The collection

Every essay — page 33

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.

Waves

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

Optics

Light, and the small number of rules it obeys.

Electromagnetism

Charge, field, and the lines drawn between them.

A ring pushed and pulled, and pushed a little more. Over two cycles of the alternating supply, for a ring whose reactance equals its resistance (ωL/R = 1): the flux through the ring (grey), which also sets the radial field that pushes the ring along the core; the voltage induced round the ring (dashed); the current, which lags that voltage by 45° because of the ring's own inductance (blue); and the force along the axis, current times radial field (red). The force pushes the ring away from the coil for part of each half-cycle and pulls it back for the rest; with the lag, the pushes outweigh the pulls, and the average (dotted) is 0.250 of the peak flux–current product. With no lag the pushes and pulls would cancel exactly. The ring jumps because its current is late.

The ring that jumps because its current is late

Slip an aluminium ring over the iron core of a coil, switch on the alternating current, and the ring leaps off the top. The usual explanation is Lenz's law: the ring's induced current opposes the change, so the ring is repelled. But an alternating field changes both ways every cycle, and an induced current that simply opposed the change would be pushed and pulled equally and stay put. The ring jumps only because its current runs late, held back by its own inductance — which is why a cooled ring jumps far higher and a ring with a saw cut through it does not move.

5 figures · part 8 on Induction
Water drops that charge two cans to a spark. The voltage between the two cans of a Kelvin water dropper against time, on a logarithmic axis, starting from a stray difference of 1 V, for 10, 20, 40 drops a second in each stream; drops 3 mm across, each with a capacitance of 0.17 pF to its ring, cans of 20 pF. Each drop carries a charge induced by the opposite can's potential into its own can, which raises the opposite can's induced charge on the next drop: the difference grows exponentially, multiplying by e every 6.0 s at 20 drops a second. It passes the 10 kV that will jump a few millimetres of air after 55 s — from one volt to a spark, with nothing but falling water.

The water drops that charge themselves to a spark

Two streams of water drip from one earthed pipe through two metal rings into two metal cans, and each ring is wired to the opposite can. Nothing is charged to begin with, nothing is rubbed, nothing is plugged in. Within a minute a spark cracks between the cans at ten thousand volts. A stray volt between them makes the drops forming in one ring pick up a slight charge, which they carry to the can that makes the other ring's drops pick up the opposite charge — a loop in which every drop strengthens the imbalance that charged it. Kelvin built it in 1867; it is a dynamo made of water and gravity.

5 figures · part 7 on Potential
A current limited by the wire's circumference. The largest supercurrent a wire can carry before the field of its own current destroys superconductivity at its surface, Ic = 2πaHc, against the wire's diameter, for lead, mercury and tin at 1.5 K, on logarithmic axes; dashed, a niobium–titanium wire carrying 3,000 A/mm² in a field of 5 tesla, which grows with the cross-section rather than the circumference. A lead wire 1 mm across carries 192 A — 244 A/mm² — and one 1 cm across only ten times as much, at a tenth of the density. Below 81 micrometres lead carries more than niobium–titanium; above it niobium–titanium wins by a factor that grows with the wire, and it does so in a field of 5 tesla, where lead cannot superconduct at all.

The current a superconductor stops with its own field

A superconducting wire has no resistance, so it seems it should carry any current at all. It carries a definite amount and no more, and the amount is set not by the metal's ability to conduct but by the field the current itself makes: when that field at the wire's surface reaches the critical field, superconductivity fails there. The rule makes the largest current proportional to the wire's radius rather than its area, makes a thick wire worse per square millimetre than a thin one, and explains why the first superconducting magnet, wound in 1913, did not work.

5 figures · part 8 on Superconductivity
Electrons that reach the anode, and electrons that turn back. Paths of electrons leaving a cathode 4 mm across at rest, in a cylindrical diode with an anode 8 mm across held at 4000 V, with no space charge, for axial magnetic fields of 0.80, 0.98, 1.02 and 1.30 times Hull's cut-off field of 142.2 millitesla; computed by integrating the Lorentz force. Below the cut-off the field only bends the path, and the electron still reaches the anode — at 0.98 of the cut-off it arrives almost tangentially. Just above it the electron turns back just short of the anode and returns to the cathode, then repeats the arc further round; at 1.30 times the cut-off it turns back well inside. Nothing reaches the anode, and the current stops completely within a few per cent of the field.

The field at which no electron reaches the anode

Put a hot wire inside a metal tube, make the tube positive, and electrons stream across from wire to tube. Add a magnetic field along the axis and they curve on the way, and still arrive — until, at one definite field, every one of them turns back a hair's breadth short of the tube and the current stops dead. The field at which it happens can be found without knowing anything about how the voltage is distributed between the wire and the tube, because one quantity the electron carries is fixed by the magnetic field alone. The microwave oven runs just inside that line.

