The collection

Every essay — page 32

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.

A bounce that turns into a swing and back. The share of a swinging spring's oscillation energy that is in its sideways swing rather than its up-and-down bounce, against time in units of the swing's period over 2π, for a spring started bouncing with a stretch of 0.08 of its length and almost no tilt (0.02 rad). When the bounce frequency is exactly twice the swing frequency (red), the energy drains out of the bounce into the swing until 100 per cent of it is swinging, then drains back, over and over. At a ratio of 2.4 (blue) the swing never takes more than 1.5 per cent. The bounce pumps the swing parametrically, twice per swing, which works only when the two keep step.

The spring that swings when it was only bounced

Hang a weight on a spring and pull it straight down: it bounces straight up and down. Unless its bounce happens to be twice as fast as its swing would be as a pendulum. Then the bounce dies away and the weight starts to swing, wider and wider, until the bounce has gone completely — and then the swing dies and the bounce comes back. Two motions that look independent are trading their energy through a resonance, regularly and for ever at small amplitude. Give the spring more energy and the trading becomes chaotic: the same simple rule, with nothing random in it, produces motion that never repeats and that a hundred-millionth of a radian can redirect.

5 figures · part 7 on Chaos
Two ways for a swing to die. A mass on a spring released 10.6 dead-band widths from rest, against time in units of 1/ω. Red: sliding on a dry surface, whose friction is a constant force; each swing is exactly a cosine, and the turning points fall in a straight line by two dead-band widths per half-cycle until the mass stops, 2.5 cycles after release, at −0.60. Blue: the same mass with viscous damping (damping ratio 0.05), whose force is proportional to speed; the swings shrink by the same fraction each cycle, along an exponential, and never stop. The period is the same in both and the same as with no damping at all to within the viscous case's 0.13 per cent.

The swing that dies in a straight line

A pendulum in air loses the same fraction of its swing every cycle, so its amplitude falls along an exponential and, in principle, never quite reaches zero. A mass on a spring sliding over a dry surface does something else. Its friction is a fixed force, so it loses a fixed amount of amplitude every half-swing — the swings shrink in a straight line — and it stops completely, after a countable number of swings, somewhere inside a band around its natural position whose width is the friction divided by the stiffness. Where in that band it stops depends on where it started, which is why a barometer with friction in it is tapped before it is read.

5 figures · part 8 on Friction
A governor that hunts. The speed of an engine with a centrifugal governor after its load is suddenly increased, against time in units of √(ℓ/g), for three amounts of friction in the governor's linkage: damping 0, 0.25, 0.6, against Vyshnegradsky's minimum for this governor, 0.397. With no friction the speed oscillates about its new, slightly lower value with a growing swing — the governor hunts, opening and closing the throttle out of step with the engine — until the arms hit their stops and the curve ends. At damping 0.25, below the minimum, it still hunts, more slowly. At damping 0.6, above the minimum, the oscillation dies away and the engine settles at its new speed. The friction that seems to spoil the mechanism is what makes it work.

The governor that needed friction to work

James Watt's steam engines were kept at a steady speed by two heavy balls on hinged arms, spun by the engine itself: run faster and the balls fly out and close the steam valve; run slower and they drop and open it. The balls stand at a height set by the speed alone. As engines grew and governors were made more sensitive, many began to hunt — speeding and slowing in a growing rhythm, the governor always too late. In 1868 James Clerk Maxwell wrote the equations down and showed why: a governor with no friction cannot settle at all, and the more precisely it is meant to hold the speed, the more friction it needs.

5 figures · part 8 on Circular motion
The number of collisions for heavier and heavier blocks. The number of collisions, simulated one by one, for mass ratios of 1, 10², 10⁴, 10⁶, 10⁸, on a logarithmic axis: 3, 31, 314, 3141, 31415. Each factor of a hundred in the mass ratio adds one digit of π. Nothing in the setup mentions a circle — two blocks, a wall and the conservation of energy and momentum — but energy conservation makes the velocities live on a circle, and the count is how many equal steps of a small angle fit into half of it.

