Beats — where it appears
Named by 11 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
When two waves meet, they simply add
Waves pass through each other unchanged and their displacements add point by point. From that one impoverished-sounding rule comes interference, beats, and the evidence that light is a wave at all.
The packet that moves at another speed than its own crests
Watch a group of water waves and the individual crests run forward through it, rise in the middle, and vanish off the front. The group travels at half the speed of the crests, and both numbers are real.
The two pendulums that will not stop swapping
Coupled oscillators joined by a weak spring appear to hand energy back and forth. Nothing is handed anywhere: the system has only a pair of motions that keep their shape, at √(k/m) and √((k+2kc)/m), and the apparent traffic is the beat between them — 51 swings from one handover to the next at a coupling of one part in fifty. Extend the same arithmetic to N masses and it produces a dispersion relation with a hard ceiling, near 7 THz in copper.
Why two lamps never interfere
Adding amplitudes is unconditional; fringes are not. What decides is whether the phase difference holds still for longer than a detector takes to record it — and a 10 nm slice of white light holds it for 100 femtoseconds, across a path of 30 micrometres.
How far a wave can remember
Split a beam, delay one half, and put them back together. The fringes are bright while the delay is short and fade as it grows, and the distance at which they die is fixed by nothing but the width of the source's spectral line. Watching them fade is reading the line shape.
The packet that will not keep its shape
A group velocity is only the first thing a dispersion relation says. The second is that the packet spreads — at a rate fixed by its own bandwidth and by the curvature of ω(k) — so a short pulse comes apart quickly and a long one hardly at all. It is a trade quantum mechanics is usually given credit for, and classical waves make it too.
What adding does to the energy
Waves add their amplitudes and detectors read squares, so two waves together do not deliver the sum of what each delivers. Where the two get dimmer, the natural question is where the energy went — and the answer depends entirely on whether the sources can feel each other.
Two tails that swap everything
Bring two guides close enough for their evanescent tails to overlap and they do not leak a little power into each other. They exchange all of it, and then exchange it back, over a length fixed by the splitting between two modes that belong to neither guide — so a coupler is cut to a length rather than tuned to a ratio, and the length depends exponentially on a gap of a few hundred nanometres.
The wobble that is slow because the Earth gives
Euler worked out in 1765 that a spinning, flattened Earth whose axis is knocked slightly off its figure should wobble, the pole wandering in a small circle once every ten months. Astronomers looked for a ten-month period for a century and found nothing. In 1891 Seth Chandler found a wobble of fourteen months instead. The four extra months are not an error in Euler's arithmetic. They are the Earth yielding: its bulge partly re-forms round the displaced axis, weakening the torque that drives the wobble, and the lengthening measures how soft the planet is.
The clock that is pulled into step
In 1665, ill in bed, Christiaan Huygens noticed that two of his pendulum clocks hanging from the same beam were swinging in exact opposition, and that however he disturbed them they returned to it within half an hour. A clock is not a passive resonator waiting to be pushed; it keeps its own time, by its own mechanism. What a weak push can do to it is not change how strongly it swings but pull its phase — and within a range of frequencies set by the push's strength, pull it all the way into step. The same arithmetic locks lasers, pacemaker cells, power stations and the body's daily clock.
The pattern two gratings make that neither contains
Lay one fine net curtain over another and broad, swirling bands appear that are in neither curtain. Two sets of lines a tenth of a millimetre apart, differing by one part in a hundred, make bands a centimetre apart. This is moiré: the beat of two gratings in space, as two notes a little out of tune beat in time. It magnifies whatever makes the gratings differ — a twist, a stretch, a shift — by the ratio of the bands to the lines, so it is used to measure strain in bridges and to align the layers of microchips. And two sheets of carbon, twisted by just over one degree, make a moiré on which electrons stop moving and the material superconducts.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
SuperpositionInterferenceCoherencePath differenceWave packetBandwidthWavelengthBoundary conditionsDispersion relationEnvelopeFourier transformGroup velocity