I remain perpetually stunned by the supernatural talents some academics claim to possess. Apparently, they can stand at a polite distance, inhale once, and divine the entire atmospheric composition down to the last dainty part per million. A single whiff and—presto—they know the ppm count of every airborne molecule as if their noses were calibrated mass spectrometers blessed by Apollo himself.
Back when I worked in operational natural gas trading—back when “energy markets” meant more than zipping and zapping electrons across a screen like a caffeinated teenage gamer—we actually had to deal with physical matter. Real gas. Real pipelines. Real consequences. And with that came the tedious, unglamorous, absolutely necessary ritual of quality testing. You didn’t wave your hands at a model and claim revelation. You drew a sample, sent it to a lab, and waited while actual equipment measured the methane content and the inevitable impurities.
And mind you, this wasn’t some ephemeral trace vapor. This was natural gas with a methane concentration north of 95%. A substance so abundant in hydrocarbons it might as well slap you in the face. Yet even then, determining exact percentages required extraction, instruments, and trained professionals on-site. No mystical nose. No clairvoyant laptop.
But these researchers? They apparently sense ppm values from simulations, as if the ether whispers secrets only they can hear. Astonishing. Or, you know—impossible.And let’s not forget the comic finale: “less than 2 ppm, so it’s not a trace gas.” Right. Argon—a genuine trace gas—sits comfortably at around 10,000 ppm. Two ppm is not “trace,” it’s homeopathic. It’s a theoretical rumor. It’s the gaseous equivalent of a ghost story: entertaining, but don’t pretend it’s something you can smell.