TO WINTER 11 Paul Adrien Maurice Dirac
TO WINTER
11
Paul Adrien Maurice DiracDirac
There was a time when I continued to read Kiyoshi Oka's books with admiration. The joy of discovery, the joy of writing, irreplaceable friendship. The existence of Nakatani Jujiro. The conversation in Yufuin. A farewell beyond the Siren Hill. The last haiku that Nakatani sent to Oka. After talking to I, A studied hard. One after another, ideas that he wanted to write came to him. He typed them into his computer and sent them to his web page. That way, he didn't have to keep anything on hand. Anything he kept on hand would eventually dissipate, just like it had done before. This time, he wanted to survive. He wanted to record the traces of his own writing. He wrote at night and on holidays. Braid theory writer Otsuki Tomotada said he thinks on tex, and that's how it felt. He had almost no materials to think about, so on his days off he went to the library. He walked from his house in the opposite direction to the station, turned right and walked up a gentle slope, and the library was right at the top of the hill. Entering the gate, there was a spacious lawn in front of the building, where people were relaxing and chatting. It was a peaceful and relaxing space. The building was three stories tall and shaped like the letter U in katakana, with a courtyard in the middle. There were benches and grass in the courtyard, where people were also relaxing. A went to the mathematics section on the north side of the third floor and spent his time there reading the books he needed. As a resident, he could have borrowed books, but he kept that to a minimum and just looked at them. At home he concentrated on thinking and writing. It was a good library and had almost all the books A needed. He read the parts that seemed relevant over and over again and took notes. He left the parts he didn't understand and moved on. One day, when I was reading Hiroshi Matano, he wrote at the end that just as water and air are discrete when viewed at a microscopic level, in the future it may become clear that time and space are not continuous at a microscopic level. The flowing time of a print may also be discrete. Ultimately, will time itself become a quantum? If the world is discrete, it is a classic idea to think of a sphere as a model of language. However, there is no need to stick to a sphere anymore. It can be a distorted figure or a patchwork figure that has been glued together. As long as the model is consistent, it can be freely chosen. Cantor said something really good: mathematics is free. When I was tired, I skimmed through magazines. One day, I was looking at the back issues at the back of the latest issue, and I found a piece by Kazuhiko Nishijima. Wasn't it a while ago that the death of this man known for the Nishijima-Gell-Mann law was reported? Time passes by in the blink of an eye. The end of an era, if that is the case, then is this piece almost his posthumous work? Nishijima says that Dirac introduced many time variables into the Schrodinger equation, leading to a free electromagnetic field, and Tomonaga further gave freedom to the electron field, introduced independent time variables in space, and derived an equation that does not depend on the coordinate system, thus establishing the theory of supermultiple time. Nishijima goes further and writes that according to Dirac, the vector of the future hypersurface C2 depends on the two present and future hypersurfaces C1 and C2, and the function that operates on it is given by integrating C1 to C2. In other words, when a certain state is integrated by a closed time, one future time is determined and expressed. This is similar to the fact that when an inherent closed time is set for the shape of a Chinese character, one meaning is determined. Dirac's theory can be extended to language. Language can be expressed in physics. Isn't this exactly what I told I? A remembers the Modigliani exhibition at the New Museum of Art that he went to last spring. Shortly before that, something about the chairs in the museum had been in the newspaper, and the two of them talked about it. --I heard there is an expensive chair in the new museum. A grove of trees in early spring was visible from the window of Rainer's "Mountain Ridge". --What kind of chair is it? --I don't know, but when you sit on it, you feel kind to nature. --Is that so? --I hope it's like that. He was half hoping for that. --But I hope it really is. It was a day when warm spring was just around the corner. We met at S station to see the Modigliani exhibition, and took the subway because it was a little far from the city line. He liked the subway. --It was almost scary. When the elevator slowly descended deep at S station, I looked like he didn't really want to ride it. I had that kind of side to him. When we got out onto the ground, the spring light was dazzling. The exhibition was wonderful. Now that I think about it, was Modigliani's existence a premonition of expressing a universal language? Looking at his paintings, I was filled with a deep sense of relief. Something similar to the deep, whole-body joy that Oka was talking about, that comes from discovery, was probably born within A as he looked at Modigliani.
August 20, 2024
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