Field

Astrophysics

Gravity read as geometry, and the laws carried where no laboratory can follow.
Light crossing an accelerating box. A pulse crosses a box 6 m wide while the box accelerates at 9.81 m/s². The crossing takes 2·10⁻⁸ s, in which the far wall gains 1.96·10⁻⁷ m/s, so the pulse lands 1.96·10⁻¹⁵ m below the height it left at — and the path is a parabola. An observer sealed inside cannot tell that from a beam of light bending in a gravitational field, and the equivalence principle says there is nothing to tell. The sag is drawn 5.6·10¹⁴ times its true size.

The floor that cannot be told from gravity

Seal a laboratory, take away the windows, and no experiment inside it can distinguish standing in a gravitational field from accelerating through empty space. That is not a philosophical remark — it forces light to bend, forces clocks to disagree, and has a size at which it stops being true.

Where a clock gains, and where it loses. The rate of a clock in a circular orbit against one on the ground, in microseconds per day, plotted against altitude. Height makes it gain and speed makes it lose, and the two cancel exactly at 3186 km — where a satellite keeps the same time as the ground for two reasons that have nothing to do with each other. At 20200 km the total is 38.5 µs a day, which is about ten kilometres of position error if it is ignored.

The clock that runs slow lower down

Two identical clocks, one on the floor and one on a shelf, do not keep the same time — and the difference is large enough that a satellite navigation system which ignored it would be useless within a morning. The derivation needs nothing but a photon and a conservation law.

Two predictions, a factor of two apart. The deflection of light passing a mass, against impact parameter, on logarithmic axes. The lower line is what a Newtonian photon does — it falls while it crosses, and comes out bent by 2GM/bc². The upper line is what a geodesic does in curved spacetime, which is exactly twice that. At the surface of a body of 1.99·10³⁰ kg the two are 0.88″ and 1.75″. Both are straight lines of slope minus one, so the ratio is two everywhere and the measurement is a choice between two theories rather than a fit.

The bend Newton got half right

A photon treated as a falling body passes a mass and comes out deflected. So does a photon treated as a straight line in curved spacetime — by exactly twice as much. The factor of two is not a refinement; it is the sharpest available statement that gravity is geometry.

How small each mass would have to be. The Schwarzschild radius of 4 masses, on a logarithmic scale spanning 35 orders of magnitude. A horizon is not something a mass has; it is a size a mass would have to be squeezed inside. For the Sun it is 2.95 km against a real radius of 696,000 km, a factor of 2.36·10⁵. One row has no real size to set beside the number, which is the one case where the horizon is not hypothetical.

The surface that only lets things in

An eighteenth-century calculation asking where the escape speed reaches the speed of light gives exactly the right radius, by reasoning that is wrong in every step. What is actually there is not a surface in space at all, and nothing local happens when it is crossed.

What the distant observer actually receives. The frequency of a signal from a clock falling into a horizon, as received far away, against the receiver's own time. It is a straight line on a logarithmic axis, which means the fading is exponential: the e-folding time fitted to the drawn curve is 2.01 rs/c, which for a 10-solar-mass hole is 198 microseconds. Nothing hovers. The image reddens, the photons arrive at an exponentially falling rate, and within a millisecond there is nothing left to see.

Two clocks that disagree about the fall

A clock falling into a horizon crosses it in a few milliseconds by its own reckoning and never crosses it at all by a distant one. Both accounts are right, and the thing everybody remembers about the second — that the image hangs there for ever — is wrong.

What a passing wave does to a ring. A ring of 8 free masses at 4 phases of a passing gravitational wave, in both polarisations. The upper row is the + mode: one diameter lengthens while the perpendicular one shortens, and half a cycle later they swap. The lower row is the × mode, which is the same pattern rotated by forty-five degrees rather than ninety — the signature of a spin-2 field, and the reason a detector is built as two arms at a right angle. The drawn strain is 0.42; a real one is 10⁻²¹, so the deformation is exaggerated 4.2·10²⁰ times. At that true strain a four-kilometre arm changes length by 4·10⁻¹⁸ m.

The wave that stretches one way and squeezes the other

A gravitational wave passing through a ring of free masses lengthens one diameter while shortening the perpendicular one, then swaps. The two conservation laws that forbid anything simpler are why the effect is a part in a thousand million million million.

Which grains the light wins. The radiation force on a spherical grain divided by the gravitational force on it, against the grain's radius, on logarithmic axes. Both forces fall as the inverse square of the distance, so the ratio does not depend on how far away the grain is — only on how big it is. Light acts on the cross-section and gravity on the volume, so the ratio goes as 1/a, and the two are equal at 287 nm for material of density 2000 kg/m³. Anything smaller than that is expelled; anything larger stays.

Light has a pressure

Sunlight pushes on a square metre with about the weight of a grain of sand, which sounds like a curiosity until the object being pushed is small enough. The demonstration in every school cupboard turns the wrong way, and the reason it does is more interesting than the effect it is supposed to show.

The classical atom, and how long it lasts. An electron in a circular orbit of 5.29·10⁻¹¹ m loses energy at the rate the Larmor formula gives, so its radius obeys r³ = r₀³ − 4k²t/c³ and reaches zero in 1.556·10⁻¹¹ seconds — 16 picoseconds. It completes about 2.04·10⁵ orbits on the way, so the spiral is far too tight to draw. Nothing in this calculation is wrong: the acceleration is right, the radiated power is right, and the conclusion is that matter cannot exist. The curve is the shape of that conclusion.

A charge that turns must glow

An accelerating charge radiates, and a charge going round in a circle is accelerating. Apply that to an electron orbiting a nucleus and classical physics predicts that every atom collapses in sixteen picoseconds — a calculation with nothing wrong in it except its conclusion.

The same law, across twenty-eight decades. The mean free path 1/nσ against cross-section, for a target density of 6.83·10³⁰ targets per cubic metre — solid lead. It is a straight line of slope minus one, because there is only one thing in the law. At 10⁻²⁸ m² the path is 1.46 mm; at 10⁻⁴⁷ m² the path is 1.55 light-years. Nothing about the physics changes between those ends. Only the area does.

How far a neutrino gets

A mean free path is one over the number density times the cross-section, and nothing else. Change only the cross-section — by twenty-eight powers of ten — and the same arithmetic that gives a molecule seventy nanometres in air gives a neutrino a light-year of solid lead.

What a collapse does to a field. A body of radius 700,000 km carrying a field of 0.01 T, collapsing to 10 km. The flux through every comoving loop is fixed, so B goes as 1/R² and the field reaches 4.9·10⁷ T — a compression of 7·10⁴ in radius bought a factor of 4.9·10⁹ in field. The line has slope exactly −2 and that is the only claim being made: what a real object ends up with also depends on how well the flux was held, and on what generated it.

The field that cannot get out

Squeeze a lump of conducting fluid and its magnetic field comes with it, because the flux through any loop that moves with the material cannot change. Halve the radius and the field goes up fourfold; collapse by a factor of seventy thousand and it goes up by five thousand million.

