As what is to follow relates to the growing difficulties of local time and a proposed method of overcoming them, let us recapitulate:—

My proposal is to throw local time out totally and establish one, invariable, universal time. Greenwich time being most in use now, and meridians numbered from it, may be taken in preference to any other. Still another reason is that the most important timekeepers in modern life—ship's chronometers—are set to Greenwich time. Universal time—no local time—only local day and night. Our 24-hour system is all right, so do not disturb it, as it gets rid of A.M. and P.M. and makes the day our unit of time. Our railroad time now throws out local time to the extent of one hour; but I propose to throw it out entirely and never change the clock hands from Greenwich time. The chronometers do that now, so let us conduct all business to that time.

Now refer to [Fig. 46], in which Greenwich is taken as universal time. The annulus, half white and half black, indicates the average day and night, and is a separate ring in the dial which can be set so that “noon” is on the meridian of the place, as shown for four places in the illustration. It is the same dial in all four cases set to local day and night. Strictly, the local time conception is dropped and the local day left for regulating working and sleeping time. All business would have the same time. In traveling east we would not have the short hours; or west, the long hours. All clocks and watches would show the same time as ship's chronometers do now. The only change would be the names of the hours for the parts of the local day. This is just the difficulty, for we are so accustomed to associate a certain number, as seven, with the morning and breakfast time. Suppose breakfast time in London is 7 o'clock, then according to the local day it would be 12 o'clock breakfast time in New York; but in both cases it would be the same time with reference to the local daylight. Let it be distinctly understood that our association of 12 o'clock with noon is not necessary. The Japanese called it “horse” and “nine”—the ancient Romans, the New Testament writers, and the Turks called it the “sixth hour”—the astronomers now call it 24 o'clock, and the Chinese represent it by several characters; but, in all cases, it is simply the middle of the day at any place. By the proposed universal time, morning, noon, and evening would be—at any given place—the same hours. There would be no necessity of establishing legal noon with exactness to the meridian, because that would only regulate labor, meals, etc., and would not touch universal time. This is an important part of the proposal and is worth elaborating a little. Sections in manufacturing districts could make their working hours correspond at pleasure and no confusion would result. That is, local working hours to convenience but by the same universal time. Note how perfectly this would work in traveling,—you arrive in Chicago from the effete east and your watch corresponds all along with the railroad clocks. As you leave the station you glance up at the clock and see that Chicago noon is 17.30, so you set the day and night ring of your watch to match the same ring on the clock, but no disturbance of the hands. As you register at the hotel you ask,—dinner? and get answer, 24.30—then breakfast, 12.30. These questions are necessary now, so I do not add complication here. When you arrive in a strange city you must ask about meals, business hours, theater hours, “doors open” hours, etc., etc.; so all this remains the same. Let us put the matter forcibly,—while we count days, or dates, something must vary with east and west; I propose the fixing of hours for business and sleep to suit each locality, but an invariable time. Get rid of the idea that a certain number, as 7 o'clock, represents the age of the day at all places. See how this would wipe out the silly proposal to “save daylight” by setting the clock back and forward. Suppose workmen commenced at 12.30 in New York; for the long summer days make it 11.30, but no change in universal time. As this is the only difference from our present time system, keep the central conception, firmly,—universal time—local day and night.

[LOI]

