Пока DFT расчёты бегут можно и теологией побаловаться

So, are we living in a simulated universe? Probably the most famous expression of the Simulation Hypothesis comes from the philosopher Nick Bostrom [1]. He proposed that at least one of the following three statements is likely true:
1. Civilizations never reach a level of technological maturity that would allow them to run “ancestor simulations.”
2. Civilizations that do reach this level choose not to run such simulations (for ethical or other reasons).
3. If advanced civilizations do run simulations, there are likely so many of them that, statistically, we’re probably living in one.
Put differently, if simulating entire universes is both feasible and popular among advanced species, then there could be countless “fake” universes for every “real” one. So, what are the odds we just happen to be in the original, unsimulated reality?
Sounds convincing, doesn’t it? Physicists can neither support nor deny the simulation theory at this point; there is evidence for [2] and against [3] it. Thus, it’s no wonder that some people seem to believe we live in a simulation. Furthermore, popular media and science fiction also love to toy with simulation narratives: The Thirteenth Floor depicts a virtual 1930s world run by futuristic scientists; Vanilla Sky blurs the line between dreams and simulated reality; The Matrix famously shows humanity trapped in a digital construct overseen by AI; Black Mirror episodes often explore how virtual environments challenge our sense of what’s real. But let’s leave fiction aside for a moment.
As an experimentalist myself, I wonder: if I were the one running this cosmic simulation, carefully observing sentient beings evolve, interact, and grapple with existential questions, what would I think? What ethical responsibilities would I feel toward these conscious creations? I am hardly the first to ask these questions: many philosophical articles were published exploring them [4, 5, 6, 7]. Below is a very short summary of some selected ideas from these articles.
What is the purpose of the simulation? If an advanced civilization were indeed running a simulation of our universe, the most reasonable motive would likely be scientific curiosity. Think about it: building and maintaining a simulation as vast and complex as our reality would require unimaginable resources, even for a highly advanced species. Perhaps they’re investigating the emergence of consciousness, the evolution of intelligent societies, or the dynamics of technological development. Maybe they’re curious about how civilizations handle resource scarcity, climate change, or artificial intelligence. In this view, we are most likely not entertainment, nor a game, nor a vanity project. Perhaps they didn’t even intend to simulate the whole universe with conscious beings in it, but once that happened, they couldn’t just stop and erase everything that had evolved to that point.
Would the simulators interfere? If we accept that our reality is a carefully monitored experiment, the next logical question is whether and how the simulators intervene in their creation. After all, any scientist running a long-term experiment sometimes faces the need to tweak parameters, introduce new variables, or correct unintended outcomes. But overt interference might compromise the integrity of the results. Thus, if interventions happen, they would likely be rare, subtle, and designed to appear as natural phenomena or coincidences from our perspective. Perhaps an unexpected scientific discovery appears sooner than anticipated, or a catastrophic event is narrowly averted by a chain of seemingly unrelated causes. On the other hand, if the experiment ever risks stagnation, if evolution slows down or intelligent life fails to emerge, the simulators might give it a gentle push. Just enough to keep complexity and intelligence evolving rather than collapsing into dead ends. In this light, history’s pivotal moments could reflect tiny adjustments made behind the scenes.
Why is there so much suffering? This question, known in philosophy as the problem of theodicy, has troubled thinkers for millennia. If a higher intelligence governs our world, why would it allow pain, injustice, or natural disasters? From the simulation perspective, the answer might be dispassionately pragmatic. An experiment meant to study complex systems, moral evolution, or societal dynamics cannot be conducted in a sanitized, risk-free environment. Conflict, suffering, and even tragedy may be unavoidable byproducts of authentic development. Shielding simulated beings from hardship would skew the results or make the simulation unrealistic. Worse, it could prevent the emergence of resilience, cooperation, or ethical systems. Much like scientists observing wildlife cannot intervene every time a predator hunts its prey, the simulators might accept suffering as a necessary, though regrettable, component of an unsupervised, authentic experiment.
Can suffering be compensated and moral behavior rewarded after death? In a simulated reality, death could simply mean the end of a local process: the deletion or archiving of a data instance. But what if the simulators have a system for extracting particularly valuable “instances” - consciousnesses that exhibited unique traits, insights, or behaviors? Or perhaps they wish to compensate those who suffered excessively during their simulated lives? Call it “cyberheaven”: a repository where select minds are preserved, studied, or even granted existence in a different simulation. In this light, death might not be an end, but a transition to another stage of a process we cannot yet comprehend. Is there a “cyberhell”? Probably not, as there’s no practical reason to waste resources on that. Maybe some particularly evil personalities are judged by their victims in a kind of simulated afterlife trial before being erased forever.
So, what’s the conclusion? One key insight from this thought experiment is that moral responsibility remains ours, even if some form of cosmic oversight exists. Whether we are lab rats, free agents, or both - our actions matter: to ourselves, to others, and perhaps even to the data being collected by the simulators. If they do intervene, it may be precisely because our authentic responses to challenges and opportunities are the most valuable results of the experiment. In that sense, we cannot sit back and wait for a cosmic caretaker to fix our problems; we must face them ourselves. At the same time, we shouldn’t despair or panic. We should try our best, and even if we fail, in the worst case, perhaps the world will still be saved by an intervention that appears to us as a miraculous stroke of luck.
References
1. Bostrom, N. (2003) Are you living in a computer simulation? Philosophical Quarterly 53 (211): 243-255.
2. (a) Vopson, M. M. (2023) The second law of infodynamics and its implications for the simulated universe hypothesis. AIP Advances 13, 105308. (b) Fullwood, J.; Vedral, V. (2025) Geometry from quantum temporal correlations. arXiv:2502.13293.
3. Vazza, F. (2025) Astrophysical constraints on the simulation hypothesis for this Universe: why it is (nearly) impossible that we live in a simulation. Frontiers of Physics Vol. 13.
4. Steinhart, E. (2010) Theological Implications of the Simulation Argument. Ars Disputandi 10, 23-37.
5. Gualeni, S. (2021) A Theodicy for Artificial Universes: Moral Considerations on Simulation Hypotheses. International Journal of Technoethics, 12 (1), 21-31.
6. Yılmaz, A. A. (2023) Simulation Hypothesis and Theism: An Assessment in the Context of Multiverse. Eskiyeni 51, 992-1006.
7. Huyett, I. (2024) Religious Parallels to the Simulation Hypothesis: Gnosticism, Mormonism, and Neoplatonism. Sophia 63:239–257.