Where a body can no longer be any shape it likes. The tallest mountain a body can carry, against the body's radius, on logarithmic axes, beside the line on which a mountain would be as tall as the body. The first falls as 1/R and the second rises as R, so they cross exactly once — here at 282 km, for rock of 200 MPa strength and density 3000 kg/m³. Below that radius a body's own gravity cannot enforce anything and it stays whatever shape it was made; above it, the shape is decided by gravity and the answer is a sphere. The crossing moves as the square root of the strength, so it is an order of magnitude and not a boundary.

The size at which a body becomes round

A mountain can be no taller than the height at which the rock beneath it begins to crush, and that height falls as the body gets bigger — so there is a size above which a mountain would have to be taller than the world it stands on. Above it, nothing can be any shape but a sphere.

The two lengths every mass has. The Compton wavelength and the Schwarzschild radius of the same mass, against mass, on logarithmic axes. One falls and the other rises, so they cross exactly once — here at 1.539·10⁻⁸ kg and 2.286·10⁻³⁵ m, found by bisecting the difference rather than by writing down √(ħG/c³). The conventional Planck values are 2.176·10⁻⁸ kg and 1.616·10⁻³⁵ m; the crossing sits a factor of 1.414 away from them, which is exactly √2 and is the factor of two in the Schwarzschild radius coming through a square root. That is the whole precision this argument has, and it is worth saying, because a number written to four figures invites a reader to believe the definition is doing more work than it is. Nothing in physics is known at that length.

Where every model runs out at once

Every mass carries two lengths — one below which quantum mechanics will not let it be located, one below which gravity will not let anything escape. One falls with mass and the other rises, so they cross exactly once, at a length nothing in physics has ever probed.

The term that abolishes the inner orbits. The effective potential of the Schwarzschild geometry per unit mass, in units of c², at 4 angular momenta, against radius in Schwarzschild radii. Newton's version has a minimum — a stable circular orbit — at L̃²/GM for every angular momentum there is, however small, and it is the dashed curve at the same L̃, here with its minima at 10.13, 7.61, 6.00, 5.12 rs. General relativity adds one term, −GM L̃²/c²r³, and that minimum stops existing below a definite angular momentum. At L̃ = 4.50 GM/c the barrier and the well are still separate, at 1.83 and 8.29 rs. The two merge at L̃ = √12 GM/c, at 3 rs = 6GM/c² — the innermost stable circular orbit, where the curve drawn here has neither a maximum nor a minimum but a single inflection. Below that momentum — the curve at L̃ = 3.20 GM/c — there is no stationary point anywhere outside the horizon, so no circular orbit exists at all, at any angular momentum whatever. None of that is a property of matter; it is a statement about the geometry, and it fixes the energy of the innermost orbit at √(8/9) = 0.94281 of mc², so 5.719% of the rest mass has been radiated by anything that reached it. Every well drawn here was located on the emitted curve by golden section and checked against the closed form.

The orbit that cannot be made smaller

Newtonian gravity allows a stable circular path at every radius, however tight, and there is no innermost one. General relativity adds a single term to the expression that says so, and below 6GM/c² no stable circular path exists at any angular momentum whatever. Anything arriving there has radiated 5.72% of its rest mass, which is eight times what hydrogen fusion converts.

How large a box may be before gravity shows in it. The largest freely falling laboratory in which nothing can be detected, against how long the experiment runs, for an instrument resolving 10⁻⁹ m. Free fall removes the field and leaves the gradient: two masses released a distance apart converge across the fall and separate along it, by (GM/r³)Lt²/2, so the box that stays undetectably flat shrinks as the square of the time. At one second the limits are 1.30 mm at the Earth's surface, 5.07 mm at the Sun's surface, 8.61 nm at a white dwarf, 1.86·10⁻¹⁷ m at a neutron star, 3.88·10⁻¹⁷ m at a stellar black hole, 388 mm at a giant black hole. Two things are worth reading off it. The equivalence principle is local in time as much as in space, on the same footing and with a worse exponent — patience is more expensive than room. And the tidal parameter GM/r³ falls with mass at a horizon, so a large enough black hole is one an experimenter could fall through with a metre-sized laboratory and a very good interferometer and detect nothing at all: the curve for the giant lies above the Earth's, not below it.

The term free fall cannot remove

Fall freely and gravity disappears. It disappears only to the extent that the falling laboratory is small — what survives is the gradient, which pulls two released masses together across the fall and apart along it. Given an instrument, the size of the box in which nothing is detectable is computable, and that number is the whole content of the word "locally".

The bigger the hole, the gentler the horizon. The difference in gravitational pull between the two ends of a 1.8 metre body, at the moment it crosses the horizon, against the mass of the hole. Both axes are logarithmic and the line is straight, of slope -2.00: the tidal acceleration at a horizon falls as the square of the mass, because the tide goes as the mass over the cube of the radius and the radius itself is proportional to the mass. At the low end — a hole of a few solar masses — the stretch is 1.9e+7 times Earth's gravity across a person, which pulls them apart long before they arrive. At the high end it is 1.9e-11, which is nothing at all: crossing the horizon of a large enough hole is locally unremarkable, and an observer would notice no boundary being passed. The two meet at 1.0e+4 solar masses, above which the horizon can be crossed intact. That is the sharpest available statement of what a horizon is and is not. It is not a surface, nothing is there, and nothing local marks it — it is the place from which no future path leads out, which is a statement about the whole of the future rather than about anything present.

The horizon that nothing marks

A falling body is torn apart by the difference in gravity between its ends. At the horizon of a black hole that difference goes as the inverse square of the mass, so a large enough hole can be entered intact — and nothing local happens at the crossing to say it has occurred.

The same start, four force laws. Orbits under 4 different central force laws, every one started at the same radius with the same fraction — 0.72 — of the local circular speed, and every one integrated for 6 radial oscillations. The paths are drawn to different scales because the excursions differ; what is comparable between the panels is whether the curve retraces itself. Under the inverse square it does: the orbit is a closed ellipse and the sixth circuit lies exactly on the first. Under the linear force it does too, and the ellipse is centred on the source rather than focused on it. Under anything in between the path is a rosette that never closes, because the angle between successive closest approaches is not a rational fraction of a full turn. Those angles are 180.0° at n = -2, 145.9° at n = -1.5, 126.4° at n = -1, 90.0° at n = 1. The closure is not a matter of degree — a rosette that nearly closes is not nearly a closed orbit, since after enough circuits it fills the annulus.

The orbit that does not come back to itself

A bounded orbit under any central force oscillates between a smallest and a largest radius for ever. That it should also return to the same point is a further demand, and only two force laws in existence meet it — the inverse square, and the linear spring.

A radar echo past the Sun, delayed by 233 microseconds. The extra time a round-trip radar signal takes when its path passes close to the Sun, against how close, for a reflector 0.723 AU away. Grazing the Sun's limb the delay is 233 microseconds — about 70 kilometres of light travel, on a path of hundreds of millions — and it falls only as the logarithm of the impact parameter, so the effect is still tens of microseconds ten solar radii out. That slow falloff is what makes the measurement possible: the delay can be watched building and fading as the geometry changes, rather than having to be caught at one instant. The dashed curves are the delay the solar corona's plasma adds at three radio frequencies. It is the competing effect, it is larger than the gravitational one close in, and it falls as the square of the frequency while the gravitational delay does not depend on frequency at all — which is how the two are separated, and why the sharpest measurement of this was made with a spacecraft carrying three radio links instead of one.