Fig. 46—Universal Time Dial Set for Four Places

Suppose Chicago decided that “early to bed and early to rise” was desirable; then it could establish its legal noon as 17.30, which would be about 20 minutes early for its meridian. You could do business with Chicago for a lifetime and not find this out, unless you looked up the meridian of Chicago and found that it was 17.50 o'clock. None of the railroads or steamship lines of the city would need to know this, except as a matter of scientific curiosity, for the time tables would all be printed in universal time. For hiring labor, receiving and delivering goods, etc., they would only need to know Chicago business hours. To state the matter in different words,—Chicago would only need to decide what portion of the universal 24 hours would suit it best for its day and which for its night, and if it decided, as supposed above, to place its working day forward a little to give some daylight after labor, nothing would be disturbed and only the scientific would ever know. Certainly, “save daylight,” but do not make a fool of the clock! Having shown the great liberty which localities could take without touching the working of the system, the same remarks apply to ultra-scientific localities. A city might establish its noon to the instant; so it is possible—even if a little improbable—that the brilliant and scientific aldermen of New York might appoint a commission with proper campfollowers and instrument bearers to determine the longitude of the city to the Nth of a second and tell us where we “are at.” The glory of this achievement—and especially its total cost—would be all our own and incorruptible time would be untouched! We thus see that great local freedom and great accuracy are alike possible. With our present system, accuracy in local time is impracticable and has never even been attempted, and is confusion confused since we added the railroad hour jumps. Why did we nurse this confusion till it has become almost intolerable? Because man has always been a slave to mental associations, and habits. Primitive man divided the local day into parts and gave them names and this mental attitude sticks to us after it has served its day. The advantages of universal time could hardly be enumerated, yet we can have them all by dropping our childish association of 7 o'clock with breakfast time! Another example,—you visit a friend for a few days and on retiring the first night you ask “what is your breakfast hour”—“8 o'clock.” You have to ask this question and recollect the answer. Now tell me what difference it would make if the answer had been 13 o'clock? None whatever, unless, perhaps, that is, you do not like thirteen! You ask, how about ships? Ships now carry universal time and only change the clock on deck to please the simple minded passengers. How about the date line? No change whatever, so long as we use dates which means numbering local days. It is useless multiplying examples; all difficulties disappear, as if by magic, the moment we can free our minds of local time and the association of the same hour with the same portion of the day at all places. The great interest at present manifested in the attempts to reach the North Pole calls for some consideration of universal time in the extreme north. Commencing at the equator, it is easy to see that the day and night ring, [Fig. 46], would represent the days and nights of 12 hours at all seasons. As we go north, however, this ring represents the average day and night. When we reach the Polar Circle, still going north, the daily rising and setting of the sun gradually ceases till we reach the great one-year day at the Pole, consisting of six months darkness and six months light. Let us now assume that an astronomical observatory is established here and the great equatorial placed precisely on the pole. At this point, local time, day and night, and the date line, almost cease to have a meaning. For this very reason universal time would be the only practical method; therefore, it more than stands the test of being carried to the extreme. Universal time would regulate working and sleeping here the same as at all other places. Strictly local time in this observatory would be an absurdity, because in walking around the telescope (pole) you would be in all instants of the 24 hours within five seconds! At the pole the day would commence at the same instant as at some assumed place, and the day and night ring would represent working and sleeping as at that place. Suppose this observatory to be in telegraphic communication with New York, then it would be best for the attendants to set their day and night to New York, so as to correspond with its business hours. Many curious suppositions might be made about this polar observatory with its “great night” and equally “great day.” It is evident that to keep count of itself it would be compelled to note dates and 24-hour days to keep in touch with us; so it would be forced to adopt the local day of some place like New York. This choice would be free, because a polar observatory would stand on all the meridians of the earth at once.

We are now in a position to consider the next possible—and even probable—improvement in our clocks and watches. To minimize the next step it might be well to see what we can do now. Clocks are often regulated by electric impulses over wires. Electricians inform me that they can do this by wireless; but that owing to the rapid attenuation of the impulses it cannot be done commercially, over great distances. In the history of invention the first step was to do something and then find a way of doing it cheaply enough for general use. So far as I know, the watch in the wearer's pocket has not yet been regulated by wireless; but I am willing to risk the statement that the editor of Popular Mechanics can name more than one electrician who can do this. A watch to take these impulses might be larger than our present watches, but it would not stay larger and would ultimately become much smaller. You know what has happened since the days of the big “onions” described in the third chapter. [Fig. 34]; so get your electric watch and make it smaller at your leisure. We have made many things commercially practicable, which looked more revolutionary than this. Now throw out the mainspring, wheels, pinions, etc., of our watches and reduce the machinery part to little more than dial and hands and do the driving by wireless, say, once every minute. I feel certain that I am restraining the scientific imagination in saying that the man lives among us who can do this. I repeat, that we now possess the elementary knowledge—which if collated and applied—would produce such a watch.

Now I have a big question to ask—the central note of interrogation in this little scientific conversation with you,—does the man live who can make the earth automatically record its rotation? Do not be alarmed, for I am prepared to make a guess as to this possibility. A direct mechanical record of the earth's rotation seems hopeless, but let us see what can be done. You are aware that some of the fixed stars have a distinct spectrum. It is not unreasonable to suppose that an instrument could be made to record the passage of such a star over the meridian. Ah, but you say, there is no mechanical force in this. Do not hurry, for we have long been acquainted with the fact that things which, apparently, have no force can be made to liberate something which manifests mechanical force. We could now start or stop the greatest steam engine by a gleam of sunlight, and some day we might be able to do as much by the lately discovered pressure of light. That is, we can now liberate the greatest forces by the most infinitesimal, by steps; the little force liberating one greater than itself, and that one another still greater. A good example is the stopping of an electric train, from a distance, by wireless. The standard clock in Philadelphia, previously referred to, is a delicate instrument and its most delicate part, having the least force, moves a little valve every minute, and by several steps liberates the air pressure, 200 feet higher in the tower, to move the four sets of great hands. I am not traveling beyond the record when I say that the invisible actinic rays could be used to liberate a great force; therefore what is there unreasonable in the supposition that the displacement of the sodium line in the spectrum of a star might be made to record the earth's rotation? So I say to the electrician—the optician—the photographer—the chemist and the mechanic.—get together and produce this watch. Permit me, with conventional and intentional modesty, to name the new timepiece Chroncosmic. For pocket use, it would be Cosmic watch. In the first chapter I allowed to the year 2,000 for the production of this watch, but it is likely we will not need to wait so long.