The Intex Revelations Volume II: The Secret Story of Human Science: The Great Schism

Learn the tragic story of why science botched its understanding of autism—and the fundamental nature of reality.

The real trouble with this world of ours is not that it is an unreasonable world, nor even that it is a reasonable one. The commonest kind of trouble is that it is nearly reasonable, but not quite. Life is not an illogicality; yet it is a trap for logicians. It looks just a little more mathematical and regular than it is; its exactitude is obvious, but its inexactitude is hidden; its wildness lies in wait.       
   .G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

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In this article, we’ll explore the history of human science from an unorthodox perspective. A perspective revealing a profound and crippling bias in humankind’s grasp of the cosmos we inhabit. Recounting science’s story in this unfamiliar light will reveal how centuries-old decisions—made in good faith—channeled human inquiry into a misguided conception of our living existence. A conception preventing our species from fathoming the most impactful mysteries of the mind, such as consciousness, suffering, free will, language, and autism.

Fortunately, learning the hidden history of science as conducted by Homo sapiens will help us overcome these counterfeit impediments and empower us to grasp the beautiful and lucid truths about the uttermost nature of our soul.

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Before we unspool our bracing tale, I need share a relevant lesson from the intex puzzle that frames the chronicle to come.

Lesson Prime, let’s call it, for it is the puzzle’s most basic lesson—other than, perhaps, the reality-shattering epiphany posed by the mere existence of the puzzle within our mortal grasp.

Lesson Prime is one of the extraordinary puzzle’s most emphatic revelations, delivered repeatedly each time one experiences puzzle visions. I believe it to be the most fundamental insight into the nature of existence.

Celebrated physicist Richard Feynman proclaimed that the most useful and information-rich lesson to share with sentient creatures to help them make sense of our enigmatic universe is this:

All things are made of atoms.

Intex, however, substitutes a markedly different lesson:

Two fundamental dynamics interact to produce everything in our physical reality.

First, the dynamics of aimlessness. Physical activity without a goal. The dynamics of matter. Humans commonly refer to the study of these dynamics as physics.

The other, the dynamics of purpose. Physical activity pursuing a goal. The dynamics of Mind. Far less commonly, humans refer to the study of these dynamics as mindscience.

There is a neverending cosmic dance between the dynamics of matter and Mind that gives shape to our universe. The Cosmic Cycle: from out of matter, Mind is shaped. From out of Mind, matter is shaped.

To fathom our physical reality—to know how we came to be, feel, and know—we must understand this Cosmic Cycle. This is your birthright as a sentient being. But to break through to an understanding of the marvelous interplay of physics and purpose, we must first absorb an alternate chronicle of human science. We must discover why the very speed of scientific progress inadvertently and paradoxically threw up barriers hindering glorious revelations of the workings of autism and why we exist at all.

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We have no room for the mystical in science.
   .Adam Rutherford, A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived

Human science was conjured into existence by a bibliomancer.

A man who believed that he alone had penetrated the mysteries of Creation and acquired the high skill of interpreting God’s secret messages to humankind. A man who scorned the Church, the Virgin Mary, and the Christ child. A man whose relationship with the divine was so intimate he nurtured a private term of endearment for the math-loving deity whispering in his ear: Ancient of Days.

This man’s final body of written work—one of the most famous in all of history—contained far more words about alchemy and prophecy than the dynamics of matter, the dynamics of matter being the subject of a celebrated book that launched science on Earth and endowed its author with everlasting eminence: the Principia Mathematica. Its author, Isaac Newton of Lincolnshire.

Newton himself did not consider the Principia his most vital work, however. That mighty honor he bestowed on another tome: Observations upon the Prophecies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. John.

To me, the false caricature of Newton promulgated by living scientists as a champion of reason and negator of superstition is one of the most corrosive falsehoods embedded within the annals of science. This is not simply a matter of obscuring the true complexity of historic Newton from students learning Universal Gravitation and the Law of Action and Reaction. Living scientists, including prominent authors and popularizers of science, often assert that certain physical convictions promoted by Newton, central to the historic development of science, were grounded in reason and evidence rather than the true source of such beliefs:

Newton’s mystic faith in Ancient of Days.

