Beer and positrons don't mix! It's not a good idea to drink and re-create the birth of the universe. Big Bang Hangover From the Files of Fortean Slips by D. Trull Enigma Editor dtrull@parascope.com In the beginning there was nothing. The universe was without form, and void. There was a big crazy explosion. And then there was stuff. But there weren't any scientists around to see that it was good. So who are they to say for sure just how -- or if -- any of that happened? This predicament, of course, has begat all manner of problems for us humans. But some enterprising scientists have attempted to settle part of this mystery once and for all, by firsthand observation. They didn't invent a time machine, but they did the next best thing: they set out to recreate the Big Bang in miniature. In June, scientists at Geneva's CERN laboratory conducted what is described as the biggest experiment of all time. Using the largest atom-smasher in the world, measuring 17 miles around, they intended to slam some electrons into some positrons at about the speed of light. This collision wouldn't quite result in a Big Bang II that would wipe us out and start the universe over from scratch, but it would be enough to simulate some of the conditions from the birth of the cosmos. Physicists were salivating in anticipation of identifying "sparticals," which supersymmetry theory uses to account for missing mass in the universe, and other boring stuff like that. So with baited breath the CERN folks flipped the switch and waited for the Little Bang to unfold. And nothing happened. For five days the scientists were at a loss to understand why their atom doohickey wasn't whipping up their new universe in a can, when an unexpected discovery let there be light: two empty Heineken bottles were sealed inside a vacuum pipe. No one has any idea how the beer bottles got in there. Police fingerprinted the glass containers and began an investigation into what they believe was a deliberate prank. CERN spokespersons took the bizarre setback in stride, reportedly making humorous references to the Heineken slogan, "It Reaches Parts Other Beers Can't Reach." Tell you what, CERN: I'll stay away from the particle physics, and you guys leave the jokes to the professionals, okay? Now then... it seems to me that Geneva law enforcement officials face three main avenues of investigation in the strange case of the Big Bang Beer Bust. First, it could have been an inside job. Everybody knows those scientists can't hold their liquor. The night before their recreation of Creation, these boys are going to get rowdy. Hook up a keg to the particle accelerator, call up the Swedish grad student babes, pass around the test-tube tequila shooters... next thing you know, Dr. Verkerk wakes up behind the vacuum tubes face-down in his own vomit. Second, this could all be part of a conspiracy by the alcohol-industrial complex. If science starts solving stuff like how the Big Bang happened, the collective global I.Q. can only increase. And the smarter people get, the less beer, wine and spirits they will consume. The message rings loud and clear: "Keep 'em stupid, eggheads, or the next monkey wrench in your atom-smasher will be the head of Carl Sagan. Capice?" Or, finally, this may not be an act of sabotage at all. It is not inconceivable that CERN misinterpreted the experiment as a failure, when in fact our universe itself was spawned by two giant beer bottles. Indeed, this would hardly be the first time that a few emptied Heinekens precipitated a big bang. Although the subsequent creation generally requires nine months. (c) Copyright 1996 ParaScope, Inc.
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