Time

We begin at the Event Horizon, a boundary where the future becomes unavoidable. From this cosmic edge, we find our first local clock: the Moon, whose phases gave humanity its earliest sense of shared time.

Observation turned to action. At Nabta Playa, we dragged stones across the desert to lock the drifting stars into a fixed geometry, creating the first machine to capture the year.

Stone circles evolved into ink and paper. The Dresden Codex mapped deep time, tracking eclipses and cycles that spanned millennia, turning the sky into a readable text of destiny.

Time became internal as well as external. The Kalachakra Mandala visualizes time not as a line, but as a palace—a complex wheel where every moment is a room to be entered.

We realized that matter itself keeps time. Carbon-14 decay allows us to bypass memory and read the age of the world directly from its bones.

Some clocks are alive. The Bristlecone Pine stands as a silent witness to five thousand years of history, enduring while civilizations rise and fall around its roots.

For most of history, we thought seeing was instant. Rømer's observations of Jupiter proved that light takes time to travel—meaning we are always looking into the past.

This delay is not a flaw, but a law. The speed of light is the cosmic speed limit, the hard boundary that structures causality and prevents everything from happening at once.

At the end of the line, physics breaks down. The Singularity represents the point where time as we know it ceases to function—a final, infinite question mark.