Dr. Philip Treisman Meets Isaac Newton in Surreal Space

Amanda Dulcinea Cuéllar

            It was an eerie black night in 1786 and 2004; the clouds moved restlessly overhead and the moon was nowhere to be seen. In this menacing atmosphere two men of learning labored over papers obscured with characters. As they both leaned back and rubbed their eyes in exhaustion a strange event took place. The Universal Order, tired of watching over his irresponsible children on earth, sat back as well, and for a moment became careless. It was in this rare moment of neglect that Isaac Newton and Dr. Philip Treisman found their parallel universes fused. For what seemed to them an eternity, but in actuality was merely a second, their beings were united in surreal space. Strange though this event may seem to the outside observer, to the two men involved it seemed quite natural that time should cease to separate them for this one instant.

            Puzzled by the sudden break in the humming of the air conditioner, Dr.
Treisman looked up from his desk only to find that his office in the Robert L. Moore building[1] at the University of Texas was missing a wall. The room was now joined to a small, rather antique looking cell cluttered with outdated laboratory equipment. Sitting with his back towards the fatigued pedagogue was a thin man with long grey hair in a high-backed wooden chair lined with dark fabric. Though the laboratory adjacent to Dr. Treisman’s office appeared messy, it was just the opposite. All of the equipment was neatly stored in cabinets and on shelves on the left wall. Other small items, including a bowl of fruit and delicate curved mirrors, were stored inside a wooden cabinet with glass doors in another corner of the chamber. The one window in the room was covered with heavy, dark drapes; the only light was provided by two candles on Newton’s desk. Dr. Treisman’s half of the room was a sharp contrast to Newton’s laboratory. Stacks of papers and tests waiting to be graded populated his desk and filled several boxes on the floor. Behind him was a bookcase full of mathematical journals and calculus textbooks.  A fluorescent light-fixture on the ceiling of the office provided an artificial white glow. Though the juxtaposition of Newton’s dim cell and Dr. Treisman’s bright office was quite odd, Dr. Treisman did not despair. He merely furrowed his brow and turned back to his desk. It was late, and he still had much to do.

            Meanwhile, Newton took little note of the extraordinary event that had just taken place at his back. He was engrossed in the task of writing a letter to Edmund Halley, the president of the Royal Society.[2] Although Newton had agreed previously to publish his theories about motion on earth and in space in a three-volume work entitled Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica,[3] he could no longer bear the criticism of Robert Hooke and other scientists who belittled his meticulous work. It had taken him years to create the proofs that Hooke rejected in less than four hours.[4] He was writing to inform Halley that he would not publish the third and final volume of his findings which contained almost literally the “secrets of the universe.”[5]        

“He ‘cannot see any undeniable argument to convince [him] of the certainty thereof,’[6] – humph-- I will not be ‘baited by little smatters in mathematics,’”[7] muttered Newton fiercely about Hooke as he worked.

            This caused Dr. Treisman to turn rapidly, and in his haste, knock a book off of his desk. Newton started at the sound of the fallen volume and for the first time looked behind him. Though he was surprised at the change in the room, frustration at having been bothered overcame his astonishment.

            “Who are you sir? I did not send for a gyp.[8] What are you doing in my chamber?” he snapped peevishly.   

“Gyp? What’s a gyp?” Dr. Tresiman wasn’t sure whether he should be flattered or offended by the term.

“Why a servant,” answered Newton in an exasperated tone, “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you and what is your business in my chamber?”

“I am Philip Treisman, a professor from the University of Texas, and I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here…” Dr. Treisman said examining his surroundings and rude host more closely.

“Forgive me; I thought Humphrey might have sent you up with supper. He is always intent on making me eat, seeing as I often forget to take my meals,”[9] said Newton in a distracted manner before he turned back to his parchment. Apparently he had not heard the end of Dr. Treisman’s response nor noticed that he was no longer in seventeenth century Cambridge.

Dr. Treisman, a friendly man by nature, was a bit confused by this small man’s curtness and most of all by his sudden appearance in his office.  

“And what might your name be?” he asked.

“I am Mr. Isaac Newton.”

“Mr. Newton! I am honored to make your acquaintance!” Dr. Treisman exclaimed and he walked enthusiastically over to shake the scientist’s hand, completely forgetting the oddness of the situation. “I’m actually a calculus professor; I truly admire your work, sir.”

“Calculus? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I forgot, you called it fluxions.”

