Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
The collection

Every essay — page 39

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 band of speeds in which a bicycle rides itself. The growth rates of the small motions of a riderless bicycle against forward speed, from the four roots of the linearised equations for a benchmark machine, with the published eigenvalues reproduced before anything else was drawn. A positive rate means the motion grows. Below 4.29 m/s a pair of roots has positive real part: the weave, a swaying of the steering and lean together, grows. Above 6.02 m/s one real root turns barely positive: the bicycle slowly falls over into a spiral, the capsize. Between these speeds, in the shaded band, all four roots have negative real parts, and a shove dies away on its own with no hand on the bar. Nothing is stabilising the machine except the coupling of lean to steer.

The bicycle that steers itself upright

Give a riderless bicycle a shove and, at the right speed, it wobbles and straightens up, and rides on with nobody on it. People have long credited the gyroscopic wheels or the trail of the fork. A machine built in 2011 had neither, and it stayed up. Four numbers, the roots of a quartic, tell the whole story of when a bicycle rides itself, and they do not contain a simple reason.

5 figures · part 9 on Harmonic approximation A spin set by the length of a cord. The body's spin against the cord let out, from conservation of energy and of angular momentum alone, for three values of c, one plus the body's moment of inertia over the weights' mR². Every curve passes through zero at a cord length of exactly √c radii, and a direct integration of the equations of motion, which assumes neither conservation law, lands on the same curve to a part in a thousand. Past that length the spin reverses. The starting spin does not appear in the zero's position: only the shape of the machine does. A weight on a cord cut to length therefore removes all the spin whether it was spinning at 20 or 100 revolutions a minute, provided the cord is released at that length.

The weights that stop a spinning satellite

A rocket stage is often spun up to keep it pointing straight during its burn, and the spin then has to be removed. A small cord and a weight wrapped round its rim do the whole job, with no fuel, no sensors and no moving parts besides the cord. The cord's length has no dependence on how fast the stage is spinning, so the same two weights stop it at any speed. And the cord unwinds at exactly the rate the stage was first spinning, while its spin falls away to nothing.

5 figures · part 9 on Energy A fountain in proportion to the drop. The height of the arch above the jar against the drop below it, for three values of α, the share of each link's momentum that the pile supplies. A steady chain has one tension at the top of the arch, equal to its momentum flux λv². Going down either leg the tension falls by the weight of chain below. At the jar the tension must be (1 − α)λv²; at the floor, with the floor taking all of the arriving momentum, it is zero. That gives v²α = gh₁ and h₁ = h₂ α/(1 − α), a straight line through the origin, and no arch at all if α = 0. A measured α near 0.12 gives 27 cm of fountain at a 2 m drop, and this proportion, about a seventh of the drop, is what the experiments found.

The chain that climbs out of the jar

Pull the end of a long bead chain over the rim of a jar and let it fall to the floor, and the rest follows, as a siphon does. That much is unsurprising. What a video showed in 2013 was stranger: the chain does not run over the rim. It leaps up from the jar in a standing arch, tens of centimetres above it, with nothing supporting it. The explanation took a year and turned on something a string does not have: a link is stiff, so the pile has to push back.

5 figures · part 12 on Momentum

Waves

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

Where the heat would land. The average field strength squared on a horizontal plane half-way up the oven from 3 of the in-band modes taken together, 2,3,2; 3,2,2; 2,4,1, darker meaning stronger. The bright patches are spaced by about half a wavelength of the mode along each wall, some 7 to 15 cm for these indices, and between them are nodes where the heating falls to almost nothing. A plate of cheese on a stopped turntable shows this as melted spots, and a measurement of their spacing against the frequency gives the speed of light to within several per cent, a popular school experiment. Since many modes can be involved and the load disturbs them, the method is not as clean as it looks, and here the load's own effect is not drawn.

The oven that cooks in spots

A microwave oven is a metal box, and a metal box has only so many ways of ringing at a given frequency. At 2.45 GHz a kitchen oven allows a handful, and the field inside is the sum of those few standing patterns, with hot patches and nodes several centimetres apart. Food on a stopped plate shows them as a pattern of scorch and frost. A turntable can smear this only into rings, and frozen food has a further trap, because ice absorbs thousands of times less than water.

