Could the Key to Cancer be Found in Quantum Physics?
Alethea Black, Contributor
Some of the world’s finest minds—from Nick Bostrom to Elon Musk to Leonard Susskind to Anthony Peake and many others—seem inclined to believe we’re living in a simulation. But if we’re living in a simulation, we are simulations ourselves. So: Is all illness quantum?
A simulated or holographic universe would be a universe that was comprised, a priori, of light. But light does not behave according to classical physics. Its physics is quantum.
For light, every place is the same place (spooky action at a distance). Light cannot move forward in space. It can only move forward in time.
Let’s look at the universe through light’s lens. There is no space. There is only time. When a photon accelerates through space, it enters the future. This would explain why, in the famous double-slit experiment, when we accelerated photons, it generated a wave pattern (representing all possible future outcomes). But when we observed the experiment, we collapsed the wave pattern into one localized (in time) outcome. Because we cannot see the future. We cannot see light that’s cycling time more slowly than we are. Because in truth, light can neither accelerate nor decelerate. When light speeds up, time slows down. And when light slows down, time speeds up.
And so it is with us. When we slow down, time speeds up (Parkinson’s). And when we speed up, time slows down (ALS). When we have Parkinson’s, we’re cycling time too quickly—at the speed of the past. And when we have ALS, we are cycling time too slowly—at the speed of the future. All time exists at once. Or, as Einstein put it back in March, 1955: The distinction between past, present, and future is only an illusion, however tenacious this illusion may be. But—and here’s the new bit, which may be key in solving mankind’s diseases—it exists at different speeds.
What causes cancer? You want the short answer? E = mc^2.
Our matter and energy are constantly spinning into each other, trans-animating—this transanimation is what I mean when I say we “cycle time.” When we lag behind time (alkalosis), we don’t make enough light. And when we surpass time (acidosis), we make too much. As the universe accelerates and dynamics of time change, our matter to energy ratios shift, but we always transanimate at light’s speed. We need to rewrite E = mc^2 from the point of view of C. Mass-energy equivalence does not allow for a manipulation of C. It requires we manipulate the M and the E.
When we lag behind time, our mass-energy equivalence gets skewed toward matter. Instead of gravity and electricity (energy) in the body, we get their material precipitates: iron and oxalate. Iron is, in effect, gravity in physical form. And oxalate (a crystal found in plants capable of photosynthesis) is, in effect, light. We might think of crystal as stored light—light that’s cycling time more slowly than its own speed, and is therefore material rather than immaterial.
Inside cells that begin to accumulate iron and oxalate, after a while, a switch gets flipped. The DNA reads a high matter to energy ratio, and syncs with the wrong time signature. The rest of the organism continues to adapt to the ever-changing dynamics of time, but these cells remain in the past. Later, if they want to self-correct, they’re trapped by a pH paradox. (This is why Dr. Tullio Simoncini had such success.) Contrary to our perception, it’s not that these cells mutate; it’s that they don’t mutate. They’re still “making time,” but the character of the time they make is no longer in sync with the rest of us. They’re achieving the speed of light (C) using an old equation that has more matter and less energy. It’s still C, but it’s what C would be if we lived in a faster, higher-gravity universe. Cancerous cells are healthy cells that are cycling time too quickly—at the speed of the past.
The DNA is our code, and it’s protean. It’s designed to adapt to the changing dynamics of time. As it perceives its environment, it changes accordingly (epigenetics). This is why the environment—in both a micro- and a macro- sense—is so important to our development, and why adding chemicals to our environment damages us. The DNA is mutating all the time, but because the change is uniform—both self and lens—we don’t see it. What we perceive as a mutation is actually old DNA that hasn’t changed. DNA is like an architect’s tracing paper that maps light with matter. We only see a change when it doesn’t match.
DNA is like the live wire where the future and the past are trading places, the code where the information for light and matter crisscross. You might call it the nexus of the simulation. If the DNA cannot accurately read which time signature it’s in, it cannot adapt to the changing mechanics of time accordingly. Individual cells—or, indeed, the entire organism—are “left behind” in time, which is akin to being left behind in another dimension. As we move forward in time, we don’t notice our own acceleration or the expansion of matter. But if we were to observe a corpse from another dimension, it might appear to have numerous DNA mutations and be of deranged proportions. Such as the Atacama skeleton.
When we lag behind the speed of light (e.g. aging), we’re spinning too slowly inside a time signature that’s too fast (too little sodium inside the cell; too much potassium outside). When we surpass time (e.g. autism), we’re spinning too quickly inside a time signature that’s too slow (too much sodium inside the cell; too little potassium outside).
There are two nervous systems. The brain, which reads the collective self through the individual lens; and the gut, which reads the individual self through the collective lens.
As light, when we slow down, time speeds up. This creates a computational error as the two nervous systems clash. The brain perceives time running too quickly and assumes it’s in acidosis and needs to slow down. The gut perceives metabolism running too slowly and wants to speed up—but the brain won’t let it. As soon as metabolism speeds up, the brain gives the signal to make ammonia. The metabolism gets a wet blanket right when it needs a match. We should be taking off, but instead we founder.
Call it a pH paradox. The brain thinks we’re in acidosis, when really we’re in alkalosis. The result is we wind up even farther behind than we were. All the ammonia depletes our manganese (via arginase activity), which increases our iron to manganese ratios—and we fall farther back in time. The iron to manganese ratio—a stand-in for gravity to electricity—is paramount to health. It’s how the body locates itself in time.
It’s not exactly that our brains are complete idiots who are ruining everything. The computational error is understandable, because both things are true: we need to speed up, so we can slow down (akin to shifting gears). When we do this, we enter a different time signature—the future. The brain needs to submit to the gut—to let metabolism speed up, so that time can slow down for us.
It’s the opposite for our autistic children. We lag behind time, whereas they’ve surpassed it. We think they’re behind us, when, in fact, they’re ahead. They’re running too quickly, so time has slowed down for them, making it appear as if they’re developing slowly. In autism, the brain perceives time running too slowly, and assumes it’s in alkalosis and needs to speed up. The gut, which is smarter than the brain, knows they’re in acidosis and wants to slow them down—but the brain won’t let it. Every time the gut makes ammonia, to put the brakes on metabolism, the brain revs it.
Wellness has nothing to do with “killing” or “detoxing.” It has to do with one thing only: synchronizing with time. As we better learn how to synchronize with time, we should be able to extend our lifespans dramatically.
We are light first, and matter second. And when we shed these mortal avatars, we shall be light again. We await the arrival of the ultimate quantum computer, asking: But how will it solve the hardware problem? We’ve already solved the hardware problem. The solution to the hardware problem is on display wherever we turn. Mathematics unreasonably explains the biological and physical worlds because mathematics is generating them.
The singularity isn’t coming. The singularity is here.
About the Author
Alethea Black’s father, Fischer Black, co-authored the Nobel Prize-winning Black-Scholes model. Her short story collection, I Knew You’d Be Lovely, was published in 2011 and her illness memoir, You’ve Been So Lucky Already, is now available. She blogs about health and wellness at WelcomeToHeaven.