Today in pulp I look at time travel. It's full of paradoxes but there's one we rarely explore: does it break the Law of Conservation of Energy?
Let’s investigate…
Time travel is a staple of pulp science fiction and it often involves a paradox: changing history, killing your grandfather, creating a time loop etc. Solving the paradox, or realising too late that one is happening, is half the fun of these stories.
Thinking about the nature of time is also fun. Does it exist or is it emergent? It is a local or global event? How many dimensions does it come in? Why is there an ‘arrow of time’? There are many possible answers.
One thing time travel does involve is rule breaking! Or does it? Many fundamental equations are time symmetric. Entropy may be locally reversible. And if we live in a multiverse there are many ways to avoid possible paradoxes. So can we game the system?
Well there’s one law that’s hard to game: if we do create a time machine we’ll need to think of a way to deal with the Law of Conservation of Energy. This rarely pops up in time travel stories, but it’s a doozy!
The Law of Conservation of Energy states that the total energy of an isolated system remains constant. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it can only be transformed or transferred from one form to another.
And it is a Law. Time translation symmetry depends on it, and without that we will struggle to prove that the laws of physics are timeless and apply everywhere in the Universe.
Energy conservation also affects mass, as mass is related to energy via E=mc². Crudely put mass is frozen energy. That means we need to conserve mass and energy when applying the Law. Probably.
Now there is a bit of a legal loophole in general relativity when it comes to curved spacetime. In general - for isolated systems and single observers - relativistic mass is conserved in spacetime, but different observers can see different values.
And time crystals were discovered in 2017: particles who are in perpetual motion at their lowest energy state, which break time symmetry. We know quantum states break many rules. However those rules still apply to us at the macro level.
In short, it still holds that the amount of mass and energy should remain conserved - at least where you live. So what happens when Doctor Who pops round for tea?
Well we have a problem. As soon as the TARDIS arrives in the tea room we have a large amount of mass and energy suddenly being added to the universe at that particular time. A similar amount has just vanished from the place the Doctor left. Is this allowed?
Now put aside the fact that the Doctor’s also changed the local amount of entropy in the tea room, let’s just look at all this mass and energy that’s turned up! We’ve clearly broken the Laws of Conservation, which isn’t allowed. So how can we get away with it?
There are four broad ways you can game the Laws of Conservation. The first is to deny they are Laws and simply agree that they are habits. As noted there are some exceptions to the Laws that we have already observed.
The consequences however are huge. Are all Laws just habits? Do Laws evolve over time? Is there no universal physics? Predictability goes out of the window and the eternalist view of the Cosmos soon follows. Scientists will be very grumpy.
The second route is to treat time travel as a special case: the Laws apply for as long as time travel remains uninvented. As soon as we invent it the Laws change. Time travel therefore becomes an important and non-reversible event in the Cosmos.
This means… more paradoxes! Does time travel cause the Laws to break throughout history, or only to areas we time travel to? Is the time traveller exempt from the broken Laws? Can the TARDIS be a perpetual motion machine? It’s a lot to consider.
The third route is to say the Laws are not localised. You can steal energy and mass from the future and move it to the past in the same way you can move a burning candle from one room to another: energy is still conserved in total, measured across the totality of time and space.
This makes time travel a great way to get almost unlimited energy: borrow it from the future! And if time travel requires a huge energy source then why not have a bootstrap paradox and get that energy via time travel in the first place.
The fourth method is probably the easiest, relatively speaking. An amount of energy and/or mass equivalent to the TARDIS is taken from the tea room and sent back to the time and place the TARDIS departed from. Basically you rob Peter to pay Paul.
In this scenario time travel is really about mass/energy swaps between time periods, which in itself leads to a novel paradox...
Suppose you don’t have a TARDIS and you travel to the past via a wormhole. Does that mean someone the same size as you has to travel in the opposite direction too? What if that person is also you?
Happy paradoxes everybody!
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He was the terror of London; a demonic figure with glowing eyes and fiery breath who could leap ten feet high. The penny dreadfuls of the time wrote up his exploits in lurid terms. But who was he really?
Today I look at one of the earliest pulp legends: Spring-Heeled Jack!
London has always attracted ghosts, and in the 19th Century they increasingly left their haunted houses and graveyards and began to wader the capital's streets.
But one apparition caught the Victorian public attention more than most...
In October 1837 a 'leaping character' with a look of the Devil began to prey on Londoners. Often he would leap high into the air and land in front of a carriage, causing it to crash. It would then flee with a high-pitched laugh.
Today in pulp I look back at New Zealand's home-grow microcomputer, the 1981 Poly-1!
Press any key to continue...
The Poly-1 was developed in 1980 by two electronics engineering teachers at Wellington Polytechnic, Neil Scott and Paul Bryant, who wanted to create a computer for use in New Zealand schools. Education Minister Merv Wellington liked the idea and gave it the green light.
Backed by government finances, and in partnership with Progeni Computers, Polycorp was formed in 1980 to began work on the prototype for the official Kiwi school computer.
It was the biggest manhunt in Britain: police, the press, aeroplanes, psychics all tried to solve the disappearance. In the end nobody really knew what happened. It was a mystery without a solution.
This is the story of Agatha Christie's 11 lost days...
By 1926 Agatha Christie's reputation as a writer was starting to grow. Her sixth novel - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - had been well-received and she and her husband Archie had recently concluded a world tour. But all was not well with the marriage.
In April 1926 Agatha Christie’s mother died. Christie was very close to her: she had been home-schooled and believed her mother was clairvoyant. The shock of her sudden death hit the author hard.
Many readers have asked me over the years what my definition of pulp is. I've thought about it a lot, and the definition I keep coming back to... well it may surprise you.
Let me try and set it out.
There are lots of definitions of pulp out there: in books, in academic papers and on the web. And most circle back to the same three points: the medium, the story type and the method of writing.
Pulp is of course a type of cheap, coarse paper stock. Its use in magazine production from the 1890s onwards led to it becoming a shorthand term for the kind of fiction found in low cost story magazines.
let's take a look at the extraordinary work of Victorian illustrator and cat lover Louis Wain!
Louis Wain was born in London in 1860. Although he is best known for his drawings of cats he started out as a Victorian press illustrator. His work is highly collectable.
Wain had a very difficult life; born with a cleft lip he was not allowed to attend school. His freelance drawing work supported his mother and sisters after his father died. Aged 23 he married his sisters' governess, Emily Richardson, 10 years his senior.
Over the years a number of people have asked me if I have a favourite pulp film. Well I do. It's this one.
This is the story of Alphaville...
Alphaville: une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965) was Jean-Luc Godard’s ninth feature film. A heady mix of spy noir, science fiction and the Nouvelle Vague at its heart is a poetic conflict between a hard-boiled secret agent and a supercomputer’s brave new world.
British writer Peter Cheyney had created the fictitious American investigator Lemmy Caution in 1936. As well as appearing in 10 novels Caution featured in over a dozen post-war French films, mostly played by singer Eddie Constantine whom Godard was keen to work with.