Cambridge, 21st June 2014
Time does not exist. You, the last of the magicians knew that.
"Why did the apple fall?" you asked, didn't you, Isaac? And from that, in a leap of mathematical brilliance, you developed an entire language to describe how things change. Why a pendulum swings. Why planets circle the sun. Why apples fall to earth. Your calculus answered so many Whys? that greats like Kepler, Galileo and Hooke could not. I wonder what was going on in your mind when you had the courage to say that time does not exist. That it merely explains how things change. Just as words explain how I feel. I can't pick up those words and eat them, can I, Isaac? Where were you when you had your flash? Walking in these Cambridge gardens? Trying to explain these things to a young student? Ah! Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.
You are a strange man, Newton. Straddling an era of dark arts and an age of science. Seeking the magick of the Temple of Solomon; trying to transmute lead into gold. But tell me one thing before you go. After you'd worked so hard to get parliament to offer a prize for determining Longitude at sea, why did you never award it? Surely Harrison deserved it. Where have you gone, Isaac? Is that the one Why? you can't answer?
"Monsieur Huguens un des plus grands homes de notre temps"