Billions and billions. Such numbers approach comprehensive absurdity, residing somewhere beyond the finite boundaries of human consciousness. Numbers within this exponential corral evoke a sense of bewilderment and colossal imagination. They are undeniably very big numbers. But as though on a mobius number line, “billions” can quantify the inconceivably small, as well as the large. The atomic universe counts its own billions in terms of nanoseconds, reactions, collisions, orbital probabilities, and so forth. This “nanoverse” is like an insidious shadow of our much larger “macroverse,” reflecting familiar images, although in a cryptic, even taunting manner. And so in the dialogue of billions, the small is as enthralling as the large (and that’s not a pun).
The faculty of the small may be best tamed by exposing its similarities with the large, which is what we are more comfortable observing on a clear, moonless night. As far as we know circa 2007 A.D., there is one universe in which we conduct our relatively menial existence. This “Uberverse” commandeers both the macroverese and the nanoverse under the auspices of physical “laws” by which everything (yes, take that loosely) must obey. These are the fundamental forces that really smart people have conveniently deduced into four disparate forces -- well, at least until Steven Hawking decides that cameos on The Simpsons isn’t the fast track to the Grand Unifying Theory. Therefore, the family of forces that prevent precious Earth from a kamikaze trajectory into the sun also function to prevent electrons in my layer VI neuronal mitochondria from an annihilating trajectory into their adjacent protons.
It is from this perspective that one is then left to ponder the universe within. As galaxies dance about the celestial canvass, so do electrons about the atomic canvass. Unless life truly is but a dream -- and therefore unless you think Rene Descartes is one thought bubble too obtuse -- we are but the stars of matter and energy. The continuum of “billions” is at work coordinating every action potential of my neurons, every stroke of my keypad, and every radian that I spin so aimlessly around our favorite star. Simply put, we are but what are we, The Uberverse: a concert of harmonious exponential energy.
But if one is to imagine the “billions” comprising our Uberverse, a paradox presents itself that the Uberverse is pondering itself since my conscious mind is no exception to the Uberversal legal code. In other words, how is it that the Uberverse can ponder its own existence which is in itself the fruit of its own existence, just as the atoms that comprise my neurons function to ponder the nature of my neurons (as I do in the laboratory every day). The answer to the latter question may be that neurons do not “ponder,” rather, they are the vehicle by which the Uberverse has chosen to ponder, much like a radio is the vehicle by which radio waves are translated, not transmitted. But thanks to a fellow that wrote “Albert” on various name tags, the paradox may find some resolution in an elegantly simple mathematical formula equating energy and mass (insert iconic, if not trite equation “Here”). And so we are left with yet another continuum, although ironically, if not appropriately, the same continuum mentioned above that I will call the “mobius consciousness”. This is a continuum where the tangible electricity of action potentials, the intangible electricity of consciousness, and the intractable electricity of the Uberverse exist, if not at least because they coordinate to ponder that they exist. So let’s hear it for my main man, Descartes. Whoop, whoop!
And so the Uberverse is within us as much as without us. Everywhere. Every Move. Every crying moment in candlelight. Every quiescent moment in someone’s arms. We are but are we. The continuum of our mobius consciousness; a yin and yang of matter and energy, macroverese and nanoverse, love and hate, war and peace. But as is evident in even the most insipid newspaper, our existence isn’t quite so black and white. Quantum mechanics can take “Hello, My Name Is Albert” one step further to stir up an eddy of control among a torrent of Uberversal tyranny: probability. To predict the precise behavior of the nanoverse is to predict the impossible. Likewise, the Uberverse, by which we exist, answers to its own boss with the distinguished title, “Hello, My Name Is Probability, C.E.O.”. And so the paradox grows in dimension, although hopefully less than Brian Greene’s 26, in that an additional law of the Uberverse is that there can be no law of precise prediction. Is this the physics of free will? Am I able to choose because my neuronal nanoverse is unable to absolutely decide? And if this is true for my nanoverse, shouldn’t that also reign in my more familiar macroverse? The questions easily approach 1,000,000,000, and therefore any answers easily approach absurdity. But this perspective (which I admit is narrow) begs the possibility -- ahem, the probability -- that the choices we make, whether macro or nano can transpire to conspire among the nearest atom, as well as the nearest cosmos. A stellar butterfly effect perhaps, but an effect nonetheless.
Despite this cosmic significance, it remains evident that we are frail, helpless human creatures, so much so that one can’t help but wonder if the Uberverse accidently burped our/its consciousness out of a billion-to-one probability. Yet, we exist because we can ask if we exist; from atom to energy, we must exist. And therefore the energy by which we bestow can consequently effect the matter that we receive, and vise versa. Acoustic energies can reorganize synaptic circuitry, just as light and pressure can achieve the same. For scientists such as the one I pretend to be, it is fatally arrogant to discount energetic relations to matter as “witchcraft,” “religion,” or other tabloid adjectives. On the Uberversal continuum (which I suppose is the same continuum as all the others), matter and energy, big and small, love and hate... they all effect each other, just as the matter it requires to amass neurons to believe they effect each other -- or don’t effect each other -- also effect the energy which generated the inquisition in the first place: us. And so it appears that grandma may have been right about becoming what you eat. She just happened to leave out the probability, although infinitesimally small, that I might also eat what I are.
