When he was sixteen, a picture came to him of a long pier in a great vacuum. You could run down this pier alongside a companion beam of light--faster & faster til your speed matched the very radiance beside you. But what would you see when you came to that place, when you traveled at that unimaginable velocity?
And the answer came to him: the light would stand still, a great frozen wave, vast & lacquered as a marcel hairdo. It meant you could leave on a rocket ship, waving goodbye to your twin brother. It meant you could return, years later, to find he was old and you were still young, young enough not to know better than to look into his great, dark eyes as they bored into yours, drinking in their vanished youth...
This is called relativity.
Created: Mar 14, 2010Document Media