Say you put a cat in a box and rigged up
a contraption
with a Geiger counter holding "a tiny bit of radioactive substance,
so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the
atoms
decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens,
the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which
shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid."
Now remember, this is just an essay. No
actual cats
were harmed in the course of writing his essay. Or this homepage, for
that
matter.
Okay, say an hour has passed. Now
the real
problems begin. You still haven't opened the box - is the cat dead or
alive?
As Schrodinger put it: "It is typical of these cases that an
indeterminacy
originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into
macroscopic
indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct
observation."
Uh...alright, wait. Forget quantum
mechanics. Here's
a better example: while my family was visiting my sister back in
Vermont
several years ago, we were discussing how things had changed in our old
town. I
told her I remembered a particularly beautiful road running across
a mountain, a few nice little stores along the sides. She knew where
I meant,
but told me that we shouldn't go see it because it wasn't at all like
I remembered
it, and I was better off with my memory. You see, the place hasn't
changed
for me, because I haven't directly seen it. So, it exists in both a
changed
and an unchanged state, and it will linger there until and if I ever
personally
see it -- then and only then will it have actually changed.
(The
cat in the box is neither dead nor living until it is observed to be
either.)
Unfortunately, I didn't know about this
before I
visited Madrid, otherwise I wouldn't have gone.
I suspect that the guidebook
writer's biggest
fear is that by letting people know about a particulary interesting or
charming place, that place will be forever changed as people seek it
out.
Madrid is one such place. If you've seen pictures of Madrid's old
company
row-houses, like the one pictured above, don't fear - they're still
there.
But many of them have been turned into souvenier shops. Madrid has
become
Santa Fe South.
If you have no regard for quantum
physics (or cats)
and decide to visit Madrid yourself, first decide if you're going to
pronounce
the name with an accent on the first or the second syllable. Nobody is
quite sure which is the correct way, though there's no shortage of
opinions.
Second, skip the souvenier shops and art galleries and head
straight
for the Old Coal Mine Museum, which is well worth the modest entrance
fee.
The museum is a collection of old mining buildings
and a
locomotive left untouched on the hillside. It feels wonderful
to wander
around inside the structures, listen to the wind whistle through cracks
in the windows, and imagine what it must have been like back when the
lights
of Madrid's annual Christmas display were so inspiring, airlines would
reroute their planes past the hillside to allow passengers to view the
sight.
Madrid was a mining town from
the
start, and in 1920 was owned by
the
Albuquerque and Cerrillos Coal Company. The Madrid mines produced
both anthracite
and bituminous (hard and soft) coal, a unique combination. After World
War II, when the need for coal diminished, so did the town of
Madrid.
If I hadn't visited Madrid, it
would have continued
to exist for me in its previous incarnation, which I would have
preferred.
I have nothing against tourists. I am one. Still, I have to say
that
I think Madrid was better off when it was not so well known. But now, I
guess, the cat's out of the bag.
You can visit Madrid on the Web at http://www.virtualmadrid.com/index.html.