Chapter 1: Dawn of the Missing Hobnobs
A Theory of Gossiping Particles
Professor Vic Titious burst into the weekly ideas meeting thirteen minutes late. An entrance noted in the official minutes as ‘punctual, relative to last week. He was carrying thirteen fresh rejections. The latest, from the Journal of Speculative Scientific Endeavour, had arrived with phrases like ‘methodological concerns’ and the particularly cutting ‘perhaps consider more conventional research avenues in future’ still ringing in his ears like a poorly tuned bell.
‘I’ve had a breakthrough!’
Vic announced to the assembled team. ‘Quantum entanglement isn’t what we think it is. The particles are gossiping!’
Una Likely, Chief Probability Analyst’s calculations already showed…
…the probability of Vic’s theory being correct was marginally higher than the building spontaneously turning into raspberry jam
Polly reached for graph paper, already resigned.
‘Another one?’ Here we go.
‘You’re suggesting quantum entanglement is actually subatomic social networking?’
Asked Connie Jecture, Senior Theoretical Synthesiser.
‘Precisely!’ Vic beamed, accidentally resting his teacup on a pile of documents marked ‘URGENT – REVIEW BEFORE MARCH 2019’.
‘They’re maintaining their correspondence, sharing the latest news, catching up on gossip, and talking about us, of course!’
‘That’s why measurement affects them—they know when they’re being observed and quickly change the subject.’
As the team attempted to dismantle the biological and energetic impossibilities of telepathic atoms, Vic reached for the communal biscuit tin.
He paused, genuine bewilderment crossing his face.
‘Where have all the chocolate Hobnobs gone?’
As Vic reluctantly settled for a plain digestive, the lab’s dutiful radiation spectrometer emitted a sharp, insistent beep.
A clean, unmistakable leap on the display
He paused, genuine bewilderment crossing his face.
‘Where have all the chocolate Hobnobs gone?’
As Vic reluctantly settled for a plain digestive…
…the lab’s dutiful radiation spectrometer emitted a sharp, insistent beep.
Una’s head snapped up.
The spectrometer only ever seemed to activate during tea breaks.
It was the third time that week biscuits had vanished without a crumb of evidence.