All right, you found me. Like a subatomic Carmen Sandiego, here I am. Oh, that joke is dated? I’m sorry, everything past the Stone Age is current when you were here at the beginning of time. So please, spare me your inability to comprehend temporal relativity.
Look, I didn’t call you all to the Garden Inn, Geneva so I could trade barbs with CNN’s lone Science and Technology Correspondent. No, I called this press conference for one reason: to ask that you please stop calling me the God Particle.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. I get that you’re all excited that I’m probably what you’re looking for. But please don’t ask me why we’re here. I‘ve been getting this non-stop since you found me a few months ago. At first I thought you meant our current location. So I’d answer, “Because four and a half billion years ago a planetesimal rammed into a larger celestial body.” or “Because they’ve canceled all flights to Denver.” But it quickly became clear to me you meant something bigger. Truthfully, I don’t know why we’re here. I wish I did. As it turns out, I’m kind of like you—I exist, but I couldn’t tell you why.
And look, sometimes, you ask me how it feels to be the God Particle, and it’s like you’re not even listening to me. Actually, I’ve been told that name was a joke, but then you all took it and ran with it. So now, after billions of years of being left alone, I’m left to grapple with an existence that’s part-Magic 8-Ball and part-calling press conferences where Fox News’ Chief Science Correspondent asks me if I’ve met Jesus. It’s strange that it takes a juicy headline to get most of you interested in me. Then I’m forced to remember that some of you have done an impressive job trying to unlock the mysteries of the Universe, and some of you respect Lil’ Wayne as an artist.
Anyway, just please don’t call me that name anymore. The following is a list of names I’d prefer to be called. Suggestions are welcome:
- The Charge Zero Zipper
- Super Spinless Subatom
- The Massmaster
- The Great Decayer
You’ll notice there’s nothing on that list along the lines of The Supreme Judge or The Decider (oh, that joke is dated, too? Sorry. Maybe you forgot I’m as old as the universe.) That’s because I can’t help if you do bad things. I’d rather you didn’t, but if you do, I’m unable to administer justice of any kind, divine or otherwise.
Trust me, if I were a god, I would tell you. I’m not some bearded guy loafing around the heavens, getting off on watching all 7 billion of you scramble around trying to figure out why you were born. I’m not even a guy! Plus, I want to know what dark matter is as much as you do. That shit’s awesome.
So listen, if you’re having a crisis of existence—and would you really be human if you weren’t?—go read some Camus or something, and please leave me alone. I’m comfortable with myself, sure, but I’ve had almost 5 billion years to get here, and to be honest it really only happened within the last billion or so. At the end of the 1.64359e12th day, I’m just a particle. Sorry.
Oh, and I don’t work like Santa, either. So to the guy who asked if I knew about his Little Mermaid-based fantasies, the answer is, I didn’t until you told me. Sorry comrade.
Dammit, that word too? My bad.