I think I’ve just disproved Schrodinger’s thought experiment. You know, the one with the cat.
‘Oh darn,’ (or words to that effect) I exclaimed shortly after dark. ‘I can’t remember if I closed the chicken house or not.’
‘It’s irrelevant anyway,’ Number One Son said immediately.
I paused in the act of putting on my boots. ‘Hold on a minute – are you saying they’re Schrödinger’s chickens – both closed-up and not closed-up?’
‘That’s right,’ N1S said smugly. ‘‘Either way, you’re not going to be happy until you’ve checked.’
I thought about this as I trudged off down the garden to collapse the wave function in the rain, but the more I thought the less happy with the idea I was. According to the theory, if I’d just turned on my heel, I’d have left the chickens in a state of quantum uncertainty. But in the morning, our cockerel would most definitely announce to the world if he was out or not – probably at 5am – collapsing the wave himself.
I wonder if there’s a subatomic equivalent of a randy rooster?
This has just solved the dilemma of naming a new brood without becoming too endeared Up, down, bottom, top, strange and charm (quark family)
Great idea! But who’s ever going to want to eat ‘strange chicken’?
I’d raise charmed chickens, happily! I’m grateful for the N1S’ perceptivity.