5 figures · part 12 on Standing waves Waves that turn to face the beach. The paths of crests' motion for a 10 s swell arriving at 50° on a plane beach of slope 1 in 50, seen from above, with depth contours dashed. Snell's law, sin α over speed is constant, holds along the ray because the depth changes only in the offshore direction, and the integrated paths were checked against it. The end of each ray is nearly normal to the shore: 5° from square-on by the point where it is about to break. In this sense all surf comes in nearly straight whatever direction the storm was in. The bend is complete because the speed falls almost to zero at the shore, whereas a prism's angles are bounded by its index. What remains of the angle drives the current along a beach.

The waves that always arrive square to the beach

A storm a thousand kilometres off sends out swell in whatever direction it pleases, and that swell arrives on the beach running almost straight in. It does so whichever way the coast faces. Waves slow down in shallow water, so the part of a crest nearest the shore lags and the whole line swings round, as light does in glass. It also explains why waves shrink before they grow, and why they gather on a headland and leave the bay alone.

5 figures · part 12 on Wave motion

Optics

Light, and the small number of rules it obeys.

The rings the full solution finds. The light scattered back by water drops of about 10 µm radius, at 550 nm, from the exact Mie series with around 134 terms for each drop, averaged over a ten per cent spread of sizes so that the fine ripple each single drop has is washed out. Instead of the smooth, weak background of the ray picture, the intensity rises sharply toward 180° through a series of rings about one and a half degrees apart, each brighter than the last, to a first ring 1.5° from straight back. These are what an observer sees round the shadow of an aircraft on a cloud, or round a shadow on a mist at a mountain top: the glory. It is present in the same mathematics that gives the rainbow, and it takes the whole series, with its surface-wave terms, to find.

The rings no ray can reach

Look down from an aircraft at a cloud, and round the aircraft's shadow there may be coloured rings, centred exactly on the point opposite the Sun. Mountain climbers have seen them round their own shadows for centuries, and every drop in that cloud is a sphere of water. Yet ray optics says that a drop of water cannot send light straight back. Its best ray falls fourteen degrees short. The glory lives entirely in those fourteen degrees.

5 figures · part 11 on Scattering A facet too wide and a facet too narrow. The blur of an insect's compound eye of radius 1 mm against the width of one facet, in green light. A wide facet looks at a wide patch of sky compared with its neighbours, so the eye's sampling is coarse, and that blur rises with the width. A narrow facet is a small aperture, so diffraction spreads what it collects, and that blur falls with the width. Added in quadrature they make a minimum at D = √(λR), here 22 µm, and that is close to the facets of real insects with an eye of that size. No choice of facet width can get below about 1.8°: that figure is forced by the size of the head. Horace Barlow worked this out in 1952 and compared it with bee eyes.

The eye a fly cannot afford

A compound eye is built from thousands of tiny straws, each looking in one direction. Wide straws look coarsely at the world, and narrow ones blur what they collect by diffraction, so there is a best width, and it depends only on the size of the head. To see as sharply as a person, an eye of this kind would need to be about twelve metres in radius. A single-lens eye gets the same result with a pupil of under two millimetres.

5 figures · part 13 on Diffraction Lamp noise that a decay does not notice. 400 simulated measurements of an absorption of 1 × 10⁻⁷ per metre, with a source whose brightness jumps by 5 per cent between shots and a detector with 0.1 per cent noise. Read directly, as transmission through a metre of gas, each measurement scatters by 7 × 10⁻² per metre and the true value is five orders of magnitude below that. Read as a fitted decay from a cavity with 99.99 per cent mirrors, it scatters by 5 × 10⁻⁸, about a million times less. The slope of a logarithm has no information about how bright the pulse started, so a source's noise simply is not in the answer. Most of the method's sensitivity comes from this and only some from the long path.

The absorption measured with a stopwatch

The usual way to measure how much light a gas absorbs is to compare a beam before and after, and a very weak absorption vanishes in the flicker of the lamp. Trap a pulse between two excellent mirrors, and it bounces for ten kilometres inside a tube a metre long, leaking out a little at each bounce. How fast that leak dies measures the gas, and how bright the pulse began does not matter at all. A brightness measurement has become a measurement of time.

