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T h e A S T R O N O M I C O N E s s a y s
XIX.
SPACE/TIME
A Big Misnomer
Fig. 1. The Big Expansion.
SPACE = TIME = MOTION
TIME = MOTION = SPACE
MOTION = SPACE = TIME
It is likely the case that among those laypersons who would claim to have a basic understanding of what is meant by the singular term, space-time, they possess little more than a clue as to what exactly, the combined words refer. Written in one of three ways, all of them correct, the two terms can be expressed as space/time, spacetime, or space-time. The one wrong way is space and time. The reason is based on our understanding of the universe as explained by Einstein and others, which postulates that space cannot exist without time considerations, and likewise time cannot be considered without aspects involving space. The two together are thought of as a continuum which is further defined as a continuous, nonspatial whole in which no part or portion is distinct or distinguishable from adjacent parts. Note how the inadequacy of language forces us to use the word, parts, despite a definition which clearly states that no separate or individual components do or can exist.
As if things weren't confusing enough, the word, space, as in space-time, is not a noun and does not refer to a static void or emptiness, as in empty space. A far better description of space is that of a verb, which is precisely what the word implies.
As if things weren't confusing enough, the word, space, as in space-time, is not a noun and does not refer to a static void or emptiness, as in empty space. A far better description of space is that of a verb, which is precisely what the word implies.
"I have investigated the possibilities of this kind in the last years, but my respective results seem to me not very encouraging. For the time being I have returned to ordinary differential equations [from General Relativity] with dependent variables being simply functions of the four coordinates [space-time]. What the future has in store for us nobody can foretell. It is a question of success."
--- Albert Einstein / May 11, 1945
--- Albert Einstein / May 11, 1945
GOING NOWHERE FAST
In order to demonstrate the basic misunderstanding involved, we needed to go on another one of those imaginary rocket rides into space. There was only three things we took with us and they were all we needed on this particular trip: One watch in good working order; one special speedometer calibrated in miles-per-hour, and an auxillary fuel tank (full) that wasn't used on our initial trip into space, but only after we had arrived at our destination.
As we left Earth orbit and headed for the moon, we checked the speedometer which read 25,000 mph. We called home and checked that our watch still had the same time as Houston. All systems were go as we shot past the moon, got a gravity "kick" in the process and aimed for open, interstellar space. Well, not exactly interstellar, more like interplanetary as we approached a midway point somewhere between Earth and Mars. Boy, it was quiet out there -- and dark.
The time soon came to check our speed and call home. Cruising along at 50,000 mph, it was exactly 3:00PM both in the cabin and in Texas. We weren't going to Mars on this trip, however. We were out there solely to demonstrate a better understanding of this whole space-time business. That's what the extra fuel tank was all about. Sitting on full and ready to be lit-up, as astronauts say. At least I think that's what they say. But I digress.
First we did a little swing-around maneuver and pointed ourselves in the opposite direction we were previously traveling. Ass-end first for the less scientifically erudite in the crowd. We were then looking back at Earth and heading away from it, butt-first, at 50,000 mph. So far so good. Only one more thing to get done: burn that extra fuel we'd been carrying. There was supposed to be just the right amount, give or take.
After a routine ignition, the main engine had burned for several minutes, and our forward speed had dropped from 50,000 mph to 5,000 mph, and we were still slowing down fast. When I checked with Houston, we both had 3:15PM sharp. 2,000 mph and dropping. 500mph, 200, down to 15mph and I prepared to cut the engine in three, two, one...stop. "Houston, the Sparrow has stalled."
My time at the time: 3:17PM Huston time. Speed: zero mph. Dead in the water -- or in this case, dead in space. We had just the right amount of fuel to slow ourselves down, cancel out our previous velocity altogether, and come to a complete and utter stop. Yup, we were just sitting in empy space, not moving an inch closer either to Mars or Earth. AAA was on its way with a tow rocket (a new service they're offering) and a spare tank of gas (fuel).
In the meantime, I was listening to Earth radio which ran at a two-minute delay after being broadcast from the station itself. It took that long for the signal to reach us out there because we were so far away. What's funny, though, is that our watch and the one inside the broadcast studio still shared the same exact time. That's how I knew the signal was reaching me two minutes late. The only snag was that Houston said it would be awhile before AAA could send help. Which didn't make any sense. The rocket wasn't going anywhere; just send AAA the same way we went -- we were just sitting there.
Well, that's when things got a bit dicey. Supposedly all kinds of new calculations were necessary in order for the rescue ship to rendezvous with our ship. Rendezvous?! What was the big deal? Wasn't our ship simply floating dead where it had stopped? We were certainly not moving forward, or backward. The speedometer showed zero mph. So were we moving up or down instead? When did that happen? The small maneuvering jets were never used except to swing us around sideways. So what was going on?
The guy from AAA finally called and said we should look at our speedometer more closely. He was right. Just to the right of the zero on the dial was a small space and another zero. I needed to put on my glasses to read the fine print under the number. Was zero a number? Anyway, the words read, "Absolute Zero". Absolute zero? That's when I finally found out what was really happening around there. Or out there. Or everywhere, I should say. Now they told me. According to Houston, my ship (and me) weren't stopped at all. And the space (no pun intended) between zero and absolute zero on the speedometer was really an indication that we were still moving, and at a pretty good clip at that. Especially since the needle was still stuck on regular zero and making no move towards that other absolute-zero thing, next to it.
Come to find out -- better late than never -- that the only speed we cancelled was a specific trajectory that was tracing a particular course through open space. In actuality, the whole solar system is on its own trajectory through open space, and was taking me and our rocket along with it. Similar, I guess, to how cigar smoke hangs in the air of a closed car that's speeding along the road. Because the air inside the car is traveling at the same speed as the car itself. Crack the window, however, and out goes the smoke -- sucked out by the air that's moving past the car. Or by us moving through air that itself isn't moving at all. Well, you get the idea. It does all get rather confusing the more you muck around with it. But I digress.
So there we were, actually moving at hundreds of thousands of miles-per-hour, out there in the middle of absolute nowhere. No wonder AAA said they had to figure out where I was going-to-be by the time their rescue vehicle would reach me with more fuel. A miscalculation would have meant missing our rendezvous by hundreds of thousands of miles. Who knew?
While I passed the time chatting with Houston, I found out that while the solar system is moving through the Milky Way galaxy on its own trajectory, the Milky Way itself is moving through open space doing its own thing. OMG, this was all getting very...entangling. The only reason why our two watches were unaffected, so the techs in Texas said, was because "time" isn't subject to directions per se. Time only cares about how fast you're moving, and not where you're going. And the difference in velocity between departing Earth and then coming to a stop (sort of) somewhere in space, is so teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, that it was laughable to even mention.
While the techs were laughing, they told me if I had enough fuel still onboard, and the rocket's engines were fast enough to reach a quarter of the speed of light, well...then you'd be talking; then you'd have seen significant discrepancies between Earth time and my space time. Or space-time. Which is what all this has been about from the beginning.
So now you know why space and time can't be separated in the real world, even though we can do so using words. There's simply no such thing as stopped space. Put another way, there's no such thing as being stopped in space. Once the Big Bang set things in motion, everything moving every which way, at every conceivable speed, all bets were off. And when gravity got into the act, where clusters of things started clustering, all of them producing their own Ballroom dances of sorts, there was simply no stopping any of it. Literally.
So the next time you feel the serenity of motionlessness while canoing on a quiet lake, think again. And feel lucky that just thinking about it doesn't send you reeling overboard into the water. Albert Einstein woke up one day and had similar kinds of thoughts. Maybe he was fishing on a lake somewhere. Anyway, now you know the rest of the story. Okay, not entirely, but you're likely light years ahead of where you were before reading this. During which time we probably traveled a million miles going somewhere -- together. Who said science isn't sexy?
As we left Earth orbit and headed for the moon, we checked the speedometer which read 25,000 mph. We called home and checked that our watch still had the same time as Houston. All systems were go as we shot past the moon, got a gravity "kick" in the process and aimed for open, interstellar space. Well, not exactly interstellar, more like interplanetary as we approached a midway point somewhere between Earth and Mars. Boy, it was quiet out there -- and dark.
