To celebrate, I had a couple of drinks later in Edin’s (my antibiotics have finished) but these left me feeling a little queer and I wasn’t sure that my head was going to cope. I began complaining of a strange jarring of the nerves and a slight fragmentation of my vision – it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, but it felt unnatural. So I went home at around midnight, and left the boozers to it. This morning my head feels as if it’s been squeezed in a vice – quite disproportionate to the amount of alcohol I had last night. Clearly, I abandoned my temperate state too early. I don’t think I’ll bother again – I’ve been having great fun without alcohol for a while and I think that’s how I’ll keep it from now on.
However, it was suggested that my feeling of ill-ease was caused not by the residue of the drug mixing with the alcohol, but by the 'machine'. The machine in question is, of course, the LHC that was finally switched on yesterday. Those millions of protons hurtling around their own private racetrack at 99.99% of the speed of light are – it was being claimed - patently having an effect on us all. Somehow I doubt it, although I am still intrigued about what will actually happen when the collisions begin on October 21st. I’m excited about what German chemist Professor Otto Rossler says – he thinks that the black holes created by the LHC will grow uncontrollably and "eat the planet from the inside". Atrophy isn’t the word!
Far from it leading to the end of the world, the scientists in support of this experiment claim it will result in the identification of what they call “Super-symmetric particles” (or ‘sparticles’ as only these wacky boffins could name them). These particles, apparently like tiny pieces of string that measure one millionth of a billionth of a billionth of a billionth of a centimetre long, are thought to be the basic structure (and therefore the origin) of the universe itself. Hmm, does this mean that if I took a really, really sharp pair of tiny scissors to the ball of string sitting in my kitchen drawer, I could become God? Maybe. I’ll let you know tomorrow, my earthlings.
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