The delay that is not a bend

The same metric that bends a ray also slows it, and the two are different tests. A radar echo from Venus arrives 233 microseconds late when its path grazes the Sun — and half of that delay is accumulated more than twenty solar radii away, in a field thousands of times weaker.

The blow-out band has two edges, not one. The ratio of radiation force to gravity against grain radius, with the radiation-pressure efficiency included: a grain much smaller than the wavelength of the light barely interacts with it — the efficiency falls as the fourth power of the size, which is Rayleigh's law — so the ratio stops rising and turns over. The dashed line is the same ratio with the efficiency taken as one, which is the usual drawing and is right only to the right of the turnover at 115 nm. The consequence is that a grain can be too small to be blown out as well as too large. Taking the threshold at a half — the value at which a grain released from a circular orbit is unbound — the band runs from 48.2 nm to 574 nm, and the largest ratio any grain of this material reaches is 1.87. Everything outside that band stays, and what stays does not stay put: it spirals.

The size the light cannot blow away

Radiation pressure and gravity both fall as the inverse square of distance, so their ratio is a property of the grain and not of where it is. What follows is a band of sizes that get blown out — with a lower edge as well as an upper one — and a drag, on everything else, that is the same pressure read one order further in v/c.

How long an orbit has before the waves take it. The time a circular orbit has left before gravitational radiation brings it together, against its separation, for four pairs of masses. Both axes are logarithmic and every curve has the same measured slope, 4.00: the lifetime goes as the fourth power of the separation, so halving an orbit shortens its remaining life by a factor of sixteen. The Earth's orbit is 13 decades above the age of the universe and the neutron-star binary is below it, which is the whole difference between a system that is losing energy and a system that is going to merge.

The orbit that has to shrink

Two masses in orbit radiate gravitational waves and lose energy, so the orbit tightens, so they go faster and radiate harder. The runaway takes 10²³ years for the Earth and the Sun and eight minutes for the last thousand kilometres of a black-hole pair — and the same one-line formula gives both.

The line that slopes the wrong way. Mean temperature against total energy, for a self-gravitating sphere at nine radii. The points fall on a straight line of negative slope: taking energy away makes the body hotter. The heat capacity read off the drawing is -4.10e+34 J/K against the -4.10e+34 J/K the theorem gives, and the sign is the whole content. The dashed line is an ordinary gas in a rigid box, whose temperature rises when energy is added, as everything one can put a thermometer in does.

The ball of gas that heats up as it cools

Take energy away from a self-gravitating cloud and its temperature rises. Its heat capacity is negative, which nothing else stable does, and the consequence is that a star radiating into cold space is not cooling down — it is running up, and its whole life is a slow fall it cannot stop.

A lens with no focal length. Where a ray crosses the axis, against how far off the axis it passed the deflecting body, for 1 solar mass of radius 1 solar radius. A glass lens deflects a ray by an angle proportional to its distance off axis, which is precisely the condition for every ray to arrive at one point — the flat dashed line. Gravity deflects by 4GM/c²b, which grows smaller further out, so the crossing distance goes as b² and each ray has its own focus. The grazing ray crosses at 548 astronomical units and a ray passing at 12 radii crosses at 78857; the square law is verified on the drawn curve to 1.5e-16. So there is no image plane at all, only a half-line of foci beginning at the first of those and running outward for ever. Anything placed on that line sees not an image but a ring, and moving along it does not refocus anything — it selects which rays are being seen.

The lens with no focal length

A glass lens bends a ray by an angle proportional to how far off the axis it passes, which is precisely the condition for every ray to arrive at one point. Gravity bends by an angle that falls with distance off the axis, so every ray has its own focus and there is no image plane anywhere — only a half-line of foci, beginning 548 astronomical units from the Sun and running outward for ever.

The figure a static field is not allowed to close. A spacetime diagram of two clocks held at fixed heights 22.5 metres apart, drawn as though spacetime were flat: time upward, height to the right, light at forty-five degrees. The lower clock sends two pulses; the upper clock receives them. Because the field does not change with time, nothing about the second pulse's journey differs from the first's, so the two null lines are congruent and the four worldlines bound a parallelogram. Opposite sides of a parallelogram in flat spacetime have equal length, so the proper time between emissions must equal the proper time between receptions, and the two clocks must agree. They do not: the measured fractional difference across a tower this tall is 2.455e-15, which Pound and Rebka established in 1960 and Pound and Snider confirmed to one per cent in 1964. Every step above is either a definition, an assumption of staticity, or a theorem of flat geometry — so the measurement refutes the flatness. No field equation has been written down, and none is needed: a laboratory result twenty-two metres tall is already incompatible with a flat spacetime.

The parallelogram that will not close

Two clocks twenty-two metres apart in a lift shaft run at different rates, by two parts in a thousand million million. That measurement, on its own, is enough to prove that spacetime cannot be flat — and the proof needs no field equation, no curvature tensor and no astronomy. It needs one drawing and the fact that opposite sides of a parallelogram are the same length.

The field near a neutral point. Field lines near a magnetic null, traced by following the local field direction rather than plotted from the closed form. The field is B ∝ (y, k²x) with k = 1, whose lines are the hyperbolae y² − k²x² = constant and whose separatrices are the straight lines y = ±1x. At k = 1 the X is symmetric and the current density is exactly zero: the field is curl-free, and nothing is stored in it beyond the field itself. The four quadrants are four separate flux systems, and which of them a given line belongs to is the quantity a frozen-in field is not allowed to alter.

The knot the field cannot untie

A perfectly conducting fluid cannot change which field line joins which piece of it. So two flux systems pushed together may be squashed indefinitely and can never merge, and the energy of the squashing accumulates with nowhere to go. The release happens only where the perfect conductivity locally fails — in a sheet three metres thick inside a structure ten thousand kilometres across — and the rate that follows is a hundred thousand times too slow for the flares that are observed.

The self-force matters at 6.27 × 10⁻²⁴ s, and nowhere a charge has ever been. The ratio of the radiation reaction to the applied force, which is τ divided by the time the force takes to change, on a logarithmic axis. τ = μ₀q²/6πmc = 6.266e-24 s for an electron, and light crosses 1.879 femtometres in that time — two thirds of the classical electron radius. a 3 GHz accelerating cavity: 1.9e-14; a 500 nm optical field: 3.8e-9; an electron orbiting a proton, ground state: 4.1e-8; an X-ray at 0.1 nm: 1.9e-5; over a classical electron radius: 6.7e-1. The largest of them, "over a classical electron radius", is still 1.5e+0 times too slow. So the correction is never large for any force anybody can apply, and the only regime where it would be is one in which the charge's own structure has already made the whole description meaningless.

The force a charge exerts on itself

Larmor's formula says how much an accelerating charge radiates and says nothing about who pays. Conservation says the charge does, so there is a force on it — and the equation that force produces has a free particle accelerating for ever with nothing pushing it, or else beginning to move before it is pushed. Both solutions are absurd, and the interval over which they are absurd is smaller than the electron the equation was written for.

