The Morningstar in The Counterintuitive Realm of Quantum Mechanics
The IQIM at Caltech, a pinnacle of human science, was the place Lucifer Morningstar had made out to solve, or rather compute his twin dilemma. It appeared as if his twin brother and he were entangled, always in communication, unwillingly knowing what the other was up to.
Energy and matter, Samael and Michael, somehow, they had been like twin protons: if one moved to the right, the other did the same, even rushing away from each other, even billions of lightyears separated.
This had intrigued him.
Did he have free will at all? He knew his brother didn't have it or at least didn't use it. Did his Father still manipulate him unconsciously? Since the beginning of his existence? If these minuscule hadrons moved on their way since the beginning of creation, only faltering in determination when disturbed, were they similar to the celestial energy of the host and if so, could there be the same side effects? Could he cause cancer in humans if they were exposed over time, just like cosmic rays? Or did his charm work like an irradiation? On dopaminergic functioning maybe? He could possibly learn something about himself.
Wearing a dark blue raw silk suit and an impeccably tailored silver-grey shirt, black hair and short beard perfectly groomed, Lucifer Morningstar stood out among the very casual or business style dressed people on the stairs in front of the Beckman Auditorium. This round structure was an example of the New Formalism style of its architect, and Lucifer couldn't seem to find it alluring at all. It was supposedly interpreting a Roman temple, but in his mind, there was no similarity. Granted, there were columns around it, but it if anything, it resembled Mongolian yurts. And yurts reminded him of war against Dromos.
His eyes ignited for a fraction of a second.
He walked over to the pretty hostesses who wanted to look at his invitation to the event, charming them with his smile and making them giggle with his rather lame comment on being the biggest proton on campus, nay, on Earth. Maybe he was an antiproton since he became the Devil? He chuckled at that idea. Then he danced and pranced like a steed before entering the dressage arena. Set out to enjoy this evening, wanting to learn, not being entangled with anyone or distracted if possible, this now seemed a tad bit difficult. He should have persuaded the Detective in joining him. She was always perfect to shield him from unwanted ministrations.
Looking into the program there were several speakers he was looking forward to. This wasn't going to be a simple TED talk for amateurs, even if he enjoyed watching them during stakeouts, criticizing all of them and driving the Detective mad. He had left Farmville and Candy Crush behind, while still collecting memes or fabricating some to bother the Douche.
"Mr. Morningstar! I am surprised to see you at such a symposium. Didn't take you for a science aficionado."
"I am intrigued by everything of celestial creation, Chief Monroe. Your star has been shining very brightly, hasn't it? I take it the mayor is still very fond of you and your efficiency." He fanned himself with the booklet, avoiding shaking hands with anybody around.
"Homicide has had outstanding numbers of solved cases, certainly also thanks to you. Would you please accompany me? I would like to introduce you to some people."
"It will be my pleasure! I have to thank you for exciting four years." He smirked and offered his arm to lead the brunette in a sharp white suit into the auditorium, which she simply ignored. She was about Chloe Decker's age but every pore of her exuded ambition which made her rise as fast as the sun on the equator. She walked in front of him and led him to a group of men in grey prêt-à-porter suits – bankers, lawyers, politicians, spin doctors. Sharks among a glide of flying fish. Already applying or selling the technology for military purposes while only theory was being discussed tonight.
Still fanning himself, although the pleasant, slightly cloudy evening wasn't even remotely as hot as his kingdom, he nodded when Chief Monroe introduced him before she presented them. As he had suspected, the men in front of him were exuding avaritia and some venial sins he could easily neglect. It came with their territory. Although somewhat boring, they might prove useful in the future.
"Mr. Morningstar, this is Mr. Fairmont from the California State Guard," she explained when the turn came to a man almost as tall as himself, well trained with wavy, chestnut brown hair, "and this Mr. White from the California Naval Militia," a dark hunk of a man, quite similar to his brother on Earth, muscles playing under the starched shirt that could barely contain them. The Devil hummed with approval.
"So you are the guys that are keeping us safe?" The sarcastic undertone not at all dissimulated, he grinned seductively and his lips, offering pearly white teeth, took a predatory form, as did his eyes. "What is so alluring this evening? What's in it for you? Tell me all about it."
"Money. Heaps of money!" interceded a man who joined the group. "What else? They are all here for business and don't understand a word of what's going to be said."
Lucifer turned around and took the man's posture in, while a small, huffed laugh escaped him.
