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Spun-1540757
by spun
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A script idea. Because light is almost as cool as the dark.


 


In the beginning God said, “Let there be light.”


A few billion years later, scientists and philosophers replied, “What IS light?”


Aristotle said it was a wave.


Democritus said it was a particle.


Descartes said, “I think it is a wave, therefore it IS a wave.”


Newton replied, “Don’t be ridiculous! Light is clearly a particle because prisms. D’uh.”


And the debate about the nature of light continued thusly.


[cut to all the major players having a fist-fight]


By the end of the 19th century, the particle camp had pretty much been swept away by the wave crowd…


[Maxwell, Young, Huygens and Fresnel - hanging out in board shorts holding surfboards - kick sand in the faces of glum particle-proponents]


…when Einstein said,

“E= hf”


…which is shorthand for, “Hey guys, light can be BOTH a wave AND a particle simultaneously. You can’t put it in a box.”


Einstein won a Nobel Prize for those three letters (and an equals sign) and he also gave Schrödinger some strange ideas for experiments to perform on his cat.


[cut to Schrödinger’s petrified cat being placed into a box]


Everyone else lived happily ever after.


And that’s exactly how we came to understand what is now known as the wave-particle duality of light. Even if it still makes absolutely no sense.


Join us next week when we answer the age-old question, "Who would win if you put science and a unicorn named Bob in a room together?"


 


A bazillion thanks to humberfloob for making this shiny - he's responsible for all the good bits. He also (rightly) said that the last line needs to change (among others), and he has several much better suggestions. <3

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Int. London underground tube train carriage, the people on board silent as they get on with their lives. Their thoughts are heard as we go through the carriage one end to the other.


A well dressed, attractive young girl sits at one end of the carriage, scrolling through her phone, with her headphones in.


‘I hate my job, overworked and underpaid...Not paid in fact. Task for today...collect dry cleaning and double shot latte. How the hell am I paying rent this month? How am I going to eat? I HATE MY JOB!’


A middle-aged lady stands, looking flustered, her hair slightly unkempt, trying to balance a book between her fingers.


‘Did I remember to sign Gabrielle’s form? Uh no, baby vomit on my shoulder again...For God’s sake! I need to prove to them I deserve a promotion, not with baby puke on my shoulder! Is Benjamin’s school play tonight or tomorrow? He is playing the donkey after all...’


A well dressed blonde sitting down, taps at her phone.


‘He hasn’t called..It’s like he doesn’t care anymore, he spends way too much time with that Jennifer, I can’t leave him can I? What would I do about the kids? What would I do about the house? I better just stay quiet, hopefully he’ll learn to love me again...’


A teenage girl sits, squashed between two businessmen, reading a fashion magazine, her eyes catch the well dressed blonde’s shoes.


‘Some more elbow room wouldn’t go amiss! I like her shoes..I wonder if they would look good on me? She looks happy, I bet her life is perfect, perfect house, perfect husband, perfect family...’


A man sits, trying to fix his eyes on a the tube map, remembering directions.


‘Bank, Monument, Liverpool St. Bank, Monument, Liverpool St. Bank, Monument, Liverpool St. Bank, Monument, Liverpool St. Bank, Monument, Liverpool St. Bank, Monument, Liverpool St...’


A male tourist stands in the middle of the carriage and looks confused at the tube map.


‘Oh shit, I missed it. Damn it’s so complicated, why can’t these English have larger maps?’


A short anxious man stands in close proximity to other businessmen.


‘Breathe. Just BREATHE...Slowly. Why does my head always end up wedged in a sweaty armpit? If I don’t get a grip on that handrail...definitely going to fall over at the next stop...’


A redheaded lady admires the man opposite her.


‘I really like his hair...And his beard. Kind of like an artist, or maybe he’s...a teacher! We would have such beautiful children, his eyes are so deep and thoughtful, his arms so...big. I wonder if he has noticed me. Shit where’s my mirror!’


The attractive man with the beard seems paranoid about something.


‘I think they know...how would they? That one, the red head...she’s looking at me, she knows. She knows where I hid the body.’

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Design inspired by auntika tar's when she's alone.

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New blog post with some pictures I've taken in Berlin so far! http://ericacoburnphotography.blogspot.de/2014/07/berlin.html

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It's been a long walk from the old canal to reach the plateau. Ahead, the vast, flat plains stretch out towards the horizon, where mountain ranges rise up to the stars. The citadel's lights pulse a gentle blue-green colour. No security concerns.


The wind stirs the traveller's cloak but carries no dust from the plains. The vents are doing their job. A few years ago it would be impossible to cross to the citadel on foot. A few steps out from the foothills and you'd find yourself wading, knee-deep, then waist-deep, through drifts of soft soil, rock dust, and sand. You could never be sure whether your foot would find a safe landing spot or just plunge down leaving you stranded. Every few months the lower levels of the citadel had had to be cleared out by armies of workers. The vents were the biggest civil engineering project since colonisation. An underground system of pipes and tunnels, drawing the breezes and their dust down into the ground, keeping the plain clear. All of the animals that hid in the drifts had descended underground, too. There were rumours that some of the lizards had grown dramatically in size down there. The traveller has heard the rumours. As far as he's concerned it doesn't matter how big the lizards get, as long as they stay in their subterranean realm and don't venture up to the surface as he crosses.


A glowing blue light speeds towards him in the night air. An ID protocol. The tiny flying robot asks him a few questions and checks his identification before zooming off again back to the city. Its scans do not pick up the guns concealed under his coat, or the vials of pale liquid hidden in the soles of his boots. Knowing how ineffecient the protocols are, he expects to be challenged by the robots several more times before he reaches the citadel gate. None of them will find what he is carrying.


He takes a deep breath and begins the descent to the plain floor. The end of his journey is in sight.

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If interested, please follow me here Facebook.com/AnthonyChristopherArt


 


Also, there is a short documentary in the works...

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Thanks

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