Dispersion — where it appears
Named by 43 essays across 6 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
A wave is a shape that travels, and nothing else does
In a wave on water, no water goes anywhere. What moves is the shape — and separating the two motions is the whole of wave physics.
The bend at the boundary, and what it is really about
Light changes direction when it changes speed. Snell's law is the geometry of that statement, and it can be derived without knowing anything about light at all.
The angle the rainbow has to be, and why nobody chose it
A rainbow is at forty-two degrees because a function has a minimum there. Nothing about water, light or weather picks the number — it falls out of running Snell's law three times through a sphere.
Why the sky is blue and the sunset is not, from one exponent
Scattering goes as the inverse fourth power of wavelength, and that single number produces a blue sky and a red sun without any second explanation. The two facts look opposite and are the same arithmetic.
The medium decides the speed, and the source only decides the note
A wave's speed is not chosen by whatever made it. It is a property of the material the wave is crossing, fixed before the wave arrives, and the wavelength is whatever is left over after the division.
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.
What a thousand slits buy that two cannot
The bright directions behind a grating are fixed by its ruling pitch and the wavelength alone, and no count of lines appears in them. What the count changes is the width of each maximum, which falls as 1/N — so resolving power is mN, and 1,200 illuminated lines separate the sodium D lines with a dip of 53.4 per cent where 300 show one line and no dip at all.
The equation that lets a shape travel
Newton's second law applied to a piece of string a millimetre long gives T·y″ = µ·ÿ, and the derivation never once asks what the string is made of. Two things fall out immediately: the speed is √(T/µ) and belongs to the medium, and the general solution holds two arbitrary functions rather than one. The second of them is the reflection, which is why a boundary condition can be met at all.
Two glasses that cancel a derivative
A single lens focuses blue light closer than red, and the difference ruins the image. Cementing a second lens of another glass behind it fixes the fault at two wavelengths and at no others, because the condition sets a slope to zero rather than a value.
The speed that carries no signal
In the right medium a pulse's peak emerges from the far side before it entered the near one. The measurement is real, it has been made, and nothing has outrun light — because the peak of a smooth pulse was never carrying any information in the first place.
The pipe that will not carry a low note
A wave squeezed sideways acquires a lowest frequency. Below it nothing travels — the field is there, it is large, and it goes nowhere. Above it the guide is dispersive whether or not anything in it is, and the pattern inside runs faster than light while the signal does not.
The channel with no walls
A pipe will not carry a note below its cutoff, and no length of pipe helps. Replace the walls with nothing but a region where the wave travels slightly slower, and the cutoff disappears — however weak the contrast and however thin the channel, at least one mode is bound. The difference is not a matter of degree; it is the difference between a boundary condition and a potential well.
The constant that depends on how fast it is asked
Water's relative permittivity is 80.1. Its refractive index is 1.333, and the square of 1.333 is 1.777. The identity n = √ε_r is exact, the two numbers differ by a factor of forty-five, and nothing is wrong with either — because a permittivity is a function of frequency and the two measurements were made eight orders of magnitude apart.
The wavelength a fibre does not smear
Fused silica's index has a second derivative that passes through zero at 1,273 nanometres, and that is not a design choice — it is where the ultraviolet and infrared absorptions balance. A pulse sent at that wavelength arrives the shape it left. A pulse at the wavelength of least loss arrives 1,800 picoseconds wider after a hundred kilometres.
The whistle that arrives sorted
A lightning stroke in one hemisphere reaches a receiver in the other as a note gliding downward over about a second. Nothing dispersed the sound; there was no sound. A radio pulse travelled forty megametres along a magnetic field line through a plasma whose group velocity depends on frequency, and arrived with its frequencies separated by up to three seconds.
The answer that cannot come first
A medium absorbs at some frequencies and bends light at all of them, and those look like two separate facts to be measured separately. They are one fact. The requirement that a material respond after it is asked rather than before ties the absorption at every frequency to the refraction at every other, by an integral — and a material given the two halves independently answers before the question arrives.
