In the early hours of the morning, when the world is draped in darkness and the whispers of the night stir our imaginations, numbers take on a captivating aura. This isn't about formal mathematics just yet; rather, it's about the tangible reality of counting. We counted everything—sheep, fingers, toes—preparing us for the infinite, uncountable stars that awaited us in the vast night sky. I recall a time when, lying on the ground, I felt small yet grounded. The universe felt solid and unwavering, a belief shared by many throughout history. Aristotle articulated this in 355 B.C.E., noting that throughout recorded history, no alteration seemed to have occurred in the cosmos or its components. His universe was without a creator; it existed eternally, an "I HAVE BEEN" rather than the "I AM." Yet, during the Medieval and Renaissance periods, Christian astronomers adapted Aristotelian concepts to formulate intricate mathematical frameworks for understanding the universe as a meticulously designed machine. They argued that this mathematical precision and the very existence of numbers were evidence of an intelligent creator, embarking on a quest for order and divine presence within the cosmos.

French theorist Paul Virilio, renowned for his insights into technological failures, reminds us that every invention brings about its own downfall. He posed a thought-provoking question: “When they invented the railroad, what did they invent?” The answer lies in the duality of progress and catastrophe. This concept inspired my book, Clockwork Futures, which explores the tension between chaos and order through a series of paired chapters:

Part One: CHAOS | order 1 | The Deity of Numbers 2 | Clockwork Boy and the Mother Machine

Part Two: DARKNESS | light 3 | Capturing Lightning in a Bottle 4 | Into Dark Country

Part Three: PRIVATION | Industry 5 | The Scientist and the Engineer 6 | He Who Powers the Future

Part Four: ANARCHY | Control 7 | A Wrench in the Age of Machinery 8 | Of Acid and Accident

The concluding section addresses themes of death and immortality. Throughout my writing, I sensed deeper layers beneath the surface, like a basilisk's egg, holding desires and fears intertwined. Humanity's aspirations and anxieties often converge, leading to groundbreaking scientific advancements yet also to crises such as climate change and human atrocities. Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of my book, an attempt to convey the underlying dread that accompanies our technological journey.

In the introduction, I posited that while the Earth is ancient, technology is relatively new. Historian David Wootton offers a long-term perspective, noting that tool-making humans have existed for approximately two million years, with Homo sapiens emerging around 200,000 years ago. Pottery appeared around 25,000 years ago, and agriculture began between 12,000 and 7,000 years ago. George Shattuck Morison categorized these human stages, asserting that the mastery of fire marked the transition from savagery to civilization. Despite our extensive history, written documentation spans only about 6,500 years, while the technological and scientific advancements we discuss are confined to the last 400 years. Wootton aptly describes our modern world as "box fresh," noting that the foundations of contemporary science emerged between the discovery of a new star in 1572 and the release of Newton's Opticks in 1704. The epoch Morison depicted represents the culmination of a movement spanning forty generations, signaling the dissolution of old structures and ideologies. Ironically, in 1664, Henry Power expressed a similar sentiment, envisioning a future where "old rubbish must be thrown away" to pave the way for a more magnificent philosophy. Both men recognized the inevitability of change, yet the narrative begins not in a gleaming future but rather amid the decay and filth of a world that believed itself to be static.

Imagine a city around 1600: animals slaughtered in the streets, entrails left to rot, breeding grounds for flies and bacteria. Illumination came from flickering animal-fat candles, and the absence of sanitation meant human and animal waste mingled in the thoroughfares. Science writer Edward Dolnick vividly describes London’s grim reality, where even the royal palace cleared its corridors of refuse just once a week. It was a time when public restrooms were nonexistent, and pests thrived everywhere. Skin diseases and infections plagued urban dwellers, while rural inhabitants faced grueling labor. Wars and religious strife, from the Thirty Years' War to the English Civil War, created instability in governance. The Black Plague ravaged Europe from the 14th century to the catastrophic outbreaks of the 1650s and 60s, leaving medicine largely powerless against the rampant disease. In such a flawed existence, the educated individual of the time held a belief that Earth was fixed, with God intricately involved in human affairs. In this constrained reality, mathematics was perceived as a proof of divine order.

