by Ulf Wolf
According to quantum mechanics, the two photons would maintain this intimate and instant connection even across galaxies. This, of course, is more difficult to test and prove, but it’s a fascinating (and correct) prediction.
While most scientists agree that this is the case, this does not mean that science understands what is going on here, not really. Both philosophers and physicists are still trying to make sense out of this paradox.
Non-Local Communication
What is occurring between these two bonded twins has been termed non-local communication.
What exactly is it? The short answer is: It is the instant exchange of information between particles.
A longer answer would be: It is the instant exchange of information that by virtue of not being local (where local is defined as place consisting of space and time) and so not occupying time at all, indeed takes zero time to exchange.
In fact, in non-local communication, there is no particle exchange involved. There cannot be. There is no message-particle traversing distance. There is simply a shared knowing, one particle to another, which—regardless of physical distance between them—does not take a thousandth, nor a millionth, nor a billionth of a second, nor a trillionth or a trillionth of a trillionth of a second, but is truly instant.
Much should have been made about the 1997 Geneva experiment; and even more should have been made of Doctor Lawson’s April 1999 experiment—which showed, on an incontrovertible scale, that non-local communication does indeed exist.
Yes, much should have been made about these experiments, but other matters occupied the world, and apart from brief mentions on pages three and four, or in the science section of the news broadcast, if mentioned there at all, the spectacular outcome of Doctor Lawson’s proof was for all intents and purposes ignored by one and all outside of the scientific community—which did, by and large, accept the findings.
What Does Non-Local Consist Of?
Once non-local communication had been establish as reality, many particle physicists (and an almost equal number of philosophers), naturally raised the question: How is this even possible? How can communication not travel? How can it be instant?
In fact, ever since his successful 1999 experiment Doctor Lawson has worked tirelessly to answer that question. In 2024 I was invited to study with him, and learn from him, and over the next few years I grew increasingly familiar with the constituent and underlying principles of what he was trying to show.
And the underlying principle is that subatomic particles react to life. Once life looks, the subatomic particle will present itself, either in terms of location or in terms of speed (though never both at the same time, life must choose what it wants to see).
In fact, prior to our EPROM experiment we had no way of establishing whether particles even existed when not observed. For to ascertain this one way or another one would have to observe, and—well, there went the premise of the experiment.
So how do you observe life when it’s not observed?
It is like looking for fairies.
Fairies—by fable and tradition—will never show themselves to anyone looking for them. But in order to catch a glimpse of them, you have to be on the lookout for them, or you’ll miss them, guaranteed. So, how do you look for them without looking for them? Without announcing your intentions? You don’t. That’s the bottom line, and is also why people as a rule don’t see fairies.
Those who do see fairies are apparently very lucky—or quite magical.
One approach we took was to attempt to “fake out” nature by masking the fact that we were indeed looking.
We’re Not Looking
This was attempted by repeating the Colombia-Borneo experiment, but instead of monitoring the particles directly, we sent the lasers’ measurement data via so many relays (in this case via sixteen communications satellites) in the hope that nature would lose track and not realize that at the very end of the string of relays there would be a human eye.
No such luck. Nature is not easily fooled.
Agreements
Considering this failure to fake nature out, one night I remembered—and how come I remembered is indeed part of this story, but more of that later—I remembered that nature sprung into being on the back of a string of agreements, agreed among itself by life to constitute the basic laws of physics, at least of classical physics—to become the laws of the macro world.
There were agreements made in the micro world as well, but these are by no means as firm, and (as discovered by Doctor Lawson and others) depend in large measure upon immediate interaction with life.
One level of agreement, however, allowed nature to revise history electrically. This was demonstrated by recording the state of a photon from point of ejection to point of later observation, only to find that the moment it was observed, the entire trajectory showed a certain polarity from the outset, even though we know for a fact that this polarity was indeed undecided for a time—up to the point of observation.
Another agreement, the one I remembered that night, and the one that allowed the EPROM experiment to succeed, in essence established the laws that prohibited nature from revising history when recorded on what we call EPROMs.
RAM vs. EPROM
Comparing RAM with EPROM we find that volatile RAM can be revised with the manipulation of electricity, and this nature knows how to do. To revise a non-volatile EPROM, however, requires a generous helping of ultra-violet light which, if not supplied, cannot be manufactured by nature on the fly, and so, any data recorded up the point of observation cannot be altered once observation has taken place and nature has made up its mind what properties to exhibit.
The EPROM Experiment
Our EPROM experiment was in fact a modified version of the Colombia-Borneo Experiment with the flight path of one of the photons recorded both on volatile RAM and on non-volatile EPROM.
Once observed, the RAM (by nature’s version of revisionist history) recorded that both the particle itself and the observed polarity had existed since the firing of the particle.
