Multiverse theory has been a part of science fiction literature for a long time. It's part of my underlying philosophy, and, as an amateur theoretical physicist, it is the core of my understanding of the world.
I know "amateur theoretical physicist" isn't a thing as we ordinarily think of things. Marshall McLuhan (and Robert Oppenheimer) knew that our obsession with specialization and expertise would be our undoing. As leading experts in each and every field refine their skill and knowledge, their focus sharpens and their view tightens. An entire flowchestra of new ideas and different thinking is lost in this honing. And capitalism pours gasoline on the spreading conflagration of narrowing knowledge.
And so it is that I am an amateur theoretical physicist. As such, I have created a theory of the universe, and in particular, of dark matter, which has yet (to my knowledge) to have been disproven. I devised this theory in the late 1990s, wrote it down on a scrap of notebook paper, and promptly lost that piece of paper – but the theory goes something like this:
Not so long ago, any voicing of serious statements regarding an alternate reality was met with glances toward the wings (expecting madman collectors with those big sticks with hoops on the end to enter, naturally). Of course still today, it's a scoffed at science, but the conversation can be entered speculatively.
More than any other response, I find that after a bit of mental drubbing - people eventually come to a point with regard to alternate realities where they say, essentially, "well, if they're inaccessible and can't be observed in any way, what difference does it make whether they're real or not?"
I find this question both conclusive and inconceivable. Scientifically, asking a question that may not be able to be answered (because it can't be tested, investigated, or observed) is an empty exercise. Philosophically, cosmologically, theoretically, spiritually, psychologically, and in most other ways I think any interesting question is worth asking. Particular when that question is central to the nature of our existence.
I know "amateur theoretical physicist" isn't a thing as we ordinarily think of things. Marshall McLuhan (and Robert Oppenheimer) knew that our obsession with specialization and expertise would be our undoing. As leading experts in each and every field refine their skill and knowledge, their focus sharpens and their view tightens. An entire flowchestra of new ideas and different thinking is lost in this honing. And capitalism pours gasoline on the spreading conflagration of narrowing knowledge.
And so it is that I am an amateur theoretical physicist. As such, I have created a theory of the universe, and in particular, of dark matter, which has yet (to my knowledge) to have been disproven. I devised this theory in the late 1990s, wrote it down on a scrap of notebook paper, and promptly lost that piece of paper – but the theory goes something like this:
We live in a multi-dimensional universe. Sharing our same space are other us-es and more of what is ours and on which we stand, it’s simply not perceivable to us because we are ‘out of phase’ with it in some fundamental way. (This phasic concept is something articulated well in Star Trek: The Next Generation, but it’s not anything that I’m beholden to with regard to this theory).
These neighboring universes may well be the product of probability (i.e. each time Schrödinger’s Cat is dead, it’s also alive in the universe right next door). If this is true, then these multiverse are also the product of choice – that is, when I turn left I also turn right and the two near twins split ways. As you continue down that rabbit-hole, all possible (and perhaps impossible?) worlds exist.
Source: www.bnox.be
It’s also plausible that these neighboring universes are (perhaps also) a copy of our own, but at a different moment in time (this was the theory of that short-lived Terra Nova show, that stepping into the faraway past was not moving back in time in one's own universe, rather it was stepping into a parallel universe, which was existing at that long-ago moment).
Regardless of the makeup of all of these alternate realities, my theory is essentially that all of the matter and energy that makes up all of 'those universes' is perceived (though not seen or felt) as dark matter and dark energy in our own familiar world. The vast amounts of stuff in all the infinities of the multiverse outweighs the somewhat less vast (but not insignificant) amounts of the dark stuff in our universe. It's 'dark' because our ability to perceive through the veil between universes is virtually non-existent. The vastness of the amounts of it all gives us the glimpse we have.I account for this theory because it is an important part of my background noise. My purpose in setting out today, though, was to investigate to what extent multiverse theory has become a part of most everyone's background radiation.
Not so long ago, any voicing of serious statements regarding an alternate reality was met with glances toward the wings (expecting madman collectors with those big sticks with hoops on the end to enter, naturally). Of course still today, it's a scoffed at science, but the conversation can be entered speculatively.
More than any other response, I find that after a bit of mental drubbing - people eventually come to a point with regard to alternate realities where they say, essentially, "well, if they're inaccessible and can't be observed in any way, what difference does it make whether they're real or not?"
I find this question both conclusive and inconceivable. Scientifically, asking a question that may not be able to be answered (because it can't be tested, investigated, or observed) is an empty exercise. Philosophically, cosmologically, theoretically, spiritually, psychologically, and in most other ways I think any interesting question is worth asking. Particular when that question is central to the nature of our existence.
