Imagine a box. A little black box, containing two lively kittens and some other, valuable things, made up from rather stable atoms. Image a thin vial of cyniade within the box.
Now imagine further that at any point in time, either or both of the cats can implode spontaneously, flooding the whole box and everything in it, in cat shit. They can also climb and jump everywhere and shred everything to little pieces.
You can easily find out if the cats have imploded or not, if your belongings in the box have been covered in saucy stuff you don't want to think about, if any feline quadruped has been wreaking havoc upon your belongings, by opening the box. But as long as you keep the box closed, all possibilities exist inside it. Every variation from well-grown kitties playing peacefully on their blanket to drenched couches over shredded wallpapers upto shattered hitech equipment is in that moment inside the closed box. All imaginable possibilities.
I come home from work and open the box, in this world represented by a smallish 66 square meter apartment...
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