Chapter 1
“Without reason, time is empty. Every thought is a thread, and every hour waits to be woven by it. Reason gives time its meaning; otherwise, hours are nothing but shadows.”
CHAPTER I
Murphy stood on the mist-laden platform, rubbing her numb hands inside her pockets, as if caught between the voids of the mind and the silent weight of time. The cold air brushed against her face, heightening both her excitement and her unease. She was waiting for the train that would soon appear in the distance—the one that would take her to the college she had long dreamed of attending.
The lights emerging from the darkness of the tunnel had already begun to pull her away from reality. Every echoing footstep sounded like the fading trace of a life left behind. She felt suspended between her past and her future. In that moment, there were no past or future events to defend or anticipate as one would on an ordinary day—there was only the present. Only the station, the dark tunnel, the departing figures, and the cold air.
A voice broke Murphy’s reverie.
“Hello! Are you from Logos Temporis Collegium?”
Murphy flinched. Turning around, she found herself facing a young man dressed in the same uniform. His blond hair fell across his forehead, and his sea-blue eyes shimmered. The young man smiled warmly.
“My first year,” Murphy said hesitantly.
“Mine too. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Not many people from around here get accepted into Logos Temporis Collegium.” He extended his hand. “Edward.”
A sudden warmth filled Murphy. She had already met someone new. Perhaps her first year at the college would not be as difficult as she had feared. Still, she silenced the thought, telling herself it was far too early to draw conclusions.
“Murphy.” She shook Edward’s hand.
They stood in silence for a while. Then, at last, the heralding sound of the train was heard. Murphy tightened her grip on her suitcase and looked toward the approaching train. It was striking. With a mixture of excitement and anxiety born of being accepted into such a prestigious institution, she stepped forward.
Once aboard, she took a seat by the window and gazed outside. The train had already begun its passage through the tunnel. The journey would last several hours. She placed her suitcase on the rack and settled back into her seat, suddenly struck by how unreal everything felt.
She reviewed her memories. Had she truly lived through them? None of it felt real. Earlier that morning, she had received a letter from Logos Temporis Collegium. It had taken her hours to believe she had truly been accepted. And now here she was, on a train, on her way to her new school.
She thought of her parents. She would miss them deeply. She tried not to dwell on the emptiness her absence would leave at home, especially for her mother. They were happy too—she was sure of it, or at least she wanted to be.
That familiar anxiety returned. Murphy felt an indefinable unease stirring within her. Outside, everything appeared misty and strangely vivid. Why was green always so bright—especially in moments that felt like dreams?
She began to ponder the nature of reality itself.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice Edward approaching. Edward looked at her with a playful expression.
“Hey, are you still here?”
“I think so,” Murphy replied.
“Mind if I join you? I don’t know anyone else on this train who’s a student.”
“Of course.”
Murphy tried to collect herself. Perhaps she was simply overreacting.
Edward sat across from her.
“Why did you want to attend Logos Temporis Collegium?”
Murphy hesitated. “I suppose… because I love philosophy. Because I want to devote my life to it. Why else would anyone go to a philosophy school?”
Edward smiled. “Same here. I want to dedicate my life to philosophy. It’s extraordinary.”
“Do you like logic?” Edward asked.
“Of course. I imagine it’s a necessity at Logos Temporis.”
“Exactly. My father and my sister wanted me to become a literary scholar, but I’ve been a mathematician by nature since birth. I do love literature as well, of course—but the true method of philosophy lies in analytic philosophy. Nothing fascinates me more than logic.”
Edward was talkative. Murphy tried to stay focused. She realized how similar Edward seemed to her.
“Sometimes I think,” Murphy said, “that without logic, it’s easy to believe everything is just a random chain.”
Edward laughed. “Is that a critique of quantum physics?”
Murphy smiled. “No—but I am a determinist.”
“That’s precisely why logic matters, Murphy. Logic transforms chaos into meaning. It allows us to manage our thoughts, our time—even our fears.”
Murphy reflected on this.