The newcomer was shorter than his detective, his head getting slightly bald on top which he obviously tried to compensate with a fashionable full beard. His pocket-sized beer belly was trying to escape the sturdy belt; pressing dangerously against the white short-sleeved shirt to the point of where the transparent plastic button wouldn't be able to hold the flesh underneath.
"And who might you be?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
"Paul Smith. I know, a ubiquitous name. Ames Research Center."
"So you don't push pencils?
"I don't push benches either." The short man grinned and shoved his hands further down his pockets. "I am a veritable lab rat."
"Is that so? Lucifer… Morningstar… consultant to the LAPD, designated Lord of Hell and owner of LUX." He stopped fanning and produced a genuine smile. The guy had a sense of humor!
Smith laughed wholeheartedly.
"What else with THAT name! Of course The Lightbringer would own THE LIGHT! And that's why you are here? To learn more about the very essence of light itself?"
"I suppose that is true. I would actually like to know why protons behave quite orderly when being observed and completely different when not. How do they know? Is it like when my Father was sternly watching over us when much younger?"
"That analogy Lucifer, may I call you Lucifer? I like it. Light is like a naughty child and its behavior one of the great mysteries we haven't solved yet. Light is a particle and a wave and none of both at the same time. There is still so much to learn, but that will need more funding." Smith stared at the grey suits and the military in front of him.
"I would be happy to fund some research in that regard. Naburimannu, Ahmad ibn Muhammad al-Nahawandi and Shen Kuo were likewise working on some interesting questions."
"You?" White looked at him incredulously. "How much can a club owner fund?"
"Do not underestimate your competition." He answered with a spicy smirk and put his free hand on Smith's shoulder. "The Devil has deep pockets."
"Shen Kuo! Not many Westerners are even aware of him, let alone know of his work." A beautiful soprano voice made everybody turn their heads.
"Miss Pollock! How nice to finally get acquainted!" Lucifer greeted the scientist with a kiss barely ghosting her hand. "I am looking forward to your presentation."
Olivia Monroe was satisfied with her decision to present the club owner to the group. Lucifer Morningstar was entertaining, enchanting and engaged people who would usually not even look at each other.
But White wasn't sold yet.
"So who is this Shen Kuo?" he inquired squinting a bit.
"Oh, your ships benefitted from him. He found out that the compass always points to the magnetic pole. He was pretty much the Chinese Da Vinci."
Lucifer started fanning himself again just as his cellphone vibrated, and he turned to Monroe.
"I apologize, but I have to take it. It's Detective Decker." He nodded at the people in the group before he went to lean against a column nearby.
"Everything okay, Chloe? Do you require anything?"
"No, everything's fine. I just wanted to wish you a nice evening." He could make out Trixie's voice in the back but not understand her words, despite his superior hearing.
"Shall I order an Uber Eats from Manny? The spawn seems in need of some calories."
"No, no Lucifer, just enjoy yourself." Lucifer was able to hear the smile in her voice and felt warm and fuzzy deep inside his core.
"I will comply happily. Enjoy your reading!" After finishing the call he texted some emojis Maze would slice him for, but the Detective would cherish them, he hoped.
Then he returned his attention to the Chief of Police and her acquaintances.
"Are you leaving us for a homicide Mr. Morningstar? she inquired.
"Not tonight." He adjusted his silver-grey cuffs and platinum cufflinks.
"Please accompany us. It is always good to have an eloquent and entertaining personality at hand who knows how to make small talk for everyone's benefit."
Her smile was all business and Lucifer's matched hers. Taking two steps at a time he caught up with the NASA engineer and the speaker. Straightening his vest he managed to stop them in their tracks.
"May I wish you good luck Miss Pollock?" He reached for her fine boned hand.
"It's no luck but good preparation and a sense for the audience." She tapped her nasal bone with her index and winked before she shook hands. "But thanks anyway."
"I hope for a Q & A afterwards."
"Sure thing." She left both men behind, smiling.
"So, Paul, where can we get something with a high octane before sitting down?"
"I think I saw a vodka stand over there,"
"No whisky? Well, I suppose some distilled potatoes will do for now." Hands in his pockets, the LAPD consultant walked over to the sparsely clad demo-girls, smiled, talked a bit… and returned with a whole bottle and three frozen glasses.
Chief Monroe wasn't at all surprised when she noticed, but Fairmont and White had a stern look on their faces.
