
About this episode
Get every episode summarized
Each time pplpod publishes, we email you a written briefing from the transcript — the topics, who appeared, and any specific claims, with the ad reads skipped.
Email me new episodesFree for 3 shows. No card needed.
Hosts & guests
Transcript ready
494 searchable segments. Every word is indexed and playable.
Full transcript
pplpod — The Human Who Is Their Own Parents. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
When you really need care, you need 24-7 access to a care team, not a maze of paperwork from a third party. Every day, America's hospitals and health systems show up for you, navigating healthcare can feel overwhelming, but you can count on real doctors, real nurses, real people, providing quality around the clock care when you need it most. They're in your corner, in communities across America, your neighbors, your lifelines, right beside you holding your hand and helping find answers. That's what putting patients first actually means. Learn more at strengthinhealthcare.org, brought to you by the Coalition to Strength in America's Healthcare. Imagine mapping out your family tree. Right, something we've all probably tried to do at some point. Exactly. And normally you expect this sprawling network, you start with yourself, you trace the branches back to your parents, your four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, just kind of multiplying outward and backward into history. Yeah, it anchors you. It gives you a sense of place. It does. But what if you started tracing those branches and instead of expanding the lines twisted, turned and just crashed directly back in you? Oh, wow.
What if you realized that you are your own mother, you're your own father, and you're your own child? Well, biologically and chronologically, that is the absolute definition of a short circuit. I mean, you are describing a scenario where a human being exists without a true origin point, just completely untethered from the rest of the human race. That is exactly the premise of our deep dive today. We are exploring the ultimate brain-breaking time travel paradox by dissecting the Wikipedia article on Robert A. Heinlein's legendary 1959 science fiction short story, All Use Zombies. Such a fascinating piece of literature. It really is. And just to clear the air right off the bat, since we're diving deep into the source material for you, this is not a story about literal undead zombies shuffling around looking for brains. No, not at all. Actually, this is a narrative so meticulously constructed that philosophers and astrophysicists like Carl Sagan, for instance, have utilized it to teach the fundamental nature of causality.
Which is wild for a pulp sci-fi story. Right. And the real world history of the text is fascinating in itself. Heinlein supposedly wrote this entire mine vendor in a single day, July 11, 1958. A single day, that's just unbelievable. Yeah, and it was actually rejected by Playboy before finding its home in the magazine of fantasy and science fiction. It eventually earned a Balrog Award nomination, and even inspired the 2014 Ethan Hawke film predestination. Okay, but to understand why academic study in 1950s pulp sci-fi story, we have to look at the incredibly specific mechanics Highline built. We do. And those mechanics start in a surprisingly gritty setting. Yeah, we open in this dimly lit bar in the year 1970, the narrator is the bartender. And the source material explicitly notes that he is wearing an Auroboros ring. Right. The ancient symbol of a snake eating its own tail. Exactly. And that is a massive thematic anchor for literally everything that follows. So he's working, and he strikes up a conversation with a patron, this cynical young man,
who goes by the pen name, the unmarried mother. Which is such an intriguing detail. The patron earns that nickname by writing sensational confession stories for magazines. From the perspective of unmarried women, and he's just churning them out at four sense of word. So the bartender is observing this guy and essentially challenges him. He wants to know how a man can write so convincingly from a female perspective. And that question is the catalyst. It prompts the patron to reveal a life story that reads honestly like a tragic mid-century noir. Yeah, the patron explains that he wasn't born a man. He was actually born a girl named Jane in 1945. And Jane was entirely abandoned, raised in this cold institutional orphanage. Just profound isolation right from the start. Exactly. And Jane's one escape plan was to join what they call a comfort organization. Which in this universe is a government program providing rest and recreation for spacemen. Right. But in 1963 as a teenager, Jane is seduced by an older, mysterious man. She gets pregnant and is promptly abandoned again.
And the tragedy just compounds from there, especially during the delivery. The doctors are forced to perform an emergency, highly complicated caesarian section. And during the surgery, they make a profound medical discovery. Jane has an extremely rare intersex condition. She possesses fully developed female reproductive organs, but also internalized, undeveloped male sex organs. Right. And because the pregnancy and the surgical trauma severely damaged her female organs beyond repair, the doctors make this unilateral, non-consensual decision to perform a sex reassignment surgery. It's just horrific. So Jane wakes up from saving her baby to find out that she is now biologically and legally a man. And while recovering from that unbelievable physical and psychological trauma, another mysterious older man seeks into the hospital and kidnaps her newborn baby. Left with absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. So the former Jane, who is now living as a man, has to adapt. He learned secretarial skills, leverages his experiences into writing, and eventually becomes the bitter young man sitting in the bar in 1970.