The arrival that keeps arriving
A clap heard across a field arrives and stops. The same clap in two dimensions arrives at the same instant and then goes on arriving for ever, fading as one over the time — and the difference is not absorption, or echo, or scattering. It is the number of dimensions, and sharp arrival happens in three of them and in no even number at all.
The pulse two failures keep alive
Dispersion spreads a pulse until it is nothing. Nonlinearity steepens it until it breaks. Each on its own destroys a disturbance, and there is exactly one height for each width at which the two cancel completely — leaving a shape that travels for ever and survives being run into by another one.
The ring at twenty-two degrees
A halo round the sun is a caustic in orientation rather than in space. Most of the ice crystals in a cirrus cloud send light nowhere in particular; the ones near minimum deviation all send it to nearly the same angle, because a minimum is flat — and the angle they pick has a red inner edge, which is the reverse of a rainbow.
The wave a surface is enough to hold
A pipe guides with walls and a fibre guides with a slower core. A solid needs neither: one free surface binds a wave that is not a bulk wave bouncing but a separate solution, travelling slower than any wave in the material, dying away exponentially into it, and carrying its energy round a circle instead of over a sphere — which is why it is the part of an earthquake that knocks buildings down.
How long the crossing takes
Tunnelling has a probability, and asking how long it takes turns out to be a different kind of question. The delay a transmitted packet shows stops growing once the barrier is opaque, so a thicker wall is crossed in the same time — and several defensible clocks give several different answers.
The drag that was only an addition
Light in moving water is carried along by it, but only partly — by a fraction of the water's speed that depends on the refractive index in a way nobody could account for. Fresnel invented the coefficient to save a theory, Fizeau measured it in 1851, and it sat unexplained for half a century. It is the first term of the relativistic velocity addition and nothing else.
The angle that is two angles
Snell's law survives a complex index by giving a complex answer, and a complex angle is not an angle. What the phase-matching argument actually fixes is the tangential wavenumber, and when the medium absorbs, the surfaces of constant phase and the surfaces of constant amplitude stop being parallel. In silver at 550 nanometres the phase fronts run within four degrees of the surface while the amplitude decays straight into it.
The ray on the wrong side of the normal
The phase-matching construction draws a circle and a line, and the line crosses the circle twice. Every earlier construction silently took the upper intersection. Which one is physical is decided by where the energy goes rather than by where the wavevector points, and in a medium whose group velocity opposes its phase velocity the answer is the other one — so the refracted ray leaves on the same side of the normal it arrived on, a flat slab focuses, and a lens can beat the diffraction limit until loss stops it.
The delay that is a random variable
A fibre's core is very slightly elliptical, so its two polarisations travel at very slightly different speeds — and the ellipse turns, at random, every hundred metres or so. The delays of the pieces do not add. They random-walk, so the total grows as the square root of the length, follows the same distribution as the speeds of gas molecules, differs from one wavelength to the next, and on any particular day may be three times its average.
The solitons a hump already contains
A soliton is one height for one width. Release a hump of any other shape and it does not keep that shape or simply spread — it comes apart into a fixed number of solitons of fixed heights, running off in order of size, with a ripple left behind. The number and the heights can be read off before anything moves, by treating the hump upside down as a well and counting the levels it holds.
The force whose sign a frequency chooses
A neutral particle in a non-uniform field is pulled towards strong field if it polarises more than the liquid around it and pushed away if it polarises less. With conduction in the picture, which of the two it does is decided by how fast the field alternates — and a living cell, a conductor wrapped in an insulator five nanometres thick, changes sign twice, where a dead one changes once. The same electrodes can then send the living cells one way and the dead ones the other.