The time soon came to check our speed and call home. Cruising along at 50,000 mph, it was exactly 3:00PM both in the cabin and in Texas. We weren't going to Mars on this trip, however. We were out there solely to demonstrate a better understanding of this whole space-time business. That's what the extra fuel tank was all about. Sitting on full and ready to be lit-up, as astronauts say. At least I think that's what they say. But I digress.
First we did a little swing-around maneuver and pointed ourselves in the opposite direction we were previously traveling. Ass-end first for the less scientifically erudite in the crowd. We were then looking back at Earth and heading away from it, butt-first, at 50,000 mph. So far so good. Only one more thing to get done: burn that extra fuel we'd been carrying. There was supposed to be just the right amount, give or take.
After a routine ignition, the main engine had burned for several minutes, and our forward speed had dropped from 50,000 mph to 5,000 mph, and we were still slowing down fast. When I checked with Houston, we both had 3:15PM sharp. 2,000 mph and dropping. 500mph, 200, down to 15mph and I prepared to cut the engine in three, two, one...stop. "Houston, the Sparrow has stalled."
My time at the time: 3:17PM Huston time. Speed: zero mph. Dead in the water -- or in this case, dead in space. We had just the right amount of fuel to slow ourselves down, cancel out our previous velocity altogether, and come to a complete and utter stop. Yup, we were just sitting in empy space, not moving an inch closer either to Mars or Earth. AAA was on its way with a tow rocket (a new service they're offering) and a spare tank of gas (fuel).
In the meantime, I was listening to Earth radio which ran at a two-minute delay after being broadcast from the station itself. It took that long for the signal to reach us out there because we were so far away. What's funny, though, is that our watch and the one inside the broadcast studio still shared the same exact time. That's how I knew the signal was reaching me two minutes late. The only snag was that Houston said it would be awhile before AAA could send help. Which didn't make any sense. The rocket wasn't going anywhere; just send AAA the same way we went -- we were just sitting there.
Well, that's when things got a bit dicey. Supposedly all kinds of new calculations were necessary in order for the rescue ship to rendezvous with our ship. Rendezvous?! What was the big deal? Wasn't our ship simply floating dead where it had stopped? We were certainly not moving forward, or backward. The speedometer showed zero mph. So were we moving up or down instead? When did that happen? The small maneuvering jets were never used except to swing us around sideways. So what was going on?
The guy from AAA finally called and said we should look at our speedometer more closely. He was right. Just to the right of the zero on the dial was a small space and another zero. I needed to put on my glasses to read the fine print under the number. Was zero a number? Anyway, the words read, "Absolute Zero". Absolute zero? That's when I finally found out what was really happening around there. Or out there. Or everywhere, I should say. Now they told me. According to Houston, my ship (and me) weren't stopped at all. And the space (no pun intended) between zero and absolute zero on the speedometer was really an indication that we were still moving, and at a pretty good clip at that. Especially since the needle was still stuck on regular zero and making no move towards that other absolute-zero thing, next to it.
Come to find out -- better late than never -- that the only speed we cancelled was a specific trajectory that was tracing a particular course through open space. In actuality, the whole solar system is on its own trajectory through open space, and was taking me and our rocket along with it. Similar, I guess, to how cigar smoke hangs in the air of a closed car that's speeding along the road. Because the air inside the car is traveling at the same speed as the car itself. Crack the window, however, and out goes the smoke -- sucked out by the air that's moving past the car. Or by us moving through air that itself isn't moving at all. Well, you get the idea. It does all get rather confusing the more you muck around with it. But I digress.
So there we were, actually moving at hundreds of thousands of miles-per-hour, out there in the middle of absolute nowhere. No wonder AAA said they had to figure out where I was going-to-be by the time their rescue vehicle would reach me with more fuel. A miscalculation would have meant missing our rendezvous by hundreds of thousands of miles. Who knew?
While I passed the time chatting with Houston, I found out that while the solar system is moving through the Milky Way galaxy on its own trajectory, the Milky Way itself is moving through open space doing its own thing. OMG, this was all getting very...entangling. The only reason why our two watches were unaffected, so the techs in Texas said, was because "time" isn't subject to directions per se. Time only cares about how fast you're moving, and not where you're going. And the difference in velocity between departing Earth and then coming to a stop (sort of) somewhere in space, is so teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, that it was laughable to even mention.
While the techs were laughing, they told me if I had enough fuel still onboard, and the rocket's engines were fast enough to reach a quarter of the speed of light, well...then you'd be talking; then you'd have seen significant discrepancies between Earth time and my space time. Or space-time. Which is what all this has been about from the beginning.
So now you know why space and time can't be separated in the real world, even though we can do so using words. There's simply no such thing as stopped space. Put another way, there's no such thing as being stopped in space. Once the Big Bang set things in motion, everything moving every which way, at every conceivable speed, all bets were off. And when gravity got into the act, where clusters of things started clustering, all of them producing their own Ballroom dances of sorts, there was simply no stopping any of it. Literally.
So the next time you feel the serenity of motionlessness while canoing on a quiet lake, think again. And feel lucky that just thinking about it doesn't send you reeling overboard into the water. Albert Einstein woke up one day and had similar kinds of thoughts. Maybe he was fishing on a lake somewhere. Anyway, now you know the rest of the story. Okay, not entirely, but you're likely light years ahead of where you were before reading this. During which time we probably traveled a million miles going somewhere -- together. Who said science isn't sexy?
Not quite the end of the story . . .
SPACE = TIME = NULL-V
TIME = NULL-V = SPACE
NULL-V = SPACE = TIME
Null-V describes a condition that does not exist, can't exist, and likely never will exist. But it did once. A long time ago. Before the Big Bang. So verboten is the concept that Einstein never even considered it, and most, if not all contemporary scientists, won't discuss it. I know, because I've tried. So sacrosanct (and inviolate) are considered the laws of relativity, which describe motion solely in relationship to all other moving bodies, that the idea of absolute motionlessness -- zero velocity -- or "Null-V" as I call it, appears utterly unimaginable to astrophysicists. Let alone the consequences that might result from such a state. Or likely did at one time. Before time itself existed.
Or has time always existed? Does time exist independently of matter and energy? No one knows the answers to such questions, let alone yours truly. But they are fun to play with as mind games, which is why I don't understand the reluctance, if not abhorrence for such imaginings, by those whose whole lives are spent thinking about such stuff. Everything, it would seem, except for this Null-V business.
So there be no misunderstanding, when I define Null-V as "zero-velocity" as in "absolute-zero-velocity", I refer to a body in a total state of rest. Instead of a condition that can only exist in relationship to all other bodies, such a body sits motionless especially as it compares relativistically to all other objects in the universe. In other words, this baby ain't moving anywhere, anytime soon.
Scientists and everybody else, of course, talk about bodies "at-rest" all the time. Duhhh. One thing is moving while another thing isn't. According to Special Relativity (I think it's the Special one and not General -- I'm somewhat dyslexic when it comes to confusing them) the thing that's moving is only doing so in relationship to the thing that isn't moving. And depending on where you are and how you look at things, we can't necessarily be sure what's moving and what ain't. I get that. We all kinda get that; it's not rocket science. Okay so it is, in a way. But I digress.
In the scenario that interests me, however, we know exactly what's moving and what isn't. Part of the problem, both literally and figuratively, is that such an utterly motionless body isn't possible in the real world. Or the real universe. It can only exist as a thought experiment. And because the only real example that might be imagined is the state of affairs prior to when the Big banged, the question is almost as much philosophical as it is mathematical. That's where I come in. I suck at math, but really enjoy reasoning things out with a bare minimum of adequate information at my disposal. I don't think this case requires much more than that, but I could be wrong.
So what's the big deal in any event? Why should we care, and is such a mind game important? One reason I care is because nobody else seems to. It's not like I've interviewed every scientist in the world and can say with certainty that none of them have ever contemplated the subject in question. For all I know, hundreds of articles have been published on the topic. But I don't think so. I used to watch a lot of science on TV, much of it devoted to origins of the universe, a lot of it on Relativity (both kinds), quantum mechanics, fractals, String and Brane theory, and that whole multiple dimension/multiverse business. After years and years of watching, it finally dawned on me that nobody -- and I mean nobody -- ever asked the simple question of what would happen if...?