5 figures · part 9 on Dispersion

Electromagnetism

Charge, field, and the lines drawn between them.

Two fields that part company in the middle. The direction of the electric field of two opposite charges, on the left, and of the magnetic field of a loop of current cut across, on the right, each with a dipole moment pointing up the page. Outside, the arrows of the two pictures are nearly the same and become identical with distance. In the middle, drawn darker, they point opposite ways: the field between the two charges runs from the positive to the negative, downward, against the moment, and the field through the loop runs upward, with it. Field lines of the magnetic dipole close through the middle; those of the electric dipole begin and end there. No measurement made from a long way off can tell them apart.

Two dipoles that agree everywhere but inside

A pair of opposite charges and a small loop of current make the same field at any distance worth measuring. Between the charges that field points one way, and through the loop it points the other. Shrink both to a point and the disagreement does not vanish: it becomes a term concentrated at the origin, and hydrogen's 21-centimetre line depends on it. The level order of the hydrogen atom says which kind of dipole a proton is.

5 figures · part 7 on The field concept The potential a stream of charge bends. The potential and electric field across a vacuum gap of width d with a voltage V across it, drawn in units of V and V/d. With no charge in the gap the potential is a straight line and the field uniform. With a stream of charge crossing, the charge's own field pushes the potential curve down, and the current can rise only until the field at the emitter falls to zero: past that the next particle would be pushed back. At that limit the potential goes as the four-thirds power of the distance and the field as the cube root, so the emitter sees no field at all and the far side sees four-thirds of what it saw before. Child and Langmuir found the same curve independently, in 1911 and 1913, and it fixes the current completely.

The current a vacuum will not carry

A vacuum has no resistance, and yet a gap of empty space will carry only so much current for a given voltage, however freely its cathode offers electrons. The charge already crossing cancels the field that would pull the next one off. Gauss's law gives the result in a few lines, and it says something odd about ion engines: their thrust per square metre does not depend on what the ion is, and it is exactly the electric stress on their grid.

6 figures · part 8 on Gauss's law

Thermodynamics

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

A cooling planet, read from the top. Temperature against depth in a body cooling by conduction from a uniform start at 3870 °C, with a surface held at nought, at four ages: the exact error-function solution for a half-space. Cooling reaches downward as the square root of time, so after a hundred million years the upper few hundred kilometres have cooled and the interior knows nothing about it. The gradient at the surface is what a mine measures, and it falls as the inverse root of time. A thermal gradient therefore gives an age, and this is what Kelvin saw in 1862. He assumed the Earth was a solid conductor from the start, on a good basis, as everyone believed then, and these curves are the mathematical consequence of that belief.

The age a cooling Earth gives

In 1862 William Thomson, later Lord Kelvin, took a thermometer reading from the bottom of a mine and a piece of mathematics from Fourier and computed the age of the Earth: about a hundred million years. Geologists, needing far longer, had no physics with which to reply. The arithmetic was right. The usual story blames radioactivity for overturning it, but half the heat is not radioactive, and the error lay in assuming the inside of the planet stays still.

5 figures · part 17 on Diffusion

Relativity

Space and time, drawn on the same axes.

The peak no pion spectrum can move. The photon spectrum from a population of neutral pions, summed from their boxes, for pion spectra falling as three different powers of the energy. Whatever the pion spectrum, each curve peaks at the same 67.5 MeV and is symmetric on the logarithmic axis, since every box contains that point and a box's height falls as it widens; checked here at the point and its mirror, the ratio is 1.000. This is the shape, known as the pion bump, that Floyd Stecker worked out in 1971. Gamma-ray telescopes found it in 2013 in two supernova remnants, which was taken as direct evidence that such remnants accelerate protons, because the electrons that produce most other gamma rays have no reason to make a peak here.

The flat spectrum a fast pion must paint

A neutral pion falls apart into two photons, each with half its rest energy, in a hundred-million-billionth of a second. Seen in flight, those photons could have any energy between two edges, and every energy in that range is equally likely, whatever the pion's speed. Add up a whole population of pions and something unexpected appears: a peak at exactly the 67.5 MeV that no individual decay shows. Astronomers took it as evidence of where cosmic rays are made.

