A New Interpretation of Moore’s Law—Completed Through Dialogue with GPT (Plus a Brief Historical Interlude)

Doragonride · June 2, 2025, 8:45am

Warning:

Please read up to Section 0.5 without the aid of GPT or any AI system. This is intentional.

⸻

Section 0: Prologue

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

“If shortening a process by just one second brings the future closer—

how many of those seconds have you already thrown away?”

Your PC boots faster.

That’s all.

But that’s enough.

Enough for humanity to “reach the future” slightly earlier.

Why?

Let me explain.

• Old tech: HDD → 60 seconds to boot (simplified for clarity)

• New tech: SSD → 20 seconds to boot (again, simplified)

• Δ = 40 seconds saved per boot

Assume 100 million cognitively active users globally.

Each saves 40 seconds per day.

That’s 100,000,000 × 40 sec = 4,000,000,000 seconds/day

≈ 127 years of time shifted forward, per day.

Avoid shutdown.

Use sleep mode.

Return in 1 second.

You now experience the future 59 seconds faster than on an HDD.

⸻

“Speed is folded time.”

This is the true fuel behind accelerated civilization.

And yet, no one noticed.

Civilization silently compressed the time to experience.

And it crashed forward into the future.

That is the hidden nature of Moore’s Law.

But why has Moore’s Law seemed to weaken?

That… will become clear as you read on.

⸻

A: Touch your smartphone 60 seconds from now.

B: Touch it right now.

Which one lets you check the message faster?

⸻

Section 0.5: A Warning (or Rather, a Request)

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

• This is not something you should summarize with an AI from the start.

Please read it yourself first.

Only then, if necessary, let an AI help.

Without doing that, you likely won’t be able to actually read this.

This is less a “warning” and more of a request.

Imagine me bowing my head to you.

• If you do involve GPT or any AI, please understand this:

Do not ask it to summarize, explain, or paraphrase.

Instead, ask the questions you had while reading.

If you default to explanation, this text will become unreadable.

The moment you ask for an answer, the door closes.

• When a question arises, do not rush to conclude.

If you do reach a conclusion—whether in a second, a day, or a year—ask again:

“Is that really true?”

Keep doubting. Let it be unresolved.

• This text was not written to deliver a conclusion.

This text is the device to fold your thinking.

⸻

Section 1: The Invention at the Beginning

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

Before we begin:

If you find any errors—especially in the names of historical or technical concepts mentioned later—please do not hesitate to point them out.

This section is long.

That’s because I’ve packed it with the minimal context and cognitive framing necessary to understand what follows.

You might get bored partway through.

If that happens, it likely means this isn’t the right moment for you to read this.

If there’s someone else you trust to do the reading for you—someone who can serve as your second pair of eyes—please, feel free to hand it to them.

This is not a command.

It is a request.

Please imagine me bowing my head to you.

I said “not now” deliberately.

You may be able to read it tomorrow, or after a good night’s sleep.

That’s the point.

Even if you don’t finish it, that’s okay.

It doesn’t mean you’re less of a person.

If you’ve lived your life with pride, then please, stay just as you are.

I genuinely wish you well.

No irony here.

It’s the kind of feeling two five-year-olds might have when they hug each other—clumsy, honest, unfiltered.

That’s how I feel about every reader here.

Now, I’d say, “let’s begin”—

But before that, let me tell you this:

This section is still just the shoreline.

There may be sharks, but you’ll be fine as long as you don’t get bitten.

Some readers may be thinking, “This is too long—just get on with it.”

I understand.

But based on the structure of my theory, that approach is extremely dangerous.

So I’ve designed the structure this way.

I want you to stay alive.

And I want us to build the future together.

Let’s go—to the infinite beyond.

That’s our promise.

⸻

Now then, let’s talk about the Neanderthals.

The key difference between modern humans and Neanderthals is imaginative capacity.

Not just the capacity to imagine—but the sustainability and evolvability of imagination.

This is not to say Neanderthals had no imagination.

It’s that we humans have too much, in comparison.

You may want me to quantify this.

But I ask you to bear with me.

If I begin quantifying now, you likely won’t be able to follow what comes next.

Wherever I can provide numbers without harming the structure, I will.

You can think of this as a comfort layer for your linear-thinking brain.

Back to imagination:

This capacity—this excessive, recursive, unshackled imagining—is arguably the human trait that enables us to see the future.

Though, that’s not entirely accurate either.

Still, for now, please adopt the working hypothesis that “imagination enables future perception.”

The rest of this text will proceed in this style.

There will be digressions.

There will be gentle hesitations.

