My work in the fields of quantum math, physics and biophysics is progressing - and changing. I have updated my theories and thoughts in my current book in progress. I look forward to your comments on this. As is noted elsewhere these theories and written accounts have been made possible by working with AI. The concepts and ideas and original words are mine, the editing and research all benefited from the reach possible via AI.
For years I have carried two competing images for the relational covering that sits over the geometric scaffolding of the world.
The first image, which arrived unbidden long before I had the formal vocabulary to bound it, was a silk sheet draped over the Riemann—a continuous, deformable surface whose behavior was set by how it rested on the underlying curvature rather than by any local patch of the fabric itself. Over time, in my working notes, the sheet gave way to a second image: a fluid. The replacement felt natural because a sheet is too static on its own. A fluid can flow, shear, carry waves, form vortices, and still drape.
Yet rereading the computational fluid dynamics (CFD) literature alongside the full arc of From Gaia to Geometry makes plain why a strict fluid is too narrow in the opposite direction—and why I have long suspected that the medium we are reaching for is neither a dry elastic sheet nor a strict Newtonian liquid, but a low-friction gel with phase change.
Computational fluid dynamics is one of the triumphs of twentieth-century applied mathematics. Integrate the Navier–Stokes equations around an airfoil, given boundary conditions, a mesh, and a turbulence model, and the computation returns pressure fields, lift, and trailing-edge vortices in slow motion. As Chapter 4 of From Gaia to Geometry notes, that flow was never filmed; it was solved.
When we borrow a strict fluid as a working picture for a universal wave substrate, however, we run immediately into a double bind that Chapter 62 prices out:
First, an inviscid fluid (Euler) has no memory of shape. A strict ideal fluid has zero shear modulus. It can carry longitudinal compression waves and circulation, but it cannot sustain a static crease, a fold, or a transverse shear wave without an external boundary holding it in place. Left to itself in three dimensions, vortex stretching in an unregularized inviscid fluid concentrates vorticity without bound until the continuum description threatens to blow up.
Second, a viscous fluid (Navier–Stokes) regularizes blow-up only by spending energy as heat. In standard CFD, the term that tames infinite gradients is kinematic viscosity (\nu \nabla^2 u)—internal friction that converts ordered kinetic energy into irreversible thermal motion. If the cosmic substrate were a viscous Navier–Stokes liquid, every circulating vortex and every propagating wave would bleed energy into a thermal bath. Orbits would decay, light would tire, and persistent structure could not survive across cosmological time without an external pump.
A strict fluid forces a false choice: either zero friction with no elastic memory of the fold, or viscosity that arrests collapse only by dissipating the system’s coherence into heat.
A low-friction gel with reversible phase change breaks that dilemma because its constitutive response depends on the regime of strain, torsion, and frequency.
In its bulk slipstream regime, it moves with vanishingly low friction—carrying waves, currents, and hydrogen filaments without viscous drag. Yet unlike a strict liquid, a gel possesses a relational network structure: an elastic shear modulus at high frequencies or sharp curvatures, and the capacity to cross a local phase boundary (sol-to-gel, or isotropic-to-nematic liquid crystal) when torsion or compression crosses a critical threshold.
That single structural change reconciles the two images that used to compete in my notes:
It keeps the sheet where the sheet was right. A gel has shear elasticity; it can drape, hold a crease, transmit transverse waves, and carry a topological fold (Lk = Tw + Wr) without dissolving into uncoupled droplets.
It keeps the fluid where the fluid was right. Below the phase-locking threshold, the medium flows, shears, and carries vortex filaments in a continuous, low-drag slipstream.
It replaces viscous dissipation with phase transition. When a downwelling wave and an upwelling wave meet in extreme torsion (as in Chapter 83, The Lump and the Well), the medium does not have to blow up to a point singularity or burn its energy off as frictional heat. Instead, crossing a critical strain or density threshold triggers a local phase change—locking the circulation into a persistent, elastic topological defect (a stable knot, a skyrmion-like core, or a localized standing wave).
