Schrodinger’s Cat

SCHRODINGER’S CAT:

OPENING CHAPTER

 
“Lastly, a bit about me, I like handball, pizza and horror films. I took interest in physics in college and I’m very excited to be here, so once again thank you for giving me the opportunity to be part of this wonderful team.” – The person standing next to me takes the mic stand.
“This is our newest intern, Edward Schulz, who’s been with us for two months and is currently in the hardware department – he’ll be helping build our latest model - the Mega Drone.”
A polite round of applause follows as the next person steps in to talk.
“Congrats on the presentation! Welcome to Tex Ultra.” – a colleague says to me as I sit down.
“Thanks.” – I mutter back.
“I liked the story about your parents, how your dad says he came to this country with one luggage and your mum always says it’s a lie.”
“Yeah…” – I chuckle, thinking fondly of my parents.
“What business did you say your father has?” – he asks me, in a friendly tone. “Err… smoke detectors.” – I answer hesitantly.
“Oh, cool, where does he sell them?”
“Everywhere, really.” – I rush through the sentence, knowing it’s a lie. “Okay … well, nice to meet you, I’ll see you around!”
“You too mate.”
 
Once the presentation ends, I head downstairs in the lobby to get some coffee and wind down a little bit. I place the empty cup under the coffee filler and let my mind rest when I feel a spike in my pulse and the first thing that comes to mind is Celya. She is like a little cloud that follows me around. One I’m scared to look at for fear it will disappear forever, the pieces scattering in the deep blue sky.
I can still taste her lips, her kisses so gentle, so fragile, like ash - once they reach you, they vanish. I’ve met girls who are pretty, quirky, smart – but I’ve never really noticed them. Some of those girls, I can’t even remember what they look like now – but I know the tiniest details about Celya even though I haven’t seen her in months. Her presence is pressed into my mind like a stamp into sealing wax. Her left eyebrow slides downward a bit later than her right… I know exactly how her lips sink into her cheek after a long laugh, how her one crooked tooth gives her smile crumpled charm.
Even her hair smells different to any other girl. Only her hair smells that way. Must be the shampoo…
I often hear stories where love makes the room feel like its electrified, and how lovers can’t keep their hands off each other and all of that – but for me, every time I’d meet her, this deep sense of belonging would anchor me to her. My frazzled spirit suddenly comes into focus and a feeling of elation washes over me. As if I’m remembering who I always was – I once again become real and all the things I thought I was collapse like a tower of cards. What I’m left with is my true self. Now I’m powerful, madly in love and most importantly – whole. When I’m with her, time doesn’t exist - the present moment is all there is and life becomes eternal once more.
I had promised myself not to call her, but despite my better reasoning, I hesitantly reach in my pocket and dial her number. I jab the green symbol on my phone and steel myself for what I know will be a harsh conversation.
“It’s over. Don’t call me. We were just having fun.” – memories from our last encounter start to creep up on me as I wait for her to pick up.
“Hello?” – she answers, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Celya … how are you?” – I whisper into the phone, as if to hide another moment with her from life itself. My voice nonetheless slightly echoes into the empty hallway.
All I hear on the other line is a long sigh – that’s all I am now - a disappointment, a nuisance, an annoying fly that sits on her head while she tries to take a nap on a summer’s day.
“Listen, I’d still like to see you if you want to meet up again. I had a really good time while we were - “
“Edward, please, I said I’m leaving for good.”
“Well, you can come back – can’t you?” - her pause is another attempt for me to get her back. “We can just see each other every three-four months or so … you’re not at the end of the world, you’re in France! Okay, well, close…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry – that’s all you have to say? You had known you’re leaving even before we met. You could have at least had some respect to tell me this is just going to be a mess about.”
“I did! So many times I said - we’re just having fun – I didn’t want to take this further, in fact I never said anything when we raised the relationship question…”
“You didn’t say anything – so you don’t have to feel guilty now. Congratulations! You won a game that you invented with rules that only apply to you.”
“I really don’t think there’s anything left to say. I’m sorry, I have to go now … and anyway, I’m seeing someone.”
She hangs up. A deep sinking feeling settles in my stomach and the shame of rejection gulfs over me. I remove the cup of coffee from the stand when a bit of hot liquid spills over my hand, shaking off my spiralling thoughts as I quickly drop the cup and tend to the burning flesh.
