The Road to Reality

25^th Mar 2007

In quantum physics, sub-atomic particles can be in two places at once. Obviously this is so counter to common everyday sense and experience that it is pretty well inconceivable for most of us. We are used to the classical physics which operates on our scale and right up to the size of things like stars and galaxies. But the evidence for this astonishing feat is incontrovertible according to scientists.

Not only this, but for some time now, physicists have been debating at what scale the threshold exists between quantum reality and classical reality and last week's New Scientist made an even more startling suggestion. The suggestion is that there is NO threshold. Quantum weirdness can persist all the way into everyday reality. If we could simply sit still for long enough and not engage with any other sub atomic particles at all (a tall order) we could actually also be in two places at the same time.

I have been thinking about this all week and now the situation is compounded by the sudden and wholly unexpected change in the time. Last night, when I went to bed at 10 o'clock (I had a late night the night before), it was, well, 10 o'clock. But when I woke up nine and a half hours later (it really was quite a late night, the night before), it was 8.30 in the morning. I did the maths, in the bath, but it didn't add up. I have lost an hour somewhere.

So what I want to know is - when I am on the other side of the universe at the same time as being here, which according to the New Scientist, is theoretically possible - what time is it on the other side of the universe? Do they put the clocks forwards and backwards over there as well? What if they are an hour behind me (the 'here and now' me, rather than the 'there and then' me)?

Of course there would be a distinct advantage in one part of me being an hour AHEAD the other part of me. I would be able to tell what was going to happen to the 'me' in the 'here and now' universe, in the there and then universe, and then communicate this to myself in the here and now universe.

Had this been possible last week (which it patently wasn't because the clocks hadn't gone forwards yet, unless they were already an hour ahead in the 'there and then' universe, in which case we are all in step once more, following last night's mysterious loss of an hour in the 'here and now' universe) then I might have avoided a number of unfortunate incidents including falling asleep in front of the TV until 2 o'clock one morning.

And imagine what you could avoid if we put the clocks backwards a whole month! I am thinking of starting a campaign. Obviously I don't yet receive direct communications from the 'me' on the other side of the universe because, so far, I haven't managed to sit still enough for long enough to avoid all interactions with any adjacent subatomic particles (a major obstacle is the necessity to stop breathing, I suspect), but I will work it out one way or another.

Anyway, I decided to start by making a list of the actions I might have avoided had I known the consequences a month or so in advance. Of course much of my real list is unprintable, but here are a few of the more respectable mishaps. You might think I could have worked out the consequences before committing myself anyway, but until I am actually physically suffering I do seem to have a remarkable ability to persuade myself that the, sometimes, inevitable outcomes will never be as bad as they in fact turn out to be.

Buying a Chinese fishing lantern. It seemed like a good idea, especially as you can cook beans on the top of them as well as illuminate a whole stretch of beach. But after three hours of trying to get the thing to light, setting fire to my hand once and my fishing line twice, I went home empty handed and fifty quid poorer.

Reading the 'Moben Kitchens' brochure which said, 'we take the stress out of your new kitchen'. Four months later, I realised they had made a typographical error. The word they had intended to use wasn't 'stress', but it did end with a double 's'.

Spending an hour getting Saturn into focus on my ARGOS telescope just as dinner arrived on the table, only to find that it had moved behind the roof by the time I had finished eating.

Falling into a drain in Managua, leaving parts of both shins behind. It was the only time anyone ever put iodine on an injury to my person and it is definitely the last time that will happen.

Going to Blackpool. All I remember is standing in a 'club' one afternoon, ankle deep in beer, and the coach trip home which took at least three days. Amputation would be preferable.

Actually, much worse things have happened and I was undoubtedly the architect of many of these mishaps. But there is generally a silver lining. For example, I no longer spend hours and hours on freezing cold beaches staring madly at the sea, but instead frequent the excellent Parkstone Fisheries. I no longer compete in (and win) Barley Wine drinking competitions in Blackpool or anywhere else. Blackpool is a significant distance towards Iceland, but has less charm (though more Barley Wine). I understand that iodine is an element of the periodic table and not a medicine. I avoid drains completely. Dinner is more important than astronomy and I can see Saturn much better on my computer than through dodgy, wobbly optics in a hazy and restricted sky in my back yard.

The simple fact is, I would have learnt none of these things had I stayed under the duvet.

Knowing everything in advance might not actually be such a good thing after all. These are important lessons and all of them were learnt experientially. Not doing things simply because they appear to be stupid does not satisfy us for much of the time. We have to 'know' and often we can only 'know' by having a go.

I have no regrets at all really. In fact, a lifetime of stupidity now stands me in very good stead. Most of the truly sensible things to which I am now committed are a consequence of doing the opposite in my former years. You could describe my journey as 'The Road To Reality'. In its own way, I like to think it has been as unfathomable as that other book, 'The Road To Reality' by the eminent Roger Penrose, Professor of Mathematics at Oxford University. Even if I had another lifetime, I doubt I would really understand either version.

Obviously you can take this too far. There are some mistakes that are irredeemable. But within this important boundary, I exhort you: take a risk. You might just learn something useful.

Oh, and just because I have increased my professional liability insurance this week, it doesn't mean you can sue me on the basis of the above. I am responsible for what I do, but I am not responsible for what you do on the basis of what I write or say. You do have a mind of your own, you know. Or two.

Send me your 'mishaps' and I will publish them to the world.

Bye.

A NOTE ABOUT COPYRIGHT:

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