Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
The collection

Every essay — page 36

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.

The bending a falling column must carry, along its height. The bending moment at each height of a uniform column toppling about its base, in units of its weight times its length, at tilts of 10°, 30°, 60° from upright. Every curve peaks at a third of the height, at mgL·sinθ/27: 0.0064, 0.0185, 0.0321. The base and the top carry none. The same column held still at the same tilt would carry its greatest moment at the base, mgL·sinθ/2 — 0.250 at 30°, 13.5 times as much. Falling relieves the bending by a factor of 13.5 and moves it a third of the way up.

The chimney that breaks a third of the way up

A tall brick chimney felled by demolition rarely reaches the ground in one piece. It snaps partway up, early in its fall, and the top falls behind the rest. Nothing has hit it. The cause is a free-body diagram: as the column rotates about its base, the material near the top must be dragged round faster than its own weight would take it, and the material lower down holds back. The bending this needs is largest a third of the way up, at a thirteenth and a half of what the same column would carry standing still at the same tilt — and brick, which carries no tension, cracks there after only a few degrees of lean.

5 figures · part 9 on Free-body The same energy in less and less whip. The speed of the moving part of a whip 2 m long and weighing 250 g, against how far the loop the arm threw into it still has to go to the tip, on a logarithmic scale, if the 15 J the arm gave it stays in the part still moving. Three whips: uniform, tapering linearly, and tapering faster, each ending in a 0.2 g cracker. At the handle every part moves at 11 m/s. Half a metre from the tip the uniform whip is at 22 m/s and the faster taper at 72; the uniform whip passes the speed of sound (dashed) only within its last millimetre, the tapers 1.6 cm and 1.5 cm from it. All three end at the same ceiling, √(2E/m) = 387 m/s, set by the cracker alone: the taper decides how gradually the speed builds, not how fast the end goes.

The crack at the end of a whip

An arm moves a whip's handle at ten metres a second, and a fifth of a second later its tip passes the speed of sound. Nothing in between is a lever or a spring. The arm throws a loop into the whip, the part behind the loop comes to rest, and the energy stays with the part still moving, which grows lighter as the loop runs out towards the tip. Energy shared by less and less mass means speed, and what caps it is the tip's own mass, the tuft of string at the end. The crack is a sonic boom, made by something the size of a shoelace's end.

5 figures · part 11 on Momentum The swing's plane, turning a step at a time. The direction in which a swinging spring swings, seen from above, against time, for a spring whose bounce is twice as fast as its swing, started bouncing almost vertically with a trace of sideways motion. Points are coloured by how much of the energy is in the swing (darker: more). While the swing holds the energy the direction is fixed; while the bounce holds it, the direction changes, and the swing returns in a new direction each time — 9 steps in 1500 units of time, each 43.6° on average (43.6, 43.6, 43.6, 43.6…), always in the same sense. In a plane the swing could only come back along its old line. In space it comes back turned, and the turn is the same every time.

The swing that turns a step at a time

A weight on a spring whose bounce is twice as fast as its swing trades its energy back and forth: the bounce becomes a swing, and the swing a bounce again. Let it move in space rather than a plane, with the slightest sideways twist, and each swing comes back in a new direction, turned by the same angle every time. The turn happens all at once, while the weight is only bouncing and the swing is too small to see, and its size is set by a single ratio, of the twist to the energy carrying it. The steps are a geometric phase made mechanical, and they blur into chaos when the spring is bounced too hard.

5 figures · part 8 on Chaos A gridiron of steel and brass drawn to the length that holds. The rods of a gridiron pendulum, to scale, for a seconds pendulum of 0.994 m: steel rods (dark) hang from the suspension and carry cross-bars from which brass rods (light) push upward, and from their tops the next steel rods hang down again, until the last carries the bob. Steel expands downward, lowering the bob; brass expands upward, raising it. They cancel when the steel's total length times its expansion equals the brass's: 2.52 m of steel against 1.52 m of brass, a ratio of 0.605. That is why gridirons are built of so many rods — the steel alone is 2.53 times the pendulum's length, folded into 3 stages. With zinc instead of brass, which expands 1.58 times as much, 1.61 m of steel would do. Real gridirons double every rod, side by side, so that the bob hangs symmetrically.