One example is Newton’s notion of time. He believed time was absolute: a fixed backdrop for the dynamics of the world, always proceeding uniformly in a straight line. Many physicists contend or imply this conviction was rooted upon some principled mathematical conceptualization of the dynamics of matter. In truth, Newton required fixed time to support his notion of Armageddon-on-a-deadline: his deeply felt belief, articulated in The Prophecies of Daniel, that Ancient of Days planned to end the Earth as we know it on a specific date.

Here’s what I want to draw your attention to. In the desire to lionize and sanitize Newton for the science community, we have discarded what is most relevant and important about the fellow who kickstarted sapiens science. Through his revolutionary efforts to unriddle the dynamics of matter, Newton became the greatest mathematician on the planet. This is well known. But it is also true that through his revolutionary efforts to decode Ancient of Day’s secret plan for humankind, Newton became the greatest hierophant on Earth. A masterful, if perhaps deluded, interpreter of prophecy.

Newton saw no disconnect, no conflict between unraveling the mathematics of gravity and decrypting the clandestine word of God concealed in holy Scripture. So why do I think this intellectual paradox is important to acknowledge and appreciate?

Because many of the values and techniques that scientists reject as antithetical to the proper conduct of science—mysticism, bibliomancy, faith in an engaged and purposeful divinity—Newton fully and unabashedly embraced. Many scientists laud the notion that Newton slyly pursued rational science under the noses of the religious authorities he was compelled to publicly exalt; it’s more accurate to say Newton slyly pursued his own private notions of godhood and prophecy, a far more perilous endeavor in his age than the conduct of science.

Even scientists and scholars who acknowledge Newton’s mystic streak tend to argue that Newton discovered the secrets of motion not because of his irrational approach to interrogating reality, but despite it. But this gets Newton exactly wrong.

Consider what young Newton was up against: approximately the entire academic establishment of Europe was rooted in Christian faith and strict adherence to the Bible, including his own professors. Contradicting the Church was a ruinous prospect. Yet Newton was willing to risk ruin and incarceration to clutch hold of forbidden knowledge. He pursued what none had done before: the derivation of a mathematical account of gravity and motion from first principles.

In particular, he wished to mathematize the heavens, including the dynamics of all celestial bodies—a domain the Establishment believed to be exclusively governed by God. The notion that one could apply mortal reason to extract hidden truths about the heavens—truths unknown to Christendom—implied the existence of a radically different account of the nature of reality.

It is quite difficult to pursue a radically different account of the nature of reality entirely on one’s own. Particularly when such knowledge is considered blasphemous and risks permanent ostracism from one’s community. To blaze a trail through the apostate wilderness, one must hold supreme confidence in one’s convictions. It bolsters one’s self-assurance, immensely, to believe you commune directly with preternatural beings. One must believe that one is not merely pursuing the Earthly fruits of logic and reason, but gaining numinous access to the covert portals of Creation. Such motivation is needed to pursue the unprecedented, painstaking, clandestine, lonely work of overthrowing the consensus of your species regarding the basic operation of reality.

Please know, I am in no way dismissing or downgrading the indispensable importance of the familiar values of observation, experimentation, replication, and mathematization for Newton’s triumphant achievements. Without them, Newton would have remained a mere mystic, rather than Godfather of Human Science. Nevertheless, as we’ll learn in these articles, by exclusively sanctifying the rational qualities of Newton while concealing and disregarding his irrational qualities, the human institutions of science got led down the primrose path to a cosmic dead end.

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Communication across the revolutionary divide is inevitably partial.
   .Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions

After a sorcerer cast his enchantment upon the world and extracted humankind’s first true knowledge of the structure and flow of the universe, science was born. But there were not yet scientific disciplines. Not yet physics, biology, psychology. Instead, all of science was a seamless, expansive, unified approach to investigating Nature. Its practitioners did not refer to it as science, but natural philosophy.

Like Newton himself, natural philosophers approached the study of Creation holistically. A natural philosopher might study laughter and light and thermodynamics and thought as interwoven threads of the tapestry of Nature.

It didn’t take long, however, for Newton-baptized natural philosophers to realize that some of Nature’s knots were easier to unlace than others. Indeed, all the varied mysteries of the world appeared to fall into two distinct categories:

Easy and hard.