The collisions that count the digits of π

Slide a heavy block towards a light one resting near a wall. The light block is batted between the heavy one and the wall until the heavy block turns round and leaves. Count the collisions. With equal masses there are 3; with one block a hundred times heavier, 31; ten thousand times, 314; a million, 3141. Nothing in two blocks and a wall mentions a circle, but conservation of energy puts their velocities on one, and each collision steps round it by the same small angle. The count is how many such steps fit in half a turn.

5 figures · part 9 on Momentum
A tilt that reaches zero at a definite time. The tilt of the disk against time from 10°, when the losses are set to end the motion after 100 s, for two ways of losing energy: viscous air squeezed out of the thin wedge under the rim (red), which takes energy faster the smaller the tilt, so that α³ falls in a straight line; and a steady rolling resistance at the contact (blue), which takes energy in proportion to the contact rate, so that α to the power 3/2 does. Both fall slowly at first and steeply at the end, and both reach zero tilt at a definite time rather than approaching it for ever: at 99 s, one second before the end, the tilt is 2.15° under the air model and 0.46° under rolling resistance. The disk's energy, (3/2)Mgaα, runs out in a finite time, and with it the tilt.

The disk that spins faster as it stops

A coin spun on a table settles with a whirr that rises in pitch and then stops dead. Everything about it is losing energy, yet the rattle gets faster to the very end. The point where the rim touches the table races round faster and faster as the coin tips flatter, while the coin's face, and the head on it, turns more and more slowly. Two plausible mechanisms of loss both predict that the tilt reaches zero, and the rattle infinity, at a definite instant — a singularity a coin on a kitchen table runs into every time.

5 figures · part 11 on Rotation

Waves

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

A pile of glass plates, added two ways. The transmission of light at normal incidence through a pile of N glass plates (index 1.5) in air, on a logarithmic axis, against N. Dashed: Stokes's 1862 result for light whose reflections add as intensities, T = (1 − R)/(1 + (2N − 1)R) with R = 0.040 per surface, which falls only as 1/N: 0.107 at 100 plates, 0.029 at 400. Solid: the same pile with the reflections added as waves and every plate and gap of random thickness, as ⟨ln T⟩ over 200 random piles (red) and for one pile (grey). It falls in a straight line, by 0.0843 per plate, an exponential decay with a localisation length of 24 plates: 10⁻³ at 100 plates and 10⁻¹⁴ at 400. Interference with random phases does not average away; it traps.

The pile of glass that stops every colour

A sheet of window glass reflects about eight per cent of the light that falls on it. A pile of a hundred sheets, George Stokes calculated in 1862, should still let through a tenth, because each extra sheet only adds a little more reflection to the total. That is right for sunlight, whose colours are too mixed to interfere. For a single colour, with every sheet and every gap a slightly different thickness, the same pile lets through a thousandth, and a pile of four hundred a hundred-millionth of a millionth. Interference with random phases does not average away into the intensity sum. In one dimension it traps every wave, at every wavelength, however weak each reflection is.

5 figures · part 8 on Periodic media
Which waves a moving object can make. The phase speed of waves on deep water against wavelength (red), with horizontal lines at the speeds of an object moving steadily across the surface: 15.0 cm/s, 23.1 cm/s, 30.0 cm/s, 50.0 cm/s. A steady object can only feed waves that keep pace with it, whose phase speed equals its own, and those are where its line meets the curve. At 15 cm/s the line misses the curve entirely: no wave can keep up, and the object leaves no wake. At 23.1 cm/s it touches the curve once. Above that it meets it twice: at 30 cm/s a ripple of 5.6 mm and a gravity wave of 5.2 cm; at 50 cm/s a ripple of 1.9 mm and a gravity wave of 15.8 cm.

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.