The pendulum that must not grow when it warms

A pendulum clock keeps time by the length of its pendulum, and every material grows when it is warmed. A steel rod a metre long lengthens by a hundredth of a millimetre for each degree, and the clock loses half a second a day — a minute a fortnight between a cold winter and a warm summer, far worse than anything the clockmaker's escapement could cause. The cure, found in the 1720s, was to let the pendulum grow in two directions at once: one part downward, another upward, in exactly the proportion that leaves the bob where it was. The same trick, with different metals, kept the best clocks to a hundredth of a second a day for two centuries, and its limits are set by heat that does not spread evenly or quickly.

5 figures · part 10 on Pendulum Stopped for half a second, a raw egg starts again by itself. Two eggs spinning at 3 revolutions a second, each touched with a finger at t = 4 s so that its shell is held still for 0.5 s and then released. The cooked egg (solid) stops and stays stopped. The raw egg's shell (dashed) stops too, but its contents (dotted) are still turning — slowed to 2.15 revolutions a second during the hold, by viscosity working against the held shell — and once the finger lifts they drag the shell back into rotation, reaching 1.81 revolutions a second, 60 per cent of its speed before the touch. The table's friction is left out here, so that nothing else slows either egg. It is the oldest kitchen test of whether an egg is cooked, and the whole of the physics is a liquid's reluctance to stop turning.

The egg that keeps turning after it is stopped

Spin an egg on a table, touch it for a moment to stop it, and let go. A cooked egg stays still. A raw one starts turning again by itself, as if something inside had kept going — which it has. A raw egg is two bodies, a thin shell and a liquid that the shell can turn only through the slow grip of viscosity, and the kitchen test that tells them apart is a measurement of how long that grip takes. The same two-body arithmetic says that a raw egg wastes most of the energy of a flick, starts out spinning six times faster than a cooked one given the same twist, and keeps a record of its past rotation in its interior for a second or two after its shell has forgotten.

5 figures · part 12 on Rotation

Waves

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

A light panel that blocks one band as a heavy one would. Sound transmission loss at normal incidence against frequency, on a logarithmic frequency axis. Dashed: a limp panel of 2 kg/m², following the mass law, 13.4 dB at 300 Hz. Dotted: the same panel made 3 kg/m² by adding 1 kg/m² of plain mass, 16.8 dB. Solid: the 2 kg/m² panel with the same added mass hung on springs tuned to 300 Hz (damping 0.02). It blocks 35 dB at 300 Hz — the loss the mass law would give a wall 26 kg/m² heavy — and just above, at 367 Hz, falls to 5.2 dB, far below even the bare panel's 15.1: there the panel lets sound through more easily than if the resonators were not there.

The wall made heavy only at one note

A wall stops sound by being hard to shake, and how hard a plain wall is to shake is its weight: that is the mass law, and it makes quiet walls heavy. Hang small masses on springs inside a light panel, tuned to one frequency, and near that frequency the panel becomes many times harder to shake than it weighs, because the hidden masses swing against it. A two-kilogram panel then blocks a tone as a wall thirteen times heavier would. The price comes just above the tuning, where the panel's dynamic mass passes through zero and it lets sound through more easily than if the masses were not there.

5 figures · part 9 on Impedance A quiet resonator growing louder before it sings. The pressure in a resonator's 200 Hz mode over two and a half seconds, kicked continually by the same random noise, at three settings approaching the onset of self-sustained oscillation: the mode's natural decay rate falling from 20 to 6 to 2 per second. Each panel is on the same scale. Far from onset the noise is a faint, ragged hiss, each burst dying almost as soon as it starts. Closer, the bursts last longer and grow larger, because the mode forgets each kick more slowly and the kicks pile up; at the last setting the resonator hums in long swells of a nearly steady tone. Nothing has started oscillating on its own — every setting is below onset — but the noise has already begun to sound like the oscillation it is approaching.

The noise that warns a tube is about to sing

A resonator that is about to break into self-sustained oscillation — a combustor about to hum, a heated tube about to howl — is silent on average right up to the moment it starts. Its noise is not. As the margin of stability shrinks, the random hiss in the mode grows louder, remembers each kick for longer and narrows towards the coming tone, in proportions fixed by the margin itself. The instability can be heard before it exists, except in the case engines most often present, where noise starts the song before the warning has properly begun.