The Mechanics of the Universe

Nicholas Kratzer arrived in England in 1516, bringing revolutionary ideas in mathematics and astronomy that endeared him to King Henry VIII. A true Renaissance figure, he believed that precision engineering could unlock the universe's mysteries. Dr. James Fox, in the BBC series A Very British Renaissance, highlights Kratzer's remarkable ability to create intricate sundials, one with a nine-sided face, which symbolized the grand design of the cosmos. His work reassured patrons that all was right in their world: God had created the heavens to revolve around the Earth. By engineering timepieces specifically for England, Kratzer ensured that the sun's rise and set aligned with the monarchy, reinforcing their perceived centrality. His friend Hans Holbein's painting The Ambassadors further illustrated this understanding of order through its celestial and earthly symbols. The system established by Aristotle and later by Claudius Ptolemy endured, underpinning societal structures from royalty to the common populace, though it faced significant challenges.

If one gazed intently at the night sky for a year, anomalies would emerge. Stars and planets did not merely traverse the visible horizon in predictable patterns; their movements seemed erratic at different times of the year. To those who believed in an Earth-centered universe, these irregularities posed a conundrum. Ptolemy attempted to resolve these issues in the second century, asserting that the sun orbited the Earth and proposing that planets moved in "epicycles," smaller circles while revolving around the Earth. He even introduced the concept of the "equant" to account for perceived variations in speed. While the mathematical underpinnings were complex, Giovanni de’ Dondi's astrarium from the 1380s aimed to model the solar system as Ptolemy envisioned it. This approach led to the understanding that the universe operated like a clock. The mathematics may have been accurate, but the model's assurance of a stable universe was fundamentally flawed.

In 1572, Tycho Brahe discovered a new star, employing trigonometry to demonstrate its celestial nature. Such occurrences are rare, and to witness one was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Yet, this nova appeared in a time when superstition reigned, provoking fear and uncertainty. Brahe dedicated the following fifteen years to meticulous celestial observation, while still clinging to the belief in a stationary Earth. The task of challenging this idea fell to Galileo Galilei, who faced the wrath of the Inquisition for his revolutionary ideas. Although Copernicus had previously questioned Ptolemy’s model, it was Galileo’s advocacy for the heliocentric model that ignited controversy. His struggles with the Church highlight the intricate interplay between science and authority, where the cosmos served as both a symbol of order and a tool for control.

Chaos evokes fear—its connotations of disorder and unpredictability resonate deeply. The chaos of disease and decay contrasted sharply with Galileo’s ideas, which threatened the very fabric of the universe and the established systems built upon it. Today, with our understanding of an ever-expanding universe and the intricacies of quantum physics, it's challenging to fathom the profound impact of such revelations. The moment we grasped that Earth traveled through space at astonishing speeds, our belief systems began to unravel, not just for individuals but for entire generations. The transition from the Ptolemaic to the Copernican system necessitated innovative mathematical frameworks and a reevaluation of empirical evidence. This upheaval birthed a new sense of doubt—a realization that perhaps foundational beliefs, including religion, were fallible.

The universe's order would soon be redefined by three pivotal figures: Johannes Kepler, Isaac Newton, and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Together, they imposed a new understanding of the cosmos, making it mathematically comprehensible.

Or so we hoped.

“Grandfather Clock is a creature of logic and precision [. . .] He allows neither change nor error.” — S. M. Peters, Whitechapel Gods

Fiction often captures the essence of our struggles best. In Peters's steampunk narrative, the world operates not just like clockwork but is governed by it—represented by the stoic Grandfather Clock and the fiery Mama Engine. The protagonist, Oliver, confronts both the oppressive system and his own physicality in a visceral struggle against the established order. The climax of his journey, laden with violence and self-discovery, reflects our current societal turmoil. The crises we face—climate change, pandemics, political unrest—are not novel; they echo the ancient challenges of humanity. Yet, our capacity for destruction has outpaced our wisdom.

The conclusion of Peters's narrative hints at a flicker of hope, suggesting that even in chaos, a path back from the brink is possible. As we reflect on the vast unknowns of the universe, we must remember the allure of the mysteries that lie beyond our understanding. Steampunk enthusiasts may resist being labeled as merely escapist, yet this genre reflects the intertwining of fantasy and reality.

For thinkers like Newton, science was infused with wonder, allowing for imaginative exploration. Kepler dabbled in fiction, Newton pursued alchemy, and Leibniz speculated on the potential for animals to speak. They navigated contradictions, believing in a divinely ordered world while also embracing fantastical ideas. Today, we too grapple with our desire for knowledge and the dread of the unknown. Their legacy instills in us the belief that the secrets of the universe are within reach, and while we may no longer speak of magic numbers, it is indeed the numbers that unlock these mysteries.

Hope still exists, offering a chance to reclaim our footing amid the chaos.