 | Science, such pure abstraction, why do people insist it is a mathematical formula for truth? How could I have been so sure when itÕs all uncertain. Doubt is at the core - ever smaller particles, energy without mass, lie at the heart of the atom - and the Scientific Model, the refinement of uncertainty, turns on itself. Nothing is at the bottom of everything. What quantum dizziness made us, giddy children we became, overlook our lack of control; despite all our mastery. So much for BohrÕs openness; buried in secrecy, our discoveries are enclosed in lead. His claim the bomb contains its own solution - hoping fear will guide us as a stop - falls down. Our confined circle is held within another, an embracing metal ring, that moves us as it wills. Bernard Sullivan © 1995 |