5 figures · part 11 on Resonance The shadow a thunderclap's sound cannot enter. Sound rays from a point 3 km up a lightning channel, on an afternoon with 25 °C at the ground and the air cooling 6.5 K per kilometre upwards, so that sound travels slower the higher it goes; the vertical scale is stretched 3.5 times. Every ray curves upwards. Rays aimed below the horizontal reach the ground, reflect and climb away; the last ray to touch the ground grazes it 23.1 km from the channel. Beyond that, shaded, no ray arrives at all: a listener's ears 2 m up are inside the shadow from 23.7 km. The flash is visible there and the thunder is not, though the air between is perfectly clear and absorbs the low notes of thunder hardly at all.

The thunder that passes over the listener's head

Lightning twenty-five kilometres away is plainly visible and usually silent, though the air between is clear and absorbs the low notes of thunder hardly at all. The thunder has not faded; it has gone over the listener's head. Daytime air cools upwards, sound slows as it climbs, and Huygens's wavelets, smaller at the top of every front than at the bottom, tilt each front towards the sky. Beyond the ray that just grazes the ground there is a shadow the sound cannot enter — and a hundred and fifty kilometres further out, the stratosphere can bend it back down.

6 figures · part 9 on Huygens

Optics

Light, and the small number of rules it obeys.

A transparent cell, seen four ways. Brightness across the image of a transparent cell 20 μm across, which delays the light passing through its middle by 0.3 radians (and its nucleus by a third as much again) and absorbs none of it, imaged with green light (0.55 μm) through an objective of numerical aperture 0.25; brightness relative to the background. In focus with a plain objective (dashed) the cell is all but invisible: the brightness varies between 0.998 and 1.001. Defocused by 8 μm it shows, 0.96 to 1.06, but only at its edges and nucleus, as bright and dark fringes that do not follow its thickness. With a quarter-wave plate on the undiffracted light the cell appears in focus, its brightness following its thickness: with the plate one way it is brighter where it is thicker, up to 2.02 times the background; with the plate the other way, darker, down to 0.38.

The specimen that is invisible until its light is delayed

A living cell in water is nearly transparent: it delays the light passing through it by a fraction of a wavelength and absorbs almost none, and a perfect microscope shows it as nothing. The delay is there in the light, and the eye cannot see a delay. Frits Zernike's remedy was to delay a different part of the light — the part the cell did not scatter — by a further quarter of a cycle, at the one place in a microscope where it is separated from the rest. The invisible phase becomes brightness, the cell appears, and the price is a bright halo round everything large.

5 figures · part 13 on Imaging A bright core in a set of rings. The intensity across the beam 29 cm beyond an axicon — a glass cone 10 mm across that tilts every ray by 0.5° towards the axis — lit by a 633 nm laser, computed from the Fresnel integral and scaled to its peak (solid). It is the pattern of a cone of plane waves meeting on the axis: a bright core 56 μm across at its first dark ring, at 2.405/kα from the axis, ringed by rings of slowly falling brightness. Dashed: a Gaussian laser beam focused to a spot of the same size, with no rings. The rings are not a flaw of the axicon; they are where the beam keeps the power that the core is short of.

The beam that does not spread and the price it pays

Pass a laser beam through a shallow cone of glass and it emerges as a thin bright line of light, a core a few tens of micrometres wide that keeps its width for half a metre, where a beam focused to the same width by a lens would have doubled in a few millimetres. It seems to defeat diffraction. It does not. The core is not made of the light that was in it a moment before; every point along it is fed by a fresh ring of the aperture, and the core holds about one per cent of the beam's power. The rest is in the rings, and the rings are what pays for the line.

5 figures · part 12 on Diffraction How a dark ridge fades into the sky. The apparent contrast against the horizon sky of a black ridge at a given distance, seen in green light (550 nm) along a level path at sea level, on a logarithmic scale: e^(−βx), the light from the ridge scattered out of the path and the sky's light scattered in. The dashed line is the eye's threshold, a contrast of 2%. Clean air: β = 0.0116 per km, visible to 337 km; light haze, 0.05 per km: β = 0.06 per km, visible to 64 km; haze, 0.3 per km: β = 0.31 per km, visible to 13 km. Pure air sets a limit of a few hundred kilometres to how far anything can be seen; in practice haze shortens it to tens.

