities, such as showering, cleaning dishes, shaving, and laundering clothes, fall into this category.

However, the size of this box and what remains in it depends on individual choices, conscientiousness, and financial means. A person might decide to grow a beard, eliminating the need to shave; shower infrequently, recognizing that daily showers are a luxury unavailable to much of the world’s population; wash dishes only when absolutely necessary; or wear clothes for an extended period before laundering them. These decisions reflect personal attitudes, preferences, and priorities, shaping how one manages life.

Financial standing plays a significant role in determining what stays in the NDT box. The ability to outsource routine tasks — by hiring a cleaner, a cook, or a concierge — allows certain engagements typically deemed necessary to be removed from this box, freeing up more time.

Once we determine the extent of our non-discretionary time outlay, we arrive at time that is left, i.e., the outlay of time in the DT box. What we do with the time in the DT box is entirely within our control. That freedom, however, comes with the burden of making choices and effectively moving time from the NDT to the DT box.

The Discretionary Time Box

What we do with DT is determined by personal priorities, interests, and motivations. It is with this time that we decide which pursuits are worthy of our attention. However, making decisions about activities in the DT box is not always straightforward or easy. One particular psychological tendency often lures us off course — the inclination to choose the path of least resistance, favoring ease and convenience over effort, intentionality, and agency.

The Evolutionary Trap: The Path of Least Resistance

Human beings have an innate tendency to opt for convenience, choosing activities that require minimal effort. This inclination, rooted in evolutionary survival mechanisms, has long been advantageous for survival and reproduction. Throughout evolutionary history, conserving energy meant avoiding unnecessary exertion, ensuring survival in a world of scarce resources. Our ancestors, faced with the need to hunt and gather (definitely not an easy task), implicitly knew that expending energy recklessly could result in failure, exhaustion, or even death (cognizant or not, natural selection will steer you towards such traits).

Even today, this evolutionary trait continues to shape our daily lives. Choosing to relax rather than exercise, procrastinating on personal development, or scrolling through social media instead of reading a book — all reflect our inclination for low-effort engagements. We are born cognitive misers.

While this mindset once benefited survival, in modern society, it can function as a barrier to self-progress, self-improvement, and pursuing meaningful achievements. Although important, the tendency to choose the path of least action, however, is not the only factor influencing choices we make.

Growth Mindset vs. Fixed Mindset

What choices we make for the DT available to us also depends on psychological makeup. People with a growth mindset embrace challenges, strive for development, and seek knowledge continuously. They view time affluence as an opportunity to acquire skills, explore new passions, and refine their abilities.

Conversely, those with a fixed mindset tend to resist change. They may believe their capabilities are static, leading them to avoid challenges or new experiences. This psychological distinction significantly affects time allocation — whether one chooses to invest DT for learning, creativity, and personal growth or prefers routine activities that maintain comfort.

Growth Mindset vs. “Content With Relaxing” Retirees

A particularly interesting example of choice emerges when considering growth-oriented retirees versus retirees who adopt a more laissez-faire approach. While some retirees seize their newfound time affluence after retirement to travel, explore new hobbies, and reinvent themselves, others — whom we can call “content relaxers” — find fulfillment in slowing down. These individuals may prefer watching TV, golfing, engaging in leisurely activities, and soaking in the comforts of routine, rather than chasing new experiences.

Perhaps, both choices are equally valid — what matters is whether the individual finds contentment in their decision and is at ease with them. There is no absolute measure to determine which way of making choices is better or worse (for that matter, our predispositions may not even allow for making choices against our innate nature). A measure for the right choices for activities could be a fulfillment they bring to us, which is a personal matter rather than external validation.

If a person feels secure in their choices, without regret or longing for alternatives, their approach to DT is perfectly legitimate.

Time Allocation During Life Transitions

Time allocation between DT and NDT boxes can fluctuate during life transitions. Major transitions such as retirement, career changes, or family matters, alter the distribution of time between DT and NDT.

When retiring, the size of DT box expands leading to time affluence. Without an anticipated or planned structure, this sudden increase in discretionary hours can become a slippery slope, resulting in a feeling of stagnation or lack of fulfillment. Some retirees struggle with too much free time, finding themselves adrift, uncertain of how to allocate their newfound hours meaningfully. Nearing the end of life and realizing the prospect of mortality, engaging in activities for their own sake is a double whammy. Those who plan in advance, however, do manage to redirect their time toward personal growth, leisure, or social engagement.

Parting Thoughts

In the end, time allocation is deeply personal. Whether an individual fills the DT box with intellectual exploration or chooses relaxation, there are no absolute metrics for determining which is inherently better. What matters most is contentment — if a person feels secure in their choices, without regret or dissatisfaction, then they are on solid ground.

As life transitions alter the balance between DT and NDT boxes, it is crucial to anticipate these changes, plan strategically, and adapt accordingly. No matter how circumstances change, one constant remains: our ability to engage with our available time in meaningful ways, using our choices to shape our lives in alignment with our aspirations and priorities.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

A Note: The urge for this post started with my reflections on how the choices we make for the activities for the DT box intersect with a myriad of thought-provoking questions that generations of philosophers have dwelled upon. Are some choices inherently better than others — and if so, why? Do absolute metrics exist that allow choices we make to be measured and judged objectively?

Is learning a new skill, even without the intention to monetize it, more valuable than opting for the path of least resistance — one that television and the internet have perfected, offering unlimited content that seems endlessly novel? Is volunteering for a just cause a superior choice compared to other non-pursuits? How does the personal temperament we are born with, such as a growth mindset versus a fixed mindset, influence our choice of activities? Could legacy — the signature we leave behind — serve as a meaningful metric for choices we make? Or, in the end, are all choices equal, as long as we can look back on our lives without regret for paths we chose not to explore?

How about the role of inequalities (e.g., financial, or cognitive) in our ability to make choices. Having DT itself is a luxury of sorts that many do not have. For those who have the privilege to have this luxury, is the burden of the responsibility of making (right) choices higher? But then, we circle back again to pondering what is ‘right’?

In the end, all roads come down to the same question — is there a way to judge if some choices we make are better than others? This is what has kept philosophers busy since the dawn of civilization. And we continue on the same quest.