It is a staggering sequence of traumatic events, just a complete social and biological isolation. Okay, let's unpack this. Yeah. Because I promised the listener a mind-bending exploration of theoretical physics and time travel. Right. And right now, we are deep into a gritty medical trauma, drama. You've got this classic nor setup, a tragic victim in a bar with a dark past. How does a story about an orphanage, a C-section, and a kidnap baby, translate into a high-level physics paradox? I mean, it feels like two completely different genres. I completely agree, but that dissonance is exactly why the story is brilliant. Every single detail you just mentioned, it isn't merely a tragic backstory. No, it is a strict biological mechanism required for the physics loop to function. High-end line is setting up the parameters of an impossible equation. Yeah. Think about it. Without the orphanage, there is no isolation. Without the specific inner-sex physiology, the upcoming chronological loop violates biological reality. The medical trauma is quite literally the engine of the time machine.
The engine of the time machine. Okay, let's look at that engine then. Because we are back in the bar in 1970, and the bartender makes an impossible offer. Right. He listens to this horrific life story, and then the bartender tells the unmarried mother that he can offer him ultimate revenge. He says he can deliver the patron directly to the man who seduced and ruined Jane's life. So the bartender leads the young rider into the back room, reveals a portable time machine, and jumps them both back seven years. They land precisely on April 3rd, 1963. And he turns the unmarried mother loose to find the seducer. But the bartender does not wait around. No, he doesn't. He uses the time machine to execute this highly calculated highs to cross decades. Yeah. First, he jumps forward 11 months to March 1964. Okay. He infiltrates the hospital, kidnaps the newborn baby, and then time travels way back to September 1945. And he drops that infant off at the very orphanage where Jane grew up. Exactly. Yeah. After planting the baby, he jumps forward again to 1963.
Waits a month, picks up the unmarried mother, and pulls him out of that timeline. But we have to look really closely at what the unmarried mother was doing. During that month, he spent stranded in 1963. He was searching for the man who ruined his life. But instead, wandering around, he bumps into a lonely 17-year-old girl named Jane. Oh my God. He begins dating her, eventually seduces her, and leaves her pregnant. Here's where it gets really interesting. I remember reading this for the first time, and the realization just hits you like a freight train. Yeah. He was instinctively attracted to his younger female self. Exactly. The older man who seduced Jane, Jane herself, the baby stolen from the hospital and the time traveling bartender, pulling the strings. I mean, for everyone listening, try to draw that family tree in your head. You can. You can't. They aren't a family. They're the exact same person at four different stages of a single life cycle, just a single thought. What's fascinating here is how Heinlein constructed with the author, Stanisau Lim, calls the minimal possible bootstrap paradox.
The minimal possible bootstrap paradox. What does that mean exactly? Well, the term comes from the old physically impossible adage of pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. In this framework, an object, an event, or in this case, a human being, exist without any true origin. They're entirely self-created. Let's just connect the dots here for them. Jane gives birth to herself, fathers herself, and orchestrates her own kidnapping to ensure she exists. Yes, they're entirely self-created. But biologically, how do physicists or philosophers even grapple with that? I mean, where did the original genetic material come from? That is the big question. If the bartender drops himself off at the orphanage to grow up to father himself, how can DNA just exist without an origin point? It violates everything we know about how matter and information work. And that is exactly what broke the brains of academics analyzing the text. You are shitting on something called an ontological paradox. Ontology. Yeah. Ontology is the philosophical study of being and existence. In our normal reality, information and matter
have to come from somewhere. But in a bootstrap loop, the information is completely uncreated. Completely uncreated. I think of it like a word in a dictionary that defines itself using its own word. There is no root origin. It is just a self-referential circle. Jane's DNA wasn't created by a combination of a separate mother and father. Her DNA is just permanently suspended in this loop of time, existing simply because it exists. It's like putting a microphone directly next to a speaker. You get that screeching audio feedback loop where the sound is just endlessly amplifying itself with no external input. That is a perfect analogy. But you mentioned earlier that philosophers like David Lewis actually defended this story. How can a philosopher look at a person fathering themselves and say, yes, this makes perfect logical sense? Well, because David Lewis, in his highly influential 1976 paper, the paradoxes of time travel, analyzed the logic of timelines. And he specifically praised Heinlein's construct here. Yeah. Lewis argued that the grandfather paradox,
you know, the idea that you could go back in time and kill your own grandfather less to racing yourself is logically flawed. Instead, Lewis championed the idea of a block universe. A block universe, meaning time isn't like a flowing river but a solid object. Precisely. Imagine the universe not as a story being written line by line, but as a DVD that has already been burned. Oh, I see. All of the past, present, and future exist simultaneously. Lewis argued that a time traveler doesn't change the past when they go back. Their journey was already baked into the timeline from the very beginning. So you aren't writing a new draft of history. You're just fulfilling the original draft. Exactly. So under Lewis' theory, a bartender isn't altering his past by dropping the baby off in 1945. Because if he chose not to do it, the universe wouldn't unravel, right? Because in a block universe, it is impossible for him to choose not to do it. Spot on. His future self was already present at his own past events. Lewis pointed out that Heinlein's loop is logically watertight.
