Sci-Fi Short Story
Dark Matter & the Christmas Gift
Unwrapping One of the Universe’s Biggest Mysteries.
Sometimes, there’s no escape!
Halloween is one of those times. But it’s Christmas, and putting up the decorations in front of my house that’s the worst. There I am, exposed on the street for hours, having to be friendly and all smiley to everyone who passes by. The lights could be shocking me. The globes may have blown. I may have just hit my thumb with the hammer. It doesn’t matter. This is the “joy to the world” season, so you MUST be nice. That sounds bad, doesn’t it? But you know what I mean. The conversations are often rhetorical and inane. “Nice weather,” “You’re getting into the spirit early,” “Is that a real tree?” You get the picture.
However, my biggest fear is not the stranger — it’s Victor!
He’s my crazy neighbour from across the road. Now, the conversations with him are never superficial; it’s just that they always leave me with a kind of headache or a disturbing idea that lingers around like a bad smell. So I’ve taken to using extreme measures to minimise the opportunities of chance encounters with Victor. Mainly by taking out the trash at midnight — if it’s not too cold.
But like I said, it’s Christmas, so there’s no escape.
There I was, up on the ladder. Hanging the Christmas lights over the garage door and hoping I would find all the nails from last year. I must have been very engrossed in the job because I never heard his footsteps.
“Hey, Andrew. Merry Christmas. Putting up the lights, I see.” Yes, you guessed it. It was Victor.
“Oh, hi, Victor. Happy holidays to you. Yes, you caught me. Seems this is the most exercise I get every year. What do they say — the lights don’t hang themselves!” I secretly hoped he’d have some story about Elon Musk’s new self-hanging Christmas lights. Now, that would be one to which I gladly listen.
But alas, it was not to be.
I finished fixing the last light, and then, from my elevated vantage point, I could see Victor was clutching a small Christmas present. “What’s that you’ve got there, Victor?” I enquired.
“Oh, this is a little something for you, Andrew. Just my way of saying ‘thank you’ for all the lattes and cookies you’ve given me over the year. You’ve been such a good neighbour to me.” Now I was feeling a smidge guilty. Victor’s heart was in the right place. I climbed down the ladder, and once I was safely on terra firma again, he handed me the present, adding, “Merry Christmas.”
I had no choice, “Thanks, Victor. Coffee?”
Soon enough, we were inside, sitting at my dining table — Victor with his Brazilian latte and me with my steaming black coffee. I’d laid out some chocolate chip cookies and a bowl of mixed Christmas sweets. Three long red candles with some holly and tinsel wrapped around the base of a golden candelabrum stood in the middle of the table. Victor’s present was also there, just off to my right. It was a small box wrapped in exquisite paper. Primarily red, it had an intricate design of multi-coloured Christmas symbols — pine trees, candy canes, presents, bows, sleighs, reindeer, and, of course, Santa.
My naked Christmas tree sat in its bucket of water in the corner of the room — the box of unopened decorations waiting to reach the top of my “to-do” list. Yet the tree was already doing its job. The sweet, pungent pine smell was overpowering — filling the room. It screamed “Christmas”.
I sipped my coffee and asked, “So, do you want me to put it under the tree or open it now?” I slid the present in front of me.
“Oh, yes, please. Open it now,” Victor waved his hand as he gulped down the first swallow of his beloved latte, then surreptitiously took a sweet and dragged the bowl closer when he thought my attention was on the gift.
I’m always careful with wrapping paper — something I picked up from my Mum. I never just rip into it. No, I was more like a surgeon, painstakingly removing the sticky tape so as not to tear the paper. Eventually, it was mission accomplished. The intact but crumpled gift wrapping was pushed to the side while a fragile golden bauble — a tree ornament in its clear plastic container, remained in my gentle grasp.
I held it up to admire and looked over to Victor — intending to thank him, but noticed his gaze was fixed on the discarded Christmas paper. Oh, no. Dare I ask?