“Hey man, you okay there?” – a stranger’s voice intrudes into the silence. I look to my right to find a tall man in blue uniform, a bit older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties, looking at my shaking hand. There’s steam coming off a large red area on it.
“I must’ve been holding it really tight.” – I offer him a kind smile, washing away any doubt that I am not, in fact, in the dumps because of a break-up.
“I saw you earlier - you’re the new guy, they call you Schulz, right?”
“That’s me.” – a feeling of dread and exasperation escapes as I answer, not being able to contain it.
“I’m Rory. I work on the same floor with you, I’m in operations … Did we meet at Uni by any chance?” – he blurts out fast, with a subtle tinge of aggression.
“Oh, no, I went to college and came straight here.” “Ah, okay … are you coming to the showcase then?”
“The showcase?” – I couldn’t care less if I’m honest Rory, but I’ll play along and be polite for a few minutes more.
“Do you even work here?” – he smirks, in a both silly and cynical way. “The showcase for the model you’re helping build. Mega-drone?” He then motions for me to follow him up the stairs to the lifts. I reluctantly agree, squeezing the cup again as more hot coffee drops on my hand. This time I don’t react, I just stay with the pain.
We make our way up the gold plated metal stairs, as we mumble through some benign talk – our words being the only thing that’s real in the otherwise artificial space of Feng Shui aligned plants, empty cover books decorating the shelves and large IKEA lamps and carpets.
“I hope Laura is there.”
“Who is she?” – I say as he is expecting me to ask.
“I’ve been chasing her for months. Dude you have to see her. She’s so hot!” – he continues, his deep voice obliterating the silence around us.
The lift lets out a soft ping as we arrive at the sixth floor. Rory still bangs on about Laura, as we head for reception. I’m resting my mind and giving him an automatic yes or sometimes yeah as if to look like I’m paying attention.
“She can be a supermodel.”
“Yeah?” - I say it again, in between two breaths.
“Eh, no mate I’m taking the piss. YES – why do you look so confused?! Blonde, busty, nice…” – he puts his arm around me like we’ve been best pals for years and tries to give me a visual for the size of Laura’s bust.
“Are you here for the showcase?” – the receptionist interferes loudly. It’s as if he’s had enough of Rory’s antics already. Maybe he managed to spot my desperate attempt to disentangle myself from his lanky limbs and the entire conversation altogether.
“Yes, we are” – I reply, courteously.
“To the left, three doors down, it’s on the right hand side, you can’t miss it.”
The small hallway leads to the massive roof on top of the shorter building attached to the main one. It is the size of a football field. It is a deep, fresh autumn evening and the base along the walls is covered in indigo blue and purple lights, with red and white dimmed lights criss-crossing each other in front of the Mega-Drone. The drone itself is a seventy foot wide, two story high beast with four mighty propellers. It looks like an enlarged child’s toy, like it’s not meant to be a real thing. At its base, men in fine shirts swagger and classily dressed women prance around exchanging words and drinking bubbly wine. On one side of the room, a few senior executives are having what seems like a very serious conversation. I stand there in awe, while Rory drifts away to look for Laura.
Soon enough a man in a tuxedo stands out from the crowd and takes a microphone, announcing the beginning of a presentation about Mega-drone as the crowd cheers him on and applauds. My initial excitement quickly turns into disappointment as this man ambitiously drives the story into a dull and unimaginative experience about numbers.
“At times, it will serve as a life emergency machine.” – he finally concludes, after what felt like drowning in live sand. [1] – “A motherboard for over four hundred mini-drones which can be sent to countries dealing with catastrophic circumstances such as earthquakes, tsunamis and the like, bringing vital medicine and food to those in need.” Another round of applause follows. I catch a glimpse of the dull tuxedo man rejoining the group of executives.
“Bzzzt!” – my phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s a bill reminder for tomorrow morning. I check my bill amount against my bank account and I am two pounds shy. The sound of something dropping to the floor takes away my attention. It’s a wallet that fell of a purse together with what looks like an identity card of a lady in a rush to leave. I pick them up.
“Hey miss. Miss!” – I shout louder for her to hear me. She turns back. I take a quick look at the card and catch the name “Laura”.
“Oh, thanks!” – she exclaims, a little shocked. We exchange a smile before she leaves.
