Unpredictability lies at the heart of quantum mechanics. It bothered Einstein, but it also bothers the Dalai Lama.
Our eyes meet as Justin tucks into his panini. He likes R&B and old cars, always brings a homemade lunch. His eyebrows perfectly complement his eyes. I wonder if he closes his eyes when kissing.
After lunch he'll return to the "clean" lab, where we aren't allowed, our minds mess with their measurements. Justin has a PhD from Princeton, yet somehow isn't conscious enough to collapse a wavefunction. Photons remain indifferent to his gaze. Fascinating results that can never be published. It’s a lot to think about, so mostly I don't.
(I'm sure he closes them, he's not a monster.)