Low - Frequency Signals

Entropy dictates that all systems naturally drift toward disorder and isolation. I’m pretty sure the physicist who formalized this was just trying to coordinate a group dinner for four adults in their thirties. 😜

Case in point: few weekends ago, I managed to pull off an absolute logistical miracle. I had long catch-up calls with two different set of friends. One weekend, I was the one rallying the troops and wrangling schedules; the next weekend my friend Hoda did the heavy lifting of scheduling a Google Meet for us. 🩵

Hanging up the phone after both calls, I was struck by two things. First, an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I have such amazing, brilliant people in my life. Second, an acute, aching realization that of just how much I miss them. Trying to build a new social circle from scratch in a new city has been tough to say the least. For an introvert who fundamentally dislikes talking to new people, the sheer energy required to network is completely draining. Small talk with strangers is a form of psychological warfare for me. 😬 Navigating a new city is exhausting, and it makes the comfort of those established, effortless connections feel all the more vital.

Making friends as a kid was largely a matter of proximity. You shared same classes and labs, mutually agreed that the cafeteria food was a crime, and boom —lifelong bond. Now as an adult? We are scattered. Careers, relocations, and the sheer, exhausting inertia of adulthood have pulled us out of our shared orbits.

I’ve been thinking that my PhD research on Coulomb drag because I am fundamentally incapable of turning off my physics brain (nope I am absolutely not apologizing for being a Nerd) and also I am currently tasked with reviewing a paper on the subject. Stay with me, I promise there is no math in here.

Here is an aggressively simplified summary of four years of my life’s research. Imagine two quantum wires placed very close together, but completely physically separated by a gap. If you push an electrical current through wire A, the electrons in that active wire interact so intensely that they force the electrons in wire B to start moving too. Even though no physical particles ever cross the gap, the friction of their interaction induces a current in the second wire.

Adult friendship is basically just Coulomb drag, but with more voice notes.

We are all living on parallel wires now. We are separated by massive geographical geodesics, entirely incompatible Outlook calendars, and general exhaustion. We aren’t crossing the gap to hang out on each other’s couches on a random Tuesday anymore. Yet, the energy of good friends still induces a current in your own life.

When a friend lands a wild new job, survives a brutal week, or just texts you a completely unhinged meme at 2 PM on a Wednesday, the momentum transfers over the gap. The current drag you forward. They remind you of who you are when the inertia of the daily grind makes you forget.

But here is the catch with Coulomb drag: it requires proximity, and it requires energy. If the wires drift too far apart, the interaction weakens and the signal dies.

Keeping those wires close without actual proximity is exhausting. It means scheduling a phone call with same logistical intensity as a grant defense. It means replying to a text three days late with “OMG I am so sorry I’m the worst, anyway…” and knowing they’ll still be there.

Endless songs and books are written about romantic love (and as a devoted consumer of authors like Emily Henry and Abby Jimenez, I am certainly not complaining). But the sheer gravitational force required to keep our platonic lifelines intact also deserves the exact same level of epic acknowledgement.

So, go fight entropy today. Send the text. Drive a little current through the wire, and see what sparks back. (Someone please kindly remind me to actually take my own advice 😉)

This issue is dedicated to all my brilliant friends. Thank you for keeping my current flowing, no matter the distance. I miss you all. ❤️

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