Schrodinger’s Cat Driving down from the mountains in a gum-laden haze our cell phone applications didn’t connect, and our granddaughter, wired so intimately into everything, was lost without her social media, ready to return to the mainstream and her study of mathematical inequalities. In Newcastle we sought out an old café we once knew, now under new management. What we found was a disappointing wormhole from our past, and our granddaughter suggested we buy meat pies in Frederickton. But the hundred-gallon aquarium behind the main bar still swarmed with tinsel barbs speeding through streams of endless bubbles, while the giant…