If time Freeze's when the earth Stop rotating. Why doesn't it happen in space crafts?

[CaptainGreedEye]

This Has been On my mind ever since some said this to me. Think about it. If I get a house Size Spear Shaped ant farm and Put in space And Prevent it From Rotating, Do the ants in the farm Freeze in time? If not, why?

 

[Spike]

THE WHAT?

 

[RageBurner]

Sorry for answering with a question, but is this a serious question?

 

[Inkingsama]

I don't understand the question. Are you asking about time dilation or if the ants will freeze in space? If it is the latter, no, the ants won't freeze because in space there is nothing for the to ant to transfer their body heat to.

 

[ATenderLad]

This is the only peer-reviewed study I could find on the topic:

 

[Waffles]

I'm glad I wasn't the only one who didn't quite get it.

 

[freebie#47]

Time is a concept created by man. Also the concept of time is not based on the rotation of an object, or planet in your case. There are theories based on gravity, but it was quickly debunked. Also for relevance, "Freezing" also doesn't stop "time". All matter still decomposes even at absolute zero temperatures.

 

[RageBurner]

This is the only peer-reviewed study I could find on the topic:

This, sir, is pure gold.

 

[chrismas]

Forgetting the title,

This Has been On my mind ever since some said this to me. Think about it. If I get a house Size Spear Shaped ant farm and Put in space without it moving around, Do the ants Freeze? If not, why?

If it's a normal ant farm (you don't get to say it isn't, by the way) the ants may or may not freeze, as in, lose all their heat, depending on whether or not they're consistently exposed to the sun or some other hot body (star). They'll still die really quickly due to no air and especially no pressure.

 

[moonbits]

a bit early to be hittin the zaza my dude

 

[Gorse]

To my beloved CaptainGreedEye, on this wintery December night,

Good evening, dear Captain. I wish you well, and pray that London's great fire has spared you and your mighty crew. I am writing to answer your recent inquiry, which came across my desk not thirty minutes earlier, as of writing. Your pursuit of knowledge in affairs of the pan-geological sort are, as always, welcomed and warmly received.

In regards to the matter of our mighty world's astronomical pause, it is my great pleasure to quell your fear. If this warm, wet, verdant Earth of ours were to stop on its axis (as one might upon hearing the untimely news of a lover's abrupt death, as my colleague Winslow was recently party this August past) I assure you that time would continue, as per usual.

Disasters and calamities would abound, yes! Our land would quake, our skies would darken. Amphitrite, devil-goddess of the sea, would rend apart her equatorial lips – as beautiful as they are terrifying! – and doubtlessly swallow your entire fleet of merchant-vessels. And yet the grain of sand would continue to flow through the hourglass, as if nothing had happened at all.

Directing for a moment to your mention of a theoretical lunar terrarium – a sea-born fantasy, to be sure! – please do realize that even this incredible craft, regardless of its station on or above terra firma, would be subject to Chronos' whims, as the slightest insect. As you or I.

I do hope this message finds you well, brave Captain, bold Captain. Forgive me for again reiterating my sincerest privilege at being of service to you. Fare well on your travels, and remember your home is always in London.

Warmest Regards,
Professor Gorse G. Gorseford, PHD
Astronomy Offices, University of Oxford
London, Great Britain
Evening of December 9th, 1871

​

Gorse, his hands trembling, tucked the parchment into its envelope, fastened it with string, and shot out of his office, leaving the withering gaslamp untouched. The last seabound messenger was set to leave at a quarter past eight, and he had but a few scant minutes to cross nearly two acres in the frigid English wind.

"Wait! Wait", he cried, holding the letter to his dearest companion aloft. "Please, you must wait! I have an important message! A message for the Captain!" The mailman, atop his horse-drawn carriage-bus, raised his eyebrows and snatched the note from Gorse's hand. "Give me that!", he snapped. The man's eyes ran across the name on the envelope, and widened.

"My god," the mailman said. "CaptainGreedEye. His ship leaves tonight."

The man looked down at Gorse, seeing the worry in his eyes and the fear in his face, and nodded. "I'll do my best, professor." The horse was whipped, and off the cart shot into the dark London sky.

Gorse stood there, watching it, and – contrary to his standing as a man of science – prayed it would arrive.

 

[CaptainGreedEye]

View attachment 3505To my beloved CaptainGreedEye, on this wintery December night,

Good evening, dear Captain. I wish you well, and pray that London's great fire has spared you and your mighty crew. I am writing to answer your recent inquiry, which came across my desk not thirty minutes earlier, as of writing. Your pursuit of knowledge in affairs of the pan-geological sort are, as always, welcomed and warmly received.

In regards to the matter of our mighty world's astronomical pause, it is my great pleasure to quell your fear. If this warm, wet, verdant Earth of ours were to stop on its axis (as one might upon hearing the untimely news of a lover's abrupt death, as my colleague Winslow was recently party this August past) I assure you that time would continue, as per usual.

Disasters and calamities would abound, yes! Our land would quake, our skies would darken. Amphitrite, devil-goddess of the sea, would rend apart her equatorial lips – as beautiful as they are terrifying! – and doubtlessly swallow your entire fleet of merchant-vessels. And yet the grain of sand would continue to flow through the hourglass, as if nothing had happened at all.

Directing for a moment to your mention of a theoretical lunar terrarium – a sea-born fantasy, to be sure! – please do realize that even this incredible craft, regardless of its station on or above terra firma, would be subject to Chronos' whims, as the slightest insect. As you or I.

I do hope this message finds you well, brave Captain, bold Captain. Forgive me for again reiterating my sincerest privilege at being of service to you. Fare well on your travels, and remember your home is always in London.

Warmest Regards,
Professor Gorse G. Gorseford, PHD
Astronomy Offices, University of Oxford
London, Great Britain
Evening of December 9th, 1871

​

Gorse, his hands trembling, tucked the parchment into its envelope, fastened it with string, and shot out of his office, leaving the withering gaslamp untouched. The last seabound messenger was set to leave at a quarter past eight, and he had but a few scant minutes to cross nearly two acres in the frigid English wind.

"Wait! Wait", he cried, holding the letter to his dearest companion aloft. "Please, you must wait! I have an important message! A message for the Captain!" The mailman, atop his horse-drawn carriage-bus, raised his eyebrows and snatched the note from Gorse's hand. "Give me that!", he snapped. The man's eyes ran across the name on the envelope, and widened.

"My god," the mailman said. "CaptainGreedEye. His ship leaves tonight."

The man looked down at Gorse, seeing the worry in his eyes and the fear in his face, and nodded. "I'll do my best, professor." The horse was whipped, and off the cart shot into the dark London sky.

Gorse stood there, watching it, and – contrary to his standing as a man of science – prayed it would arrive.

Pure Cinema. thank you.

Post automatically merged: Dec 10, 2024

This is the only peer-reviewed study I could find on the topic:

This is what I meant!

Post automatically merged: Dec 10, 2024

Sorry for answering with a question, but is this a serious question?

No. But I hoped Someday A genius would answer my question.