This shift from strict fluid to low-friction gel also brings the hidden wrinkles in textbook thermodynamics into sharp relief.
Classical thermodynamics was built on steam engines and ideal gases—strict fluids in which every deformation that does not do immediate piston work is written off as irreversible viscous dissipation (\tau : \nabla u), an entropy tax paid into unrecoverable heat. If your only continuum model is a strict viscous liquid, then any sharp velocity gradient or vortex cascade must either blow up or bleed away into thermal disorder.
A low-friction gel with reversible phase change exposes what that bookkeeping leaves out: energy does not have to choose between kinetic flow and thermal waste. When a gel or membrane buckles, creases, or crosses a local phase boundary, work is tucked reversibly into geometry—into elastic strain gradients, topological linking numbers, and latent phase structure. Literal wrinkles (like the sub-nanometer graphene crease that writes an electrical dipole, or the cortical fold that sets an eigenmode spectrum) are places where the medium stores ordered potential in its shape rather than surrendering it to heat. What looks to a strict fluid thermometer like “lost” kinetic energy is, in a phase-changing gel, structural memory held in the fold.
Crucially, that reversibility is not an isolated property of a static object; reversibility is itself a relationship. A wrinkle, a pearl, or a phase-locked vortex core holds its form only as a standing negotiation between local curvature and the tension, pressure, and geometry of the surrounding medium. Hold the boundary relation steady, and the structure persists as if it were solid; shift the relation—smooth the crease, alter the osmotic tension, or tip the magnetic parameter—and the stored work is released back into the field without having been destroyed as heat. Irreversibility is what happens when we sever the description from the relationship that was holding the energy in place.
Naming the medium as a low-friction gel also supplies the missing bridge between gravity’s geometry and the triad of light, electromagnetism, and resonance.
In a strict fluid, hydrodynamics and electromagnetism live in separate chapters: a neutral liquid can flow and swirl, but its curvature does not by itself generate an electromagnetic field or select resonant frequencies. In a low-friction gel with elastic shear and phase change, four established correspondences lock into a single relational architecture:
Light as a transverse braid: Because a gel supports elastic shear at optical frequencies while flowing without friction in the bulk, transverse electromagnetic waves and high-dimensional orbital angular momentum (OAM) states—the 48-dimensional SU(7) state space of braided light—are native excitations of the medium’s shear and twist rather than foreign guests in a scalar liquid.
Flexoelectricity (curvature writing charge): When a sheet or gel wrinkles sharply, its strain gradient directly separates charge and induces a local electric dipole without adding a single new chemical ingredient. Geometry writes electromagnetism at the fold.
**Gravitoelectromagnetism (GEM)**and transformation optics: In the weak-field continuum, rotational mass currents drag frames through a gravitomagnetic field (B_g) that mirrors Maxwell’s magnetic induction, while spatial variations in the gel’s effective stiffness and phase density act as a transformation-optics medium that refracts and guides waves along curved paths.
**Resonance as the admission rule:**Once a local phase boundary or wrinkle gives the gel a bounded geometry and a restoring tension, the medium becomes a tuned instrument—a stretched drumhead. It no longer accepts arbitrary fluctuations; it admits only the discrete eigenvalues and standing-wave resonances that its curvature and boundary relations can sustain.
Light carries the patterned transaction across the slipstream; flexoelectric curvature and gravitoelectromagnetic shear couple the fold of the medium to electromagnetic charge; and resonance selects which phase-locked geometries survive.
A strict fluid has a flat, one-regime probability distribution: fluctuations disperse or decay at rates set by a single viscosity coefficient. A low-friction gel with phase change opens a substantial range of physical probabilities across scales:
Propagating modes in the low-friction sol regime, where wave packets and braided filaments travel over vast distances with negligible loss.
Metastable, phase-locked structures at critical thresholds, where energy is stored reversibly in elastic curvature, torsion, or liquid-crystalline order rather than lost to entropy.
