- A General Theory of Time - Amateur Radio Station -- K1TMA Alvah Buckmore, Jr., 18 Tannery Road, Westfield, Massachusetts 01084-4822

An Introduction
to
A General Theory of Time
(deriving from work in small-arms ballistics)
(An Introduction to Time Physics)
Copyright @ Alvah Buckmore, Jr., 1978-2003

Introduction -

It was in the mid-summer of the year 1978, during some experiments on the differences of the extreme spread of muzzle velocity and standard deviation, between relatively fast burning gun-powders and relatively slow burning gun-powders, to determine if these patterns of extreme spreads and standard deviations would correspond with the Asymptotic Function of
z = 1/x, when I had started an endless study of the effects and characteristics of sun-light over a bullet's flight path, time and time of flight.

I had noticed some time earlier the smallest extreme spread and standard deviation for any distribution of scores, in any group of shots, were always smaller with fast-burning gun-powders in small-capacity handgun cartridges than with very slow-burning gun-powders in large-capacity high-power rifle cartridges.  As I increased either the cartridge capacity or the amount of gun-powder in the cartridge cast -- for any given set of ballistic parameters -- both the extreme spread (between the lowest velocity to the highest velocity) and the standard deviation (representing the average deviation from the central tendency in the distribution of scores), for any given group, would also increase pursuant to a pattern I perceived as similar -- if not identical -- to the patterns and relationships in the Asymptotic Function.

In that summer of 1978 it was my original intent to either prove or disprove such a relationship between this ballistic phenomenon and the Asymptotic Function.  If no such relationship were to exit, then it was my intent to identify the phenomenon and to work out the relationships mathematically toward the development of a new theory in the Science of Ballistics.

However, during parts of this scientific investigation, I ran into some serious interruptions which lead me astray for the next few years.

Interruptions -

It started innocently.  I was minding my own business.  Early that morning I had put everything into the back of my car and drove down to the shooting range, the Westfield Sportsman's Club in Westfield, Massachusetts.

It was a bright and sunny day; with a small gentle breeze for a wind; a temperature of 72-75 degrees F and a relative humidity of less than 50%.

As I drove into the shooting range area of the Club, I immediately noticed a great deal of shooting activity.  Every range was in use, including the Pistol Range, the Rifle Range, the Shotgun Range and the Plinking Range.  I selected the Pistol Range when I found several people in the Plinking and Rifle Range busy with their noisy automatic weapons, principally the AR-15 derivative of the U.S. Army's M-16, M-16A1 and M-16A2.  Another man had the semi-automatic version of the AKM, a derivative of the AK-47.

One man was shooting at a 12-inch diameter metallic target at 200 yards in a standing, off-hand position with the AR-15.

He was using a 30-round "banana" magazine and fired in a rapid-fire sequential pattern, "BANG! .....(ping!)  BANG! .....
(ping!)  BANG! ....(ping!)  BANG! .........(miss)  BANG! .....(ping!)  BANG! .....(ping!)" ...., and so on. ...

When he ran out of ammunition in his 30-round magazine, he would stop just long enough to remove it from the magazine-well and to reload another magazine in it.  Then he would reassume his original position; re-aim and fire, "BANG! ...
(ping!)  BANG! .....(miss)  BANG! ..... (ping!)  BANG! ...... (miss)."

The sound "ping" is the sound representing the bullet striking the metal target and, of course, "miss" represents his missing the target.

It's a lot of fun and I thoroughly enjoy shooting in this way; however, in this instance, the constant noise was a source of irritation and interruption to my work.  So I made every effort to mentally block it out of my mind.

Shortly after I had finished setting up the electronic chronograph and other equipment in order to perform my experiments,
two cars came rolling up to the Pistol Range; one pulled up to my left and the other to my right.  Both drivers were men; middle-age and active shooters in the Westfield community.  One -- on the left -- I knew very well and the other I didn't know at all.

Both men had brought out a great deal of equipment and immediately began to set up their positions.

When I was ready, I fired a shot through the chronograph screens with my .44 Magnum revolver in order to measure the muzzle velocity and to record it in my log.  The bullet struck a beer bottle about 100 yards down-range.  I put it there!  It was one bottle out of two "6-packs" of very old beer I had put there to serve as targets.  Upon impact it exploded.

While the man on the left had ignored me for his work, the man on my right had stopped all activity to watch me, obviously in horror of my shooting beer bottles -- with beer still in them -- and, although I could easily intuitively perceive his reaction and the reason for it, I had consciously chosen to completely ignore him.  If he had had anything to say to me about my shooting beer bottles, with real beer in them, then I would leave it up to him to articulate it to me, I said to myself as I brought up the gun to fire a second shot.