Every single action perfectly causes the next, forming a closed loop with absolutely no loose ends. So the timeline is consistent because there are no contradictory events. Right. The loop is bizarre, yes. But it does not contradict its own internal rules. Which brings us to Carl Sagan, a legendary astronomer analyzing a pulp fiction story about an intersex time traveler. It's quite a crossover. It is. And Sagan said that science fiction like this conveys inaccessible knowledge, forcing the reader to contemplate causality and the arrow of time. But I want to bring this down to Earth for you listening right now. So what does this all mean for you? It's a heady concept to apply to real life. It is. Because we all experience time as a one-way street. Cause always precedes effect. Like you accidentally push a glass off a table, it hits the floor and it shatters. Pushing the glass is the cause. The shattering is the effect. And the arrow of time dictates that the shattered glass will never spontaneously reassemble itself and jump back onto the table. Thermodynamics and entropy demand that time moves in one direction.
Right. But Heinlein's loop forces us to ask, what happens to our reality? If the glass shattering is the very thing that caused you to push it in the first place, what if the effect is the cause? It completely flips everything. It does. If you apply that to a human life, it redefines what existence means. We use the phrase a self-made person to describe someone who built a business from scratch. But this character is the ultimate literal self-made entity. They owe their existence to absolutely no one but themselves. If we connect this to the bigger picture, they are completely self-reliant in the most literal biological sense. It's the ultimate thought experiment in self-reliance and the illusion of beginnings and endings, the snake eating its own tail. Yeah. The Auroboros ring isn't just a piece of jewelry the bartender wears. The ring is the map of his life. There is no head, no tail, no start, and no finish. But we have to look at the psychological reality of living as an Auroboros. Because having no origin outside of yourself
might sound like the ultimate form of independence, but when you actually sit with it, it is a nightmare of loneliness. A total nightmare. And the source material highlights that emotional toll brilliantly in the final act of the story. It really does. Because after the bartender retrieves his younger self, the unmarried mother from 1963, he doesn't just drop him off anywhere. He transports him to the year 1985 to an outpost of the temporal bureau. And the temporal bureau being this secret police force that travels through time manipulating historical events to protect the human race. Correct. The bartender drops the young man there specifically to enlist him, which means the bartender has just recruited a younger version of a myself into the very agency he already works for. Wow. He created his own past, orchestrated his own birth, and now he's officially initiating his own future. Once the mission is complete, the older bartender returns to the bar in 1970, arriving just moments after he initially left for the back room. He ties off the loop. And there's a brilliant dark detail here
that we have to mention. Earlier in the 1970 timeline, a customer was playing a song on the jukebox. And the bartender yelled at him for it. He hated it. Right. But when he returns, having just completed this monumental existential task, he actually allows the customer to play the song. And the track is, I'm my own grandpa. It's just Heinlein injecting this dark comedy into an incredibly bleak reality. Yeah. So the bartender closes up the shop and time travels one final time, retiring to his home base in the year 1993. And this is where the philosophy of the story turns completely inward. He's all alone. Yes. As he gets ready for bed, exhausted from effectively orchestrating his entire life cycle, he looks down at his own stomach. He stares at the surgical scar. The scar left over from the Caesarian section he endured back in 1963, when he gave birth to his own daughter, who was also his mother, his father, and his entire history. He knows the truth of that scar better than anyone in the universe ever could. And staring at that physical proof of his loop,
he has a final revealing thought. He thinks to himself, I know where I came from, but where did all you zombies come from? It's a haunting realization. Where did all you zombies come from? That's a chilling, arresting line. And it finally explains the strange title of the story. Yes, the formatting. The title is formatted with dashes on either side, all you zombies. The dashes indicate that the title is actually a fragment. It's a quote pulled directly from the middle of this exact closing thought. Exactly. It represents the alighted text before and after the phrase. It's a literal snippet of a mind completely isolated from the rest of humanity. I just marvel at the sheer terrifying isolation of the character in that moment. I mean, even though he knows his own perfect closed loop origin, everyone else in the world is an inexplicable mystery to him. How were they born? Right. Normal people have mothers and fathers and sprawling oak trees of ancestry that extend into infinity. To him, normal people are the bizarre anomalies. They are the zombies because they wander around
