In this remarkable box is, as far as I know at this moment in time, nothing. The space inside it will only become filled on June 8/9th 2017. I could be wrong and what may be in the box is an infinite number of ever changing possibilities.
It could be a remarkably busy space given that there is nothing in the box generating or creating what’s going on inside. Alternatively, it may be an entirely dormant space until the very moment of opening it, on June 9th.
If there is anything going on in the box it is being entirely generated by the world around it.
Until the box is opened millions of people will be trying to influence its contents. Some, strangely, will do it in sheds in woods, with selected acolytes by invitation only, excluding everyone else, including the press, refusing to answer any questions that are not delivered in advance written on the backs of lackeys and only requiring the responses ‘strong and stable’ or ‘coalition of chaos’. That’s pretty odd, but elections are always odd, though seldom pretty.
Others will, more traditionally, hold rallies and meetings on the streets, in halls, pubs, clubs, homes, and around high street tables. Millions of leaflets will be delivered by hand and by post to, I assume, every home in the land. Except to rabbits, rabbits never seem to vote and so no one bothers with them.
And in these days of the interbunny (no relation to rabbits), the online world, mostly around the UK, will be a Twitter and a Facebooky and a bloggy and a newsy with more information than you could want or desire in a lonely B&B on a rainy day in Scunthorpe (sorry Scunthorpe, I only chose you for the enigma of your name) with a busted TV, the lecky run out and a dead cat for company.
Many will preordain the result in advance, or have a fervent indifference to the result (called apathy), whilst others will declare it bent, as in crooked, cooked or rigged and likely all three.
Still others will declare that we have been invaded by aliens and that the Queen is a lizard.
In the quadrasphere (© Ami Bee) hyper-dimensional beings will simply scratch their heads.
Throughout all of this Schrödinger’s box will be quietly sitting here, or there, emitting no sound or hint of its contents whilst people go out of their minds in the heat of battle and election fever.
Come the day, tradition and prejudice will triumph over sense or reason, whilst those swaying will have to finally make their choice. Voting boxes will be filled, transported, opened and contents counted, the airwaves will be filled with the excruciating sight and sound of talking heads, until eventually Schrödinger’s box will be opened and the results declared.
And life will go on, dragging its sorry arse through time and wondering why it bothered and England, dear England, will have a nice cup of tea and get back to blaming Johnny Furriner for everything.
KOG. 03 May 2017