5 figures · part 8 on Magnetism

Thermodynamics

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

Relativity

Space and time, drawn on the same axes.

The photon a fast electron throws back. The highest energy of a laser photon scattered straight back by an electron it meets head-on, against the electron's energy, for a carbon-dioxide laser, an infrared and a green one, on logarithmic axes: dashed, 4γ² times the laser photon's energy, the double Doppler shift of a mirror moving at the electron's speed; solid, the exact edge with the electron's recoil, E·x/(1 + x) with x = 4γε/mc²; dotted, the electron's own energy, which no scattered photon reaches. A 1 GeV electron turns 1.17-eV infrared photons into gamma rays of 17.6 MeV, within 1.8 per cent of the mirror's figure. At 46.6 GeV and 2.35 eV the mirror's figure is 78.2 GeV, more than the electron has to give; the photon actually comes back with 29.2 GeV.

The photon a fast electron throws back

Shine an infrared laser at a beam of gigaelectronvolt electrons and gamma rays come back out of the collision, each carrying seventeen million times the energy of the laser photon it started as. The electron acts as a mirror moving at nearly the speed of light, and a moving mirror multiplies the energy of light by two Doppler factors. Push the electron's energy far enough and the mirror arithmetic promises photons more energetic than the electron itself — and the photon's own momentum, which the mirror ignored, steps in to stop it.

5 figures · part 8 on Length contraction
Pushed forward, and left at rest. The path of an electron, initially at rest, overtaken by a 6-cycle pulse of linearly polarised light travelling to the right, for peak field strengths a₀ = 0.5, 1, 2, where a₀ = 1 is the strength at which the electron's quiver becomes relativistic; lengths in wavelengths of the light, the vertical axis along the electric field. While the pulse passes, the electron quivers across the beam and is pushed along it. When the pulse has gone it is at rest again — not moving, with none of the light's energy — but displaced forward by 0.14, 0.56, 2.25 wavelengths respectively, a distance growing as a₀². The quiver's width grows only as a₀: at a₀ = 2 the electron is pushed forward several times further than it swings sideways.

The light that moves an electron and pays it nothing

A pulse of light strong enough to throw an electron forward at a large fraction of the speed of light passes over it, and the electron is left exactly as it was found — at rest, with none of the light's energy — except that it is somewhere else. The reason is two quantities the electron cannot change while a plane wave is passing, and the same two quantities fix the figure eight it traces inside the wave and the angle at which it leaves a real, focused beam carrying the energy it managed to keep.

5 figures · part 14 on Relativistic dynamics
One lever, two frames, two different torques. A right-angled lever pivoted at its corner, with arms of length L, held still by a force F at the end of each arm, perpendicular to it. Left, in the lever's own frame: torque FL anticlockwise from the horizontal arm's force, FL clockwise from the vertical arm's, and they cancel. Right, the same lever seen moving to the right at 0.8 of the speed of light: the horizontal arm, along the motion, is contracted to L/γ = 0.60L, and the force on it, which is across the motion, is reduced to F/γ = 0.60F; the vertical arm and its force, along the motion, are unchanged. The torques are now 0.36FL and FL, and the lever is twisted clockwise by 0.64FL — the square of its speed as a fraction of light's. It does not turn.

The lever that is twisted and does not turn

A right-angled lever held still by two equal forces has no net torque on it. Watch the same lever go by at high speed and one arm is shorter, one force is weaker, and the torques no longer cancel — yet the lever goes by without turning. Nothing is wrong with either frame's arithmetic. The forces are doing work on the moving lever, the energy they put in is flowing through its arms, and a flow of energy carries momentum that points across the lever's motion: a body that moves straight with a momentum that does not.

5 figures · part 9 on Mass-energy

Quantum

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

A current that falls every 4.9 volts. The share of electrons reaching the anode of a mercury-vapour tube against the accelerating voltage, from a simulation of 3000 electrons at each voltage: the electrons must arrive at the grid with more than 1.5 eV to climb the last small retarding voltage, and lose 4.886 eV — the energy of mercury's first excited state — whenever they hit an atom with at least that much, after a random further distance averaging 0.03 of the gap. The current rises with voltage, then collapses each time the electrons have gained just enough to excite an atom and too little left to reach the anode: minima at 6.3, 11.2, 16.1, 21.0, 25.8 V, about 4.9 V apart. Energy was being handed to the atoms in lumps of 4.886 eV and in no other amount — the first direct evidence, in 1914, that an atom's internal energy is quantised.

