Aliens & the Nested Universe.

Rather than extraterrestrials, some have speculated that the creatures from UFO abduction accounts may be of extradimensional, interdimensional or ultraterrestrial origin. These aliens originate not from outer space, in other words, but from what is generally known as hyperspace, which gives them room to move in and out of our three-dimensional (3D) space in directions we cannot even point to. While they could be both hyperspatial beings as well as extraterrestrial, there is also the possibility that they may exist alongside us on earth, though chiefly in extradimensional space that remains invisible to us.

In an effort to explore the notion that this exotic hyperspace is the true home of what we typically call aliens, I decided to make my best laymen’s attempt at exploring the concept. Hyperspace is a complex world, however, and I can only hope that what I offer here are signs that I have finally gained some clarity with respect to it.

There are, so far as I can tell, three general forms that hyperspace may take: that of a nested universe, a parallel universe or the wacky world of the Many Worlds Interpretation. The notion of a nested universe seems like the right place to start.

Currently it seems to be the consensus that we live in a geometrically flat, indefinitely-stretching existential fabric of 4D spacetime. Our space is comprised of three symmetrical spatial dimensions, allowing movement along three axes (arbitrarily labeled x,y,z) in any of the six cardinal directions they make accessible to us (east-west; north-south; up-down). Each of these spatial dimensions are an orthogonal extension of the other. A line is a one-dimensional object, its single axis providing length stretching in two directions; though its arbitrary, let us say that its length is in width and it can move east and west. If we extend a line into two dimensions, we get a square. Its two dimensional axis would provide length in width as well as depth and provide, alongside the directions of east and west, north and south as well. Extend a square into three dimensions, you get a cube that could then be measured in terms of its height, width and depth and move north, south, east, west, up and down.

Bound to these three dimensions of space is one dimension of time. Given the coordinate axis t, this temporal dimension is distinguished from our spatial triad in its unique, asymmetrical nature — which is to say it flows only “forward,” unidirectionally, pushing us away from the past and towards the future in the vessel of the omnipresent now. As both space and time are part of a continuum, they are inseparable strands the fabric of spacetime. One is always moving at varying speeds through spacetime with the upper limit on linear acceleration set at 671 million miles per hour.

When one speaks of any number of spatial dimensions in addition to the standard three, this is known as hyperspace. Assuming the existence of just one additional spatial dimension, then, we would extend a cube at right angles into the fourth dimension it becomes a hypercube known as a tesseract. It has length not only in height, width and depth but in spissitude. It can move not only in the aforementioned cardinal directions but also along the 4D axis, providing the bonus directions known as ana and kata.

Unfortunately, such nifty names fail to help one attempting to conceptualize hyperspace. Much of what you read online and in books when you’re struggling to understand the concept of extra spatial dimensions references Edwin Abbott’s 1884 work, Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, and adopts its use of dimension-down analogies.

Imagine, first, that I have an office. Now imagine that I walk into my office, sit down at my desk and look down upon what I first mistake for a sheet of paper with various shapes drawn upon it. Soon I notice that the shapes are moving about on the surface, however, which is kind of trippy, and that they are not drawn on so much as embedded within this 2D Flatland. No matter how close I bring my face to Flatland, for instance, they cannot see me, for they only know of north, south, east and west. Up and down simply do not exist for them.

If we now extend my position to some hyperspatial entity, some hyperbeing, our geometrically flat 3D Spaceland would have to be a universe nested within a greater Hyperspace much as Flatland is nested in Spaceland, specifically on the desk in my nonexistent office. This is because, judging from our lack of immediate and recognizable evidence of it, we can at least typically avoid interaction with this hypothetical hyperspace. Like Flatlanders unable to wrap their mind around our notions of up and down, us Spacelanders would be at a loss trying to conceive of ana and kata. Just as I am effectively invisible to the Flatlanders as I study them, so would a hyperbeing looking “down” (kata?) upon Spaceland, closely tracking and monitoring me.

The kind of perceptual range available to a higher-dimensional creature is also interesting to consider.

