Mr g (5 page)

What a disagreeable fellow, said Uncle Deva. And arrogant. Did you see how he strutted about, as if he owned the place.

He has a bad odor, said my aunt. I’d like to know his origins. If I had the power, I would—

I fail to understand why we have to tolerate that disagreeable fellow, said Uncle. He is causing discord and bad feelings, after eons and eons in which everyone here in the Void got along beautifully.

Quite right, said Aunt. Then she began looking about. She frowned. Where is our universe? Did that abominable creature, that Baphomet, take it with him? We’ve lost the universe. The last time I saw it, the beast was batting it back and forth, acting like he was going to eat it.

My uncle and aunt began pacing about in search of Aalam-104729, she moving much more rapidly than he, of course. They peered under layers of nothingness, thrashed at diaphanous tendrils and veils of the emptiness, listened intently as if they might hear the slight rumblings and regurgitations of the infant universe.

Where is it? muttered Aunt Penelope. I will strangle that monster myself. Both of them. Where could the universe be? It was not so large, really. Still a small universe. Not so big. Not so big. Where is it? Where is it? Aunt Penelope was walking around in great circles, periodically returning to where Uncle stood, glancing at him with a frown, then setting off again. Meanwhile, my uncle toddled about in no particular direction, confused and concerned.

I am not sure how much time passed in this state of affairs, as I was brooding over the conversation with Belhor. Finally, my aunt spoke up: Nephew, don’t just stand there. Might you take it upon yourself to provide some assistance?

I, who could see everything at once, perceived that Aalam-104729 was some distance away behind a fleeting hillock of nothingness, lying on its side as if it had been carelessly tossed away by the ever-grinning Baphomet. There it is, I said.

Oh, cried Uncle, and he shuffled over to the spot and scooped up the castaway universe and cradled it against himself. I am getting attached to this little universe, he whispered. I am embarrassed to say that I am becoming attached to it. He held the universe for a while and then placed it gingerly in a fold of the Void.

Attachment leads to disappointment, I said. I liked to ruffle Aunt and Uncle now and then when I could.

Yes, yes, I know, said my uncle.

I found myself still agitated, as I was after Belhor’s first intrusion. But when I gazed upon Aalam-104729, a rosy plump ball, already considerably larger than when I had last noticed it, I felt a sense of calm and hopeful expectation. So much was possible with a new universe. And I now understood Belhor’s comment that this universe would make all of us more than we were now. For vast epochs of unmeasured time, we had slumbered, we had existed in beautiful but vacuous nothingness. In retrospect, we had been colossally
bored
. This plump, expanding sphere, ripening with possibilities, could change everything. It was smaller than us, but also bigger. And there it sat quietly in a small furrow of the Void, seemingly none the worse for its rough handling by Baphomet.

It will want some tending, said Aunt Penelope.

I don’t think so, I said. I’ve given it several laws and a few quantum parameters. Cause and effect. I think it can fend for itself.

Please, said Aunt P. The thing is so … Tender, said Uncle Deva.

To oblige my uncle and aunt, I entered the universe again and looked about. Indeed, the cosmos was humming along, in no need of my help. Since my last visit, the universe had cooled, and more kinds of particles were able to sustain unions with one another under their mutual attraction. I was intrigued by the varieties of things and effects. Triplets of quarks had combined to form neutrons and protons. These flew about at a ferocious speed, surrounded always by an ultraviolet haze of soft gluons and occasionally emitting gamma rays as they ricocheted off other frenetic nuggets of matter. Particles spun about their internal axes. Particles swerved in magnetic fields. Particles careened and accelerated and annihilated into pure energy. Here and there, bunched pockets of electrons or positrons would form, slight deviations from the mean density, and these unbalanced charged regions oscillated and vibrated in response to the electrical attractions and repulsions between them. Following my laws for the electromagnetic force, each such quivering of charged particles unleashed a flood of polarized photons with kaleidoscopic colors, creating a display far more spectacular than the evanescent veils of the Void. There were cascades and blooms of light, spiraling helices of energy, resonant oscillations of quark clouds. And the most eerie sounds: ultra-high-frequency moans and rips and dissonant crescendos as the gaseous plasma filling up space shuddered with each passing shock wave and compression of energy. Necessarily, there were small valleys and summits of matter and energy, inhomogeneities. The force of gravity struggled to strengthen these scattered accumulations, but the particles were so energetic and hot that gravity seemed almost nonexistent. That situation would eventually change as the universe expanded and cooled further. Between condensations of matter, the vacuum was constantly erupting with pairs of particles and their antiparticles so that there was not a single dollop of space that could be said to be sleeping. Indeed, the “vacuum” of space seethed with the creation and annihilation of new particles. In these early moments of the new universe, every pinprick of mass flew about with nearly the same speed as the photons, the maximum speed allowed by the laws. Space was a buzzing blur of subatomic particles, whizzing about at fantastic speed in crisscrossing patterns, zipping about and deflecting and colliding with one another. Energy fields lay across the cosmos in vast, floppy blankets, slightly shuddering as they created each new particle or absorbed other particles into their folds. And in every volume of existence, quantum physics held sway. Particles acted as waves, waves as particles. Alternate realities shimmered at every position of space. Matter and energy appeared and disappeared, merged into each other, and exchanged identities. And at the tiniest sizes of somethingness, quantum fluctuations and gravity conspired to tessellate the very geometry of existence.