One domain of reality lent itself naturally to math that was intuitive and manageable, experiments that were practical and readily interpretable, and conversations between researchers that were productive and led to consensus. It turned out that all that was “easy” in natural philosophy was grounded in the dynamics of matter—not coincidentally the subject of Newton’s breakthrough Principia.

When studying aimless stuff—pendulums, pulleys, and prisms—it was possible to put a word to a phenomenon and define it clearly: mass, acceleration, frequency, charge. Once defined, a phenomenon could then be measured, discussed, mathematized. A community could form around common definitions, techniques, and equations. Sapiens supermind dynamics—tribalism—could then work its magic and empower the emergent community of like-minded pendulum investigators or electricity investigators to develop their subdiscipline collectively.

In more familiar terms, scientists studying aimless matter could share conversations, hold conferences, and publish papers in community journals that converged on a rough consensus of what was going on. It became possible to systematically and collaboratively study a broad range of aimless dynamics, such as surface tension, phlogiston, electrostatics, elasticity, miasma, sound, and light.

Nature’s other domain, however, proved nearly impervious to rational investigation: the dynamics of purpose. Thoughts and minds and language and evolution and divine will. These were all hard. Newton assembled a sturdy calculus to provide mathematical foundation for the new science of aimless matter. But what was the correct math for a science of purpose? Nobody had a clue.

Experiments for studying thoughts and feelings and perception were confusing and chaotic and failed to lead to consensus. Conversations about the dynamics of purpose—consciousness, morality, perception, meaning—were philosophical rather than empirical, and the post-Newton natural philosophers of Mind (such as Locke, Berkeley, Hume) are today considered philosophers rather than psychologists, though they were operating within the same Newton-inspired intellectual framework as the natural philosophers of matter (such as Halley, Euler, LaGrange). The reason that purpose and Mind could only be examined through literary essays and scholarly debates rather than experiments and math was because nobody could agree upon how to define or measure thoughts, perceptions, experiences, dreams, or divine manifestations, and therefore there was no basis for deriving a proper mathematics of Mind.

The dawning divide between the study of matter and the study of Mind instigated the Great Science Schism. A Schism whose impact remains overwhelming to this day. Including the suppression of a scientific understanding of autism.

After the Schism, the wide welcoming boulevard of natural philosophy split into the grand avenue of physical science and the meandering footpath of mindscience. Two tracks that merged never again.

Ultimately, the dynamics of matter were easier for the human mind and supermind to subdue because they surrendered their secrets to the firm application of reductionism. A forthright and easy-for-human-brains-to-understand process of breaking things down into smaller bits, then discerning the rules governing how little bits combined into bigger ones. Which is why it was entirely natural and appropriate for Richard Feynman to summarize the long history of physical science (which Feynman self-servingly imagined to be “all of science”) as Everything is made of atoms.

Mastering the dynamics of Mind, in contrast, required a wholly different mode of inquiry. One that Newton the Hierophant would have been well-suited for.

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Let’s be crystal clear as to why Newton and no other human soul must be considered the progenitor of Earthborn science:

Unifications.

The true mark of understanding—the ultimate validation and ultimate triumph—is taking two separate domains of knowledge and demonstrating, to everyone’s surprise, they are in fact two distinct facets of a single phenomenon.

Isaac Newton launched the greatest run of unifications in the history of our species. And it all began with his own triumphant unification—the very first by a primate:

The unification of heaven and Earth within a common mathematical framework dubbed Universal Gravitation.

Prior to Newton, it was believed that the rules governing Earth were different than the rules governing celestial phenomena. The terrestrial domain and the astronomical domain were believed to be fundamentally distinct.

But Newton showed that planets and moons obeyed the same rules as apples and anvils. The dynamics of matter up there was the same as the dynamics down here.

From Newton’s promising start it became possible to unify ever more subdomains of the dynamics of aimless matter into a common mathematical framework through the method of reductionism. Here is an incomplete survey of this grand parade of unifications:

The unification of all branches of Newtonian dynamics into classical mechanics.

The unification of electricity and magnetism into electromagnetism.

The unification of electromagnetism and optics into classical electrodynamics.

The unification of classical mechanics and classical electrodynamics into special relativity.

The unification of classical electrodynamics and quantum mechanics into quantum electrodynamics.

The unification of classical mechanics, chemistry, and energy into thermodynamics.

