Miss Buddha (42 page)

Yes, much should have been made about these
experiments, but other matters occupied the world, and apart from
brief mentions on pages three and four, or in the science section
of the news broadcast, if mentioned there at all, the spectacular
outcome of Doctor Lawson’s proof was for all intents and purposes
ignored by one and all outside of the scientific community—which
did, by and large, accept the findings.

What Does Non-Local Consist Of?

Once non-local communication had been
establish as reality, many particle physicists (and an almost equal
number of philosophers), naturally raised the question: How is this
even possible? How can communication not travel? How can it be
instant?

In fact, ever since his successful 1999
experiment Doctor Lawson has worked tirelessly to answer that
question. In 2024 I was invited to study with him, and learn from
him, and over the next few years I grew increasingly familiar with
the constituent and underlying principles of what he was trying to
show.

And the underlying principle is that
subatomic particles react to life. Once life looks, the subatomic
particle will present itself, either in terms of location or in
terms of speed (though never both at the same time, life must
choose what it wants to see).

In fact, prior to our EPROM experiment we
had no way of establishing whether particles even existed when not
observed. For to ascertain this one way or another one would have
to observe, and—well, there went the premise of the experiment.

So how do you observe life when it’s not
observed?

It is like looking for fairies.

Fairies—by fable and tradition—will never
show themselves to anyone looking for them. But in order to catch a
glimpse of them, you have to be on the lookout for them, or you’ll
miss them, guaranteed. So, how do you look for them without looking
for them? Without announcing your intentions? You don’t. That’s the
bottom line, and is also why people as a rule don’t see
fairies.

Those who do see fairies are apparently very
lucky—or quite magical.

One approach we took was to attempt to “fake
out” nature by masking the fact that we were indeed looking.

We’re Not Looking

This was attempted by repeating the
Colombia-Borneo experiment, but instead of monitoring the particles
directly, we sent the lasers’ measurement data via so many relays
(in this case via sixteen communications satellites) in the hope
that nature would lose track and not realize that at the very end
of the string of relays there would be a human eye.

No such luck. Nature is not easily
fooled.

Agreements

Considering this failure to fake nature out,
one night I remembered—and how come I remembered is indeed part of
this story, but more of that later—I remembered that nature sprung
into being on the back of a string of agreements, agreed among
itself by life to constitute the basic laws of physics, at least of
classical physics—to become the laws of the macro world.

There were agreements made in the micro
world as well, but these are by no means as firm, and (as
discovered by Doctor Lawson and others) depend in large measure
upon immediate interaction with life.

One level of agreement, however, allowed
nature to revise history electrically. This was demonstrated by
recording the state of a photon from point of ejection to point of
later observation, only to find that the moment it was observed,
the entire trajectory showed a certain polarity from the outset,
even though we know for a fact that this polarity was indeed
undecided for a time—up to the point of observation.

Another agreement, the one I remembered that
night, and the one that allowed the EPROM experiment to succeed, in
essence established the laws that prohibited nature from revising
history when recorded on what we call EPROMs.

RAM vs. EPROM

Comparing RAM with EPROM we find that
volatile RAM can be revised with the manipulation of electricity,
and this nature knows how to do. To revise a non-volatile EPROM,
however, requires a generous helping of ultra-violet light which,
if not supplied, cannot be manufactured by nature on the fly, and
so, any data recorded up the point of observation cannot be altered
once observation has taken place and nature has made up its mind
what properties to exhibit.

The EPROM Experiment

Our EPROM experiment was in fact a modified
version of the Colombia-Borneo Experiment with the flight path of
one of the photons recorded both on volatile RAM and on
non-volatile EPROM.

Once observed, the RAM (by nature’s version
of revisionist history) recorded that both the particle itself and
the observed polarity had existed since the firing of the
particle.

The EPROM, on the other hand, traced the
initial four seconds of the particle’s trajectory (which Doctor
Lawson and I observed on the RAM-fed screen) but then showed
nothing from seconds five through eight when we both looked away
and at the ceiling.

The EPROM-fed screen then took up the
particle trace again from seconds nine (when we both returned to
observing its progress on the RAM-fed monitor) through twelve and
arrival at its detector beam.

The key here is that at five seconds through
second eight, the EPROM recorded nothing at all. There was no
particle there to record.

This bears repeating.
Between seconds five and eight, nothing was recorded in the EPROM
(and no trace shown on its monitor) because:
there was no particle there
. Not a
trace.

And again:
There was no particle there
.

Life, by looking, coaxed this particle into
existence.

Experiment Validated

This experiment is not a one-off fluke. Not
only did Doctor Lawson and I run this experiment a total of twelve
times—four on the initial day, and eight more times a few days
later—but four international teams have replicated the experiment
and attested to its veracity.

These four teams were from UCLA in Los
Angeles, MIT in Massachusetts; QUT (Queensland University of
Technology) in Brisbane, Australia; and KTH (Royal Institute of
Technology) in Stockholm, Sweden.

All four ran a series of twelve tests, and
each single test replicated ours and confirmed our findings.

The fact that life “exists” (using this word
as transitive verb for a change) these particles into being by
observing them is no longer theory, it is a proven fact.

When life looked away, there was nothing
there. The moment life looked back, the nothing instantly became a
something.

Fact.

Micro vs Macro World

We have proven that quantum (micro)
particles, for all intents and purposes vanish when not observed
and appear when observed. That said, I am pretty certain that the
(macro) keyboard I currently use to type this will not vanish if I
look away.

Why not?

The laws governing micro and macro worlds
are different. However, this does not repudiate the fact that the
macro world consists of micro world congregations.

