Being a Nerd

I recently learned about an intriguing consequence of quantum theory called the Bremermann Limit which states "no data processing system, whether artificial or living, can process more than 2 x 10^47 bits per second per gram of its mass". In other words, a computer the size of the earth, working since the earth first existed, can have processed an absolute maximum of 2.56 x 20^92 bits.

If you haven’t fallen asleep already, bear with me here. The limit means there are problems involving large numbers which are simply beyond the ability of anything to solve. This fascinated me so much that I’ve spent the majority of my waking hours for the past week thinking about it, and I have at last come to a spectacular conclusion: I am a nerd.

I remember having a similar experience when I was maybe 11 years old after reading an article on very large numbers in a collection of works by Isaac Asimov. I still remember very clearly the feeling I got reading the article and spent many nerdy hours pondering its various factoids. Sometimes when I visit my parents, I re-read the article and it gives me a lot of pleasure and reminds me of a simpler time when the joy of knowing stuff was not dulled by adult life.

I’m pretty sure I’ve always been a nerd. Apparently shortly after acquiring the power of speech, I became fascinated by electricity pylons and spent hours asking my mother innumerable questions concerning their function and construction, quickly exhausting her limited knowledge on the subject. I was dubbed "the Professor" in my first year of primary school (although I still remember leaving the crayons on the heater and them all melting... how humiliating), and a nerd for every subsequent year of my schooling.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am a human of extremely modest intellectual talents. During my PhD and post-doctoral study I met a number of people who left me dazzled in the magnificent glare of their brilliance. But a nerd I am, and a nerd I remain, for there is nothing I like doing better than sitting and thinking. In fact, I think one of the reasons I gave up my academic "career" was so I could have more time to think about the things I wanted to, without the clutter of Boltzmann’s equation, numerical viscosity and the constant sceptre of having one day to deal with simulating turbulent flow.

There are plenty of nerds out there: computer nerds, aviation nerds (of which I know an alarming number), tech-nerds, cross-stitch nerds, comic nerds, even eating whole roast chicken nerds… the list is pretty much endless. I’m a nerd’s nerd: the sitting on my arse and thinking nerd, the type of nerd with no purpose other than the addition of entropy to the universe.

I’ve been surprised to learn as I’ve grown older, that not only do a significant proportion of the population not engage in much thought, they don’t actually like thinking. (I almost succumbed to a temptation to rip into religion here, but I’d better not). I get an intense feeling of disquiet every time I come across someone who finds reading boring. Boring?! If I had the chance, I’d spend pretty much all my time reading and contemplating.

Being able to ponder stuff, any stuff, is what makes life worth living to me but it can be a burden and I suspect it can be tough on some of those closest to me. It occurs to me that having someone around with his nose constantly in a book or gazing apparently vacuously into space is not always the best company, and for those who put up with me: I thank you.