In any case it gives me ideas how to check the hypothesis. If the Reality has a limited horizon for planning for new laws, scientists can trick it into inventing new laws that eventually (after some more research and even more laws observed) would start contradicting to each other, and at that point the Reality would snap into a different set of rules.
If it is true, then the plan is like this: we need to wipe all the scientific knowledge from this world and start again, and trick the the Reality into devising better laws of nature. Ah, wait, we have no evidence that the Reality can abandon laws that were introduced already. Pity, the plan is brilliant, but how to check if the Reality can abandon its laws? If laws are local... we can do something like Stephenson described in his Anathem: establish maths doing independent research and comparing their results once in 1000 years.
It's a third of the way through the article when "g-2", the problem at hand, is mentioned. Information that should have been shared in the title took a third of the article to figure out.
The lipstick putting can be exposed by simply asking if you would not prefer a version of the scientific method that is never wrong.
There are several books from Greg Egan with this idea in mind: Permutation City and Distress. The latter one is exactly about this idea.
PHDs will spend years mastering some intricate multi-day long procedure to do some thing and a new discovery will obviate the need for the procedure completely.
If you're writing an article about a man going to the store to buy a sandwich, the man, the store, and the sandwich should all make appearances by the end of the first paragraph.
These people are writing informative articles like novels and it's incredibly irritating and a disservice if you're actually trying to inform anybody about anything. If you're writing an article about the g-2 anomaly, "g-2 anomaly" belongs in the title not 1/3 the way in.
Science writing for a general audience is really challenging.
Edit: oops, see the reply below... and my grumpy response. I seriously forgot about that entire plot point.
There isn't really an "us" in academia like there is in a private company, who all have a common goal: in academia the goal is to get there before another does and be on top.
if objects you put on a table started falling through the floor it would be a bit stressful
lol
but Dr. Becky gets really excited about all the various "crisis in cosmology" because she knows new science/knowledge will emerge from solving those questions
and you remind me there's another season coming up in that series, can't wait
"Is he still in the grandmother’s house? We would like to speak to him."
That rarely gets funded. And even more rarely handed off to grad students. In a sense the failure of a bunch of grad students is priced in to the way science is done.
Which makes it so perverse their lives and careers depend on success as newcomers.
Edit: Though I agree that alien scientists of Tri-Solaris probably lead more depressing lives than their counterparts on earth
I don't know if this series is yet considered far enough in the past that we don't have to worry about spoiler warnings (I feel like the house rules about this apply differently to books than to movies), but I will just say that one of the most fascinating and mind-bending considerations in the book is the idea that some civilizations progress linearly and some progress exponentially, and how mind bending it is to have to plan ahead for exponential advances.
Then don't claim it as a strength!
That also stuck with me as weird: there are any number of places you could sabotage a precision physics experiment by injecting tiny amounts of noise, which would drive the scientists to think they were bad scientists. Instead they thought science was broken.
As someone who has looked for inconsistencies with the Standard Model for a while now, and seen every measurement land bang-on the prediction, I can say that I would love any deviation that said our existing theories are broken.
And sure, crank up the detector noise and we'd be sad, but ask any grad student: having your apparatus suddenly spit out garbage data is just an average day. I've known plenty of scientists with psychological problems but it's never coming from their data.
Quantum Mechanics is the closest thing I can think of, where Einstein famously refused to accept some of the implications, and where scientists had great disagreements about things like the Copenhagen interpretation and what it means for the actual nature of reality - but I don't think any of them were sad about it.
I thought they were referring to the inability of the aliens to make an accurate calendar.
I want to read a spinoff of the Three-Body Problem with this premise.
I think in the context of the book, the specific means of sabotage was something close to impossible to figure out, so I can see the despair of checking every conceivable explanation, coming up empty, and making an inference about reality itself. And it wasn't a kind of peripheral, controllable amount of noise, it was a complete global sabotage of all particle physics, on a scale that amounted to a global catastrophe rather than just another blip in the daily grind.
I think one thing that really hooked me on the book series in the beginning was being able to appreciate the kind of cosmic despair one scientist was sharing during the pool table conversation, because thinking big about meaning and order in the universe, and how important the universes' intelligibility is to our relationship with it, informed by data, is a synthesis of things that really matter to me as a reader - taking the intersection of science and meaning seriously.
I don't think that would be enough for plausibly explaining particular scientists offing themselves, but the psychology of someone to whom that kind of question matters that much, which is very much the heart and soul of what drives my interest in non-fiction reading, seems tragically underrepresented as a driving motivation in fiction which I think is terribly unfortunate. But sci-fi sometimes cares about it, and sometimes a lot.