Newton jumped up, obviously flustered. “What? How do you know of my fluxions? I have not made my theories public. Did Hooke send you? Is that lying dwarf trying to steal my work? Or did that traitor John Collins[10] tell you of my methods?[11] I knew I shouldn’t have allowed him to see my fluxions.  I will have all of you punished! I will report this to the Royal Society; you will pay for your treachery! Humphrey!” He called for his sizar[12] loudly, but Humphrey, the manservant, was alone in a parallel universe of his own and completely unaware of his employers strife.

“Wait a minute! I’m not here to steal anything. Everyone knows you invented calculus. Fluxions are taught everywhere now.”

Newton, still red-faced and trembling from the excitement, turned back to Dr. Treisman.

“What do you mean by ‘now’?”

“Well in 2004.”

“And everyone attributes this method to me?”

“Yes, everyone thinks you’re a mathematical genius.”

“What is said of Robert Hooke in your time? Do they believe that he developed the inverse square definition of the force of gravity?”

“Actually, nobody talks much about Hooke; you’re better known.”

Newton jumped in excitement when he heard this news and nearly fell on the linoleum in Dr. Treisman’s office.

“I have triumphed!!  I knew no one would believe the lies of that pompous little man!”

Treisman, fearing for Newton’s safety, leapt forward to steady the ecstatic man.

“Careful now, you don’t want to hurt yourself and deny us of your laws of motion! Physics students everywhere would be very disappointed!” He warned Newton and smiled as though expecting Newton to be amused at his joke, but as happens often in the professor’s calculus classes, Newton did little more than look at him in puzzlement.

“Are my laws of motion equally well known in your age?”

“Why yes, all students studying physics learn them. Your work is quite well known in my time, and most of it is still considered true.”

“‘If I have been able to see further, it was only because I stood on the shoulders of giants!’[13] That nitwit Hooke will never achieve my stature, neither in science, recognition or physically!” Newton let out a high-pitched laugh and strutted across the room in triumph.

Dr. Treisman, who had been examining Newton’s laboratory, chanced to interrupt the jubilant man’s thoughts.

“So are we in Cambridge?”

“On this side of the room I believe we are. This is my laboratory. In what place and time is the other half of this chamber?”

“This is my office at the University of Texas in the city of Austin, or it was in 2004. I’m not quite sure where we are now.”

“What are you working on there?” asked Newton as curiosity overcame his euphoria and shyness,[14] and he moved into the futuristic realm of Dr. Treisman’s office.

“Oh, this is a report I am preparing on my research.”

“What does your research concern?”

“It’s a compilation of several ‘studies examining the social and psychological factors that contribute to student success in high school mathematics courses’”[15]

“So are you a professor or an investigator?”

“I am both. At my institution to be a professor you must also do research. The focus of my work is more on education and education policy[16] than on theory. My most famous research was precisely on the teaching of calculus to first-year students at the university level.”[17]

“And what were your conclusions?”

Dr. Treisman, eager for a chance to discuss his famous study with the inventor of calculus, eagerly answered Newton’s question.

“I actually found that students tend to do better in rigorous mathematics courses when they study in small groups and teach each other.[18] Calculus is quite a challenge for many students. At several universities, including mine, the Emerging Scholars Program has been created to replicate the small study groups I found greatly improved students’ success in math.”[19]

“In groups you say? I learned mathematics by reading Barrow’s edition of Euclid’s Elements on my own.[20] I had no one to teach me, and I have been quite successful nonetheless.”  

“Yes, but you forget the uniqueness of your case; you are a mathematical genius. Also, the approach towards higher level mathematics has changed. ‘In the past, very few students studied advanced mathematics and almost all of these students came from very similar advantaged backgrounds.  These students often had a passion for mathematics since childhood.  Advanced math students worked very closely with their professors--who saw themselves as teachers as a well as researchers.  I don't think that [the emerging scholars program] would have been needed [in your time].  I created it in the mid-1970's when enrollment in calculus was very large… and the student population was becoming very diverse.  [The emerging scholars program] is a product of a time when higher education was becoming democratized.’”[21]

“I see,” replied Newton, obviously overwhelmed by Dr. Treisman’s detailed response. An awkward silence ensued during which Newton shuffled some papers about on his desk and considered finishing his letter.  

“May I ask what you are working on?” Dr. Treisman ventured to inquire as Newton was about to sit back down at his desk.

“I’m writing an epistle to Edmund Halley to tell him that I won’t be sending the third volume of my Principia to be published.”

“Why don’t you want to send it?”

