There remains much unfinished business in contemporary quantum physics.
Perhaps the most important issue of all is the correspondence between the mathematical objects of the theory and the reality of the laboratory. This is an old wound in physics, one which split the Church back in the 1920s when our new theory first came down from the mountain. Moses may be long dead now, but Abrahamanic tradition lives!
In the red corner, we had Bohr, Bohm and Heisenberg preaching the doctrine of the incomprehensible other, the land of the small, which was inherently non-commutative and involved (shock horror) matrices. In the blue corner, we had Einstein, de Broglie, Schroedinger and a bunch of other malcontents believing in fields and continuity.
In our own world today, this schism has resolved itself most imperfectly. We have, it would seem, rejected both Bohr and Einstein. To make matters worse, we no longer read either Schroedinger or Heisenberg. Perhaps we have a Tree, but the Fruit is Strange and leaves a sour taste. It is most unsatisfying to the intellect.
Quantum physics today is a theory most perfectly severed from its roots and what came before. It drifts around like a fallen autumn leaf on a pond, executing ever so fine whorls of in-consequence.
The theory is now a mess, a very fine mess indeed.
We have rejected the Copenhagen interpretation and now favor some populist nonsense that Quantum Theory is so weird that book sales would be most increased by pretending that everything happens at once and everywhere.
We have Many Worlds and in each of them some book will be a best-seller, Goddammit!
These days the cognoscenti have stopped pretending that the Theory of Everything is “just around the corner”. No no no. Now the theory of favor for Everyman can be found just around whichever corner he chooses to look!
No longer do we believe that there is The Theory. No no no. Everyman must have his very own theory. Theories for all… that is the New Physics.
Go forth and Fork the Physics Kernel.
The more monkeys we have at the cosmic typewriter the better.
One day, one lucky monkey will strike out the riff that is gold.
A best seller.
Physics as Airport Novel.