Read Online Mr g by Alan Lightman - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Lightman
Tags: Fiction / Literary
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fashion. Described in other terms, the spinning of the planets naturally produced a separation of darkness and light, and this separation varied from one planet to the next. As there were billions upon billions of planets, all spinning at different rates, the length of the day varied enormously, being on some planets as short as 10 19 atomic ticks, while on others as long as 10 21 ticks. In short, there were trillions of different days (and nights) throughout Aalam-104729.
The progression of days and nights on the planets naturally led to regular changes in temperatures, variations in the densities of atmospheres, wind movements like cyclones and hurricanes and seaborne typhoons. But there were other, more subtle artistic effects. The slow shift of the light through each day caused shadows to drift, shorten and lengthen, producing constantly changing silhouettes. The summits of mountains, which might be pink in the mornings, turned violet and amaranth in late afternoon. At certain times of the day a landscape might appear craggy and hard, and at other times the same landscape could seem delicate and soft, like evanescent veils in the Void. These phenomena could not be quantified, like temperatures and densities. Instead, they heightened one’s sensations. They seeped into one’s insides. Like music, they created a feeling that was not there before. They absorbed and reshaped the world of the imagination. With changes in light, shapes constantly changed. Air sparkled and glowed, then subsided to near invisibility. On the planets with volatile liquids, great clouds of water or ammonia evaporated into the sky, and these produced further variations in light. The days and the nights yielded not only different colorations, but also different smells and sensations and tonalities of sound.
Few of these phenomena I had predicted. See there? I said to Aunt Penelope, as if it were exactly as I had intended. And there? I waited for her response. Yes, yes, she finally said, which was as close to approval as she would allow.
At a certain moment of time, a particular planet in the universe completed its first rotation, before any other planet, the end of its first day. This was the first day in the universe. I noted when this happened, and it was good (or at least satisfying), and this was the end of the first day on that planet. Then, in another galaxy, 10 29 light-atomic-ticks away, another planet completed its first rotation, its first day, and I noted when this happened, and it also was good, and this was the end of the first day on that planet. Then, 10 30 light-atomic-ticks away, another planet completed its first rotation, and then another, and another. At various places and times in the universe, various planets, all with different rates of rotation, completed their first days. There, and then there, and later over there. There were billions and trillions of first days, all of them good. All in all, I was satisfied with what I had done.
The Emptiness in Somethingness
As I glided through the cosmos, I was taken with the relatively vast distances between things. Even though there was matter, the great majority of space was almost completely empty—not empty in the fashion of the Void, but possessing extremely little material. Galaxies of stars and planets and other material filled only about one-tenth of 1 percent of the volume of space. The other 99.9 percent of the universe was almost complete vacuum. Even within the galaxies, solar systems were far apart from one another. Starting at one solar system, I often had to travel a distance equal to the size of ten thousand solar systems to get to the next solar system. If intelligent beings ever arose on a planet in Aalam-104729, they would be separated by huge distances from other planets with life and probably never know of one another. And the separations would grow only larger with time, as the universe continued to expand.
Dissatisfactions, Disagreements, and Other
The progression of days and nights on the planets naturally led to regular changes in temperatures, variations in the densities of atmospheres, wind movements like cyclones and hurricanes and seaborne typhoons. But there were other, more subtle artistic effects. The slow shift of the light through each day caused shadows to drift, shorten and lengthen, producing constantly changing silhouettes. The summits of mountains, which might be pink in the mornings, turned violet and amaranth in late afternoon. At certain times of the day a landscape might appear craggy and hard, and at other times the same landscape could seem delicate and soft, like evanescent veils in the Void. These phenomena could not be quantified, like temperatures and densities. Instead, they heightened one’s sensations. They seeped into one’s insides. Like music, they created a feeling that was not there before. They absorbed and reshaped the world of the imagination. With changes in light, shapes constantly changed. Air sparkled and glowed, then subsided to near invisibility. On the planets with volatile liquids, great clouds of water or ammonia evaporated into the sky, and these produced further variations in light. The days and the nights yielded not only different colorations, but also different smells and sensations and tonalities of sound.
Few of these phenomena I had predicted. See there? I said to Aunt Penelope, as if it were exactly as I had intended. And there? I waited for her response. Yes, yes, she finally said, which was as close to approval as she would allow.
At a certain moment of time, a particular planet in the universe completed its first rotation, before any other planet, the end of its first day. This was the first day in the universe. I noted when this happened, and it was good (or at least satisfying), and this was the end of the first day on that planet. Then, in another galaxy, 10 29 light-atomic-ticks away, another planet completed its first rotation, its first day, and I noted when this happened, and it also was good, and this was the end of the first day on that planet. Then, 10 30 light-atomic-ticks away, another planet completed its first rotation, and then another, and another. At various places and times in the universe, various planets, all with different rates of rotation, completed their first days. There, and then there, and later over there. There were billions and trillions of first days, all of them good. All in all, I was satisfied with what I had done.
The Emptiness in Somethingness
As I glided through the cosmos, I was taken with the relatively vast distances between things. Even though there was matter, the great majority of space was almost completely empty—not empty in the fashion of the Void, but possessing extremely little material. Galaxies of stars and planets and other material filled only about one-tenth of 1 percent of the volume of space. The other 99.9 percent of the universe was almost complete vacuum. Even within the galaxies, solar systems were far apart from one another. Starting at one solar system, I often had to travel a distance equal to the size of ten thousand solar systems to get to the next solar system. If intelligent beings ever arose on a planet in Aalam-104729, they would be separated by huge distances from other planets with life and probably never know of one another. And the separations would grow only larger with time, as the universe continued to expand.
Dissatisfactions, Disagreements, and Other
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