A regular feature by our own Mike Fiorito.

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS

A cool September breeze swept over Oakland, making the palm trees gently sway. It had been a bright California day and the sunset stained the sky in purple hues.

As darkness set in, stadium lights flooded the Cow Palace and a roar of applause issued from the full capacity crowd. Cameras swept the audience, showing images of cheering fans excited over the coming battle. 

The concept for tonight’s HBO program had been discussed for years but only took off after a much-publicized brawl between two of philosophy’s greatest minds. At a recent conference in Berkeley, the two dons of Philosophy of Mind, Daniel Dennett, and John Searle, found themselves wrestling on the floor in a shocking display of exuberant dispute. It escalated when Searle pinched Dennett’s ass to prove a point about the ontology of “subjective experience” – namely that a pinch can prove subjectivity. Dennett responded with a swift left hook to the chin, followed by a shove to the floor. The conference exploded into disarray. The entire Berkeley faculty jumped in to assist Searle as Dennett choked him. This of course was followed by Dennett’s Rutgers staff joining in. The Berkeley police were summoned, recalling the campus riots of the sixties. Dennett was recorded saying, “Searle was involved in the sixties riots too – the guy’s a magnet for trouble.” The newspapers jumped on the moment. The tabloid headlines read PHILOSOPHY PROFS FIST FIGHT FURIOUSLY.

HBO’s concept was to reunite the two for an evening of disputation and wrestling and hire the Hells Angels to provide security. To top it off, HBO agreed to pay big money for Stephen Hawking, the invalid Cambridge physicist, to emcee the event. And to show the world they were serious, the producers announced that the loser would have to risk Hawking’s Wormhole Wheelchair invention – in other words, be launched into a wormhole and either crushed to bits or sent across the universe. Live on TV.

Rolling out in an electric wheelchair, Hawking sat slouched, as if he might slip off at any moment.

The crowd of 50,000 cheered, the noise growing by the second. To hush the audience, Hawking pressed a button that played the theme music from “Close Encounters.” Simultaneously, a screen showed an animated image of a wormhole spinning and twisting. Below the image read the statement “Baby universe just born, 8 oz.” The stadium exploded with laughter. As Hawking began speaking again, they quieted. Despite its robotic quality, Hawking’s automated speaking voice had character and charm.

“THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING HERE TONIGHT.” 

Cheers, clapping.

“YOU KNOW THE PROGRAM. SEARLE AND DENNETT WILL BE SPARRING – IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE.”

Cheers again. Hawking smiled as saliva trickled down his mouth. His large horsey teeth looked like a town-car grille. A close-up was broadcast on the big screen.

Laughter, increased applause.

“TONIGHT IS A DOUBLE WHAMMY, FOLKS. NOT ONLY IS THE FATE OF CONSCIOUSNESS AT STAKE, BUT THE BIG QUESTION OF THE UNIVERSE WILL BE TESTED: WHAT HAPPENS INSIDE A WORMHOLE?”

More clapping. A row of fans pulled out placards that read: WE LOVE YOU STEPHEN!

The effect was not lost on Hawking, who was now being wiped down by his assistant professor. The entire spectacle was beamed to millions across the world.

Hawking’s devoted staff referred to his outbreaks of saliva and nose running as “getting him sorted out,” and they did it playfully, accompanied by “I’m Too Sexy” booming out on the stadium speakers.

When Hawking was finally “sorted out,” sitting straight up again, his khaki pants smoothed, glasses cleaned, he resumed.

“COMING IN AT 215 POUNDS, I’D LIKE TO INTRODUCE THE VISITING PROFESSOR FROM RUTGERS, DANIEL DENNETT.”

Boos, hisses.

“DENNETT, THE UNABASHED REDUCTIONIST, IS THE LEADING VOICE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IN ACADEMIC CIRCLES, HAVING WRITTEN DOZENS OF BOOKS ON CONSCIOUSNESS.”

Dennett emerged from his corner of the ring wearing thick square glasses. His coarse gray hair spiked like a shredded broom. Despite his flabby naked chest, he stood at about six feet, looking impressive. Thrusting punches in the air, shadow boxing, Dennett earned approval from the audience. He might be a reductionist, but he was here to fight, no doubt. His bright yellow shorts glittered in the stadium lights.

