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Project Shangri-La • The icon • The book • Big Questions • Where do we go from here?
Project Shangri-La
The first widely used electronic computers had brains made out of cardboard. Known as punch-cards – stiff pieces of paper with holes in specific locations – they contained all the instructions the computers needed to complete their super-human tasks.
From the 1950s to the 1970s, businesses craved this new-Âfangled ability to perform important calculations at whirlwind speed – and they were prepared to pay big bucks to the likes of IBM for the Âprivilege of being able to do so.
Big business was not the only computer-consumer; governments saw the advantages too, using computers to track census data and monitor taxes. There can be no doubt about it – automated information processing was the new (and ultra-smart) kid on the block.
The world was hurtling forward faster than ever before and thousands of ingenious new programs were being punched into card on almost a daily basis, each promising its own mini-Ârevolution. Despite the staggering number of instruction-sets being produced, one now-infamous stack of cards can still claim to stand out from all the rest. This was the deck that contained the ‘God-Naming Routine’ – or Project Shangri-La, as those involved had dubbed it.
In 1953, Manhattan computer scientist Dr Julien Wagner struck literal gold when he received a highly unusual request from a group of monks from the wilds of Tibet. Incredibly, this isolated band, hidden away in the perilous heights of the Himalayas, already had their own diesel generator – and they had also (somehow) become aware of Wagner’s cutting-edge Automatic Sequence Computer: the Mark V.
In exchange for vast wealth accumulated over centuries (possibly millennia), Wagner’s team was asked to write a program that would aid the monks in what they considered to be the most sacred of all human quests: determining the true names of God. This was mankind’s sole purpose, they believed, and the order had been studying the matter for at least three hundred years.
While it is tempting to imagine that such a campaign would be deeply mystical in nature – perhaps names were found through meditation or trance or desperate prayer – the monks were instead quite prepared to be pragmatic in their approach. Over the decades, they had systematized the search, steadily working their way through all the possible permutations of letters in their holy alphabet. Their doctrine told them that there were nine billion true names of God and, once they were all found, God’s purpose for the universe would be complete.
There was, as it happens, an oddly admirable selflessness about this process: the leader of the monks – who actually made the trip to New YorK – informed Wagner that if they continued to use the Âtraditional methods, at their current rate, they would require Âanother fifteen thousand years.
Amused and fascinated (and presumably also persuaded by the hoard of gold on offer), Wagner’s team began adapting the Mark V to the strange alphabet and still-yet-stranger task. Once ready, the programmed computer was capable of printing out every conceivable name that would comply with the monks’ Âmystical rule-set in just 100 days of operation. Wagner sent the machine, along with two technicians, on a plane to India, where they had onward transport arranged by the monks – all Âexpenses paid, of course.
Precisely what happened next is hard to piece together, but not impossible. What is certain is that neither technician returned. One of them, George Hanley, kept a diary and from this the extraordinary tale of the nine billion names of God can be at least partially deduced.
His colleague on the mission, Finn ‘Chuck’ Byrne (the origin of the nickname is a mystery), was a very bright chap and had come to the sudden and terrifying realization that the two of them might shortly be in a great deal of trouble.
Here they were, thousands of feet up, in a monastery that might well have been the most remote building on the whole planet, Âliving with several hundred monks who were wholly devoted to just one thing: the names. Indeed, they had spent their entire lives thus far writing them out by hand – it was what they were living for, if it could truly be called living.
What’s more, Hanley and Chuck had been treated like royalty. To their surprise and amazement, they had been given Cuban cigars, cashmere coats and – unbelievably – a Jaguar XK120 each. How these extravagances had been obtained (and how they were expected to get them home), they had no idea. None of the other monks spoke any English at all and they had barely seen the leader – whom they had begun to call ‘Sam’ – since arriving and setting the Mark V going.
All the luxury was wonderful at first, but now it had Chuck worried. The monks themselves did not value the cigars, nor the cars. Neither did they value the huge pile of wealth that Wagner had been promised on completion. Why?
Taking the opportunity when it came, Chuck had grilled Sam on what was going on. The answer chilled him to the bone. The communÂity did not treasure their treasures because, when the names were all discovered, the universe in its entirety would ‘no longer be necessary’, which, Wagner’s two employees reasoned, supposedly meant the end of the world.
Of course, Chuck and Hanley knew that the world wouldn’t end along with the program. And, when it didn’t, what would happen to them? They didn’t much fancy facing a gang of furious – perhaps even murderous – mystics.
After considering sabotaging the computer and then deciding against it, the two men thought the best option was to run for Âsafety – albeit across miles of extreme terrain – without giving prior notice to their soon-to-be-disappointed customers. Gathering what they could, they left the monastery on the very evening that the Mark V would finish.
But Hanley and Chuck didn’t make it home. Their bodies were never found; their packed-at-the-last-minute bags were. Hanley’s final diary entry is haunting to this day:
Have now left with C
S-La complete soon
Hoping that th
THE STARS ARE GOING OUT
* * *
There is little doubting that this is a gripping story, but what is it about it which unsettles us even now? Surely its power lies in the fact that it draws on so many of the questions fundamental to us – to our very humanity. Who are we? What are we here for? What else is out there? Is there a God? Can we know Him/Her/It? What is the universe? Why does it exist? Where did it come from? Does science answer these questions or are they the domain of religion?
There is a twist in the tale of Wagner, his Mark V and Project Shangri-La. It is not a story from our universe at all, but from a parallel universe – one found in the mind of the remarkable science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke. The short story of the unfortunate Hanley and Chuck, ‘The nine billion names of God’, was first published in Star Science Fiction Stories #1 in 1953 – and has been reproduced many times since.1 Even now, it remains one of the best examples of the genre.
That does, of course, mean, the events recorded above never really happened. Or, rather, we should maybe say that they probably never happened. For if, as some cosmologists have been suggesting for a while, there is actually an infinite number of universes, then they have happened – what’s more, they have happened an infinite number of times. Poor Chuck.
The crazy consequences of ideas like this explain why the Ânotion of parallel universes – or of a ‘multiverse’ – is garnering so much attention. What was once the playground of sci-fi writers is now part of the mainstream conversation and speculation is the name of the game. Before we discuss the multiverse and other highly befuddling cosmoddities, however, we must discuss the life story of a man who is so extraordinary that he may as well have come from another universe himself: Professor Stephen Hawking.
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Even Arthur C. Clarke would not have dared to pen a narrative quite like the life and times of Hawking – it would have seemed too much of a stretch. A brief summary makes that point well: born in Oxford in 1942, Stephen Hawking didn’t always do all that well at school (coming bottom in his class at times) and yet he ended up with a scholarship to Oxford University no less. Once there, he only worked for about an hour a day, but still finished with a First Class physics degree and gained a graduate place at Cambridge University.
Over the New Year period from 1962 to 1963, he was diagnosed with a fatal degenerative condition known as motor neurone disease and given two years to live. Defying this, he went on to complete his graduate studies, get married and father three children. He also developed radical new theories about time, about mysterious objects known as black holes and even about the origins of the universe itself. Throughout these successes...