The collection

Every essay — page 12

One idea per essay, ordered so that the earlier ones set up the later ones — but nothing here depends on being read in sequence.

Mechanics

Motion, force, and the quantities that refuse to change.

Three quantities that do not move while everything else does. On the left, an orbit in an inverse-square attraction, integrated from its equation of motion over 2.4 revolutions at an eccentricity of 0.55. On the right, three quantities computed from that same trajectory at every step and plotted against time: the energy, the angular momentum, and the length of the eccentricity vector that points at periapsis. Every one is flat to better than 1.2e-11 in units where the circular speed at r = 1 is 1, and none of them was constrained to be — the integrator was given the force and nothing else. Each is a symmetry seen sideways. The energy is constant because the force law does not mention the time; the angular momentum is constant because it does not mention the direction; and the eccentricity vector is constant because of a symmetry that is not a motion of space at all, which is why the inverse square closes its orbits and its neighbours do not. What the picture cannot show is the direction of the argument: it demonstrates that these three are constant here, and the theorem says something much stronger, that a constant exists for every continuous symmetry whatever the system.

The conservation law a symmetry hands over

Energy, momentum and angular momentum are usually presented as three separate empirical facts that happen to hold. They are one fact three times: every continuous symmetry of a system's action supplies a quantity that does not change, the correspondence is exact, and it runs both ways.

5 figures · part 2 on Least action

Four supports, and a whole line of answers. The same top on four supports at the corners of a square, with the load in the same place. Five sets of reactions are drawn and every one of them satisfies all three equilibrium equations exactly — worst residual 1.1e-16 across the whole family — so statics does not prefer any of them. They differ by a multiple of the pattern plus, minus, plus, minus around the square: pressing one diagonal pair harder and the other pair less adds no net force and no moment about either axis, which is exactly what it means for the problem to have a fourth unknown and only three equations. The rigid-body idealisation has not been applied carelessly here; it has been applied correctly, and the answer it gives is that there is no answer. Every member drawn keeps all four reactions positive, so the requirement that a leg can only push narrows the family without closing it. What decides is left out of the model entirely — how much each leg gives under load.

The table statics cannot settle

A rigid top on three legs has one possible set of reactions and a rigid top on four has infinitely many, all of them balancing every force and every moment exactly. The extra leg does not make the problem harder; it makes it unanswerable, and the answer has to come from somewhere the model deliberately threw away.

7 figures · part 3 on Free-body

The set an orbit that never repeats settles onto. 24,000 successive positions of one orbit of the map x' = 1 − 1.4x² + y, y' = 0.3x, after five hundred steps of transient have been discarded. Nearby points separate at e^0.4188 per step, so the orbit is unpredictable in the way the rung below measures; and every one of the 24,000 points lies inside a box 2.558 by 0.767, a diagonal of 2.670, so it is going nowhere. Those two statements are not compatible with a smooth stretching: something has to bring the separated points back, and the bringing back is the visible fold at the left-hand end. The curve is not a curve. Every strand of it is a bundle of strands at any magnification, which is what an area contraction of 0.3 per step leaves behind when the stretching along the other direction is e^0.419. The 24,000 points paint 7,352 distinct marks at the resolution this is drawn at, which is itself a measurement of how little of the plane the set occupies.

The fold that has to be there

Two trajectories that separate exponentially, in a region they can never leave, are being asked to do two incompatible things. The resolution is that the motion is folded back on itself over and over, and the object that survives infinitely many foldings is neither a curve nor a patch of surface — it has a dimension between the two, and the number can be measured two entirely different ways.

7 figures · part 3 on Chaos

Four beads, four heights, one arrival time. One arch of a cycloid of radius 1, drawn with four beads on it at heights 0.061, 0.235, 0.592, 2.000 — a range of 33.0 to one. Each bead's time to slide, from rest and without friction, to the bottom of the arch is computed as a quadrature of ds/v along the curve as drawn, and the four answers are 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s: identical to 6.9e-13 of themselves. The closed form for this curve is π√(a/g) = 1.003205 s, which the quadrature reproduces without being told it. A bead let go at the cusp travels 5.7 times as far as the lowest one and arrives with it, because the extra distance is exactly paid for by the extra speed the extra height buys.

