Some people have a reputation for having a positive or negative effect on electronic equipment – they are either an ‘angel’ or a ‘gremlin’.
One of the fathers of quantum theory, the brilliant theoretical physicist Wolfgang Pauli, was widely known to possess a powerfully negative force field. Whenever he arrived at his laboratory, mechanisms would freeze, collapse or even be set alight.
I am a gremlin of the first order. In those rare moments when I am crashing around in a bad mood, computers in our office have begun crashing in unison.
Some years ago, during a day of extreme agitation, after I had broken my computer and printer at home, I headed off for work and tried to work on a variety of computers around my company’s office.
One by one, they died in my hands. When one of our laser copier printers also froze the moment I tried to photocopy a page, my team firmly but politely escorted me off the premises.
The stubborn robot
The late French biologist Jacques Benveniste discovered the gremlin effect first hand when he carried out experiments on electromagnetic signaling between cells.
From 1991, after his noted ‘memory of water’ studies, Benveniste understood that the basic signaling between molecules was not chemical but electromagnetic.
Within a living cell, molecules communicate, not by chemicals but by electromagnetic signaling at low frequencies, and each molecule has its own signature frequency.
Until the end of his life in 2005, Benveniste explored the possibility that these molecular signals could be transferred simply by using an amplifier and electromagnetic coils.
He demonstrated that it was possible to create a molecular reaction without the presence of the molecule in question simply by playing the molecule’s unique ‘sound’.
One of Benveniste’s many experiments with cellular signaling concerned the interruption of the coagulation of plasma, the yellowish medium of the blood.
Ordinarily caused by the presence of calcium in the liquid, the clotting capacity of plasma can be precisely controlled by first chemically removing all existing calcium in the plasma, then adding back in particular amounts of the mineral.
By also adding heparin, an anticoagulant drug, the plasma is prevented from clotting, even in the presence of calcium.
In his study Benveniste would remove calcium from the plasma and add calcium to water, but instead of adding the actual heparin to the calcium water, he simply exposed the water containing calcium to the ‘sound’ of heparin transmitted through the digitized electromagnetic frequency of heparin that he had discovered.
As with all his other experiments, the signature frequency of heparin worked as though the molecules of heparin itself were there: in its presence, the blood was less able to coagulate.
Benveniste had a robot built to carry out this experiment, largely to silence his critics by eliminating the potential bias of human interference. The robot was a box with an arm that moved in three directions, mechanically exposing the water containing calcium to the heparin in several easy steps.
After hundreds of such experiments, Benveniste discovered that it usually worked well except on days that a certain woman – an otherwise experienced scientist – was present.
Benveniste suspected that the woman must be emitting some form of waves that were blocking the signals.
A frequency scrambler
He developed a means of testing for this, and discovered that the woman emitted powerful, highly coherent electromagnetic fields that appeared to interfere with the communication signalling of his experiment.
Somehow, the woman acted as a frequency scrambler.
To test this further, he asked the woman to hold a tube of homeopathic granules in her hand for five minutes. When he later tested the tube with his equipment, all molecular signaling had been erased.
Since the problem was likely to be electromagnetic, the obvious next step was to protect the machine from EMFs by building a shield. But once the shield was in place, the machine stopped producing good results.
Benveniste pondered this development for some days. Perhaps it had to do with positive effects of the environment, and not simply the absence of negative effects.
He opened the shield and asked the man who had been in charge of the lab for many years to stand in front of the robot.
Immediately, the robot began again to crank out perfect results. As soon as the man left and the shield was put up, the robot no longer produced decent data.
This suggested that, just as some people inhibited equipment, others enhanced it. The shield, originally erected to stop negative influences, had blocked positive ones as well.
Benveniste reasoned that the only substance near the robot capable of picking up positive or negative activity was the tube of water, so he asked the head lab technician to hold the tube in his pocket for two hours.
He then put the tube into the machine, removed the man from the room and put up the shield. After that, the robot’s experiments worked virtually 100 per cent of the time.
These anecdotal stories of the gremlin effect are not so farfetched when you consider the mountains of data generated by the late Robert Jahn, former dean of engineering who ran Princeton’s PEAR laboratory, demonstrating that human intention has the ability to make the random output of computers more orderly even when the intention is not conscious or deliberate.
Living consciousness might have a major effect on microprocessor technology, which is now exquisitely sensitive. The tiniest disturbances in a quantum process can be highly disruptive.
So today, make sure to tell your computer and smartphone to have a nice day.