5 figures · part 9 on Wave motion
Where cancelling a 500 Hz tone works. Sound at 500 Hz (wavelength 69 cm) arriving from every direction at random, as it does in a room or a cabin, and a small loudspeaker 50 cm to the left of a microphone (black dot), driven to cancel the sound exactly at the microphone. Contours mark where the sum is 20 dB quieter than the original (red), 10 dB quieter (blue), unchanged (grey) and 6 dB louder (black), in a plane through both. The zone at least 10 dB quieter is 12.0 cm across, at right angles to the line from speaker to microphone — 0.18 of a wavelength — and beyond the unchanged contour the cancelling source only adds sound. Silence has been made at a point, not in a room.

The silence that fits in a tenth of a wavelength

Two sounds of equal strength and opposite phase add to nothing, so any noise can be cancelled by playing its inverse. At one point. A microphone and a loudspeaker can silence the air exactly where the microphone is, and nowhere else for certain: in the diffuse sound of a room the quiet zone is a few tenths of a wavelength across, under ten centimetres at a kilohertz, and beyond it the cancelling speaker only adds noise. That is why noise cancellation works in a headphone and not in a room, and why it works on the drone of an engine and not on a voice.

6 figures · part 8 on Superposition
Too little noise, the right amount, too much. The particle's position over 8 cycles of the push (thin grey line, scaled to the wells), with noise of intensity 0.03, 0.085, 0.3 (top to bottom), the barrier being 0.25. With little noise it stays almost always in its starting well and only trembles: 0 hops in eight cycles. With noise 0.085 it hops 30 times, almost always once per half-cycle and almost always while the push is helping — a clean square wave following a push too weak to cause a single hop. With noise 0.3 it hops 285 times, at random, and the push is lost again. There is a best amount of noise, and it is not zero.

The noise that helps a weak signal through

A system that can sit in either of two states, nudged back and forth by a periodic push too weak to switch it, does nothing at all — until noise is added. Then it begins to switch, and with the right amount of noise it switches in step with the push, once each half-cycle, as though the push had been strong enough all along. Too little noise and it never switches; too much and it switches at random. The response peaks at a nonzero noise, which is why the effect is called a resonance, and why crayfish, paddlefish and human fingertips appear to use it.

5 figures · part 9 on Resonance
Earthquake waves through the Earth, and the ring they do not reach. Paths of compressional (P) waves from an earthquake at the top of the Earth, traced through the mantle, the liquid outer core (orange) and the solid inner core (darker), drawn in one half of a cross-section: rays that stay in the mantle (blue) and rays that pass through the core (red), with Snell's law applied shell by shell to a reference model of the Earth's speeds. The mantle rays curve back up because the speed rises with depth, and reach the surface no further than 97° from the source. Rays that strike the core are bent sharply inward, because the speed drops from 13.7 to 8.1 km/s at its surface, and those that turn in the liquid outer core come out no closer than 144°. Between the two, marked on both sides, is a ring of the surface that these direct P waves do not reach: the P-wave shadow, which is how the core was found. A few rays that just enter the solid inner core (purple, dashed), where the speed jumps up again, are bent back out early and land inside the shadow, as close as 115° — the faint arrivals from which the inner core was found.

The shadow that shows the core is liquid

Nobody has been more than a few kilometres into the Earth, and its interior was mapped from the timing of earthquake waves alone. The decisive observations were of waves that do not arrive. Seismometers between about 100° and 140° from a large earthquake record no direct compressional wave, because something deep inside bends the rays away; and over two-fifths of the planet beyond 100° no direct shear wave arrives at all, because that something cannot be sheared. A slow, liquid core casts both shadows, and a few faint waves inside the first one revealed a solid core within it.

5 figures · part 10 on Wave motion

Optics

Light, and the small number of rules it obeys.

Rays inside a drop never reach the critical angle. Rays of light entering a drop of water (index 1.333) from the left at four heights — 0.3, 0.6, 0.85, 0.97 of the radius — followed through six internal reflections, each chord drawn with a width proportional to the light it carries. Every chord inside a sphere meets the surface at the same angle at both ends, so each ray strikes the inside of the drop again and again at its refraction angle: 13.0°, 26.8°, 39.6°, 46.7°, all below the critical angle of 48.6°. None is ever totally reflected; at each contact most of the light leaves, and what is left inside dwindles — the light that, leaving after one and two reflections, makes the primary and secondary rainbows.