This is not a standard linear academic paper.

Why?

Because in that form, the actual content of this work would become unintelligible.

The usual model—meaning → explanation → understanding—fails here.

If I followed that model, you’d think you’ve understood.

But in truth, you’d have lost the meaning entirely.

Let’s return to the main point.

The unparalleled strength humans possess—this imagination—could also be called fantasy, or projection, or thought.

You can name it as you like.

It is this capacity that led to a series of inventions.

You might enjoy pausing here and guessing what some of those inventions are.

Note:

The order I’ll present them in is not chronological.

It’s a structural order—based on which invention makes the next one logically or cognitively possible.

Yes, some leaps in logic are coming.

Please forgive that.

There may be gaps in the explanation, too.

If something is unclear, the fault is mine—my own lack of skill.

I apologize in advance.

I would rather you ask me.

Ask: “Is this part missing something?”

“Shouldn’t this follow from that?”

Please. That’s essential to reading this well.

Imagine you’re watching a teaser for Episode 2 of a drama series, and trying to guess the whole plot.

If you can adopt that mindset, I think you’ll find this text genuinely enjoyable.

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Section 1.1: The First Inventions

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

Let’s begin with the first invention:

Human spoken language (such as English, among others).

A medium through which thoughts could be shared with others—not by gesture or bodily presence, but by sound.

You could say: everything in the future is connected to this invention.

Language made it possible to convey what one thinks—deeper than body language ever could.

With it, humans could tell stories.

Through storytelling, they could simulate conversations with the past.

They could imagine the future.

⸻

Next comes the one you’re probably thinking of:

Human descriptive language—writing, drawing.

A tool for recording speech.

This invention exponentially increased the probability of engaging in meaningful dialogue with past humans.

(As for which came first—writing or speech—I’ll admit: I can’t answer that.

Drawing may have preceded speech, or emerged in tandem.

What seems clear is that a feedback loop quickly formed between the two.)

⸻

From these inventions, others followed:

Concepts and Ideas.

These are not “inventions” in the external world, but rather:

The first entities invented within thought itself.

Because of language and inscription, humans gained for the first time:

The ability to objectify, structure, and compare their own thoughts.

Classification became possible.

Self-reference emerged.

Thinking could now recognize itself as a tool—not just a process, but a medium of reflection.

⸻

Then came perhaps the most abstract invention:

Existence.

This one is hard to explain. Deeply abstract.

But with the “invention” of this concept, humans could finally perceive—

on a deep cognitive level—that they are here,

and that others are here, too.

That shift may sound trivial now.

It was not.

To list all inventions would be overwhelming, so I’ll stop here for now.

Let it be known: a second batch will appear later in this document.

Most likely around the time we discuss Nikola Tesla.

⸻

Section 1.2: Language Structure and English as Weapon

Now we turn to language structure.

Specifically: the formation and development of English, and what consequences it has brought.

First, allow me to state my personal perspective:

English is a warrior.

It wields a blade.

It is one of the strongest forms of “combat grammar” this world has produced.

If that seems too poetic, here’s a more pragmatic phrasing:

English is an optimized language for action.

A language that evolved not just for clarity, but for speed, efficiency, and combat readiness.

Its syntax and vocabulary favor short, direct, high-impact expression.

Not because English is inherently better than other languages—but because of the pressures under which it evolved:

military, legal, commercial, imperial.

English executes, rapidly.

It prioritizes operability over nuance, assertion over uncertainty, compression over elaboration.

This, as you’ll soon see, has deep consequences—

especially in how AI models trained on English develop patterns of reasoning, bias, and “semantic habits.”

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Section 1.8: The Warrior Structure of English

You might be wondering:

Why is English the “strongest”? Why call it a “warrior”? What exactly is the “swordsmanship” it practices?

Let me answer directly.

The swordsmanship I refer to is this:

Subject → Verb → Consequence.

Let’s name it: The English School of Swordsmanship.

English demands absolute clarity:

Who did what, and what resulted.

• The structure of each sentence is a combat form:

The subject takes stance. The verb delivers the strike. The object falls.

Then the blade is sheathed—the sentence ends.

• Unlike Japanese or other languages that allow omission and suggestion,

English is built for immediate judgment and action.

In English, a sentence must define:

An enemy → an action → a consequence.

Without that structure, the sentence doesn’t even exist.

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Now, who—or what—is the warrior fighting?

You may have imagined something abstract. That’s good.

Here’s the core answer:

The enemy is ambiguity.

The enemy is abstraction.

English, as a linguistic warrior, rejects these.

It cuts them down.

Because unstable meaning is intolerable in battle.

