01 Feb God, Schrodinger’s Cat, and Me
Have you ever heard of a quantum superposition?
Even if you haven’t, I guarantee you have. Schrodinger’s cat. It’s the thing everyone tries to reference to make them seem smart when they don’t actually get it.
See, here’s how most people see it: -Cat in box with some ornate trap -The box is closed -The cat is both alive and dead at the same time.
That’s not it. That’s nothing. That’s not science. That’s just idiotic silliness. Anyone can make that up.
Well, it’s KIND OF right but it misses the point entirely.
The reality of Schrodinger’s cat and quantum superpositions, though, that’s where it gets interesting.
See, to start with, most people assume as soon as the cat goes into the box, it’s both alive and dead, because you don’t know. It sounds silly because it is. But the Superposition takes time to occur, it’s not instant. (Otherwise, those mystery box shows on TV would all be quantum superpositions just because “you don’t know how much money is in each case.” Obviously that isn’t true; a box with $1 cannot contain $1,000 just because you don’t have X-Ray vision or psychic powers.)
The next point is that most people just assume that the event is going to happen; it’s not, necessarily. Otherwise there would be no outcome other than “dead cat,” given time.
The truth of it is, quantum superposition takes time to build up and can go either way. The trigger event does not happen immediately, if it ever does. So, effectively, rather than simply “we don’t know if the cat’s dead or alive,” the box becomes a containment of reality splitting off, until it becomes so unbearable on our world,
the paradox pu l l i n g on the fabric of reality
that it rubberbands and collapses on itself.
This doesn’t necessarily happen when we open the box; we just see which side of the cosmic game of tug of war had Big Bertha on its team.
So it’s not that we don’t know whether the cat is dead or alive. It’s that we can’t witness reality struggling to choose a side. The cat is not simultaneously alive and dead the whole time it’s in the box. But it actually does exist in both states for a period of time.
I hope that makes sense.
So what happens to the other side? Where does it go? The cat exists in a state of life and death, and only one side stays in our reality. High school physics tells us matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed so tell me…
Where is the other cat?
The idea has been prominent throughout human history. Fuck, man, the most dominant religion in post-Event history (we’ll get to that) is based on a similar concept. God, one being, in three persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit/Ghost/Whatever. They call it the Divine Mystery. Those on the less religious side call it bullshit.
I call it the most powerful quantum event in history. Tied into one so fucking intense that it actually DID breach our reality.
I’m going to digress a little bit here, but
I’m talking about the life of Christ. More specifically, the death of Christ.
There is no denying, no matter your race, religion, creed, or whatever, that Jesus of Nazareth was a very influential man. His life (and death) literally impacted thousands of years of human history. Wanna learn about it, read the bible or some history books or something, I’m going to focus on one thing.
Christ was executed by crucifixion. Nasty business. Nailed up to a plank and hung naked for everyone to see as you slowly die from either blood loss or asphyxiation. Another thing most people don’t realize. Jesus got off kinda lucky, actually; he gave up the ghost long before the centurions came and broke he and his companions’ legs.
But something happened afterward that changed everything, the entire course of human history, for better or for worse.
On the third day he rose again.
Jesus, just a carpenter who told people not to be assholes was put in a tomb and just three days later he was alive and kicking. Something happened in that timespan that triggered an event. Whatever the fuck that was, the world saw reality die.
How could a man who was dead be alive? Simple. Jesus supposedly uttered these words before he died:
"Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."
Let’s take a look at that.
"Father, forgive them Jesus' Father is God. That's the story, anyway. God has been pretty wrathful in the past. Jesus has a bit of it too, he DID kill a fig tree just because he was hungry. for they know not what they do." Man was not meant to kill God. Nietzsche (in a another wildly misinterpreted bit) claims we did it. But just look at the story. He came back. Now in there, he says multiple times he knows what's coming and he does nothing to stop it, but is that because it was a required twist in our storyline, or is it just because mankind is just a big, stupid bull, rushing its target no matter what stands in its way? Or worse, a battering ram in the hands of giants, being swung repeatedly in whatever direction other forces outside our control decide? Can we not even choose our own targets? It's a scary thought.
Next, he says
"It is finished." What? His life? Clearly not; he knew the ending. He WAS the story, after all. No. What is true, is much, much more impactful and I'd even say terrifying.
There is always a constant in religion. There is/are a Deity/deities, and they are always deeply connected with our world, and usually, one of them is an asshole.
And there is always a constant with a quantum superposition. There is a cat, a box, and a catalyst.
Or, alternatively, a Godman, a tomb, and a heaping helping of gruesome death.
The death and resurrection of Jesus was not, by any means, divine. It was a massive Event. A tear in our reality.
You cannot kill God. God is Reality, and Reality will reject its own death. And as a result…
It is finished.
Which brings me to the disappearance of my left hand.
This started approximately one month ago. Maybe more. Maybe less. I have stopped bothering to keep track of time. It lets me think I may have a bit longer in this world.
Back in The Year of Our Lord 2014, I graduated Summa cum Laude with an M.S. in Bio-Chemical Engineering.
Eager and ready to jump into the workforce with both feet, I used every connection I had to interview in every available position. Department of Defense, General Electric, NASA (what’s left of it), you name it.