The EPROM, on the other hand, traced the initial four seconds of the particle’s trajectory (which Doctor Lawson and I observed on the RAM-fed screen) but then showed nothing from seconds five through eight when we both looked away and at the ceiling.
The EPROM-fed screen then took up the particle trace again from seconds nine (when we both returned to observing its progress on the RAM-fed monitor) through twelve and arrival at its detector beam.
The key here is that at five seconds through second eight, the EPROM recorded nothing at all. There was no particle there to record.
This bears repeating. Between seconds five and eight, nothing was recorded in the EPROM (and no trace shown on its monitor) because: there was no particle there. Not a trace.
And again: There was no particle there.
Life, by looking, coaxed this particle into existence.
Experiment Validated
This experiment is not a one-off fluke. Not only did Doctor Lawson and I run this experiment a total of twelve times—four on the initial day, and eight more times a few days later—but four international teams have replicated the experiment and attested to its veracity.
These four teams were from UCLA in Los Angeles, MIT in Massachusetts; QUT (Queensland University of Technology) in Brisbane, Australia; and KTH (Royal Institute of Technology) in Stockholm, Sweden.
All four ran a series of twelve tests, and each single test replicated ours and confirmed our findings.
The fact that life “exists” (using this word as transitive verb for a change) these particles into being by observing them is no longer theory, it is a proven fact.
When life looked away, there was nothing there. The moment life looked back, the nothing instantly became a something.
Fact.
Micro vs Macro World
We have proven that quantum (micro) particles, for all intents and purposes vanish when not observed and appear when observed. T
hat said, I am pretty certain that the (macro) keyboard I currently use to type this will not vanish if I look away.
Why not?
The laws governing micro and macro worlds are different. However, this does not repudiate the fact that the macro world consists of micro world congregations.
Who Am I?
I mentioned above that I remembered the sequence of agreements that allowed the EPROM to record the truth of the particle vs. life in such a way that nature could not revise its history. How could I remember such things?
As I said at the beginning of this paper, there is nothing but life. We are all nothing but life.
Those who have woken up to this fact are called Buddhas.
Those who have notions of this fact are called artists.
Those who see none of these facts are the public at large.
I am awake.
:: 91 :: (Los Angeles)
Federico Alvarez was in it for the money. That, and the fame. And he did not hide that light under as much as a hint of a bushel. Rather, he was proud of it, and enjoyed enlightening all and sundry about how (well) and why he did what he did.
He was KCAA’s investigative reporter, with a lot of scalps to his credit, as he liked to put it. He also liked to enlighten anyone within earshot about his ratings—unmatched, he’d inform them. Unmatched. It’s a big word that, meaning a lot of money, both for his station and for his wallet.
He was also extremely well connected.
“Connected,” in this business is normally reflected in “reciprocal favors,” and is primarily a matter of the accounting of these favors—who’s in debt, who’s accumulated credit.
Federico, over the years, had accumulated sizeable credit.
That is why, by mid-afternoon on the fourth of May—after calling in some major favors owed him—he had managed to secure an exclusive interview with the wunderkind Ruth Marten, the author if this extraordinary paper, that now made the rounds, both in the papers and on the radio and television news.
The interview was set for Saturday the eighth of May, which—in his own estimation—should give him just about enough time to dig around a little and expose her as the fraud she was.
:
Federico was in his first real fight at age six. The wealthy Buenos Aires neighborhood where he grew up was not, like some others in that city, known for violence, but then again, fights among children—though they can be as life-threatening (though perhaps not literally) as any—don’t really count.
To this day he remembers the fight, and the reason for it. His mother, an American born in New York who during her Buenos Aires residency had met and married his father, also a doctor (though a surgeon, not internal medicine, like his mother), had received a care package from New York, which included the latest fashion for children, apparently: A checkered cap, which she proudly bestowed upon him.
Truth be told, he liked it, even if it made him look a little out of place—no one in Buenos Aires, if not in the entire country, wore a cap like this. So, he donned it, and went out to share the wealth.
Out of place, indeed. Within minutes it seemed, he had become the laughing stock of his and many neighboring blocks in his part of town. It was as if kids migrated in his direction just to scorn.
Now, Federico Alvarez loved and adored his mother, so when the taunts (which up to this point he took in stride) expanded in scope to include his mother and the fact that she was an ugly (not true) gringo bitch, he had to defend her.
Carlos, the fat kid who seemed to head up this delegation of taunt, said it again, “Look at what the ugly gringo bitch has bought him, the little doll.”
Once Federico had decided to draw blood in her defense, he found an odd stillness within, a sort of certainty that he could and would win—a feeling that was to stay with him all his life. He took four quick steps into the fat bully and nearly knocked him over.
“Say that again,” he said. “And I’ll kill you.”
The bully, now unable to back down even if he wanted to (and he did, actually) obliged, “The ugly gringo bitch has bought the little doll a doll’s hat.”