One line, 21 decades of density, and every mirror on it. Plasma frequency against electron density, both logarithmic, with the horizontal rules at frequencies a reader already has a feel for. A wave is reflected by everything to the right of where its own rule meets the line and passes through everything to the left. a fluorescent tube at 1.0e+17 m⁻³ cuts off at 2.84 GHz; ionosphere, D layer at night at 1.0e+8 m⁻³ cuts off at 90 kHz; ionosphere, E layer at 1.0e+11 m⁻³ cuts off at 2.84 MHz; ionosphere, F2 layer at 1.0e+12 m⁻³ cuts off at 8.98 MHz; aluminium's conduction electrons at 1.8e+29 m⁻³ cuts off at 3819.9 THz. So the F2 layer turns back a 1 MHz broadcast and lets a 100 MHz one straight out, which is why one of them is heard across an ocean at night and the other stops at the horizon; and aluminium's cutoff sits in the far ultraviolet, which is why it is a mirror for everything visible and a window above 78 nm. The dependence is a square root, so the line has slope one half: a hundredfold denser plasma reflects only ten times the frequency. Arriving at an angle helps by a factor of sec θ — 1.00 at 0°, 1.15 at 30°, 2.00 at 60° — because only the component of the motion along the density gradient has to be turned round.

The frequency below which nothing gets in

Free charges give a medium a permittivity that is negative, and a negative permittivity is not an absorbing medium — it is one in which no wave exists at all. Below that frequency the reflection is total, exactly rather than nearly, because there is no transmitted wave and nothing to absorb. The same expression puts the number at 9 MHz for the ionosphere and 3.8 PHz for aluminium.

Cold matter, and the mass above which nothing holds it up. The radius of a cold, degenerate star against its mass, obtained by integrating the equations of hydrostatic support outward from 11 different central densities with the exact degenerate equation of state, and nothing else. Heavier means smaller — the opposite of every ordinary object, and the direct consequence of a pressure that comes from counting states rather than from heat. The curve turns over and runs into a vertical asymptote at 1.452 solar masses, against 1.456 from the limiting polytrope, whose own constant 2.0182 is integrated here as well. That is Chandrasekhar's limit. It exists because the electrons become relativistic: once they are, the pressure goes as the four-thirds power of the density, and for that exponent alone the mass of a self-gravitating ball is independent of its radius — so squeezing it harder produces no more support and there is exactly one mass such a star can have. The horizontal line is the Earth's radius, which the curve crosses near a solar mass: a white dwarf of the Sun's mass is the size of a planet, and the ones close to the limit are a few thousand kilometres across. What the model leaves out is what actually happens at the top: at those densities electrons begin to be captured onto nuclei, which removes the very pressure holding the star up, so the collapse starts slightly below the line rather than at it.

The mass no cold matter can hold up

A white dwarf gets smaller as it gets heavier, which no ordinary object does. Follow that curve upward and the radius reaches zero at 1.46 solar masses — because once the electrons are relativistic the pressure goes as the four-thirds power of the density, and for that exponent alone the mass of a self-gravitating ball does not depend on its radius at all.

A click that arrives sorted by pitch. Arrival time against frequency for a broadband pulse travelling 40 megametres along a magnetic field line through a plasma of 1e+8 electrons per cubic metre in a field of 300 nanotesla — the magnetosphere, roughly. The gyrofrequency is 8.4 kilohertz and the plasma frequency 90 kilohertz, so this is the regime where a right-hand circularly polarised wave travels happily below both of them. It does not travel at one speed. The group velocity is 2c√ω(ω_c − ω)^(3/2)/(ω_p ω_c), which is zero at zero frequency and zero again at the gyrofrequency and peaks in between — at 2.10 kilohertz here, which is a quarter of the gyrofrequency, found by searching the drawn function rather than quoted. Everything either side of that peak is slower, so the curve has a nose: 3.21 s at 500 Hz, 2.20 s at 2000 Hz, 3.59 s at 5000 Hz. The branch below the nose is the classic whistler — a lightning stroke in one hemisphere reaching a receiver in the other as a note gliding downward over about a second, which is what gave the phenomenon its name — and the branch above it arrives as a rising tone at the same time. Both are observed, and a recording that shows the two joined at the nose is how the gyrofrequency along the path is read off directly. Read the other way it is an instrument: the product of the delay and the square root of the frequency is 79 s·Hz^½ here, nearly constant across the low end of the band, and it measures the electron content of a path through the magnetosphere that nothing else could reach.

The whistle that arrives sorted

A lightning stroke in one hemisphere reaches a receiver in the other as a note gliding downward over about a second. Nothing dispersed the sound; there was no sound. A radio pulse travelled forty megametres along a magnetic field line through a plasma whose group velocity depends on frequency, and arrived with its frequencies separated by up to three seconds.

Which wavelengths grow instead of oscillating. The dispersion relation of a self-gravitating isothermal gas, ω² = c²k² − 4πGρ, with each axis measured in the scale the gas sets for itself. Short wavelengths oscillate: pressure wins, and the disturbance is a sound wave. Long wavelengths do not: ω² is negative, so the disturbance grows exponentially instead of travelling, and the region collapses. The changeover is at λ_J = c√(π/Gρ), and it happens because pressure support acts on a sound-crossing time that grows with the region while gravity's collapse time does not depend on the size at all. Four densities spanning 6 decades are drawn and they lie exactly on top of one another, to 6e-16, because the criterion has no scale of its own: it is the same curve for a diffuse cloud and for a protostellar core, with different numbers written on the axes. In this gas at 10 K those numbers are 2.12 pc and 28.72 solar masses at 10² cm⁻³, 0.21 pc and 2.87 solar masses at 10⁴ cm⁻³, 4372 AU and 0.29 solar masses at 10⁶ cm⁻³, 437 AU and 0.03 solar masses at 10⁸ cm⁻³.

The disturbance that grows instead of travelling

A sound wave in a gas oscillates because pressure restores what the disturbance displaced. Add the gravity the gas exerts on itself and the restoring force acquires a competitor that does not weaken with size — so above one wavelength the sum changes sign, the frequency becomes imaginary, and the disturbance stops travelling and starts growing. It is the same wave equation with one term subtracted.

The charge a plasma hides. The potential around a charge in a plasma, as a fraction of the bare Coulomb potential at the same distance, against distance measured in screening lengths. The electrons crowd toward the charge and the ions move away until the rearrangement cancels the field, and what is left falls as exp(−r/λ_D) on top of the ordinary 1/r. At one screening length the potential is already down to 37 per cent of the bare value, at three to 5 per cent, and at ten to 4 × 10⁻⁵ — so a charge in a plasma is invisible beyond a few λ_D, and the long range of the Coulomb force, which is what makes electrostatics awkward everywhere else, is simply gone. The screening length at 10¹¹ m⁻³ is 3.8 mm at 300 K, 6.9 mm at 1000 K, 21.8 mm at 10000 K, rising as the square root of the temperature because a hotter electron is harder to hold in place. Drawn this way the three curves coincide exactly: the shape is universal and the only thing a plasma's density and temperature decide is the length written on the axis.

