The answer is in the movie. When explaining the Matrix to Neo, Morpheus says: “There are fields, endless fields, where human beings are no longer born, we are grown.”
Unfortunately I cannot forget even a second of The Matrix.
Fortunately, I don’t need to. It’s like listening to this yet again. It’s beautiful even though I know every note and can listen to the whole thing in my head any time I want: youtu.be/LZ48G9UziRs?si=WdHnkS5bvDNdF1wv
Unfortunately we can never experience the big reveal for the first time again. It was absolutely mind-blowing watching him wake up in the pod on the big theater screen for the first time. That was the coolest movie experience I’ve ever had.
It also refers to a 2D array of numbers in linear algebra. This data structure is used to store the synaptic weights of an artificial neural network.
We have only bits and pieces of information but what we know for certain is that at some point in the early twenty-first century all of mankind was united in celebration. We marveled at our own magnificence as we gave birth to AI.
What if reincarnation? When someone dies in the Matrix, their body gets reconnected to another baby in the Matrix. As for how the human population is maintained outside of the Matrix… either the machines keep catching more humans, or something like artificial insemination. Or cloning
That would actually be a good idea. With people growing up and learning on their own, you don’t have a fully controlled system. The world inside the Matrix will be evolving and from time to time there will be some glitch somewhere. If you have a base of defined childhoods, then only physical differences between bodies and random occurences inside are uncontrolled
If I were to construct the Matrix, I would go after cloning (fewer biological lottery) and predefined lifepaths to keep everything nice and stable
Exposing what is mortal and unsure to all that fortune, death and danger dare, even for an eggshell. Isn’t there something in that?" he asked, looking up at Mustapha Mond. “Quite apart from God–though of course God would be a reason for it. Isn’t there something in living dangerously?”
“There’s a great deal in it,” the Controller replied. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”
“What?” questioned the Savage, uncomprehending.
“It’s one of the conditions of perfect health. That’s why we’ve made the V.P.S. treatments compulsory.”
“V.P.S.?”
“Violent Passion Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the inconveniences."
“But I like the inconveniences.”
“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”
“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen to-morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.” There was a long silence.
“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he said
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