Ludwig Boltzmann, who spent much of his life studying statistical mechanics, died in 1906, by his own hand. Paul Ehrenfest, carrying on the work, died similarly in 1933. Now it is our turn to study statistical mechanics.
- "States of Matter", David L. Goodstein, https://archive.org/details/statesofmatter0000good_e2n5/page...https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ignaz_Semmelweis wound up in an insane asylum for suggesting surgeons should wash their hands.
Scientists get hidebound just like the rest of us, at times.
But I thought that the Trisolarians' inability to predict their planets' path also seemed weird. Yes, the three-body problem isn't analytically solvable, but you can brute force it, and I would imagine that a species that is capable of creating sophons and starships with hulls made out of the Strong-force could calculate their planet's trajectory for the next thousand years without too many problems. (It would be academic, anyway - if you can build that kind of technology, why do you even need planets?)
And I also hated the sophons.
Was rejected and mocked by the medical community for his idea, developed a drinking problem and eventually committed to an asylum by his colleagues after having a nervous breakdown. While in the asylum he was beaten by the guards and died from a wound infection ... yikes!!
This makes it perhaps not a particularly good example of the phenomena being discussed, as he was suicidal not because of what he had discovered, but because no one believed what he had discovered.
But also the book doesn't suggest that scientists going missing was just a function of humanity's customary response to scientific progress. In the book, it's a very intentional sabotage campaign.
The specifics (proton-scale supercomputers sabotaging scientific experiments by altering the outcomes into incoherent results, the adverse reaction being suicide) aren't important here, because that's obviously the realm of fiction -- we don't need an actual instance of scientists committing suicide to suggest that it's plausible, because we don't have an actual instance of proton-scale supercomputers sabotaging results[1]. We just need to acknowledge that adverse reactions to unexpected results do happen, so plausibly in a fictional story if you have very unexpected results then your scientists could have very adverse reactions as well.
[1] That we know of.
I thought that was sexism rather than philosophers? This was the same era and place that mostly ignored Bertha Benz.
(Or did you mean after moving to the USA?)
(The parent post also already mentions Einstein on quantum physics.)
Sure enough, it's what I thought - you don't mean that some evil boogeyman named Hegel lead a worldwide charge against physics. (I doubt Hegel even understood physics, lol. But you get my point.)
You mean that two physicists had a disagreement, one held institutional power, and ostracized the other.
Fine, but then why attack philosophy? Things are philosophy until they're not. Dogma happens in every field.
Active malice seems more likely to succeed, doesn't it?
They can gaslight people in their own heads, after all.
We saw two examples, definitely unfortunate for what they were but well short of a built in civilization level reaction to scientific progress writ large. I don't think there's a single by and large way that people react to scientific revolutions, negative or otherwise. Feels like it depends on a combination of how it impacts most powerful stakeholders, things about culture, and things about the zeitgeist of a particular moment.
>we don't need an actual instance of scientists committing suicide to suggest that it's plausible, because we don't have an actual instance of proton-scale supercomputers sabotaging results
Right, the specifics of the science fiction don't matter here. And plausibility counts for something though it's a dramatically lower threshold. And the person above who is appealing to scientific revolutions writ large seem to be attempting a general level inference to human reaction to scientific revolutions, which is a huge inference to make on the back of a pair of one-off examples.
Possibility counts for something, but I would say it only goes as far as explaining contingencies of particular circumstances and doesn't explain trends, and what happens within the fiction of the book is a trend, and it's explained by a sabotage campaign rather than by an appeal to the stresses of day-to-day science.
Indeed that is highly implausible. I daresay that anyone stating otherwise fundamentally lacks an understanding of the sort of people that are attracted to and work in the sciences. Paradigm shifts are a form of progress and progress is the raison d'etre.
Note that one or two outliers do not contradict a larger trend. Also that the examples given so far, in addition to being highly unusual, follow from social phenomena downstream of the new results rather than being a direct personal reaction to them.
That said, as noted by others that isn't what's going on in the book being discussed. So the plausibility of that plot point needs to be judged on its own merit as an entirely separate sort of thing.
