The Sleepwalkers (258 page)

Compared
to
the
modern
physicist's
picture
of
the
world,
the
Ptolemaic
universe
of
epicycles
and
crystal
spheres
was
a
model
of
sanity.
The
chair
on
which
I
sit
seems
a
hard
fact,
but
I
know
that
I
sit
on
a
nearly
perfect
vacuum.
The
wood
of
the
chair
consists
of
fibres,
which
consist
of
molecules,
which
consist
of
atoms,
which
are
miniature
solar
systems
with
a
central
nucleus
and
electrons
for
planets.
It
all
sounds
very
pretty,
but
it
is
the
dimensions
that
matter.
The
space
which
an
electron
occupies
is
only
one
fifty-thousandth
in
diameter
of
its
distance
from
the
nucleus;
the
rest
of
the
atomic
interior
is
empty.
If
the
nucleus
were
enlarged
to
the
size
of
a
dried
pea,
the
nearest
electron
would
circle
around
it
at
a
distance
of
about
a
hundred
and
seventy-five
yards.
A
room
with
a
few
specks
of
dust
floating
in
the
air
is
overcrowded
compared
to
the
emptiness
which
I
call
a
chair
and
on
which
my
fundaments
rest.

But
it
is
doubtful
whether
it
is
permissible
to
say
that
the
electron
"occupies
space"
at
all.
Atoms
have
the
capacity
of
swallowing
energy
and
of
spitting
out
energy
–
in
the
form
of
light
rays,
for
instance.
When
a
hydrogen
atom,
the
simplest
of
all,
with
a
single
electron-planet,
swallows
energy,
the
planet
jumps
from
its
orbit
to
a
larger
orbit
–
say,
from
the
orbit
of
Earth
to
the
orbit
of
Mars;
when
it
emits
energy,
it
jumps
back
again
into
the
smaller
orbit.
But
these
jumps
are
performed
by
the
planet
without
it
passing
through
the
space
that
separates
the
two
orbits.
It
somehow
de-materializes
in
orbit
A
and
rematerializes
in
orbit
B.
Moreover,
since
the
amount
of
"action"
performed
by
the
hydrogen
electron
while
going
once
round
its
orbit
is
the
indivisibly
smallest
quantum
of
action
(Planck's
basic
constant
"h"),
it
is
meaningless
to
ask
at
what
precise
point
of
its
orbit
the
electron
is
at
a
given
moment
of
time.
It
is
equally
everywhere.
^15a
a

The
list
of
these
paradoxa
could
be
continued
indefinitely;
in
fact
the
new
quantum-mechanics
consist
of
nothing
but
paradoxa,
for
it
has
become
an
accepted
truism
among
physicists
that
the
sub-atomic
structure
of
any
object,
including
the
chair
I
sit
on,
cannot
be
fitted
into
a
framework
of
space
and
time.
Words
like
"substance"
or
"matter"
have
become
void
of
meaning,
or
invested
with
simultaneous
contradictory
meanings.

Thus
beams
of
electrons,
which
are
supposedly
elementary
particles
of
matter,
behave
in
one
type
of
experiment
like
little
pellets,
but
in
another
type
of
experiment
they
behave
like
waves;
conversely,
rays
of
light
behave
sometimes
like
waves
and
at
other
times
like
bullets.
Consequently,
the
ultimate
constituents
of
matter
are
both
substance
and
non-substance,
lumps
and
waves.
But
waves
in,
on,
of
what?
A
wave
is
movement,
undulation;
but
what
is
it
that
moves
and
undulates,
producing
my
chair?
It
is
nothing
the
mind
can
conceive
of,
not
even
empty
space,
for
each
electron
requires
a
three-dimensional
space
for
itself,
two
electrons
need
six
dimensions,
three
electrons
nine
dimensions,
to
co-exist.
In
some
sense
these
waves
are
real:
we
can
photograph
the
famous
dart-board
pattern
they
produce
when
they
pass
through
a
diffraction
grate;
yet
they
are
like
the
grin
of
the
Cheshire
cat.
"For
ought
we
know,"
says
Bertrand
Russell,
"an
atom
may
consist
entirely
of
the
radiations
which
come
out
of
it.
It
is
useless
to
argue
that
radiations
cannot
come
out
of
nothing...
The
idea
that
there
is
a
little
hard
lump
there,
which
is
the
electron
or
proton,
is
an
illegitimate
intrusion
of
commonsense
notions
derived
from
touch...'Matter'
is
a
convenient
formula
for
describing
what
happens
where
it
isn't."
¹⁶

These
waves,
then,
on
which
I
sit,
coming
out
of
nothing,
travelling
through
a
non-medium
in
multi-dimensional
nonspace,
are
the
ultimate
answer
modern
physics
has
to
offer
to
man's
question
after
the
nature
of
reality.
The
waves
that
seem
to
constitute
matter
are
interpreted
by
some
physicists
as
completely
immaterial
"waves
of
probability"
marking
out
"disturbed
areas"
where
an
electron
is
likely
to
"occur".
"They
are
as
immaterial
as
the
waves
of
depression,
loyalty,
suicide,
and
so
on,
that
sweep
over
a
country."
¹⁷
From
here
there
is
only
one
step
to
calling
them
abstract,
mental,
or
brain
waves
in
the
Universal
Mind
–
without
irony.
Imaginative
scientists
of
such
different
persuasion
as
Bertrand
Russell
on
the
one
hand,
Eddington
and
Jeans
on
the
other,
have
indeed
come
very
near
to
taking
this
step.
Thus
Eddington
wrote: