Ever wanted to travel back in time? Astrophysicist Ron Mallett thinks you might be able to. Uh huh. Excerpt:
Joining the ranks of movie inventors like Doc Brown of “Back to the Future” are a few real-life scientists currently trying to realize the dream of turning back the clock to travel to the ultimate destination.
Among them is Ron Mallett, an astrophysicist who has dedicated much of his adult life to the notion that time travel is possible. He’s come up with the scientific equations and principles upon which he says a time machine could be created.
While acknowledging that his theories and designs are unlikely to allow time travel in his lifetime, for years he’s been working in parallel to a respected academic career to fulfill his dream of venturing back in time to see his beloved father again.
Mallett was aged 10 when his father died suddenly, of a heart attack, an event that the scientist says changed the track of his life forever.
“For me, the sun rose and set on him, he was just the center of things,” he tells CNN Travel. “Even today, after all of these years, there’s still an unreality about it for me.”
Mallett’s father, a TV repair man, instilled in his son a love of reading, and encouraged his budding passion for science. About a year after his father’s death, a grieving Mallett stumbled across an illustrated version of the classic sci-fi novel “The Time Machine.”
“The book that changed my life,” he says.
Color me skeptical. Not necessarily on Mallett’s personal story; but rather on his assessment of the possibility of traveling back in time. Now I’m not an astrophysicist, nor do I play one on television, but I do read a lot about a variety of topics. Time travel into the future is possible; we all do it, every moment, at the rate of one minute per minute. You can speed that up; all you have to do is go out into space and buzz around at nearly the speed of light for, say, a year, then come back to find several years have passed on Earth.
I feel for Ron Mallett and the loss of his father. I lost my own father not too long ago, and it’s not something you can ever really recover from; it’s still hard for me when it hits me that the great, solid, immovable, stable boulder at the center of my young life is gone now.
I haven’t launched into flights of fancy over it. But, I suppose, whatever brings a body some measure of comfort and peace of mind, eh?
Although… If this ever did work… Anyone up for a safari into the Cretaceous? I think I could find room on a wall for a tyrannosaur head.