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Part 6

Easy Lessons in Einstein · Edwin E. Slosson — chapter 6 of 20 · ~3,348 words · public domain

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To loosen up our conventional ideas of the fixity of time and space we may accept the aid of the scientific romancers. Camille Flammarion, the famous French astronomer, wrote a fantastic little book called “Lumen” which tells of a man who died in 1864. His soul flew straight to its heaven which was one of the planets of Capella, the largest star in the constellation Auriga. Here he found the benevolent inhabitants of that sphere, who were endowed with superhuman powers of sight, watching with great distress the bloody scenes of the French revolution of 1793, and wondering how it would come out. To the visitor from the earth this was an old story, to the people of Alpha Aurigae it was a present spectacle, for the distance of the star was such that it took light 72 years to travel from the earth, so they were 72 years belated in their observation of current events on our planet.

The spirit of the defunct Parisian, having the power of flying through empty space at any speed he chose, found that he had thereby also acquired control of time and could hasten, retard, stop or reverse the course of events at will by simply varying his speed. If he remained stationary, scenes on the earth would unfold at their normal rate and in regular order. If he traveled away from the earth with the speed of light everything seemed to stand still. If he traveled faster than light he overtook the rays that had left the earth farther and farther back in the past so he saw through them events in the reverse order. For instance when he looked down on Waterloo he saw the battlefield strewn with corpses and Napoleon walking toward Waterloo backward pushing his horse by the bridle. This is how the battle looked to the interspatial observer:

When my sight was sufficiently habituated to the scene, I perceived some soldiers coming to life out of the eternal night, and by a single effort standing up. The dead horses revived like the dead cavaliers, and the latter remounted them. As soon as two or three thousand men had returned to life, I saw them form unconsciously in line of battle. The two armies took their places fronting one another, and began to fight desperately with a fury that one might have taken for despair. As the combat deepened on both sides, the soldiers came to life more rapidly....

At each gap made by the cannon in the serried ranks a group of resuscitated dead filled up the gaps immediately. When the belligerents had spent the whole day in tearing one another to pieces with grape-shot, with cannons and bullets, with bayonets, sabers and swords--when the great battle was over, there was not a single person killed, no one was even wounded; even uniforms that before it were torn and in disorder were in good condition, the men were safe and sound, and the ranks in correct form. The two armies slowly withdrew from one another, as if the heat of the battle and all its fury had no other object than the restoration to life, amid the smoke of the combat, of the two hundred thousand corpses which had lain on the field a few hours before. What an exemplary and desirable battle it was!

Another literary curiosity on the same theme is “Ignis” by Comte Didier de Chousy. This tells of certain engineers who attempted to utilize the internal heat of the earth by running the waters of a lake into a deep boring. The result was an explosion that blew off a piece of the planet. But the passengers on this artificial asteroid on looking down through their well at the earth they had left could see the lake and city undisturbed and watch themselves at work as they were before the place blew up. The explanation was that this fragment of the earth was projected into space more rapidly than the speed of light and so was catching up with the rays that had gone out before the explosion; these rays, of course, carried the picture of earlier scenes. But Einstein would say that this story--as we might ourselves have suspected--must be fiction for according to his theory the speed of light is the absolute limit of motion, the infinity of velocity, which no material body may excel or attain. He does not, however, say anything about the possible speed of a disembodied spirit such as Flammarion employed in his imaginary exploration of space.

THE METAPHYSICS OF THE MOVIES

But from such fantasies we can see that the order in which we view events depends upon how fast and in what direction we are moving and that past and future may be reversed to our vision. This is easily made apparent by means of motion pictures. If the film is reeled off in the wrong direction the action is reversed. So we see divers rising gracefully out of the water and landing on the spring board. Newly hatched chickens, dismayed at the sight of this unfriendly world, calmly tuck themselves back into their broken shells which close in upon them. When we have come to the close of a perfect Thanksgiving Day the obliging operator may give us an encore of the dinner reversed by running his machine backward. Then we see pieces of turkey politely picked out of the mouths of the diners with their forks and replaced upon the plates. When these are passed back to the carver he puts the slices neatly in their places and the fowl is then sent back to the oven to be unroasted. The cook then sticks on the feathers. The hired man carries the turkey out to the chopping block where with one swift stroke he restores the head and the fowl runs off backwards. This is just as correct as the ordinary order. The sequence of events is the same. Cause and effect are linked together as firmly as before, only they have exchanged places. A scientist knowing nothing of our world except from watching such reversed motion pictures might deduce from them the same consistent and logical system of natural laws that we now have although some of them, for instance, the second law of thermo-dynamics, would be reversed in form.