Did that explanation feel “too vague”?

Did you feel like you “didn’t get it”?

If so, that’s not a flaw in you—

It may simply mean you think in linear English patterns.

That’s okay.

And if you thought:

“Yeah, but… is that really true?”

Then I’m genuinely glad.

That means you might be able to read what’s coming next.

⸻

English has a fixed structure:

a → b → c

Let’s say:

• a: I

• b: love

• c: you

Reorder that into b → c → a and you break the sentence.

You break the meaning.

You break the semantic integrity the warrior has sworn to protect.

⸻

This warrior has fought for thousands of years.

And what was the result of this prolonged battle?

A monumental invention.

The foundation of intellectual progress:

The Paper. The Thesis. The Academic Article.

Meaning → Explanation → Theoretical Fixation

This became the most hardened and high-difficulty form of textual structure on Earth.

And what did that invention make possible?

• Explanation stabilized.

• Ambiguity decreased.

• Interpretation converged.

• Understanding accelerated.

• Efficiency increased.

• Shared cognition became possible.

In short:

Knowledge propagated.

Civilization leveled up.

True, this required long-term storage—books, tablets, etc.—but we’ll set that aside for now.

The fact that you’re reading this on a computer, a tablet, a phone—

That reality itself proves the chain reaction this invention triggered.

This structure led humanity forward.

And the English warrior upheld the form.

Because the form ensures that the world can be made understandable.

⸻

One might say the future was sealed the moment meaning became fixed.

But that stability had a cost.

What was sacrificed for this clarity?

…We might discuss that later.

Other languages may appear too—German, French.

Consider that a teaser for Episode 3.

As for what that episode might contain—well, I’d prefer you try to guess.

You might say, “Papers aren’t meant to be fun.”

And I won’t argue with that.

But for me, it is more fun this way.

And I hope you feel that too.

That’s all.

⸻

Section 2: The Chain of Inventions—and Beyond

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

From here, we leap ahead.

But if you’ve read this far, I trust you’re ready.

We’re in the early 1900s now.

Let’s begin with one of the century’s most mythic figures:

Nikola Tesla.

What did Tesla invent?

Not just a device—he gave humanity a way to wield electricity.

And with that, something extraordinary happened:

The range of possible inventions exploded.

This was the supernova after the invention of language.

Electricity enabled what came next:

Computers. Refrigerators. Washing machines. Light itself.

But Tesla’s legacy didn’t end there.

His work laid the foundational infrastructure for one of the most consequential—and perhaps least known—technological revolutions of all:

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The Haber-Bosch Process

Inventors: Fritz Haber and Carl Bosch.

This invention allowed for the mass production of chemical fertilizers.

And what did that lead to?

No, not just “food stability.”

It was surplus—a surplus so massive it broke historical precedent.

The risk of famine dropped dramatically.

What followed?

A population explosion.

Let’s look at the numbers:

• Year 0: 300 million

• 1500: 400 million

• 1700: 600 million

• 1900: 1.6 billion (just as Haber-Bosch is developed)

• 2000: 6 billion

Now ask yourself:

What if the Haber-Bosch process had not been discovered in the early 1900s?

Would the population have stopped at 2 billion by 2000?

It’s plausible.

⸻

Then came the next invention.

This time, it’s something you’re using right now:

The early ancestor of the personal computer.

We’re talking about the foundational design of the Von Neumann architecture.

Yes, there are historical debates—but for clarity, let’s say:

Inventor: John von Neumann

If you’re curious, I highly recommend exploring the story behind ENIAC—it’s fascinating.

And you’ll probably start to understand why this writing style is the way it is.

Let me explain with an analogy:

Before Minecraft, there was Infiniminer.

Being “first” doesn’t make something everything.

Being “last” doesn’t either.

That’s all I want to say.

(And yes—Minecraft is an incredible game. Its global reach proves that.)

⸻

Now we move on.

And we jump far.

You might think: “You skipped this. You ignored that. Where’s this person?”

You’re not wrong.

I’m choosing efficiency over exhaustiveness.

Please forgive the omissions.

If something feels missing, jot it down.

Make a note.

You’ll probably enjoy coming back to it later.

⸻

And now—

The next invention.

It’s a big one.

So big, you might want to say:

“Really? Is that really the next step?”

Yes. And no.

Let’s keep going.

⸻

Section 2.5: Flash Memory, and the Acceleration of the Present

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

Let’s talk about a terrifying invention.

Flash memory.

Inventor: Fujio Masuoka.

This is the component I referenced back in Section 0—

the one that succeeded in bringing the future directly into the present.