 “Because of that lying scoundrel Robert Hooke! He’s always trying to steal my ideas or discredit my discoveries. When I presented my reflecting telescope to the Royal Society he claimed that he had made a smaller one.[22] Now he says that I stole the inverse square law from him, but that is preposterous! Many astronomers and scientists have known of that relationship before our time. If it weren’t for him, I’d be preparing my manuscript right now. The Royal Society and Mr. Halley truly appreciate my work. Do you see this letter here?” he asked, waving a paper in front of Dr. Treisman’s face. “This is a letter from Mr. Halley trying to convince me to send in the rest of my work. He says: ‘I am heartily sorry, that in this matter, wherein all mankind ought to acknowledge their obligations to you, you should meet with anything that should give you disquiet’ ah, and then he goes on and, oh, here it is ‘Tis not shee but your Rivalls envying your happiness that endeavour to disturb you from your quiet enjoyment, which when you consider, I hope you will see cause to alter your former Resolution of suppressing your third book.’”[23]

“It sounds like your work is appreciated by everyone else, why let Hooke stand in the way of your dispersing it?”

Newton seemed at a loss of words. He stared at Dr. Treisman, obviously disturbed at his questioning, then turned and looked around his half laboratory. He walked over to a cupboard in the far right-hand corner and took from it two apples. One he kept for himself and bit a little too aggressively. The other he thrust forward to Dr. Treisman silently. While both ate their fruit, Dr. Treisman considered the question of how best to reason with Newton without causing further damage to the scientist’s obviously frayed nerves.

 “Well, you know your conclusions are correct, don’t you?” Dr. Treisman finally said.

“Of course, ‘I frame no hypotheses; for whatever is not deduced from the phenomena is to be called an hypothesis and hypotheses […] have no place in experimental philosophy.’[24] I proved my work several times, both with my method of fluxions and with classic geometry.[25] My theories are sound.”

“You know, I really admire how you stand by your ideas and never doubt yourself.”

“Oh, but I do. I suppose my defensiveness is sometimes due to my own doubts. That is why I never publish hypotheses; I want to always be sure that no one can refute my conclusions.”[26]

“Yes, but you are relentless in your endeavors. In my age few are so dedicated. It is so easy for many to turn to the back of a book or to someone else for answers. That’s partly why the emerging scholars program has been so successful; we force students to reason through problems and reach conclusions without someone holding them by the hand the whole way. It’s like them working out fluxions all over again. It is the only way to truly learn.”

“Ah, but what a hard life it is to live, that of constant discovery. It is quite trying on the mind and soul to cross a barren expanse alone. Just look at me; my hair began turning grey when I was thirty![27] Many a hard night I have passed squinting in the dim light of a candle at equations and phenomena no one else had yet dared to decipher. I am a stranger to the students and inhabitants here. Though I pass them daily my mind is so occupied by theories and problems that I hardly notice them.[28] I haven’t reached out to posterity as you have.”

“Oh but you have! You are one of the main reasons Cambridge is today a center for mathematics and science. Youth all over the world know of you and study your work. Poets have written your praise; why there is even a statue of you at Cambridge now!”[29]

“But I am a lonely man. All the recognition in the future cannot replace the solitude of the present.”

“Every gain is accompanied by a loss. You posses a brilliant mind and unparalleled concentration, yet are introverted.”

“Do you ever wish to be who you are not?”

“No, not really; in my youth I tried my hand at many arts; anything I was interested in I explored. I am satisfied with the life I have chosen.”[30]

“I am content with my work as well,” said Newton in an absent-minded way. “You say that I am to have a great influence on posterity?”

“Yes. Calculus, as I told you, is used extensively and taught at every university. Your physics concepts are also widely known and used. It would be a great loss to human kind if they never had the chance to see your complete works.”

“And you said that no one remembers Hooke and that they all believe I was the one who developed the inverse square law,” he said, seemingly to himself. He then turned his back on Dr. Treisman and sat back down at his desk. As he picked up his pen to write his reply to Edmund Halley’s request, the Universal Order opened his eyes and saw the results of his neglect. He quickly repaired the damage, and time again began to flow in its habitual way.

At that exact moment Dr. Treisman chanced to blink, and when he reopened his eyes he was standing with his nose to the wall of his office holding the red apple Newton had offered him. He stepped back from the barrier and shook his head in confusion. Then, as a strange feeling of having done well permeated his being, a large smile spread across his face. He returned to his desk less tired than before and feeling infinitely better, as though he had just had a long rest.

Newton was returned to his time and place at Cambridge University as well. He was quite inspired and wrote for several more hours. First, he composed a friendly note to Halley, and then busied himself with the preparation of his manuscript for printing. Despite his distracted nature, nearing daybreak he became aware of a pleasant feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction whose source he could not recall.

Word count: 2,823

Desk similar to the one Newton would have used
http://www.thebakken.org/Frankenstein/show-2.htm