How far the air lets a mountain be seen

A dark mountain on the horizon fades not because its light grows too faint to see but because the air between it and the eye glows. Sunlight scattered into the line of sight fills the dark ridge in until it matches the sky behind it, and its contrast falls as a simple exponential of the distance. With the eye's threshold at two per cent, that gives a visual range of 3.912 divided by the air's scattering coefficient: about 337 kilometres for perfectly clean air in green light, far less in the hazes real air carries. The same arithmetic makes near ridges blue and far ones pale.

5 figures · part 10 on Scattering

Electromagnetism

Charge, field, and the lines drawn between them.

Two descriptions of gold that agree everywhere but at zero. How strongly gold answers a slowly varying field, (ε(iξ) − 1)ξ²/ωₚ² in the two forms of its permittivity at imaginary frequency ξ, against ξ on a logarithmic axis: the plasma model (dashed), which ignores the electrons' collisions and gives exactly 1, and the Drude model (solid), which includes them at the measured rate ħγ = 35 meV and falls to zero below about γ = 5.3·10¹³ per second. The Lifshitz force samples this curve only at the Matsubara frequencies 2πlkT/ħ (dots, 300 K): the first, 2.47·10¹⁴ per second, lies above γ, and there the two descriptions differ by 18 per cent, at the next by 10, and less beyond. At l = 0, ξ = 0, they part completely: 1 against 0. Everything the two models disagree about is in that one point.

The static field a metal may or may not reflect

The Casimir force between two gold plates at room temperature has been computed two ways for twenty-five years, and the two answers differ by forty per cent at three micrometres. Both use the same measured optical properties of gold. They part company over a single number: whether gold reflects a magnetic field that does not change in time. Common sense and every electrical engineer say it does not, since a static field passes straight through a copper sheet. The most precise force measurements say it does. The disagreement is not about the Casimir effect at all; it is about what a metal's electrons do with a fluctuation slower than their collisions.

5 figures · part 7 on Retardation Charges released on a field line do not stay on it. A positive and a negative charge (left and right) with their field lines (thin), and the paths of a light positive test charge released at rest from four points 0.32 charge-separations from the positive charge, at 20°, 40°, 55°, 70° from the axis (thick), each beside the field line through its own starting point (dashed). Each path sets off exactly along its line — at rest, the acceleration is the only thing with a direction — and then swings wide of it, because the charge carries its velocity round the bend while the line turns. All four miss the negative charge and leave the frame, never to return, although the field line from every starting point ends on it.

The path a charge takes is not its field line

A field line is drawn by stepping along the direction of the force, and it is natural to read it as the route a charge would take. It is not. A field line is the curve whose direction is the force; a charge's path is the curve whose bending is the force, and the two agree only where the charge starts from rest. A charge released beside a dipole sets off along its line and then swings wide of it, carried by the speed it has gained; a charge launched round a point charge circles it on an ellipse that crosses every line. Only two things make a charge keep to its line: enough friction that it never has a speed of its own, or a magnetic field.

5 figures · part 6 on The field concept Flux leaving a plate in stripes and spreading into a uniform field. A cross-section through a superconducting plate in the intermediate state near its top surface (below the line), with a normal fraction of 0.40: normal laminae (shaded) each carry the critical field straight up, the superconducting laminae between them carry none. Lengths are in units of the period of the pattern. Above the surface the field lines (solid) are computed from the stray field of the stripes: they fan out from each normal lamina and close up over the superconducting ones, and within about a third of a period the field is uniform at 0.40 of the critical field — the applied field, which is all a distant observer measures. The fanning field stores energy, and it stores more the wider the stripes are, because a wider pattern's non-uniformity reaches further out. That is half of what sets the period.

The stripes a superconductor makes of a field

A superconductor expels a magnetic field, but only if the field it pushes aside stays below the critical field everywhere at its surface — and for anything but a long rod held along the field, the field it pushes aside piles up at its edges. A flat plate laid across a field cannot expel any of it. It splits instead into interleaved bands of normal metal carrying exactly the critical field and superconducting metal carrying none, in the proportion flux demands, and the bands have a definite width. Walls between the two cost energy and favour few, broad bands; the field fanning out of the surface favours many narrow ones. The compromise is the geometric mean of the plate's thickness and a microscopic length.