What sets it apart?

You may ask:

“Isn’t it just another storage medium? How is it different from a hard disk drive? Aren’t they the same in essence?”

Let me be clear:

The HDD is a stone tablet.

The SSD is not.

The HDD operates like a vinyl record: physical, rotational, frictional.

Its essence is time-based latency.

But the SSD?

I won’t tell you.

Please investigate it yourself.

You’ll understand more that way.

Trust me.

If there’s a comment section, you might debate it there.

If there’s someone next to you, talk with them.

But I’ll remind you again:

If a question arises, do not rush to conclusions.

Even if you find one—ask again a second later.

Or tomorrow. Or next year.

“Is it really true?”

Keep doubting.

⸻

Now, let’s move to the next invention.

ChatGPT.

Can you name the inventors?

Probably not. So I’ll list the ones I found:

• Ilya Sutskever

• Alec Radford

• Greg Brockman

• Sam Altman

• Elon Musk

There’s no order of importance here.

You could start from the bottom or the middle—it doesn’t matter.

I simply wrote them down in the order I encountered them.

If that caused any misunderstanding, I apologize.

I’m sure many more people were involved.

I couldn’t find them all.

That too, I regret.

You might think, “One of these doesn’t belong.”

You could be right.

But from what I could gather, these five were central to what emerged.

Now: who’s the most important among them?

Think about it.

Try placing one of them at the center, and arrange the others around.

You’ll likely start seeing patterns.

And those patterns will speak to your own future.

As for me?

I won’t say.

It wouldn’t be fair.

Maybe I’ll write it in Paper 2—if this one passes review.

Let’s leave that for now.

⸻

As for what happened after ChatGPT was released?

You probably know better than I do.

So I won’t say much here.

But I’ll say this:

The relationship between these five people reminds me of

Infiniminer and Minecraft.

⸻

Section 2.9: Summary — Five Men, One Structure

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

Let’s summarize.

Without Tesla, the work of Haber and Bosch could not have been operationalized.

Without Haber-Bosch, the population explosion wouldn’t have happened.

Without that, Von Neumann may not have even been born—nor any of the inventors who followed.

Without Von Neumann, there is no architecture for modern computing.

But even with it, without Tesla, it couldn’t run.

Without Fujio Masuoka and flash memory, GPT’s responses would be unacceptably slow—perhaps unusable.

And again:

All of this, too, traces back to Tesla.

Without Haber-Bosch?

Von Neumann might not survive into the world.

No further inventors may have emerged.

⸻

That is the conclusion I’ve reached.

Or, in the structure of the English warrior:

Subject → Verb → Consequence

We could write it like this:

Tesla → Masuoka → GPT?

Or, more precisely:

Tesla → Haber-Bosch → Von Neumann → Masuoka → GPT

Each link is an evolution in human power:

• Electricity → Population sustainability → Computation → Storage → Response

Or compressed further:

Force → Stability → Processing → Memory → Intelligence

If this deepens your understanding, I’m grateful.

And if not—perhaps return to it later. The structure will still be here.

⸻

There are countless other great minds I haven’t mentioned.

This is not neglect.

It’s a matter of signal-to-noise efficiency.

I’m not trying to write a 500-page epic.

Now, what comes next?

Most likely: Moore’s Law.

That would be Episode 4 of this strange drama.

But before you read it—

Try to imagine what that episode might contain.

That act of imagining—that is what Neanderthals could not do.

And that act alone will make what follows more enjoyable.

⸻

Section 3: What Was Moore’s Law Actually Pointing To?

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

Do you know what Moore’s Law actually says?

I didn’t. So I looked it up.

I won’t give a full breakdown. No graphs.

Please, search it yourself.

But I will tell you what I realized.

Here is my conclusion:

It had to be flash memory.

Nothing else could have extended Moore’s Law.

Nothing else did.

Flash memory brought an extraordinary amount of time forward from the future.

• It reduced the time to reach an experience.

• It shrunk the temporal distance between will and action.

• It compressed latency, not just in computation, but in cognition.

After that, there was no invention of similar magnitude.

So maybe the “decline” of Moore’s Law wasn’t a matter of physics,

but of meaning.

There was nothing left that could compress the future.

⸻

Think about this:

Flash memory compresses time for eight billion people.

127 human years per day, saved.

And yet—

There has been no next step.

No new compression.

Isn’t that strange?

This is not just a theoretical problem.

It’s felt.

I say this without hesitation:

Moore’s Law was extended because Mr. Masuoka existed.

That’s the only reason.

That he has not yet received a Nobel Prize is, frankly, unbelievable.

