Clara and Mark

  Clara: MARK! PACK YOUR BAGS, WE’RE LEAVING EARTH! Mark: Oh no. What happened this time? Clara: I may have accidentally sent a strongly worded email to the Intergalactic Council demanding they return my missing socks from the 8th dimension. Mark: …The what? Clara: AND they may have responded with, “We’re sending a retrieval unit.” Mark: Clara. Please tell me you didn’t— Clara: I DID! I ATTACHED A HAND-DRAWN DIAGRAM OF EVERY SOCK I’VE EVER LOST. I EVEN INCLUDED A STICK FIGURE OF ME LOOKING SAD FOR EMPHASIS. Mark: I—how did you even email an intergalactic council?? Clara: Mark, do you seriously think I don’t have connections ? Mark: You don’t. Clara: Then explain why there's a glowing vortex in my living room and a floating squid in a business suit demanding a “Sock Audit.” Mark: Looks at vortex. …Okay, that’s new. Clara: RIGHT?! The squid says his name is Blorpington Von Tentacle III, and he’s the Auditor of Unclaimed Fabric Anomalies. Mark: I… I don’t even know w...

  Clara: MARK! I figured it out! I solved the ultimate mystery of the universe! Mark: Oh no. What now? Clara: Reality is just a giant cosmic simulation run by a hyper-intelligent interdimensional pigeon named Greg. Mark: …A pigeon. Named Greg. Clara: YES. And sometimes Greg forgets to update the simulation properly, which is why we experience déjà vu. Mark: That’s not how déjà vu works— Clara: PROVE IT, PROFESSOR SCIENCE. Mark: Rubs temples. There are neurological explanations— Clara: OR, it’s Greg taking a coffee break and accidentally hitting “repeat” on the universe timeline. Mark: This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Clara: Yet you can’t disprove it, can you? Mark: …I hate that you have a point. Clara: HA! Take that, physics! Now, Mark, be honest. If you were a simulation, would you want to know? Mark: I am not a simulation. Clara: But what if you are ? Maybe Greg programmed you to think you’re not. Maybe he gave you just enough knowledge to ques...

  Clara: Mark! I had a dream last night that I was a subatomic particle, and every time someone looked at me, I changed my outfit! Mark: That’s… actually a decent analogy for the observer effect in quantum mechanics. Clara: I KNOW! I think I’m secretly a quantum entity. Mark: No, Clara, you’re a human. Clara: But what if I’m not? What if I only exist when someone perceives me? Maybe when you leave the room, I just— poof! —vanish into the void! Mark: That’s solipsism, not physics. Clara: So what you’re saying is… I need more witnesses to confirm my existence. Mark: No, that’s not what I— Clara: Time to hire an entourage! I’ll call them The Clara Verification Squad! Mark: …Please don’t. Clara: TOO LATE! I just texted 17 people. I told them to watch me at all times so I don’t quantum-fluctuate into oblivion. Mark: Deep sigh. You do realize that’s not how reality works, right? Clara: Is it though? Is it REALLY? Because last night I also dreamt that I was a donut, and whe...

  Clara: Mark! Mark! Do you ever wonder if black holes are just really grumpy stars that got tired of shining? Mark: Clara, that’s… not how stellar evolution works. Black holes form when massive stars collapse under their own gravity— Clara: Uh-huh. But what if they choose to collapse? Like, one day they just say, “Nope! I’m done with this glowing nonsense!” Mark: Sigh. Stars don’t have free will, Clara. Their fate is determined by mass, pressure, and nuclear fusion. Clara: So you’re saying I have more free will than a star? Mark: Technically, yes. Clara: Hah! Take that, Sun! I win! Mark: That… that doesn’t even make sense. Clara: You’re just mad because I outsmarted a giant ball of plasma! Mark: That’s— sigh —okay, Clara. What does make sense to you? Clara: That pigeons are government spies. And that socks disappear into alternate dimensions. Mark: Physics can actually explain the sock thing. It’s called entropy— Clara: Or tiny black holes in the washing machine....