The curve that does not ask where it started

A pendulum's period depends on how far it swings, and the dependence is small but never zero. There is exactly one curve for which it is zero, and the reason has nothing to do with pendulums: on that curve the height above the bottom is proportional to the square of the distance travelled along it, which makes the motion harmonic by construction rather than by approximation.

7 figures · part 6 on Pendulum

Waves

Oscillation, and everything that turns out to be an oscillation.

A sine on its way to a vertical face. One period of a sine, followed by the equation whose only nonlinearity is that the local speed depends on the local height. The profiles are at σ = t/t_b of 0, 0.3, 0.6, 0.9, 0.995, each obtained by solving the implicit relation u = u₀(x − (c₀+βu)t) for u at every point by bisection — and checked against the partial differential equation itself, which it satisfies to 2.6e-7. The crest travels faster than the trough, so the descending front leans forward and the ascending one leans back; the wave stays exactly as tall as it started and exactly as long, and only its shape changes. The steepest gradient grows as one over (1 − σ) — measured here as 9.83 times its initial value at σ = 0.9, against ten — so it is infinite at σ = 1 and the curve has a vertical tangent. The picture cannot be drawn past that point, which is not a failure of the drawing: the solution genuinely becomes three-valued, and what actually happens is a jump whose width is set by the dissipation this equation does not contain.

The front that steepens until it cannot

In a linear medium every wave keeps its shape, because every part of it travels at the same speed. Let the speed depend on the height by even a little and the crest overtakes the trough, the front leans forward, and after a time that can be written down the wave demands two values at one place — which is where the description ends and a shock begins.

5 figures · part 7 on Wave motion

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.

5 figures · part 5 on Wave packets

Optics

Light, and the small number of rules it obeys.

The deviation that has a bottom. The angle by which a 60° and a 90° ice prism bends a ray, against the angle at which the ray arrives, for an index of 1.31. Each curve is traced ray by ray through both faces and stops where it stops: outside the plotted range the ray meets the second face beyond the critical angle and never leaves. Both curves have a minimum, and the minimum is the point of the figure twice over. Its value — 21.84° for the 60° prism and 45.73° for the 90° prism — is where the sky puts a halo. And its flatness is why there is a halo at all: near a minimum the deviation changes only in second order, so a wide band of orientations all deliver light to nearly the same angle, and a cloud of randomly tumbling crystals piles up a bright ring there while sending the rest of the light nowhere in particular. The passage at the minimum comes out symmetric — in at 40.92°, out at 40.92° — which was found by searching the traced curve rather than assumed. The window of incidence that gets through at all is 76.5° wide for the 60° prism against 32.2° for the 90° one, a factor of 2.4, and that is why one of the two halos is common and the other is rare.

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.

4 figures · part 4 on Dispersion

A grain that is not on the object. A speckle pattern, computed as the far field of a circular aperture 421 samples in area filled with random phases — which is what a rough surface does to coherent light, and nothing else. The texture is not a picture of the surface: change the phases and the grains move, but their size and their statistics do not. Five shades are drawn here, from the darkest fifth of the range to the brightest. The measured contrast — the standard deviation of the intensity divided by its mean — is 1.0101, against exactly one for a fully developed speckle, and that is a strong statement: it says the most likely intensity anywhere in this pattern is zero, and that the bright grains are as far above the mean as the dark ones are below. Anybody who has pointed a laser at a wall has seen this and most take it for a property of the wall. It is a property of the light and of the aperture looking at it — including, when the aperture is an eye, of the pupil, which is why the pattern swims when the head moves and why its grain size tells an optometrist about the eye rather than about the wall.