It was exhilarating. It was glorious. It was more than I had imagined. At the same time, it was all entirely logical. All of it followed inexorably and irrefutably from the few laws I had laid down. I had to do nothing but sit back and watch as the cosmos unfolded in time.

Time. As yet, time was unmeasured and unmeasurable. But that was soon to change, with the formation of hydrogen atoms.

As Aalam-104729 continued to expand and to cool, there came a point at which it was sufficiently tepid that electrons could be captured and held by protons to form atoms of hydrogen, the simplest of atoms. In each hydrogen atom, a single electron orbited a single proton. Hydrogen atoms were my first atoms. They were lovely. Some were spherical, others ovaloid or dipoloid, depending on the quantum state of the orbiting electron. Patterns within patterns within patterns, all perfect as the number π and precisely determined by the few quantum rules I had given. The atoms glowed as their revolving electrons emitted photons. They faintly hummed. And the atoms gave matter a sponginess, a kind of cushiony texture it did not have before.

Most importantly, hydrogen atoms served as the first clocks. The light emitted by these atoms vibrated with a precise regularity in time, always exactly the same, each vibration being one tick of the clock. Peak and trough and peak and trough and peak and trough—tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. Now any duration of time could be measured by how many ticks of an atom of hydrogen. In these terms, Aalam-104729 was at this instant 4.52948 x 10
²⁹
atomic ticks old. The first neutrons and protons had begun forming at about 2.5 x 10
⁹
atomic ticks after the birth of the universe, the first atoms at about 3 x 10
²⁸
. I was somewhat surprised to realize that a great deal of time had already elapsed, at least in terms of the beats of the atoms of hydrogen.

Now we had clocks. Now time not only existed, but it could also be quantified, it could be measured, it could be carved up into pieces equal to the quantum throbbings of atoms. Now we could do far more than say that something happened in the past. We could say precisely how far in the past. And the duration of happenings and events, the time elapsed between A and B, could be assigned a definite number. The concepts of fast or slow, lazy or brisk gained a definite meaning. At last, I could measure the interval between Aunt Penelope’s great heaves and snores as she lay sleeping (typically 10
²⁰
atomic ticks when she retired in a good mood, less when she was disgruntled). One of Aunt P’s interminable speeches, advising me to do this or that, often took 10
²¹
or 10
²²
ticks. And one of Uncle D’s leisurely walks around the Void occupied between 10
²⁵
and 10
²⁶
ticks. (Compared to these events, my thoughts were so rapid as to be almost instantaneous, occupying a mere one-millionth of one-trillionth of one-trillionth of a single atomic tick.) I hesitated to calculate exactly how long I’d been doing absolutely nothing, how long all of us had slept in our torporous amnesia.

As time and space were connected by the speed of light, the quantification of time naturally led to a quantification of space. Now any length could be measured in terms of the distance traveled by a photon of light during one tick of an atomic clock. In these terms, the diameter of a neutron was one-hundredth of one-millionth of a light-atomic-tick. The diameter of an atom was a hundred thousand times larger. The diameter of the entire universe, judging by how long it took a photon to traverse the distance, was 9 x 10
²⁹
light-atomic-ticks, and growing larger each moment.

Delighted to have a reliable method to quantify reality, I immediately set about measuring everything I could find. I measured the size of certain quark condensations: 10
⁻⁷
light-atomic-ticks. The average size of a matter inhomogeneity: 10
²⁷
light-atomic-ticks. The time for a particular basin of antimatter to annihilate with matter: 1,003 atomic ticks. The time for the universe to double its size: 10
³⁰
atomic ticks.

Uncle Deva was appalled that I might now lay ruler and clock to the Void. He appreciated what I had achieved, he said, but I was going too far. Too far? Tell me, said my uncle, what do you know about a thing when you know precisely its size and its duration? You know precisely nothing, that’s what you know. But how can you compare the thing to other things? I protested. Why should you compare? said Uncle. Each thing possesses its own special essence, which has nothing to do with anything else. Understand the essence of a thing, said Uncle, and you know everything you need to know. And I guarantee that the essence is not how many what-you-may-call-it atom flicks you’ve got. No sir. You’re only fooling yourself.