Astrophysicists love to think of things moving very fast. The faster the better. All kinds of really cool stuff happens when we put the theoretical pedal to the metal, so to speak, and zoom around the universe. Since everything is already in motion, to one degree or another, it's easy to accelerate (using computer models) and leave the others in our space dust. The new Hadron collider is really good at speeding things up in the real world. That's it's whole purpose, of course. In the strange place I call reality, however, a different kind of Hadron machine is in operation. It does just the opposite of what its cousin is up to. Instead of accelerating elementary particles, my gizmo decelerates them. How wacky is that? Apparently very.
In this case, I'm exaggerating to make a point, because building such a machine seems not only unlikely, but impossible -- even at the theoretical level. We'd have to counteract, cancel, and neutralize every intrinsic movement and motion that a body normally possesses and exhibits. Sort of like reverse-engineering the Big Bang and undoing all motion-related qualities until a state of Null-V was achieved. No easy task by any standard. Even God might have to grapple with this one for a while. No wonder nobody wants anything to do with it.
So much for physical bodies or subatomic particles. I think they're viewing photons recently as both pure energy, meaning no inherent mass per se, versus them being a particle of some sort, with a teeny amount of mass. There's a lot of those weird particle things buzzing about and while I doubt they have much to do with the topic at hand, their existence should be noted, just in case they do. Something to do with a mass-less particle (neutrino?) being able to travel faster than light. Boy, count me out on that lecture. I'll be happy if I can finish my little essay, which may in fact, possess little or no mass.
This brings us to a brief acknowledgement of what space is like when it's just space. No bodies. No particles. Maybe some energy around, but not in a material form such as the existence of matter as we think of it. I think we can agree that the vacuum of space is immaterial and not moving. There is, however, a bunch of this dark matter and dark energy stuff hanging around, apparently in more abundance than light matter and light energy. A lot more. If it's tangible, has some amount of mass to it, the dark stuff is probably moving, swirling, tumbling, not unlike the gaseous clouds that form nebulas and other gassy things. In theory, all of it got blasted into totally empty space by the Big Bang, and has been spinning and swishing about ever since. This again works out good for me, though, because I'm not interested in the stuff that's in motion. Not even a little. I'll leave that to the real scientists who know a lot more about what they're doing than I do. Although I think I've got a slight edge on this static universe affair. But only because I've been obsessed with it for a long time. And speaking of time...
Time is my all-time favorite topic. I've probably spent more time thinking about time than anything else. Part of my motivation in doing so stems from the fact that so little is known about the subject, and the whole business is pretty much up for grabs, even by quasi-illiterate types who like to swim in the deep end of the pool, so to speak. I don't delve into the same kind of time as everybody else, however. Similar to the question of whether a falling tree makes noise as it falls unwitnessed to the forest floor, we can ask whether time exists in a pure vacuum -- if there's no matter, and presumably just some form of energy we've yet to understand. In other words, the state of the universe prior to the Big Bang.
In the absence of all matter and likewise a motionless void (beyond that of vibrating energy?) does time exist? I think we can make a guess, and a pretty good one at that. Here's why I say this with almost an air of confidence. Almost. We already know what happens to time when things move faster. If we artificially propel an object, such as placing it into Earth orbit, it's a proven fact that time slows down for that object, relative to an earth-based clock. The difference is slight, but still significant. Especially because it suggests that on even larger scales, involving much greater velocities, time grows slovenly, if not downright sloth-like. Speaking of scales, the smallest of things also, like neutrinos for instance, move at or near the speed of light and compared to earthbound norms, time for them is a whole different bag. But again, this heavy velocity stuff is not my bag. I'm not even barely qualified to comment on speeders. Put me behind one of those slow drivers, however, and I've got a lot to say. The slower the better.
So what is happening with respect to time and a pre-Bang cosmos, while other forces are obviously at work coming together, growing hotter and hotter, ever condensing and compressing. And what was God up to even before these other forces and activities began merging into place? Well, as Dr. Newton liked to say, for every action, there's an equal but opposite reaction. Or something to that effect. Borrowing the quote as a playful guide, let's suppose that since time tends to slow in the presence of high velocities, that it does just the opposite in the presence of lesser motions, or in the absence of motion altogether.
For those interested, I define time (late in coming, I know) as the interval or increment of elapsation between one moment and the next. Between the tick and the tock of a timepiece, between one event and the next. Almost like Planck units, moments constantly slip from the present into the past, replaced by future moments or events which move into the present. A ceaseless cycle that can only be sped up or slowed down, but like other forms of energy, can neither be created nor destroyed. The intervals or increments that subsist among future, present, and past, are what conscious entities recognize as the passage or flow of time. Additionally, most scientists agree that time has an arrow -- a direction. And that this arrow moves from the future into the present into the past. Okay, all well and good, everybody's friends, but we still haven't described what time it is (on our cosmological clock) -- whether it's one hour or one quadrillion years before the Big Bang does its thing.
Here's a silly joke. See if you like it. Or even get it. Which won't be your fault if you don't. Sometime before the Big Bang, two exotic particles are standing around waiting for things to happen. One turns to other and asks, "What time do you have?" The other particle looks at his watch and replies, "Hmmm, that's strange; my watch is stopped. Broken, I think. The hands are missing. Yours, too?" They both then shrug their shoulders and go back to whatever they were doing before one got curious about what time it was.
I didn't say it was a funny joke. Little did the two particles know, the hands on their watches weren't missing at all. They were simply spinning so fast that they appeared to form a solid face or disappear entirely. In actuality, the hands were twirling infinitely fast. Try this on for size if you're still with me: As a body approaches the speed of light, time slows progressively. Were a body to achieve the same speed as light, time would stop completely. Theoretically. Time would simply tick infinitely slow. Tick would simply never reach tock, in a manner of speaking.
Likewise if a body were to reduce its intrinsic motion, time would speed up accordingly. Were a body to come to a complete rest, achieve my Null-V condition of absolute zero-velocity, time would, for that body, elapse infinitely fast. Within an entire pre-Big-Bang universe which was -- for all intents and purposes -- a motionless continuum, time elapsed infinitely fast. Or close to it. The ramifications of such a state are both profound and immensely fascinating.
Things get real interesting once you consider what happens when the rate, flow, or ticking-of-time, transpires infinitely fast (ticktock, if you will). Which should be the case within a continuum of absolute motionlessness. An example of the bizarre nature of such a universe is the realization of how there is no such thing as a beginning moment when anything began. No matter how far back you go in time, were it possible to rewind-the-tape, so to speak, it will always be the present. There is no such thing as past. Or future. Likewise, fast-forward the tape and it will be -- and always will be -- the present. Whether it's time or anything else, something moving infinitely fast travels from a point infinitely in the past, to a point infinitely in the future, in the span of a single, instantaneous moment. Unless an intervention of some kind, takes place and interrupts the stream-of-time. Something like the Big Bang. Thus to ask when the Big Bang happened, or what was going on before, are relatively meaningless questions.
The amount of time which elapsed prior to the Big Bang was absolute zero. Not one minute, nor one nanosecond, nada, zip, zero. Only when motion was introduced into a motionless continuum did time slow sufficiently so as to exist as something measurable.
If time ticking infinitely fast is the same or similar to no time at all, this ought to sound vaguely familiar. Zero elapsation of time is precisely what we find at the speed of light. Where time essentially comes to a stop at such a velocity -- presumably the maximum limit on velocity itself. And this is, of course, the exact opposite of absolute motionlessness, or null-v. It's as if we've traveled full circle, from infinite speed to absolute rest, from one to other, where the concept of time in either case, is indistinguishable one from the other. Talk about the presumed connectedness of the cosmos.
Well, there you have it, in a nutshell (or an electron shell). Although time is shrouded in mystery and intrigue, the foregoing material has cracked the shell, I believe. We've put a fissure in the otherwise impenetrable barrier to our understanding of the true nature of time. Not appreciated or evaluated enough, it seems to me, is the relationship of time to concepts of deceleration and motionlessness. As well as the near omniscient, practically worshiped, almighty speed-of-light. Both of which may ultimately be so closely interwoven when a final theory of unification is formalized, that each is a mirror reflection of the other. Where each may be simply different versions of the same force or energy.
