The prevailing wisdom currently of the City seems to be that: Nature’s most compelling warning signals are fevers and blue light specials.
I once overheard a certain fleet-tongued chap, standing near a fast-track-university, lift his nose, and utter these memorable words, “Ah, the exhilarating aroma of anticipatory sweat of the long distance thinker.”
The gates may swing open for everyone at least once in their lifetime, but no one seems much the better, or wors, for the unused opportunity.
In a 3-D world, could even gods actually analyze a thing, other than after it happened?
In the City, there is a tacit ban on “absolute info.” (Full disclosure not permitted.)