"If you want some, just get some glasses." Lucifer grinned, handed one iced glass to the chief, one to the engineer and, while he poured the Swedish vodka, continued to listen to Paul Smith's explanations on particles and their potential civilian uses.
"So, we are already using them in medicine?"
"Yeah. Oncology mainly. Less invasive."
"Riveting. And them?" He pointed with his glass to White and Fairmont.
"The usual."
"I thought so." He nodded. "I am actually more interested in the implications in space and time."
"That is an extraordinarily complex field, and I am not sure if the speakers are going to cover it beyond scratching the surface. The venue is still intended for the general public, albeit a more informed one." The short engineer finished the clear liquid in one shot and handed it back to Lucifer, who happily obliged filling it to the very rim.
"But isn't Fujiwara present? I mean if he dreams of making a fountain of anti-atoms using cooled lasers…"
"That is still theoretical." Smith stared at the officers.
"Not for long I would guess. The anti-matter thingy has been showered with praise."
"Even though, as long as there is no practical use to it…"
"I know. All work and no play. Boring!"
He refilled the glasses again, White and Fairmont glancing at each other before White took out his cell and tapped almost frantically on it, not sensing Lucifer's sudden appearance by his side until he felt the club proprietor's breath on his ear.
"Oh, you are wobbling me? Want my number? Or do you want a glimpse of my perfect abs?"
White turned around as if whipped before he stared straight into a pair of eyes only an inch or two away, the pleasant scent of cardamom and bergamot undulating through his nostrils, before attacking his amygdala. Involuntarily he stepped back and noticed how even Fairmont grinned roguishly. He straightened and pushed his torso forward, the phone disappearing in his back pocket.
"Bite me!," exclaimed the officer.
Lucifer's orbs followed the movement, and he couldn't help remarking while his grin broadened almost from ear to ear:
"Nice buttocks. You must be working out on a daily basis. Wouldn't mind setting my canines in them."
Suddenly turning around in a fashion reminding Monroe of a thoroughbred stallion performing a pessade, Lucifer addressed her. "But where are my manners? Chief Monroe, may I accompany you to your seating?"
Olivia Monroe intended to hide her amusement, but light crinkles around her eyes appeared involuntarily. "You may, Mr. Morningstar, just to keep an eye or two on you."
"Before I cause an avoidable incident? You mustn't worry. Not tonight." The consultant chuckled, before he added in a soft, lullaby worthy voice: "Your choice of clothes is commendable and the truly unique cabochon you are wearing around the neck is superb. As Saint-Exupéry once said: 'Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing to take away.'"
"You do not need to flatter me." Voice turning hard, she looked stern at the handsome man on her right, who immediately matched her tone and responded, only audible to her:
"I am perfectly aware of that, Chief. You are only attracted to power. It will come to you. I am always true to my word. You will be a political shooting star very, very soon."
Lucifer Morningstar discarded the almost empty bottle of vodka on a cocktail table surrounded by happily chatting Caltech-students and strode over the floor, smoothly accompanying the ambitious woman followed by the three men while she was greeting bystanders. He was about to leave the Chief of Police at her row on the lower balcony when he spotted a superior court judge and his wife.
"Judge Posey! What a coincidence we meet again! I do hope you are much better rested than the last time we met!"
The judge in question flinched at recognizing the attention demanding voice.
"Mr. Morningstar! A coincidence, right…?"
"And that is your mind-engaging wife, I suppose? It's a real pleasure to finally meet you!" The plain but well-dressed woman snickered like a starstruck schoolgirl before the Devil hit a homerun when he loomed over the husband and whispered: "Much better fitting than the yoga teacher Lexy, am I right?" Lucifer rearranged his cufflinks again before he stepped back to introduce Olivia Monroe to the judge. "Chief Monroe, you might have met Superior Court Judge Posey before? And isn't that Superintendent Escobedo? How do you do? Interesting how this event draws so many moths to the light."
After pushing Smith to talk to the Superintendent about educational projects, the tall and slightly overdressed club owner watched the audience taking seats closer to the podium.
Most of them were aficionados or students, people genuinely interested in the topics of the night, while up here people mingled for the sake of decisions that probably impacted on the people below them, and certainly on the speakers who would appear on stage.
He stared at some men in uniform that had taken their seats behind him and were engaging Fairmont. Meanwhile White was staring back at him.
"Have you made up your mind? Shall I entertain your loins tonight?" he teased leering, as he chose a seat at the aisle just in front of the man, obstructing the view below.