The grain that is in the light

Point a laser at a wall and the wall appears to be covered in a fine boiling texture. Nothing on the wall is that size and nothing about the wall decides it: the grain belongs to the aperture looking at it, the statistics are the same for every rough surface there is, and the most likely brightness anywhere in the pattern is zero.

5 figures · part 4 on Coherence

Electromagnetism

Charge, field, and the lines drawn between them.

Every stationary point has a way out. The potential along four lines through the most symmetric point of a symmetric arrangement of 4 equal charges at the corners of a square — the one place a trap might be expected. In the plane of the square the potential rises in every direction; out of the plane it falls. The point is stationary and it is a saddle, which is what Laplace's equation forces: the three second derivatives must sum to zero — computed here as 1.4e-5 against the individual values of order 2e+0 — so if two of them are positive the third must be negative. A particle released here rolls away along the direction that falls. No amount of ingenuity in placing the charges changes this, because the constraint is on the equation rather than on the arrangement, and it is why every real trap for a charged particle either uses time-varying fields, or a magnetic field with a velocity, or a material with a negative response.

Nothing can be held still by a static field

However many charges are arranged, however cleverly, a charge placed among them has somewhere to fall. The reason is one line of arithmetic — the potential in empty space satisfies Laplace's equation, and a solution of that equation has no interior maximum or minimum — and the consequence is that every real trap for a charged particle works by breaking one of the assumptions rather than by being cleverer.

7 figures · part 2 on Potential $A refraction with no wave in it. Field lines crossing the boundary between two dielectrics whose permittivities differ by a factor of 4, at incidences of 12°, 26°, 40°, 54°, 68°. Nothing is oscillating and nothing is travelling: these are static fields, and the only inputs are that the component of E along the surface is the same on both sides and that the component of D across it is. Dividing one condition by the other gives the ratio of the tangents of the two angles, and it comes out equal to the ratio of the permittivities — measured off the constructed directions as 4.000, 4.000, 4.000, 4.000, 4.000, against 4. The lines bend towards the surface on the side with the larger permittivity, which is the opposite sense from a light ray entering glass, and the chart on the right shows the whole relation: it is a version of Snell's law with the sines replaced by tangents, and there is no speed anywhere in it. Two things follow that are worth carrying. A field line meeting a surface at grazing incidence stays nearly parallel to it whatever the materials, so the ratio matters least where the field is largest along the surface. And in the limit of a very large ratio every line comes out very nearly perpendicular on the low side, which is the electrostatic ancestor of a conductor's boundary condition — a conductor is the ratio taken to infinity.$

A refraction with no wave in it

A field line crossing from one dielectric into another bends, by a law that looks exactly like Snell's with the sines replaced by tangents. Nothing is oscillating, nothing is travelling, and no speed appears anywhere in the derivation — only the two conditions that say what a boundary may and may not do to a field.

6 figures · part 3 on Dielectrics

Two loops, two calculations, one number. The coupling between a circular loop of radius 10 cm and a rectangle of 5 by 3 cm tilted at 35° and offset sideways, against how far apart they are along the axis. The two loops differ in area by a factor of 21 and in shape entirely. Two quantities are plotted and they lie on top of one another. One is the flux through the rectangle when a current runs in the circle, obtained by integrating the circle's Biot–Savart field over the rectangle's tilted surface. The other is the flux through the circle's disc when the same current runs in the rectangle, integrated over a disc a hundred times the area. Nothing is shared between the two calculations except the positions of the wires, and they agree to 0.075 per cent — a difference which is the quadrature's, not the physics's. This is reciprocity, and it is not obvious: there is no reason from the geometry why a small loop should catch as much of a big one's field as the big one catches of the small one's. It follows from the double line integral the two quantities can both be reduced to, which is symmetric in the two loops — and that reduction is the argument, not this figure, which is the check that the argument is true of the actual fields.

