Adventure at the Lake (2)
Here's the promised second installment of It's Quantum. Duh! If you haven't yet read part one, it'll help. Here's part one.
After a short double-take, and a recollection of the sign near the lake that prohibited fishing, swimming, touching the water, throwing things in the water and everything else short of briefly glancing at the lake, I said, “Oh. Excuse me.”
The fisherman’s eyes were obscured by his oversized hat, but against all logic, I felt like I was being scrutinized. The rim of his hat gazed up at me from his reclining position.
“Nice net,” he said plainly. I looked at my net and blinked a few times. It was bright turquoise and said in bubble letters, “Science is Fun!” The frog that was molded into the plastic at end of the handle smiled goofily at me.
“Um, thanks,” I said uneasily.
“Your dragonfly went that way.” He pointed farther into the woods along the lake.
“Thanks.” I was about to take off again, when there was an enormous splash and the fisherman flew into the air with a great jolt. My feet nearly left the ground as I jumped from the surprise. The bushes surrounding the fisherman rustled violently as he struggled with his fishing rod, using all his might to avoid getting dragged into the water. I watched, frozen with amazement.
A few seconds later, he was dragging a monster of a fish out of the water, both of them dripping wet from the scuffle. His hat drooped sadly as he regarded the fish calmly while it flopped around in the underbrush, a safe distance from the water. It crushed whole bushes as it thrashed in its desperate attempt to get back to water. The fisherman saw my thunderstruck countenance and said dismissively, “I’ve caught bigger in these waters.”
“Bigger? That’s a friggin’ leviathan!” I said in wonder. “There are fish that big in the Guilford College pond?”
“I just caught a fish that size. The circumstances would suggest there are indeed fish that big in the Guilford College pond.”
“But how?”
“Ask why first.”
“What?”
“No, why.”
I considered this for a moment and asked, “Why?”
“Because,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Because what?”
“That’s all. Just because. That’s why. Now you can ask how.”
“How?” This was making no sense to me.
“Can’t tell you. But it’s all very quantum, you see.” He sniffed pointedly and went about putting more bait on his hook.
I had run out of things to say, so I just stood in the same place, staring at the fish, which was starting to get tired. Without looking up, the fisherman said simply, “Your dragonfly is coming back this way.”
“How do you know that?” I could feel my eyebrows scrunched together above my nose.
“Can’t tell you. But it’s all very quantum, you see.”
“Fine.” I was starting to see a pattern. I asked, “Why is it coming back?” I was expecting him to tell me it was coming back because it was indeed coming back, in the same way he had answered my question about the fish. I was wrong.
“How should I know?” he returned. “I’m not a dragonfly.”
“You’re not a fish, either.” I realized instantly that this didn’t make much sense when I said it.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He looked at me again, but I still only saw the brim of his hat.
“Never mind.” After seeing a gigantic fish being caught in the Guilford College pond against all reason, the dragonfly didn’t seem all that important anymore. I walked in a daze to the non-wooded part of the lake shore where the rest of the class was. Jenny was halfway there, trying to catch a ladybug on a blade of grass.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Get in the net.… In the net… Yes… No, no, no, no, no,” she exclaimed at the ladybug as the ladybug squatted resolutely on the blade of grass. “Oh! Hi, Burger!” she said when she saw me. “I’m trying to catch this…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the top of my head. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! You have a dragonfly on your head!”
I looked at her weakly. I was ready to go inside and never have to worry about dragonflies or fish again. She must be kidding, I thought. Without thinking, I asked her, “Why?”
“Because it is! Duh! Now catch it, quickly!”
I wasn’t about to smack myself upside the head with my net without good reason. All of this was just too much. “You know what? It’s going to stay right there. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because it will.”
She stared at me blankly and then looked back at the top of my head. “No it won’t. What are you talking about, anyway?” Just then, I felt a tiny weight lift from the top of my head. “There it goes! There it goes! Catch it, catch it, catch it!” She lashed out with her net, and brought it sweeping in a majestic arc to the ground. The dragonfly was in the net, trapped between the fabric of the net and the ground. “Yay! Look! I caught it!”
I wanted to laugh, but I just couldn’t muster the effort. I gave her what I suppose was a worn gaze. Enough of this nonsense, I decided. “How did you know which way it would fly so you could catch it?”
“What?” She asked as she watched it flapping around in the net. “I didn’t know where it would fly. I’m not a dragonfly.”
I wanted to say she wasn’t a fish, either, but I stopped myself. “Look,” I said, trying to speak reasonably, “I just want to know how you caught it.”
“That’s easy! You saw it. I swung my net, and now it’s right there, in my net, because it is.”
“Wait. Because what?”
“Because it is, silly!”
“I don’t get it.” I was on the verge of giving up.
“It’s quantum! Duh!”
I gave up. I plodded wearily back to the slope, to stare at the blue sky a bit more and think about something that made more sense. I never did catch a dragonfly for that project, but I convinced Jenny to give me one of her smaller ones since my head played such a crucial role in the capture of the big green one that I had chased around the lake. I ended up getting a very high grade on the project, though I can’t tell why. I decided not to think about it too hard; it was probably quantum.
In retrospect, I'm not thrilled with it, but it's probably worth posting anyway.