“It’s beautiful, Victor. I’m going to put that on the tree tonight. Thank you.” He was still staring at the paper and munching a Christmas lolly — mesmerised.
“You know, Andrew. I think you may have just unwrapped one of science’s biggest mysteries.” Victor’s attention had turned from the gift wrap on the table. He was now staring directly at me.
“Dark matter!” he said slowly.
I blinked, “Haven’t we talked about that before?”
Victor seemed quite serious, “Oh no, Andrew. That was DARK ENERGY — totally different.” I could already feel the tension building behind my eyes at the prospect of another headache-inducing Victor chat.
Victor continued, “Yes, dark energy pushes things apart, while dark matter holds things together. You see — very different.” I was nodding — with my limited scientific knowledge, I knew the difference between a push and a pull. Maybe I shouldn’t have nodded, but Victor was now like an uncorked champagne bottle — impossible to stop. Crazy stuff was going to emanate from his mouth, and I would be drunk by the end. Resigned to my fate, I put the beautiful bauble down lest I drop it in shock later.
Victor had my complete attention.
Drawing from our previous discussions, I knew the “dark” part in any of these wacky things meant they were invisible. So I started boldly, “This dark matter stuff, it’s invisible, isn’t it? So, how do they know it even exists?”
Victor shoved a handful of sweets in his mouth and began munching, “That’s a good question, Andrew.” He picked up his mug and washed the lollies down with some latte (eww). Then he continued, “Well, by calculating the mass of a galaxy and by studying its spin, scientists realised they should fly apart — the galaxies, that is, not the scientists. Although that would be funny — scientists exploding!” I wasn’t laughing. “But the fact that the galaxy remained intact meant some additional invisible matter was there, holding the whole thing together. Hence, they coined the term dark matter.”
I again nodded — better to get this over with quickly. If I shook my head, Victor would certainly prolong my agony with an additional explanation. However, the question in my mind had been begged, so I asked, “How did my unwrapping a gift trigger this conversation?”
“Ah, yes, you are a physics genius, Andrew! Laying out the thought experiment right there on the dining table for me to discover — brilliant. It’s crystal clear — THERE IS NO DARK MATTER! It’s just the permanent crinkles in the fabric of space-time.”
Permanent crinkles! I was glad I’d put my ironing away so Victor didn’t get any more ideas.
Victor could see I wasn’t getting it, “Let me demonstrate.” He grabbed the discarded gift wrap and placed it before him. “Imagine this crumpled wrapping paper is the fabric of space-time. Then I add some stars.” He took a salt shaker from the kitchen counter and sprinkled grains of salt onto the paper. “Look what happens — the stars gather into the valleys of the crinkles — see?” Indeed, the salt was concentrated in the paper creases. “Now, what happens when I spin the paper? See, the salt stays in position. There’s no matter holding it in place. It’s just the topology of space-time. The crinkles!”
Victor had THAT smug look again as he finished his latte.
I picked up space-time, taking care not to spill any of the stars on the table or floor — although if I did spill a couple, then I could make a wish, couldn’t I? Then I went to the kitchen and tipped the galaxy of stars down the black hole in my kitchen sink.
You see — Victor always messes with my head. Sponges, cups, chopsticks, you name it. After another of Victor’s explanations, I could never look at the mundane things in my house the same way ever again.
But then the Christmasy smell from the tree broke into my consciousness — reminding me of “peace on Earth and goodwill for everyone”. Smiling, I rejoined Victor in the dining room. “Well, I still have a lot of chores to finish before Christmas Eve. Thank you for the gift and the lovely conversation.”
Victor stole the last sweet from the dish. “Thank you, and Merry Christmas, Andrew. You are my favourite neighbour — you certainly get science!”
I thought it but didn’t say it.
BAH, HUMBUG!
Thank you for making it this far. I trust you enjoyed this story. I wish you a merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate at the end of the year. May the worst of your troubles be finding which of my crazy stories is the funniest to lighten your mood during the holidays.
Live long and prosper.
