The Paradox in the Pajamas
Disclaimer: BONES does not belong to me. Nor do I own grey cat pajamas (I do have mad cow pajamas though - *stop laughing*).
A/N: This is a short birthday offering for GreysIsTheCatsPajamas, one of the most prolific fanfic writers on the planet. Happy Birthday!
Awoken by the incessant pounding on the front door of her apartment, Temperance Brennan cracked open an eye and glanced at the glowing numerals on her bedside table.
4:47
Less than three hours of sleep. 'Spectacular', she mused to herself. She gave an unladylike grunt of frustration, that nobody would ever dream of crediting to the Best-Selling author and renowned Forensic Anthropologist. Another volley of knocking compelled her to roll over and drag her exhausted body out of bed. Stomping her way toward the front door, she raked her hair back from her face and rubbed at her left wrist, which was slightly numb from being slept upon.
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Flicking the deadlock clear with one hand, and turning the door handle with the other, she snatched the apartment door open; turning immediately to head toward her kitchen, without even acknowledging the man standing on the threshold.
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"Geez, Bones! I could have been anyone at your door. You didn't even check to see if it was me!" ranted Booth, as he entered her apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.
Brennan gave a derisive snort. "I don't know of anyone else who frequents my apartment at this hour, Booth." She paused to deliver him a look over her shoulder that could arguably remove flesh from bones. "Well, seeing as Hannah is not with you, I take it we have a case?"
Booth ignored the grumpy snipe by his partner. "Yup! Body washed up on the banks of the Potomac."
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She was fixated on the task that was the most important thing in the world to her at that moment. Bending down to get a packet of ground coffee beans from her freezer compartment, she began mumbling curses under her breath, as she moved packets of frozen goods around that appeared to be conspiring against her mission to obtain a decent cup of coffee.
"No time to make coffee, Bones!" announced Booth. "Besides, when you weren't answering your phone, I got you coffee to go on my way over."
The rustling activity in the freezer compartment ceased, and the door slammed shut. "Oh, why didn't you say so!"
Brennan took the five steps over to the counter where he stood, and wrapped both of her hands around the jumbo cup, covering the hand that was holding it.
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"I love you!" breathed Brennan in relief, inhaling the rich aroma.
"Wait, what?" he asked, trying to extricate his hand from under hers as she tilted the cup toward her lips to take a sip.
"Um, I mean thank you for the coffee...it's coffee love," she explained, taking possession of the cup.
"Coffee love?"
"Yes. You bring me coffee, I love you. It's hyperbole, Booth, you should try it some time. It's like sarcasm, but more creative."
"Right..." said Booth. "So how about you get ready, and you can drink it on the way,...or not...," he corrected himself in response to the withering expression on her face.
"I intend to consume this 20 ounce cup of coffee before I do anything else, which includes changing out of my pajamas," she announced, assuming a stubborn pose and taking a defiant sip of coffee.
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He gave a melodramatic sigh at her attitude and decided to roll with it. He held up his own coffee cup in salute. "Bottoms up, Bones!"
Taking a gulp of his own coffee he noticed what she was wearing. "Nice pajamas," he commented benignly, his comment spoiled somewhat by the smirk of amusement playing on his lips.
"Thank you. They were a gift from Angela and Hodgins, from their time in Paris," she said.
"Yeah? Well I never would have picked you as a cat lady."
She plucked at the fabric over her torso. "These are no ordinary cats, Booth. They are Schroedinger's Cats," she said with a smile.
"C'mon, tell me. What makes all those black cats on your pajamas so special?" he asked, his brow creasing in an effort to understand her obscure reference.
"The cats are actually in two shades of grey, Booth. Representing two alternate realities," explained Brennan.
"Is this from some show on the SciFi channel, Bones? Because I still don't get the point of what is so special about grey cats pajamas."
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She rolled her eyes at him and took a long drink of her coffee before launching into an explanation.
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"Schroedinger's cat is a thought experiment, Booth. It represents the paradox around the practical application of quantum mechanical theory."
Booth did a double-take at the pajamas, eying them suspiciously. "They must have given me decaf, Bones, because all I heard just then, was something about an experiment on a cat. That's kind of a creepy thing to have on something that you wear to bed."
Brennan chuckled at his being creeped out. "The experiment isn't real, Booth! It's a thought experiment...like mental arithmetic, except applied to quantum mechanics."
"So, mental arithmetic for geniuses?" he quipped.
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She gave a smug grin. "A fundamental grasp of quantum mechanics is required, so being a genius would be advantageous. The original thought experiment presents the scenario of a cat in a sealed box with an unstable radioactive isotope, a Geiger counter, and a vial of poison. If the radioactive isotope decays, the Geiger counter picks up the radioactivity and triggers the releases the poison. If the radioactive isotope remains stable, no poison is released. The paradox is, that the scientist observing the box doesn't know whether the event has occurred. So in theory, the cat is both alive and dead at the same time."
Booth looked at his coffee cup suspiciously, wondering if the waitress at the coffee shop had slipped some LSD in his beverage.
"Those are some barbaric pajamas that you're wearing, Bones."
"Your objection is noted, but completely unnecessary, Booth. The experiment is not real. No cats are ever harmed." She pointed to a pair of cats on the fabric over her shoulder. "See? The silhouettes of the cats are overlapping, representing the paradox of being in two separate states, in two temporal realities, simultaneously. The cats are theoretically breaking the Laws of Physics. You believe that can happen, Booth. You told me yourself, remember?"
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"So now what, the cats are having sex? What kind of creepy, kinky pajamas do they make in France? Gah!" exclaimed Booth.
"No, Booth. It is a single cat, subjected to a random event, with two possible outcomes. I'll give you another practical example, seeing as you're fixated on the cat, instead of the lesson of paradox. I'm going to go to my bedroom now, for a period of five minutes, during which time, I will be getting ready to go to the crime scene with you. While I am inside my bedroom, I will randomly go about the process of getting changed. Say that you decide at four minutes to enter my bedroom to tell me to hurry up, would you find me still wearing these pajamas,...or not?"
Booth narrowed his eyes at Brennan. "You're saying that I could walk in on you naked?"
"Exactly!" she said with an approving smile. "Or, perhaps I will still be wearing the pajamas, because I elect to change my clothes last."
"Okay, I think I get it...not that I would, y'know, walk in on you like that. But this whole paradox thing is doing a number on my head. Probably because it's like five a.m.!" he said with a self-depreciating grin.
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She tilted back her head and finished the coffee in her cup. "Thanks again for the coffee Booth, and the early morning discourse. It's like yoga stretches for my brain. You should know that the confusion that you are experiencing over the paradox is normal, the other term used to describe it is entanglement. When you're dealing simultaneously with two possible choices for an outcome in your head, without knowing what is happening inside the box, it can be confronting."
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Their eyes met over the now empty coffee cup in her hand. "I take back all those mean things that I said about your grey cats pajamas, Bones. I think they're pretty special." Brennan placed the cup in his hand, and half turned to go to her bedroom.
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"I know," she replied simply, before walking over to the doorway. "Give me five minutes to get ready, Booth, okay?"
"Okay, five minutes!" he called out, as the door closed behind her.
Her bedroom door opened, and her head popped out from behind the door wearing a grin.
"No, no, no," she said suppressing a laugh. "Give me 'four minutes' ...and if I'm not ready, come in and get me Booth!"
The muted sound of raucous chuckling could be heard for at least a minute.
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FIN