with these messy, linear, unprivable origins. This raises an important question about solipsism. Solipsism. Yes, the philosophical idea that the only thing you can be absolutely sure exists is your own mind. Everything else outside of you could be an illusion. If you think about playing a massive open-world video game, you know you are the player holding the controller. But every other character walking around the city is an NPC. A non-player character. Right. They're just code generated by the system to give you a backdrop to interact with. They have no inner life. And for the bartender, that isn't just a philosophical thought experiment. It is his empirical reality. He is the only person in the universe whose existence he can physically prove from beginning to end because he is the sole author of it. Exactly. Since he cannot trace the origins of anyone else, the way he can trace his own absolute undeniable loop. The rest of humanity lacks the same level of reality to him. They are just a backdrop. It is the ultimate tragedy of his design. He has conquered time. But in doing so,
he has alienated himself from the human race. He is a species of one. It is incredible to look at the journey of this narrative. I mean, we started by looking at a rejected magazine manuscript from 1958, bouncing back from Playboy to find a home in a sci-fi digest, eventually earning a 1980 Balrog Award nomination and inspiring a major film adaptation. And it deserved all of it. It really did. Because what we actually untacked was a masterclass in theoretical physics wrapped in a noir detective story. It takes that sprawling family oak tree we talked about at the very beginning, strips away all the branches and widdles the entirety of a human life down into a single, impossible, self-sustaining point. It challenges our fundamental understanding of cause and effect. It proves that fiction can be just as rigorous as a mathematical proof or a physics equation when constructing a closed system. Absolutely. But as we wrap up our analysis of Heinlein's loop, there's one critical complication we haven't touched on.
And it's something I want you to think about long after this deep dive ends. Let's hear it. We established that the bartender ultimately works for the temporal bureau, right? A secret police force dedicated to actively manipulating history and protecting the human race. But think about the block universe we discussed. If this agent's entire existence, his birth, his trauma, his recruitment, is a perfectly closed predetermined loop that cannot be altered, how can he possibly possess the free will necessary to manipulate anything else in history? Oh, wow. If his own timeline is completely unchangeable, wouldn't his interventions in the world's timeline be just as predetermined? Are you actually holding the pen and making choices? Or are you just flawlessly executing a script that was written before you were even born? You're listening to a podcast right now, driving, working out, walking the dog. If you're in a podcast, chances are you have something to say too, with rss.com. Starting your own podcast is free and easy. Upload an episode and we distribute it to Apple podcasts,
Spotify, Amazon Music, and more. Track your listeners, see where they're from, and start earning from ads just like this. If you've been thinking about starting a podcast, this is your sign. Start your new podcast for free today at rss.com. You're listening to a podcast right now, driving, working out, walking the dog. If you're into podcasts, chances are you have something to say too, with rss.com. Starting your own is free and easy. Upload an episode and we distribute it to Apple podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, and hundreds more. Track your listeners, see where they're from, and start earning from ads like this. Even with just 10 listeners a month. If you've been thinking about starting a podcast, this is your sign. Start free at rss.com.
More episodes
More from pplpod

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 61: Ever After at Pemberley
pplpod

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 60: In the Middle Before I Knew I Had Begun
pplpod

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 59: As Good as a Lord
pplpod

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 58: My Affections and Wishes Are Unchanged
pplpod