Schrödinger’s Grenade
A physicist builds a grenade that only explodes when unobserved. Nations scramble to outstare each other, the military bans blinking, and civilization collapses into an arms race of wide-eyed paranoia.
Dr. Callahan had never intended to create a quantum superweapon.
He was just trying to solve a very specific problem:
How do you build a grenade that only explodes when nobody is looking?
“But why would you want that?” his assistant, Linda, had asked.
“Because it’s cool,” Callahan replied, scribbling equations on the whiteboard.
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is in physics.”
And so, after eight months of funding, an unfortunate number of lab fires, and one mysterious visit from the government, Callahan’s experiment was finally complete.
The Schrödinger Grenade.
A device that—due to an unstable quantum waveform, a complete disregard for ethics, and possibly a wiring mistake—only detonated when unobserved.
The problem, of course, was testing it.
The grenade sat on the lab table, its black casing humming ominously.
“Alright,” Callahan said. “Let’s test it.”
Linda frowned. “How?”
“We stop looking at it.”
“And then it explodes.”
“Yes.”
“So we’ll be blown up.”
“Not necessarily. We just need to blink.”
“This is the worst experiment I’ve ever been a part of.”
Unfortunately for Linda, the U.S. military disagreed.
Word of the grenade leaked almost immediately, and within days, every major government wanted in.
The problem? The grenade would not explode as long as someone—anyone—was looking at it.
This led to the most absurd arms race in history, in which nations competed to develop the longest uninterrupted staring sessions ever recorded.
The CIA deployed agents trained in tactical blinking.
Russia trained bears to watch grenades, just in case.
North Korea hired an entire village to do nothing but maintain eye contact.
For months, the world remained in an uneasy state of grenade-based deterrence.
Until the unthinkable happened.
It was Private Evan Mitchell, a 19-year-old soldier assigned to Grenade Observation Duty, who made history.
One evening, while stationed at a top-secret facility, he felt a slight itch in his left eye.
He resisted.
He held firm.
And then, he blinked.
The grenade instantly detonated, reducing the entire bunker to an ash-covered crater.
The official military report described the event as "deeply unfortunate" and "entirely foreseeable."
The government banned blinking.
Society collapsed within the month.
As civilization spiraled into eyeball-related anarchy, Callahan sat in his lab, watching a single grenade on his desk—his last test unit.
He hadn’t blinked in days.
His vision blurred. His eyes burned. He knew, deep down, that he couldn’t hold out forever.
And so, with one final, exhausted sigh, he did the only thing he could.
He reached for a mirror.
And as he turned it toward the grenade, creating an infinite loop of reflection, Callahan whispered:
“Checkmate.”