 
I look around to find Rory staring at me intently and grinding his teeth as if to suppress his anger. His rageful look lingers on for a while longer. I take a step forward in his direction. I want to assure him there was nothing between us in that moment. He, on the other hand, takes a step back. I stop and follow him with my gaze as he joins the group of executives and appears to be confiding something to one of the senior members who then looks as if he is searching for someone – and to my surprise – once he finds me, locks eyes, and continues to look at me with disbelief, suspicion and despise. Not feeling at all comfortable, I leave.
I walk home in a stupor, surprised when I eventually look up to find myself outside my house. My feet have automatically carried me here. The yellow old light bulb outside my front door has a special glow this evening. It is as if all of autumn is trapped inside it – stained muddy leaves, naked trees and all. Beyond my house I can hear the chirping of the last summer crickets, their voices echoing in the wallowing darkness surrounding my house.
I head to my room. On the way there I glance at the garage entrance, a beacon of moonlight glistening over the door window. There’s nothing in there anymore except for my dad’s gadgets, an old Camaro and an army diving suit– a three bolt, hermetically sealed , hundred and fifty pounds of rust. I wonder if any of that will leave this place or age and dissipate just like this house.
I see the smoke detectors in a bin bag next to the door – my mum must’ve gotten tired and cleared them up finally. It reminded me of the lie I told my colleague how my dad runs a smoke-detector business. I feel ashamed for saying it – I’ve lived with a lie like that for a
long time now. Today it’s a business. Yesterday he was a professional diver. Tomorrow he’s a banker. Lies, lies, lies for as long as my dad has been ill. I’m embarrassed to say that he’s sick – because I don’t want people pitying me. “Oh, poor soul, his father is ill, his mom stays to look after him, he must really have a hard life.” – I always got annoyed at those people.
I’m not sad, I’m not someone to pity – I can take care of myself and my family. My family situation doesn’t make my life worse – it actually makes it better! For the first time in my life, I’m pressed to make important decisions, to take control of myself, to have people depend on me – and the best thing about it? I become the master of my destiny … and while for people like us change is slow – it is the only thing we have …
The next day, the entire hardware team is called in for an urgent meeting. We quickly assemble in one of the warehouses on the ground floor, huddled up in the middle, waiting for our project manager to arrive and give us the latest announcement. Behind us, a row of disembowelled mega-drones loom over us as titans. It is dark and within the scope of the little light that seeps through the massive steel warehouse doors, I can see unsettled dust from the work the day before. The manager finally arrives, somewhat frazzled and concerned, yet remains firm and begins without stuttering.
“Good morning team. Thank you for coming at such quick notice. We have just heard back from the COO, there’s a brand new project being approved right now with a client whose name I can’t mention yet. It is very, very exciting but I will need to add an extra task on your schedule I’m afraid. ” – groans, whistles and all sorts of other sounds of complaint fill the room in the pause he takes between two breaths. “For this project, we are going to research quantum jumps. Have you heard of Schrodinger’s Cat?”
“Schrodinger’s…” – I mumble, drifting off in a distant memory.
“Schrodinger’s Cat” – says my old teacher - “is a paradox of quantum superposition, in which, a hypothetical cat may be considered simultaneously dead and alive as a result of it being linked to a random subatomic event that may or may not occur”
The students glance nervously to each other in confusion. An uneasy giggle ripples through the classroom so the teacher elaborates further.
“Imagine taking a cat and placing it in a sealed box with a radioactive device that had a 50% chance of killing the cat. When you open that box, I ask you students, what is the state of that cat?”
“Well, the cat is either alive or dead” – says Schulz as group laughter fills the room.
“Oh, you find this funny? Well, you should apologize to your classmate because he is right. At the instant before the box is opened, the cat is equal parts alive and dead at the same time. It’s only when the box is opened that we see a single definite state. Until then, the cat is a blur of probability. This quantum phenomenon of superposition is a consequence of the dual particle and wave nature of everything in this universe.”
Eerie silence absorbs the room. Another classmate then asks: “Did Schrodinger run the experiment then?”
“No, he became a biologist.” – concludes the teacher. The classroom erupts into laughter once more.
“More or less all of you, good!” – the manager notes loudly, yanking me from the memory. “I’m rushing to another meeting - you should be receiving an email with all the notes from me by midday. In short, we will be measuring the quantum jumps of the atom when it transitions to a definite state once the box is opened. When it occurs, how it occurs and how to predict the outcome – that is our task. I will let you know more later. We will begin work tomorrow after lunch at warehouse B. You can go back to the station for now.”
