My quantum theory and how I found it in the dust

They don't call my professor Moriarty for nothing you know...

Now then, this is my quantum theory, full of holes, I know, in fact it’s so full of holes it can’t be seen with the naked eye.
Nevertheless it is a theory I have come up with to explain some fundamental principles of indivisibility that stretch away forever in all directions and are much faster than Einstein, mostly, until I heard: if you do one thing, another thing will happen somewhere else.

This statement got my mind spinning faster and faster until I was going around in circles and dancing back and fore like some old spanner looking for their tune and hearing repeats over and over again before disappearing into the sun to burn up and die of thirst, and more or less forever.

You know, this may be a strange way to die to some, but it had me wondering: what were the progressive corners of this, and were there any outdoor adventures to go with it; which I thought to be a kind of natural sort of question to ask in the circumstances. I mean, you know what I mean, don’t you?

There’s no need to answer this, not if you know what’s good for you, said my assistant hammering nails beside me.

Now then, ladies and gentlemen, I will need one or two volunteers from the audience to hold up their hands, and say: hello, I’ve got a question?

You, yes you, I will answer your question; yes, I do mean you with that grin on your face. What? Speak up, I can’t hear you.

I see, you don’t understand. Well, didn’t you go to school and learn quantum physics there?

Then what did you do?

I see. Well, never mind the esoteric allusions for now; tell me what you’ve learnt so far in this subject?

Oh, you’re still on the basics? And you’re finding it hard to keep up from the back.

Science is not for you then I see.

We have more time yet before class ends, so we’ll now do a conjecture assessment on how much this conclusion weighs.

Hands up who knows the answer to this.

I am becoming aware now of what the problem is: I have stepped out of a quantum bubble and burst through to the other side into a sacred space where you are all staring at me and demanding an answer.

If there is no problem, then there is nothing to answer for, said the voice of my assistant in my ear.

I had no recourse but to look back on my life for a clue about this; and finding one that I liked, I put it on, and stirred the gravy even more.

Maybe what I’m not delivering is the computation of the workings out that you are waiting for. Or perhaps you hear a ringing in your ears that confuses you. But, whatever, it is close to time to wrap this lecture up so I can get out of here and get a pint in the second hand pub next door.

As everybody suddenly woke up and buzzed, I gathered my things to leave.

Ding, ding, I said. Stampede.

Much later, I was rooting around in the dust when I heard myself talking to myself and wondering what I’d been saying that was so worthwhile to listen to.

This is only part one I thought, of the quantum physics class, and gathered up my wits to make a run for it, and hoped I’d get past the post office before my luck ran out.

As I was running along I felt to know how much plenty was, and you know what, I think plenty is as much as I get, most of the time.

When I arrived where I’d begun much earlier to answer this question, I found I was all out of answers.
So I looked within.

And found that Buddha was a clever chap and knew that nothing that can be perceived by these senses is real.

Forms come and go but some say the illusion is real, said the dust under my feet as I danced along, shouting: quantum theory is for sissies.

End of part one

Images from Pixabay

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