As I watch the Flatlanders, one square comes upon another square. It strikes me that not only am I invisible to them both, but that I can perceive them with a degree of totality that they would never be able to achieve in their own realm. Embedded in their plane, each of the squares might understand one another as squares, but they would only be capable of seeing one of the four lines of the other at once. Only by use of depth perception or by moving around the other square and seeing its other faces in seamless succession would its two-dimensionality be suggested. As a 3D Spacelander, of course, I see the two squares as wholes — that is, I see all sides, all four lines at once, adding up to one square “face” framing what it experiences as it’s inside.

Similar to the Flatlanders, however, I only catch suggestion of the 3D nature of a cube by means of my depth perception or seeing one of the cube’s six square faces. A tesseract would have 24 square faces — it would be comprised of eight cubes. A hyperbeing would see each of the 6-sided cubes as it rotated its tesseract just as I see each of the one-sided squares of the cube I’m moving around in my hands.

A hyperbeing would perceive me and the cube in my hand as I see the squares embedded on Flatland. Casually glancing my way, it would see all of my insides at every angle framed by every angle of my skin simultaneously. It would see the bald-spotted top, bottom, back and sides of my head along with my face, all pasty caucasian-colored surface packaging for the skull, eyes, brains, tongue and coffee-stained teeth. In this same way it would see me digesting my lunch. I could run from it, sure, but I would be a fool to think I could escape the all-seeing. There would be nowhere to hide. No matter how secure, how thick the walls, as it peers with its hyperdimensional eyes upon Spaceland it would easily see inside any locked building, any safe, and determine my location no matter how deep underground or high in the sky I am. There would be no privacy. It could track and monitor me from every angle at once and remain entirely undetectable.

The NSA has shit on a hyperbeing.

Despite this apparent perceptual boundary between a nested universe and its extradimensional space, direct interactions between them and their inhabitants are often a focal point in the literature. All examples take for granted the ease with which a higher-dimensional being would be capable of penetrating a lower dimensional plane and effecting its inhabitants. This strikes me as strange given that, as previously described, the shapes are embedded into the fabric of Flatland. Not only do they have no perception of up and down, they are inseparable from and therefore intrinsically bound to their nested, 2D space. They are drawn “in” rather than “on” that sheet-of-paper universe on my desk. You and I and everything else in our Spaceland is embedded within our 3D space, too — we are not resting “on” it. Even so, it could also be a matter of having the necessary technology to penetrate the nested universe.

It may be possible that rather than penetrating the nested universe a higher-dimensional entity would need what we could call “surrogates” or “avatars”. One could adopt an existing lower-dimensional being and utilize them as a medium. They may also adopt the style often attributed to the poltergeist: they could draw and manipulate energy in order to create an “avatar” to work through. Alternatively, one could inspire the members of the lower-dimensional space to construct a tulpa or egregore for them to work through.

Regardless as to whether they are direct contacts or ones accomplished through lesser-dimensional mediums, particular characteristics of their manifestations, if recognized for what they are, may betray their higher-dimensional nature to lesser-dimensional witnesses.

One such characteristic may be the seamless nature of their constructs. If I turn my attention to a group of circles constructing a square house on Flatland, I find that they do this by bringing together countless “dots” to form a square. However laborious this process is for them, I do not have to go through the same, tedious process. All I have to do is grab the interdimensional Sharpie on the table nearby and draw a seamless square. Even so, my square is also composed of countless dots, each of which are composed of dots, and so on, though all dots comprise and constitute the continuous lines that make up the circle. By extension, we would need to gather material to form a sphere — material ultimately composed of countless points called atoms, composed of points called electrons, protons and neutrons, made up of still smaller points, all of which are at once continuous waves that comprise and constitute the sphere. Still, my circle is cooler because it’s seamless and, without breaking a sweat, I could construct it in a jiffy.