And if this is true, which certainly feels right, then our approach to worm-holes, lengthy intra and inter-galactic journeys and the like may be less problematic -- and far more fruitful and friendly -- than previously imagined. In any event, one should take from all of this many more questions than answers. I don't think there are any answers here. But whoever is in charge of things cosmologically, making sure all the clocks are wound and correct, might be getting a tad nervous. The reason being that asking the right questions are always the equal, if not more so, to discovering solutions and results. The best questions, however, reveal to us not only the closely guarded secrets of the universe, but of the very nature of existence itself.
Or has time always existed? Does time exist independently of matter and energy? No one knows the answers to such questions, let alone yours truly. But they are fun to play with as mind games, which is why I don't understand the reluctance, if not abhorrence for such imaginings, by those whose whole lives are spent thinking about such stuff. Everything, it would seem, except for this Null-V business.
So there be no misunderstanding, when I define Null-V as "zero-velocity" as in "absolute-zero-velocity", I refer to a body in a total state of rest. Instead of a condition that can only exist in relationship to all other bodies, such a body sits motionless especially as it compares relativistically to all other objects in the universe. In other words, this baby ain't moving anywhere, anytime soon.
Scientists and everybody else, of course, talk about bodies "at-rest" all the time. Duhhh. One thing is moving while another thing isn't. According to Special Relativity (I think it's the Special one and not General -- I'm somewhat dyslexic when it comes to confusing them) the thing that's moving is only doing so in relationship to the thing that isn't moving. And depending on where you are and how you look at things, we can't necessarily be sure what's moving and what ain't. I get that. We all kinda get that; it's not rocket science. Okay so it is, in a way. But I digress.
In the scenario that interests me, however, we know exactly what's moving and what isn't. Part of the problem, both literally and figuratively, is that such an utterly motionless body isn't possible in the real world. Or the real universe. It can only exist as a thought experiment. And because the only real example that might be imagined is the state of affairs prior to when the Big banged, the question is almost as much philosophical as it is mathematical. That's where I come in. I suck at math, but really enjoy reasoning things out with a bare minimum of adequate information at my disposal. I don't think this case requires much more than that, but I could be wrong.
So what's the big deal in any event? Why should we care, and is such a mind game important? One reason I care is because nobody else seems to. It's not like I've interviewed every scientist in the world and can say with certainty that none of them have ever contemplated the subject in question. For all I know, hundreds of articles have been published on the topic. But I don't think so. I used to watch a lot of science on TV, much of it devoted to origins of the universe, a lot of it on Relativity (both kinds), quantum mechanics, fractals, String and Brane theory, and that whole multiple dimension/multiverse business. After years and years of watching, it finally dawned on me that nobody -- and I mean nobody -- ever asked the simple question of what would happen if...?
Astrophysicists love to think of things moving very fast. The faster the better. All kinds of really cool stuff happens when we put the theoretical pedal to the metal, so to speak, and zoom around the universe. Since everything is already in motion, to one degree or another, it's easy to accelerate (using computer models) and leave the others in our space dust. The new Hadron collider is really good at speeding things up in the real world. That's it's whole purpose, of course. In the strange place I call reality, however, a different kind of Hadron machine is in operation. It does just the opposite of what its cousin is up to. Instead of accelerating elementary particles, my gizmo decelerates them. How wacky is that? Apparently very.
In this case, I'm exaggerating to make a point, because building such a machine seems not only unlikely, but impossible -- even at the theoretical level. We'd have to counteract, cancel, and neutralize every intrinsic movement and motion that a body normally possesses and exhibits. Sort of like reverse-engineering the Big Bang and undoing all motion-related qualities until a state of Null-V was achieved. No easy task by any standard. Even God might have to grapple with this one for a while. No wonder nobody wants anything to do with it.
So much for physical bodies or subatomic particles. I think they're viewing photons recently as both pure energy, meaning no inherent mass per se, versus them being a particle of some sort, with a teeny amount of mass. There's a lot of those weird particle things buzzing about and while I doubt they have much to do with the topic at hand, their existence should be noted, just in case they do. Something to do with a mass-less particle (neutrino?) being able to travel faster than light. Boy, count me out on that lecture. I'll be happy if I can finish my little essay, which may in fact, possess little or no mass.
This brings us to a brief acknowledgement of what space is like when it's just space. No bodies. No particles. Maybe some energy around, but not in a material form such as the existence of matter as we think of it. I think we can agree that the vacuum of space is immaterial and not moving. There is, however, a bunch of this dark matter and dark energy stuff hanging around, apparently in more abundance than light matter and light energy. A lot more. If it's tangible, has some amount of mass to it, the dark stuff is probably moving, swirling, tumbling, not unlike the gaseous clouds that form nebulas and other gassy things. In theory, all of it got blasted into totally empty space by the Big Bang, and has been spinning and swishing about ever since. This again works out good for me, though, because I'm not interested in the stuff that's in motion. Not even a little. I'll leave that to the real scientists who know a lot more about what they're doing than I do. Although I think I've got a slight edge on this static universe affair. But only because I've been obsessed with it for a long time. And speaking of time...
Time is my all-time favorite topic. I've probably spent more time thinking about time than anything else. Part of my motivation in doing so stems from the fact that so little is known about the subject, and the whole business is pretty much up for grabs, even by quasi-illiterate types who like to swim in the deep end of the pool, so to speak. I don't delve into the same kind of time as everybody else, however. Similar to the question of whether a falling tree makes noise as it falls unwitnessed to the forest floor, we can ask whether time exists in a pure vacuum -- if there's no matter, and presumably just some form of energy we've yet to understand. In other words, the state of the universe prior to the Big Bang.
In the absence of all matter and likewise a motionless void (beyond that of vibrating energy?) does time exist? I think we can make a guess, and a pretty good one at that. Here's why I say this with almost an air of confidence. Almost. We already know what happens to time when things move faster. If we artificially propel an object, such as placing it into Earth orbit, it's a proven fact that time slows down for that object, relative to an earth-based clock. The difference is slight, but still significant. Especially because it suggests that on even larger scales, involving much greater velocities, time grows slovenly, if not downright sloth-like. Speaking of scales, the smallest of things also, like neutrinos for instance, move at or near the speed of light and compared to earthbound norms, time for them is a whole different bag. But again, this heavy velocity stuff is not my bag. I'm not even barely qualified to comment on speeders. Put me behind one of those slow drivers, however, and I've got a lot to say. The slower the better.
So what is happening with respect to time and a pre-Bang cosmos, while other forces are obviously at work coming together, growing hotter and hotter, ever condensing and compressing. And what was God up to even before these other forces and activities began merging into place? Well, as Dr. Newton liked to say, for every action, there's an equal but opposite reaction. Or something to that effect. Borrowing the quote as a playful guide, let's suppose that since time tends to slow in the presence of high velocities, that it does just the opposite in the presence of lesser motions, or in the absence of motion altogether.
For those interested, I define time (late in coming, I know) as the interval or increment of elapsation between one moment and the next. Between the tick and the tock of a timepiece, between one event and the next. Almost like Planck units, moments constantly slip from the present into the past, replaced by future moments or events which move into the present. A ceaseless cycle that can only be sped up or slowed down, but like other forms of energy, can neither be created nor destroyed. The intervals or increments that subsist among future, present, and past, are what conscious entities recognize as the passage or flow of time. Additionally, most scientists agree that time has an arrow -- a direction. And that this arrow moves from the future into the present into the past. Okay, all well and good, everybody's friends, but we still haven't described what time it is (on our cosmological clock) -- whether it's one hour or one quadrillion years before the Big Bang does its thing.
Here's a silly joke. See if you like it. Or even get it. Which won't be your fault if you don't. Sometime before the Big Bang, two exotic particles are standing around waiting for things to happen. One turns to other and asks, "What time do you have?" The other particle looks at his watch and replies, "Hmmm, that's strange; my watch is stopped. Broken, I think. The hands are missing. Yours, too?" They both then shrug their shoulders and go back to whatever they were doing before one got curious about what time it was.
