The scientists at BIPM were sitting around in
the laboratory one day, bemoaning the fact that the International
Prototype Kilogram was getting fat,
when God
appeared as if from nowhere.
“Bonjour tout le monde! Comment allez vous?” He said, in perfect French, before changing to
English (which will, I assure you, make this whole thing a lot easier). “Thou hast a kilogram problem. I shalt solve said problem by creating for
thee and thine a perfect cylinder of perfectly pure divinium (TM) that weigheth
precisely one kilogram. Here thou goest!”
God waved His arms impressively and a cylinder appeared
in the air in the middle of laboratory.
“Ye obviously hath noticed that the new Divine Prototype
Kilogram (DPK for short) art apparently floating in the air. But nay, it floateth not! Yonder DPK art not only perfect in its
construction, dimensions and weight – yea verily it art immoveable. Hie ye, scientific peons, attempt to smite mine DPK such that it moveth and ye shall find that it moveth NOT!”
After a few minutes during which the scientists translated
what God has been talking about, they took up the challenge. They tried to push and pull the DPK manually,
then with ropes, then with a pulley arrangement – to no avail. The DPK would not move.
“Fear not, mes enfants!” said God “Ye canst prevail over
mine DPK so easily, nay, nor shall ye render harm unto mine DPK. Have a real crack at it, garçons!”
“Zut alors, God, I’m a lady scientist!” said one of the
scientists, “But ok, we’ll have another go.”
However, despite all their efforts, including the use of sledge
hammers, pneumatic tools, cranes and even a bulldozer, nothing could shift the
DPK. The scientists had to admit that
God had created an immoveable object.
“Merci,” said God.
“Now, for my next trick, I shalt move mine immoveable DPK and properly resolve
the age old paradox.”
Again, God waved his hands impressively and, to the
amazement of the scientists (even including the lady scientist despite still being miffed), the DPK moved 50 metres to the right.
“Sacré bleu!” they stereotypically exclaimed. “God moved the DPK even though we have just comprehensively
demonstrated it to be immoveable!”
“However,” said the lady scientist, in a bit of a huff, “You
just moved the DPK, therefore it is not immoveable! The paradox stands, you can’t make an
immoveable object!”
God smiled and merely directed the attention of the
scientists to the world outside the window.
The entire laboratory was now 50 metres to the left. “Watch!”
Again there was an impressive waving of hands and this
time, the scientists could see that DPK remained stationary as the entire
laboratory moved back to where it was previously.
“Aha!” exclaimed the lady scientist. “So you can’t move
the immoveable object after all – you cheated by moving the laboratory around
the DPK. The paradox still stands.”
God took on a slightly smitey expression and waved his
hands again, somewhat less impressively.
The DKP, once again, moved 50 metres to the right. The scientists looked out the window and saw
that they were precisely where they were before.
The lady scientist looked a tad flustered. “We’re just back where we started, you know, now
you actually have moved your immoveable object, which means the
paradox still stands unless … unless …” She paused as realisation dawned. God assumed a smug expression. “Dammit, you just moved the universe and
everything in it to the left by 50 metres, didn’t you?”
“Something like that,” said God, accidentally slipping
into modern vernacular. “Thanks to My
old buddy Einstein, I solved this paradox ages ago. Relatively speaking there’s no functional difference
between Me moving the entire universe with the exception of the DPK and Me
moving the DPK itself. If I want to make
an immoveable object, I can. If I then
want to move it, I can – while it actually remains immoveable.”
“However…!” started the lady scientist, but God had gone.
