time slowed down for the universe outside Arno Strine—or, equivalently and perhaps more usefully, that time for him sped up, while the rest of the world went on as usual. But just as well, we could say that “time” was completely unaffected, and what changed were the laws of particle physics (masses, charges on different particles) within Arno’s sphere of influence. Concepts like “time” are not handed to us unambiguously by the outside world but are invented by human beings trying to make sense of the universe. If the universe were very different, we might have to make sense of it in a different way.
Meanwhile, there is a very real way for one collection of clocks to measure time differently than another: have them move along different paths through spacetime. That’s completely compatible with our claim that “good clocks” should measure time in the same way, because we can’t readily compare clocks unless they’re next to one another in space. The total amount of time elapsed on two different trajectories can be different without leading to any inconsistencies. But it does lead to something important—the theory of relativity.
Twisty paths through spacetime
Through the miracle of synchronized repetition, time doesn’t simply put different moments in the history of the universe into order; it also tells us “how far apart” they are (in time). We can say more than “1776 happened before 2010”; we can say “1776 happened 234 years before 2010.”
I should emphasize a crucial distinction between “dividing the universe into different moments” and “measuring the elapsed time between events,” a distinction that will become enormously important when we get to relativity. Let’s imagine you are an ambitious temporal 10 engineer, and you’re not satisfied to just have your wristwatch keep accurate time; you want to be able to know what time it is at every other event in spacetime as well. You might be tempted to wonder: Couldn’t we (hypothetically) construct a time coordinate all throughout the universe, just by building an infinite number of clocks, synchronizing them to the same time, and scattering them throughout space? Then, wherever we went in spacetime, there would be a clock sitting at each point telling us what time it was, once and for all.
The real world, as we will see, doesn’t let us construct an absolute universal time coordinate. For a long time people thought it did, under no less an authority than that of Sir Isaac Newton. In Newton’s view of the universe, there was one particular right way to slice up the universe into slices of “space at a particular moment of time.” And we could indeed, at least in a thought-experiment kind of way, send clocks all throughout the universe to set up a time coordinate that would uniquely specify when a certain event was taking place.
But in 1905, along comes Einstein with his special theory of relativity. 11 The central conceptual breakthrough of special relativity is that our two aspects of time, “time labels different moments” and “time is what clocks measure,” are not equivalent, or even interchangeable. In particular, the scheme of setting up a time coordinate by sending clocks throughout the universe would not work : two clocks, leaving the same event and arriving at the same event but taking different paths to get there, will generally experience different durations along the journey, slipping out of synchronization. That’s not because we haven’t been careful enough to pick “good clocks,” as defined above. It’s because the duration elapsed along two trajectories connecting two events in spacetime need not be the same .
This idea isn’t surprising, once we start thinking that “time is kind of like space.” Consider an analogous statement, but for space instead of time: The distance traveled along two paths connecting two points in space need not be the same. Doesn’t sound so surprising at all, does it?