# Why is there Nothing rather than Something?

"Close the darn window! You know it gives me the creeps," Doctor Myrkina hissed, glaring angrily at the daylight streaming in through the open curtains.

"Sunlight is good for you," Captain Tralith insisted, pulling the curtains open wider.  She smiled in a vaguely threatening way as she did so, showing off far too many teeth.  "I never understood what bothered you about it anyway."

"Come over here," the doctor waved a finger at at her, blocking the sunlight with his other hand as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

"I've told you before not to keep ants on this ship," Captain Tralith said, looking where he was pointing.  "They're going to get out of that ant-farm of yours sooner or later.  And then we'll have a mess on our hands."

"I know, I know--shush," Doctor Myrkina said.  "Does anything strike you as unnatural about this ant-farm?"

"It strikes me as unnatural how you keep bringing bugs in here," the captain said.  "I like to run a clean ship, you know."

"Think from an ants' perspective, not ours," Doctor Myrkina pressed.  "You don't think there's anything that would bother them about their current situation?"

"I suppose they wouldn't like us staring at them through the glass like this.  It's rather an invasion of their privacy.  Is that why you don't like the window open?  You think somebody's watching? I assure you, this planet is perfectly uninhabited.  Much like *every other* planet humans have ever visited, besides Earth.  But, shouldn't you be telling me that?"

"*That* does bother me," Doctor Myrkina agreed.  "Let me ask this another way.  How many dimensions does an ant colony have?"

"Oh! I know this one!" Captain Tralith beamed.  "It's a fractal! So, the answer is... I don't know exactly.  But less than three and more than one, I suppose."

"One, because the tunnels in the anthill are one-dimensional and three because the anthill exists in a subspace of our own three-dimensional space, correct?"

"Okay, but how does that answer your question about unnaturalness?" Captain Tralith asked, confused.

"How many dimensions does *this* anthill exist in? Less than *how many* exactly?"

"Less than two, I suppose," the captain said.  "Since it's squeezed between those two pieces of glass.  I still don't like you bringing ants on here.  Look at those ones in the corner.  I think they're trying to get out where you have the lid attached a bit loosely."

Doctor Myrkina dragged himself towards the window.  The pain was visible on his face as he did so.  "Now, look out that window, what do you see?"

"A crappy ice planet that will give us enough hydrogen to refuel our ship.  But nothing worthwhile.  A waste of time and money."

"And how many dimensions does *it* have?" Doctor Myrkina asked.

"Three," the captain answered.  "Same as anywhere else in the universe."  She hesitated.  "No, wait, you want me to say *two*, don't you?"

Now it was the doctor's turn to smile.  "That's right!  You're starting to get it, aren't you?"

"But that's hardly a reason to complain," the captain said.  "We are on a spaceship, after all.  We can fly in any direction we want and find as many stars or galaxies or planets as we like.  Being two-dimensional is strictly a local phenomena."

"Indeed," Doctor Myrkina said.  "Just like those ants you hate so much, we've started to claw our way out of the cage.  And what have we found?  Nothing!  Space is ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent nothing!  Thirteen nines, if we're being precise."

"But why should that bother you?" the captain asked.  "After all, the atoms in your body are mostly empty space too.  Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't," Doctor Myrkina shrugged. "But you've said the universe is three-dimensional.  Technically speaking, that isn't quite correct, is it?"

"Einstein would say time is a dimension too, so that's four.  And I suppose string theorists have been telling us for ages that there are actually eleven dimensions.  Is that what's bothering you?  You think a bunch of eleven-dimensional aliens have got us squeezed between two three-dimensional sheets of glass?"

"Precisely," Doctor Myrkina said, pulling the curtains shut dramatically.  "Now, is there a reason you've come down here to pick on me and my ants?"

"I don't see how closing the window is going to help," Captain Tralith said.

"Out of sight, out of mind," the doctor shrugged.

"Suit yourself," the captain said.  "Oh yes, I remember now.  I did have a reason for coming down here.  Have you finished surveying for biologicals?  The mining team is in a hurry to start collecting ice so we can get off this rock."

"I haven't finished," Doctor Myrkina said.  "But I can tell you the answer already.  There's nothing.  There never is anything."

"Now that does bother me," Captain Tralith said.  "If we were to find some biologicals, we'd be rich.  The bounty for the first ship to find biological life is up to well over a trillion credits these days.  Quite frankly that, and it being required by law, is the only reason we keep you on board here."

"Glad to know I'm always welcome," Doctor Myrkina said.  "I'll have the report on your desk as soon as possible."

"Thanks!" the captain said, heading for the door.  As she did so, she made a lunge for the window curtains.  But Doctor Myrkina blocked her.

"It really doesn't bother you?" Doctor Myrkina muttered.

"The fact that some physicist claims there might be dimensions that I can't see?  No."

"And the ones you can see?" the doctor asked.

"They all seem fine to me."

"Even the *fourth* one?"

"If I had a time-ship instead of a space ship, I suppose I would like that," Captain Tralith admitted.  "I suppose we could just skip ahead a couple billion years until life evolves on this wretched planet and claim that trillion dollar bounty."

"You know how old our universe is, right?"

"Fourteen billion years, give or take a billion," Captain Tralith said.

"And how old it *will* be?" the doctor asked.

"A hundred trillion years until the last star burns out.  Even longer until the last black hole evaporates.  Forever, I guess, depending on whether or not there's a big crunch."

"And that doesn't surprise you?  To find yourself in a nearly uninhabited universe at the comparative beginning of time?" Doctor Myrkina asked.

"The Fermi Paradox is just that, a paradox.  I don't lose any sleep at night over it."

"I do," Doctor Myrkina said.  "And I've been thinking about a game recently."

"What sort of game?"

"On the first turn, each player starts with one piece," Doctor Myrkina explained.  "On each subsequent turn, each piece spawns two additional pieces."

"Doesn't sound very fun to play," Captain Tralith said.  "You'd run out of pieces pretty quickly.  And even if you didn't, your turns would take practically forever."

"Be that as it may," Doctor Myrkina said.  "If you did play such a game, how old would the average piece be?"

"Well, two-thirds of the pieces would have been created on the previous turn, so the median age would be one turn old."

"Pretty young, huh?"

"If you insist," Captain Tralith agreed.  "Anyway, I've got to go tell the mining crew to hold off till we get that biological report.  So if you're not sleeping anyway, I would appreciate it if you could get it done as soon as possible."

"Soon is precisely the correct word," Doctor Myrkina agreed.  "Everything is so very soon."

"Could have been sooner, if you have time for all this pointless speculation," Captain Tralith said.  And with that she walked out of the room.

"Just us now," Doctor Myrkina said in a whisper, looking at the ants. "Isn't it?"