The Quantum Physicist’s Revenge

by R J Dent

The quantum physicist was ecstatic.

          He took a jubilant eye away from the microscope, a jubilant step back from his workbench, then turned and jubilantly walked towards the door of his laboratory, in his haste very nearly knocking over a whole assortment of delicate scientific apparatus that had been arranged around the room.

          “Eureka,” he said under his breath. “Eureka!”

          He repeated this word several times, and then stopped saying it when he realized that the word wasn’t dramatic enough for his purpose. Eureka might have been good enough for a naked Archimedes, but times had changed, science had moved on, and the quantum physicist had discovered something with implications that would prove to have far more impact on the human race than the Hydrostatic Law. And he didn’t need to run naked through the streets to make his point. His discovery would make itself apparent to everyone very soon.

          Having unnecessarily reminded himself of this fact, the young quantum physicist walked quickly out of his laboratory and along the corridor, trying to think of something appropriately commensurate with his discovery as he made his way to the Chief Science Officer’s office.

          Upon reaching the office, he knocked and entered, not bothering -such was his eagerness to impart the news- to wait for the usual, terse bark of “Enter!”

          The Chief Science Officer looked up from behind his desk, angry and surprised. He simply wasn’t used to any of his staff simply barging into his office – although due to this just happening, he was able to deduce that the situation justified it, which meant – in short – that one of his staff had discovered something relevant, perhaps even important.

          “Yes?” the Chief Science Officer demanded, with just the right amounts of sternness and understanding combined in his tone of voice.

          “It’s official, Sir,” the quantum physicist announced grandly. “God is dead!”

          The Chief Science Officer yawned disinterestedly, then stared hard at the young quantum physicist.

          “Do you mean to say,” he demanded, “that you just barged in here without knocking, and disturbed my train of thought right when I was tackling three down in my crossword – seven letters, beginning with L, ‘a match made in Heaven, but later discarded’ – just to tell me something that I’ve known for years?”

          The quantum physicist shook his head quickly.

          “I don’t think you fully understand my meaning, Sir. What I mean is that I’ve proved that God does not exist – and has never existed.”

          “How?” asked the Chief Science Officer, clearly unimpressed by the quantum physicist’s words.

          “Well, it’s all linked to the Big Bang Theory, Sir. Incidentally, I’ve proved that that didn’t actually happen either.”

          “No God or no Big Bang?”

          “No, Sir. Not anything at all. What I’ve done is use the principles of atomicized de-constructivism, or rather more accurately, the electron particle orbital reversal of proto-neuron streams, to prove that not only does God not exist, but that the entire universe is nothing more than a randomly held-together, or mutually attracted field of electrons, ions, atoms, particles and other microscopic and macroscopic debris – all of which could mutually un-attract at any time.”

          The Chief Science Officer was beginning to understand. The import of the quantum physicist’s words was beginning to register.

          “Good God, man! Oh… I mean… good… er… grief! Do you realize what this means?”

          “Not really, Sir,” the quantum physicist replied, although he did have a fair idea regarding the implications of his discovery.

          The Chief Science Officer sat back in his chair and looked smug.

          “It means…” He paused to look at the quantum physicist’s name badge. “… Digby, that you and I are going to be huge. Bigger even than old Charlie Darwin.”

          “Who, Sir?”

          “Charlie… Oh, never mind. It’s not important. The point is that very soon the entire scientific community is going to have heard of you and me.” He rested his head in his hands and thought carefully for a moment. “Okay, Digby, let’s go and have a look at your proof.” He got up from behind his desk and followed the quantum physicist to his laboratory.

          After only a few moments spent checking the quantum physicist’s findings, verifying the process which was written out in the quantum physicist’s neat hand in his notebooks, it became apparent to the Chief Science Officer that the quantum physicist’s discovery was accurate and very provable.

          “I’m surprised that it hasn’t been discovered before now,” the Chief Science Officer muttered, once he saw the number of tests the discovery had been subjected to.

          Satisfied, the Chief Science Officer warned the young quantum physicist not to breathe a word to anyone about his discovery. He then went to telephone the Director-General of the Science Institute at which he worked. As he tapped out the number, he thought over the implications of the quantum physicist’s discovery.

          No god – not now or ever – meant that a lot of people – those who set some store by the supernatural or the mystical – were about to have their belief system destroyed. This time, as opposed to other times when this had been attempted, the theory behind the proof was not a theory. This time it was so obvious that it could only be seen and accepted. No one would be able to pretend the didn’t understand, no one would be able to ignore the evidence. The evidence which showed that everything existed in a state of chaotic nothingness. The Earth, the Solar System and the entire universe could finally be shown to be nothing more than a random collection of elements, brought together by random electron compulsion unification, which sometimes lasted indefinitely – sometimes for seconds, sometimes for years. This meant that they could be unbrought together at any time. In fact, time was no longer relevant either. A form of magnetism was all that was holding everything – and everyone – together.