The long-range force that does not reach

The Coulomb force falls off as slowly as gravity does, which is what makes electrostatics awkward — every charge is in principle in contact with every other. Put the same charge into a plasma and it becomes invisible beyond a few millimetres, because the mobile charges around it rearrange until its field is cancelled. What is left is a screened potential with a definite range, and that range is what makes a plasma a plasma.

The brightest anything of a given mass can be. The Eddington luminosity against mass, with the main sequence drawn beside it. Radiation pushes outward on the electrons and gravity pulls inward on the protons, and both go as one over the distance squared — so the radius cancels out of the comparison entirely, checked here at three radii spanning four decades and coming out identical to 1e-20. What is left is a luminosity: L = 4πGMc/κ, which is 1.47 × 10³¹ watts per solar mass, or 3.8·10⁴ solar luminosities. Above it, radiation drives the outer layers away faster than gravity can hold them. The Sun is at 2.6e-5 of its own limit and in no danger; a star of 10 solar masses is at 1.2e-2; and a star of 100 is at 0.83, which is why the two lines converge at the top of the chart and why the most massive stars known are a few hundred solar masses rather than a few thousand. They do not fail to form for lack of gas; they blow away the gas that would have made them heavier, and once formed they shed mass continuously in a radiation-driven wind. The limit is the same expression for an accreting black hole, where it caps not the brightness but the rate at which mass can be taken on.

The brightness a mass cannot exceed

Light pushes outward on the electrons of a star and gravity pulls inward on its protons, and both forces fall off as one over the distance squared. The distance therefore cancels, and what is left is a limit on brightness rather than on size — 3.8 × 10⁴ times the Sun's luminosity for every solar mass, above which a body drives its own outer layers away.

The distance that does not know how big the moon is. How close a satellite held together by its own gravity can orbit before the tide pulls it apart, in units of the primary's radius, against how much denser the primary is than the satellite. The curve is the distance at which the tidal stretch across the satellite's own body equals the satellite's surface gravity. Setting those two equal cancels the satellite's radius on both sides, so a boulder and a thousand-kilometre moon of the same material break up at exactly the same distance — the limit is a ratio of densities and nothing else, and it goes as the cube root of that ratio, measured here as 0.3333. For ice around a planet of density 687 kg/m³ the rigid limit is 1.15 radii and the limit for a body that can deform under the tide is 2.23, because a satellite pulled into an egg presents a longer body to the tide and gives way sooner. Saturn's rings end at 2.27 radii, just outside that second number, and its innermost round moon orbits at 3.08 — so the boundary between a ring and a moon falls where this calculation puts it. What this calculation leaves out is strength: a body small enough for its material strength to beat its own gravity ignores the limit entirely, which is why Phobos is well inside Mars's and still in one piece, and why the Shoemaker–Levy fragments were held together by nothing at all.

The distance that forgets the moon

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

Nine hundred steps and hardly anywhere. On the left, a walk of 900 steps of unit length in uniformly random directions, which is what a photon does inside a star: it goes a mean free path, scatters, and starts again in a direction that has forgotten the last one. After 900 steps it is 7.5 lengths from where it began, against 900 if it had gone straight. On the right, the root-mean-square distance over 240 independent walks against the number of steps, both logarithmic: a straight line of slope 0.4920 against an exact one half. The square root is the whole of the result and it is brutal. Escaping a body of radius R takes not R/λ steps but (R/λ)² of them, so a mean free path a thousand times smaller costs a million times as long. That is the difference between a photon leaving the Sun's core and a neutrino doing it: one takes a hundred thousand years and the other takes two and a third seconds, through the same material, and the only thing that differs is λ. What the picture cannot show is the sense in which the escaping energy is not the photon that started: it is absorbed and re-emitted countless times, at falling temperature, so what leaves is a gamma ray's worth of energy arriving as a great many visible photons.

The light that takes a hundred thousand years to leave

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

Five rays, and the one that decides which side everything falls on. Light traced past a non-rotating mass at five impact parameters, by integrating the exact null geodesic rather than the weak-field formula. The shaded disc is the horizon and the dashed circle is the photon sphere at three masses. Rays passing closer than 5.196 masses are captured — 2 of the five here — and rays passing further escape, however far they are bent on the way. The two nearest the critical value behave in the most striking way: one wraps 1.06 times round before leaving and the other wraps round before falling in, and between them lies a ray that would circle for ever on the unstable orbit. Far away the same integration reproduces the familiar weak-field deflection: at sixty masses it gives 0.07021 radians against 4M/b = 0.06667, so the strong field and the weak one are one calculation.

The circle light cannot leave

A black hole has three radii and they are all sometimes called its size. The horizon is where nothing can come back from; the photon sphere, half again as far out, is where light can circle and cannot keep circling; and the shadow a distant observer sees is larger than either, because the ray that just escapes was bent on its way out.

A wave that dies with nothing to rub against. The electric field of a plasma wave at kλ = 0.5, against time in plasma periods, on a logarithmic scale, obtained by integrating the collisionless kinetic equation as an initial-value problem. There are no collisions in the equation, no viscosity and no resistance; the only operator acting on the distribution is a rotation of phase whose rate depends on the particle's speed. The field nevertheless falls exponentially, at 0.1534 per plasma period, against the published root of the kinetic dispersion relation at this wavenumber, 0.1534, and Landau's asymptotic formula's 0.1514. Meanwhile the free energy of the perturbation — the weighted norm of the distribution plus the field energy, which the equation conserves exactly — moves by 2.4e-10. So nothing has been dissipated: every joule the field loses is still in the distribution, and the accounting closes to a part in ten thousand million. The energy has gone into the particles' ordered motion, and the information about the wave is wound into structure at finer and finer scales in velocity.

The wave that dies with nothing to rub against

Every damping in this collection so far removes energy from a wave and puts it somewhere warmer. This one removes it and produces no heat at all: there are no collisions in the equation, the entropy is unchanged, the whole thing runs backwards perfectly, and the wave still dies exponentially. What it dies into is structure in velocity too fine for a field to see.

The one place in a plasma where the charges do not balance. The potential and the two densities through a sheath, in Debye lengths from the sheath edge, for a plasma of hydrogen ions. The potential is measured downward in units of the electron temperature and reaches 2.84 at the wall — the value at which the two fluxes balance. The layer is 15.1 Debye lengths thick — for 3 eV electrons at 1e+16 per cubic metre, a Debye length of 129 µm and a sheath of 1.9 mm. Inside it the electron density falls as the Boltzmann factor while the ion density falls only as the ions speed up, so the two separate: at the wall the ion density exceeds the electron density by 85 per cent of itself. That is the whole of the difference between a sheath and the plasma it borders — quasineutrality is not an assumption that can be made here, and Poisson's equation has to be solved instead of replaced.

The wall a plasma builds against itself

A plasma is quasineutral everywhere except where it touches something. Electrons are faster than ions by the square root of the mass ratio, so any surface is struck by far more of them, charges negative, and goes on charging until the two arrivals balance — leaving a layer a few Debye lengths thick in which the charges do not cancel at all.

