Last night, fearing another Existential Crisis might be on the way, I asked Wilson how he is getting on with the What Is Reality? New Scientist special edition. He replied that it was much more complicated than he'd expected.
Over a mug of hot chocolate he explained that there were many contradictory theories: for example the Standard Model, which is all about Quarks and Leptons, Charm and Strangeness and Muon Nutrinos, but which explains… only about… four percent of the... universe…
While he was speaking, I noticed his chin sink slowly down onto his chest, his eyes close and a gentle snore emerge.
I guess Reality is a complex and tiring concept, and it's just worn him out for today. I took the mug from his paw and carried him off to the tumble dryer, where I put him to bed.
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