This concludes the (very)mini-series.
After a short double-take, and a recollection of the sign near the lake that prohibited fishing, swimming, touching the water, throwing things in the water and everything else short of briefly glancing at the lake, I said, “Oh. Excuse me.”
The fisherman’s eyes were obscured by his oversized hat, but against all logic, I felt like I was being scrutinized. The rim of his hat gazed up at me from his reclining position.
“Nice net,” he said plainly. I looked at my net and blinked a few times. It was bright turquoise and said in bubble letters, “Science is Fun!” The frog that was molded into the plastic at end of the handle smiled goofily at me.
“Um, thanks,” I said uneasily.
“Your dragonfly went that way.” He pointed farther into the woods along the lake.
“Thanks.” I was about to take off again, when there was an enormous splash and the fisherman flew into the air with a great jolt. My feet nearly left the ground as I jumped from the surprise. The bushes surrounding the fisherman rustled violently as he struggled with his fishing rod, using all his might to avoid getting dragged into the water. I watched, frozen with amazement.
A few seconds later, he was dragging a monster of a fish out of the water, both of them dripping wet from the scuffle. His hat drooped sadly as he regarded the fish calmly while it flopped around in the underbrush, a safe distance from the water. It crushed whole bushes as it thrashed in its desperate attempt to get back to water. The fisherman saw my thunderstruck countenance and said dismissively, “I’ve caught bigger in these waters.”
“Bigger? That’s a friggin’ leviathan!” I said in wonder. “There are fish that big in the Guilford College pond?”
“I just caught a fish that size. The circumstances would suggest there are indeed fish that big in the Guilford College pond.”
“But how?”
“Ask why first.”
“What?”
“No, why.”
I considered this for a moment and asked, “Why?”
“Because,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Because what?”
“That’s all. Just because. That’s why. Now you can ask how.”
“How?” This was making no sense to me.
“Can’t tell you. But it’s all very quantum, you see.” He sniffed pointedly and went about putting more bait on his hook.
I had run out of things to say, so I just stood in the same place, staring at the fish, which was starting to get tired. Without looking up, the fisherman said simply, “Your dragonfly is coming back this way.”
“How do you know that?” I could feel my eyebrows scrunched together above my nose.
“Can’t tell you. But it’s all very quantum, you see.”
“Fine.” I was starting to see a pattern. I asked, “Why is it coming back?” I was expecting him to tell me it was coming back because it was indeed coming back, in the same way he had answered my question about the fish. I was wrong.
“How should I know?” he returned. “I’m not a dragonfly.”
“You’re not a fish, either.” I realized instantly that this didn’t make much sense when I said it.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He looked at me again, but I still only saw the brim of his hat.
“Never mind.” After seeing a gigantic fish being caught in the Guilford College pond against all reason, the dragonfly didn’t seem all that important anymore. I walked in a daze to the non-wooded part of the lake shore where the rest of the class was. Jenny was halfway there, trying to catch a ladybug on a blade of grass.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Get in the net.… In the net… Yes… No, no, no, no, no,” she exclaimed at the ladybug as the ladybug squatted resolutely on the blade of grass. “Oh! Hi, Burger!” she said when she saw me. “I’m trying to catch this…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the top of my head. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! You have a dragonfly on your head!”
I looked at her weakly. I was ready to go inside and never have to worry about dragonflies or fish again. She must be kidding, I thought. Without thinking, I asked her, “Why?”
“Because it is! Duh! Now catch it, quickly!”
I wasn’t about to smack myself upside the head with my net without good reason. All of this was just too much. “You know what? It’s going to stay right there. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because it will.”
She stared at me blankly and then looked back at the top of my head. “No it won’t. What are you talking about, anyway?” Just then, I felt a tiny weight lift from the top of my head. “There it goes! There it goes! Catch it, catch it, catch it!” She lashed out with her net, and brought it sweeping in a majestic arc to the ground. The dragonfly was in the net, trapped between the fabric of the net and the ground. “Yay! Look! I caught it!”
I wanted to laugh, but I just couldn’t muster the effort. I gave her what I suppose was a worn gaze. Enough of this nonsense, I decided. “How did you know which way it would fly so you could catch it?”
“What?” She asked as she watched it flapping around in the net. “I didn’t know where it would fly. I’m not a dragonfly.”
I wanted to say she wasn’t a fish, either, but I stopped myself. “Look,” I said, trying to speak reasonably, “I just want to know how you caught it.”
“That’s easy! You saw it. I swung my net, and now it’s right there, in my net, because it is.”
“Wait. Because what?”
“Because it is, silly!”
“I don’t get it.” I was on the verge of giving up.
“It’s quantum! Duh!”
I gave up. I plodded wearily back to the slope, to stare at the blue sky a bit more and think about something that made more sense. I never did catch a dragonfly for that project, but I convinced Jenny to give me one of her smaller ones since my head played such a crucial role in the capture of the big green one that I had chased around the lake. I ended up getting a very high grade on the project, though I can’t tell why. I decided not to think about it too hard; it was probably quantum.
In retrospect, I'm not thrilled with it, but it's probably worth posting anyway.
This concludes the (very)mini-series.