The coupling that is the same both ways

A small loop and a large one catch the same fraction of each other's field. Nothing in the geometry suggests it — one has twenty-one times the area of the other — and the two quantities are computed here by two integrals with nothing in common, over two surfaces of different shapes, agreeing to seven parts in ten thousand.

4 figures · part 4 on Induction

The screening that survives to zero frequency. How far a magnetic field gets into copper against how fast it is changing, drawn beside the London depth of a superconductor with a carrier density of 6.0e+28 per cubic metre. The metal's curve falls as one over the square root of the frequency — measured on the drawn curve as -0.5000 against −½ — and it is a straight line on these axes with no bottom: at a hundred hertz the field reaches nine millimetres in, and at zero frequency it reaches all the way through, because a normal metal screens by dissipating and a steady field dissipates nothing. The superconductor's line is flat at 21.7 nanometres. The frequency does not appear in the expression for it, so there is nothing for it to depend on, and the screening is as complete at zero frequency as at any other. The two lines cross at 9.0e+12 hertz, in the far infrared, and above that the ordinary metal is actually the better screen — which is a useful corrective, because a superconductor's advantage is not that it screens harder but that it does not need the field to be changing. What the picture cannot show is where the flat line stops: above the energy gap the pairs break, the superconductor becomes an ordinary metal, and the flat line turns into a sloping one.

The field that is pushed out

A perfect conductor keeps whatever field was inside it when its resistance vanished. A superconductor expels the field either way, and the difference between remembering and expelling is the experiment that showed superconductivity is a state of matter rather than a very good conductor.

5 figures · part 1 on Superconductivity

Thermodynamics

Heat, disorder, and the one law with a direction in it.

The temperature that runs off the top of the scale. On the left, the entropy of a collection of two-level systems against how many of them are in the upper level. It rises, reaches 0.69314 per spin — which is ln 2, and is where half of them are up — and then falls, because a system with every spin up is as orderly as one with every spin down. On the right, the slope of that curve, which is one over the temperature. Below the maximum it is positive and ordinary: adding energy adds entropy, and the temperature is what everybody expects. At the maximum it is zero, which means the temperature is infinite. Past it the slope is negative — adding energy now removes entropy — and the temperature is negative. Such a system is not cold. It is hotter than any positive temperature whatever: put it in contact with anything at all and energy flows out of it, because that raises the total entropy. The quantity that orders systems by which way heat flows is not the temperature but its reciprocal, which runs smoothly from large and positive through zero to negative, and it is the temperature that has the discontinuity. None of this is possible unless the energy has a ceiling, which is why it happens in a spin system and not in anything that can move: a gas has no upper bound on its kinetic energy, so its entropy never turns over and its temperature is never negative.

Hotter than any temperature there is

A system whose energy has a ceiling can be pushed past the point where adding energy adds entropy. Its temperature is then negative — and negative temperatures are not cold. They sit above every positive temperature on the only scale that decides which way heat flows, and a working laser is at one.

4 figures · part 3 on Third law

Throttling a gas, and the curve that says which way it goes. Curves of constant enthalpy for a van der Waals gas, in temperature and pressure both measured against the critical values. A gas pushed slowly through a plug or a valve keeps its enthalpy, so it moves along one of these curves — from right to left, since the pressure falls. Where a curve slopes upward to the right the gas cools as it expands; where it slopes downward it warms. An ideal gas would give horizontal lines and no change at all, because its enthalpy depends on the temperature alone; every curve here is bent, and the bending is the attraction between molecules and the room they take up, fighting. The dashed line through the tops of the curves is the inversion curve, and the maxima were found on the drawn points rather than put there — they lie on the closed form to 0.65 per cent. Which side of it a gas starts on decides the sign of the effect, and that is the whole of why air can be liquefied by throttling at room temperature and hydrogen cannot: hydrogen has to be pre-cooled below its own inversion temperature first, which is why Dewar needed liquid air before he could get liquid hydrogen, and why Onnes needed liquid hydrogen before he could get helium.

