, "Economy," Walden, 1854Time is a magazine, a Pink Floyd track off The Dark Side Of The Moon, and what can manipulated to extreme ends in countless bouts of science fiction. It's also what the clock face shows, a phrase taken straight from Albert Einstein's own mouth, showing that even one of the most influential and influential scientists of mankind could offer no scientific qualms concerning time, but instead conceded in revealing a basic, obvious observation - that he was as knowledgeable as the next man in having a one-liner about time.
I remember reading W.H. Auden's poem Stop All The Clocks back in eighth grade. It was for a literature class, and by all means I hadn't really stopped to ask myself the implication of what he was describing, but rather persisted in trying to wrestle my brain around grappling the identification of similes and metaphorical value in order to inject substance onto paper, hoping for a good grade. I think it advances my point to say that the essay didn't do so hot either, considering I was trying too hard to stand out as superior to my classmates, and clumsily commanded what I thought at the time was verbal dexterity, when indeed my fourteen year old bold comments and flashy generalizations about time were not at all as grand as I had initially envisioned. But the image the poet offers for us as food for thought is something for us to chew on for eternity. Stopping time, even for mere moments, would definitely have implications too profound to grapple with in a teenager's blog.
That isn't to say it hasn't been thrown around before, and indeed by the very same teenager. Late nights at the college library have most certainly involved me counting down the remaining number of hours I have for sleep until my alarm clock stirs me from blissful abandon. My roommate and I have discussed the possibility of technology advancing to where each human is able to crawl into a realm that is timeless - a domain that can only be used for sleep and recuperation. So no sneaking off with incomplete work assignments safely concealed within underpants - a nasty little Christmas present for just about anyone - but indeed just a safe haven to ensure that we can carry on producing and functioning like the workaholics we are after great, interminable lengths of sleep. Of course it's never going to happen - but the implications for us were nonetheless distractingly dreamy.
Then again, the idea of hyper-advanced technology bearing the fruits of incontrovertible benefits and creating the ultimate utopia have been questioned before, particularly with Brave New World. Huxley has shown us the devotion that people of London in 2540 exhibit for technology, as it has been taken up with religious fervor, most obviously seen in the absolute integration of the phrase 'Ford' into human life, such as the exclamation "Oh Ford!" to indications of time with A.F. instead of A.D. So unfortunately for us college students, perhaps hoping that technology advancing to such a level may push the bliss of infinite sleep to becoming insignificant in the larger scale - that is, the futurism offered by Huxley in the form of sleep-learning will become an utter reality.
And with that it's indeed time to hit the sack. Before I go, here's a product of inspiration resulting from recently breaking my alarm clock early in the morning as I emerged from a murky world of dreams. Enjoy~
Alarmed
This morning, whilst flailing around within my dreams,
I struck out and destroyed an alarm clock; shattered machine.
There lay time broken with its cell detached and cold;
The hands paused and went dormant; having dreams of its own?
Clumsily, I attempted restoration; the cell returned to its position,
- Gracious power returned to the ageless entity -
But lightning struck twice, and again it dropped to the floor,
Releasing cataclysm and a fractured glass pane.
Within this I saw a crack ripple through its frame;
- For a moment, there was a crack in time itself -
And amidst this I realized that time had momentarily froze;
Merely a fraction before other clocks continued their death drum.
And I wondered if one continued to destroy clocks for eternity;
- With endless abandon and continuing the carnage forever -
Would these fractions accumulate to something more substantial?
And that we could actually stop time in its tracks?