Then, after a year of unemployment (I do not count pumping gas as working), I received a call back for a second interview for an incredibly nebulous position at CIA headquarters in Langley, VA. They asked me to come in the next day. I said yes, without any idea how I was getting there.
The journey is unimportant. Suffice to say I made it there.
I went through security at least 4 times before I got to the elevator. I swear, I needed clearance to get a badge to get clearance to get in. It made me feel good and bad at the same time about the capabilities of our government; they’re simultaneously insanely meticulous and really shitty at national security.
I stepped into the elevator, selected my floor, and things started to get weird. Frantic thoughts in my head. Something kept telling me don’t step out just go back down and leave do not do this but this was the opportunity of a lifetime!
I didn’t even know what kind of position I was interviewing for.
'God damn, this is the slowest elevator in the world.'
Who cares. The money is huge and I’d always dreamt of having to tell my friends and neighbors that I’m an insurance salesman.
The elevator dinged, stopped, and opened. With just a slight hesitation, I stepped off. And I have no memory of what happened after that.
The next thing I knew I was driving home, beating my steering wheel to death. I didn’t get the job.
And the tip of the middle finger of my left hand was gone.
There was no blood. No mess. It was just as if it never existed.
Did it ever exist? I couldn't remember.
The next day I woke up, ready to hit the grind again, when I noticed that things in my little studio apartment were not in the order I left them in. A drawer was slightly out, and the TV was on. I was always very intent on keeping my space clean.
And the tip of my left little finger was missing.
Throughout the day, and over the next few weeks, I noticed more and more little oddities. My toothbrush was wet. There was water in the shower. Hair in my comb. (I clean it every day.) Food stores were depleting. And worst of all… the toilet was clogged. It was baffling.
Then one day, maybe 2 weeks later, things came to a head.
I was woken up after what some may call an “out of body experience.” I watched myself leaving my home. I was in quite a hurry.
I was woken by the sound of my door slamming shut.
I don’t believe in the supernatural. I do firmly believe in anomalies. So when I see myself leaving, and experience the physical effects of that sight, you bet your pretty little ass I’m going to need to see what’s happening.
I ran out the door, in my pajamas, just in time to see the elevator door close.
never descended a flight of stairs so quickly in my life
As I reached the bottom, someone was walking out the front door to my car. I flung the door open just in time to see me – ME – get into MY CAR – and drive off.
And as he drove off, there was my car, right where I left it, despite having apparently just left in quite a hurry.
What the FUCK?
I spent the rest of the day thinking. I didn’t eat. I didn’t drink. I don’t even think I pissed. I thought.
And let me tell you something about thought:
it can scare the shit outta you.
Are you starting to see where I’m going with this?
See, here’s me. and here’s me. Two weeks ago: Interview. Interview. Failed. Passed.
So here I am, floundering for any kind of significant income, while I’m ALSO out there running around working for the CIA. I got the shit end of the stick.
And 3 of my fingers were completely gone.
But think about it. Everything was there.
The box. The elevator. The catalyst. The interview.
The cat. Me.
So where do we go from here? I need more time to think.
That night, in my sleep, I determined what had to be done.
I had to kill myself.
Not… ME, me. The other me. You know what I mean.
I spent the next few days planning how I would do it. I was losing more and more of my hand. It was making it harder and harder to think.
Then, one day, I saw me. Full on. Face to face. If you’ve ever seen Back to the Future, you know that shouldn’t happen. He/I bolted and I followed after him.
After grabbing a knife, of course. I could not let him leave. I could not let him live.
I sprinted down the stairs and tackled him in the lobby. There were witnesses. I didn’t care. Screaming, kicking, punching, grunting, stabbing, bleeding.
Before I was able to plunge the knife into his/my throat I felt myself being pulled off.
A sharp jolt flew through my body and I fell.
I woke up here. Nice, comfortable room in the psych ward. I’ve been here for some time now; again, I stopped caring. My left hand is gone, and the rest of me is soon to follow. They insist I’ve never had it.
I live alone, in a room, my only human interaction is with doctors who question me and nurses who hand me pills I don’t take. But I am still here. It’s a miserable existence, but it is mine.
I’m not the first and I won’t be the last. This has been happening since the Event. People ask why he hasn’t done much recently? He’s been too busy fixing our cosmic fuck-up from two thousand fucking years ago.
Emilie Sagee. A teacher who had a double just appear, copying her every move, in the middle of class, or show up in other rooms during her class times.
Catherine the Great. An empress who found her doppelganger sitting on her throne. She had her guards shoot the double. She died shortly after.
Queen Elizabeth I. Saw herself lying still as a corpse in her bed. Died shortly after.
The germans named them Doppelgangers. “Double-walkers.” Always attributed to the paranormal, some foreboding warning of death or spectral glimpse at the future.
That isn’t it. At all. Just little cats in little boxes with little vials of poison, waiting for Reality-God to get a chance to deal with them, to stitch up the hole and keep the world together for another moment longer.
Humanity caught a glimpse of the fabric of the universe when Man killed God, the battering ram in the hands of who-knows-what, tearing down the gates for who-knows-why, and I am one of them. By all accounts I should be dead and gone. I am a paradox and a parasite.
How do you move a mountain? One pebble at a time. And you destroy reality by poking pinholes in it.
I don’t know where the other cat goes.
And I am afraid.