The gas that cools by being let go

Push a gas through a plug and its temperature changes, although no work is done on anything and no heat goes anywhere. Which way it changes depends on where it starts: inside a dome in the pressure–temperature plane it cools, outside it warms, and hydrogen at room temperature is outside — which is why liquid hydrogen needed liquid air first.

5 figures · part 6 on Phase change

Relativity

Space and time, drawn on the same axes.

The far end that has not been told yet. A rod 3 metres long, pushed at one end at time zero. On the left, position across and time upwards, for the two fastest disturbance speeds drawn here, with the light cone beside them: nothing may lean further to the right than that line, which crosses the rod in 10.0 nanoseconds. A rigid rod would be the vertical dashed line — the far end moving at the same instant as the near one — and it is not a limit that a hard material approaches. It is a signal at infinite speed. On the right, how long the far end actually waits, against how fast the disturbance travels, both logarithmic, with every material on it: 8.8 ms at 3.4e+2 m/s, 600.0 μs at 5.0e+3 m/s, 250.0 μs at 1.2e+4 m/s, 100.0 ns at 3.0e+7 m/s, 20.0 ns at 1.5e+8 m/s. The line has slope −1 and the light cone is a hard floor beneath it. Ordinary materials sit four to five decades above that floor, which is why rigidity is such a good approximation and why it is still not a limit: steel's delay is not small compared with light's, it is 6e+4 times larger. Everything usually derived from rigid bodies survives, because the delay is beneath notice in ordinary circumstances. What does not survive is the use of rigidity in an argument about simultaneity, which is where it does real damage: a rod pushed at one end is compressed for as long as the wave takes to cross it, and there is a frame in which its far end is still at rest while its near end is moving.

Nothing is allowed to be rigid

A rigid body would move its far end at the instant its near end was pushed, which is a signal at infinite speed. Relativity forbids it — not approximately, and not as a limit that a hard enough material approaches. What follows is a ceiling on how stiff matter may be, and that ceiling caps the mass of every neutron star.

5 figures · part 3 on Relativistic dynamics $The fuel a starship needs, which is most of the universe. The mass of fuel a rocket must start with, divided by the mass it ends with, against the final speed as a fraction of light's — the vertical axis being the number of decades in that ratio, because the numbers do not fit on any other scale. Each solid curve is one exhaust speed, and each dashed one beside it is what Tsiolkovsky's Newtonian formula would have said. Below about a tenth of light speed the two are indistinguishable; above it they part, and the relativistic curve turns upward without limit as the final speed approaches light's, because what adds linearly is the rapidity rather than the velocity. The photon rocket — exhaust at exactly the speed of light, which is the best any engine can do — needs a mass ratio of 1.7321 to reach half light speed, which is √3 exactly, and 4.4 to reach nine tenths. Those are modest numbers and they are the whole of the good news. A chemical exhaust at 4 km/s needs 10^2968 even to reach a tenth of light speed, which is not a difficult engineering problem but an arithmetic impossibility — there are about 10⁵⁰ atoms in the Earth. What the chart cannot show is the other half of the trip: stopping at the far end squares the ratio, and coming home squares it again.$

The fuel a starship needs

Tsiolkovsky's logarithm survives relativity with one substitution: what adds is the rapidity rather than the velocity. The result is that a photon rocket reaches half light speed on a mass ratio of the square root of three, and a chemical one reaches a tenth of it on a mass ratio with three thousand digits.

5 figures · part 5 on Mass-energy

Quantum

Where the continuous picture runs out, and what replaces it.

What is lost is exactly what is recorded. Fringe visibility against the distinguishability of the record left in the environment, for six couplings between the interferometer and a marker. The points lie on the quarter circle V² + D² = 1, computed here to a part in 10¹² — the visibility from the output probabilities with the marker traced out, and the distinguishability from the overlap of the marker's two states, with nothing shared between the two calculations. The relation is the quantitative form of complementarity, and it is stronger than the usual statement: interference is not lost because something was disturbed, and not lost only when a measurement is made. It is lost exactly to the extent that the environment could in principle say which way the particle went, whether or not anybody looks at the environment. That is why decoherence is a matter of correlation rather than of disturbance: the coherence has not been destroyed but relocated, into a correlation between the particle and something else.