White breathed into his neck: "You have very suspicious business acquaintances if not well-known criminals and you moonlight at your club whose books are impeccably kept. Too clean for my taste."
"So you did not only wobble me!" The Devil turned back and grinned, content with himself. "It flatters me that you maintained your little brain busy with me. Actually, I care about keeping everything neat. LUX is my main playground on Earth as I just work part time nowadays. Getting to assist the Detective at the LAPD and punish the guilty has always been the rewarding bonus." He smiled genuinely at the thought of hunting murderers and having Chloe's back.
"I don't know how you did it, but you are having a liaison to your immediate work partner of four years when dating police officers are not allowed to work together." White snapped. "Detective Decker seems to be a sensible and upstanding officer according to the records, while you are quite an annoying guy with a long history of high-end parties with celebrities and shifty people. Also: according to many sources you are an addict of almost anything from drugs to sex. I can't see how LAPD could consider you an asset. Maybe we should look into the Chief. There might be a crooked situation with her rising to her position."
"Women are certainly quite capable to be assertive and intelligent. Unlike others." Lucifer barely shrugged; his attention ostensibly fixed on the stage below.
The naval officer coughed, intended obviously as a psychological pause, before he lowered his voice and whispered: "But then your partner Detective Decker has proven to be a very bad judge of character with her former relationships."
Lucifer had to contain himself not to grab the self-righteous man and throw him down the rows. Instead he held his index high and growled: "You will not slander the Detective's good repute!"
Only Smith's appearance, and inquiry to sit in the free seat right of the Morningstar, silenced and tranquilized both alpha males to a civilized extent. The Devil's thoughts revolved on how to get back at the man behind him, before the audience clapped their welcome to the first speaker of the evening, reminding him of the reason of his presence at the auditorium.
It was a brief introduction on quantum physics and explaining why hot objects glow that particular color of red had been the problem that quantum physics was devised to solve. The red light of a toaster and its emitted heat, or the supposedly white light of an old-fashion light bulb gave way to the science in this subatomic realm.
Nothing new for the Lightbringer here.
The color of light emitted by a hot object was an example of the sort of simple, universal phenomenon: no matter what an object is made of, if it can survive being heated to a given temperature, the spectrum of light it emits being exactly the same as for any other substance. The speaker continued that Max Planck then introduced the hypothesis that light could only be emitted in discrete chunks of energy, integer multiples of a small constant times the frequency of the light. For high-frequency light, this energy quantum is larger than the share of heat energy allotted to that frequency, and thus no light is emitted at it. This cuts off the high frequency light and leads to a formula that matches the observed spectrum of light from hot objects to great precision.
Well, that was already a 100-year-old knowledge to mankind and made the Morningstar chuckle. He had been playing with it for over 13 billions of years and humans were just grasping the game rules, yet at an ever-faster pace.
They wouldn't need his Dad anymore. Nor did they observe his own fearsome image to keep away from studying the universe since the Age of Illumination. He was becoming obsolete as scapegoat, which was a relief considering his despise of those even-toed ungulate monsters, and emphasized the accuracy of his decision to retire, not giving into Dad's orders anymore.
"What's so funny?" Smith shot him a glance.
"Celestials are not needed anymore to explain the universe. It's a respite."
The speaker was now talking about energy bands which complicate the interaction between solid objects and light as those didn't move in single states. Lucifer wasn't really interested in that either and reached for his silver flask he had filled up with the Swedish vodka. He offered it to Smith and took a large gulp after the man had politely declined.
"I can imagine that a name like yours makes life somewhat complicated."
"You have no idea!" the fallen angel answered. "But I try to make it work for me."
"Same here. My name and my looks are far too ordinary. People tend to overlook or ignore me. I am practically invisible."
"Not to me."
"No, because you are on the other side of the spectrum, so to say. You, as well, pay attention to your surroundings, people, data and details."
"The perturbing men behind me do it, too." He motioned to White, Fairmont and company, and Smith barely could contain himself.
"Comes with the territory. And yearlong training." The scientist smiled amused.
"So had I. Not voluntarily, that was."
"That's more than obvious. You love your freedom; you have a curious nature and your wife respects that - and you love her for it."
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"She is not present. You might be flirting, but you don't mean it. It's just an incredibly old game to you. You don't feel anything else but duty accompanying your wife's superior. When your wife called, you made her the priority, and you were defending her just minutes ago."
"You aren't a psychologist, are you?" Lucifer raised a brow being remembered of Dr. Martin.