I didn't say it was a funny joke. Little did the two particles know, the hands on their watches weren't missing at all. They were simply spinning so fast that they appeared to form a solid face or disappear entirely. In actuality, the hands were twirling infinitely fast. Try this on for size if you're still with me: As a body approaches the speed of light, time slows progressively. Were a body to achieve the same speed as light, time would stop completely. Theoretically. Time would simply tick infinitely slow. Tick would simply never reach tock, in a manner of speaking.
Likewise if a body were to reduce its intrinsic motion, time would speed up accordingly. Were a body to come to a complete rest, achieve my Null-V condition of absolute zero-velocity, time would, for that body, elapse infinitely fast. Within an entire pre-Big-Bang universe which was -- for all intents and purposes -- a motionless continuum, time elapsed infinitely fast. Or close to it. The ramifications of such a state are both profound and immensely fascinating.
Things get real interesting once you consider what happens when the rate, flow, or ticking-of-time, transpires infinitely fast (ticktock, if you will). Which should be the case within a continuum of absolute motionlessness. An example of the bizarre nature of such a universe is the realization of how there is no such thing as a beginning moment when anything began. No matter how far back you go in time, were it possible to rewind-the-tape, so to speak, it will always be the present. There is no such thing as past. Or future. Likewise, fast-forward the tape and it will be -- and always will be -- the present. Whether it's time or anything else, something moving infinitely fast travels from a point infinitely in the past, to a point infinitely in the future, in the span of a single, instantaneous moment. Unless an intervention of some kind, takes place and interrupts the stream-of-time. Something like the Big Bang. Thus to ask when the Big Bang happened, or what was going on before, are relatively meaningless questions.
The amount of time which elapsed prior to the Big Bang was absolute zero. Not one minute, nor one nanosecond, nada, zip, zero. Only when motion was introduced into a motionless continuum did time slow sufficiently so as to exist as something measurable.
If time ticking infinitely fast is the same or similar to no time at all, this ought to sound vaguely familiar. Zero elapsation of time is precisely what we find at the speed of light. Where time essentially comes to a stop at such a velocity -- presumably the maximum limit on velocity itself. And this is, of course, the exact opposite of absolute motionlessness, or null-v. It's as if we've traveled full circle, from infinite speed to absolute rest, from one to other, where the concept of time in either case, is indistinguishable one from the other. Talk about the presumed connectedness of the cosmos.
Well, there you have it, in a nutshell (or an electron shell). Although time is shrouded in mystery and intrigue, the foregoing material has cracked the shell, I believe. We've put a fissure in the otherwise impenetrable barrier to our understanding of the true nature of time. Not appreciated or evaluated enough, it seems to me, is the relationship of time to concepts of deceleration and motionlessness. As well as the near omniscient, practically worshiped, almighty speed-of-light. Both of which may ultimately be so closely interwoven when a final theory of unification is formalized, that each is a mirror reflection of the other. Where each may be simply different versions of the same force or energy.
And if this is true, which certainly feels right, then our approach to worm-holes, lengthy intra and inter-galactic journeys and the like may be less problematic -- and far more fruitful and friendly -- than previously imagined. In any event, one should take from all of this many more questions than answers. I don't think there are any answers here. But whoever is in charge of things cosmologically, making sure all the clocks are wound and correct, might be getting a tad nervous. The reason being that asking the right questions are always the equal, if not more so, to discovering solutions and results. The best questions, however, reveal to us not only the closely guarded secrets of the universe, but of the very nature of existence itself.
God may not play dice with the universe,
But He might be up for shooting some pool.
Fig. 2.
XX.
Those Photo-Phinishing PHOTONS
Fig. 3. The "blue-shift" as visible light comes toward us.
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Fig. 4. The "red-shift" as visible light moves away from us.
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Particles? Or the transfer of energy in the form of waves?
T H E D O M I N O E F F E C T
If, for the sake of argument, photons might be likened to dominoes, we can gain an interesting perspective as to the quixotic nature of these pheisty little phellows. Okay, enough with the play on words. But not nearly enough said about the role of photons in the universe, and their peculiar relationship to the speed of light itself. Or in this case, to the speed of photons themselves.
Fig. 5. Credit: nasa.gov
Photon:
1. A quantum of electromagnetic radiation;
2. An elementary particle that is its own antiparticle.
1. A quantum of electromagnetic radiation;
2. An elementary particle that is its own antiparticle.
Well, why didn't I look this up before? Writing about photons seems hardly worth the effort now that I know the definition. But I'll give it a go, just the same. Just for those who still don't quite get it. Like me.
To begin, not only are photons the most important of the elementary quanta (tiny bits) in physics, but by their very nature, they likely hold the key, I believe, to understanding everything there is.
Just as in the question about whether a tree falling in the forest makes any noise if no one is there to hear it, an even more mysterious query ponders whether the universe itself might truly exist in the absence of all "light". In physics, light is further defined as "...electromagnetic radiation that produces a visual sensation." It's important to recognize that the term visual refers to the entire spectrum of light, from ultraviolet to infrared. All light is visual, meaning that, via the appropriate mechanism, no part of the electromagnetic spectra of light is invisible. Human eyes are limited by their inherent physical structure, to the perception of a relatively narrow field of view with respect to the otherwise visible spectrum.
So that gets some of the basics out of the way. As is also true for so many of these kinds of discussions, it's best to start at the very beginning which means, of course, the Big Bang.
Scientists presume, based on current research, that when the Big first banged, that a lot of light was produced, in one form or another. Like the flash of a camera, only a lot brighter. Okay so far. Physicists further presume that shortly after the Bang, things went dark again. For about 200 million years or so. So they say. After that, as matter coalesced and clumped together, the first stars turned on, producing a universe (one much smaller than what exists today) filled with an ever growing number of incandescent bulbs, so to speak. The rest, as they say, is prehistory.
This now concludes our discussion of anything other than photons. Which, if I'm correct, means that we now proceed without excluding anything.
To begin, not only are photons the most important of the elementary quanta (tiny bits) in physics, but by their very nature, they likely hold the key, I believe, to understanding everything there is.
Just as in the question about whether a tree falling in the forest makes any noise if no one is there to hear it, an even more mysterious query ponders whether the universe itself might truly exist in the absence of all "light". In physics, light is further defined as "...electromagnetic radiation that produces a visual sensation." It's important to recognize that the term visual refers to the entire spectrum of light, from ultraviolet to infrared. All light is visual, meaning that, via the appropriate mechanism, no part of the electromagnetic spectra of light is invisible. Human eyes are limited by their inherent physical structure, to the perception of a relatively narrow field of view with respect to the otherwise visible spectrum.
So that gets some of the basics out of the way. As is also true for so many of these kinds of discussions, it's best to start at the very beginning which means, of course, the Big Bang.
Scientists presume, based on current research, that when the Big first banged, that a lot of light was produced, in one form or another. Like the flash of a camera, only a lot brighter. Okay so far. Physicists further presume that shortly after the Bang, things went dark again. For about 200 million years or so. So they say. After that, as matter coalesced and clumped together, the first stars turned on, producing a universe (one much smaller than what exists today) filled with an ever growing number of incandescent bulbs, so to speak. The rest, as they say, is prehistory.
This now concludes our discussion of anything other than photons. Which, if I'm correct, means that we now proceed without excluding anything.
The Displacement Effect
Fig. 6. Credit: nasa.gov
Astronomers like to tell us that when we look up into the nighttime sky, all of the stars we see are illusory. They are false-to-fact, as the saying goes. This is certainly true with respect to location. So what's going on? The answer is that even though light, meaning photons, travel really fast, like 186,000 mps (miles-per-second) it still takes photons awhile to cross vast distances. Even to our moon, it takes a little over one second for light to get there. And vice versa. The light from the sun, as most people know, takes about eight-and-a-half minutes to reach us. The light from an erupting solar flare, by the time we see it, happened eight-and-a-half minutes earlier. No big deal, right? Well, it is a big deal when a star is 98 trillion miles away from us, instead of our sun's measly 98 million.
What this means, in real time, is that all the stars in the sky are so far away, that by the time the light from any one of them reaches us, so much time has elapsed -- in the meantime -- that the star itself has moved on, which is also something that all things do. Which is move through the cosmos on some kind of interstellar trajectory.