The phases that turn a glow into pulses
A laser oscillates on many frequencies at once, spaced by the time light takes to go round its cavity. Add those waves with random phases and the output is a steady glow with noise in it. Add exactly the same waves with their phases equal and the output is a train of pulses, each N² times brighter than one wave and a fraction 1/N of the round trip long. Nothing about the frequencies, the amplitudes or the average power changes — only the phases, and they decide everything a detector fast enough would see.
The momentum light carries into glass
A pulse of light in glass has two momenta, nE/c and E/nc, and for a century the argument was about which one is right. Both are measured. A free block that the light crosses must move forward, which only Abraham's value explains; a Cherenkov cone exists at all, which only Minkowski's allows. They answer different questions, and the difference between them is momentum carried by the glass.
The colour fringe no aperture can close
A lens bends blue light more than red, and that one fact produces two different faults. One puts the blue focus nearer the lens than the red, and closing the aperture shrinks it. The other puts the blue image of an off-axis point nearer the centre of the frame than the red one, and closing the aperture does nothing at all, because it is carried by the one ray every aperture keeps. It is why photographs have coloured fringes in their corners and not in their middles, and why a lens designer who cannot remove it with glass can sometimes remove it with symmetry, or with a distance.
The window a diamond is cut inside
A well-cut diamond sends back out of its top most of the light that falls on it, and it does so without a single silvered surface. Light entering the top is totally reflected at one sloping face of the pavilion below, again at the opposite face, and then has to leave through the top — where it must not be totally reflected. Each of those three is a condition on one angle, and together they leave a window a dozen degrees wide inside which a stone looks bright and outside which it looks glassy. The window is wide for diamond and nearly closed for glass, which is why a cutter's skill cannot make glass sparkle.
The even wave train that cannot stay even
In the mid-1960s a team at the National Physical Laboratory tried to make a long, perfectly regular train of waves in a towing tank, and could not: however carefully they set the paddle going, a few hundred metres down the tank the waves had bunched into groups. Their paddle was not at fault. A uniform train of steep waves on deep water is unstable — small modulations of its height grow, the energy of many waves gathers into a few, and then, astonishingly, gives itself back. Out of that instability comes a wave three times the height of the sea around it, with no history before and none after.
The dispersion made of angles
Glass delays blue light more than red, so a short pulse that passes through glass comes out stretched with its red end first. At the wavelengths where most short-pulse lasers work, no transparent glass does the opposite. Two diffraction gratings do it with no material at all. The first spreads the colours in angle, the second turns them back parallel, and in between the red has travelled the longer road. A spread in angle, however it is made, always adds this kind of dispersion, of the sign glass cannot give. It is how every high-power ultrafast laser squeezes its pulse back after amplifying it.
The photons that raced for seven billion years
Nothing on a laboratory bench can reach the Planck scale, but a gamma-ray burst halfway across the universe can amplify a Planck-scale effect until it is a second long. If spacetime has structure at the Planck length, the simplest guess is that light's speed depends slightly on its energy. Then a burst's high-energy photons would arrive measurably later than its low-energy ones, after a race lasting billions of years. In 2009 a 31 GeV photon from a burst 7.5 thousand million light-years away arrived within 0.83 s of the burst's start. That excludes the simplest version of the idea at the Planck energy itself.
Why the glow of a fast charge is blue
A charge moving in a straight line at constant speed does not radiate — in a vacuum. In water, if it moves faster than light does in water, it glows, and the glow is blue. The cone of the light is the familiar half of the story. The other half is a count: Frank and Tamm's formula says each centimetre of water yields about two hundred visible photons, in numbers that rise as the inverse square of the wavelength, which is why a reactor pool shines blue and why the light keeps getting stronger into the ultraviolet until water stops being transparent. The charge never accelerates. What radiates is the water.
The packet that bends with nothing pushing it
Every wave packet left to itself spreads, and every free particle moves in a straight line. In 1979 Berry and Balazs found a packet that does neither: it keeps its shape for ever, and its peak accelerates sideways along a parabola, in empty space, with no force acting. Nothing in it breaks Newton's laws — the packet's centre of mass stays exactly where it was, and only its bright head runs off, fed by a long dim tail — and the trick turns out to be the rainbow's: the bright lobe is the envelope of a family of straight rays. Thirty years later it was made with light, and then with electrons.
The colour at which glass disappears
Lower a glass rod into an oil of the same refractive index and it vanishes, except for a faint coloured outline. The outline is the clue. Glass and oil disperse light differently, so their indices can agree at only one wavelength; at every other the glass is still there, bending and scattering a little. Grind the glass to powder and pack it in the oil, and the mixture is clear at that one wavelength and opaque at the rest — a colour filter made of nothing but two transparent materials, whose colour moves by a whole hue for a few degrees of warming.
The lens with its glass taken out
Snell's law turns a ray at a surface by an angle set by the slope of the surface where the ray crosses, and the glass behind the surface does not enter it. So a lens can be sliced into rings, the glass between the slopes thrown away, and the rays will not notice. Fresnel did it for lighthouses in 1822. The waves notice — every step cuts a few hundred wavelengths out of them — unless the steps are made exactly one wavelength deep, and then the lens becomes something else: a diffractive element whose colours run backwards, and which can cancel a glass lens's colour with a twentieth of its power.
The hooks that weigh an absorption line
A strong absorption line is black at its centre, and how black it is says almost nothing about how many atoms made it — double them and the line hardly darkens. The atoms are still there, and they still bend light: on either side of the line, where the vapour is transparent, its refractive index rises and falls by an amount proportional to their number. In 1912 Dmitry Rozhdestvensky found a way to read that index straight off a photograph. Interference fringes passed through a spectrograph curl into hooks beside the line, and the distance between the hooks, squared, counts the atoms — whatever the line's shape and however saturated its core.
The ripples that answer at half the shaking
Shake a dish of water up and down fifty times a second and nothing happens — until the shaking passes a threshold, when the whole surface erupts into a pattern of standing ripples, squares or stripes, each crest rising and falling twenty-five times a second, at exactly half the frequency of the shaking. Michael Faraday saw it in 1831. The size of the ripples is not set by the dish. It is chosen by the water itself, as the one wavelength whose natural frequency is half the drive's, and the threshold is set by how quickly the water's own viscosity would kill that wave.
The delay a flat lens has no room for
A glass lens is thick in the middle for a reason that is easy to miss. To focus light of every colour at one point, a lens must do more than bend each colour by the right amount: it must make every part of a light wave arrive at the focus at the same moment, and the light passing the edge has further to go. The glass in the middle is what holds the central light back to wait for it. A lens made flat — a kinoform, a metasurface a micrometre thick — has nowhere to keep that delay. The geometry of the focus sets how much delay is needed, the thickness sets how much is available, and between them they cap how large an achromatic flat lens can be: tens of micrometres, not centimetres.
The plate that carries two kinds of sound
Tap the edge of a sheet of aluminium and the sound that runs along it is not one wave but two, and neither is the sound of the metal. One stretches the sheet and travels at 5.44 km/s, faster than a shear wave and slower than a compression wave in the same metal. The other bends it, travels at a speed that depends on how high the note is and how thick the sheet is, and at low frequency crawls at a few hundred metres a second. Both are made of the same two bulk waves bouncing between the faces, and the two faces together decide everything.
The shaking a uniform Earth could not carry
Early seismographs recorded a large sideways shaking that arrived after the body waves and before the Rayleigh wave, and no theory of a uniform Earth allowed it: a horizontal shear wave at a free surface reflects as itself and nothing holds it there. Augustus Love showed in 1911 that a layer does. A crust slower than the rock beneath traps the shaking between a perfect mirror at the top and total reflection at the bottom, and because the long waves reach deeper and run faster, the order in which the periods arrive is a measurement of how thick the crust is.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Refractive indexGroup velocityPhase velocityEvanescent waveGuided wavesSnell's lawSuperpositionWave packetWavelengthAbbe numberAbsorptionCausality