michael-dean-k/

The infinite monkey theorem is often stated as, “if you give an infinite amount of monkeys an infinite number of time, one of them will eventually write Hamlet.” This is very off. I assume most people think it’s off because they know monkeys can’t write (which misses the point). I think it’s off in the other direction; it misunderstands what happens when you multiply infinite x infinite. You won’t just get one Hamlet; you’d get a whole lot more.

Let’s start with a single infinite: a monkey with infinite time. Imagine putting said monkey in a magic bubble that gives him immortality, endless focus to type random characters, and the ability to survive the death of all universes, quantum foam, or whatever. This monkey has a lot of time. Endless time. He won’t just write Hamlet once, he’ll write it many times. Actually, infinite times. Sometimes the monkey will go several million/billion/trillion years without writing Hamlet, but that’s okay because he’s on adderall, can’t die, and has only one job.

Now imagine there are infinite monkeys, too. In every frame of reality (assume this an Unreal Engine monkey simulator running at 120 FPS), the Creator can spawn monkey bubbles, 2 or 2 trillion bubbles, or however many bubbles are necessary for one of them to begin writing Hamlet in that moment. Then in the next frame (0.0083 seconds later), more monkeys are spawned until one of them starts Hamlet too. Over and over. (What we do with all the unsuccessful monkeys is a different problem.) Since all of these monkeys have internet, there are 432,000 Hamlet uploads every hour. And if these infinite monkeys started at the dawn of our universe, they would have written Hamlet 2.18×10^20 times.

The big idea is that when you multiply infinite x infinite, not only does the unlikely thing happen, but it becomes the new grammar of reality.

This thought experiment feels prescient now, because, of course, AI. While agents can replicate & work at radical speeds, it’s not literally infinite. Even if some monkey virus infected every computer on Earth, and did a years worth of work in a day, that’s still finite. But even if you multiply an astronomical x an astronomical, or even just a very big x very big, a similar effect happens: the unlikely thing becomes omnipresent.

I first started to notice this in the Sora app (which I haven’t heard about in months BTW). If you’re familiar with the “Wazzup” 1999 Budweiser commercial, you might remember that it involves two guys yelling “ZUUUUP” into a phone, with the video rapidly cutting back and forth between them. Now, you can prompt anyone into that meme. And so you can just swipe right and find the LOTR cast going “ZUUUUP,” and all the American presidents going “ZUUUUP,” and every member of the animal and pokemon kingdom going “ZUUUUP,” and everyone in your phonebook who uploaded their likeness to the app going “ZUUUUUUP,” as if every conceivable piece of media, IP, and matter just collapsed into this singular point, an arbitrarily selected commercial from 25 years ago.

Now this is a simple, harmless example. But it gets weirder when you imagine a single person’s intentions leveraged to such an extraordinary degree that they become the entirety of the Internet. It would be like, after I publish this note, all the comments came from fake accounts based on real people I know, but they each post a link to a version of Hamlet where all the characters are monkeys. And then I go to Reddit, or check my email, or listen to my voicemail, and it’s just monkey Hamlet everywhere. This is an exaggeration, but I’m trying to make a point that is something like an offshoot of the dead Internet theory. It won’t just be fake AI stuff that tries to blend in, but an assault of the bizzare, a thousand oddly specific info-viruses that we won’t be able to escape, orchestrated towards various ends that we won’t be able to wrap our heads around.

I generally don’t think the open Internet, as it’s designed today, will be able to stand it. I also don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, because the web today has ossified and enshittified and is probably due for a shakeup. I do think there will be some chaos/danger ahead, and we’ll have to each figure out how to navigate that safely, but I imagine we’ll reassemble into smaller communities, sheltered from the near-infinite, where you trust/know the 15-150 people involved, within the Dunbar limit. From this disaggregation, I think there’s a slow path of building back better and bot-resistant, and it’ll possibly be a much better place than the before-infinite-monkey times.