Thus the pinpoint of twinkling light that we see is where the star used to be, either four years ago, or four billion years ago, depending on its distance from us in terms of what are called light-years, or the distance that light travels in one year. Used as a means of cosmological measurement -- a ruler of sorts -- light years give us some idea of how far away from Earth something is. The nearest star, for example, is a mere four-and-a-half light years from us. In order to know how far that is, in miles, one need only multiply the number of seconds in one year's time, by the aforementioned 186,000 mps. I'm too lazy to look up the answer, so if you want to know, Google it, as they say. Otherwise, suffice it to say that a single light year represents a fairly large chunk of crow flight. If you don't know what I mean by "crow flight, as in, "as the crow flies", you should Google that, also.
Now imagine that some stars (and galaxies) are billions of light years away from us. Some, in fact, are so far away that the light from them has yet to even reach us. This suddenly got kind of confusing if you've been following along, so we should retrace our steps a bit.
I believe the "visible" universe, as it's known, is about 13 billion-years-old, give or take a thousand-million here or there. That means, among other things, that the Big banged about that same amount of time ago. There's still an amount of the universe that remains invisible, or older yet, and it may reflect the limitations of our detection equipment, such as telescopes, as much as it is a matter of the light not yet having reached us.
I've always wondered how, if we all started out together as a pre-Big-Bang something or other that was smaller than an atom, how it happens that there is anything whose light has yet to get to us. I understand, however, that because the universe went dark for a couple hundred million years, that things got away from us, speaking both literally and figuratively.
By now, you might be wondering what's up with the two images of dominoes at the top of the page. Or not. Okay, so virtually no one cares why there are dominoes, let alone blue ones and red ones. We should break for a moment and let me tell you the reason. It's also a good chance for you to make your own break and click on something, anything, that will take you light years from this particular essay.
Be that as it may, scientists long ago discovered that objects in the far distant universe possessed values of light in their spectrums that when analyzed a certain way, were shifted either towards the ultraviolet side of things, or the infrared. The light was off-center, so to speak, and not exactly where it should be on the spectrum analyzer. Which is about as technical as it's going to get, so don't panic. Suffice it to say that objects moving towards us, give off light that is shifted towards the blue end of the scale. Likewise, objects whooshing away from us appear (an unnatural) reddish in color.
With specific regard to the red-shift, as it's called, the greater the off-set -- the more red something is when photographed -- the farther away it is, as it continues to move ever farther and farther away. This is how we know the universe is expanding. Further, this is how we know that all the stars and galaxies are not only moving away from us, but moving away from each other, all at the same time. The common model is that of an expanding balloon, where everything is located somewhere along the exterior surface of this increasingly larger "shell". An explosion whereby the debris all moves outward from the original center in a relatively thin, somewhat uniform "layer". Things then gets all clumpy and complicated, so we won't go there. Instead, let's return to the original stars of this little essay that reminds us of how it's the little things that count.
Regardless of the technical minutia involved, what's truly amazing, of course, is that photons of light are capable of traveling for billions of years over incalculable distances, and just never seem to fade, decay, or otherwise give up. In theory, photons seem able to travel near infinite distances, for near infinite periods of time. If nothing else, we can't help but wonder what in the world (and the universe) are we even dealing with? Which brings us to the question of whether photons are things at all? A photon may be as illusory in nature, as are the erroneous locations of stars seen in that nighttime sky.
The question among physicists is currently whether photons are particles of some sort, or waves of electromagnetic energy, meaning they are something other than physical in structure. We usually think in terms of things being one or the other. Either an actual piece of matter, or purely a force of some kind -- energy, for instance. We know what it is, but also recognize its lack of any real substance. Photons appear to pack a lot of energy, but do they possess any real substance?
What this means, in real time, is that all the stars in the sky are so far away, that by the time the light from any one of them reaches us, so much time has elapsed -- in the meantime -- that the star itself has moved on, which is also something that all things do. Which is move through the cosmos on some kind of interstellar trajectory.
Thus the pinpoint of twinkling light that we see is where the star used to be, either four years ago, or four billion years ago, depending on its distance from us in terms of what are called light-years, or the distance that light travels in one year. Used as a means of cosmological measurement -- a ruler of sorts -- light years give us some idea of how far away from Earth something is. The nearest star, for example, is a mere four-and-a-half light years from us. In order to know how far that is, in miles, one need only multiply the number of seconds in one year's time, by the aforementioned 186,000 mps. I'm too lazy to look up the answer, so if you want to know, Google it, as they say. Otherwise, suffice it to say that a single light year represents a fairly large chunk of crow flight. If you don't know what I mean by "crow flight, as in, "as the crow flies", you should Google that, also.
Now imagine that some stars (and galaxies) are billions of light years away from us. Some, in fact, are so far away that the light from them has yet to even reach us. This suddenly got kind of confusing if you've been following along, so we should retrace our steps a bit.
I believe the "visible" universe, as it's known, is about 13 billion-years-old, give or take a thousand-million here or there. That means, among other things, that the Big banged about that same amount of time ago. There's still an amount of the universe that remains invisible, or older yet, and it may reflect the limitations of our detection equipment, such as telescopes, as much as it is a matter of the light not yet having reached us.
I've always wondered how, if we all started out together as a pre-Big-Bang something or other that was smaller than an atom, how it happens that there is anything whose light has yet to get to us. I understand, however, that because the universe went dark for a couple hundred million years, that things got away from us, speaking both literally and figuratively.
By now, you might be wondering what's up with the two images of dominoes at the top of the page. Or not. Okay, so virtually no one cares why there are dominoes, let alone blue ones and red ones. We should break for a moment and let me tell you the reason. It's also a good chance for you to make your own break and click on something, anything, that will take you light years from this particular essay.
Be that as it may, scientists long ago discovered that objects in the far distant universe possessed values of light in their spectrums that when analyzed a certain way, were shifted either towards the ultraviolet side of things, or the infrared. The light was off-center, so to speak, and not exactly where it should be on the spectrum analyzer. Which is about as technical as it's going to get, so don't panic. Suffice it to say that objects moving towards us, give off light that is shifted towards the blue end of the scale. Likewise, objects whooshing away from us appear (an unnatural) reddish in color.
With specific regard to the red-shift, as it's called, the greater the off-set -- the more red something is when photographed -- the farther away it is, as it continues to move ever farther and farther away. This is how we know the universe is expanding. Further, this is how we know that all the stars and galaxies are not only moving away from us, but moving away from each other, all at the same time. The common model is that of an expanding balloon, where everything is located somewhere along the exterior surface of this increasingly larger "shell". An explosion whereby the debris all moves outward from the original center in a relatively thin, somewhat uniform "layer". Things then gets all clumpy and complicated, so we won't go there. Instead, let's return to the original stars of this little essay that reminds us of how it's the little things that count.
Regardless of the technical minutia involved, what's truly amazing, of course, is that photons of light are capable of traveling for billions of years over incalculable distances, and just never seem to fade, decay, or otherwise give up. In theory, photons seem able to travel near infinite distances, for near infinite periods of time. If nothing else, we can't help but wonder what in the world (and the universe) are we even dealing with? Which brings us to the question of whether photons are things at all? A photon may be as illusory in nature, as are the erroneous locations of stars seen in that nighttime sky.
The question among physicists is currently whether photons are particles of some sort, or waves of electromagnetic energy, meaning they are something other than physical in structure. We usually think in terms of things being one or the other. Either an actual piece of matter, or purely a force of some kind -- energy, for instance. We know what it is, but also recognize its lack of any real substance. Photons appear to pack a lot of energy, but do they possess any real substance?
The Dark Twins of Matter and Energy
Fig. 7. Credit: disneyresearch.com
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Fig. 8. Credit: thethirdvoid.com
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"If the cosmos is indeed an essentially empty void, the sub-atomic properties of something like a photon should likely be necessarily different from those qualities needed to operate in a more fluidic continuum filled with both Dark Matter and Dark Energy."
Speaking of substance -- and substances -- no dialogue about photons is possible without interjecting a couple of other, increasingly poignant elements which appear to play a significant role in the scheme of things. Namely, Dark Energy and Dark Matter. It may well be the case that each is a reflection of the other. By this it is meant that Dark Energy, a strong but immaterial force, is the result of, and related to, Dark Matter -- the more material, but still totally invisible member of the pair.