The unification of thermodynamics and statistical mechanics into statistical physics.

The unification of electromagnetism, weak, and strong forces into the Standard Model of Particle Physics.

The unification of quantum mechanics and special relativity into quantum field theory.

The unification of Newtonian gravity and spacetime geometry into general relativity.

The unification of general relativity, astronomy, and physics into cosmology.

The unification of cosmology and the Standard Model of Particle Physics into Big Bang Theory.

And many others.

In each of these cases, the underlying unification was ultimately mathematical. Two (or more) distinct mathematical frameworks were shown to be expressible as a single mathematical system. A system that grew and grew with each new unification.

While physical scientists were exuberantly marching up the stairway to heaven, merrily conjoining every purposeless dynamic in the cosmos, what about the mindscientists? How many unifications did they manage to stitch together after the Great Science Schism?

By the end of the 1700s: zero.

By the end of the 1800s: still zero.

By 1950: still zero.

These articles will contend that by the end of the twentieth century there were still no broadly accepted major mathematical unifications in mindscience. Though by 2020 there was a set of mathematical mindscience unifications to rival the extraordinary centuries-long run in physics, this grand unification of Mind remains largely unknown to human scientists. We’ll get to it soon. (You’re in the middle of learning the story of why it remains largely unknown.)

Why was there a smorgasbord of unifications in physics, and famine in mindscience?

It all comes down to the math. Newton kicked off humanity’s understanding of the dynamics of matter, one of the two fundamental dynamics in the universe, using reductionist principles—“everything is made of atoms”—a conceptualization which drives the correct mathematical modeling of aimless stuff.

But what of the correct mathematical framework for purpose? What style of equations might frame love and suffering and poetry and psychosis?

Someone had to sit down and work out a Principia Mathematica of the Mind from first principles, just as Newton did so long ago. Two chief reasons explain why nobody did until 1958.

First, mindscience is hard, a frank fact that instigated the Great Schism in the first place. It’s hard because it’s difficult to know what to define and measure inside a thinking brain.

Should we measure the length of neurons, the size of bumps on a man’s head, how quickly a child reads a paragraph, a woman’s subjective expression of pain on a scale from 1 to 10? And how can we unify all such candidate variables of Mind—neuron length, skull bump size, reading speed, subjective pain—into a single mathematical framework?

This non-intuitive anti-reductionist mess is what drove the Great Schism in the first place.

Another hurdle to mindscience achieving unifications was physics envy.

Though technologies finally began to emerge in the late nineteenth century that enabled the measurement of ever-greater details of the physical brain, by that point every aspiring mindscientist lived in the shadow of physical science’s triumphs. Comparing the formidable success of physics—the success of reductionism—against the paltry and embarrassing performance of mindscience, it was inevitable that virtually every aspiring mindscientist imagined that to achieve respectable success within the community of science, one had to adopt the same methods, mindset, and math as physicists. Even though the Great Schism had long ago demonstrated that methods for unlocking the dynamics of aimlessness were not suited for unlocking the dynamics of purpose, each new generation convinced itself that now was the time for reductionism to finally wake up and begin illuminating the mysteries of Mind.

If there had been a viable reductionist approach to Mind, then mathematical unifications of emotion and perception and consciousness with electricity and atoms and optics should have naturally unfolded, as they did so handily during the splendid march of physics. But despite the heroic efforts of late-nineteenth century and early twentieth century mindscientists, no such unifications of Mind and matter were forthcoming.

Because what was needed first was a correct mathematization of biological thought, one that could only be achieved by a Newtonian return to first principles that disregarded the misbegotten influence of physics.

There were two gleaming historic opportunities to forge a successful mathematics of Mind before the twentieth century. Two chances to claw a distinctive science of purpose from the cosmos. Both ended in tragic failure, though in each case the opportunity was quite genuine.

The first failed opportunity was Charles Darwin. I’ll address evolution squarely in a separate article (spoiler alert: Darwinian evolution by natural selection is a narrow, special case of a more comprehensive mathematics of purpose.) The Origin of Species was also the origin of a science of purpose, the first well-grounded model of the operation of the dynamics of purpose in physical reality. There was enough there to derive basic mathematical principles governing these dynamics, but nobody snatched hold of this scintillating opportunity. No general equations for evolution emerged from Darwin’s magnificent work.

