- By Quirks
By Bob McDonald, host of the CBC science radio program Quirks & Quarks.
Famous physicist Stephen Hawking gave a public talk recently at thePerimeter Institute in Waterloo, Ont. - an event that demonstrated how time is a flexible medium, in more ways than one.
As the iconic professor was wheeled onto the stage (his body has been paralyzed by ALS), his twinkling eyes scanned the audience and he gave us a small crooked smile. Before him, mounted on the arm of his wheelchair, a large computer screen and special program enables him to speak through a voice synthesizer, which has become his now-famous electronic voice.
"Can you hear me?" he asks. The audience responds in the affirmative and we are treated to 45 minutes of his life story, illustrated with slides projected on a large screen above the stage.
He spoke of his early years, his interest in black holes and how he developed the theory of Hawking Radiation, where black holes can evaporate into nothingness over time. He described his current work on quantum gravity and the initial conditions of the universe, where quantum fluctuations gave way to the Big Bang and the birth of everything from galaxies to humans thinking about galaxies. (I think I understood about half of this portion of the lecture.)
But there was more to the presentation than Professor Hawking's fascinating world of warped space-time, uncertainties and particles spontaneously popping in and out of existence. Seeing him in person was an insight into his daily world, where time sometimes seems to come to a standstill.
Midway through the presentation, the voice synthesizer went silent. So did the audience. Was there a technical problem with the computer? His personal technician went on stage, whispered in his ear, and then sat down again. The computer was fine. Stephen was editing his speech on the fly.
Now, many speakers pause during a speech to re-organize their presentation, but pauses seldom last more than 10 seconds or so, usually filled with silly comments like, "Now where was I?" But that doesn't happen with Stephen Hawking. He doesn't move and doesn't speak because he can't.
More than a minute, perhaps even two minutes, of silence slowly creep by while his eye scans the screen in front of him. An eye tracker mounted on his glasses moves the cursor to the position he stares at, then after scrolling through a menu and selecting the appropriate paragraph he wishes to say, he twitches his cheek to trigger another sensor on the side of his face to proceed. The lecture continued as though nothing had happened.
How ironic that a man with a mind that reaches across the universe and back to the beginning of time appears trapped in a body so still. But that's an illusion.
In fact, Stephen Hawking is incredibly mobile, despite the disease that many believed would take his life decades ago. The last slide in his presentation was of himself, floating weightless in a zero-G aircraft. During his visit to Canada, he took a trip on the Maid of the Mist tour boat at Niagara Falls, and continues to travel the world giving public lectures and conducting research.
Not only is his research on the cutting edge of science, he uses cutting-edge science to deal with his physical limitations.
I had the supreme privilege to speak to Professor Hawking during dinner after the event. I sat close and looked into those blue eyes, trying to fathom the universe as he sees it. I told him that I had flown on the same zero-G aircraft he did and what a thrilling experience it was to float weightless like an astronaut. He smiled at me.
I said, "I never thought I would have something in common with Stephen Hawking. Perhaps we'll meet again in space."
He smiled once more.
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