Thursday 6 September 2012

Trouncing The Trouserial Frontier.


                You're on a ball of rock. A big ball, granted, which has more than just rocks in it but in essence, it's a big old ball of rock hurtling through space. You don't notice it hurtling through space of course, because everything around it is also hurtling through space with it, at a similarly astounding velocity. Whilst doing this it's also winding a merry course around a somewhat ludicrously larger ball of superheated hydrogen fusion and spinning about on an axis at an angle which the general consensus has declared to be satisfyingly jaunty without pushing it too much. Again, you don't notice much of this going on directly, but when it gets dark and cold you'll begin to have an inkling that something is going on and you're not being carbon copied into the emails. Even so, what's more unusual for you and your pet rock, which we'll call terra because that's a nice name and it sounds like terror (which is what you should be experiencing in all this rushing around), is that not only are you zipping through space like you have an important meeting to be late for, but space is hurrying along with you as if to bring you your forgotten sandwiches. In this case we can allow the sandwiches to be the effects of various dark energy components of the universe. The filling can be tuna.
                You may be thinking "Well, I don't seem to have much input in where I'm being taken or what my lunch will be, but that isn't a whole lot different to getting on a commercial flight. At least without the advent of a cosmological flight deck or astronomical child kicking the back of my galactic seat, I am able to see where I am heading." but sadly you're not quite on the ball there either. The metaphorical ball of having the right idea that is, not the ball of rock. The chances are you're still on that one unless you've named yourself curiosity and gone for a bit of a jaunt to a neighbouring rock which is on an analogous journey. No, you can only see a vague impression of where you would have been heading a very, very long time ago if you'd had the foresight to set off for place B rather than sitting in place A pondering on why you didn't like it very much. It's not just the time it took for the light to get to you either, because whilst you are effectively gazing into the past in much the same way as receiving a letter by second class post (the postman in this case is both a wave and a particle so don't be too mean to him, he can't even interact with letters to deliver them), you're also probably going to be seeing a lot of things far too many times in the sky or seeing smeared out versions of what they should look like. Your close friend mass is to blame for that one, bending space-time and making light travel around it when it should collide and stay for tea. It's sort of like heading on a beeline to London then being caught up in the M25 and deflected past it to somewhere on the opposite side. There are some things you won't even be seeing at all because light can't escape them, like the Coventry one-way system.
                So, you're heading blindly through space at a quite alarming speed but these deflecting effects should at least keep you entertained with their pretty light shows and you'll keep getting new scenery the farther you go. Except, you won't. Space is such a dedicated spouse that in its efforts to get your sandwiches to you, its acceleration has had the quite peculiar effect of meaning that in an infinite amount of time, light may only travel a finite distance. Drop this bombshell at the meeting, then everyone will forget about how late you were and continue onto "Any other business". Unless you can't actually get to the meeting because it's beyond even the theoretical reaches of your pocket torch. You may wish to conduct a review of meeting schedules and locations if this presents an issue but at least you'll never be reprimanded for not showing up. Eventually, of course, nothing else will show up either. Not to the meeting, not to London, not even to your generally successful bridge and whist evenings. Space is accelerating away from itself in its frenzy for you to enjoy your delicious lunch and by the time you've failed to get to where it's physically impossible for you to be, you won't even be able to see the pocket torch that you're holding and shining directly into your own face. This of course will make reading to pass the time a struggle beyond even travel sickness.
                It's nothing to worry about though, your solar travel buddy will have long since run out of fuel and collapsed under its own weight causing it to explode, grow in size, and engulf you before you even notice that your socks are odd.

No comments:

Post a Comment