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Cars crowd sidewalks, people throng the streets, mingling in a complex dance. The dance is guided by blue signs and fading pavement-paint of lots of crosswalks, a few yards apart.
We cross only at the crosswalks, where we see cars always stop and we are safe. Or so we think. Uh oh! They are too fast, too close. In the next gazillion quantized tocks of time I recognize that they are fermions, which means that they are dangerous.
The sign on top says City Taxi. I holler to my wife andβtocks seem to be slowing nowβbefore the fuzz begins to try to occupy the same space as my fermions, I do what I have often practiced mentally for this occasion: I jump. Almost no tocks later that I notice I am lying on the street. I am five yards down-street from the crosswalk!
Is this like neutrinos zipping into Italy from France questionable evidence of matter moving faster than the speed of light? Their insistence on the Pauli principle has dislocated my left shoulder joint. Luckily, I have done that before, so I know how to snap it back. Someone helps me up. Someone runs up with a chair for her, a water bottle offered with his other hand. Nearby, a muezzin starts the call to prayer.
It blocks off the traffic, all three lanes. Sixty seconds later, it looks like the taxi driver is under arrest. On a crosswalk? Even worse. Two pedestrians? Julia Roberts said it: BIG mistake! It carts us off too; whither, we know not. An odd thought comes to mind as someone starts it up: If the taxi had been made of bosons we would not have had that quantum same-space argument.