The listed cases are not outliers in the scientific community. The individuals were outliers, but the scientific community, in a mode of behaviour that was not outlier-ish, shunned them. This tendency of scientists is well-established: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planck%27s_principle
At the end of the day, humans are largely egotistical, self-centred creatures, and scientists are no exception. When you say that scientists believe that progress is their raison d'etre, you may not be incorrect, but their belief in progress is grounded in a self-centred way. Perhaps the ideal is "progress for humanity", but the reality is more like "progress for my career" or "progress for my worldview", in which case results challenging everything you hold as a foundation are a threat to you, being regressive rather than progressive in matters important to one's ego. People really, really don't like being told they're wrong. Even scientists.
New calculations seem to have put a 25-year-old particle physics puzzle to rest. But they’ve also created a clash with other experimental results.
For 25 years, physicists have been puzzled by an apparent one-part-in-a-million problem. Their expectations of the way that certain particles should wobble in a magnetic field were clashing with what they saw in experiments. The discrepancy was an electrifying hint that they might be seeing evidence of unknown particles.
Then in 2021, that hint seemed to evaporate. When researchers updated the way they did their theoretical calculations, they found that their predictions matched the experimental results much more precisely than before, to one part in 100 billion.
But that, in turn, has created another puzzle: The old calculations seem perfectly valid. So why don’t they match the new calculations? Those older predictions were not purely based on theory; they were also inferred from other experiments. If the older calculations conflicted with newer results, and the older calculations were based on experimental data, was something strange going on in those old experiments?
One promising clue comes from a particle collider in Siberia, which has recently started seeing its experiments dramatically diverge from what it and other colliders saw in the past. Its results have sparked a flurry of activity as physicists try to determine whether the conflicting measurements are a side effect of different experimental procedures, or a sign that new particles are popping up after all.
The particle at the center of the mystery is the muon, a heavier cousin of the electron. A muon behaves a bit like a tiny bar magnet. Spin one in a circle inside a magnetic field and the magnetism will make it wobble, tracing out its own, smaller circles. The sizes of these circles are determined by a number called a “g-factor.”
If the muon sat isolated from other particles, its g-factor would be exactly 2. But quantum theory requires that all other particles influence the g-factor. As the muon wobbles, it releases particles such as photons, which are too short-lived to show up in detectors. These can release other particles, which can release still more particles. The muon quickly reabsorbs all these fleeting particles, and the only trace they leave behind is that the muon wobbles a little bit more. Through these intricate chains of emission and reabsorption, every particle in existence has some small effect on the movement of the muon.
That makes the precise size of the excess wobble, the muon’s “g–2,” invaluable as a window into the quantum world. “The measurement of muon g–2 is a proxy for saying how many particles exist in the universe,” said Alex Keshavarzi, a senior research fellow at University College London.
So when an experiment at Brookhaven National Laboratory on Long Island measured the muon’s g-factor in 2001, physicists were thrilled that it came out larger than expected. To some, it hinted that new particles — perhaps even particles that could account for dark matter — were at work.
Physicists set out to check the result with an even more precise measurement. In 2013, Brookhaven’s 50-foot-wide magnetic ring was moved via an elaborate series of barges and trucks to Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory (Fermilab) in Illinois, where an upgraded version of the experiment would take even more data.
To prepare for that new experiment, physicists also made a huge effort to understand the theoretical prediction that disagreed with the data. Their challenge was to understand the muon’s chains of emission and reabsorption in extreme detail. In particular, how much do the particles associated with each of nature’s four fundamental forces participate in these chains?
The calculation is straightforward for three of nature’s four forces. Gravity is so weak that physicists can ignore it outright. And both the electromagnetic force and the weak nuclear force can be deduced using a standard technique.
The strong force, however, is not so easy to deal with. That force tightly binds particles known as quarks into composite particles such as protons and neutrons. Standard theoretical techniques don’t work on the strong force. So physicists have to get creative.
In his doctoral thesis in 2018, Keshavarzi helped hone an alternative way of understanding the strong force, called the data-driven method. In this method, physicists don’t try to predict how often muons will emit and absorb groups of quarks. They go out and measure it.
The main way that happens is by colliding electrons and their antimatter partners, positrons. The matter and antimatter annihilate each other, creating other particles, including bundles of quarks. If lots of quarks appear, physicists know they have a tight quantum link to particles such as electrons and positrons. In short, the more quarks appear in electron-positron collisions, the more strongly they will affect the muon.
Using the data-driven method, physicists set out to calculate the expected size of the muon’s magnetic wobble. That prediction, which was released in June 2020, sharply differed from Fermilab’s precise experimental measurement, which came out in April 2021. The discrepancy was so strong that it nearly crossed the stringent threshold required for physicists to claim they had discovered new particles.
But a different theoretical calculation would tell a different story.