Still in horror of my inhumanity to beer, while walking or milling about in a nervous circle, nervously talking to himself and unable to shoot his own guns, I observed to my left some nervous irritation on the part of my friend.  He was angry with him-
self for his apparent lack of perfection.  I could relate with him.  I go through that experience every day of my life.  Out of politeness to him, I stopped my experiment for the moment to ask him for the reason behind hi irritation.

His answer altered the rest of my life.

He said he had been experimenting with a series of loads for several weeks and, in spite of his extraordinary efforts to ensure extreme consistency in the way he had manufactured his ammunition, he was unable to get consistent results.  The groups, he said, would vary significantly from day to day, and even hour to hour.

He showed me his paperwork.

He was shooting a 200 grain bullet out of a .357 Magnum single-shot, high-precision handgun at a metallic target of about 4 inches in diameter at a distance down-range of about 25 yards.

His target was mounted in a rail-road configuration.  Every time the bullet struck the metal target, the kinetic energy from the bullet transferring into the target would cause the target to move backwards on its rail-road tracks.  Then he would walk down to the target to measure the distance of rearward travel with a yardstick.  Once he will have recorded this data in his log, he would go back to his shooting station to fire another shot.

I read his log. It was extensive!

With each shot he recorded the muzzle velocity, kinetic energy at the muzzle, weight of bullet, type of primer, type of cartridge cast, type of gun-powder, amount of gun-powder, type of lubricant, amount of lubricant and distance of target travel, among other things, including time of day, position of the Sun and temperature.

So, in spite of a standard deviation of less than 10 feet per second -- a very, very good and low Sd -- the distance of target travel varied enormously (he thought!) every day, particularly in contrast between the measurements he took in the early morning of each day to the measurements early or late in the afternoon.

As I walked back to my own shooting station to continue my own experiments, I looked up at the sky; saw the Sun and its relative position for the moment; looked back at him to find him still angry, frustrated and confused with his raw experimental data; and then back up at the sky, the Sun, clouds, mountains, trees in the distance, and immediately consciously felt the solar energy radiating from the Sun and re-radiating from the ground.  Suddenly, I could intuitively feel tons of data transmitting to my brain for further analysis.

The man to my right scratched his head, as if he were trying to muster courage, and walked over to my shooting station again and asked, "Do you really have to shoot at beer bottles with real beer in them?"

His question was almost an ultimatum of some kind!

Now in a state of acute irritation, due to all that background noise and the heavy sensation of intuitive thought and experience, I retorted, "Yes! I do have to shoot at beer bottles with real beer in them.  However, the beer in the beer bottles is approximately 15 years old and therefore not drinkable.  Okay?"

"Ohhhhh!", he said while rubbing his stomach, "I thought the beer was drinkable ... you sure?  You see -- I love beer!"

"Yes", I said, "I'm sure ... this beer has been in my cellar for the last 15 years, originally as a results of a family reunion about that time, left over from my uncle Bob.  Okay?"

"Ooookay!", he rested with a smile, "I feel better now.  Thanks! You see -- I LOVE beer!"  I never saw him again for the rest of the day.

For several minutes from that moment in time I sat motionlessly on my shooting table just thinking about the totality of my experience.  Though at the time I certainly did not understand the relationships mathematically, I could intuitively recognize the significance of them.

Several flashbacks had also occurred; some of them dating back to my childhood days and, of course, although aware of the significance of the intellectual process and the relationships intuitively formed -- consciously and unconsciously -- I knew I would require a great deal of time before I will have been in an intellectual position to work out these relationships mathemati- cally or to establish a theory of time.  I knew these relationships had dealt with time.  I knew intuitively I had discovered the relationships to describe and to define the properties of time.  There was something special about time and indeed uniquely different about it which would immediately contradict logic, convention and even conventional common sense.

That I was sure!

But the raw data and real-time experience was simply much too massive for me to handle in a manner of a few minutes, a few hours or even a few days. Actually, it would takes years!

I had no idea I would eventually draw the conclusion time to be a physical entity and plasma with a small electrostatic charge to it with a density of approximately 3% less than that of dry air at 68 degree F.  Time turned out to be that physical (star) stuff emanating from the stars, including our own Sun. About 10 years later, in 1988, while reading some literature from the National Science Foundation, I learnt an American space probe, the Galileo I believe, had discovered a "plasma" in Outer Space.  Contrary to conventional wisdom, Outer Space is not empty or a vast void.  It contains a substance of an enormous size.  It is everywhere through-out the Universe.

