DUST

As I prepared to assume the position before my keyboard and punch out some words, I slowly became aware that my keyboard had a sort of hoary patina. I ran my finger along the surface and checked out my skin. There was a grey, fuzzy coat on the surface. What is this? I wondered.

As I looked about my little office, I saw that the surfaces of most everything bore a thin coating of this stuff. What's going on? I asked myself.

This office is sealed. Nothing can enter a window. The doorway, of course, might let in a some "particles" suspended in the air. Still, why doesn't it go to the floor. Reason would dictate that gravity would force these particles onto my carpet, where it could be vacuumed and removed, which is a process offered each Saturday, when good folks come in to attend to this particular matter. Yet, I find that dust has settled upon loftily situated furnishings and equipment about as evenly and thickly (or thinly, depending on perspective in these matters) as on those lowly situated.

I know, cold, that Mother Nature is not an equalitarian by her very --excuse the expression--nature. Mother Nature doesn't care who or what is high or low. It is true that ultimately "Mom" brings everyone and everything down low. Entrophy? Whatever! This cannot be the explanation.

I have a theory that there is a microcosmic force here on earth (and especially in sealed or almost sealed rooms) whereby dusty particles are "created" out of nothing. The force must be similar to the formation of stars. In space elemental units are forced together to build larger materials, which, again, are drawn together firmly, until the process reaches some kind of critical mass and bursts into starlight. Why can't the same process account for dust in enclosed areas? [It might even explain "spontaneous" combustion!]

This would also perhaps explain why dust isn't necessarily uniform. A quark here, a charm there, a missing meson over yonder, and before you know it, a distinct particle of dust is born. Folks, they aren't all the same.

I've seen dust particles that seemed incredibly sticky, while other layers of dust were like a mercury sheen. Some dust is gritty, while other dust is soft. And some dust you dare not even touch, due to its dangerous or repellant character. Breathe in the "wrong" kind of dust and it could be "curtains."

The point that I'm trying to make is that dust warrants a lot more study before we can confidently reach a modus vivendi. Remember what Zwingali said (paraphrased): "There's more under the heavens and upon this earth than your sciences dreamt of." And Trilby can vouch for that!