The electrons that pay in fixed amounts

Fire electrons through mercury vapour and raise the voltage that drives them, and the current they carry should simply rise. In 1914 James Franck and Gustav Hertz found it rising, then collapsing, then rising again, over and over, every 4.9 volts. Below that energy an electron bounces off a mercury atom and keeps almost everything; above it, it can hand the atom exactly 4.9 electronvolts and no other amount. The atom will accept energy only in the size of the gap between its levels — shown here by collisions rather than by light, and misread by its discoverers as something else entirely.

5 figures · part 7 on Atomic structure
What an amplifier does to a signal's uncertainty. A signal drawn in the plane of its two quadratures — the in-phase and out-of-phase parts of a wave — as a disc one standard deviation across: a coherent input (black), with the vacuum's own uncertainty; and three outputs at a gain of 4: what a noiseless amplifier would give, the input disc scaled up by √G (dashed), which quantum mechanics forbids; what the least noisy phase-insensitive amplifier gives (blue), the same centre with a disc 1.323 times wider again; and what a phase-sensitive amplifier gives (red), the in-phase quadrature stretched by √G and the other squeezed by 1/√G, with no noise added. Referred back to the input, the phase-insensitive amplifier has added 0.375 of a quantum of noise; the signal's distance from the origin, measured in its own spread, has fallen by 0.756.

The noise every amplifier must add

An amplifier that magnifies a signal without caring about its phase must also add noise, and not because of hot transistors or bad design. However perfect it is, it adds at least half a quantum of noise referred to its input — exactly as much as the vacuum fluctuations the signal already carried — so a faint coherent signal always leaves with half its signal-to-noise ratio. The reason is the same rule that makes position and momentum uncertain, applied to the two halves of a wave, and an amplifier that broke it would be a machine for copying quantum states.

5 figures · part 6 on Uncertainty
A resistance counted in whole numbers. The Hall resistance of a gallium-arsenide layer with 3 × 10¹⁵ electrons per square metre, against the perpendicular field (solid), beside the classical B/ne (dotted); and the resistance along the current, on an arbitrary scale (red). Classically the Hall resistance rises in proportion to the field. In the layer it climbs in steps and stays on flat plateaus at h/νe² — 25813, 12906, 8604, 6453 ohms — each centred where the classical line crosses it, at integer filling. On each plateau the resistance along the current falls to zero: the current flows with no dissipation at all. Between plateaus both change. The model drawn here gives each Landau level a width 0.18 of the level spacing and lets only the middle 0.16 of it carry current across the sample.

The resistance counted in whole numbers

Pass a current along a thin layer of electrons in a strong magnetic field and measure the voltage across it. Classically the ratio rises steadily with the field. In fact it climbs in steps, and on each step it sits at the fundamental constant h/e² divided by a whole number — 25,812.807 ohms, then half that, then a third — the same to better than a part in a thousand million in every sample, every material and every laboratory, however dirty the layer and however irregular its shape. The steps exist because of the dirt, and they are exact because of a count that disorder cannot change.

5 figures · part 7 on Bands
The peak that rises out of a cloud. A slice through the shadow a released cloud of a million atoms casts after it has expanded, the measurement by which condensates are seen, at 1.1, 0.8 and 0.5 times the transition temperature: the thermal atoms, whose spread of speeds sets the cloud's width, give a broad rounded profile; the condensed atoms, all in one state with only the small spread of momenta their trap allowed, give a narrow peak at the centre, drawn here with the shape repulsion between the atoms gives it. Above Tc there is only the broad cloud. At 0.8 Tc a sharp peak stands up from its middle, holding 47 per cent of the atoms; at 0.5 Tc the peak holds 87 per cent and the thermal wings have shrunk. The two-component shape — a narrow peak on a broad base — was the signature that announced the first gaseous condensates in 1995.

The condensate a trap makes

A gas of atoms held in a magnetic trap and cooled to a few hundred billionths of a degree does something no gas in a box does at any temperature it can reach: a large share of its atoms falls into the trap's single lowest state, and a sharp peak rises out of the cloud. The reason is counting. The trap's excited states can hold only so many atoms at a given temperature, and the number grows as the cube of the temperature — so below one temperature the atoms run out of room, and every atom that does not fit has only one place to go.