The drop that cannot hold the light it lets in

Light inside water meeting the surface at more than 48.6° is totally reflected, and every raindrop is made of water. Yet no ray of sunlight that enters a raindrop is ever totally reflected inside it. A sphere's geometry forbids it: a ray refracted on the way in meets the inside of the surface at its refraction angle, and keeps meeting it at that same angle every time it bounces, and that angle is always smaller than the critical one. The light leaks out a little at every bounce, which is why there are rainbows at all. Light born inside the drop is another matter, and a sphere can keep it for ever.

5 figures · part 7 on Total internal reflection
The phase a beam gains through its focus. How far the phase of a focused beam, measured on its axis, runs ahead of a plane wave of the same frequency, in cycles, against distance from the focus in units of the Rayleigh range π w₀²/λ, for a beam focused to a point (solid) and one focused only in one direction, to a line (dashed). The point-focused beam lags a quarter of a cycle far before the focus and leads by a quarter far after, gaining half a cycle in all, most of it within a Rayleigh range of the focus: 0.25 of a cycle by z = zR, 0.40 by 3 zR. The line focus gains half as much, a quarter cycle. This is the Gouy phase, measured by Louis Georges Gouy in 1890.

The half cycle a focus adds

A beam of light brought to a focus and allowed to spread again comes out half a wavelength ahead of where a plain wave of the same colour would be, although no part of it travelled faster than light. Louis Georges Gouy found the shift in 1890 by interfering a focused beam with an unfocused one. It is the price of confinement: a beam narrow enough to focus is a spread of directions, the parts travelling at an angle make slower progress along the axis, and the spread is greatest at the focus. The same half cycle decides the frequencies at which every laser cavity can resonate.

5 figures · part 10 on Diffraction
The width a self-focusing beam is forced to. The root-mean-square width of a collimated Gaussian beam in a Kerr medium, relative to its starting width, against distance in Rayleigh ranges, at powers of 0, 0.5, 1, 1.5 and 3 times the Gaussian threshold, the wavelength squared over 2π n0 n2. This curve is exact, not a model: the mean square width of any beam obeyed by the two-dimensional cubic wave equation is a parabola in distance, its coefficient set by one minus the power over the threshold, whatever happens to its shape. At low power the beam spreads by diffraction. At exactly the threshold its width never changes. Above it the parabola reaches zero at a finite distance — 1.41 Rayleigh ranges at 1.5 times, 0.71 at three times — which a width cannot do, so the beam must have collapsed to a point at or before it. The equation stops being true there; the glass usually breaks first.

The beam that focuses itself

In glass the refractive index rises very slightly with the intensity of the light, so a beam that is brightest in the middle writes a converging lens into the glass it is crossing. Diffraction spreads it at the same time. Both effects grow in the same proportion as the beam is narrowed, so neither can win by a change of size — only by a change of power. Above a critical power, 4.3 megawatts in fused silica, the beam is forced to collapse within a finite distance, and every high-power laser is built around not letting that happen where it is not wanted.

5 figures · part 8 on Fermat
A lens with its glass taken out, focusing the same. Two lenses of focal length 200 mm and aperture 100 mm in acrylic (n = 1.49), each with its flat face to a parallel beam and the exact aspheric curve that sends every ray to one focus: solid (top), 12.2 mm thick at the centre, and the same curve cut into 13 rings 1 mm deep with the glass between them removed (bottom), on a backing 0.4 mm thick. Thickness is drawn six times larger than height, and the distance to the focus is not to scale. Every ray leaves each lens at the same angle from the same height, because the angle a ray turns through at a surface depends only on the slope of the surface where it crosses, and every ring keeps the slope it had. What was removed was glass the rays travelled through without turning.

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.