Not all physicists pursued the data-driven method to calculate the muon’s wobble. Some were working on a more purely theoretical technique to make their prediction.
The approach resembles what happens in weather forecasting. While it is possible, in principle, to understand the weather by keeping track of the precise contour of every breeze in the atmosphere, in practice that task is absurd. Instead, meteorologists divide the atmosphere into big boxes — a 3D grid — and calculate how each box changes on average over time.
Likewise, it’s too hard for physicists to keep track of every strong-force interaction between every pair of quarks. So physicists use a technique called lattice QCD (short for quantum chromodynamics, the theory of the strong force), to use a big grid to simulate the overall behavior of quarks.
In 2014, a collaboration among researchers in Budapest, Hungary; Marseille, France; and Wuppertal, Germany — the BMW group — started on a project to use lattice QCD to calculate the muon g-factor.
At first, their predictions were 10 times fuzzier than data-driven inferences. Low-energy particles tend to spread out, so capturing their possible positions requires using a huge lattice. High-energy particles need a comparatively smaller grid, but one with an extremely fine mesh. “Back then, it was unimaginable that one day lattice would reach the same precision” as the data-driven method, said Kalman Szabo, a professor at Wuppertal who was involved in the effort.
It took a decade of developing clever computational techniques — and waiting for increased computing power — for the BMW group to wrangle grids that were both sufficiently big and sufficiently detailed. But wrangle them they did. In 2021, on the same day that Fermilab released its updated muon g–2 measurement, the BMW group’s result appeared in the journal Nature.
According to the BMW group’s lattice calculation, Fermilab’s muons were wobbling exactly as they should. Since then, independent lattice groups have published matching calculations.
Today, many physicists believe the muon mystery is no more: According to the lattice simulations, the muon’s extra wobble can be explained entirely by the emission and reabsorption of known particles obeying the known laws of the known forces.
So why does the data-driven method indicate otherwise?
To figure out what’s going on, physicists are drilling into the electron-positron collisions driving the data-driven method. These collisions are supposed to be a direct window into quark behavior, but calculations based on this data disagree with both the latest experimental results and BMW’s prediction. So what’s really going on in the aftermath of those collisions?
In the city of Novosibirsk in southern Siberia, the VEPP-2000 collider has been crashing electrons into positrons on and off since the turn of the millennium. It’s a relatively gentle collider, operating at 6,000 times lower energy than CERN’s Large Hadron Collider, near Geneva.
The VEPP-2000 features two detectors that precisely count how often certain bundles of quarks, known as pions, pop out of the electron-positron crashes — data that physicists have been using to infer how much the strong force was messing with muons.
In 2010, physicists installed a completely new detector. They then used it to more precisely measure this pion production rate, which they published in 2023. After the refresh, they found that the rate changed significantly.

Fedor Ignatov, a physicist at the University of Liverpool in the UK, was a member of the team that measured a mysterious new rate of pion production at the VEPP-2000 collider.
Courtesy of Fedor Ignatov
“It was a surprise. No one expected it to be like that,” said Fedor Ignatov, a physicist at the University of Liverpool in the UK and member of the team.
Physicists had seen faint hints that something strange was going on with the pion rate. They noticed that measurements of it from experiments in Italy and the United States were starting to drift apart. But the dramatic divergence of the new measurement from the detector’s own past results, along with the collaboration’s claim of high precision, made the situation hard to ignore.
Physicists have pored over the result. “No measurement has been scrutinized more,” Keshavarzi said. So far, no problems have been found.
Recent lattice-based simulations align with the newly measured rate. And preliminary data from the other detector at the VEPP-2000 collider also seem to match. Meanwhile, a 2023 analysis of data collected earlier at yet another experiment at a collider, BABAR in California, sits in striking agreement with the older rate.
All of this leaves physicists wondering what’s really going on in all these collider experiments. The discrepancies point either to signs of unknown particles meddling with the quarks, or to overlooked details generating the mistaken impression that quarks are misbehaving. Either way, particle physicists can’t rest until they have solved the new electron-positron mystery, and figured out whether the old pion rate, or the new pion rate, is the right one.
“There are four decades of measurements that preceded that, that were all done in different ways, that were all done by different people, that were all done by different experiments, that all paint a completely different picture,” Keshavarzi said. “There is so much still left to do.”
Correction: July 30, 2026
The original version of this article stated that the BMW group carried out simulations that directly predict the new pion rate. BMW’s calculations support the new rate, but only indirectly. Other lattice groups have more directly gone after the pion rate.