236
R. Barrett and P. P. Delsanto
OOO would never be accepted as legitimate physicists until they
tested their conclusions in the laboratory. He had been in the
process of carrying out such an experiment, involving a box, a
radioactive source, a Geiger counter, a cyanide capsule and the
Dean’s Persian cat (since deceased) when he was discovered by
the Dean. This misadventure had led to his expulsion.
The real reason for his demise, however—or so Doppelbelcher
avowed—lay with his assertion that the fundamental constants
of nature, in particular Planck’s constant h and the speed of light
c, were unstable. Why was this proposition so unpopular? Surely
it was only what would be expected from Quantum Mechanics,
where atoms could jump spontaneously from one energy level
to another. Why should one expect the fundamental constants
to be exempt from similar erratic behaviour? Clearly, they should
not. However, once ideas become encapsulated in the credos
of physics, it is very difficult to overthrow them. In this case,
he knew the Dean was saving himself from a long, animated
debate over a philosophical principle by ousting him on the
pretext of a Schrödinger’s Cat experiment gone wrong.
Doppelbelcher could not understand why his ideas had
received so little support from his peers. Evidence of sudden
changes of state abounded when one knew where to look for
them. Who has not lost their keys, only to have them turn up a
few seconds later in some unlikely location? Who has never felt
someone behind their back staring at them, and yet, when they
turned quickly to catch them out, they had vanished? It could all
be explained by a sudden fluctuation in Planck’s constant.
Try telling that to the OOO, thought Felix. “You’re forgetting
Occam’s Razor,” they preach. “Your ideas are too complicated.
Remember, the simplest explanation is always the best.” This
from a mob who believe we live in an eleven dimensional
universe—one of an infinite number of parallel universes that
we can never visit—and that ninety-five percent of its contents
are invisible. “Lord, give us a break!” he muttered aloud.
“Well, they are not going to win,” said Felix, straightening
his jaw. “Data must always triumph in the end.” His eyes shone
with an awakening passion. “And why should I care about some
piddling stipendium when my rich aunt’s favourite charity just
happens to be the Omsk Home for Stray Cats.” He grinned at
R. Barrett and P. P. Delsanto
OOO would never be accepted as legitimate physicists until they
tested their conclusions in the laboratory. He had been in the
process of carrying out such an experiment, involving a box, a
radioactive source, a Geiger counter, a cyanide capsule and the
Dean’s Persian cat (since deceased) when he was discovered by
the Dean. This misadventure had led to his expulsion.
The real reason for his demise, however—or so Doppelbelcher
avowed—lay with his assertion that the fundamental constants
of nature, in particular Planck’s constant h and the speed of light
c, were unstable. Why was this proposition so unpopular? Surely
it was only what would be expected from Quantum Mechanics,
where atoms could jump spontaneously from one energy level
to another. Why should one expect the fundamental constants
to be exempt from similar erratic behaviour? Clearly, they should
not. However, once ideas become encapsulated in the credos
of physics, it is very difficult to overthrow them. In this case,
he knew the Dean was saving himself from a long, animated
debate over a philosophical principle by ousting him on the
pretext of a Schrödinger’s Cat experiment gone wrong.
Doppelbelcher could not understand why his ideas had
received so little support from his peers. Evidence of sudden
changes of state abounded when one knew where to look for
them. Who has not lost their keys, only to have them turn up a
few seconds later in some unlikely location? Who has never felt
someone behind their back staring at them, and yet, when they
turned quickly to catch them out, they had vanished? It could all
be explained by a sudden fluctuation in Planck’s constant.
Try telling that to the OOO, thought Felix. “You’re forgetting
Occam’s Razor,” they preach. “Your ideas are too complicated.
Remember, the simplest explanation is always the best.” This
from a mob who believe we live in an eleven dimensional
universe—one of an infinite number of parallel universes that
we can never visit—and that ninety-five percent of its contents
are invisible. “Lord, give us a break!” he muttered aloud.
“Well, they are not going to win,” said Felix, straightening
his jaw. “Data must always triumph in the end.” His eyes shone
with an awakening passion. “And why should I care about some
piddling stipendium when my rich aunt’s favourite charity just
happens to be the Omsk Home for Stray Cats.” He grinned at