5 figures · part 7 on Superfluidity

Fluids

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

Astrophysics

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

An orbit, and the circle its velocities make. Left: an orbit of eccentricity 0.6 round a central mass (dot), integrated step by step, with the velocity drawn as an arrow at twelve points equally spaced in time. Right: the same twelve velocities drawn from a single point, the origin of velocity. Their tips lie on a circle — the hodograph — of radius GM/h, whose centre is displaced from the origin by e times that radius, here 0.6: the integrated velocities stay on it to within one part in ten thousand. The fastest velocity, at the closest approach, is 1.60 times GM/h and the slowest, at the furthest point, 0.40 times. The tips are bunched near the slow end, because the body spends most of its time far away.

The velocity that always lies on a circle

A planet on an elliptical orbit speeds up and slows down, its velocity swinging round as it goes. Draw all its velocities from a single point and their tips fall exactly on a circle — not an ellipse, a circle — offset from the point by the orbit's eccentricity. Hamilton noticed this in 1846; it holds for every orbit under an inverse-square force and for no other force; and it turns the ellipse into something that can be proved with a ruler and compass, as Feynman did in a lecture that was lost for thirty years.

5 figures · part 6 on Orbit stability
Two ways to spin, against angular momentum. The spin Ω²/πGρ of the Maclaurin spheroids (blue) and the Jacobi ellipsoids (red) against their angular momentum, in units of √(GM³R) with R the radius of a sphere of the same volume. The two families meet at the bifurcation, angular momentum 0.304. Below it only spheroids exist. Above it a body of given angular momentum could be either, and the two differ: the ellipsoid spins more slowly, its spin falling as its angular momentum grows, because it gets longer and its moment of inertia climbs faster than its angular momentum. Every Maclaurin spheroid past the bifurcation is a shape a slightly viscous body will leave.

The spinning fluid that becomes a cigar

A ball of fluid held together by its own gravity flattens when it spins, as the Earth bulges at the equator. Spin it faster and it flattens further, into a lens — but only up to a point, and long before that point something unexpected happens. In 1834 Jacobi found that a fast-spinning fluid can also take a shape that is not symmetric about its axis at all: an ellipsoid with three different axes, stretched along its equator, tumbling end over end. Past a definite spin the stretched shape has less energy than the flattened one, and a body that can shed energy will choose it.

5 figures · part 8 on Self-gravity
Every colour at its own angle, from one charge. The wavelength radiated by a charge passing over a grating, as a multiple of the grating's period d, against the angle from the charge's direction, for speeds of 0.3, 0.776, 0.99 of light's, in the first order: λ = d(1/β − cos θ). The shaded band is visible light for a grating of period 1.67 micrometres, the one Smith and Purcell used in 1953. At 0.776c — 300 keV electrons, their speed — visible light comes out between 0° and 30° from the beam, blue-green straight ahead and red at the wider angles; straight ahead the wavelength is 0.29d, 482 nm, and straight back 2.29d. A slow charge at 0.3c radiates only at wavelengths longer than 2.33d. A fast one at 0.99c sends 1.0 per cent of a period straight ahead, the d/2γ² of an undulator.

The rainbow a passing electron leaves on a grating

An electron moving steadily in a straight line through empty space does not radiate, at any speed. Send it skimming over a ruled metal grating, without touching it, and it lights up — every colour at its own angle, blue-green ahead and red further out, from an electron that is neither turning nor slowing. The grating hands the electron's field the one thing it lacked: a wavenumber that lets part of it escape. It is the same mechanism as the blue glow in a reactor pool, with a ruled surface standing in for the slow light in the water.

5 figures · part 10 on Radiating charge
A sound that survives only in a hot-electron plasma. The damping of an ion-acoustic wave at kλD = 0.3, as the fraction of its amplitude lost per radian of oscillation, −γ/ω, against the ratio of electron to ion temperature, for hydrogen and argon plasmas, on logarithmic axes: from the kinetic dispersion relation (solid) and from the weak-damping formula (dashed), which is valid only where the damping is small. With equal temperatures the wave loses 0.45 of its amplitude per radian in hydrogen — it is gone within a cycle. At Tₑ/Tᵢ = 10 the loss is 0.031; at 100 it is 0.0126, set by the electrons alone. Argon's floor is lower, 0.0020, because its ions are heavier and its electrons a smaller fraction of a sound wave's speed.

The sound a plasma carries on its electrons' heat

Sound in a gas needs two things: something heavy to be pushed, and a pressure to push it. In an ordinary gas the same molecules supply both. In a plasma they can be split — the ions carry the inertia and the electrons, a thousand times lighter and often a hundred times hotter, carry the pressure — and the result is a sound that travels at a speed set by one particle's temperature and the other's mass. It travels only while the two temperatures stay far apart. Warm the ions to match the electrons and the sound dies within a cycle, with nothing to rub against.

5 figures · part 9 on Plasma oscillation

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