A force that points across the beam, not along it. The intensity of a beam focused to a waist of 0.5 µm, and the force it exerts on a 60 nm polystyrene sphere in water, across the beam. The force is not a pressure and does not point along the light: it is the pull on an induced dipole sitting in a non-uniform field, proportional to the gradient of the intensity rather than to the intensity, and it points up the gradient — towards the bright axis from either side. It vanishes exactly on the axis, which is what makes the axis a trap rather than a place. The well is 47 times kT deep at 100 milliwatts, which is why the particle stays: thermal motion explores it and does not escape it. The stiffness near the bottom is 3.070 piconewtons per micrometre, and a particle in a spring that stiff wanders 36 nanometres from centre.

The light that pulls rather than pushes

Radiation pressure is momentum arriving, and it points along the beam. A gradient of intensity does something else entirely — it polarises a particle and then pulls the induced dipole up the gradient — so a focused beam holds a particle at its waist against the push, and the force that does it is not a pressure at all.

The arrow the orbit cannot turn. A Kepler orbit of eccentricity 0.6, integrated for two revolutions, with the Laplace–Runge– Lenz vector constructed from the position and velocity at five points along it. Every one of the five is the same arrow: its length varies by 3.7e-11 over the whole run and its direction by 2.1e-10 radians. It points at the perihelion and its length is 0.600000, which is the orbit's eccentricity measured independently from the closest and furthest radii as 0.600000. Energy and angular momentum fix the size and shape of an orbit and say nothing about which way it points; this vector is the missing statement, and only an inverse square has one.

The arrow that says which way the orbit points

Energy and angular momentum fix the size and shape of an orbit and say nothing about its orientation. The inverse-square force has a third conserved quantity that supplies it — a vector pointing at the perihelion whose length is the eccentricity — and no other force law does.

Where the instrument can hear. The response of an L-shaped interferometer to the plus polarisation, over the whole sky: azimuth across, cosine of the polar angle up, so that equal areas of the picture are equal areas of the sky. The plus pattern is largest directly overhead and underfoot and along the arms, and vanishes on four lines where a wave stretches both arms equally and the interferometer has nothing to compare. The average of the square over the whole sky is 0.2333, summed over a hundred and sixty thousand directions, and the two polarisations' averages add to 0.4000 — two fifths exactly, whatever the polarisation angle. Averaged over that angle as well, each polarisation contributes a fifth, and that fifth is what turns a strain sensitivity into a range: it is why a detector's quoted reach is substantially less than what it would manage for a source overhead. There is no direction in which the instrument is deaf to both polarisations at once, and none in which it is fully sensitive either.

What the instrument actually hears

A gravitational-wave detector is not a ruler laid against a stretching space. It is a clock comparison, its response falls to nothing at frequencies where the wave turns over while the light is still in the arm, and there are directions in the sky where it is deaf.

Colder the bigger it is. The Hawking temperature against mass, on logarithmic axes, with the microwave background drawn across it. The slope is minus one exactly, so a heavier hole is colder — a negative heat capacity, which is the fact everything else here follows from. The two lines cross at 4.50e+22 kg, about a hundredth of the Moon's mass. Anything heavier than that is colder than the sky it sits in and absorbs more than it emits, so it grows rather than evaporates. A stellar-mass hole is at 6.2e-8 kelvin and will not begin to lose mass until the background has cooled below that, which takes something like 10¹² years. Evaporation is not something happening now to any hole anybody has observed.

The hole that outlives everything and then does not

A black hole radiates at a temperature that rises as it shrinks, so losing energy makes it lose faster. The whole history follows from that one sign: a life proportional to the cube of the mass, nearly nothing happening for almost all of it, and an end that arrives in a second.

The power at stake, which is none. The power an electron radiates by Larmor's formula, against its acceleration, with 5 cases marked. a charge on a table: 9.8e+0 m/s², 5.49e-52 W; a laboratory centrifuge: 1.0e+6 m/s², 5.71e-42 W; a proton at the LHC: 1.9e+16 m/s², 2.06e-21 W; an electron in a linac: 2.0e+19 m/s², 2.28e-15 W; an electron in a hydrogen atom: 9.0e+22 m/s², 4.62e-8 W. The slope is two, measured on the drawn line. A charge held at one gravity radiates 5.49e-52 watts, which over the whole age of the universe comes to 2.39e-34 joules — far less than one photon of any kind. So the question of whether it radiates is not an experimental question about a charge on a table, and never has been. Every number here is a straight line on logarithmic axes with an exponent the figure measures.

Whether a charge on a table glows

The equivalence principle says a charge at rest in a gravitational field is a charge accelerating in empty space, and an accelerating charge radiates. Nothing is supplying the energy. The argument has run for eighty years, and its resolution is that radiation is not something a single observer can define.

Two terms, and the distance neither can beat. The smallest distance a probe of a given momentum can resolve, as the sum of two terms. The falling one is the uncertainty relation: more momentum, shorter wavelength, finer resolution. The rising one is gravity: the probe's own energy curves the region it is probing, and past a point it makes a horizon larger than the thing being looked at. With the gravitational term at 1× the Planck area, the least resolvable distance is 2.286e-35 m — each located by scanning the drawn curve over four hundred thousand momenta rather than by substituting into a formula. There is no momentum at which the resolution is better than that, so the ordinary procedure for measuring a distance has a floor, and the floor is the Planck length up to a factor of order one.

The length no experiment can resolve

Measuring a small distance needs a short wavelength, a short wavelength needs a large energy, and a large energy in a small region makes a horizon. Past a point, pushing harder makes the probe bigger — and the distance where that turns round is the Planck length.

The quantity that went down, and the one that went up. The books for GW150914: two black holes of 36 and 29 solar masses merging into one of 62, with a final spin of 0.67. 3.0 solar masses left as gravitational waves, so the mass fell by 4.6 per cent. The total horizon area rose, from 107417 to 168330 in units of the Sun's gravitational radius squared — an increase of 57 per cent. The two progenitors are taken as non-spinning, which is the assumption that makes the test hardest to pass: a spinning hole of the same mass has a smaller horizon, so any spin they actually had would only widen the gap. Mass is the quantity that behaves the way energy usually does and it is not the one with a direction. Area is, and it is the reason the area has been read as an entropy ever since.

The area that is not allowed to shrink

Two black holes merge and the result weighs less than the sum, because three solar masses left as gravitational waves. The horizon area went up by more than half. Mass is the quantity that behaves like energy and it is not the one with a direction; area is, and the theorem saying so has been tested against a real merger.

The height a clock can see. The fractional difference in rate between two clocks against how far apart in height they are, on logarithmic axes — a straight line of slope one, since the shift is gh/c² and comes to 1.09e-16 per metre near the ground. a caesium fountain, good to 1e-16, resolves 91.6 cm; an optical lattice clock, good to 1e-18, resolves 0.9 cm; the best clocks built, good to 8e-19, resolves 0.7 cm. The caesium fountains that define the second reach about a metre. The optical clocks that will replace them reach a centimetre, and the best of them a few millimetres. That is the whole of why this has stopped being a test of relativity and become a way of measuring the ground. A shift once so small that it took a Mössbauer experiment in a tower to see at all is now large enough to be a nuisance: two clocks in the same building disagree, and the disagreement has to be corrected for before either can be used to keep time.

