Schrödinger's Assistant

What would you do?

It was only my second day at the position that the infamous incident took place. I was working as a lab assistant to Dr Schrödinger - though he always insisted I call him Erwin. It’s no longer very well known to the public, but Dr Schrödinger was always a very humble and down-to-earth kind of person, always respecting and cherishing not just his intellectual peers, but equally his students and assistants, and especially his cat, Ruth.

In the short time that I was lucky enough to be his apprentice, he spent almost all his hours outside the lecture theatre caring for this cat. He loved nothing more than doting on her, and in fact quite a lot of my job came down to also helping look after her. Thus on the second day - that fateful day - it was my job to tend to Ruth and keep her happy and fed behind the scenes, while Dr Schrödinger would give a presentation to students (and some highly enthusiastic faculty members) at Princeton University.

Peeking out from behind the side door, I remembered thinking that the students would think he’s absolutely crazy for the stunt he was about to pull, but equally I think I was in awe of him for coming up with a plan as brilliant as this.

“And without further ado, I will demonstrate this notion with a practical analogy.” he said, before beckoning me forward. I was initially nervous, but quickly realised more eyes were on the cat in my arms than me. I held her out to the Professor, who scooped her up lovingly as I had already seen him do hundreds of times.

“Now, here’s the idea. We put my darling Ruth here in this special box of ours. As soon as we close the box, this dispenser of poison gas will either release the cyanide gas - or not - all depending on the radioactive state of a small sample of Caesium. In other words, a completely random chance from our point of view. Truth be told, we will have no certainty about what has happened until and unless we open the box.”

With this, and a devilish grin on his face, he enacted the plan and pretended to drop the cat you have no doubt already heard of into the box you no doubt already know about. Or at least,

so

he

thought

See, the plan was supposed to be to actually drop the cat into a secret compartment, not visible at all to the audience, or even to himself from that angle. Tragically, from my unique perspective I could indeed see, almost in slow motion, the Professor's tragic error, and yet my cries of warning were drowned out by the crowd of students who were equally as terrified as I was.

In the very next instant, the box was closed and Ruth's fate was sealed.

With nothing left I could do, I stood there in dumbfounded silence, as the Professor droned on with his presentation, blissfully ignorant and happily unaware anything was wrong.

After the lecture, the audience left, understandably horrified by the whole ordeal. Of course, it remained for me to enlighten the Professor about what happened. The real paradox of Dr Schrödinger and his cat was that after the demonstration, the room was occupied by someone certain the cat survived and someone equally certain the cat had died.

Soon I realised that this was a very pessimistic view - even though he had made a mistake, there was still a fifty percent chance the cat survived. With only one way to find out, I quickly enlightened the Professor to his error, and followed with “but we shouldn't start worrying yet, we can open the box to find out-"

“No.” Barely a whisper but it felt like a roar. "What- what do you mean?”

The Professor looked me in the eye, and I saw an indescribable pain. “If Ruth is indeed dead, and no less by my hand, I will never be able to live with myself. I cannot find out, for finding out the wrong thing would kill me.”

Once more I was relegated to silence. As the only person who noticed the mistake, I felt a need to rectify the situation, though the irrational emotions of one of the greatest minds of history was not something I had really accounted for. I had to be smart about this.

“How about I open the box, and if the cat-"

“Ruth"

-"uh, yes of course. If Ruth has… died, I won't say anything at all?”

The Professor pondered my proposal for half a second, before shaking his head. “With only two outcomes, silence is the same as crying bloody murder. I would know what happened.”

I hadn't thought of that. Not very smart of me at all.

Suddenly, the life returned to Dr Schrödinger's eyes again. “I have an idea. Open the box, and say nothing if you witness a death. If she lives, flip a coin. Heads, return her to me, and tails say nothing. Give Ruth away, but tell me nothing of it.”

“What does that accomplish?”

“Well in the lucky case, I will know that she is fine, and I may care for her once more. If you say nothing, I will not know if it was indeed my error that killed her or if she is living safe and happy elsewhere.”

With this reasoning, I felt happy that a solution was achieved, even if my guilt around the whole thing lingered. The Professor quickly left, and told me through the door to find him tomorrow with the results.

With shaking hands, I slowly opened the box, and with a cry of happiness I find Ruth, safe and happy, though clearly a little hungry. With waves of relief washing over me, I almost forget the plan entirely and run to deliver the famous cat to her owner. Just as I leave, I spy the coin the Professor left out for me, and remember what I was supposed to do.

Well surely it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I hoped for heads so that the situation really could be fully fixed, and then

Tails.

---

The following actions of the assistant and the motivations behind them are left as an exercise for the reader.