By extension, however, it should be just as easy, natural and sensible for a hyperbeing to draw a seamless globe through an analogous process. Creating seamless objects would be as natural a consequence of their hyperspatial nature as the capacity for drawing a seamless circle would be for us. This may help explain the frequently-described seamless nature of both the exterior and interior of the alien craft, strangely devoid of sharp corners to the extreme that the chairs and tables seem molded into the floors. The same logic would apply to the seamless clothing they are often reported to be wearing.

Just as I could step in, or given its size perhaps just poke my finger into the center of the circle I had drawn, a hyperbeing could “step” in and out of their craft or their clothing — or even step through them. Walking through walls and other solid matter would be no more difficult for them than it would be for a basketball to roll through a square drawn in colored chalk on the pavement.

Another suggestion of their higher-dimensional nature may be their shadows. Though they could not see me directly, if I turned on the lamp behind me and let it cast my shadow across Flatland, would they see it? Would they see a 2D shadow betraying the presence of 3D me? Say that I held up a transparent cube near Flatland and shined a light behind it: the Flatlanders would see two boxes superimposed over one another, each of their corners connected by lines — what we would call a Necker cube. If I wanted to get them to grasp what I was and where I came from, that might be one way to do it. If all of this could be extended to our relations with hyperspace, we would then see the 3D shadow of 4D hyperbeing as it observes us from hyperspace. We could even be an audience for a 3D shadow-puppet show, I suppose. Could there be a strange logic behind the reports of “shadow people”? We would see the shadows of a transparent hypercube as a cube within a cube, attached to one another by lines at all corresponding corners. In either case, a rotating cube or hypercube may give the lower-dimensional being a better chance of getting the message, as it would be executing strange behavior.

Another possibility is having them walk on the 2D surfaces of a 3D object. For instance, if I were to rest a cube upon Flatland, they would only see a square — only the 1D faces of it, actually. And while they could not perceive the fact that they were walking upward at a right angle, they could nonetheless travel across all six 2D faces of it. That is to say that if they walked at this square they would not slam into it but rather travel up the face they had been unable to directly perceive, and ultimately all five of them. In this case, our analogous experience with a hypercube might be easier to understand directly. Imagine that a house in the form of 4D hypercube were brought down upon Spaceland. We would just see a regular house, but upon walking into the house we would find it composed of eight rooms, each as large as the house appeared to be from the outside. This may tie in with a pattern in abduction cases reported to various researchers in which the inside of the craft is reportedly bigger than the outside.

If the squares had covered all six faces of the cube I embedded on their plane several times, finally exiting and returning to familiar territory, we could go a step further in trying to help them conceptualize our higher-dimensional space. As they stare at the visible square face of the cube from outside of it, they are of course perplexed: how could that single house contain six times the space as implied by the size of it from the outside? Before their very eyes I could then unfold the cube into its 2D components, the single house manifesting, one by one, identical houses that served as “additions” to it in a cross-shaped formation of six squares. With respect to the 4D hypercube, if it were unfolded I would see the aforementioned house as the base for a fucked up looking skyscraper composed of seven other sections of equal size. It is stacked four houses high, with the third floor accompanied by four additional sections attached to it at all sides.

I could then go on to make more direct contact, and this is typically described as being accomplished in one of three fashions. First is by means of cross-sections. It is generally imagined that if a 3D object somehow managed to penetrate Flatland, the shapes would experience the object in essentially the same way they would an object native to their 2D environment, which is to say they would only see its 1D faces. That said, the object would appear to have bizarre qualities. If I took my two hands and punctured my ten fingers into Flatland, for example, the living shapes would see ten fleshy circles (in line-face) appear out of nowhere in two roughly-symmetrical formations of five.

Now imagine how curious Flatlanders in the vicinity might experiment with this strange phenomenon they are observing and how they might interpret the results. If a triangle poked one of the fleshy circles, for instance, it might notice how all ten of them immediately moved in unison, as if jointly reacting with surprise. What affected one, it seemed, affected them all. Communication between them was impossibly immediate and operated through an unknown medium. The fleshy circles seemed to be able to pop in and out of existence at will as I dipped my fingers in and out of their 2D plane. Imagine now that I dig my fingers of one hand in even deeper, until first my knuckles penetrated the plane, then my wrists. What would the Flatlanders see? Five fleshy, pasty, bony Caucasian circles — or 1D faces of them — slowly growing, then merging into one fleshly, bony oval, then shrinking, growing a bit, shrinking again. I’m kind of hairy, and that would doubtlessly fuck with them, too.