Who Am I?

I mentioned above that I remembered the
sequence of agreements that allowed the EPROM to record the truth
of the particle vs. life in such a way that nature could not revise
its history. How could I remember such things?

As I said at the beginning of this paper,
there is nothing but life. We are all nothing but life.

Those who have woken up to this fact are
called Buddhas.

Those who have notions of this fact are
called artists.

Those who see none of these facts are the
public at large.

I am awake.

::
91 :: (Los Angeles)

Federico Alvarez was in it for the money.
That, and the fame. And he did not hide that light under as much as
a hint of a bushel. Rather, he was proud of it, and enjoyed
enlightening all and sundry about how (well) and why he did what he
did.

He was KCAA’s investigative reporter, with a
lot of scalps to his credit, as he liked to put it. He also liked
to enlighten anyone within earshot about his ratings—unmatched,
he’d inform them. Unmatched. It’s a big word that, meaning a lot of
money, both for his station and for his wallet.

He was also extremely well connected.

“Connected,” in this business is normally
reflected in “reciprocal favors,” and is primarily a matter of the
accounting of these favors—who’s in debt, who’s accumulated
credit.

Federico, over the years, had accumulated
sizeable credit.

That is why, by mid-afternoon on the fourth
of May—after calling in some major favors owed him—he had managed
to secure an exclusive interview with the wunderkind Ruth Marten,
the author if this extraordinary paper, that now made the rounds,
both in the papers and on the radio and television news.

The interview was set for Saturday the
eighth of May, which—in his own estimation—should give him just
about enough time to dig around a little and expose her as the
fraud she was.

:

Federico was in his first real fight at age
six. The wealthy Buenos Aires neighborhood where he grew up was
not, like some others in that city, known for violence, but then
again, fights among children—though they can be as life-threatening
(though perhaps not literally) as any—don’t really count.

To this day he remembers the fight, and the
reason for it. His mother, an American born in New York who during
her Buenos Aires residency had met and married his father, also a
doctor (though a surgeon, not internal medicine, like his mother),
had received a care package from New York, which included the
latest fashion for children, apparently: A checkered cap, which she
proudly bestowed upon him.

Truth be told, he liked it, even if it made
him look a little out of place—no one in Buenos Aires, if not in
the entire country, wore a cap like this. So, he donned it, and
went out to share the wealth.

Out of place, indeed. Within minutes it
seemed, he had become the laughing stock of his and many
neighboring blocks in his part of town. It was as if kids migrated
in his direction just to scorn.

Now, Federico Alvarez loved and adored his
mother, so when the taunts (which up to this point he took in
stride) expanded in scope to include his mother and the fact that
she was an ugly (not true) gringo bitch, he had to defend her.

Carlos, the fat kid who seemed to head up
this delegation of taunt, said it again, “Look at what the ugly
gringo bitch has bought him, the little doll.”

Once Federico had decided to draw blood in
her defense, he found an odd stillness within, a sort of certainty
that he could and would win—a feeling that was to stay with him all
his life. He took four quick steps into the fat bully and nearly
knocked him over.

“Say that again,” he said. “And I’ll kill
you.”

The bully, now unable to back down even if
he wanted to (and he did, actually) obliged, “The ugly gringo bitch
has bought the little doll a doll’s hat.”

Children’s bones are softer than those of
the grown, which is the only reason Federico did not break the
bully’s nose—soft knuckles hitting soft nose, which rather than
breaking simply sprung a terrible leak and bled not only all over
the bully but all over Federico as well, who now wrestled him to
the ground where he proceeded to pummel his puffy face with a
string of soft-knuckled blows, which nonetheless managed to shut
bully eyes for the next few days.

It can only be speculated what might have
happened had not Mr. and Mrs. Moreno walked by just then, and
between them, after much tearing and pulling of boys’ limbs and
clothing, finally succeed in tearing Federico off the bully, now
openly crying for his mother.

The following day, Federico wore his New
York cap, boldly, proudly, and not a word was said about it—in
fact, two days later someone else showed up with a similar cap, and
a day after that three more caps appeared. The new trend in
American children’s fashion was taking root in Buenos Aires
courtesy of Federico Alvarez.

His uncle, Lautaro Alvarez,
a highly ranked Argentine amateur boxer in his day and who still
put in a fight or two “just to keep in shape, and to teach the
young ones a lesson or two,” got wind of Federico’s recent
encounter and decided to tutor him a little, something he figured
would always come in handy. Federico’s mom objected, but his dad,
Lautaro’s younger brother, did not, and after some discussions
where Federico himself was given the final say, off to the gym they
went; twice a week for the next many months and then weekly until
Federico moved to New York City with his parents a few days after
his eighth birthday, now showing great—in fact,
more
than great, as Lautaro put
it—promise as a boxer.

“Over my dead body,” said his mom.

“You’re welcome,” said Lautaro.

Even though his mother had always spoken
English to him as he grew up (“He has to know both,” she insisted
and his father agreed) his accent clearly marked him as an outsider
in New York, and to make a long story short, let’s say that
Lautaro’s coaching was to come in very handy over the next few
years.

He called them “scraps” or “nothings” when
his mother asked—applying Band-Aids here and there and, in her
opinion, far too often; he called them “confrontations” when his
father asked. Where he had picked up that word he wasn’t quite
sure.

Himself, he thought of them as “teaching
lessons” and what he would call his local encounters among his
peers was “kicking ass.”

But whatever the label, he did fight a lot,
and seldom his own fights; more often than not he was pressed into
service by his neighborhood, to defend their honor, to right some
wrong, to stand up for his part of town. Hero-stuff.