Children’s bones are softer than those of the grown, which is the only reason Federico did not break the bully’s nose—soft knuckles hitting soft nose, which rather than breaking simply sprung a terrible leak and bled not only all over the bully but all over Federico as well, who now wrestled him to the ground where he proceeded to pummel his puffy face with a string of soft-knuckled blows, which nonetheless managed to shut bully eyes for the next few days.
It can only be speculated what might have happened had not Mr. and Mrs. Moreno walked by just then, and between them, after much tearing and pulling of boys’ limbs and clothing, finally succeed in tearing Federico off the bully, now openly crying for his mother.
The following day, Federico wore his New York cap, boldly, proudly, and not a word was said about it—in fact, two days later someone else showed up with a similar cap, and a day after that three more caps appeared. The new trend in American children’s fashion was taking root in Buenos Aires courtesy of Federico Alvarez.
His uncle, Lautaro Alvarez, a highly ranked Argentine amateur boxer in his day and who still put in a fight or two “just to keep in shape, and to teach the young ones a lesson or two,” got wind of Federico’s recent encounter and decided to tutor him a little, something he figured would always come in handy. Federico’s mom objected, but his dad, Lautaro’s younger brother, did not, and after some discussions where Federico himself was given the final say, off to the gym they went; twice a week for the next many months and then weekly until Federico moved to New York City with his parents a few days after his eighth birthday, now showing great—in fact, more than great, as Lautaro put it—promise as a boxer.
“Over my dead body,” said his mom.
“You’re welcome,” said Lautaro.
Even though his mother had always spoken English to him as he grew up (“He has to know both,” she insisted and his father agreed) his accent clearly marked him as an outsider in New York, and to make a long story short, let’s say that Lautaro’s coaching was to come in very handy over the next few years.
He called them “scraps” or “nothings” when his mother asked—applying Band-Aids here and there and, in her opinion, far too often; he called them “confrontations” when his father asked. Where he had picked up that word he wasn’t quite sure.
Himself, he thought of them as “teaching lessons” and what he would call his local encounters among his peers was “kicking ass.”
But whatever the label, he did fight a lot, and seldom his own fights; more often than not he was pressed into service by his neighborhood, to defend their honor, to right some wrong, to stand up for his part of town. Hero-stuff.
And that’s what he liked, the hero part. Worth a lot of cuts and bruises, the hero business.
Until one day when a kid from Queens pulled a knife in the middle of a fight and all but cut his right little finger off. His mom threw a fit (but only after ascertaining that everything that could be done to rescue the finger had been done, and successfully at that). His dad echoed her sentiments, and he was made to swear—No, Federico, really swear—to stop fighting.
He swore, and he kept his promise. He never again fought—physically.
The truth is that he kept fighting, only the venue had changed.
And that is how he got into broadcasting. For he was both intelligent (though not scholarly so, Ivy Leagues were not lining up scholarships or anything) and tenacious, and after securing an office-boy job at one of the New York radio stations—in a wild display of true talent for the job—he broke through when, with the help of neighborhood connections (for he had already at this time built up a strong credit side in the favors ledger) he managed to obtain an interview with a rape victim that no one else at the station, or any other station for that matter, whether radio or television, could reach.
Hero again. And he liked it. No, loved it. Lived for i
t. True calling.
To the credit of the owner of the station, he did not wait for an opening, he simply created the job of “Investigative Reporter” and gave it to Federico, who grabbed it, ran with it, and shone.
And kept shining.
In 2010 he received an offer from television station WNYW which he simply could not turn down. Out of loyalty, he did check with his boss to see what he thought, and the old man could not but agree, he had to make the move.
He worked at WNYW for nearly ten years before moving out to Los Angeles where his now wife had grown up and to where she wanted to return. KCAA jumped the fastest and highest to secure his services and he has been their star reporter ever since.
To be honest, perhaps his coverage over the years has veered a little toward the sensational—some would even say toward the tabloid, but to be frank Federico Alvarez does not give a damn. His ratings continue to blow the competition out of the water and so the figures on his paychecks (which his street-wise contract negotiations tied to his ratings) keep growing. Laughing all the way to the bank, as they say. Twice a month.
And now, by wits and guts and by tapping his store of favors owed, he had landed what he considered the interview of the century and was busy preparing.
:: 92 :: (Burbank)
Federico was reading Ruth Marten’s paper for a fourth time; or was it a fifth, or a sixth time?, he had lost count. He made yet another note in the margin, joining the score or so already there, climbing up and down the margins in his careless hand. He circled another point, underlined something else, checked back to the beginning of the paper, read the opening paragraphs again: “Nothing exists but life. Before the beginning there was life. Or, perhaps better put, there was a stillness, a spaceless and timeless nothing which nonetheless held the potential of life.”