5 figures · part 10 on Refraction
The cavities that hold a beam. Every two-mirror cavity as a point (g1, g2), with g = 1 − L/R for each mirror. The shaded region, between the axes and the hyperbolas g1 g2 = 1, holds a ray for ever; everywhere else a ray is walked out. The commonest designs sit on the boundary: two flat mirrors (1, 1), the confocal cavity with the mirrors' foci together (0, 0), the concentric cavity with their centres together (−1, −1), and a flat mirror facing a curved one at its own radius (1, 0). A boundary cavity is stable in principle and marginal in practice, which is why the confocal one, sitting at the corner where the two shaded regions touch, is usually built a little inside it.

The two mirrors that hold a beam

A laser is two mirrors facing each other, and the light in it makes thousands of round trips before it leaves. Whether a ray stays between the mirrors for ever or is walked out after a few bounces depends on a single number, built from their spacing and their curvatures, and the answer has a sharp edge: two flat mirrors sit exactly on it, which is why the first lasers were so hard to align. The criterion is the one that decides whether a pumped swing grows, whether a wave crosses a crystal, and whether a particle beam stays in an accelerator.

5 figures · part 11 on Imaging

Thermodynamics

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

How far below the air a surface facing the sky falls. How much colder than the air a surface facing the night sky becomes, when insulated from below and with air at 5 °C, against how strongly the air can warm it, measured by the convection coefficient (3 to 5 W/m²K in still air, 20 or more in a breeze), for sky emissivities of 0.72, 0.82, 0.97 — clear and dry, clear and humid, and overcast. Under a clear dry sky in still air the surface sits 12.3 °C below the air; a breeze of 20 W/m²K halves that and more; under cloud the drop is 1.3 °C. The surface is radiating to something colder than the air: the upper atmosphere and, through the window near ten micrometres, space.

The cold reservoir overhead

On a clear, still night a car roof can grow frost while the air around it is several degrees above freezing. Nothing in the air is cold enough to freeze water. The roof is radiating its heat upward to a sky whose radiation back is that of something twenty degrees colder than the air — part of it the cold upper atmosphere, part of it space itself, seen through a window in the infrared where the air is transparent. The clear sky is a cold reservoir available everywhere, and it can be used: to make frost, to cool buildings below the air temperature even in sunshine, and in principle to run an engine at night.

5 figures · part 9 on Heat engines
How much of supercooled water freezes in an instant. The fraction of a body of supercooled water that freezes at once when it is nucleated, against how far below 0 °C it had been cooled: the ice that forms releases latent heat until the whole of it is back at 0 °C, and freezing stops there until heat is taken away. Solid: with water's measured heat capacity, which rises steeply below about −20 °C; dashed: with the heat capacity it has at 0 °C. At −15 °C, 19.1 per cent freezes at once; at −20 °C, 25.7 per cent; at −38 °C, the coldest liquid water reaches before it freezes by itself, 51 per cent. The rest stays liquid at 0 °C. Water would have to be cooled about 80 degrees for all of it to freeze at once, and no liquid water survives that long.

The supercooled water that only partly freezes

Water can be cooled well below 0 °C and stay liquid, and when a crystal finally starts, the whole bottle seems to turn to ice at once. It does not. Freezing releases heat, and with nowhere for that heat to go in the instant of freezing, it warms everything back to 0 °C — at which point freezing must stop. Water cooled to −15 °C freezes about a fifth at once; to −38 °C, the coldest liquid water gets, about half. The rest has to wait for the surroundings to take the heat away, and a hand warmer is the same arithmetic run above body temperature.

5 figures · part 13 on Phase change
Insulating a thin wire makes it lose more heat. The heat lost per metre from a wire 2 mm across held 40 K above the air, against the outer radius of the PVC insulation round it (k = 0.19 W/m K), with the surface losing 10 W/m²K to still air by convection and radiation, on a logarithmic radius axis; dashed, the bare wire. The first layers of insulation increase the loss, from 2.51 to a maximum of 12.11 W/m at an outer radius of 19 mm — the critical radius k/h — because they add surface faster than they add resistance. Beyond the critical radius the loss falls again, but so slowly — the resistance of the insulation grows only as the logarithm of its radius — that it does not get back down to the bare wire's until the PVC is 178 km thick. Any sheath a cable could carry makes it lose more heat, not less.