Hyperspatial objects and entities may then appear to us as multilocational, shapeshifting, growing and shrinking, splitting and merging, appearing and disappearing ambiguous 3D forms that offer no real suggestion as to their actual, hyperspatial nature. While this may not explain the reported aliens very well, it certainly does provide an explanation for some of the more peculiar phenomena exhibited by their craft, which have often appeared and disappeared, split and merged before eyewitnesses.

Second is by means of “peeling”. Typically it is described how I, for instance, could be expected to just casually peel a square off of Flatland despite the fact that it is embedded in its surface. Michio Kaku echoes the ease with which the process is typically described in his analogy regarding picking up a fish out of a pond. By extension, the suggestion would be that I could be just as easily peeled off Spaceland by a hyperbeing, vanishing into thin air before the eyes of any fellow Spacelander that might be looking. Psychic surgery would be simple: see a tumor, pluck it out. If the tumor was neglected, an autopsy would be unnecessary. For them our knots would not be. Childbirth would be an extradimensional breeze, requiring neither cesarean nor parting of the meat drapes.

Third, there are folds (or warps) and wormholes. Imagine I were able to pick Flatland up off my desk and fold it so that two areas a considerable distance across come to touch: would a Flatlander be able to cross the crease of the fold and, in the eyes of its fellow Flatlanders, move a great distance in a single moment, having disappeared from one place and reappeared in another? This would be a “warp” to the extreme and would constitute what is typically referred to as teleportation.

More popularly, a similar process is conceived in which the space is not only folded but a hole is punctured through both sides, allowing a Flatlander to walk through a circle and emerge out of another circle some distance away. This is usually called a wormhole, though more popularly both “mouths” or circles are described as being connected by a “neck.” Although this tube does not offer instantaneous travel to your destination, it takes the Flatlander traversing it a much shorter time to reach the other side than it would if it were to travel in typical linear mode. A wormhole in Spaceland would be not a circle, as the movie Interstellar depicted, but a sphere.

Folds and wormholes could also be utilized as a means of transporting a Flatlander not to a different location on their plane, but to another surface altogether. In other words, to parallel universes…


Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, Edwin Abbott (1884).
Rob Bryanton, “Imagining 10 Dimensions” (YouTube).
Jim Dekorne, “The Out-of-Body Experience as Dimensional Translocation,” (New Dawn magazine No. 74, Sept-Oct. 2002).
Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps and the 10th Dimension, by Michio Kaku (1994).
Thad Roberts, “Visualizing Eleven Dimensions” (YouTube, TEDxBoulder).


Sophia the Untouchable.

Absolute nothing is a fertile field.

If a universe Big Banged ex nihilo once, then it may have happened countless times before. Universes may still be Banging away into existence as you read this, all of them doing so in a direction you can’t point to (with all of this dependent on time having any meaning outside the context of a given universe and in the superspace that contains the hypothetical multiverse). We would perceive but one universe in a vast multiverse — and not much of that one universe, it would seem.

Current estimations hold that our universe is composed of 68.3% dark energy and 26.8 percent dark matter — substance we can neither grab nor perceive makes up most of everything, and apparently we are not a part of it. The normal matter that is accessible to our senses (and of which our senses are composed) presently makes up only 4.9% of our cosmic pie (in a potential superspace bakery).

This is not to suggest that our senses are sensitive to so much as a considerable fraction of that 4.9%, of course. We have a set amount of senses among those available in the animal kingdom, each picking up but a narrow range of a specific type of signal. This data is edited by our subliminal beliefs and values, integrated and finally translated by genetically-hardwired processes. This translation is stored in sensory memory and subsequently and involuntarily recalled by consciousness in working memory. Only then does it become our “immediate” experience.

