Folks, this an experimental post (for me, that is). It is slightly incoherent. Written in five minutes. No corrections made. My typing hands decide not to pause. Enjoy if you can get through the muddle.
Big Bang, a variation
I watched Brian Cox present an excellent BBC TV programme on the LHC (on iPlayer, UK only). He covered a great deal and did it engagingly. As I watched the Big Bang being presented as garguntum explosion, I wondered if this is a true picture of the beginning of the Universe. The explosions seemed to pander to the shockjocks in us. Explosions: good. Explanations, equations: bad, bad. And that is a problem. You see, the term Big Bang was a term of disparagement used by Fred Hoyle (he didn’t like expletive explosions ascribed to the universe, his theory was called the steady state theory, heh) to mock the theory. History is a cynic and let ‘big bang’ be hijacked to mean something grand. Well, not just something, the beginning of the Universe is hardly something. It is The Thing, the greatest event in the history of the universe.
So, a big explosive bang, that’s how it began, eh? Alright. Let’s parse this a bit. What banged into what? That’s tricky. See, we have a semantic problem to begin with and that’s just scratching the surface of this Pandora’s box. That’s what the Universe is: Pandora’s box. The biggest, the baddest, the best. It’s wide open and we are in it.
We are talking about the beginning of the Universe here. If at all we have an opportunity to discover that fatally attractive thing called Truth, we must leave no stone unturned, no lid unopened. March on then.
Explosions happen in Space and Time. They begin at 3 PM and end at 3:00:01 PM. They happen in your basement when you drop Mentos into a Soda bottle and shake it like a maniac. Right. Now, if the basement doesn’t exist and the clock has not started running, can an explosion happen? That’s too peaceful a scenario. Let’s have the basement inside the Soda bottle along with you and the clock. The clock; the clock has not begun recording the passage of time –
not because it has a broken cog, but because there is no passage of Time.
Alright. Now. Now, the bottle explodes. No, you didn’t shake it, you can’t, you don’t even exist (although what you will be, does). But someone, something messed about, yes, quite like a maniac. And the bottle…well, it didn’t explode but the stuff in the bottle – the
soda, the clock, you-ness, Space and Time – began to take shape. The fizz was pushing the boundaries. It’s like a moth that eats itself and becomes a sack of biochemicals, which then reorganizes itself into a butterfly. A butterfly that never emerges. Never emerges? No. It can’t emerge anywhere. There is no where. The butterfly is all there is. No cocoon. No tree. No world. No Outside. It was a moth and now it’s a butterfly. That’s all we know. On second thoughts, we don’t even know if it is a butterfly. We – me and you-, our human and other ancestors, are all trapped inside this ..this butterfly, this not-a-butterfly. We are trying to probe the walls, grab stuff from around us, smash them together to figure out what’s inside. We do it because, when we sleep, the butterfly visits our dreams. Asks us to fly. Asks us to make it fly. We are the wings. LHC is the wind beneath those wings.