The Other Seven Dimensions

String theory predicts the existence of seven additional dimensions beyond the four we're accustomed to (wide, deep, high, lasting), for eleven dimensions in all. It's a strange thought to get used, hard to get your head around. Stranger still, these seven dimensions are sometimes described as being curled up inside the three spatial dimensions and time. The universe is indeed a strange and terrible place.

The seven additional dimensions are as follows: luck, irony, evil, orgasm, odd socks and hangers, and two more that belong only to God, who won't say what they are, still peevish about not getting a bigger cut. Two out of eleven? He reserved the worst of Hells for His agent.

What does it mean to live in eleven dimensions? We've been doing it all along. Just as the ground knows nothing of the sky, we have no direct experience of the true scope of the world in which we live; yet, just as footpads and meteorites rain day and night on the earth, we feel the influence of dimensions beyond our own all through our lives. Some more than others, to be sure.

Take luck, for example. There are some people who are simply huge in luck, and others who barely register. Luck transcends distance and duration; it can offer a shortcut or pose imperceptible yet insurmountable obstacles. The dimension of luck is fluid and capricious, yet not entirely arbitrary, and there are those who can intuit its rhythms and rules. These people are fortunate indeed, much different from the poor saps born with two left feet and a tin ear, cursed beyond their knowledge.

Irony goes with luck like wide with deep. In this dimension are strung connections between people and places like the bell cords linking the rooms in a mansion. Irony inspires an odd mix of fear and craving in people; though often cruel, it affirms the existence of an order beyond our senses, a bitter alternative to chaos that arranges for honeymooners to drown and lost lottery tickets to win. It's in the dimension of irony that such decisions are made, and if you're wise, you'll steer well clear lest you draw attention to yourself.

Evil might seem subjective, more a matter of opinion or relativity than physical reality. Nothing could be further from the truth. Evil exists, always has, always will; to ignore it makes as much sense as denying gravity or light. While luck and irony wink in and out of our lives like quarks, evil infuses every waking moment, counterbalanced if at all solely by the presence of good—or else overwhelming and ultimate. Interestingly, unlike evil, good is not a physical reality; it's all in our minds.

An orgasm doesn't just seem like going to another dimension—it really is.

Odd socks and hangers seems self-explanatory, though the term is actually shorthand for something much more complex. It's where sense is made of things that don't seem to make any, when dropped variables and loose ends line up in orderly arrays, aloof in mockery of our fumbling consternation. It remains to be seen how the discovery of this dimension will affect our lives. Will this knowledge provide comfort by sparing us untold hours of "where the hell is it?" Or will we be tantalized mercilessly by the prospect of so many answers just beyond our grasp, even curled up within us? (n.b.—here we see the axis of irony.)

And then there are the two God dimensions. If only we could know what they contained, or even gain entrance. It's possible that one is heaven, home to saints and ghosts, and the other might be the Big Guy's own retreat, his Machu Pichu. On the other hand, it might be that they remain furled and unrealized, sketches on yellowed foolscap long left curling on the dusty workbench.

Perhaps these two dimensions were meant to be ours as well. There's no question they'd be nice to have. Imagine the perspectives they might afford, the answers they might contain. Think of the storage possibilities. We really should bring it up with God. It's funny how quickly even nine dimensions can seem claustrophobic.