Without the question
there is no quest.
CERN, referred to as a temple of science, is a physical echo of Stonehenge. Both are questions. The religious forms and the scientific forms make reality form around the query.
The quest begats measurements. That the besmirched knight fails, trapped in rusting armour, is measure enough to justify the story.
The story begats the community, the community begats the narrator, the narrator begats the story, the story illuminates the measures, the measures make the reality.
Who collapses quantum wave packets with query? How is our scrutiny collapsing collapse? And, buckled beneath this looking, a veritable crash, a multi-vehicle pile up, so does reality grow.
The list of known "elementary" particles was growing so long that the field was in danger of developing an almost biology-like level of complexity."
Imagine, the horror! Fundamental reality as described by physicists might bear some comparison with fundamental reality as experienced by insects (and others).
We kiss the quarks and move on. Our questing noses pollinate the time line, a future shifts, our sneezes rumble significantly.
I dreamt of a recipe for eggy bread: slather one side of bread in chocolate spread and then soak the other side in the eggy mixture. Fry in pan on just the the egg soaked side. From dream I ran down to the kitchen and tested this. It is, I assure you, delicious, although I cannot vouch for any health benefits.