The motion-picture man has also the power to alter the speed of the passage of time as he will by turning the crank faster or slower. Sometimes he is quite too careless in the way he employs this prerogative. If he is behind time on his schedule he will rush through a lazy siesta scene in a Mexican plaza with all the fury of a Mack Sennett farce. But this telescoping of time can be used to advantage as when he shows us the growth of a plant, the unfolding of its flower and the ripening of its fruit, all in fifteen minutes. On the other hand motion may be slowed up by taking twice as many pictures a minute as usual and projecting them at the ordinary rate. For instance, if it is a dog jumping up to grab a piece of meat from his master’s hand, we see the dog rise slowly from the ground and, while poised in mid-air, eye the meat carefully to select the best point of attack, then deliberately take it between his jaws and gradually descend. Now notice that this is just as true a picture of the dog’s jump as any other. The movie man has simply expanded time measurements as he expands space measurements when he shows us a close-up. A close-up with a face covering a sixteen-foot screen is just as true as a smaller picture. It is what we should always see if the lens of our eyes were a bit more convex. We look through the small end of an opera-glass and objects seem magnified. We look through the large end and objects seem minified. This is not an illusion. The opera-glass does actually enlarge or reduce what we see.

So, too, time intervals can be lengthened or shortened. Take a dose of hashish--no, don’t--I should say, if you did take a dose you would find that your perception of duration was prolonged. If while under the influence of the drug you drop a book it will seem an hour getting to the ground. De Quincey describes such experiences in his “Confessions of an Opium Eater.” But without entering into such abnormal states we all know by everyday experience how time flies or lags according to the number of our sensations. Bergson’s philosophy is built upon the distinction between the idea of duration as experienced by all of us and the idea of time as established by the physicists for comparative measurements.

We live in deeds not years; in thoughts not breaths; In feelings not in figures on a dial. --Festus.

For all we know an ephemeral insect that dies in a day may live a longer life than a Galapagos turtle that exists for two centuries.

What Mark Twain said about classical music applies also to science; “It is not so bad as it sounds.” The thing that the chemist calls “sodium chloride” other folks call “salt”--and so does he when he is off duty. Don’t let the scientist bluff you by his polysyllabic propensity. Just try to see what he means by such language. Now what these new-fashioned non-Euclidean geometricians call “the four-dimensional space-time continuum” is essentially the same system of reference as you have used ever since you could toddle. Minkowski did not invent it. Everybody thinks that way unless he is an idiot. Each one of us has had to build up his own philosophy of the universe long before we went to school, mostly before we could talk. We had to study geometry while we were in our cradles--worse than that we had to work out a practical system of geometry for ourselves without the help of Euclid or anyone else. We had to excogitate a system of relationship between the sights and sounds and touches that came to us before we could get along in the world. Probably we all solve this riddle of the universe in about the same way although since there is no way of directly comparing notes we cannot be sure about that.

THE EGOCENTRIC THEORY OF THE UNIVERSE

But the framework that we construct to hold everything outside of ourselves is essentially of the following form:

You are the center of your universe. Everything and every event that you are considering is related to you here and now. Starting from this, your point of place and time, you imagine eight straight lines stretching out toward infinity in eight directions as divergent as possible. These lines--call them destinations or directions or dimensions or coördinates as you please--consist of four opposing pairs, right and left, up and down, forward and back, future and past. Somewhere along or between these four dimensional lines that cross in your brain you can find a place for anything that you need; your pencil, the discovery of America, the sun and next Friday. You can connect up all these things by lines which may represent changes, that is the tracks of movements in space and time. To connect the pencil in your hand with the discovery of America you would have to count back 428 years on the time line and measure off on the east-west and north-south lines whatever distance you may be from San Salvador--not to consider the motion of the earth.

Anything that exists, that is to say, persists, is moving along the time dimension at what appears to be a uniform rate. Of course you can, if you like, conceive of time itself as a stream flowing through things. Since all motion is relative, that way of looking at it is just as “true” as the other. But it is simpler and more sensible to think of things moving through a stationary time just as we think of them moving through a stationary space. A material point that is at rest, such as the dot of an i on this page, (we continue to disregard the motion of the earth) is not moving about in space but is moving forward in time. Its track then is a straight line along the time dimension. That is, a material point is a line in the fourth dimension. If you move the page to the right the forward movement of the dot of the i in the time dimension is combined with the sideways motion in a single slanting line. If you move the page simultaneously upward, rightward and backward the track of the point is a line combining the movement in all four dimensions. Such a track of a point moving through space and time is called its “world-line.” It is a continuity of one dimension. Any event is the point of intersection of one or more such world lines and we can never observe anything except such intersections. That is to say, everything happens somewhere and sometime.

A picture flashed on a cinema screen has three dimensions. It is, say, 10 feet long and 6 feet high and lasts ¹⁄₁₆ of a second, but it has no thickness. A man necessarily has four dimensions. He may measure from 24 to 72 inches in one dimension, from 8 to 18 inches in the second, from 4 to 9 inches in the third and 70 years in the fourth.

