A Little Bit of Chaos
Quantifying the Quantum
Quantum mechanics are weird, and I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing that the broader populace understands about quantum mechanics. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s the only thing I understand about quantum mechanics. Which is likely why my brain keeps circling back to think about it.
Once the science of concrete, defined phenomena, physics in the relativity age has striven to become the impressionist painting of the science world. No longer crafting itself through singular, perfect formulas, but instead opting for the clarity brought by a thousand little smudges. Light is perhaps a wave and perhaps a particle, and we shall use whichever suits us at the time. This electron is perhaps here and perhaps there, no way to really know, so we’ll draw a little cloud of possibility instead. The world of the quantum entity is confusing, contradictory, and difficult to measure, but if we simply bring together these slight brushstrokes of knowledge, they truly do create something.
It’s beautiful in its own way, and I also hate it. Such is my impulse, to fill the space between these little brushstrokes, until they create a more complete picture. To define this undefined. Such an urge is not the path of the physicist. Rather, it is to spend your time defining that which can be defined, and to accept that all of this blur which lies before you, remains as such because it cannot be clarified.
From what little physics I’ve taken, I get the impression that showing people all of the impossible stuff is a decent portion of the curriculum. Going through the mathematical proofs which allow us to calculate, say, the velocity of an electron, while simultaneously showing why this very act obscures the electron’s position. Classical physics in many ways is a tale of the triumph of mankind, an age of discovering knowledge never before seen. In true dramatic fashion, modern physics seems to be a tale of woe, as scientists discover all the things they cannot know.
But if we are to dwell in an age of woe, let us do it correctly. Let us then cry out, upon our knees in the midst of the pouring rain, Why?
Why does the world become impossible, as it shrinks in size? Impossible to measure, impossible to understand? With such effective magnifying glasses as math and experimentation on our side, why can we not see all that which might be seen? Why is it, that our discoveries only serve to reveal the undiscoverable?
An interesting answer occurred to me the other day. Perhaps such confusion is the only way we could hope to exist.
Amongst the doldrums of everyday life, it’s surprisingly easy to forget that you are a freakishly supermassive beast, capable of destroying great swaths of reality by the mere act of breathing. Cells are extremely tiny by human standards, and atoms are extremely tiny by cell standards, and electrons are extremely tiny by atom standards. Yet, you and I are composed of all of these, brought together in joyous harmony. This is surprising, right? Is this surprising? I suppose the most surprising thing about it is the idea that uncountable tiny bits and pieces can come together to form me, but also the air. Also the sea, and the ground, and the sky, and the stars. Why is it that, when stacked atop one another, all of these atoms do not form a giant, incoherent blob? When stretched to such a grand size, how to they paint such a detailed, intricate picture? Why doesn’t everything simply, homogenize?
Well, given our current knowledge of the quantum realm, it seems like everything actually does homogenize. When you get big, your location is predictable, your traits are measurable. Amongst the heights, we can discern what is a particle and what is a wave. We can simplify the basic mechanics of physics down to a few, fairly understandable formulas. The bigger you get, the easier it is to understand, well, everything. Although our world is remarkably diverse, it is still simpler, more intuitive, than the world of the small.
Size simplifies. Flip a coin once, and it’s very difficult to predict the result. No matter what you pick, you’re stuck with the result of either being 100% right, or 100% wrong. But, the more flips you take, the more this margin narrows. Ten coin flips, and you’re bound to get at least one right. A thousand, and it’s suddenly quite difficult to escape being right half the time. The bigger the sample, the more predictable the result.
So, let’s assume that this isn’t just a statistical trait, but a fundamental, universal one. The bigger you get, the more predictable you become. What does that mean, when we come face to face with a remarkably varied, unpredictable world, which is nonetheless freakishly massive? Well, either it means that my theory is flawed (which, y’know, fair enough), or it leads us to the conclusion that the microscopic realm must be even more varied and unpredictable, by its very nature.
Which leads us to consider the obtuse, contrary nature of quantum mechanics, not as abberant, but completely expected. In order for the world of titans to retain its fluidity, it is essential that their lessers dwell in a place of shattered chaos. The remarkable complexity which we find in the sky is nothing but an indicator of greater nuance to be found beneath.
Which repaints the recent travails of our physics departments, doesn’t it. Our tale of woe might be a simple case of mistaken expectations. As the physicians of our universe took to the belief that the small must be simple. That the convolutions of our size are the apex of what can be achieved. No, these are what make the trough. A taste of the trials to come. Not only are the stirrings of the miniscule more difficult to see, but they are more curious and chaotic than the mountains which they eventually move. Perhaps this is the way of the world. Perhaps we were in the wrong for ever believing it to be otherwise.
And perhaps, among these perhapses, all of this is the cause for some optimism. For, if the quantum realm is a simple place, and we already understand it fully, then it represents a dismal state of affairs. Our very existence is built upon indecipherables, impossibilities, and chance. A frontier which human knowledge cannot pierce. But if the realm of quanta is one of churning, complicated chaos? Filled with unintuitive mechanic, veiled to humanity by the ongoing premise of its own being; this is a state of affairs which can be overcome. So then, let the physicist weep, for the world is not so simple as he wished it to be. Then let this tale of tragedy end in a clamor of joy, for this very world is curiously, fascinatingly, enthrallingly more complex. And complexity? Well, complexity is something which can be solved.
One brushstroke at a time.