The Question

[tw]

Shakespeare has since been revised and corrected to become relevant.

To be, or not to be: that is the question of quantum physics.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the conumdrum.
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune spent learning mathematics.
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles found among so many in denial.

To die: to sleep as Shroeder's cat in a box of uranium.
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks of not knowing where I exist.
To sleep: perchance to dream: of teleportation not yet consigned.
For in that sleep of universes multiple
what dreams may come of resulting experiments.

When we have shuffled off positrons in an immense and buried coil,
Must give us pause: perchace a Bosom we may also encounter.
A calamity of so long life yet but measured in nanoseconds.
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins be remembered in my data.