After all, the idea of the relativity of time ought to be easier to accept than that of space for it is in accord with experience instead of contrary to it. We drop off to sleep and wake the next instant if we credit our personal perceptions. Why should we believe the sun and the clock in preference to ourselves?

Bergson bases his whole philosophy upon the distinction between duration as it is felt by the individual while he is living through it and time as it is employed by the physicist in his calculations. The latter conception, physical time, is, as Bergson says, a mere invention of man and virtually a fourth dimension of space, so he concludes:

To sum up; every demand for explanation in regard to freedom comes back, without our suspecting it, to the following question: “Can time be adequately represented by space?” To which we answer: Yes, if you are dealing with time flown; No, if you speak of time flowing.

Past and future are alike to the physicist, differing only in direction, like east and west. But to the living person they are altogether different things. For man rolls up his past, as a tourist his rug, and carries it with him wherever he goes. That is why Wells’s “Time Machine” and the reversed reels of the movies are so funny. There is nothing absurd about running a wheel backward but there is about running a man backward. The physicist feels no reluctance about turning the stream of time backward for all physical phenomena are reversible under the proper conditions. If we interpret the universe as merely matter in motion and imagine at a certain instant that every individual particle reverses its motion and goes in just the opposite direction at the same speed, then the whole history of the world would be reënacted in the opposite order and the earth would return to its primeval nebulæ.

In Wells’s story, “The New Accelerator,” a professor invents an elixir that speeds up the rate of living a thousandfold. A person taking a dose of it sees people as wax figures apparently motionless in the midst of violent action. Falling objects seem to stand still in the air. The music of a band is reduced to “a low-pitched, wheezy rattle” or “the slow muffled ticking of some monstrous clock.” But in compensation for this the accelerated drug-fiend could watch at leisure the slow flapping of a bee’s wings.

But even Wells with his seven-league-boots imagination finds it difficult to keep ahead of the march of science. What he then saw only with his mind’s eye we can actually observe. By moving the accelerating lever on your phonograph toward the S end of the scale you can slow up the tune and lower its pitch until it becomes inaudible as music. The new Pathé ultra-rapid camera can take pictures at the rate of 160 to the second. When these are projected on the screen at the usual rate of 16 to the second all movement takes place ten times slower than in actual life. This gives opportunity for the study in detail of the action of a ballplayer pitching a curve or of the wing motion of a humming bird or of the splash of a marble falling into water or of the flight of a bullet. We can magnify motion or minify it as much as we will. The cinematograph owes its origin the desire of Senator Leland Stanford to study the movement of a horse’s legs so as to find out why one racer went faster than another.

Such playful flights of the scientific imagination as Wells and Flammarion indulge in and such freaks of projection as the camera man amuses us with are of use to those of us who find difficulty in translating a mathematical formula into terms of everyday life. There is no better place to study metaphysics than in the world of the flickering screen, for there man has complete control of time and space. He can enlarge and reduce any object. He can hasten, retard or reverse any action. He can throw upon the screen at the same time events happening months and miles apart. Therefore to those of us who have had the advantage of an education in the movies, Einstein’s ideas of the relativity of time and space do not seem startling or inconceivable.

Kant not only conceived the possibility of more than three dimensions but believed in the probability of it. His argument is based on greater insight into the intentions of the Almighty than we of this day would claim:

“If it is possible that there be developments of other dimensions in space, it is also very probable that God has somewhere produced them. For His works have all the grandeur and variety that can possibly be conceived.”

In this temporal, spatial and material world of ours reality requires that the four dimensions should hang together. But at an infinite distance from all matter this fourfold combination would be dissolved into a three-dimensional space and a one-dimensional time. In that extra-mundane realm time ceases to flow, gravitation no longer drags downward, matter is non-existent, light is immovable and change is impossible. Thus the new mathematics leads to a state curiously like the conventional conception of heaven.

We talk as our forefathers did about “the ends of the earth” but we know that one might start from his home and walk forever in any direction without coming to an end of it. But though the earth’s surface is infinite in the sense of endless, yet one never can get more than 8,000 miles away from home where’er he may roam. If a man stood on the top of the highest mountain on earth and aimed a level gun in any direction, the bullet, if it could be given sufficient velocity to counteract the influence of gravity, would go around the world and hit him in the back of the head. Or if light were sufficiently deflected by gravitation to follow a level line around the earth--another absurd assumption--the man looking through a level telescope in any direction could see how his hair was combed in the back. Such happenings, though impossible, are not inconceivable but are logical consequences of our knowledge that the world is round and that what we call straight or level lines as measured on plain or sea are really great circles around a center four thousand miles below.

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