Where the interference goes

A superposition does not stop being a superposition when something interacts with it. What happens is that the coherence moves — out of the system and into a correlation between the system and its surroundings — and the interference disappears from any measurement made on the system alone. For a dust grain in air the move takes 10⁻²⁸ seconds, which is why nothing large has ever been seen in two places.

4 figures · part 3 on Measurement

Three sources, and the number that separates them. The chance of detecting a second photon a delay τ after a first, divided by the chance if the two were independent, for three kinds of light. At long delay every curve is one, which is what independence means. At zero delay they are 2, 1 and 0, and those three numbers are three different physical situations. Thermal light is bunched: its intensity fluctuates, and a photon is more likely to be found where the intensity happened to be high, so it arrives with company for as long as the fluctuation lasts — 4 nanoseconds here. A laser is flat, because a coherent state has no intensity fluctuation to correlate with. And a single emitter is antibunched: it gives zero, exactly, because after emitting it is in its ground state and cannot emit again until it has been re-excited, which takes 12 nanoseconds. The zero is the important one. Every classical field, of every possible intensity distribution, has g²(0) at least one — the inequality follows from the fact that the mean square of a real positive quantity is at least the square of its mean. A measurement below one is not merely evidence for photons; it is a result no wave theory can produce.

The experiment a wave cannot pass

The photoelectric effect is offered everywhere as the proof that light is quantised, and it is not one — a classical wave falling on quantised matter reproduces every feature of it. The measurement that no wave can pass is a different one: send single photons at a beam splitter and count how often both detectors fire.

5 figures · part 3 on Photon

Two levels that refuse to cross. On the left, the energies of a two-state system as one state is swept past the other, for couplings of 0, 0.05, 0.15, 0.35 electronvolts. With no coupling at all the two levels cross, which is the dotted pair. With any coupling whatever they do not: the eigenvalues are plus and minus half the square root of the squared detuning plus four times the squared coupling, so the closest approach is exactly twice the coupling — measured off the drawn curves as 0.000, 0.100, 0.300, 0.700 eV against 2V, agreeing to 0.0e+0. Far from the crossing the curves rejoin the uncoupled lines, so the repulsion is local: it is largest where the two states are degenerate and dies away as the square of the coupling divided by the detuning. On the right is what makes this more than a picture of two hyperbolas — the character of the upper state, meaning how much of the first basis state is in it. It swaps completely across a region whose width is set by the coupling, so the level that arrives as one thing leaves as the other. That exchange of identity is why the phrase avoided crossing is misleading: nothing is avoided, the labels are.

The crossing that never happens

Two energy levels swept past one another do not cross. Any coupling between them, however small, opens a gap of exactly twice the coupling — and the two levels exchange their identities across it, so the state that arrives as one thing leaves as the other while the labels are what avoided anything.

5 figures · part 3 on Bands

The hole that holds exactly one particle. How likely a second particle is to be found a distance away from a first, relative to a gas with no correlation at all, for three cases that differ in nothing but the symmetry of the state under swapping the two labels. There is no interaction anywhere in this calculation: no Coulomb term, no potential, no force. Distinguishable particles give a flat line, which is what no interaction ought to give. Identical fermions dig a hole that reaches exactly zero at zero separation and fills back in over about a wavelength. Identical bosons do the opposite and pile up to twice the density. Integrating the fermion hole gives 0.9992 particles missing from around each one — exactly one, and the sum rule holds at any density, because raising the density narrows the hole in exact proportion. That is what makes the effect worth a name of its own. It is often called an exchange force and it is not a force: nothing carries momentum between the particles, and no term in the energy is proportional to a distance. It is a statement about which states exist. What follows from it is most of chemistry — the reason two atoms with filled shells repel, the reason a metal's electrons cost so much less Coulomb energy than a random arrangement would, and the reason matter takes up room.

