My Quantum Entanglement with a Schrodinger Cat
by M. J. Pettit
The all too familiar tap tap tap.
"In some parallel worlds," my cat says, "the bowl already contains the kibble."
"You know that isn't how the universe works on the macroscopic scale."
"Maybe it should."
"Stop it. I am not getting you food."
"But you could."
I abhor the sin of free feeding. "It isn't dinner time yet."
"But it could be dinner time."
"No, it can't. It is only four o'clock."
She gives me that impatient look. She is going to start lecturing about indeterminacy again.
I don't know why I engage her. It only leads to stalemates. She claims to have earned a doctorate in theoretical physics.
She nips at an exposed ankle. It doesn't hurt but she makes her displeasure felt.
The superposition dissolves in her favor. It always does. I am cursed with free will. All the possible worlds collapse into this one as I open a can of wet food.