“So logic is like a kind of safety net…”
“Exactly,” Edward said. “Logic doesn’t just help us find the right answers—it teaches us how to ask the right questions. And asking the right question is often more valuable than the answer itself.”
Murphy looked up at him. She felt that she could truly get along with this boy.
Edward didn’t let silence settle even for a moment.
“That Schrödinger’s cat problem is fascinating,” he said with a faint smile. “Do you think the cat is both dead and alive?”
Murphy frowned. “It sounds that way, but logically… doesn’t that violate the law of non-contradiction and the impossibility of a third state?”
Edward shook his head. “No. The cat exists in a state of probability until it is observed. Classical logic applies at the moment of measurement. So the cat is neither both dead and alive—we simply haven’t observed it yet.”
Murphy smiled slightly. “So logic provides a framework even within probabilistic complexity. Measurement and reality always lead us to a single, non-contradictory outcome.”
Edward nodded. “Exactly. Perhaps thinking is even more valuable than measuring.”
Murphy paused. “Are you knowledgeable about everything? Quantum physics, mathematics, logic, philosophy…”
Edward shrugged. “More or less. They all interest me. I’m not sure which I’ll specialize in.”
Murphy nodded in admiration. “I think I know mine.”
“What is it?”
“The philosophy of time.”
Edward’s surprise quickly turned into delight. “I’m deeply interested in the philosophy of time as well. We really are alike, aren’t we?”
Murphy nodded, equally surprised.
“Which theory of time do you support?” Edward asked.
“Most philosophers are caught between A and B theories. But I think it’s C,” Murphy said.
“Yes!” Edward exclaimed. “I used to support B-theory. My view changed after I learned about Kurt Gödel’s closed timelike curves.”
“In B-theory,” Murphy said, “what I disagree with is this: if time doesn’t flow, how can it have a direction? Something static shouldn’t have direction.”
“I used to think of it like gravity,” Edward replied. “Gravity doesn’t flow, but it has direction.”
“Is it really correct to compare time to a force?” Murphy countered. “Besides, just because events have an order doesn’t mean time itself has direction.”
“Is the order of events objective?” Edward asked with a smile.
“That’s a very deep question.”
“The philosophy of time is a magnificent field.”
They fell silent for a while. Then Edward shifted topics again.
“Are you interested in art?”
“I like music.”
“Me too! I play the violin at a near-professional level. And I know a bit of piano.”
“The opposite for me,” Murphy said, now fully grounded in reality, unable to suppress a grin.
They spoke about countless things—physics, philosophy, music, chess, and more. By the time the train neared the school, both felt a pleasant exhaustion. In just a few hours, they had come to know and deeply like each other. Their interests aligned perfectly, and their personalities complemented one another. Another thing they shared was a profound sense of being strangers to this world.
At the horizon, their grand school came into view.
As the train continued its rhythmic motion, the gaps in Murphy’s perception of time and space seemed to widen. When Logos Temporis finally revealed itself in full, her eyes widened in awe.
From a distance, Logos Temporis Collegium rose like a mysterious silhouette in the misty morning light. Its tall stone towers, darkened walls, and arched windows made it seem as though time itself had been imprisoned within a fortress. The first rays of sunlight filtered through moss and cracks in the stone, casting a faint golden glow that gave the academy both an ancient and sacred aura.
The tops of the towers merged with the clouds, while the courtyard and stone paths below were obscured from view. Only the heavy silhouettes of walls and roofed corridors could be discerned. Faint lights flickering from distant windows suggested the quiet footsteps of students and the trembling glow of candlelight within. From afar, the college resembled a labyrinth—both inviting and unreachable—emanating a mystical force, as though it carried the weight of both time and reason.
When Murphy stepped off the train, the cold air struck her face, and the scent of old stone filled her lungs. Beneath the misty morning light, the towering structures of Logos Temporis seemed to bear the burden of time itself.
Above the gate, a Latin inscription seemed to glimmer:
“Without reason, time is empty.”
