And that's a big problem. For years, physicists have been
trying to combine the two theories into one. Does that make sense?"
"Sure,
it's like any country's political parties, right?" Maldonado
suggested. "Both sides are wrong, and they still never agree on
anything."
"Something
like that. Anyway, one of the most popular theories that attempts to
combine them is called string theory."
"I've
never heard of it. String?"
"Yeah.
String theory. Also called superstrings. It's an incredibly
complicated mathematical theory, but basically what it comes down to
is quite simple..." Elisa quickly cast her eyes around for an
object, and then settled on the paper napkin around her cup. While
she spoke, she folded it in half and then creased it into a sharp
edge with her long fingers. Maldonado watched, intrigued. "According
to string theory, the particles that make up the universe, you know,
electrons, protons ... all of those particles are not little balls,
like we learned to visualize in elementary school, but are actually
elongated, like strings..."
"Things
like strings...," Maldonado pondered aloud.
"Yeah.
Really fine strings, because the only dimension they possess is
longitude. But they have a special property." Elisa raised her
hands to Maldonado's eye level, holding the napkin taut so that he
was looking at the crease. "Tell me what you see."
"A
napkin."
"That's
the problem with you journalists. You worry too much about
appearance." Elisa smiled playfully. "Forget what you
already think it is. Just
tell me what you think you see."
Maldonado
squinted and stared at the sharp edge that Elisa held up before him.
"Um...
A line. A straight line."
"Good.
From your perspective, it could be a string, right? A thread. Well,
the theory states that the strings that make up matter only look like
strings from certain angles. But if we look at them from another
perspective..."—Elisa flipped the napkin up and held the
rectangular surface before him— "then they have other
dimensions, and if we could unroll them, or 'open' them..."—she
unfolded the napkin all the way now, so that it became a large
square—"then we could see even more dimensions."
"What
a trip." Maldonado looked impressed. Or else he was a good
faker. "So, have those dimensions been discovered?"
"Ha!
Not even close," Elisa replied, balling up the napkin and
stuffing it into her cup. "'Opening' a subatomic string requires
machines we don't have yet: incredibly powerful particle accelerators
... But that's where Blanes and his theory come in. He thinks there
are some strings that can be opened with low levels of energy. Time
strings. He's mathematically proven that time is made up of strings,
just like everything else. But they can be opened with accelerators
that already exist. It's just very difficult to carry out the
experiment."
"So
what you're talking about, in practical terms"— Maldonado
was scribbling furiously—"is time travel? Going back to
the past?"
"No.
The idea of traveling back through time is total science fiction.
Basic laws of physics make it impossible. There's no way to go back
to the past, sorry. Time can only travel forward, into the future.
But if Blanes's theory were correct, there would be another
possibility ... We could open time strands and see the
past."
"See
the past? You mean... Napoleon, Julius Caesar? Sorry, kiddo, but that sounds
like science fiction."
"You're
wrong. It's very possible." Elisa looked at him, amused. "Not
only is it possible, it's run of the mill. We see the past every
day."
"You
mean old movies, faded photographs, all that?"
"No.
We're seeing it right now." She laughed at his expression.
"Seriously. You want to bet?"
Maldonado
glanced around.
"Well,
OK, some of those professors have seen better days, I'll grant you
that." Elisa laughed and shook her head.
"You
being serious?"
"Completely."
She looked up, and Maldonado did the same. Night had fallen. A
blanket of shimmering stars shone brightly in the
trying to combine the two theories into one. Does that make sense?"
"Sure,
it's like any country's political parties, right?" Maldonado
suggested. "Both sides are wrong, and they still never agree on
anything."
"Something
like that. Anyway, one of the most popular theories that attempts to
combine them is called string theory."
"I've
never heard of it. String?"
"Yeah.
String theory. Also called superstrings. It's an incredibly
complicated mathematical theory, but basically what it comes down to
is quite simple..." Elisa quickly cast her eyes around for an
object, and then settled on the paper napkin around her cup. While
she spoke, she folded it in half and then creased it into a sharp
edge with her long fingers. Maldonado watched, intrigued. "According
to string theory, the particles that make up the universe, you know,
electrons, protons ... all of those particles are not little balls,
like we learned to visualize in elementary school, but are actually
elongated, like strings..."
"Things
like strings...," Maldonado pondered aloud.
"Yeah.
Really fine strings, because the only dimension they possess is
longitude. But they have a special property." Elisa raised her
hands to Maldonado's eye level, holding the napkin taut so that he
was looking at the crease. "Tell me what you see."
"A
napkin."
"That's
the problem with you journalists. You worry too much about
appearance." Elisa smiled playfully. "Forget what you
already think it is. Just
tell me what you think you see."
Maldonado
squinted and stared at the sharp edge that Elisa held up before him.
"Um...
A line. A straight line."
"Good.
From your perspective, it could be a string, right? A thread. Well,
the theory states that the strings that make up matter only look like
strings from certain angles. But if we look at them from another
perspective..."—Elisa flipped the napkin up and held the
rectangular surface before him— "then they have other
dimensions, and if we could unroll them, or 'open' them..."—she
unfolded the napkin all the way now, so that it became a large
square—"then we could see even more dimensions."
"What
a trip." Maldonado looked impressed. Or else he was a good
faker. "So, have those dimensions been discovered?"
"Ha!
Not even close," Elisa replied, balling up the napkin and
stuffing it into her cup. "'Opening' a subatomic string requires
machines we don't have yet: incredibly powerful particle accelerators
... But that's where Blanes and his theory come in. He thinks there
are some strings that can be opened with low levels of energy. Time
strings. He's mathematically proven that time is made up of strings,
just like everything else. But they can be opened with accelerators
that already exist. It's just very difficult to carry out the
experiment."
"So
what you're talking about, in practical terms"— Maldonado
was scribbling furiously—"is time travel? Going back to
the past?"
"No.
The idea of traveling back through time is total science fiction.
Basic laws of physics make it impossible. There's no way to go back
to the past, sorry. Time can only travel forward, into the future.
But if Blanes's theory were correct, there would be another
possibility ... We could open time strands and see the
past."
"See
the past? You mean... Napoleon, Julius Caesar? Sorry, kiddo, but that sounds
like science fiction."
"You're
wrong. It's very possible." Elisa looked at him, amused. "Not
only is it possible, it's run of the mill. We see the past every
day."
"You
mean old movies, faded photographs, all that?"
"No.
We're seeing it right now." She laughed at his expression.
"Seriously. You want to bet?"
Maldonado
glanced around.
"Well,
OK, some of those professors have seen better days, I'll grant you
that." Elisa laughed and shook her head.
"You
being serious?"
"Completely."
She looked up, and Maldonado did the same. Night had fallen. A
blanket of shimmering stars shone brightly in the
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