The insulation that makes a wire lose more heat

Wrap a hot water pipe in glass wool and it loses less heat. Wrap a thin electrical wire in PVC and it loses more — four times more, at the best thickness — and runs cooler for it. The insulation adds a resistance to heat flowing through it, but it also adds surface for the heat to leave from, and around a thin enough cylinder the surface wins. The crossover is a radius, k/h, set by the insulation and the air; below it, more insulation means more heat lost, and a small enough ball cannot be insulated by anything wrapped round it.

5 figures · part 13 on Diffusion

Relativity

Space and time, drawn on the same axes.

Quantum

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

Fluids

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

A pond that is hottest at the bottom and does not turn over. Temperature, salt and density against depth in a salt-gradient solar pond: a fresh upper layer 0.3 m deep at 25 °C, a gradient layer 1.2 m thick in which the salt rises from 2 to 20 per cent and the temperature from 25 to 80 °C, and a storage layer of hot brine 2 m deep (shaded bands are the two mixed layers). The density rises steadily downward, from 1011 to 1122 kg/m³, so the hottest water is also the heaviest and stays at the bottom. The dashed line is the same temperatures with no added salt: the bottom water would then be 25 kg/m³ lighter than the top, and the pond would overturn.

The pond that is hottest at the bottom

Water heated from below rises, which is why a pond in the sun is never much warmer than the air: the heat is carried to the surface and lost there. Put a metre of salt gradient in the way and the hot water at the bottom is also the heaviest, cannot rise, and keeps its heat, behind an insulating layer that sunlight passes straight through. Ponds built this way reach eighty degrees under an ordinary sky. The salt does not collect any extra light. What it buys is temperature.

5 figures · part 10 on Stratification
Where the level goes when a floating ice cube melts. The change in level when a 30 g ice cube floating in a glass 7 cm across has melted completely, against the density of the liquid it floats in (the liquid must be denser than ice, 917 kg/m³, or the cube sinks). In fresh water the level does not move: the meltwater exactly fills the volume the ice displaced. In seawater it rises 0.21 mm and in saturated brine 1.3 mm, because the ice was displacing a denser liquid than it melts into; in castor oil, which is lighter than water and does not mix with it, the level falls 0.32 mm as the meltwater sinks beneath the oil. The change is the meltwater's volume minus the displaced volume, m/ρw − m/ρ, spread over the glass.

The floating ice that still raises the sea

An ice cube melting in a glass of water leaves the level exactly where it was, and the reason is exact: a floating body displaces its own weight, and the meltwater has that weight. The same argument is often used to say that melting sea ice and ice shelves cannot raise the sea. It nearly works. The ice was floating in salt water and melts into fresh, which is lighter, so the meltwater overfills the hole by almost three per cent — and the ice that really fills the sea is the part of a grounded glacier above the thickness at which it would float.

5 figures · part 10 on Buoyancy
The waterfall hidden in a river mouth. The height of waterfall that would release as much energy per cubic metre of fresh water as mixing it into a large body of salt solution, against the solution's salt content by mass, for sodium chloride at 25 °C: the osmotic pressure divided by the weight of a cubic metre of water. Seawater is worth a 290 m fall; the brine rejected by a desalination plant, about twice as salty, 617 m; a saturated salt solution 3864 m. The curve bends upward because concentrated brine is less ideal than dilute and its osmotic coefficient rises above one. Every river mouth on Earth is a waterfall of this height that nobody sees, since all of its energy goes into the stirring of the estuary.

The waterfall at every river mouth

Where a river meets the sea, fresh water mixes into salt and the free energy of mixing is released as nothing more useful than a little warmth and stirring. It is not a little energy: a cubic metre of river water entering the sea gives up as much as if it fell 290 metres. A desalination membrane run backwards can catch some of it, and the arithmetic of doing so is the arithmetic of every source with an internal resistance — the most power comes at half the pressure, and half the work is the price of getting it quickly.

5 figures · part 9 on Osmosis

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