The force with no force in it

Two identical fermions keep apart and two identical bosons crowd together, and neither is being pushed. The Hamiltonian contains no interaction at all: what produces the hole and the pile is which many-particle states exist, and the hole it digs around each electron holds exactly one particle at any density whatever.

4 figures · part 3 on Exclusion

Fluids

Matter that will not hold a shape, and the forces that act in it anyway.

One word, two mechanisms, opposite signs. Viscosity on a logarithmic axis against temperature over the range 280 to 360 kelvin, where gases and liquids can both be measured. The gases rise and the liquids fall, and the two families are separated by three decades of magnitude as well as by sign. The logarithmic slopes at the middle of the range are 0.76 for air, 0.69 for helium, -6.13 for water, -5.41 for ethanol, -23.00 for glycerol, so the steepest liquid responds 30 times more strongly than the gas and in the other direction. Nothing about the word viscosity requires this: what is being measured in both cases is the ratio of a shear stress to a shear rate, and that definition says nothing about what carries the momentum. In a gas it is molecules in free flight, so heating speeds up the carriers; in a liquid the molecules are permanently in contact and what has to happen is one of them getting past its neighbours, so heating removes an obstacle rather than adding a carrier. The obvious question this raises is what a dense gas near its critical point does, where neither picture holds, and the honest answer is that neither formula on this chart applies there at all.

The thickness that goes both ways

Heat a liquid and it thins; heat a gas and it thickens. The two are not a strong effect and a weak one but opposite signs, differing by a factor of thirty in size as well — and the word viscosity names one measurement made on two mechanisms that have almost nothing in common.

5 figures · part 3 on Viscosity

Where a heap stops flowing. The number of motions that cost nothing, against the mean number of contacts each grain has, for a patch of 37 grains. Every point is the rank of an actual rigidity matrix — one row per contact, one column per coordinate — subtracted from the number of coordinates, so it is a measurement of the network rather than a formula about it. The dashed line is Maxwell's count, two coordinates a grain minus half a contact each, which is what the counting alone predicts. The measured curve reaches its floor of three free motions — the rigid-body ones — at a coordination of 4.11, and Maxwell's line reaches zero at exactly four, which is twice the dimension of the plane. That is the isostatic point and the difference between the two numbers is the boundary of a finite patch, whose outer grains have fewer neighbours than they would in an infinite one. Above the threshold the two curves separate: the measured floor stays at three while the count keeps falling, and the gap is the redundancy — contacts whose forces no equilibrium equation can determine. Below it the pack has genuine mechanisms and will rearrange under any load at all. The transition is in the count and not in the material, which is why a fluid and a solid here are made of exactly the same grains.

The heap that becomes a solid

Sand poured into a jar flows; the same sand shaken down and pressed does not. Nothing about the grains has changed — not their size, their hardness, their friction or their density by more than a per cent — and the thing that changed is a count of contacts, which crosses a threshold set by the dimension of space and by nothing else.

7 figures · part 3 on Granular matter

Astrophysics

Gravity read as geometry, and the laws carried where no laboratory can follow.

The distance that forgets the moon

A satellite held together by its own gravity comes apart if it orbits too close, and the distance at which it does contains no reference to its size. Both the tide pulling it apart and the gravity holding it together are proportional to its radius, so the radius cancels twice over and what is left is a ratio of two densities.

7 figures · part 5 on Self-gravity

The light that takes a hundred thousand years to leave

A neutrino made in the Sun's core is at the surface in two and a third seconds. A photon made beside it takes something like a hundred thousand years, through the same material, over the same seven hundred thousand kilometres — and the whole of the difference is one length, entering the answer squared.

4 figures · part 8 on Kinetic theory

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