String Theory and its bearing on Pancakes

When you don't have your iPod plugged into your head (okay, my battery died and...), you can take advantage of the opportunity to eavesdrop on your fellow strap-hangers. Most of the time you are privy only to pointless gossip, a mortar attack of the “F” bomb, or the periodic discussion of string theory and the pancake-like structure of the 26 (or 10) dimensions that make up the fabric of the universe.

“Pancakes. I love pancake! A short stack with real, lightly salted butter and a kiss of authentic maple syrup – that is the fabric of our multi-dimensional universe.”

Dimensions should be kept to ten – twenty-six is a number hard to wield, and no fun to type. Like a good menu, less is usually more. Menus with too many things to choose from can cause diner-tension. But then, tension is a fundamental parameter of supersymmetry, which we need in order to keep it all pulled together. Sometimes, I feel supersymmetric, powerful, multi-dimensional, even photonic, but at the same time irritated by the eon-long wait between entrée and appetizer, or between L trains on a Friday night. Twenty-six dimensions, twenty-six minutes between trains and hundreds of comments to listen to.

Two young women with matching outfits and pony tails are discussing the 24 hour eatery that they are headed to. “It’s not like a diner, you know, but, it’s like, open and that’s like, okay with me, because, like, right now, I am so like, hungry. You know what I mean? And there’s like, you know, a lot of stuff there. It’s not like, you know, you can’t find something that you like, like.”

Diner menus always have about three-hundred items listed. I’d like to try ordering them all, one or two at a time. But I always end up ordering the same thing – feta cheeseburger deluxe with a side of mustard. I never get to the Salisbury steak or the tuna melt or the health salad or the pot roast or the open-faced meat-loaf sandwich. I am just not as supersymmetric as I would like to believe. I have been compactified and am stuck in my own loop. Time to regroup.

The other young women nods her head knowingly. “I so want pancakes, you know what I mean?”

The reason I don’t order the pancakes is that they always disappoint me. The batter isn’t right – there is too much flour; the griddle is too hot – the outside of the pancakes virtually burns while the inside reamins underdone; the butter is margarine; the syrup has no molecular relationship whatsoever to a maple tree. Pancakes can be delectable, but more often than not they are cardboard-like discs slathered in processed & fake-flavored condiments that will not break down easily in the landfill. Ick.

“I like, can’t eat pancakes anymore,” the mostly-talks one says. “They like, remind me of like one night when I was like totally bombed, and I was like, with my friends from school, and we were like, drinking some kind of like vodka or something, and then like, we decided that we would like….”

Meanwhile to my right, “String theory hasn’t been verified. Show me a version of string theory that can make a prediction other theories haven’t already made and I'll buy the pancakes. Anyway, it's still in larval stage, so we can’t really argue that ….”

Of all the multi-dimensions I had to end up in…ooh! It’s my stop!

Tags:   ipod, pancakes, string theory

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Posted on 10/4/2005 ( Permanent Link )
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