Tomorrow afternoon, I arrive a bit later, having forgotten to attach knee plates on one of the new mega-drones. The silence that often fills that warehouse is now replaced with human chatter and buzz as people run about on the floor. There is a large cylinder box in the middle of the space, elevated on a flat surface held steadily by a thick, metallic pillar. To my right, spread out on a large, dry and faded army blanket are big chunks of celestite crystal from which you can extract strontium – a large atom, something they might possibly radiate. Further down the line, my manager is briefing a small number of my colleagues on something. To my left, two big blokes moving a heavy-loaded, covered trolley park it a few feet away from me. As they go about chatting, I sneak in a bit closer to take a peak beneath the sheet. It’s pure grade two-ten Polonium. A rare radioactive element that is only commercially available from Russia – hard to acquire and usually bought by countries, not companies. What on earth is a company that does essentials drone delivery doing running this experiment? The polonium alone would cost them a third of their profits. Also it takes years of exposure before the element can radioactively affect a desired object. It requires constant exposure. I didn’t pick up on that in school but it did occur to me that is the case after I tried to melt dad’s favourite tire rims on the Camaro with a homemade forty watt laser – a revenge plot I’m still very proud of after he had grounded me for smoking cigarettes.
That didn’t help clear the confusion. Then things got even more confusing.
Further back in the darkness behind the cylinder box – hanging from high up, I see some sort of a pump gun. I come nearer to inspect it. The front end has a pointer much like a gun and it’s aimed directly at the box. There are two wings on each side. As I come closer I recognize one wing to be an ion pump, and the other a gas pressure regulator. I stare at it for a moment longer. I come around the back and I can see a trigger. There’s a sticker above it that says “initiator”.
Well, it has an ion pump, and I presume an ion source within it, so it must be a modulated neutron initiator. They’re going to bomb the polonium with neutrons to destabilize it’s core faster, almost instantly. That way they will kick-start radioactivity. Ingenious – and very expensive!
That same evening, testing begins. There is such a mad rush around the project that I can’t help but think why. I can see why they chose strontium though. It has thirty eight protons, which gives it a large diameter. With the correct laser, you can energize the neutrons and create almost naked-eye visibility. This, together with a powerful microscope can create decent enough circumstances to detect the quantum jump once the atom starts to decay.
The strontium is placed in the cylinder box together with the pure-grade polonium. They then fire the neutron initiator at it, making the element unstable. It soon becomes radioactive and begins to attack the atom aggressively. Once the strontium begins to decay, a highly sensitive radioactive counter alerts us that decay has begun. After a few moments of hesitation, our manager approaches the cylinder box. Before opening it, he glances at a couple of my colleagues who are staring at their monitors like hawks eyeing on their prey. The monitor tubes are connected to a powerful microscope placed inside that will hopefully detect the transition of the atom from one energy to another - from both alive and dead, to a single definite state, much like Schrodinger’s cat.
He opens the box, holding the lid in his hand, then looks at the monitors. The pair shakes their head and there is a collective sigh of disappointment. Like all other experiments, a new test is almost immediately run. Again … and again…and again…
In the coming days the success of the runs would vary. Some days they would catch five or six glimpses of the jumps, then expand on it, analyse it, send the data to a laboratory. Other days, there’d be none. We would just sit there all afternoon, having already worked one shift, wondering when this hell will end.
Then one day I had had enough so I walk up to my manager to give him a piece of my mind. “What’s the point of measuring the jump?” – I ask him bluntly.
“The point, Schulz, is that if we are able to observe, and better yet, understand the transformation of the strontium, we might be able to understand how to stop it.”
“If decay from a radioactive element is natural, what’s there to stop? Just avoid it and let the Earth take care of it like it has for millions of years” – I chuckle, trying to cover up my opinion as a joke. In reality, I end up sounding very cocky and without a doubt he takes notice of it. He doesn’t add any more flame to the fire and simply continues to run new tests.
For a moment, I want to leave it there but for some damn reason, my gut urges me to push for answers.
