If, as I think they must be, things are properly considered in Platonia, Lucy never did leap to catch the swifts. The fact is, there never was one cat Lucy – there were (or rather are, since Lucy is in Platonia for eternity, as we all are) billions upon billions upon billions of Lucys. This is already true for the Lucys in one leap and descent. Microscopically, her 1026 atoms were rearranged to such an extent that only the stability of her gross features enables us to call her one cat. What is more, compared with her haemoglobin molecules the features by which we identified her – the sharp eyes, the sleek coat, the wicked claws – were gross. Because we do not and cannot look closely at these Lucys, we think they are one. And all these Lucys are themselves embedded in the vast individual Nows of the universe. Uncountable Nows in Platonia contain something we should call Lucy, all in perfect Platonic stillness. It is because we abstract and ‘detach’ one Lucy from her Nows that we think a cat leapt. Cats don’t leap in Platonia. They just are.
You might argue that even if cats do not have a permanent identity, their atoms do. But this presupposes that atoms are like billiard balls with distinguishing marks and permanent identities. They aren’t. Two atoms of the same kind are indistinguishable. One cannot ‘put labels on them’ and recognize them individually later. Moreover, at the deeper, subatomic level the atoms themselves are in a perpetual state of flux. We think things persist in time because structures persist, and we mistake the structure for substance. But looking for enduring substance is like looking for time. It slips through your fingers. One cannot step into the same river twice.
Zeno of Elea, who belonged to the same philosophical school as Parmenides, formulated a famous paradox designed to show that motion is impossible. After an arrow shot at a target has got halfway there, it still has half the distance to go. When it has gone half that distance, it still has half of that way to go. This goes on for ever. The arrow can never reach the target, so motion is impossible. In normal physics, with a notion of time, Zeno’s paradox is readily resolved. However, in my timeless view the paradox is resurrected, but the arrow never reaches the target for a more basic reason: the arrow in the bow is not the arrow in the target.
There are two parts to my claim that time does not exist. I start from the philosophical conviction that the only true things are complete possible configurations of the universe, unchanging Nows. Unchanging things do not travel in time from Now to Now. Material things, we included, are simply parts of Nows. This philosophical standpoint must be matched by a physical theory that seems natural within it. The evidence that such a physical theory exists and seems to describe the universe forms the other part of my claim. This section has merely made the philosophy, the notion of being, clear. The physics, the guts of the story, is still to come.
THE BIG PICTURE
Before Newton was born, René Descartes raised a nightmarish prospect. How do I know, he asked, whether anything exists? Is some malignant demon conjuring up my thoughts and experiences? Perhaps there isn’t any world. How can we be sure of anything? Descartes famously argued that we can at least be certain of our own existence. Cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore I am. In fact, this did not get him very far, and his main argument for a real world was that God would not deceive us on such a fundamental matter.
Modern science has a better answer to the solipsists – those who, like Descartes in that extreme moment of doubt, deny existence outside their own thoughts. The starting point is that we do observe a great variety of phenomena. We can then ask whether we can postulate a world and laws that lead to the phenomena. If this is so, it does not explain how or why the world is there, but it does provide grounds for taking its existence more seriously.
You may think that time capsules and a brain preserved in aspic aware of seeing motion are getting dangerously close to solipsism and the machinations of a demon. Without anticipating the rest of the book, an outline may still be helpful. There are only two rules of the game: there must be an external world subject to laws and a correspondence between it and experiences.
Apart from the fact that Newton placed the material objects of the universe in an arena, my things are his things. They are Nows, the relative configurations of the universe. Newton’s Nows form a string, brought into being by an act of creation at one end, called the past. It is usually assumed that our experiences in some instant reflect the structure in a short segment of the string at a point along it. It is a segment, rather than one Now, because we see things not only in positions but in motion. However, a single Now contains only positional information. It seems that we need at least two Nows to have information about changes of position.
Newtonian history, as modified by Big Bang cosmology, translates into a path in Platonia. It begins at a certain point with a creation event, after which the laws of nature determine the path. Many paths satisfy the same laws, but the laws by themselves do not tell us why one path is chosen by the creation event in preference to others.
The alternative picture, suggested by quantum mechanics and proposed in this book, is quite different. There are no paths with unique starting points conceived as creation events. Indeed, there are no paths at all. Instead, the different points of Platonia, each of which represents a different possible configuration of the universe, are present – as potentialities at least – in different quantities. This matches what we found in the Timeless Theory bag: many different triangles present in different quantities. It will be helpful to represent this in a more graphic way. Imagine that Platonia is covered by a mist. Its intensity does not vary in time – it is static – but it does vary from position to position. Its intensity at each given point is a measure of how many configurations (as in the previous example, with triangles in the Timeless Bag) corresponding to that point are present. All these configurations, present in different quantities, you should imagine for the moment as being collected together in a ‘heap’ or ‘bag’.
So, Platonia is covered with mist. Its intensity cannot change in time (there is no time), but it does vary from point to point. In some places it is much more intense than in others. A timeless law, complete in itself, determines where the mist collects. The law is a kind of competition for the mist between the Nows. Those that ‘resonate’ well with each other get more mist. The outcome is a distribution of mist intensity. This, as I have just explained, is simply another description of the Timeless Theory bag – for mist intensity read numbers of triangle copies. But the Nows of this Platonia are much more complex than triangles.
This opens up possibilities. Triangles tell no stories, they are too simple. But if the Nows are defined by, say, the arrangements of three large bodies and of many thousands of small bodies, things are different. For example, the three large bodies could form the tenth triangle from the right in Figure 1. The remaining small bodies could be arranged in such a way that they literally create the pattern of the first nine triangles from the right of the sequence. This may seem contrived, but it is possible. It is a Now in a greatly enlarged Platonia. Shown such a Now, what could we make of it? One interpretation is that the small bodies record what the large bodies have done: the Now is a time capsule, a picture of a Newtonian history. As soon as a sufficient number of bodies are present, the possibilities for creating time capsules are immense.