The clock that measures a height

A clock a metre higher runs faster by a part in ten thousand million million million. That was once so small it took a tower and a Mössbauer source to see; the best clocks now resolve a centimetre of height, at any distance, without a line of sight. What began as a test of general relativity has become a surveying instrument that measures the quantity surveying actually wants.

Three centuries of finding nothing. The upper limit on η against the year it was set, on a logarithmic scale. Newton (1687) reached 1e-3; Bessel (1832) reached 2e-5; Eötvös (1922) reached 5e-9; Dicke (1964) reached 1e-11; Braginsky (1972) reached 1e-12; Eöt-Wash (2008) reached 2e-13; MICROSCOPE (2022) reached 1e-15. That is 12 orders of magnitude in 335 years, and every one of those measurements returned zero. A sequence of null results is not a sequence of failures. Each one is a statement that a principle assumed by every theory of gravity holds to a new level, and each new level excludes a class of theories that would have shown a departure there — a long-range force coupling to something other than mass-energy, a scalar partner to the graviton, a violation arising at some energy scale. The measurement is worth making again precisely because it has always come out the same way, which is what makes any departure decisive.

The fall that does not depend on what is falling

Everything falls at the same rate, and the statement has been tested for three hundred years by people looking for the exception. Twelve orders of magnitude have been added to the limit and every measurement has returned zero. The last three orders came not from a better instrument but from finding something bigger to fall towards.

One magnitude, and a direction that turns the wrong way. The force per unit area a magnetic field of 0.01 tesla exerts on a surface, drawn for surface normals at 0°, 30°, 45°, 60°, 90° to the field. The short grey arrows are the normals; the long coloured ones are the tractions. Every traction has the same length, 40 pascals, because the magnitude of T·n does not depend on the orientation of n at all — and the direction is the normal reflected in the field rather than carried round with it, so as the surface turns one way the force turns the other. A surface cutting across the field is pushed (the magnetic pressure); a surface cutting along it is pulled (the magnetic tension); and at 45° the traction lies in the surface, which is a shear and is neither.

The same force whichever way the surface faces

A magnetic field's stress is usually described as a pressure across the lines with a tension along them, as though it were two effects. It is one. The force per unit area is B²/2μ₀ on every surface however it is oriented, and only the direction changes — the surface normal reflected in the field, so that turning the surface one way turns the force the other. At 45° neither name applies.

Three speeds, drawn against direction. The phase speed of the three magnetohydrodynamic waves against the angle between the wavevector and the field, drawn as a polar diagram with the field horizontal and the sound speed 0.6 times the Alfvén speed. Along the field the two magnetosonic branches take the values of the sound speed and the Alfvén speed themselves and swap which is which as the ratio crosses one; across the field the slow branch vanishes entirely and the fast branch runs at the quadrature sum. The shear branch is the figure-of-eight, v_A cos θ, and it is the only one of the three whose speed contains no thermodynamic quantity — no pressure, no temperature, no sound speed. It does not know what the gas is made of.

The wave that does not know what the gas is made of

Give the magnetic tension of a bent field line an inertia and it becomes a string. The wave that runs along it goes at the same speed at every wavelength, compresses nothing anywhere, and has a speed containing no temperature, no pressure and no sound speed — it is the only wave in classical physics that is indifferent to what the medium is. Its energy travels along the field whatever direction the wave was sent in.

Two pushes that add up to a friction. The force on a sodium-23 atom from each of two counter-propagating laser beams tuned 0.5 linewidths below resonance, at 0.1 of saturation each, and their sum, against the atom's velocity in units of the linewidth over the wavenumber. Each beam pushes along its own direction and is heard loudest by an atom moving towards it, because the Doppler shift brings the red-detuned light up into resonance. At rest the two pushes cancel exactly; moving, the atom scatters more from the beam ahead of it than from the one behind, and the difference points against the motion. Near zero velocity the sum is a straight line through the origin — a friction, with slope −0.0907 ħk² — and it is largest at 3.13 m/s, beyond which the atom has been Doppler-shifted out of resonance with both beams and the grip weakens. The damping time it implies for sodium-23's mass is 17.5 microseconds.

The friction made of light

Two laser beams pointed at each other push an atom both ways at once, and at rest the pushes cancel. Moving, the atom hears the beam ahead of it louder than the one behind, and the difference is a friction. The photons that supply the friction arrive one at a time, so they also kick — and the temperature where the two balance contains the width of a spectral line and nothing else.

A hill that is always ahead of the atom. The light-shift potentials of the two ground sublevels of a spin-½ atom in two counter-propagating beams with crossed linear polarisations, over one and a half wavelengths, in units of the well depth. The polarisation of the light turns from σ+ to linear to σ− every quarter wavelength, and the two sublevels see sinusoidal potentials a quarter wavelength out of step. Optical pumping transfers the atom from one sublevel to the other fastest exactly where its own potential is highest — the fastest pumping and the hilltop coincide, which the figure checks — and that is the bottom of the other potential. The heavy line is an atom that starts with 3.3 well depths of kinetic energy: each time it reaches a hilltop it is pumped down by exactly one well depth, climbs the next hill, and is pumped down again, 3 times, until it no longer has the energy to reach a hilltop and is left oscillating in one well. The energy is carried off by the pumping photon, which leaves bluer than the light that drove it by the depth of the well.

The limit that belonged to a simpler atom

The theory of laser cooling predicted a floor, and the first careful measurement came in six times below it. Nothing was wrong with the measurement or the arithmetic. The floor belonged to an atom with one ground state, and real atoms have several — which lets the light build a hill in front of every atom, move it to the bottom before it can roll back, and repeat the trick until the atom is a few microkelvin from rest.

Radiated while the push holds, paid for when it stops. The power a charge radiates, the power the radiation reaction force takes from its motion, and the rate of change of the Schott term mτ a·v, through a push that rises over the first 20 per cent of its duration, holds steady, and falls away over the last 20, in units of mτa₀² where a₀ is the steady acceleration. Radiated power is a², the reaction force's take is −ȧv, and the Schott rate is found by differencing a·v along the trajectory; at every instant the first equals the sum of the other two. While the push is steady the reaction force is exactly zero and the charge still radiates at the full rate, all of it drawn from the Schott term. When the push stops, ȧ is large and negative while the charge is moving fast, and the reaction force takes 0.775 units, more than the 0.750 radiated over the whole push. The difference is what it handed back while the push was starting: then the charge is still slow, the reaction force points along the rising acceleration, and it does 0.025 units of work on the charge instead of taking any. The totals agree to a part in a hundred thousand.

The bill that arrives when the pushing stops

A charge accelerating steadily radiates at the full Larmor rate while the radiation reaction force on it is exactly zero, so for as long as the push holds, nothing about the charge's motion pays a single watt. The energy is lent by the field that travels with the charge, the loan is called the Schott term, and it is repaid the moment the acceleration changes.

