From Spiritually Incorrect Enlightenment:
“…the difference between us isn’t something I have that you don’t, it’s something you believe that I don’t. You think it’s real and I don’t even see it. At this point, I can’t even remember it.”
“And what’s that?”
“Everything. Everything you believe. Everything you’re absolutely certain about. Everything you’d bet your life is true.”
Curtis knocks on the table. “I’d bet my life this table is true.”
“Perfect example,” I say. “It would never even occur to me that this table might have reality. I have no thought that even resembles that. I have no context in which such a thought could exist. Reality has no reality for me.”
“You’re saying there is no table?”
“I’m saying there is no question of a table.”
He looks at me speculatively for a minute, trying to figure out if I’m really saying that I don’t think the table we’re both leaning on is real.
“You’re living in the Holodeck,” he says, referring to the computer simulated reality environment in Star Trek. “Not just the table. Me? The ocean? Everything?”
I let him think about it. He puts it together quickly.
“Computer,” he says, “end program.”
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