No mathematical unifications of the dynamics of purpose.

But the greatest historic opportunity of all for deriving a mathematics of Mind came three decades after Darwin’s marvelous book. In 1895, one man puzzled out the correct approach to modeling the dynamics of Mind. The right way to think about thinking that, if diligently pursued, would naturally lead to a correct mathematical account of perception, emotion, cognition, and consciousness.

But in what I consider the greatest tragedy in the history of Earthbound science, after opening the door to an effective understanding of biological thought and awareness, this potential Lord of Illumination instead chose to become a Lord of Darkness.

Who was this fallen mindscientist who fumbled the chance to get ranked with Newton?

Sigmund Schlomo Freud.

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The intention of this project is to furnish us with a psychology which shall be a natural science: its aim, that is, is to represent psychical processes as quantitatively determined states of specifiable material particles and so to make them plain and void of contradictions.
   .Sigmund Freud, Project for a Scientific Psychology, 1895.

The end of the nineteenth century was a heady time for mindscience. The synapse had just been discovered, revealing that neurons were independent units rather than conjoined strands in a seamless “reticulum” as previously believed. The revelation of the synapse prompted a rush to work out a sound science of neurons and their dynamics.

One mindscientist in particular was highly enamored of the mathematical possibilities of the synapse: the Austrian neurologist Sigmund Freud. Inspired by cutting-edge knowledge of the brain’s architecture, Freud devoted himself to writing a book of “psychology for neurologists,” as he referred to it. It was an ambitious project: he was hoping to achieve nothing less than a natural science of Mind based upon a basic understanding of neural dynamics.

Many dreamed of such achievement, of course, but Freud went further than anyone. He stripped down the mechanics of the brain to what he surmised were its simplest elements—the newly discovered “neurons”—and the interactions of these elements.

Throwing out many old assumptions about the brain, Freud sat down and puzzled over how one might model neural activity from first principles. He ended up producing something extraordinary. An audacious hand-sketched diagram laying out a set of interacting neurons and how they interacted. It was the very first model of a neural network. And done right.

Here is Figure 14 in Project for a Scientific Psychology:

In fact, when a foundational mathematics of Mind was finally worked out six decades later, the researcher who accomplished this feat did so using a neural network model that was remarkably similar to Freud’s forgotten design, even framing neural interactions in much the same way.

In short, working on his own, Freud derived the correct schematic framework for thinking about thinking. It’s not possible to overstate the significance of this. He had everything he needed right in front of him to deduce a proper mathematics of Mind. A proper dynamics of purpose. We know this, because Stephen Grossberg derived the math from such a model when he was just seventeen years old.

If Freud had continued on with his very promising start as originally intended, we might very well have derived the basic principles of biological thought before World War I.¹

But that’s not history. Instead, two factors thwarted Freud’s golden opportunity to deduce a mathematics of Mind.

First, the laborious, mentally challenging work gave Freud a headache. He often complained to friends about his efforts at ferreting out the dynamics of thought: “I am positively devoured by it, till I am really overworked and have to break off. I have never experienced such a powerful preoccupation. And will anything come of it? I hope so, but it is a difficult and slow business.”

Second, Freud discovered something far more intriguing than neural dynamics. Young ladies sharing sexual secrets on his sofa. By the turn of the century, just five years after his publication of the world’s first mathematized neural network, Freud dramatically switched his focus. He now believed one could learn more about the mysteries of Mind by chatting with folks about their childhoods and sexuality and dreams than by modeling neural dynamics with math.

The Project for a Scientific Psychology was quickly followed by Sexuality in the Etiology of Neuroses and The Interpretation of Dreams. Instead of a proper dynamics of purpose, we got shrinks, the talking cure, and psychoanalytic theory. Which is about as effective as astrological theory.

It’s hard to overstate just how destructive a force Freudian psychoanalysis was on American mindscience. Freudians began infiltrating academia as early as the 1920s, but World War II propelled a flood of European psychoanalysts (who were largely Jewish) to America, prompting a Freudian takeover of American academia and medicine. By the end of the 1950s, followers of Freud held most department chairs in psychology and psychiatry, controlled most mindscience journals, and firmly controlled the diagnosis of mental illness in America. Though the power of Freudians began to diminish somewhat by the end of the 1960s, they didn’t leave the scene until the publication of the first non-Freudian Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness in 1980, which prompted a rapid decline in Freudian influence by stealing away their power to define mental illness. (When I attended college in the late 1980s and 90s, I encountered several Freudians still ensconced in academic positions, usually bitter and contentious folk.)