To remind the audience what might occur should they get too rowdy, the stadium screen flashed an image of the Hells Angels posted at the exits, brandishing knives in their utility belts. The crowd issued a soft “oooohhhh,” then clapped.

Bright blinking lights flashed overhead. The stadium lulled into silence. Hawking’s voice resounded in the dimming quietude.

“COMING IN AT FIVE FOOT SEVEN, 150 POUNDS, BERKELEY’S OWN JOHN SEARLE, PROPONENT OF THE VALIDITY OF SUBJECTIVITY AND PROMOTER OF THE CHINESE ROOM THOUGHT EXPERIMENT. SEARLE IS DENNETT’S MOST ARDENT CHALLENGER.”

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

In red boxers trimmed with a white waist band, Searle charged out, pointing at Dennett in an attempt to lure the crowd to join him in mocking the visiting professor. Some had thought Dennett was crazy to agree to this match in Searle’s backyard. Dennett’s response was “Look, it’s all neurons anyway, and besides, I can finally retire with the money I make and get back to fishing.”

Hawking’s voice machine displayed the rules on the board:

“YOU KNOW THE RULES BOYS. NO HITTING BELOW THE BELT. NO BITING. THE SOCRATIC METHOD ISN’T PERMITTED EITHER.”

The bell rang.

Being the visitor, Dennett went first. He stepped into the middle of the ring, grabbing hold of the microphone that was dangling from a cable above the cage.

“You Californians like to think you are revolutionary, especially here on the Peninsula, right?” shouted Dennett, pointing to Searle. Smiling, Dennett scratched a thick swath of his beard. He continued. “One of us is dead wrong, folks. Searle here says my point of view is intellectual pathology.”

As the crowd clapped, apparently agreeing with Searle, Dennett shook Searle’s hand, signaling them to quiet down.

“I just want you to know that I am the revolutionary here. I’m the one who is breaking with tradition. Unlike the happy hippie Searle, I’m coming after your most deeply cherished intuitions. Searle talks about these qualia – subjective states – on which he hangs his whole weakly wrought position. I say here and now, an objective science of consciousness is possible.”

Searle stepped up to the microphone, waved his hands as if to dismiss Dennett, and said finally, “My opponent is irked because I pinched his ass to prove a point.” The crowd laughed, and then began chanting “JOHN SEARLE, ROCK HIS WORLD, JOHN SEARLE, ROCK HIS WORLD.” Thanking his supporters for their approval, Searle continued. “To prove my point that only YOU can have a subjective experience which, even if it can be recorded, still exists as YOUR experience, I want you to pinch the ass of the person standing next to you.” An expert on crowd psychology, Searle observed the audience shift around and then begin pinching each other. The screen showed people laughing. Two people started kissing as the crowd began pinching each other’s asses. “Does anyone not feel a pinch?” Searle asked. “See what I mean? Dennett wants you to believe that the only reality of this experience is what shows up on a recording device. YOU didn’t feel it because YOU don’t exist. YOU are a User Illusion! Ha!”

The bell clanged again. They both went to their respective corners.

The next round started with a ding. Dennett and Searle came out swinging. Enough debate for one round. The microphone dangled just above them recording their continuing dialog and other noises.

Dennett’s longer reach allowed him to deliver a series of punishing left hooks. Searle winced, rebounding with a flurry of short blows to Dennett’s rib cage.

As Dennett doubled over out of breath, Searle jeeringly pointed, taunting him Ali-style. “User illusion, huh Dennett?” Then Searle cocked his right arm to deliver a follow-up knockout punch, but, as he wildly swung his short skinny arm, Dennett ducked, avoiding the blow. A whoosh was heard in the stadium. Taking advantage of Searle’s exposed rib cage, Dennett launched a devastating blow, saying “Is this harder than a pinch? Maybe you’re better off not having subjectivity now, huh?” As the bell rang, Searle was knocked to the floor.

As the two men nursed their wounds, Hawking seized the opportunity to demonstrate his Hawking Wormhole Wheelchair with a dazzling multi-media presentation. The theme music from “Star Wars” blared out of the stadium speakers and the screens showed Hawkin’s wheelchair huffing fire and smoke, eventually generating enough energy (nearly the energy created by the center of a galaxy) to create a wormhole. Hawking theorized that this wormhole could rapidly transport something (or someone) to the far end of the universe.

The match resumed.

Returning to the microphone, Dennett began again, hunched over now and visibly affected by the blows he’d received. 

“Searle doesn’t have a program of research. He has a set of truths to defend, principally that consciousness is ‘out-there,’ that it can’t be mapped, that we possess this hokey thing called a will which, by the way, emerges magically out of neurons but can’t be found or recorded.” He finished, taking a few breaths, rubbing his bruised side. “Searle believes that brains secrete consciousness and that this secretion is above and beyond its physical conditions. And this, my friends, is where I disagree. I deliberately postpone addressing the big FAT philosophical questions to elaborate my counter-intuitive position that consciousness is a neurological phenomenon, something that can be quantified, not some spooky nether substance that’s given to us by the hand of God.”

In response to this attack, Searle rushed Dennett’s corner, swinging wildly. His blows knocked Dennett’s glasses off. Searle was then dragged back to his corner by a giant Hells Angel. The Angel’s massive hands covered Searle’s neck, holding him down like a crazed criminal. His face turning a flush red, Searle tried to escape, kicking and flailing his arms. The crowd booed. When the Hell’s Angel let go, Searle collapsed, his haggard face showing on the big screen. Wiping the blood that was caked on his lips, Searle peeled his arm off the ground and triumphantly raised his hand.

Hawking threatened Searle with disqualification. But Searle knew he’d won the hearts of the crowd with this calculated stunt of outlandish behavior.

Returning to the podium to speak, Searle brushed himself off and excitedly proclaimed “I am grateful for Dennett. Despite his bitterness, his statements allow me to make my position even more clear. You see,” he said, wiping sweat off his thick bushy eyebrows which were spotted with strands of graying hair, “I think we really do have conscious states and conscious events in our waking and dreaming lives. Conscious events and molecules are different. Conscious events can only be experienced in the first person. Dennett wants you to believe it’s a third-person phenomenon; he asserts that there is no difference between humans and complex zombies who lack feeling because after all we are just –”

Searle’s voice trailed off as Dennett advanced toward him. They began pummeling each other. Searle’s lip bled profusely as Dennett’s eye grew redder with each blow. They were finally separated by a towering Angel and both were disqualified by Hawking.

All attention then focused on Hawking. His synthetic voice echoed through the stadium. Instead of one test dummy, he now had two, he exclaimed loudly, referring to Dennett and Searle. Hawking’s voice rang out. “INTO THE WORMHOLE THEY WILL GO.”

The crowd was frantic, banging their feet in unison. The producers jumped up and down in their booths.

Searle and Dennett appeared petrified, like two children in detention for throwing paper planes at the teacher.

Hawking revved up the wormhole machine, pulling on what appeared to be a motorcycle handle. As Hawking twisted the handle, an image that looked like a waterfall of nebulae pouring into itself appeared. This was no doubt the formation of a wormhole. The edges of space around the wormhole shimmered and warped. The wormhole device was now engulfed in flames.

Two Hells Angels walked Searle and Dennett into the fiery pit of the wormhole. As they both turned around to say hello, a window in time swung open. Searle’s hair blew back from the blast of the wormhole. Now the wormhole cast a punctured window into time-space. And in this window a swirl of objects and images tumbled: an ancient astrolabe once owned by Paracelsus, a Paleolithic stone wheel, and Aldous Huxley trapped in a chrome yellow Riemann surface cube.

As Searle and Dennett leapt into the wormhole, the crowd gave another roar of applause. Despite another outbreak of saliva and nose running, Hawking had a great big smile on his face.

Searle and Dennett were zapped by a strike of lightning and vanished as they fell into the wormhole. After a puff of smoke cleared, the stage was empty. Like a Venus flytrap, the wormhole had consumed the two philosophers. The crowd was stunned into silence.

Mike Fiorito is a freelance journalist, and is the author of The Hated Ones, Falling from Trees, Sleeping with Fishes, Call Me Guido, Freud’s Haberdashery Habits and Hallucinating Huxley. HIs book Falling from Trees received the 2022 Independent Press Distinguished Book Award (in the short story category). Mescalito Riding His White Horse, inspired by the music of bluegrass legend Peter Rowan, was released in 2023. He has completed a UFO themed science-fiction novel For All We Know which will be released in April 2024. You can read more about him here.