The God Particle is so 2011. This year’s sexy science story is a hole in time. Yes, it’s a sci-fi nerdtopia complete with the opportunity to use the compound adjective “space-time” in ordinary conversation.
According to science journal Nature, scientists have managed to create a ‘time cloak’. Using a time-lens that breaks light up they can make an event temporarily undetectable.
Sure, it’s only on the picosecond scale, but still: Phwoar!
The researchers themselves – a group from New York’s Cornell University – write:
In summary, we have presented the first experimental demonstration of temporal cloaking that successfully hides an event from a probe beam in the time domain.
Beam me up. Here’s a diagram that starts to make sense of it all (sort of):

The details are predictably dastardly - some recent scientific developments have shown it’s possible to create a hole in space. These guys have created a hole in time for about 40 trillionths of a second (40 picoseconds). Apparently it’s when you can bring the two bits of magic together and create “full spatio-temporal cloaking” that the really cool shit starts to hit the futuristic fan.
So let’s jump shamelessly ahead of ourselves into the realm of improbability and imagine what you could do if you could cloak a moment in your life. The Punch Team have laid themselves just a little bit bare for you here. Please share below the moment you wish was lost forever in the space-time continuum.
Tory M writes:
I would have liked to have cloaked most of the period I was a copy kid on the Daily Telegraph, when I seemed to humiliate myself daily. I spilled coffee all over the then-editor of The Australian, who was very nice about it. He’s a very nice man.
I lost what was then quite a bit of cash belonging to the editor-in-chief of the Telegraph. He was also very understanding.
I got into the passenger seat of a car belonging to some poor man called Barry because I thought it was a news car. It wasn’t – he was just waiting outside the building to pick up his wife. But worse still, I thought he was punking me and refused to get out. Then when the real news car pulled up, also driven by a Barry, I was too embarrassed to get in. Yep, a time cloak would have come in very handy during that period of my career.
Tory S writes:
High school graduation ceremony. Adelaide Town Hall. Hundreds of people in the audience. Boring speech from principal, followed by the solemn toll of names, as the Year 12s rose and got their certificates. I was a Yr 11, up there for some precocious award. We were sitting on long plank seats. One by one the Yr 12s crossed the floor, smiled for the camera, walked off stage.
Until I was the only one left sitting on the end of a very long bench. It started to tip, and I did a wild jerk of the legs to trying to counterbalance it. I went over with an almighty crash, tipped over backwards with my legs flung up in the air. Then I flailed around for a bit, disoriented by the sudden lack of vision cause by my long skirt being wrapped around my head. Thank God for private school regulation nanna knickers. I don’t remember how I got up and away, but I do remember the principal intoning: “That could only be Tory Shepherd”.
Lucy writes:
People say it’s polite to meet your neighbours when you first move into a new street. Usually this does not involve crashing your car into their house. Unfortunately, that’s what I did, just last year. New to the neighbourhood and a very steep cul de sac, I (thought I had) parked on the crest of the hill. Then I opened the car door, only to feel the rest of the car rolling slowly at first, before taking a rapid descent through the neighbour’s fence, and stopping (thankfully) at the very front wall of their house.
All the while i could see my life flash before my eyes. In no time at all, the entire street had gathered outside their houses to watch. Closely followed by the people in the house who rushed out screaming at me. Let’s just say it was very hard to get out of the car to say: “Just doing the neighbourly thing and saying hello”. A time cloak would have saved me the next six months of walking the long way home.
Daniel writes:
1) Anytime anyone from The Punch team gets up at karaoke. With exceptions.
2) I was at a “conference” of student magazine editors last year. People who know a lot about words. An expert in copyright was giving a talk, and in an effort to try and get the attention of an attractive female on the other side of the room who was engrossed in the lecture, I figured I’d take the opportunity to ask the speaker an intelligent question and look good while I was at it.
“What about satire?” I asked. A pretty good question, I thought. Except I pronounced it sa-TYRE. Everybody laughed. And everybody laughed at me again when I all-too-loudly asked the person next to me: “Well, how do actually pronounce it then?”
I can’t say the word, alright? Everyone I was with mocked me relentlessly for the next six months. I don’t think the girl across the room ever talked to me.
I didn’t run my car into a house, though…
We kept it clean because, well, our real names are attached. But you guys don’t have to, much…
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