          This particular thought so frightened the Chief Science Officer that his hands began to shake. The telephone shook against his ear. He began to wish that there was a god after all. He was just about to put his jumbled -and seemingly contradictory- thoughts into some sort of order when the telephone at the other end was picked up and the frosty voice of the Director-General of the scientific institute said: “Hello. Who is it?”

          Not bothering to introduce himself, the Chief Science Officer simply blurted out: “God’s finally dead, Sir. We have irrefutable proof.”

          It was at this precise moment that the quantum physicist – along with the Chief Science Officer, the Director-General, the scientific institute, their country, every other human being, the planet, various satellites, the moon, the sun, all of the planets that revolved around the sun, the stars, along with millions of asteroids, meteorites, abandoned rocket motors, and other various pieces of debris left by humans – disappeared into non-existence. Vanished. Ceased to exist. This took no more than a split-second and all that was left was a vast empty nothingness. The only thing that didn’t vanish was the dodo, which humans had managed to make disappear years ago. Everything else became non-existent. Nothing. Not even a vacuum. It could have been – had such a thing existed – Armageddon. The end – one in which everything was again without form and void.

          And then something strange happened.

          A tiny flicker of light appeared at a far point of the nothingness – a tiny flicker of light which grew in size, until a casual observer would have been able to discern that the light was caused by none other than the outside lamps or lights of a giant flying vehicle – a space ship of sorts. The space ship – which was shaped very much like a giant Citroen car – hovered for a moment over the huge tract of emptiness where the universe had been a few seconds before and a door opened in one side. A giant man stepped out of the space ship – a giant man with long grey hair and a long, flowing beard. If he hadn’t been wearing the long white coat that signifies a doctor or a scientist, it would have been very easy to mistake him for a hippy or a rock guitarist. Or both.

          He stood on nothing and looked around. Then he spoke.

          “Dead, am I, you cheeky bastards!” His voice, even though he spoke quietly, boomed out around the vast tract of total emptiness. Yet clearly he was speaking to someone or something. “I give you a beautiful planet to live on and to thrive on and you not only bugger it up, but you then try to use science in order to prove I don’t exist. If I wasn’t the kind and benevolent being that I am, I could get very angry with you.”

          He paused for a moment, contemplated, then continued.

          “Let me tell you something about quantum physics. I was not only advancing  advanced quantum physics when those primitive ancestors of yours were still running around in my garden, wearing fig leaves over their best bits, but it was me who invented the whole fucking concept of physics in the first place – and passed my knowledge on to you lot. I suppose I should have realized that you weren’t – as a race – mentally advanced enough to handle basic science, but I really thought that I’d be doing you all a favour.

          “Of course, it all soured after that tosser Darwin started taking the piss. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Einstein finds the most effective way to wipe out everyone and everything, and instead of keeping it to himself, he puts it into a simple sum that even the most wooden-headed amongst you can understand. And today, just to really put the so-called icing on the cake, some total and utter bastard – who shall remain nameless for the moment – has gone out of his way to prove that everything in my beautiful universe is random – a mere fluke.

          “Well, a deity, which is what I am, can only take so much – I’ve been forgiving you lot for years – and getting you out of all kinds of scrapes. Today it’s your turn. You can get yourself out of this one. Use all of your knowledge, all of your scientific know-how and all of your supposed understanding of man, nature, the universe and me to get yourself existing again. I’ll give you a millennium or two, then if you happen to find out you’re not clever enough – and if I think it’s worth the effort – then I might consider lending you a hand. I might even give you the name of the bloke who just ‘proved’ that the universe was a matter of random principles. I bet he feels a bit stupid now, doesn’t he?”

          He stopped talking and smiled. The smile lit up the vast emptiness with a pure and radiant light.

          ““Right then, I must be off. I’ve got lots more worlds to visit, some of which are actually on speaking terms with me. I just drop in and say hello from time to time. There’s enlightenment for you. Not all of them of course – just one or two of the more advanced ones which are happily tucked away in their own universes, quietly minding their own business. There are others, of course, not quite that advanced yet, but still streets ahead of you lot. One race is doing all it can to prove that I do exist – now there’s a nice little concept for you to grapple with whilst you’re in limbo.”

          He turned and climbed back into the space ship and closed the door behind him. He wound down the window, emptied the contents of the ashtray into the void, and then stuck his head out of the window.

          “One more thing before I go,” he said, as he lit a very fat hand-rolled cigarette. “I’m sorry to keep going on at you, but I feel obliged to keep on until you start listening. If I were you – and I suppose I am in a way – I’d slow down and start enjoying life a bit more. I mean, you only live once, don’t you?”

          He then started the engine of the space ship and flew away. The lights of the space ship grew smaller and smaller as it travelled through the emptiness. Soon the space ship had reached pin-head proportions.

          Then, just as the space ship had almost disappeared, a strange sound filled the void that had once been the universe. It sounded like music from a car stereo system. The music – if that’s what it was – was high-pitched and rhythmically melodious. It sounded like the song ‘My Sweet Lord’ by George Harrison, who had once been the lead guitarist with The Beatles.

          It was a particular favourite of the bearded man in the space ship.

The Quantum Physicist’s Revenge

© R J Dent (2009)

www.rjdent.com