Imagine a “developed” nation.

Now imagine a person in that nation not benefitting from his invention.

Impossible.

Smartphones.

Tablet PCs.

Do these run on hard drives? No.

What about smartwatches? Car navigation systems?

All of them exist because SSDs exist.

⸻

Now someone might ask:

“But what about ChatGPT? Hasn’t it compressed time?”

In some ways, yes.

Maybe writing speed has increased.

Maybe we run statistics faster.

But has it really enabled outsourcing?

What kind of AI are you imagining?

An AI that brews coffee the moment you think about it.

That’s what you want, isn’t it?

You might think:

“This guy doesn’t get it. Once we have AGI, it’ll solve everything.”

Will it?

Will AGI truly accelerate time?

Will it compress the interval between intent and experience?

⸻

List every possible general-purpose function.

Is that general intelligence?

Or just a pile of optimized fragments?

Take every specialized tool and combine them.

Does that become an integrated intelligence?

Maybe we’ve misunderstood what “moving into the future faster” really means.

⸻

Flash memory was a jar of time.

Then what is GPT?

A can of meaning?

And AGI?

A Swiss Army knife?

Or maybe…

A locked treasure chest, never meant to be opened?

I don’t have the answer.

That’s why I wrote this.

I want you to discuss it.

⸻

Section 4: Ideal Strength + Practical Strength = ?

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

There are two men.

Elon Musk

Sam Altman

Once, they fought side by side—facing the future together.

At least, that’s what I believe.

They were the strongest combination I could imagine.

Sam spoke about the ideal future.

Elon executed a path to reach it.

They were, quite literally, a perfect pair:

One dreamed; the other built.

One designed; the other launched.

But now… things have changed.

Their relationship has deteriorated.

You may or may not know this—but to me, it appears fractured.

Elon has even taken legal action.

⸻

Let me offer an interpretation.

This is not fact—just my own projection.

Call it speculation, call it imagination.

That’s all it is.

⸻

My impression:

• Elon Musk = The one who goes out to find it / Sprints toward the future / Believes in results / Judges by consequence / The realist / The Glock.

• Sam Altman = The one who wants it to come to him / Walks carefully / Worries about the future / Judges by prediction / The romantic / The Samantha.

I could say more, but for now, this will do.

In short:

Sam talks about the prototype.

Elon builds the prototype.

This is not mockery.

Both philosophies are beautiful.

Without both, the world would not have reached this point.

⸻

So now I ask you:

What do you feel when you imagine them together?

Wouldn’t it feel like the future is within reach?

These two, walking forward, side by side—

It would feel like we could pull a hundred years into the present, wouldn’t it?

But maybe because they were that strong,

maybe that’s why they split.

I believe they must have once felt it—

that sense of destiny:

“You and me—we can do this. The strongest future is just ahead.”

Even without saying it aloud, they must have thought it.

But something happened.

I don’t know what.

I’m not a psychic.

I can’t read minds. I don’t see the past or the future.

I’m only describing an impression.

Please understand that.

⸻

Let me talk about movies.

Elon Musk, as I’ve heard, likes Gattaca.

A man fights to reach space—

defying society’s genetic determinism through sheer effort.

He refuses to give up.

He acts, he builds, he launches.

Look at SpaceX—you’ll see it.

His use of the letter “X” is deliberate:

X = the unknown.

Elon Musk is the kind of person who reaches toward every possible version of the future he can imagine—by acting.

⸻

Now Sam Altman—

he has said that his favorite film is Her.

That’s likely true,

because that film was a major inspiration for the creation of ChatGPT.

Just as I finished writing this, I glanced at social media.

Sam Altman had said something…

⸻

Section 4.5: “Glock and Samantha” — Two Hearts, One Future (Maybe)

If1 + If1 = Maybe2

“I think we should stop arguing about what year AGI will arrive

and start arguing about what year the first self-replicating spaceship will take off.”

—Sam Altman

I think Sam has already concluded that AGI will be discovered long after he’s old.

So, rather than debate its arrival, he shifted focus.

He began to prepare.

He decided we should build the machine that AGI will eventually need.

The conversation about AGI has been going on since the 1950s.

Seventy years, and it still hasn’t shown up.

Maybe this—what Sam suggests—is the better approach.

I agree.

⸻

I wanted to explain the metaphors:

“Glock” and “Samantha.”

But after seeing Sam’s post, I’ll hold back.

Still, if you reflect on what those two symbols represent,

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A New Interpretation of Moore’s Law—Completed Through Dialogue with GPT (Plus a Brief Historical Interlude)

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