5 figures · part 18 on Relativistic dynamics The price of a pair depends on who pays it. The lowest energy of a photon that can make an electron–positron pair when struck on a stationary partner, against the partner's mass: 2mc²(1 + m/M), from requiring that the total four-momentum have the invariant mass of what is left at rest in the centre of momentum. For a lead nucleus it is 2mc² to better than one part in a hundred thousand, the figure every textbook quotes. For a proton it is 0.054 per cent above. For a free electron it is exactly twice, 4mc², or 2.04 MeV, even though the partner is the very same mass as the pair's members. The rest energy created is unchanged; what rises is what has to be carried off by the partner and the pair together.

The partner that sets the price of a pair

Every textbook says it takes 1.02 MeV to make an electron and a positron from light, twice the electron's rest energy. Done in empty space, it cannot be done at any energy at all. Next to a lead nucleus it costs 1.02 MeV. Next to a lone electron, a particle exactly as heavy as the ones being made, it costs 2.04. Nothing about the pair has changed. What changes the price is who has to carry the momentum away.

5 figures · part 13 on Mass-energy

Quantum

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

A lifetime that oscillates with a distance. The rate at which an excited atom emits a photon, relative to its rate in empty space, against its distance from a perfect mirror in wavelengths, for its dipole pointing across the mirror and along it. On the mirror itself the rate doubles for the first and vanishes for the second. As the distance grows both swing about 1 with a period of half a wavelength and a shrinking size: at half a wavelength the along-mirror rate is 0.96, and at a wavelength 0.99. Nothing in the atom has changed; its excited electron and its transition are the same in every position. An emission rate is a property of an atom and of the room it is in.

The lifetime that depends on where the mirror is

A half-life is treated as the most private fact about an atom or a nucleus, and for a nucleus that is nearly true. An excited atom beside a mirror decays faster or slower depending on how many half-wavelengths away the mirror stands, and between two mirrors closer than half a wavelength it does not emit at all. The atom has not changed. A decay is a transition to a state with a photon in it, and the room decides whether that state exists.

5 figures · part 8 on Decay The spectrum two rates would make. Balance absorption against spontaneous emission alone, with level populations in the Boltzmann ratio, and the radiation comes out as x³ times e to the minus x, Wien's law; add stimulated emission, and the same balance gives x³ over e to the x minus one, which is Planck's. The two agree on the right, where a photon is much more energetic than the thermal energy and stimulated emission is negligible, and disagree on the left, where only Planck's approaches the classical count of waves. At x = 1 Planck's is 1.58 times Wien's. Measurements around 1900 at long wavelengths had already found that Wien's law failed, so experiment required the third rate seventeen years before anyone saw it in a laser or a maser.

The third process equilibrium demands

In 1916, with general relativity just finished, Einstein asked how atoms and light could reach equilibrium at all. Absorption and emission, balanced against each other, gave the wrong spectrum. A third process was needed, in which light makes an excited atom emit a copy of itself. Nobody had seen it, and it took forty years to be put to use. It also fixes a ratio that goes as the cube of the frequency, which is why X-ray lasers are so hard.

5 figures · part 8 on Blackbody

Fluids

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

The force that does not count the water. The force of a water bridge between two touching spheres of radius R, in units of 2πRγ, against the bridge's volume on a logarithmic scale running over six decades, for three contact angles. Each curve is nearly flat: from a millionth of R³ to a thousandth, the force on a wetting grain falls only from 0.99 to 0.92 of 2πRγ, and it stays close to cos θ for the others. A droplet between two grains of sand pulls almost as hard as one a thousand times larger. This is the reason sand wet with one per cent of water and sand wet with ten per cent hold together with about the same strength. The curves fall where a bridge is large enough for its neck to stop being small compared with the grain, and bridges of that size merge with their neighbours.

The sandcastle a spoonful of water holds

A dry heap of sand stands at thirty degrees and no steeper. Add a spoonful of water to a bucketful, and the same grains will stand in a vertical wall and carry a person's weight. Add ten times as much water and the wall is no stronger, because a bridge of water between two grains pulls with almost the same force whatever its size. Its strength belongs to the grain and the surface tension, and the amount of water hardly enters.