We typically think of the cosmos as being a vacuum, within which exist pieces and particles of matter, all of which possess mass to one degree or another. Forces of energy also occupy the universe, but all of these are inseparable from the sub-atomic worlds that spawn them. Essentially, we're still left with a lot of big, empty space, and lots of cosmological flotsam and jetsam. At least that's what we used to think. Until the duo of Dark Energy and Matter showed their ugly faces.
I say ugly, because the two together, both Dark Energy and Dark Matter, have changed the face of the cosmos, and not always for the better. Meaning they've spoiled the stew, messed with the broth where scientists were finally beginning to see light at the end of the cooking pot -- when things went dark again. One of the more interesting -- if not troubling -- ramifications or consequences of Dark Energy and Matter is the recent determination that instead of slowing down as the universe expands, it is, in fact, speeding up. Such a concept is completely counterintuitive as to the lasting effects of the Big Bang and all it portends.
Up until recently, a certain amount of uncertainty still existed as to whether the material universe might cease its expansion and, due to the gravitational effects of all the combined matter in the cosmos, would either slow, eventually stop, then reverse course and collapse back into a Big Crunch -- or, in the absence of a sufficient amount of both matter and gravity, would continue to expand ever outward, presumably forever. Even then, nuclear decay should ultimately result in a cemetery-like universe whose headstones and caskets lay at near-infinite distances from one another.
Enter the existence of Dark Matter and Energy, and not only does the cosmos never stop expanding and fall back into itself, but things begin to exceed the speed of light; once that happens, it's anyone's guess as to what happens next. It's likely that no one will be around to take any pictures by the time things get really weird, but it is fun to speculate, nonetheless, about the nature of the universe in, say, another ten to twenty billion years from now. If I propose how the people of that time will all be taking ballet lessons, you'd be hard pressed to prove me wrong. Depending on which ballet it might be. But I digress.
As I was saying, not only is the expansion of the universe accelerating, but it is now believed that at the outer fringes of the visible universe, stars and galaxies are traveling near the speed of light itself -- with no sign of slowing down. That and a few other details are rewriting the books on what we believe is going on. For now, we think that via the forces of Dark Energy, combined in some presently unfathomable way with Dark Matter, that all ordinary mass in the universe is being "pushed" away from itself, with ever increasing velocities. This is again similar to a metaphor in which dominoes are used to explain things such that even I can understand them.
Additionally, the idea that the universe is largely a vacuum is also being rethought. The cosmos may, in fact, be the farthest thing from a vacuum, at least in terms of how we normally define empty space. One notion of Dark Matter presumes that regardless of what it is, the bulk of it occupies every bit of space not occupied by more orthodox, visible matter. As much as 27% of all the matter in the universe is now thought to be of the dark variety.
If we consider the equally startling notion that 90% of all the matter in the universe is unaccounted for -- matter that ought to be there but is somehow missing -- the concept of Dark Matter literally explodes with sudden relevancy. And given the inconceivable amount of material that Dark Matter potentially represents, it seems highly likely that a powerful force would accompany, or be produced by such an overwhelming, quantitative magnitude.
A really good metaphor for the condition of the universe as described, would be an aquarium. We certainly don't think of the contents of an aquarium as being a vacuum. But humans are no more well suited to survive in water than they are in an actual vacuum, so it's a place for us to start. It's as though the universe were suddenly filled with water which then occupied every bit of unoccupied space. It makes little difference, in a philosophical sense, whether we live in an ocean of water, or empty space, but it becomes extremely critical in terms of the science involved.
More and more, it appears that the cosmos is the equivalent of a gigantic ocean, rather than some empty, hollow, dull and uninteresting vacuum. Dark Matter, however, compared to the resistive force of actual water, seems just the opposite; it appears to have little or no impact on regular matter moving through it. Given the increasing speed of the expanding universe, however, this observation may be both misleading and naive.
One set of questions are immediately obvious, and deserve being raised without any further ado. Or adon't. The first is whether or not such a thing as a true vacuum even exists. Secondly, how would such a state, if created, differ from the otherwise far-from-empty space that surrounds it? Third, it is now reasonable to assume that photons travel through an immensity of Dark Matter and Energy while speeding from place to place (or space to space). Photons might now be viewed as if they swim through an ocean of water instead of whizzing through the vacuum of open space.
If the cosmos is indeed an essentially empty void, the sub-atomic properties of something like a photon would likely be necessarily different from those qualities needed to operate in a more fluidic continuum filled with both Dark Energy and Dark Matter.
Assuming that Dark Matter fills every spatial nook and cranny, then we might want to conduct a reappraisal of how we think photons function and move accordingly. While it's tempting to think of a particle of light moving through empty space, akin to a laser bullet shot from a laser emitter of some kind, a new and revolutionary reimagining of the photon becomes equally tempting as regards its flight through a more substantial medium.
We typically think of the cosmos as being a vacuum, within which exist pieces and particles of matter, all of which possess mass to one degree or another. Forces of energy also occupy the universe, but all of these are inseparable from the sub-atomic worlds that spawn them. Essentially, we're still left with a lot of big, empty space, and lots of cosmological flotsam and jetsam. At least that's what we used to think. Until the duo of Dark Energy and Matter showed their ugly faces.
I say ugly, because the two together, both Dark Energy and Dark Matter, have changed the face of the cosmos, and not always for the better. Meaning they've spoiled the stew, messed with the broth where scientists were finally beginning to see light at the end of the cooking pot -- when things went dark again. One of the more interesting -- if not troubling -- ramifications or consequences of Dark Energy and Matter is the recent determination that instead of slowing down as the universe expands, it is, in fact, speeding up. Such a concept is completely counterintuitive as to the lasting effects of the Big Bang and all it portends.
Up until recently, a certain amount of uncertainty still existed as to whether the material universe might cease its expansion and, due to the gravitational effects of all the combined matter in the cosmos, would either slow, eventually stop, then reverse course and collapse back into a Big Crunch -- or, in the absence of a sufficient amount of both matter and gravity, would continue to expand ever outward, presumably forever. Even then, nuclear decay should ultimately result in a cemetery-like universe whose headstones and caskets lay at near-infinite distances from one another.
Enter the existence of Dark Matter and Energy, and not only does the cosmos never stop expanding and fall back into itself, but things begin to exceed the speed of light; once that happens, it's anyone's guess as to what happens next. It's likely that no one will be around to take any pictures by the time things get really weird, but it is fun to speculate, nonetheless, about the nature of the universe in, say, another ten to twenty billion years from now. If I propose how the people of that time will all be taking ballet lessons, you'd be hard pressed to prove me wrong. Depending on which ballet it might be. But I digress.
As I was saying, not only is the expansion of the universe accelerating, but it is now believed that at the outer fringes of the visible universe, stars and galaxies are traveling near the speed of light itself -- with no sign of slowing down. That and a few other details are rewriting the books on what we believe is going on. For now, we think that via the forces of Dark Energy, combined in some presently unfathomable way with Dark Matter, that all ordinary mass in the universe is being "pushed" away from itself, with ever increasing velocities. This is again similar to a metaphor in which dominoes are used to explain things such that even I can understand them.
Additionally, the idea that the universe is largely a vacuum is also being rethought. The cosmos may, in fact, be the farthest thing from a vacuum, at least in terms of how we normally define empty space. One notion of Dark Matter presumes that regardless of what it is, the bulk of it occupies every bit of space not occupied by more orthodox, visible matter. As much as 27% of all the matter in the universe is now thought to be of the dark variety.
If we consider the equally startling notion that 90% of all the matter in the universe is unaccounted for -- matter that ought to be there but is somehow missing -- the concept of Dark Matter literally explodes with sudden relevancy. And given the inconceivable amount of material that Dark Matter potentially represents, it seems highly likely that a powerful force would accompany, or be produced by such an overwhelming, quantitative magnitude.
A really good metaphor for the condition of the universe as described, would be an aquarium. We certainly don't think of the contents of an aquarium as being a vacuum. But humans are no more well suited to survive in water than they are in an actual vacuum, so it's a place for us to start. It's as though the universe were suddenly filled with water which then occupied every bit of unoccupied space. It makes little difference, in a philosophical sense, whether we live in an ocean of water, or empty space, but it becomes extremely critical in terms of the science involved.