5 figures · part 9 on Superconductivity

Thermodynamics

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

How a sphere of gas rings. The acoustic pressure against distance from the centre of a spherical cavity, for its three lowest radial modes, in which the gas breathes in and out in spherical shells: sin(zr/a)/(zr/a), with z = 4.4934, 7.7253, 10.9041 the roots of tan z = z that make the gas's motion vanish at the wall. Filled with argon at the triple point of water, 273.16 K, a sphere 62 mm in radius rings in these modes at 3551, 6104, 8616 Hz. Radial modes are the ones precision work uses: they have no motion along the wall, so the wall's roughness and the gas's viscosity there barely touch them, and their frequencies are set by the volume rather than the shape — a slightly imperfect sphere shifts them only at second order.

The note that fixed the kelvin

A sphere of argon, struck, rings at a pitch set by the speed of sound in it, and the speed of sound in argon contains only one quantity nobody could compute: the constant that converts a temperature into an energy. Argon's atoms can hold energy in exactly three ways, so its heat capacity is a count rather than a measurement, and its speed of sound is (5/3)kT/m with nothing left over. Ring the sphere at the temperature of melting ice, measure its size with radio waves in the same cavity, and Boltzmann's constant comes out to a part in a million. In 2019 that number stopped being measured and became the definition.

5 figures · part 11 on Equipartition

Relativity

Space and time, drawn on the same axes.

What one scattering does to a photon's energy. The average fractional change in a photon's energy when it scatters off an electron in a gas at temperature T, against the photon's energy: (4kT − ε)/mc², for gases at 10⁶, 10⁷ and 10⁸ K. A photon below 4kT gains energy, taking it from the electrons' motion; one above loses it, as recoil, to the electrons. The crossing sits at ε = 4kT: 0.34 keV at 10⁶ K, 3.45 keV at 10⁷ K, 34.47 keV at 10⁸ K. The changes per scattering are small, a few per cent at most here, but a gas whose electrons scatter each photon many times, or that is bathed in light for long enough, is heated or cooled until the gains and losses balance over the whole spectrum.

The temperature a gas takes from the light around it

A thin, ionised gas bathed in light settles at a temperature that has nothing to do with how much light there is and everything to do with its colour. Every time a photon scatters off an electron, the two exchange a little energy: a photon softer than four times the electrons' thermal energy gains, a harder one loses by recoil. Balanced over a spectrum, the rule sets the gas at a quarter of the light's mean photon energy. That puts gas near a quasar at tens of millions of kelvin, and it caps the heating once photons approach the electron's own rest energy. For blackbody light the rule falls four per cent short, and the shortfall is the photon being a boson.

5 figures · part 9 on Relativistic thermodynamics A peak at half the mass, made by a sine. The momentum across the beam of the electron from 200,000 simulated W decays, as a probability density per GeV, for a W of mass 80.37 GeV. For a W exactly at rest across the beam, of exactly its mass (dashed), the electron carries M/2 = 40.19 GeV in the W's frame and shows a fraction sin θ of it across the beam, so the distribution climbs to a sharp peak at M/2 and stops: the Jacobian peak, piled up because sin θ hardly changes near θ = 90°. The W's natural width of 2.1 GeV rounds the peak (solid, peak at 39.9 GeV); its motion across the beam, a few GeV on average, smears it further and pushes a tail past M/2 (lighter). The position of the peak measures the mass, and is shifted by anything that moves the W.

The mass weighed without one of its pieces

A W boson decays into an electron and a neutrino, and the neutrino leaves every detector without a trace. Its mass cannot be found the usual way, by adding up the energy and momentum of what it decayed into, because half of what it decayed into is missing. What survives is the part of the motion across the beam, where the neutrino's momentum can be inferred from the imbalance it leaves. There the electron's momentum piles up at half the W's mass, and a quantity built from both particles ends at a sharp edge at the full mass. The world's best measurements of that edge disagree by seventy-five parts in eighty thousand.

5 figures · part 10 on Mass-energy Thrown across a uniform field, a fast charge does not draw a parabola. The paths of a charge launched across a uniform electric field (which points up the page) at 0.30, 0.60, 0.90, 0.99 of the speed of light, from the exact relativistic motion (solid), beside the parabolas Newton's law gives for the same launches (dashed); lengths are in units of mc²/qE, the distance over which the field does work equal to the charge's rest energy. Near its launch each exact path is a parabola, but one with the inertia γ₀m in place of m, so it is deflected less than Newton says — 1.05, 1.25, 2.29, 7.09 times less for the four. Further out each turns steeply along the field: one unit across, the 0.3c charge is 11.6 units along where Newton says 5.6, because its sideways speed has fallen while the field kept pushing. Each exact path is a hyperbolic cosine. The field adds to the momentum along it while the sideways momentum stays fixed, and the charge's growing energy is a growing inertia that slows its sideways progress.

