“Well, the way I see it,” said Brigid, copping a handful of pretzels, “quantum mechanics proves the necessary existence of God.”
“Eh?” said Greg. “How do you work that one out?”
“Well, if I understand it right, in quantum mechanics, nothing actually exists until it’s observed somehow, it only kinda-sorta-exists as a probability. But if that’s the case, what happened before people were around? What could have possibly caused the Big Bang if there wasn’t anybody there to observe it happening?”
“Uh, well…” said Greg.
“Thus, enter God, who observes the universe and thus brings it into being.”
“Or Brahma, who dreams it into existence,” said Greg.
“Something like that.”
Greg shook his head. “But God is omniscient, right? At least presumably. So that means He sees everything not just as it happens, but everything in the past and future, too. Thus, to God, the universe has already happened. All of the waveforms have collapsed.”
“Well, sure, for God,” said Brigid. “But not for us. Our bazillion-year-old universe may be incomprehensibly old to us, but it’s just a flash to an immortal, eternal God. Our only frame of reference is inside the waveform as it’s collapsing. We’re like mayflies born during a hurricane. We’re born, live, and die without ever knowing a sunny day.”
“Well that’s a depressing thought,” said Greg. “I thought you were all about the omnibenevolent Daddy-In-the-Sky.”
“I am,” said Brigid. “I’m just trying to find a model that reconciles my wishful thinking with the observed facts.”
“Heh,” said Greg. “Good luck with that.”
Treville, who’d been sitting on the sofa arm the whole time after a failed attempt to pick up a fellow partygoer, shook his head. “You guys talk about this stuff for fun. I’ll never understand you two.”
“Don’t feel bad,” said Brigid. “We don’t understand you, either.”