More and more, it appears that the cosmos is the equivalent of a gigantic ocean, rather than some empty, hollow, dull and uninteresting vacuum. Dark Matter, however, compared to the resistive force of actual water, seems just the opposite; it appears to have little or no impact on regular matter moving through it. Given the increasing speed of the expanding universe, however, this observation may be both misleading and naive.
One set of questions are immediately obvious, and deserve being raised without any further ado. Or adon't. The first is whether or not such a thing as a true vacuum even exists. Secondly, how would such a state, if created, differ from the otherwise far-from-empty space that surrounds it? Third, it is now reasonable to assume that photons travel through an immensity of Dark Matter and Energy while speeding from place to place (or space to space). Photons might now be viewed as if they swim through an ocean of water instead of whizzing through the vacuum of open space.
If the cosmos is indeed an essentially empty void, the sub-atomic properties of something like a photon would likely be necessarily different from those qualities needed to operate in a more fluidic continuum filled with both Dark Energy and Dark Matter.
Assuming that Dark Matter fills every spatial nook and cranny, then we might want to conduct a reappraisal of how we think photons function and move accordingly. While it's tempting to think of a particle of light moving through empty space, akin to a laser bullet shot from a laser emitter of some kind, a new and revolutionary reimagining of the photon becomes equally tempting as regards its flight through a more substantial medium.
"Open the pod bay doors, Hal."
Fig. 9. Credit: astrophysics.pro
Imagine that space is filled with an infinite alignment of dominoes arranged in ways not altogether dissimilar to what we see when dominoes are used to entertain us by falling, one against the other, in a sequential manner. Thus instead of empty space existing between Earth and the farthest star or galaxy, a really long, long, long, lineup of dominoes stretches from here to there. Or from there to here. Depending on which way the wind is blowing, or from where the original emission of light was propagated.
Imagine also, that strictly for the purposes of our demonstration, a small light sits atop each of the dominoes. The only way the light illuminates, is when one domino touches another, by falling into it. Further, the moment, the very instant that a lit domino touches the one next in line, its own light goes out and the other's light comes on. Ready to play? Let's do it.
Some number of light-years away, a star was born some billions of years ago. Somewhere in the nighttime sky, a few hundred years back -- or maybe yesterday even, a new point of starlight blinked on as the light from the star finally reached us. If you were staring in the right spot at the right time, you would have seen a star suddenly appear where there hadn't been one only moments before. Astronomers see these stars once in a while, but the events are rare and very conditional.
Be that as it may, the photons of light that burst forth when the star first started to burn, have traveled a vast distance, finally reached the Earth, and then just kept going. If we saw the new light just yesterday, then Mercury won't see it for a while yet. About eight minutes later or so, right? Okay so far.
The question is now twofold: whether the light that we see is some "thing" that, like a tiny spaceship, traveled from the star's original location, and just now arrived at our region of space -- or whether a form of energy, like an ocean wave, has just now reached us. The water in that ocean wave is not the same water that somehow moved from where it was originally, and then traveled to where it crested and crashed on shore. The water, as a medium, a continuum, simply transferred the energy from one place to another.
It is highly likely that photons operate in much the same way. Hence what I call, "the domino effect". As each of the dominoes touched the next in line, its own light extinguished as the next one lit, the appearance would be that of a particle of something -- in this case a particle of light -- moving very rapidly across measureable, even immeasurable distances. And doing so at the aforementioned 186,000 miles-per-second. Granted those dominoes fall fast. At least mine do.
Only upon close examination do we ascertain that a single ball of light did not, in fact, move from one place to another. Rather it only appeared that a ball of light was moving along, from spot to spot. We thus realize that by the time Earthlings see the light's eventual arrival, we perceive a form of energy solely that, like the touch of hands only, in a relay race, has finally reached our locale.
Worth repeating is that no thing, per se, as if a material object of some kind, has gone from one point to another. No photon has traveled from its star of origin, gone zipping through space and somewhat out of breath, continued on its way without so much as a hello or goodbye.
An enegetic pulse, however, like the wave effect of falling dominoes, has made the trip instead. And, provided the dominoes (Dark Matter/Energy) remain in abundance, the pulse in question should continue indefinitely. For lack of a better understanding or terminology, we refer to these perceived effects as photons of light. A single photon as described in this essay, is simply a single unit or increment of energy, that is not unlike a solitary swimmer in an ocean of liquid. When seen traveling in large schools, we call the phenomenon in question -- light.
Also deserving of mention is that none of the foregoing is the correct answer to anything. Unless I got lucky and accidentally stumbled upon the secrets of the universe (which is highly doubtful) little if any of what I describe here is an authentic depiction of how photons actually function.
The accuracy of this essay is not the point. The suggestion that photons are intriguing, mysterious peeks at what is really happening with respect to Dark Energy and Dark Matter is, however, a nice approximation, I believe, towards understanding the true nature of the universe. The ultimate irony will be that light itself was intimately associated with forces both dark and invisible.
Imagine also, that strictly for the purposes of our demonstration, a small light sits atop each of the dominoes. The only way the light illuminates, is when one domino touches another, by falling into it. Further, the moment, the very instant that a lit domino touches the one next in line, its own light goes out and the other's light comes on. Ready to play? Let's do it.
Some number of light-years away, a star was born some billions of years ago. Somewhere in the nighttime sky, a few hundred years back -- or maybe yesterday even, a new point of starlight blinked on as the light from the star finally reached us. If you were staring in the right spot at the right time, you would have seen a star suddenly appear where there hadn't been one only moments before. Astronomers see these stars once in a while, but the events are rare and very conditional.
Be that as it may, the photons of light that burst forth when the star first started to burn, have traveled a vast distance, finally reached the Earth, and then just kept going. If we saw the new light just yesterday, then Mercury won't see it for a while yet. About eight minutes later or so, right? Okay so far.
The question is now twofold: whether the light that we see is some "thing" that, like a tiny spaceship, traveled from the star's original location, and just now arrived at our region of space -- or whether a form of energy, like an ocean wave, has just now reached us. The water in that ocean wave is not the same water that somehow moved from where it was originally, and then traveled to where it crested and crashed on shore. The water, as a medium, a continuum, simply transferred the energy from one place to another.
It is highly likely that photons operate in much the same way. Hence what I call, "the domino effect". As each of the dominoes touched the next in line, its own light extinguished as the next one lit, the appearance would be that of a particle of something -- in this case a particle of light -- moving very rapidly across measureable, even immeasurable distances. And doing so at the aforementioned 186,000 miles-per-second. Granted those dominoes fall fast. At least mine do.
Only upon close examination do we ascertain that a single ball of light did not, in fact, move from one place to another. Rather it only appeared that a ball of light was moving along, from spot to spot. We thus realize that by the time Earthlings see the light's eventual arrival, we perceive a form of energy solely that, like the touch of hands only, in a relay race, has finally reached our locale.
Worth repeating is that no thing, per se, as if a material object of some kind, has gone from one point to another. No photon has traveled from its star of origin, gone zipping through space and somewhat out of breath, continued on its way without so much as a hello or goodbye.
An enegetic pulse, however, like the wave effect of falling dominoes, has made the trip instead. And, provided the dominoes (Dark Matter/Energy) remain in abundance, the pulse in question should continue indefinitely. For lack of a better understanding or terminology, we refer to these perceived effects as photons of light. A single photon as described in this essay, is simply a single unit or increment of energy, that is not unlike a solitary swimmer in an ocean of liquid. When seen traveling in large schools, we call the phenomenon in question -- light.
Also deserving of mention is that none of the foregoing is the correct answer to anything. Unless I got lucky and accidentally stumbled upon the secrets of the universe (which is highly doubtful) little if any of what I describe here is an authentic depiction of how photons actually function.
The accuracy of this essay is not the point. The suggestion that photons are intriguing, mysterious peeks at what is really happening with respect to Dark Energy and Dark Matter is, however, a nice approximation, I believe, towards understanding the true nature of the universe. The ultimate irony will be that light itself was intimately associated with forces both dark and invisible.
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