Extended thoughts on infinite: if you give a theoretical monkey a typewriter with infinite time, not only will one produce Shakespeare, but many will (10s, 100s, millions, technically infinite), they will just be spaced out by a long, long time. But what happens if you multiple infinite by infinite? If you give infinite monkeys infinite time, then monkeys will begin rederiving the entire works of Shakespeare in every frame of reality. This is the weird unlock: two infinites takes something rare of improbably and makes it the new grammar of space-time. OKAY. Now that this is established, what is the practical tie-in? Generative AI has two infinite-like frontiers: agent replication & time dilation. Eventually, you may be able to have millions of agents working on a task, and, they’ll be working so fast, that it’s like they can compress a decade of work in a day. The implication here is that any possible intention can suddenly be leveraged to an extraordinary degree. Things will get weird. To put it alarmingly: the person with the worst intentions could suddenly become the entirety of the Internet. The opposite is true too. But weirdness will ensue when individuals suddenly have the ability to exert their will and vision upon a seemingly limitless scope of digital terrain.

If you give an infinite amount of monkeys a typewriter, with an infinite amount of time (obviously theoretical because neither a being or time can be infinite) not only will one of them produce Shakespeare, but the entire Western Canon would be re-derived from scratch in every moment of reality. This captures the difference between astronomic values and infinite values. In astronomic values, given an absurd amount of time, one monkey will eventually do the the impossible and write Shakespeare. But with infinite values, monkeys are inventing Shakespeare as the grammar of space-time. The astronomical shows that the impossible could happen once, but the infinite shows that the impossible could become the fabric of a reality.

And Sora is, like the 2005 Facebook feed, just the start of something new, but something that might actually be as nauseating as the infinite. If you have agents that can reproduce endlessly (potentially infinite “creators”), with the ability to remix/generate one piece of content against every other node in a growing cultural matrix (actually infinite), with limited time/cost (not infinitesimal, but fractional), that leads to every possible reality happening in every moment, at a cost that’s bearable to tech corporations.

I think I find this all interesting now, because something as abstract as the infinite might shape the future of creation/consumption. And to tie this to our talk last night about optimism/pessimism, I think the difference comes down to those who have the agency and discernment to plug in to the infinite on their own terms. It could be as simple as, if you plug in to OpenAI, Meta, or X, and let them use your data to create a generative algorithmic for you, you will be swept away in limitless personalized TV static. But if you know how to build your own tools (hardware, software, social communities), then you have a chance to harness it.

In Sora, I’m currently in a Bob Ross K-Hole, and it triggered an unexplainable interest in trying to explore the edges of Bob Ross lore, which is, now that I write this, so random and pointless and misaligned, but when I do it I’m cracking up and can’t really stop.

Contrast that with my own theoretical "infinite system," where every new log surfaces the 100 most related logs, and then each of those logs becomes the seed for an essay generator, each of which gets rewritten endlessly (for hours, days, or weeks) via an EA software feedback loop, until I decide I want to read it.

And so if you dive into the infinite, even if it’s something you love, it can easily destroy you, and instead we need to make our own systems/agents that can surf those edges for us, and bring back just the right amount of information that we can meaningfully work with.

As Brian the FIOS technician worked on the house outside, I sat on the porch to inspect and make myself available for questions, also while reading DFW’s “Everything and More: A History of Infinite.”

I just moved to a new apartment, just a town over, but with much more space, and so I've been in the process of corralling all my possessions into smaller and smaller boxes and then hiring men with trucks to lug everything. I've been unable to work for the last few days, both because of packing logistics, but also because this new unit is not already wired for Internet, unless I want to split the bull with my landlord, which is a no-go.

Brian was yelling back and forth with his assistant up in a cherry picker, connecting loose wires into the Verizon hive mind, and in that moment, as I read DFW write about layers of abstraction, I thought about the layers of abstraction in this very event. I've built a whole career on the Internet, and really, I could barely explain the fundamentals of it to a child. To some degree, not even Brian or his technician could do this, and fixing wires is their job. Could the guy up in the cherry picker explain the physics of data transfer or electricity? . You can exist within one layer without knowing anything about lower or higher layers. Here's how I'd map it: L1) the science of harnessing materials and natural forces to wield power, L2) building infrastructure to scale and deliver that power, L3) knowing how to edit/patch that infrastructure (Brian and his co-worker), L4) the general user of that infrastructure, and then L5) one who is able to navigate the social puzzles the emerge when millions of people use that infrastructure.

I can't operate outside of L4-L5. It is rare for someone to be competent at every layer of abstraction. Electricity has no understanding of “Verizon.” Brian might know very little about physics, but when you watch someone do their job at L3, you see the mystery of mastery at a non-adjacent layer. I can barely explain to you the infrastructure of the Internet, but I wish I could, and learn I should.