- Closer.

A glimpse of infinity.

-Closer

Benjamin Trayne

I don’t merely dream; sometimes I inhabit the dreams of others. You may consider this to be your lucky night.

You and I are situated, for the moment, somewhere in deep space. It's only for perspective. Don't be alarmed by the sensation of isolation and the surrounding blackness, I'm right beside you.

Far off in the firmament that extends in all directions as well as before us, a tiny, blue-white object sparkles. This is the place where you live. Its planetary brilliance is due to light reflected directly from the shimmering star of its origin. Never mind the surrounding grandeur of this solar system, its belts of asteroids and planetary satellites. Never mind the mighty nuclear furnace at its core, or the system's very real boundaries of influence and gravitational capture, or radiation-affected zones, or that this system, despite its seeming permanence, cannot, will not endure forever.

Let's just look a bit more closely at that intriguing, glinting blue-white jewel, reflecting light in the human visible spectrum, in our general direction. It is within our capabilities to move in more quickly than you can think about it. Just trust me.

- Closer.

Now we can clearly see, the blue-white object is a planet. No solid-matter planet is perfectly spherical, but this one is close. Surrounded by a gaseous layer of atmosphere, it's also blanketed with huge areas of billowing clouds, life-giving water vapor. Where the surface of the planet is not obscured by cloud cover, we can easily see its features and its topography, including vast bodies of water and continents, land-masses reflecting visible light in greens, grays and browns.

If we could increase the range of our vision to include wavelengths of higher and lower frequency, the picture would change dramatically. We would see even more of the many systems that affect this planet, even the clouds of radiation that surround and envelop all. All said systems are intermingled and working together in a dynamic, flowing, interdependent fashion. What an amazing place, is this!

- Closer.

Our new position is now deep within the atmosphere of the planet. Again, we've arrived at our new position almost instantaneously. Having traveled thus far in a perfectly straight line, we are now stopped just about a thousand meters from the surface. The odds were that we would be stopped over water since it covers the majority of the planet's surface, but as chance would have it, we are, instead, directly over land.

Looking down at an idyllic scene in the daylight of summer, we see a silvery-blue river winding its way through thickly-forested mountains, and concrete highways constructed by humans to connect their towns and cities, in a network of well-traveled, winding pathways across the landscape.

- Closer.

Still proceeding in a perfectly straight line, we are now hovering just six meters above one of the concrete highways. We revolve slowly, taking in all that surrounds us. The greenery of verdant plant life abounds here. Light and warmth from the core of the solar system has traveled all the way to this place, and is in use by nearly all of the plants to create sugars, to consume carbon dioxide and to produce oxygen in support of other kinds of life. What an amazing, fortuitous balance. And how beautiful! Here, just off the highway, trees spike skyward through low-growing laurel that is draped with vining wild grapes. Together they form a flowing carpet, interspersed with white clusters of laurel flowers.

- Closer.

Now we'll change direction ever so slightly, relative to our original straight-line path. We've gone from traveling many millions of kilometers to moving a distance of just a few meters. And this time, we are staring intently at the woody stem of a laurel shrub. Overhung by the laurel flowers, the bark of this stem is busy with insects moving up and down it as if it was a superhighway, carrying whatever it is they need from the upper reaches of the plants, possibly to the moistness and safety of the moss-covered earth below.

- Closer.

At this point we’ve drastically reduced our physical size, we have become very small. We've moved no more than the distance to the surface of the bark of the stem, and are now standing firmly upon it. The relatively smooth surface of the bark is, to us, a mountainous range of interwoven woody cells, both amber and translucent. The chance passage of an insect startles us, as it now appears to be monstrous, causing the living structure beneath our feet to shudder as its steps crash against the surface of the bark in a rapid staccato. A droplet of sap appears as a glowing, transparent bulb of gigantic proportion, and we can see its contents swirl with sugars and other highly complex organic compounds. A common ant, huge, black and complex in its own physiology, moves in very quickly and begins to consume the bulb of sap. We shy away, as the ant appears to be terrifyingly dangerous. It may be time to leave.

- Closer.

Reducing our size further and by several orders of magnitude, we descend into a microscopic level of existence. Here too, life is in great abundance, even more than the previous level we occupied. Don't worry, we are safe. When a human researcher observes our current level beneath a microscope, its appearance is largely two-dimensional. Of course that isn't at all what we see around us. Aspergillus, a kind of mold, appears to our right in green and gold layers. The layers are coupled together in a strange way that looks like more plant life, but in actuality, it is a symbiotic relationship with columns of living microbial entities. The layers sparkle, shiver and move ever so slightly, as they grow and shrink with ever-fluctuating temperature and moisture conditions. The things that seem to float about are actually microscopic-level droplets of water. There, one of them has splashed against you. Unlike the other lifeforms here, you are not porous enough to absorb the moisture.

The filtered light from the forest canopy vanishes suddenly, but only for a moment, as an aphid passes overhead. And yet the blockage of light was not caused by the aphid's body, but by one of its feet. There has been uncommonly-heavy rainfall recently, for there are marooned microscopic water creatures here. A few can adapt to their drastically changed environment. Let’s step quickly away from that blue one. Its whip-like, speckled cilia undulate, as it moves toward us. Perhaps it senses our presence, and means to feed.

- Closer.

We now have a greater distance to go. From our first position in the blackness of space, we’ve traveled a long way to come to this planet. Now, relative to our next reduction in physical size, we must travel even further. It is a great distance to be traveled from the microscopic to the molecular level. But we continue to move with extreme and purposeful speed, far more quickly than even the speed of thought.

At our new level, we both stare in awe, although I have been here before. Shapes. From this vantage point we are just about the size of the larger molecules in this area. The light of day from the solar system's nuclear core that had illuminated everything from outer space to microbes, is not even perceptible to us here. True, the energy from it can and does affect this level. From the perspective of the scientist it will affect the rates of vibration of molecules, the thermal energy of materials. But from our perspective it will only gradually affect the lazy expansion and contraction of these objects, before us and around us, and it's so gradual, we won't notice it. That is because there is a time differential. I hesitate to call it “time”since it is more like a indescribably massive difference in the rates at which things occur. I don't know of a single word for that. Look. Indescribable, is it not? And yet, we must try.

Obviously, these molecules, at least, are anything but packed together. Each is well-separated from the others. Each glows, and pulses, and roils within. From our perspective, they definitely generate their own light. It seems they surely must be alive; it is all a matter of our perspective. And from a human perspective, these particular molecules are mere starches. Those closest to us revolve ever so slowly, their patterns of structure unfamiliar to us, but arranged in a radiating star pattern, composed of many different elemental molecules. Lets take a closer look at that one, over there.

From above, we can see the overall shape, with radiating arms from a central core, where it appears brightest. But from here, where we are viewing it edge-on, its thickness is not nearly as great as its diameter. Each of the radiating arms is more than one sugar molecule, and each of them are slightly different from the other.  It's beauty is almost unimaginable! I can see by the look on your face, you agree. You may not be ready to move, but there is so much more to see. We must go.

- Closer.

We're getting even smaller, but we're moving just a bit less quickly this time. There are things to see on the way in. I don't mean to frighten you, but I think you deserve to see what we are passing. As we now enter the nearest sugar molecule, certain of its characteristics are revealed to us. Becoming ever smaller in size, we zoom into what had appeared to be glowing tendrils, but these are obviously far more complex. We slow again, and come to a stop, just for a moment or two.

What you see spread before you in the apparent blackness, are nucleosides. This is but one small area within this particular molecule. And yet, to us, it is vast. Look at that area over there. See anything that looks familiar? No?

- Closer.

How about now?

Do these not look like clouds of stars?

 - Closer.

There you are.

- Closer.

We have now reached a point where most scientific minds will no longer even consider what we know we are seeing. For all intents and purposes, we are looking right at a spiral galaxy of stars, with untold others beyond, and all about. For we now are approaching the atomic level of matter. You and I are seeing in a way that could never, ever be produced by any scientific means. Forget about its complete “impossibility”. We're here to see, not to theorize.

- Closer.

We are now entering one of the spiral arms of the nearest cloud. They do look like stars, don't they? In order to appreciate fully what is here, we must become, shall we say, almost a bit less than nothing, from a human perspective. And yet, here we are. Let’s move even

- Closer.

We have nearly completed our journey. Now you can see the nucleus of an atom. To a scientist it is composed of a few identifiable things, protons, neutrons. To us, it looks relatively solid. It looks like a star. A nuclear furnace. Like our sun. And what is that over there?

Look to the right.

Far off in the blackness spread before us, a tiny, blue-white object sparkles. Its planetary brilliance is due to light reflected directly from the shimmering star of its origin.

You see, scientists are human. They are quite sure that at this level, electrical charges take over; what they are saying is, it's all about energy. That's fine; from their point of view, that's what is apparent. But if one could inhabit this level, it is not. A simple statement perhaps. If you cannot do what we have just done, then perhaps there really is no way to know. Dr. Einstein was right again; quantum theory can’t be right. They wave their hands in the air en masse, trying to describe how one subatomic bit of energy can be in more places than one. How is it, do you suppose, none have factored in the difference in the rates at which things occur, at the level they are attempting to observe? The all-pervasive lattice that connects everything, on each level? Perhaps they need an acronym. How about “absolute subatomic event-rate differential”? - ABSERD. They'll embrace that one, ironically.

General acceptance of ambiguity and paradox has come far too early in the discovery process. For the question should not be, "What would exist if not the universe?" but rather, "Does it?" And, like all questions asked in earnest, there will be an answer.

Never forget what you've seen. A being, living on that object over there, for all intents and purposes at this level, a planet, could live and die a hundred billion lifetimes before you move from your bed to your kitchen to get a cup of morning coffee. This plane of existence is but one. Consider fractal geometry. Read the book. It does not simply lay flat, nor is it merely three dimensional.

It stands on end, my friend.

And yet, we have dared to speak of “infinity”. We have no idea. Not even you, or I.

- Blink once.

You are now back in the comfort of your bed. I do hope you remember this dream. Because in fact it was far more than that. The moment of true awakening is overdue.

It's “time;” pun intended. Your coffeemaker has started.

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copyright 2013, 2023

Benjamin Trayne