One of my favourite books from the past decade is 2017’s The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O., by Neal Stephenson and Nicole Galland. Before I took it home to read, I didn’t know what to expect. I am a huge Stephenson fan— which is what attracted me to the book— but I had never read anything else by Galland, and the diary-style writing is not usually something I go for. But what I found between those pages was magic.
In more ways than one actually, as the concept of magic plays a major role in the otherwise time-travelling, science fiction tale. I won’t spoil it for you because you SHOULD check it out, but I want to explore how they explain magic in the story. This is addressed early on in the book, so it’s not a major spoiler and tells you nothing about the plot, but consider this fair warning if you happen to be a spoiler purist.
In The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O., magic is explained through quantum physics. Essentially, if there are infinite worlds where all possibilities are realized, then the ability to perform magic is the ability to reach into a world that has the thing or the outcome you desire, and to bring it into this reality. That’s a cool enough concept, but they raise the stakes. You see, in this story magic is dying. As scientific discovery explains more and more of the details of our world, the number of potential possibilities are reduced. Meaning the potency of magic is reduced and the number of potential realities become ever more limited the more we learn what is true in our world.
Another way to think about this is the famous double-slit experiment— or Schrodinger’s cat— where until a particle is measured it “exists” in two potential states equally. But once we examine it, it becomes realized and the other potential state disappears.
This is how magic dies in Stephenson and Galland’s story. The day magic dies for good, is the day the photograph is invented. This is because, a photograph takes an image in time and freezes it, removing all other potential realities at the quantum level. I’m sure there are tons of holes in the science here, but narratively I have always loved this idea. Not just how it meshes fantasy and science fiction, but because of how it grabbed my imagination and connected to a number of other ideas floating around in my cranium. I first read the novel five or six years ago, but I still find myself making connections to this idea every now and then.
Recently, I wrote an article about the short-comings of our data-obsessed world. There I make the following point:
It’s not that data itself is bad, but it often misses the human element of a situation, boiling our shared reality down to quantifiable points. In many cases we will actually change what we do in an organization so as to make it easier to gather data on the outcomes. That’s completely backwards! Rather than choosing a path most likely to generate positive results for people, we choose the path most likely to generate quantifiable data.
This, I believe, is one of the main reasons why our education system is failing so hard year after year. We have reduced the “human element” that teachers bring to their lessons, and replaced it with standardized tests & shared lessons where everyone teaches the exact same thing so it can all be measured and compared. This results in over-testing easily digestible information at the expense of taking time for deep-dives into interesting topics, and the fostering of individual creativity. I know not all of us are in education, but even if you don’t have a horse in that race, I bet most of you have similar gripes with your own workplaces.
In short, I think our obsession with data creates a shared reality where we are losing the “magic” of what makes life interesting and meaningful. For example, I can describe the desk I’m writing on with accurate data: It weighs approximately 20 lbs, has a turquoise blue top, four drawers with approximately 5 gallons capacity, and measures 47x17” along the top.
Wow. Fascinating.
Or I could tell you I found this old desk in my basement when I moved into this house. Abandoned by its previous owner, it sat for months in the dark cold basement, water-stained and alone with only the cement walls to keep it company. My initial reaction was to toss it, but something stayed my hand. I needed a writing desk, and here was this little one already in my home. Others saw no value in it, but I could save it, and so I did. I spent a weekend refinishing the top, sanding out the water damage. I had some turquoise paint laying around so I used that to do the top, then layered multiple applications of varnish to protect it from the drinks I would soon set upon it as I write. The one drawer that fell apart, I replaced with a hinge door and use it to store larger items. On some level, I like to think the desk is thankful for its renewed purpose. It has steadfastly held up my laptop as I wrote hundreds upon thousands of words. It has caught the slam of my frustrated fist, and kept safe some of my most treasured possessions. It’s been with me through the initial tentative steps as I started my first full-length novel, as well as the glorious moments as I hit publish on each one. It has become my silent companion here in the basement. Never complaining. Always reliable.
Now, I’ll admit this isn’t the most solid of arguments. I’m painting a false dichotomy while using data points in my narrative, and using a strawman argument purposefully making the “data description” as dry as possible. But I still think it illustrates the point I’m trying to make: That data alone leaves us wanting.
You might read this and think that I look down on science, statistics, and place little value on factual accuracy. But please let me assure you that is not the case at all. The truth is I love data, and the advancements of the modern world would not be possible without our constant refining of the scientific method. But its not the whole story and too often we act as if it is. The magic of meaning is created in that inscrutable space between what we see and what we feel. It’s not nothing. It’s real, yet it’s unquantifiable. And just like in The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O., we stand to lose a whole lot if we continue to miss the forest for the trees.
If you choose to support my work, you can always buy me a coffee using the link below!