All we know of the external world derives from what we “remember” regarding what our body experiences. As a consequence, our Here and Now is truly There and Before. Even at our most attentive we have no hope of living in the moment; we are forever riding its coattails. We are all living in the past and no one is ever right where they are standing now.

When your body’s memory of the moment passes by working memory, it might be stored in long term memory, from which consciousness in working memory might summon it through retrieval cues. When long term memory swallows something, however, it seems to in some sense digest it, break it down, dismember it — and so recall always involves creativity on the part of the recollector, as memories must be literally “re-membered.” To some degree one always incorrectly recalls past events and may even go so far as to produce “false memories,” which is to say one recalls events that never even happened in the first place.

Despite this, memory serves as the backbone for our sense of identity and our understanding of the world. Long-term memory suggests the temporal dimension, which is the only way we can make sense of the spatial dimensions suggested by sensory memory. Our reliance upon memory is inescapable. We require it to compile and associate data, scientific or otherwise. If we are honest, all that any of us ever know is memory, and all memory is ultimately false memory.

Even what we accept as imagination and fantasy is dependent upon the ingredients supplied by memory: it is no coincidence that the way in which we experience anything subjectively has analogues to our biological experience. Inner-senses are modeled after our biological senses and for all we know reveal our true consciousness as accurately and completely as our biological senses do with respect to external reality.

We try to make sense out of our external experience and so form worldviews; we try to make sense out of our internal experience and its relation to external experience and so form identity. As a consequence of our worldviews, we tend to conform our experience to them, and so further obscure our sense of reality. As a consequence of our identity, we tend to conform our internal experience in such a way that it reinforces our identifications. In so doing, we further obscure our sense of self. To make matters worse in both cases, this fatal flaw is the law and it is followed without exception: we can do no more, no less, if we have any hope to survive.

Lifeline for the Double-Blind.

Physicists and cosmologists both have come to seriously entertain notions that our universe may in fact be part of a multiverse, and the implication is that our universe may be but a small part. 

 When it comes to our universe, human beings were a little late to the party. Carl Sagan compressed the entire history of our universe, from the Big Bang New Years Day until New Years Eve now, into a single calendar year. Our recorded history, he tells us, would comprise only the final seconds in the very last minute of December 31st.
In our present universe, according to current estimates, dark energy makes up 72% of the universe, dark matter makes up 23% and our familiar matter a mere 4.6%. We are, then, a small, late part of our universe, which may itself be a small part of a vast multiverse. 
Our senses each pick up a certain type and range of signal from the roughly four percent of the objective universe to which the body belongs. Our senses then influence one another, as in how the sense of smell effects the sense of taste. Our sense signals are then translated into a species-specific symbolic perception. This perception is in turn influenced or sabotaged by a coupling of present conceptions and memory.
Our memories of these perceptions are influenced by other past perceptions and are further contaminated by our present state of mind.
So no, I won’t “just have faith.” I will examine, I will question, I will uproot what my culture holds sacred and examine and challenge my own fundamental axioms as well. 
No one can trust their perceptions. No one can trust their memory. 
Experiments suggest that we cannot even trust the timing of our decision-making, nor that our conscious thinking and emotional evaluation processes gave birth to it.
We try to overcome obstacles that keep us from directly contacting reality, that keep us from directly contacting ourselves. A meat-machine tries to pierce through the thick veil to achieve greater understanding of the universe at large through use of strategy, methodology, and the creation and use of technology.
He first sees if others have found some of the answers he seeks. If so, that will save him time and will no doubt inspire further questions to be explored. If they have not found the answers, they will provide inspiration for his own ideas.
The idea may not be born rational, but that is the quality of the hypothesis that results. He then experiments to falsify or verify. He leaves the fate of his ideas in the hands of the experiment’s ultimate feedback. Going on to revise ideas if found wrong, or test further to ensure we’re as right as it at first seems. 
That’s the only hope we have of taking so much as a glimpse beyond the thick cocoon of maya standing between self and reality, self and self.