"Not at all, but I do have eyes and ears, and can draw conclusions from facts."
The Devils features softened, and his back relaxed into the chair. He took another sip and tried to catch up with the theories explained on stage but found his mind wandering back into the past when his brother and himself had been tasked with creating the first stars in the ever-expanding universe.
Michael Demiurgos. Lucifer sighed. He had no clear idea what his twin had been up to since his and his followers disbanding from the Host, but he could always sense him, as if there was an invisible umbilical cord. The Sword of God, always to His Right, and righteous he thought he was, too. Stupid brother! Always feeling superior, above all others - with the exception of Amenadiel. Michael had constantly been wary of the eldest. Lucifer had no way of knowing whether it was because Amenadiel reprimanded Michael regularly when he caught him lying or anguishing the softer siblings, or if it was because he had been jealous of Amenadiel's position but knew he had no possibility to seize his place.
The first notes of Ravel's Bolero and the dimming of the lights carried the Fallen One swiftly to the reality of the Beckmann Auditorium. A screen was lit, a ballet of constellations danced on the curved canvas along to the rhythm, and Lucifer Morningstar's thoughts went back to the extraordinarily gifted dancer Ida Rubinstein. His lips moistened in the reminiscence of her gracious movements and her almost naked silhouette on stage. The music had been perfect for her body and for his stars pirouetting through the Milky Way on screen. Maurice had been a genius and written the idoneous piece for her. What a performer she had been! Almost forgotten by now. The world continued its way around the sun; carelessly rotating, incessantly changing, unstoppable.
The Sun! Hadn't it been fun to play with it and all the other tens of billions of trillions balls of hydrogen, helium, and other heavier elements? Michael beside him, encouraging or challenging him, everything to Dad's exact specifications.
At that time he hadn't been aware how short his leash had been, having the whole Universe as canvas. Today those orders would be stifling. Dad had indeed been a strict architect, and his obsession with detail would be considered repressive. Just over two thousand Earth years ago the message had changed for the humans. A rebranding of His perception - while for him the MKT department of the Host had made up an entirely terrible image. When and why did that happen? In early Byzantine Christianity he was still portrayed as a normal angel, with halo and wings.
It was good for him that humanity didn't believe in the horned, tailed being anymore. It had been an insult.
He sighed audibly.
And then enchanting Miss Pollock took the stage and explained his light and the forces of dark matter as if they were parts of a long-lost piece of music, devised since the beginning of time. He couldn't but absorb her words, feeling the urge to embrace his creations. Yes, his children were notes of a larger composition, each star humming its own melody, interweaving with its neighbor and clusters, and she had grasped it. How wondrous! His long fingers played a silent song on his femoral muscles without him even noticing it.
"Everything alright?"
"Hm?"
"You have been far, far away. Not even blinking."
"Ah, indeed." Lucifer Morningstar harrumphed awkwardly and grabbed for his flask.
"Long abandoned memories." Smith didn't question him.
The tall archangel nodded, eyes slightly shiny.
"If you'd excuse me…" He got up and swiftly left for the last row of the building, searching for the next exit. He needed to have a look at the night sky. Did his brother or his Father ever watch out for his children as he did long time ago? Probably not. They were just means to an end, just as the parent had been. Barely controlling his temper he got out on the lawn, heavily breathing and searching for the Orion Nebula and Omega Centauri. Not much else was visible with the naked eye, but it mollified his nerves just absorbing the light and silent music they had emitted so long ago. Searching for his lighter to ignite a cigarette, he became aware of the flattening of the grass.
"Mr. Smith."
"Mr. Morningstar."
Both men admired the firmament until Lucifer broke the silence:
"How much do you want?"
"You mean, how much do I need? More than double than the government is willing to pay."
"How much?"
Paul Smith took out his cell phone and flashed a PDF with the presumed budget. The archangel only raised a brow.
"Can you forward me that sheet and the project's account number?"
"Sure thing." Smith hadn't the slightest doubt that the tall, dark and passionate man was able to deliver.
"Your side of the bargain is to keep me in the loop of everything you do with the money. Understood?"
"Absolutely."
"Tell Miss Pollock I will finance her further research as well, will you? Unfortunately I won't be able to stay for much longer."
"Yeah."
"Good." Lucifer glimpsed at his cigarette bud before he flicked it to the concrete floor in front of him. Slowly he faced the short engineer, stretched his hand and solemnly stated: "It's a deal, then."