5 figures · part 12 on Granular matter A lake a little under half full of gas. Carbon dioxide dissolved in the water of Lake Nyos in Cameroon against depth, in a representative profile of the kind measured in the years after 1986, beside what water at that depth could hold under Henry's law, which rises with the pressure. Everywhere the water holds less than it could: 0.35 mol/L at 200 m, where 0.75 mol/L would be saturated, so the deep water is not on the point of doing anything. It can sit there for decades, fed by a vent in the bed below. But it is only stable where it is. Move a parcel of it up, keeping its gas, and the pressure falls while the gas stays. It meets the saturation line at 88 m, a little over a hundred metres above where it started.

The lake that holds its gas until it does not

On the night of 21 August 1986, Lake Nyos in Cameroon released about a cubic kilometre of carbon dioxide in a few hours, and some 1,700 people died in their sleep in the valleys below. The lake was not boiling and it was not erupting. Its deep water had been holding the gas safely for decades, in a layering that was stable as long as nothing moved. Lift that water far enough and it cannot stop rising. The same instability, in a pipe, now drains the danger away.

5 figures · part 12 on Stratification

Astrophysics

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

The product a fusion plasma has to beat. The density, temperature and confinement time multiplied together at which a deuterium–tritium plasma heats itself, against temperature. Multiplying by T turns the previous curve into a pressure times a time, which is what a magnet can actually hold, since the field limits the pressure nT and not the density alone. The curve has a clear minimum of 3.0 × 10²¹ keV s/m³ near 14 keV, and that is why magnetic machines are designed to run hot but not hotter. ITER's design point, a density of 10²⁰ per cubic metre at 8.9 keV and 3.7 s, gives 3.3 × 10²¹: a little under this line, because ITER is meant to be driven by external heating with a tenfold gain and not to ignite outright.

The product a fusion plasma has to beat

A star makes less power per litre than a compost heap, and it has burned for four and a half thousand million years. A fusion plasma makes thousands of times more and has to be held for seconds, and it has taken seventy years to get close. Both are obeying one inequality, written down in a classified report in 1955, in which density and time appear only as their product.

6 figures · part 12 on Plasma oscillation A drift that twist turns into a circle. An ion's guiding centre at 10 keV in a torus the size of ITER, seen in the plane across the bore, with a vertical drift of 609 m/s from the field's curvature and gradient. With no twist it drifts straight up and reaches the wall in about 2.8 ms, ions one way and electrons the other. With the field lines twisted so that they circle the bore once for every three trips round the torus, the same drift is carried round by the motion along the line, up on the outside and back down on the inside, and the integrated path closes into a circle offset by only 1.3 cm. The offset is the drift speed over the rate of circulation. The twist does not stop the drift; it makes the drift average to nothing, which is all a bottle needs.

The twist a bottle of plasma has to have

A straight magnetic bottle leaks out of its ends, so the obvious repair is to bend it round into a ring. A ring of field with no twist in it loses its plasma in about three millionths of a second. Adding a twist repairs that by making a drift average to nothing, and adding too much makes the whole column kink like an overwound rubber band. A tokamak is built in the narrow band between those two failures.

5 figures · part 8 on Flux freezing The one number a burn depends on. The fraction of a deuterium–tritium fuel ball that burns before it flies apart, against its density times its radius. The fuel is held by nothing: a sound wave crosses it in a time R/c, the burn rate goes as the density, and so the fraction burned goes as the product ρR, flattening as the fuel runs out, f = ρR/(ρR + 7 g/cm²). A disassembly-time estimate at 30 keV gives 7.6 g/cm² for the same constant, close to the fitted value. The radius and the density do not appear separately. A third of the fuel burns at ρR = 3 g/cm², and that value does not depend on how large the ball is; what sets the size of an inertial-fusion capsule is what has to be done to reach it.

The fuel held together only by its inertia

On 5 December 2022 a laser put 2.05 megajoules into a gold can the size of a pencil rubber, and a speck of fuel inside it released 3.15. Nothing held that fuel together for the tenth of a nanosecond it burned. It needed to be crushed to a thousand times the density of solid, and it was pushed there by something light cannot do by itself: light's own pressure is hundreds of times too feeble, so a capsule is a rocket that fires inward.

6 figures · part 10 on Radiation pressure

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