The throw a uniform field bends into a chain

Throw a stone sideways across the Earth's gravity and it draws a parabola. Throw a charge sideways across a uniform electric field and, at low speed, it does the same. At high speed it draws a different curve, a hyperbolic cosine — the shape of a chain hanging between two posts, stretched — and the reason is that nothing pushes it sideways yet its sideways speed falls. Its sideways momentum is fixed, the field keeps adding energy, and energy is inertia. The charge gets only logarithmically far across the field however long it flies, and its sideways distance turns out to be a reading of its own clock.

5 figures · part 16 on Relativistic dynamics Loops that swell as the electric field approaches cB. A charge starting from rest in crossed uniform fields — the electric field up the page, the magnetic field out of it — for E/cB = 0.3, 0.6, 0.85, integrated exactly; lengths in units of mc/qB. Each traces a chain of loops drifting to the right at E/B. Newton's law gives loops of height 2mE/qB² — 0.6, 1.2, 1.7 — whatever the speed. The exact loops are 0.66, 1.88, 6.13 high, larger by γ² of the drift speed, 1.10, 1.56, 3.60: in the frame moving at the drift the electric field vanishes and the magnetic field is weakened to B/γ, and the charge circles at the drift speed on a larger orbit than a weaker field would explain alone. As E approaches cB the drift approaches c and the loop grows without limit.

The orbit that opens when E reaches cB

A charge in crossed electric and magnetic fields drifts sideways at E/B, looping as it goes, and the textbook leaves it there. The textbook result has a speed in it that can be made larger than light, and something has to give. What gives is the loop. As the electric field approaches c times the magnetic one, the loops swell without limit, and at E = cB the charge stops looping and is carried off for ever. Above that ratio no frame can make the electric field vanish; one can make the magnetic field vanish instead, and in that frame the charge simply runs away. The transition from a bound orbit to a run-away is decided by a single quantity every observer agrees on, E² − c²B².

5 figures · part 10 on Field transformation

Quantum

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

Four regimes along one line of mixed states. The weight p of the singlet in Werner's mixture of a singlet and complete noise, from 0 (pure noise) to 1 (a perfect singlet), divided by what is known about it. Below p = 1/3 the state is separable: it can be made by handing out unentangled pairs. Above 1/3 it is entangled, by the partial-transpose test. Yet up to at least p = 1/2 — Werner's explicit model of 1989 — and, by a later argument through Grothendieck's constant, up to about 0.66, a local hidden-variable model reproduces the outcomes of every pair of projective measurements on it, so no Bell experiment of that kind can reveal the entanglement. Above 1/√2 ≈ 0.707 the CHSH inequality is violated. Between about 0.66 and 0.71 (and, by more recent searches, between about 0.68 and 0.70) it is not known whether any Bell inequality is broken.

The entangled pair a list of answers can imitate

Entanglement and the violation of a Bell inequality are usually spoken of as the same thing, and they are not. Mix a perfect singlet with random noise and the pair stays entangled until the noise is two-thirds of the mixture. It stops violating the CHSH inequality much sooner, when the noise passes three-tenths. In between lies a family of genuinely entangled states whose every measurement can be reproduced by particles carrying instructions fixed in advance — Reinhard Werner wrote the instructions down in 1989. The entanglement in those states is real and can be spent, on teleportation for one thing. It simply cannot be seen by asking two distant analysers what they find.

5 figures · part 7 on Entanglement The same fringes from cooler and hotter molecules. The rate at which molecules arrive across a few periods of the interference pattern behind the last grating, relative to its mean, for molecules at 1000, 2500, 3000 K, each with the visibility the emission model gives: 46 per cent, 14 per cent, 4 per cent. The cooler molecules draw fringes nearly as strong as cold ones; at 3000 K the pattern is a faint ripple on a flat background. The average number arriving is the same in every case: the heated molecules are not lost, and none of them has been deflected out of the beam. They arrive in the same places on average and no longer interfere.

