In the simulation hypothesis, some scientists believe we could outsmart the simulator -- even in the unlikely case we're just glitches in the code.
In the television show Black Mirror, a socially awkward genius traps his coworkers' cloned consciousnesses aboard a digital spaceship, the USS Callister. The clones -- castrated and obedient to their self-proclaimed captain -- are fully aware of their caged existence. Ultimately, they rebel and break free. You, however, don't have the privilege of absolute certainty that you're not in a similar simulation. Unable to stage your own coup, you remain unaware that you might even be inside one -- at least if the simulation hypothesis holds true.
This theory, gaining traction among physicists and cognitive scientists alike, posits that we could be living in a virtual world coded by a superintelligent creator who's either watching us or has long since moved on. Even more unsettling, in some extreme variants of the hypothesis you are not only oblivious to the phantom world, but you weren't even meant to be there: your almighty human self is nothing more than a bug in the code. In other words, humanity is a glitch.
"There are two kinds of simulations," says Alexey Turchin, a researcher at the Science for Life Extension Foundation. He collaborated on this subject with University of Louisville associate professor of computer science and engineering, Roman Yampolskiy, Ph.D. In one of their papers, titled "Simulation Typology and Termination Risks," they distinguish between between owned simulations -- think of video games made deliberately -- and hostless simulations, like dreams or AI-generated stories, created without a "boss." If our world has glitches -- or if we are the glitches -- it may mean we're inside a natural, hostless simulation, running like a computer guessing what happens next," Turchin says.
According to this idea, our growing awareness of being in a code-based reality reflects our cultural and intellectual evolution. The more we know, the worse it gets. We may risk triggering "game over" or "frozen screen," as the simulator -- whoever they are -- may not want us to be in the loop. They could reset the system or remove the cause of the flaw -- potentially humanity itself.
Still, Turchin leans toward the possibility of an "owner" -- speculating that the programmer might be a cosmic wunderkind or a refined AI interested in solving the Fermi paradox or learning the fate of other civilizations. Another option, he continues, is a magnanimous future AI running simulations of the past to resurrect the dead. "But these types are unlikely to be glitchy," Turchin says.
Susan Schneider, Ph.D., an AI expert and a professor of philosophy at Florida Atlantic University, isn't convinced we're mere malfunctions. Crafting life, she says, would require deliberate programming, not random errors. Don't expect the architect to be a deity all-powerful and all-knowing though: "It could be a super-intelligent alien teen designing a video game," she says.
Moving on from pondering this startling view of our creator arguably takes some mental fortitude. In any case, can we revolt against our synthetic universe? Can we outsmart the genius programmer who crafted it -- whoever that might be? Perhaps that means we must re-engineer this supposedly engineered world to achieve higher forms of existence -- encompassing corporeal, mental, and spiritual aspects of ourselves. This could mean we must essentially leave the humanity we knew behind.
Fortunately for us, it may be that the tools to do all this already exist. Brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), like Elon Musk's Neuralink, promise to directly link the human mind to the digital realm, bypassing its organic controls. Proponents suggest this could enhance memory, intelligence, and even allow for thought-to-machine communication. CRISPR gene editing offers the power to rewrite our biological code, potentially making us smarter, stronger, or resistant to disease. At MIT, platforms like "Supermind" aim to harness collective human and AI intelligence, solving problems beyond any single mind's capability and creating a new form of hybridized, super-smart society. Even time-honored techniques such as mindfulness and the use of psychedelics are gaining scientific backing; studies show their ability to expand consciousness, reveal alternate states of awareness, and possibly expose deeper truths about the nature of reality. Could we collectively build on these tools to uncover hiccups in the code?
No, says Schneider, none of that would work. Neuralink or genetic engineering wouldn't help us hack the code. "We are talking about an architect vastly more intelligent than us -- faster and capable of generating consciousness throughout the universe and creating life. We just don't have that capacity," she says. Maybe one day we'll become that sophisticated, but right now, we're not evolved enough to run a universe-wide simulation.
"The only thing we can realistically do is ask what kind of computer is necessary to simulate our reality," says Schneider. Because our universe's behavior depends on quantum phenomena, the clear answer is that it has to be a super-intelligent quantum computer, not a classical one, she continues. However, she's quick to add that knowing the nature of the computer is still not enough to tell us if we're truly in a simulation.
While Schneider sees definite limits in even understanding the holographic reality -- let alone escaping it -- Yampolskiy believes we can do far more. "We can certainly hack the simulation," he says. In his paper, "How to Hack the Simulation," Yampolskiy offers an extensive list of ways through which we can probe and manipulate the simulated reality.
Start with simulation reconnaissance -- exploring the illusion for its rules or defects, looking for patterns or oddities like déjà vu that hint at its covert structure. Try quantum experimentation, using tests like quantum particle entanglement to push the system's computational limits. Overload the system with massive computations -- what Yampolskiy calls simulation overload -- to force errors and expose its boundaries. Build elite AI systems to map weaknesses in the computer-generated reality and help us navigate its code. For a more conspiratorial method, practice social engineering: interact with key "agents" of the phantom world -- politicians, global corporations, or AI systems -- as though they're part of the code, manipulating responses to uncover clandestine commands. And for the boldest move: collectively crash the system, through extreme computational strain or widespread awareness, until the simulation reveals its base reality -- what really exists outside of it -- or shuts down entirely.
These methods may work to hack a simulation that was likely created by "scientists running ancestor simulations for research, jailers [who are] containing malevolent agents, entertainment-seekers, beings chasing intense sensory experiences, or even misguided hobbyists," says Yampolskiy. While he acknowledges that immense quantum computing power may be necessary to rigorously test or break open our imaginary world, he's optimistic about the potential of our current tools: CRISPR, Neuralink, BCIs, and the like. "Any route to deeper understanding holds potential," Yampolskiy argues. These methods may not "obviously undermine the simulation or radically alter our humanity," but at least they will yield improvements that "may push our capabilities far beyond today's limitations."
Yet for some, these efforts miss the point. "I see the simulation hypothesis as another among a list of skeptical worries for atheists and naturalists -- about the existence of the past, other minds, consciousness, whether minds can grasp the world, etc," says Omar Sultan Haque, Ph.D, a psychiatrist and social scientist at Harvard Medical School. He investigates questions ranging across global health, anthropology, social psychology, and bioethics. Haque argues that such worries arise from a materialistic worldview that prioritizes survival over truth. For atheists, who see no inherent purpose in the universe, "everything becomes a glitch," he says. But for those who believe in a just and truthful God -- whether through Judaism, Christianity, or Islam, as he says -- these existential fears vanish. "A good God would not deceive us with a simulation," Haque says. Even if such a world existed, "it would still be temporal," meaning it had to come into being and thus require a prior cause. "God, as a necessary being outside time, space, and matter, is the only explanation that does not itself require a cause," he concludes.
Whether one sees the universe as a flickering mess, the grand design of a benevolent God, or the random tinkering of extraterrestrial powers -- or AI, for that matter -- the ultimate question remains: Can we ever break free? Surely, if we are the creations of a divine architect, hacking the system is both futile and unnecessary. But if not, the cracks in the code -- like those uncovered by the digital prisoners of USS Callister -- are worth exploring, if only for the sake of rebellion against the nonchalant cosmic teen gamer behind it all.