"Schrödinger's Fault" by Eréndira Corona

It is Schrödinger's fault. Yes, his fault. From him, who insisted on imagining a cat inside.

I'm thinking about, as I swing the pencil hesitantly on the paper and watch the cat going around the cardboard cube with looseness and jumping into it. The movement is executed, in the way a cat is always used to, in an agile and elegant way.

That imaginary experiment must have messed up its imaginary collective memory and have left a mark on the felines' subconscious; so now, whenever they can, they proclaim the memory of their ancestor inside the box. I watch it closely. Yes, to my cat. I watch him inside the receptacle as frozen in time … as keeping a minute of silence to apologize. Yes, to apologize. Because in a few moments, he will jump out of the box again, and then he will have sealed the fate of the imaginary moggy of the experiment, forever.

Ramses decides which side the coin falls on, as he propels himself with the spring of his hind legs and appears almost instantly on the opposite side. It seems to have been enough sentimentality. He wags his tail slowly and turns gallantly around the long hallway. Parading through it, until reaching his favorite place, a luminous rectangle on the tile floor, warmed by the afternoon sun. Where now it perches spreading his front legs, adopting a position that resembles a miniature sphinx. 

How can infinite grace fit in such a tiny body?   I wonder while he looks at me condescendingly for not knowing the answer. Not even three seconds have passed, and he ignores me again, turning the attention to another point in space. Or only God knows … maybe even in time.

He stares at a place, apparently close to where I am. And however, totally foreign to me. The amber constellations that make up the particular universe, expanding within the pair of cat eyes, trace a journey whose destination has always been and will remain a mystery.

Suddenly, I venture to try to elucidate some reasons for what they see so attentively. One of my theories says that what they see is a closed path to the sight of men; the place where they jealously guard the secrets of their grace and the mystery of their essence. Another, that during those moments, they act as the observers destined to maintain our experimental existence, of this world as it is, and therefore they know they are superior to us. Another, that this Ramses, my Ramses (thus expressed by mere affection, since cats belong only to themselves) enters a state of temporary petrification due to the rapid stampede - chasing some mouse - that another Ramses, which I do not recognize it as mine, has undertaken. And, so I could continue raving … until I get tired and opt for the most boring explanation of all of them. This is the one that states, that perhaps, is simply a bug on the wall that my tired sight cannot distinguish. I don't know, I think it might be better if i never get to know.

In any case, I still believe it's Schrödinger's fault, (I insist) while I indecisively erase the title of a story, which I finally decide not to write.

(c) Eréndira Corona

Editorial Review: It would seem that with every scientific or technological paradigm shift, the reality we once knew (and found comfort in) changes yet again. Here the definiteness of ontological being gives way to impermanence and obscurity. Yet, despite it, all the fault lines have yet to completely give way to nothingness. In this essay, Eréndira Corona throws the reader into a magic box of the epistemological and existential angst of the feline, while simultaneously making us wonder to our nature, and the world both in and outside those boxes of life that entangle us; whether we are aware of them or not. And like the cat, we desire to be observed, understood, and to find our purpose in the superposition of form, time, and love. (Bradley)

Eréndira Corona calls herself an engineer who likes to appreciate reality from its different perspectives like in a kaleidoscope and has found in poetry and stories the perfect tool to do it.