Sharp, non-Gaussian transitions near tipping points, where a small shift in boundary tension, curvature, or charge flips a local patch from free slipstream to structured gel—exactly the behavior we actually observe in biological membranes (the inner mitochondrial drumhead of Chapter 80, the reversible pearling of axons in Chapter 82, and the hydrophilic water-gel matrix of DNA in Chapter 84).
Under the three-tier discipline of Quantum Constructionism, we must be exact about what this rewrite claims and what it does not.
**What we know given scientific evidence:**Classical CFD solves the Navier–Stokes equations for viscous fluids; viscoelastic gels and yield-stress media support both low-friction flow regimes and elastic shear/phase transitions; flexoelectricity and linearised gravitoelectromagnetism (GEM) rigorously couple curvature and mass currents to electromagnetic-type fields; and biological and condensed-matter systems routinely use reversible sol–gel and liquid–crystal relationships to turn continuous energy inputs into discrete, resonant geometric structures rather than simple thermal dissipation.
What we may know if evidence confirms it (call it a leap): If we model the universal wave substrate as a low-friction, phase-changing gel rather than a strict fluid, we no longer have to choose between the draped sheet and the flowing stream, we no longer have to import dissipative viscosity to arrest blow-up, and light, electromagnetism, and resonance become native relational responses of the medium’s curvature and shear.
What we do not know (and the falsifier): We do not have the constitutive equation of state for a cosmological vacuum gel, nor a derived critical threshold at which torsional wave interference locks into a proton–electron pair or bends light by Einstein’s factor of two. As a working model, the gel earns its keep only if its specific relational degrees of freedom—elastic shear storage, flexoelectric curvature coupling, reversible geometric “wrinkles” that bypass viscous heat loss, and resonant threshold phase locking—predict spectral or structural features that a strict inviscid fluid cannot.
Still, naming the medium accurately matters. “Fluid” was a useful correction when the sheet looked too still. Low-friction gel with phase change is the correction that lets the sheet, the stream, the light, and the resonance be one relational medium all along: fluid enough to carry the wave without drag, elastic enough to remember the fold, and capable of crossing a threshold where motion and geometry hold each other in form.
On Chemistry of Water
Water is one of the most fascinating chemical structures known.The changes in my theories which now include a low-friction gel as a possible phase of matter formation fits well with the known chemistry and biochemistry of water.
The measured ground gives the description both of its halves, though not at one scale. Inelastic x-ray scattering shows liquid water ceasing to behave as a strict Newtonian fluid in the terahertz range, carrying transverse (shear) modes and responding viscoelastically at nanometre wavelengths (viscoelastic behaviour of water in the terahertz-frequency range(opens in a new tab)), that is, solid-like for an instant (high-frequency longitudinal and transverse dynamics in water(opens in a new tab)). Structurally it is a transient two-state hydrogen-bond network whose local arrangements interconvert, and its anomalies track that interconversion (two-state thermodynamics and the possibility of a liquid–liquid transition(opens in a new tab)), with structural relaxation running from picoseconds at ordinary temperatures to far longer as it is cooled (time scales of supercooled water(opens in a new tab)). The earth’s surface is where water sits with all three phases within reach at once: a medium whose phase boundary is never far away.
The seam is the regime. Water’s shear memory lasts picoseconds across a couple of nanometres, while the creases this account needs hold for seconds or a lifetime; and the boundaries water crosses at the surface are crossed by temperature and pressure, not by curvature. So, the load-bearing question inside “water fits in here somewhere” is what stretches a few picoseconds into persistence: confinement, an interface, a solute network, or something not yet measured. That question can be answered by experiment, which is why it belongs in the book rather than a footnote.
Water,The Critical Substance: the pond’s distinction between the wave and the water, the draining-vortex tank, DNA’s hydration shell, and the line carried in the volume that the continuum intensifies through water’s hydrogen-bond lattices. Which of those must change a verb if water is the covering itself rather than an illustration of one?
Read the essay and the book free at theparallaxidentity.com(opens in a new tab).