I made these determinations intuitively.  Galileo made these discoveries through its instruments.  Then it became obvious Einstein was correct in his assertion Space and Time is the same thing. Slowly, everything was making sense!  Time is a physical entity; a plasma, and has mass, weight, volume and density.  Of course it is the same thing!  It has to be! Gradually, I began to realize the electrostatic charge in the plasma modulates the velocity of light traveling through the plasma, which explains the reason light travels faster in Outer Space than in a vacuum. It is also apparent this plasma may possess the physical attributes of a gigantic compact diskette to store data such as a history of cosmic and human events.

While rapidly going into a state of acute fatigue, still sitting motionlessly and staring aimlessly, I recall receiving a short flash-
back of the time I was about 5 years old.

I had never thought about it before then.  I was with my uncle Arthur and cousin LeRoy in the town of Durin, Maine. All
three of us had just walked from my house to the country general store, at least a good mile away.  Each of us had purchased
an ice cream cone and were licking it while walking back home.

About 200 or 300 yards from the general store, while walking back to my house, on an entirely impulsive act on my part, I suddenly left the road, my uncle Arthur and cousin LeRoy and shot up to the edge of a cliff parallel to the road.  Actually, the road cut into a mountain to leave sharp cliffs on both sides.

Within a few seconds, uncle Arthur demanded, ordered and then pleaded for me to return to the road.  I ignored him and continued until I was on top of the cliff.

It was a playful act on my part, certainly nothing dishonest or malicious.  As a child, I was happy and silly with the opportunity.  However, when I had arrived on top of the cliff, I felt fear from loneliness, or the loneliness from the distance
between the physical reality of the cliff and the physical reality of the road.  They were two different realities,  I could perceive.  The time on top of the cliff was different, colder and longer than the time on the road.  Until now I was never able to understand this perception.  Now everything made sense!

About that same time, while with my parents spending the night with an aunt of mine -- my father's sister, I believe -- I was
put to bed around 7 o'clock that evening.  Around 2 o'clock the following morning I got up to explore the house to find myself
in the dining room eating crackers while sitting on one of the dining room chairs and staring out of the window. Everyone had
gone to bed hours ago leaving  me alone in the room.  It was a well lit moonlight night and I could easily see the individual trees
across the street.  Again, I felt fear!  I could perceive a difference in the time lapse, of approximately 10 minutes, between the time of the day and the time of the night.  Time was colder and took longer to travel the distance of 10 minutes at that time then if it were 2 o'clock in the afternoon.  I ate the last of my crackers and immediately went back to bed, never saying a word to anyone.

For most of my life I have always felt physical reality to be much more complex than the available physical science could explain.  As an example, in the days of the main springs in windup wrist watches, there was always one enormous inconsist- ency I could never explain until now.  Every day, at the end of the day, before going to bed, I would take off my wrist watch
to re-wind it.  I would count the number of turns it would take to re-wind the main spring and quickly noticed it was never the
same number of turns each evening.  Actually, with approaching winter, it would be substantially more turns to re-wind the
main spring than with approaching summer.  In the middle of hot and muggy summers it might take one or two turns to completely re-wind the main spring.  However, in the middle of cold, windy and snowy winters, it could take 20 or 30 turns
to completely re-wind the main spring.  Why?  I continually asked myself this question.

Every morning I had an inflexible routine of getting up out of bed; going to the bathroom to do my morning constitution;
sponge bathing myself; brushing my teeth; combing my hair and shaving.  Yet, for some reason, even though the routine was precisely the same each day, it never took the same amount of time, as measured on my wrist watch.  With approaching winter, I noticed, there was a pattern:  It took more time to do it than with approaching summer. Again, why? Now I was beginning to
understand. With approaching winter, with each passing day, it took a little longer and, with each passing day with approaching
summer, it took a little less time. Corresponding with the longest day in winter, the wrist watch would require the greatest number of turns to re-wind it; then, with the shortest day of summer, it was rarely more than one or two turns. Finally, in 1988,
I worked out these relationships mathematically and started the development of a new science I call "Time Physics", which I
describe as the "scientific study of the physical properties of time."

In the following pages you will find copies of manuscripts I wrote out in 1987 through 1989 and notarized at the Westfield Co-operative Bank. Each page went through a scanner and the text converted into JPEG format, the same format we use in
digital camera. They are un-touched. If I made a mistake, then it is still there for you.

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