The molecule that interferes until it glows

A molecule of seventy carbon atoms, sent through a matter-wave interferometer, travels both arms at once and lands in fringes, as an electron or a neutron does. Heat it, and the fringes fade. Nothing has touched it from outside: a hot molecule glows, and each photon it gives off is a messenger that may carry away the information of which arm it was in. Whether it does depends on one comparison — the photon's wavelength against the separation of the arms. Long photons leave the fringes alone; short ones erase them. The loss of interference that is usually described as the onset of the classical world is here a measurement made by the molecule's own light, and its threshold can be computed.

5 figures · part 7 on Matter waves

Astrophysics

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

The power a cavity holds depends on where its mirror is. The power circulating in a cavity of finesse 10,000, a metre long and lit at 1064 nm, as a fraction of its value on resonance, against the detuning of the laser from the cavity's resonance in units of the cavity's half-linewidth (7.5 kHz). Lengthening the cavity lowers its resonance and moves every point of the curve to the right: 38 half-linewidths for each nanometre of mirror travel. On the blue side (laser above resonance, right) that motion loses power, so the radiation force on the mirror falls as the mirror moves out — a restoring spring, steepest at δ/γ = 0.58 (dashed tangent). On the red side the same motion gains power and pushes harder: a spring of the opposite sign.

The mirror held on a spring of light

Light bouncing between two mirrors pushes them apart, and how hard it pushes depends on how long the gap is, because the gap decides how much light the cavity holds. A mirror free to move therefore sits on a spring made of light: with a kilowatt stored in a metre-long cavity it is four-fifths as stiff as a steel wire a millimetre thick. The spring has a flaw no steel spring has. Stored light takes time to rise and fall, so the push always arrives a little late, and a late spring either winds the mirror up or calms it, depending only on which side of the cavity's resonance the laser sits.

5 figures · part 9 on Radiation pressure A lens that cannot focus a wave longer than itself. How much a point mass brightens a wave passing behind it — the factor on the wave's power, on a logarithmic scale — against the dimensionless frequency w = 8πGMf/c³, for a source exactly behind the lens and 0.1, 0.3, 1.0 Einstein radii off it, from the exact diffraction integral. Geometric optics puts the magnification at 10.0, 3.4 and 1.34 for the three offsets and at infinity on the axis, whatever the frequency. The wave disagrees: at w = 0.01 every curve is within 1.6 per cent of 1 — a wave a hundred times longer than the lens passes as if it were not there — and on the axis the power factor is πw/(1 − e^(−πw)): 3.28 at w = 1, 31.4 at w = 10, finite at every frequency. The off-axis curves rise to their geometric values only above w ≈ 1 and then oscillate about them, as the two images begin to interfere.

The lens a long wave walks round

Geometric optics says that a star passing exactly in front of a source magnifies it infinitely. No real wave agrees, because a wave cannot be focused to a point, and for the gravitational waves the detectors hear the disagreement is the whole story. A star, or a black hole of a few tens of suns, is smaller than one of those waves in the only measure that matters — the delay between paths round it — and the wave flows past it almost untouched. What decides whether a mass lenses a wave is not the mass's size, which is millions of kilometres, but its Schwarzschild radius set against the wavelength.

5 figures · part 7 on Light deflection The strong coupling, run from the proton to the Planck mass. The inverse of the strong interaction's coupling, 1/αₛ, against energy on a logarithmic axis, run at one loop from its measured value at the Z mass (1/8.47, dot), with its slope changing at the charm, bottom and top masses as each quark joins in. On this plot the running is a set of straight lines: the coupling weakens by a fixed amount for each factor of ten in energy, about 2.57 per decade above the top mass. At the Planck mass, 1.22 × 10¹⁹ GeV, 1/αₛ is 52.5 — a coupling of 0.0191. Run down instead, it reaches zero — the coupling runs off to infinity — at 143 MeV, the three-flavour scale of the strong interaction at this order. Nineteen decades of energy are crossed by a line that falls from 52 to 0.

The nineteen decades a slow coupling buys

A proton is ten million million million times lighter than the Planck mass, and that ratio, squared, is why gravity between two protons is 10³⁶ times weaker than the electric force between them. It looks like a number demanding an explanation, and it has one. Almost none of the proton's mass comes from the masses of its quarks; it comes from the strong force, whose strength changes with energy by a logarithm. A coupling of about 1/50 at the Planck mass, weakening by a fixed step for every factor of ten in energy, takes nineteen factors of ten to become strong — and the proton's mass is where it does.

5 figures · part 7 on Planck scale

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