Psychoanalysis was shlock science that convinced people to pay endless cash over years and years to rid themselves of “neuroses.” What was a neurosis? Whatever a psychoanalyst wanted it to be. After all, there was no math, no measurements, no data to work from. Freudians generally blamed one’s parents for all of one’s ills. An attitude that was especially damning for autistic folks like me and my family, as Freudians blamed “refrigerator mothers” for a child’s dark gift, declaring that moms who were selfish and cold produced autistic offspring.

Folks with severe mental conditions, like autism², schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder, were treated for their presumed neuroses with the talking cure. Unsurprisingly, psychiatry quickly became the black sheep of medicine, ignored and mocked by cardiologists and dermatologists.

But perhaps the darkest legacy of Freud was his emergent antipathy toward math. Long gone was his youthful inclination to “to represent psychical processes as quantitatively determined states.” Psychoanalysis established the pervasive and malignant notion throughout the American education system and American culture that you don’t need to know any math at all to understand the mind.

When I majored in psychology in the early 1990s, I didn’t take a single class with math more complex than basic research statistics. Most of my classmates had zero interest in math—in fact, that’s why they chose to major in psychology in the first place: because they presumed, correctly, it would allow them to directly interact with people and learn about them through conversation and social experiments, without ever dealing with anything like boring mathematical physics.

For any student in the twentieth century who possessed a natural inclination to apply math to thinking and feeling, there were precious few role models to look up to. And those uncelebrated rarities did not show up in any textbooks. Instead, virtually every wanna-be psychologist or psychiatrist graduating before 1995 was at some point guided into serious discussion of the Oedipal Complex and anal personalities and the clash between id and superego, profoundly mathless concepts that have nothing at all to do with neural dynamics. Until the end of the twentieth century, all the most famous names in mindscience—Freud, Jung, Adler, Rollo May, Carl Rogers, Albert Bandura, Karen Horney, Jean Piaget, Abraham Maslow, Erik Erikson, even John Watson and B. F. Skinner—produced theories of thinking that were entirely mathless.³

What is certain, and damning, is that none of the above names achieved a single unification. Because no scientific unification is possible without math.

The teachings and convictions of mathematical-neurologist-turned-Lord-of-Darkness blanketed American mindscience and culture throughout the twentieth century, rendering the excruciatingly challenging process of working out the dynamics of Mind even more arduous.

[ Coming Soon: Volume III: The Mindscience Unifications ]

Previous INTEX REVELATIONS: Volume I: The Puzzle

Next INTEX REVELATIONS: Volume III (coming soon)

Read FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS about Dr. Ogas and the Dark Gift

1. Of course, we can’t know for sure. Freud, like virtually all mindscientists—even Grossberg to some extent—suffered from a bad case of physics envy, repeatedly affirming his conviction that Newtonian classical dynamics would play a key role in the dynamics of thought. His attitude towards consciousness was also an early version of the pseudoscientific Hard Problem: he believed it was possible to derive a mathematics of thought that could explain everything in the brain without ever requiring any connection to or explanation of consciousness. Grossberg proved this view wrong.

2. Autism—true autism, defined by an attention deficit in the Why module—is not a disorder and needs no cure. But autism as it was defined much more broadly during the Freudian era (out of ignorance) included individuals with severe neural conditions.

3. As a quick aside, in my own ardent search for a mathematics of Mind in the 1990s (driven by contact with the intex puzzle) I initially turned to the new and faddish field of evolutionary psychology because I couldn’t find anybody who was trying to mathematize neural dynamics the way the visions indicated. I presumed that surely evolutionary theory must be founded upon a sturdy mathematical framework that could be leveraged to study purposeful dynamics within the brain. After I was quickly disabused of that notion—evolutionary psychology nurtured no math, either—I experienced a great depression.

The depression led me to Gail Carpenter and her husband Stephen Grossberg. Who were in the middle of their great run of mathematical unifications of mindscience.