“Isn’t it more fascinating-“ – I begin again to his annoyance – “that the atom exists in two indefinite states whilst in the box? Everything in this world is either alive or dead, but only in quantum super-positions such as these do we see the truly dual particle of nature. What if we are able to prolong that state until after we’ve opened that box? Wouldn’t that be more ground-breaking, discovering a new dime-”
“Schulz!” – his voice drills through the damp and humid warehouse as we all freeze. His face reddens and the veins on his throat pop out. “There is a ton of work to be done and you are just standing there talking and being absolutely ridiculous! If we lose this contract, you will lose your job, do you understand that? We are already behind schedule…” He pauses for a moment, mulling something over in his head. “In fact, how about the entire group stays a couple of hours more – you can thank your ever- so-curious colleague Schulz here.”
A mountain of moans, groans and all sorts of other sounds are thrown in my direction as he grabs a few papers from a near-by desk and marches away, his boots hitting the cement floor hard as he lets the steaming anger out on it. I’m just standing there like an idiot, hearing my colleagues from the back of the room, giggling, swearing …
“Nice one Schulz!”
“Who’s going to pick up my kids from school mate?!”
“Piss off.”
I apologise to each and every one during the course of the next two hours as we run more painfully long and unsuccessful tests. I end up staying until the very end, waving goodbye to the last colleague leaving the warehouse. Once they leave, exhausted, I sit on the floor eating leftover lunch tuna.
“You don’t know when to shut up sometimes you big buffoon.” – I tell myself angrily. “Just get the job done and get out of there and that way you can keep your pride.” – I continue consoling myself. I almost stood up to leave and then decide not to.
“Fuck it.” I throw my box away and, still chewing, I approach the cylinder box and inspect the amount of polonium being used. I carefully add more of the element and seal the see-through box. Then I recharge the neutron initiator and select high outburst. My plan is simple – a larger quantity of radioactive material combined with a lot of power behind it will produce larger jumps – which can then be detected more easily.
I run the experiment, firing off the visibility lasers that charge the neutrons of the strontium first, then firing the neutron gun, then finally running into position behind the monitors to observe the outcome. The neutron gun goes –
‘zzzzzzzzzzzZZZVVVUUUUUMMMMM’
Nothing on screen, not a jump, not even a blip. I try again. Nothing…again…and nothing…
Once all my patience and wit ran out, the anger, frustration and tiredness took over and I start acting on impulse. I run into the backroom and grab a Hazmat suit then empty the contents of the box on the flat, metallic surface below it. I add more polonium – then select maximum outburst level on the neutron gun trigger. I face the monitors towards the middle of the space and stand right above the box, as if my presence there would change anything.
I look directly into the gun as the sound of loading neutrons begins again:
‘zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVUUUUMMMMM MMMMMMMMMMM’
This time the sound is so powerful I have to plug my ears. A jolt of unbearable pain rings inside them as if someone is tearing my drums apart. The initial sound then becomes more distant but the zooming keeps ringing in my ears. Once I get a grip of myself, I immediately look at the monitors – nothing. Then I hear a soft beep. I notice the shape of the polonium is changing. I look back at the monitors again, the frequency is going up, which means more jumps are detected. Then a large jump occurs, bigger than any we saw until now.
“Yes!” – I shout, gritting my teeth. I feel this inexplicable sense of joy, or is it warmth? Somewhere in my chest – I feel like my chest is heating up. It’s so warm. It’s like a giant galaxy star is growing, expanding in my lungs. I can almost feel sparks in my lungs. It feels strange. I begin to cough. I’m sweating, I’m losing my breath a little. Why am I sweating? What is happening? My chest is so warm, oh god, it’s so, so warm. I can see both bright lights and darkness. Then lots of white light and then -
I wake up around six am. My muscles are sore, my bones hurt and my head is spinning as if I'm hungover. I rush to get up or I'll be late for work. I skip breakfast, mumble my way through the good morning conversation with my mum and jump in a cab to the train station. On my way there I keep wondering what the hell happened last night?! Didn’t I try run the experiment at the warehouse last night? I remember not being able to breathe, I remember white light and then … it must’ve been some kind of a nightmare…
"What the hell happened here?!" - says someone with a deep voice. I open my eyes slowly to find one of the big blokes pushing the trolley a few days before standing over me. Wait, standing - how is he standing in my chest? "Hey - you're stepping on me!" - I say very shocked. He can't hear me. "Hey! HEEEEYYY!!!!" - this time I scream. Nothing. The man picks up the contents on the surface, places them carefully back in the box. He then readjusts the neutron gun and as he heads for the exit, picks up his radio and goes: "Boss, you better come see this mess."
I can’t seem to move anything. My corporeal form no longer exists. The experiment has worked too well.
 
THE END