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New ways of thinking encourage new ideas and ultimately new products!
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PerspectiveI remember that my parents would sometimes take me to visit the famous
Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco. One of my happiest childhood memories is
of crouching next to the pond, mesmerized by the brilliantly colored carp
swimming slowly beneath the water lilies. Living their entire lives in the shallow pond, the carp would believe that their “universe” consisted of the murky water and the lilies. Spending most of their time foraging on the bottom of the pond, they would be only dimly aware that an alien world could exist above the surface. The nature of my world was beyond their comprehension. I was intrigued that I could sit only a few inches from the carp, yet be separated from them by an immense chasm. The carp and I spent our lives in two distinct universes, never entering each other's world, yet were separated by only the thinnest barrier, the water's surface. I once imagined that there may be carp “scientists” living among the fish. They would, I thought, scoff at any fish who proposed that a parallel world could exist just above the lilies. To a carp “scientist,” the only things that were real were what the fish could see or touch. The pond was everything. An unseen world beyond the pond made no scientific sense. Once I was caught in a rainstorm. I noticed that the pond's surface was bombarded by thousands of tiny raindrops. The pond's surface became turbulent, and the water lilies were being pushed in all directions by water waves. Taking shelter from the wind and the rain, I wondered how all this appeared to the carp. To them, the water lilies would appear to be moving around by themselves, without anything pushing them. Since the water they lived in would appear invisible, much like the air and space around us, they would be baffled that the water lilies could move around by themselves. Their “scientists,” I imagined, would concoct a clever invention called a
force in order to hide their ignorance. Unable to comprehend that there could be
waves on the unseen surface, they would conclude that lilies could move without
being touched because a mysterious, invisible entity called a force acted
between them. They might give this illusion impressive, lofty names (such as
action-at-a-distance, or the ability of the lilies to move without anything
touching them). After collecting his wits, the “scientist” would tell a truly amazing
story. “Without warning,” he would say, “I was somehow lifted out of the
universe (the pond) and hurled into a mysterious nether world, with blinding
lights and strangely shaped objects that I had never seen before. The strangest
of all was the creature who held me prisoner, who did not resemble a fish in the
slightest. I was shocked to see that it had no fins whatsoever, but nevertheless
could move without them. It struck me that the familiar laws of nature no longer
applied in this nether world. Then, just as suddenly, I found myself thrown back
into our universe.” (This story, of course, of a journey beyond the universe
would be so fantastic that most of the carp would dismiss it as utter
poppycock.) Michio Kaku, Hyperspace, Oxford Press, 1994.
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