Aunt P looked suspiciously at the loose hydrogen atoms I’d brought back to the Void. Don’t you dare measure me with those gadgets, she said. But I was only … No ifs, ands, or buts, said my aunt. I am
unmeasurable
, and I aim to stay that way. Period. I don’t want some half-witted creature in some universe or other quoting my measurements. Just don’t bring those gadgets into the Void. Let them stay where they are. Amen, said Uncle.

It seemed that I was the only one who took pleasure in the new clocks and rulers.

Bound by causal necessities, requiring not a single touchup or tinker from me, events in Aalam-104729 proceeded on their own with an impressive inevitability. As the universe continued to expand, its material contents cooled further and further. The brilliant displays of light slowly dimmed. And the attractive force of gravity began to dominate and reshape the terrain. Whereas before, small condensations of matter would quickly evaporate under the high heat, now they grew larger and denser. Lumps of material, most of it hydrogen gas, began to condense here and there. In the past history of the universe, matter had been rather evenly spread about, but now there were ridges and valleys, arches, amorphous aggregations, all bunching themselves up into ever denser bulges as each particle of mass gravitationally attracted other particles. The smooth, almost fluid topography of matter before had been beautiful, but these architectural constructions were even more beautiful. There were linear filaments. There were sheets. There were hollowed-out spherical cavities. There were ellipsoids and spheroids and topological hyperboloids. Great clouds of hydrogen gas swirled and flattened and spun out spiral wisps and trails. And within these spinning galaxies of matter, smaller knots of gas formed, collapsed on themselves, and grew denser and hotter—in opposite fashion to the rest of the universe, which was thinning and cooling.

After 10
³¹
ticks of the atom clocks, a wondrous new phenomenon occurred. Each knot of gas in each galaxy had reshaped itself into an almost perfect sphere, which grew hotter and hotter as it contracted under its own gravity. Eventually, the heat was so high in these globules of mass that their hydrogen atoms began to fuse with each other to make helium atoms, the next simplest element after hydrogen. In every atomic tick, trillions of these fusions occurred, releasing vast quantities of nuclear energy. Just moments before, these ubiquitous spheroids of gas had been only dark pebbles in the darkness of space. Now they were shining, bursting forth with energy. The first stars had been born.

I remember where and when I beheld the first star in the universe. Actually, I was taking a long walk in the Void with my uncle, listening to him hum his favorite piece of music, a dissonant screech of a tune, when I noticed something change inside Aalam-104729. A tiny light shone in one of the billions of dim galaxies. (Uncle has since named this particular galaxy that spawned the first star Ma’or, and the first star itself Al-Maisan.) Looking more closely, I saw that a single globule of mass, less than one-trillionth the size of the galaxy, was producing all the light. Such a tiny speck in comparison to the galaxy. Yet it was unmistakable. In the black reaches of space, this single pinprick of light could be seen. It gleamed and it pierced. The ultraviolet radiation emanating from this dollop of matter raced outward in all directions into the surrounding gas and disintegrated the nearby atoms, tearing the electrons from their protons. As the electrons reunited with the protons, cascading down to lower and lower energy levels and emitting light as they did so, a spherical cocoon of gas around the star began to glow with violets and yellows and oranges and reds. The star now appeared as a point of ultraviolet light at the center of a soft glowing cloud of many colors.

Then, one by one, other stars ignited. There. And there, and there. Now there were hundreds, thousands, millions of ultraviolet points surrounded by soft glowing clouds. And then, as I was watching, a different galaxy, a million galactic diameters away, began to light up with stars. There. Then another. Another. Billions of galaxies were sparkling with stars.

Look, Uncle, I said. Do you see what has happened in our universe? But, of course, Uncle Deva could not see into the universe, which was at that moment sitting quietly in Aunt Penelope’s lap as she rocked in her chair. From the outside, Aalam-104729 looked the same as it had before, although it continued to get larger as always. From the outside, there was no hint of the metamorphosis inside. Come, I said, I will show you. And I compressed my aunt and uncle to small dancing dots and took them into the universe and led them through space, from one galaxy to the next, a galaxy at each stride. For billions of ticks, they said nothing. They only nodded and smiled.

I never saw anything like this, said Aunt P. I …  I never saw anything like this. I would like some of these things in the Void. Can you bring them back home to the Void? I am not sure that is a good idea, dear, said Uncle Deva. Why is it not a good idea? Because, said Uncle, the Void has its own essence. And this universe has its own essence. These beautiful lights should stay here, where they belong. We can visit. Oh, it is such a beautiful, beautiful thing you have created, Nephew. I did nothing but make a few organizational principles, I said. I am tired of your modesty, said Aunt P. For once, can you not admit that you are a genius? You are an artist of the highest rank. And a mathematician of the highest rank, said Uncle Deva. And a physicist. All of those things, said my aunt. We have genius in our family, I have always known that. Wait, said Uncle Deva. I can hear something. Listen. Do you hear it? I hear it, said Aunt P. It is music, lovely, like in the Void, but different. It is the music of the galaxies, said my uncle.