Consider.
Ultraviolet begins at a wavelength of 0.4 microns. Infrared starts at 0.7 microns. All the light in between is all you will ever see (assuming you're human).
Let's say the average color of all the light you see is right in the middle. 0.55 microns -- sort of a yellowish-green.
Let's also say that -- presumably -- you spend most of your time moving steadily along the timestream at one second (subjective) per second (objective). Here, we immediately have problems, because strictly speaking, there is no "objective" where quanta are concerned, but let's skip that rant for now.
100 seconds-subjective per 100 seconds-objective. Yellowish-green. The speed and color of your life.
Now push.
Push until you're experiencing one hundred and twenty seconds for every one hundred seconds experienced by your friends, your family, your pets, your neighbors, your political party, your nation, your religion, your species, your quarter of the galaxy, your entire plane of reality.
120 seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. It doesn't seem like it should matter much. You walk a little faster. You have time to goof off a little more. But think about it. Think about recorded sound, about what happens when you play it back at the wrong speed.
Yes, it's funny. Too high or too low. Because of the wavelengths -- the amount of time that passes between the troughs and crests of the sound waves. Sound has a wavelength.
So does light.
All the light coming into your eyes is coming in at a reduced speed, which is the same thing as an increased wavelength. The crests of the photon wavicle are further apart, in direct proportion to your temporal dilation. What the rest of the world sees colored at 0.55 microns, that gentle yellowish-green, you now see colored at 0.66 -- a throbbing, angry red.
And all the things that used to be red? Hell, you're not even physically equipped to see them any more.
Push again.
This time, to 200 seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. Now you're really flying. Your voice is cartoonishly high. You can run like a bat out of Hell. Your unrestrained fist can fracture a man's skull.
But it's not all fun and games.
The top of the human visual spectrum, the 0.4 microns marking the edge of ultraviolet, is now, to you, 0.8 microns -- well below infrared. The colors interpreted by your eyes as the violet-to-red range are actually inhabitants of the weird hyperblue scale usually only seen by insects.
Let's push again. Harder, this time.
One million seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. In the time it takes a single day to pass for the rest of the world, you have 27 years to kill.
The colors you see at this speed aren't even distant cousins of the visible spectrum. What looks like the comfortable old yellowish-green is really part of the x-ray range. The colors of your native spectrum are hitting your skin at wavelengths similar to those pumped out by a microwave oven.
By the way, don't even imagine trying to interact with the world at that speed. The air around you has the relative density of solid oak.
Double your speed three or four more times and even x-rays are too slow for your nimble optic nerves -- you see in gamma rays.
And the light you used to be able to see? You might be able to detect it with a transistor radio, had you the forethought to bring one along.
As Carlin said, "These are the thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools."
Let's say the average color of all the light you see is right in the middle. 0.55 microns -- sort of a yellowish-green.
Let's also say that -- presumably -- you spend most of your time moving steadily along the timestream at one second (subjective) per second (objective). Here, we immediately have problems, because strictly speaking, there is no "objective" where quanta are concerned, but let's skip that rant for now.
100 seconds-subjective per 100 seconds-objective. Yellowish-green. The speed and color of your life.
Now push.
Push until you're experiencing one hundred and twenty seconds for every one hundred seconds experienced by your friends, your family, your pets, your neighbors, your political party, your nation, your religion, your species, your quarter of the galaxy, your entire plane of reality.
120 seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. It doesn't seem like it should matter much. You walk a little faster. You have time to goof off a little more. But think about it. Think about recorded sound, about what happens when you play it back at the wrong speed.
Yes, it's funny. Too high or too low. Because of the wavelengths -- the amount of time that passes between the troughs and crests of the sound waves. Sound has a wavelength.
So does light.
All the light coming into your eyes is coming in at a reduced speed, which is the same thing as an increased wavelength. The crests of the photon wavicle are further apart, in direct proportion to your temporal dilation. What the rest of the world sees colored at 0.55 microns, that gentle yellowish-green, you now see colored at 0.66 -- a throbbing, angry red.
And all the things that used to be red? Hell, you're not even physically equipped to see them any more.
Push again.
This time, to 200 seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. Now you're really flying. Your voice is cartoonishly high. You can run like a bat out of Hell. Your unrestrained fist can fracture a man's skull.
But it's not all fun and games.
The top of the human visual spectrum, the 0.4 microns marking the edge of ultraviolet, is now, to you, 0.8 microns -- well below infrared. The colors interpreted by your eyes as the violet-to-red range are actually inhabitants of the weird hyperblue scale usually only seen by insects.
Let's push again. Harder, this time.
One million seconds-s per 100 seconds-o. In the time it takes a single day to pass for the rest of the world, you have 27 years to kill.
The colors you see at this speed aren't even distant cousins of the visible spectrum. What looks like the comfortable old yellowish-green is really part of the x-ray range. The colors of your native spectrum are hitting your skin at wavelengths similar to those pumped out by a microwave oven.
By the way, don't even imagine trying to interact with the world at that speed. The air around you has the relative density of solid oak.
Double your speed three or four more times and even x-rays are too slow for your nimble optic nerves -- you see in gamma rays.
And the light you used to be able to see? You might be able to detect it with a transistor radio, had you the forethought to bring one along.
As Carlin said, "These are the thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools."