Group velocity — where it appears
Named by 33 essays across 7 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
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 speed that depends on the length
Long waves on water travel faster than short ones, which is why a distant storm arrives as a slow swell and a tsunami crosses an ocean without spreading. One relation covers both, and the two familiar rules taught separately are its two limits.
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.
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 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 mass a curve decides
An electron in a solid answers a force with a mass that is nothing to do with the mass of an electron. It is set by how sharply the band bends, it is smaller than the free value in a wide band and larger in a narrow one, and near the top of any band it is negative — which is why aluminium's Hall voltage has the sign of a positive carrier and no adjustment to an electron count can repair it.
The frequency below which nothing gets in
Free charges give a medium a permittivity that is negative, and a negative permittivity is not an absorbing medium — it is one in which no wave exists at all. Below that frequency the reflection is total, exactly rather than nearly, because there is no transmitted wave and nothing to absorb. The same expression puts the number at 9 MHz for the ionosphere and 3.8 PHz for aluminium.
The wave that picks an angle
Shake a rod slowly in a tank of salty water layered by density and the disturbance leaves along four straight beams, at an angle fixed entirely by how fast the shaking is. Change the wavelength and the angle does not move. Change the frequency and it does. Above the buoyancy frequency there is no wave at all.
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 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 frequency a lattice cannot carry
A continuous string carries every note. A row of masses joined by springs does not: there is a highest frequency, set by nothing but the time one mass takes to be pushed back by its neighbours, and above it a disturbance does not travel at all.
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 wave that does not know what the gas is made of
Give the magnetic tension of a bent field line an inertia and it becomes a string. The wave that runs along it goes at the same speed at every wavelength, compresses nothing anywhere, and has a speed containing no temperature, no pressure and no sound speed — it is the only wave in classical physics that is indifferent to what the medium is. Its energy travels along the field whatever direction the wave was sent in.
The wave that is required to stand still
A stratified fluid supports internal waves at every wavelength there is. Put a steady wind over a ridge and the requirement that the pattern stay put picks exactly one of them — 2πU/N, and nothing about the mountain appears in it. The clouds that mark the crests sit still while the air goes through them at twenty metres a second, and the momentum the wave carries away is delivered thirty kilometres up.
The reflection that changes the wavelength
An internal wave's frequency fixes the angle its energy makes with gravity, so a sloping wall cannot send it back the way a mirror would. The reflected beam leaves at the same angle to the vertical rather than the same angle to the wall, its wavelength changes by a factor that diverges when the slope matches the ray, and in a closed basin the changes accumulate until every ray in the fluid lies on one line.
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 latitude past which a tide cannot split
The ocean's internal tide carries about a terawatt, and somewhere it has to be broken into waves small enough to mix the water. One of the ways it breaks is by pumping waves at half its own frequency, the way a child on a swing pumps at twice the swing's. Those half-frequency waves cannot exist where the planet's rotation forbids oscillations that slow — poleward of 28.8° for the semidiurnal tide — so the route has an edge on the map, fixed by the Moon's period and the Earth's spin.
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 wave an electron rides to a gigaelectronvolt
A laser pulse fired into a thin plasma pushes its electrons aside and leaves them oscillating behind it, a wave of charge travelling at nearly the speed of light. The field in that wave is a thousand times stronger than any metal accelerator can hold, and an electron caught in it at the right moment is carried along like a surfer, gaining a gigaelectronvolt in a few centimetres. Then it outruns the wave. The distance it can ride, and the energy it can gain, are both set by how nearly the wave keeps pace with it — which is to say, by relativity.
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.
The light that spreads in two beams
Shine light into one of a row of identical optical fibres laid side by side and close enough to leak into each other, and it does not spread out into a widening glow as it would in a slab of glass. It splits into two beams that run outward at a fixed speed, bright at their leading edges, leaving the middle almost dark. The reason is that light hopping between neighbours has a fastest possible sideways speed, and piles up at it. The same periodicity gives the row two tricks no uniform medium has: a direction in which a beam travels without spreading at all, and a direction in which diffraction runs backwards, so that a spread beam can be gathered up again.
The frequency the sky returns only at a slant
The ionosphere turns back any radio wave below its plasma frequency, about eight megahertz on a summer afternoon, and lets anything above it out into space — if the wave is sent straight up. Send a fourteen-megahertz wave up at a slant and it comes back down, a thousand kilometres away. Only the part of the wave's motion across the layer has to be stopped, and that part is the frequency times the cosine of the angle. The rule turns one frequency into a range of them, sets the highest frequency that can reach any given distance, and leaves a ring of silence round every short-wave transmitter, inside which it cannot be heard at all.
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 tone the whole Earth rings at
The ground conducts and so does the ionosphere, eighty kilometres up, and between them lies a waveguide the size of the planet. Two walls, unlike a pipe, carry waves of any length, so the guide takes radio waves forty thousand kilometres long — longer than the world is round — and, closed on itself, it rings. Lightning strikes fifty times a second and keeps it ringing at about 7.8, 14.3 and 20.8 hertz. Perfect walls would put the tones at 10.6, 18.4 and 25.9; the difference is the ionosphere, a ceiling that leaks.
The spot that outruns light and carries nothing
Flick a laser pointer across the face of the Moon and the spot it makes crosses the Moon faster than light. Nothing is wrong with relativity: the spot is not a thing, and no part of it travels from one side to the other. Each lit point is lit by its own light, sent from the hand. What makes the spot worth studying is how strange such a non-thing is allowed to be. It can be born in the middle of the screen as a pair running apart; its speed can be made infinite, or reversed, merely by watching it from a moving frame; and the composition of velocities that caps everything real has nothing to say about it.
The speed below which nothing on water leaves a wake
Every wave on clean water travels at 23 centimetres a second or faster: long waves are fast because gravity drives them, short ones because surface tension does, and in between there is a slowest wave. A boat, a duck or a fishing line can only make waves that keep pace with it, so anything crossing the water more slowly than 23 centimetres a second makes no waves at all. Faster, it makes two kinds at once — short ripples that run ahead of it and long waves that trail behind — and the threshold between nothing and both is set by gravity, surface tension and density alone.
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.
The wave a row of moving clocks leaves on an instant
Line up identical clocks, synchronise them where they stand, and send the whole row past a laboratory at a steady speed. On any one laboratory instant the clocks do not agree: the ones further ahead read less, by an amount that grows steadily along the row. The readings form a wave laid out in space, its crests are the moving row's instants, and they sweep along faster than light. Give each clock the frequency of its rest energy and the wavelength is exactly h/p. De Broglie's matter wave began, in 1923, as an argument about the relativity of simultaneity.
The waves that always arrive square to the beach
A storm a thousand kilometres off sends out swell in whatever direction it pleases, and that swell arrives on the beach running almost straight in. It does so whichever way the coast faces. Waves slow down in shallow water, so the part of a crest nearest the shore lags and the whole line swings round, as light does in glass. It also explains why waves shrink before they grow, and why they gather on a headland and leave the bay alone.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
DispersionDispersion relationPhase velocityWave packetCutoffRefractive indexEvanescent waveAnisotropyCausalityGuided wavesInternal wavesStratification