Read The Theatre of the Apocalypse - Part 1 Page 4
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The first one who told me about chaos theory was my father. He was professor of Latin at the University of Stockholm, but devoted all his spare time (and secretly a large part of their time) to the study of chaos theory.
By chance, he came into contact with chaos research when he was in Boston in 1972 and got a meeting cancelled. At the Sheraton Park hotel where he was staying was the 139th annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Since he had the morning off and knew several of the participants at the conference, he asked one of the organizers if he could not sit for a while to pass the time. The same morning at 10 am with my father in the front row mathematician Edward Lorenz's held his famous speech Does the flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? And my father was imprisoned.1
Chaos Theory in itself is not very complicated, even though the mathematical exercises can be. The theory is essentially on what is said in the title of Lorenz's. The emphasis is mainly the initial values in an experiment, change the fourth decimal place and you get a completely different scenario. Like many other great discoveries in history Lorenz formulated the theory because of a mistake he committed when he was doing a prediction about the weather. When he was repeating a previous experiment, he wanted to save some time and filled in the truncated initial value .506 instead of the full .506127 and got a completely different result.
And it is obvious that there are an enormous number of initial values in terms of impact on a process, for example, a given event in a person's life - a car accident, birth, graduation, genetic makeup. But the most important initial values, including the Constantinople manuscript that I mentioned just now, of this story and what followed because of those initial values are all recorded in this manuscript.
My father always stated firmly that my creation was dependent on a rotten apple in a kiosk outside the Empire State Building in New York City. He complained about the apple which he had bought with the result that he missed his flight home to Stockholm > overnighted at an airport hotel where he got help booking a new flight via Frankfurt > a storm concentrated in Frankfurt marooned my father again > pissed off he went into the town > got drunk at the nearest bierstube > got into an intense argument about the origin of the letter C in Latin of all things > woke up at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof > took the train home to Sweden > few weeks later, he sat in his office (he was a graduate student then) and wondered what type of beer he had drunk in Frankfurt > when he didn´t remember, he went to the pub Tudor Arms on Östermalm (which had many beers) > after having plowed through the range, he found nothing > when he was about to go there was a football match in the Europe Championship on between West Germany and Spain, and he stayed because he wanted to see the Germans lose > to the game a party of four arrived who sat next to my father. It was the first time my mother and father's eyes met.
I am the rotten apple in this story. Without me this story had, at least in the end, probably would have been quite different.
But the story is not about me and I will not take more space than I need. You could say that I'm sitting on a stand and watching the game, but I see far and I see many, many games.
It´s all about Ludwig, everything has always been about Ludwig.