The month a binding energy would bend. The Moon's orbit seen with the Sun held off to the right, drawn as it would be if the Earth's binding energy fell towards the Sun more weakly than the rest of it. The Earth is bound by 4.5 × 10⁻¹⁰ of its mass-energy and the Moon by 1.9 × 10⁻¹¹, so with the Sun pulling at 5.93 mm/s² the Moon is pushed sunward relative to the Earth by 2.6 × 10⁻¹² m/s² for every unit of η. That push turns once a synodic month relative to the orbit, 29.53 days, and Hill's equations about a circular orbit — integrated from the forced solution and held on it to 4 × 10⁻¹¹ over twelve months — give a radial displacement of 8.0 m times η times the cosine of the lunar phase: outward at new moon, inward at full. The complete lunar theory, with the Sun's tide on the orbit included, gives 13.1 m. The displacement is drawn about 7 × 10⁶ times larger than it would be at η = 1.

The binding energy that has to fall too

Every laboratory test of the equivalence principle compares bodies whose own gravity is a part in 10²⁵ of their mass, so none of them can ask whether gravitational binding energy falls like everything else. The Earth is bound by five parts in ten billion and the Moon by twenty times less, and if that difference fell differently the Moon's orbit would lean towards the Sun once a month — by a distance lasers have been measuring since 1969.

The electrode that walks itself negative. An electrode driven through a blocking capacitor by a symmetric waveform of amplitude 20 kTe, in an argon-like plasma whose electrons are collected 108 times as readily as its ions at saturation, starting uncharged. Potentials are relative to the plasma, in electron temperatures. On the first positive half-cycle the electrode draws a flood of electrons and nothing on the negative half-cycle can return the charge, because the ions arrive at a fixed, small rate; the electrode walks down, and within 6 cycles its mean potential is within half an electron temperature of the self-bias. That bias, found by integrating the charging, is −22.27 kTe, and the charge balance with a Bessel function gives −22.27. The floating potential of the same wall undriven is −4.68. At 3 eV, a 60 V drive makes a 67 V bias with no direct current supplied anywhere.

The bias no battery supplies

Drive an electrode in a plasma through a capacitor with a perfectly symmetric waveform and it charges to a steady negative voltage almost as large as the waveform's own amplitude. No direct current flows anywhere and no battery is connected. The plasma's sheath lets electrons in far more easily than it lets them out, and every semiconductor wafer etched in the last forty years was held at a voltage made that way.

The one prediction the Planck scale makes. The energy density the vacuum should have, from summing the zero-point energy of a field's modes up to a cutoff, against where that cutoff is put — thirty decades of cutoff energy and a hundred and thirty of density, both logarithmic. The horizontal line is what is measured: 5.34e-10 joules per cubic metre, the dark energy that accounts for sixty-nine per cent of the universe. Cutting the sum off at the Planck energy — which is where dimensional analysis says every description available runs out — overshoots it by 10^121. That is the largest disagreement between an estimate and a measurement anywhere in physics, and the slope of the line is why it cannot be argued away: the density goes as the fourth power of the cutoff, so cutting off at the electroweak scale still overshoots by 10^54 and cutting off at one electronvolt — below which no physics is in doubt at all — still overshoots by 10^8. The cutoff that would give the right answer is 8.0e-3 electronvolts, which is a wavelength of about a tenth of a millimetre and corresponds to no known physics whatever.

The estimate that misses by a hundred and twenty

Every argument about the Planck scale is an argument about consistency rather than about data, with one exception. The zero-point energy of the quantum fields gravitates, dimensional analysis at the Planck cutoff says how much, and what is measured is 10¹²¹ times smaller. It is the largest disagreement between an estimate and a measurement anywhere in physics, and lowering the cutoff does not rescue it.

How large the hidden dimensions would have to be. The size extra dimensions would need, for gravity's true scale to be at a TeV rather than at 10¹⁹ GeV, against how many of them there are — a logarithmic axis of metres, for three choices of the true scale. The relation is the one that makes the arrangement work: the Planck mass observed in four dimensions is M_*^(2+n)Rⁿ, so gravity is weak because its field spreads into a volume nothing else can enter. Solved for R at a true scale of a TeV: 1 dimension needs 2.9e+13 m, 2 dimensions needs 2.4e-3 m, 3 dimensions needs 1.0e-8 m, 4 dimensions needs 2.2e-11 m, 5 dimensions needs 5.4e-13 m, 6 dimensions needs 4.5e-14 m. The two horizontal lines are where experiment has been. One extra dimension would have to be of order a hundred astronomical units, which would have wrecked the orbits of the planets and is excluded absolutely. Two would have to be of order a millimetre — which is what made the arrangement famous, because a millimetre is a distance a laboratory can test, and torsion balances have since verified the inverse-square law down to fifty-two micrometres and excluded it. Three or more sit below a nanometre, where no gravitational measurement reaches, and are untouched.

The scale that may not be where it looks

Every Planck number assumes gravity is four-dimensional all the way down. If it is not — if the field spreads into dimensions compact enough to have escaped notice — the true scale where gravity becomes strong could be at a TeV, and the whole remoteness of the Planck scale would be an artefact of where the field lines go. It is the one part of the subject an experiment can address, and the experiments have addressed it.

A few cycles, and everything about them is two numbers. The strain radiated by a remnant of 62 solar masses spinning at 0.68 of its maximum, as it settles down, with the decaying envelope of its fundamental mode drawn over it. The fundamental rings at 274 hertz and decays in 3.7 milliseconds, which is 1.0 cycles — this is not a bell and it does not sustain. Every frequency and every decay time in the sum is fixed by the mass and the spin alone; nothing about what made the remnant survives into them. What does depend on the collision is how loudly each mode is excited, and the relative amplitudes here are the rough values a merger of two comparable masses produces rather than a prediction.

A few cycles that are only mass and spin

After the orbit is gone there is one object left, distorted, and it settles down by radiating at frequencies that belong to it rather than to the collision. For a black hole those frequencies are fixed by the mass and the spin and by nothing else — so the first mode measured is a measurement and every mode after it is a test, and the test is that four curves in one plane pass through one point.

The ring does not come back. A ring of freely floating masses at four phases of a passing gravitational wave and once after it has gone. The first four are the familiar picture: stretched one way, then the other, with the area unchanged. The fifth is the one the standard picture does not draw — the ring is permanently deformed, by 25 per cent of the largest deformation the wave itself produced, and nothing brings it back. The masses are not oscillating about a new centre; they are at rest, at new separations. Both the oscillation and the offset are exaggerated enormously: the real strain at 440 megaparsecs is 9.9e-22 and the real permanent offset is 2.5e-22, so the drawing magnifies both by about 2e+20. What is honest in the picture is the ratio between them.

The ring that does not come back

Every picture of a passing gravitational wave shows a ring of free masses stretched, squeezed and let go. The last frame is wrong. The ring ends a different shape — permanently, with the masses at rest at new separations — by about a fifth of the largest distortion the wave itself produced. What sources the offset is the energy the wave carried away, so the wave is remembering itself, and nobody has measured it.

The field a pinch gives up relaxing into. The axial and azimuthal field across a cylinder of conducting plasma in the minimum-energy state at fixed helicity, Bz = J₀(λr) and Bθ = J₁(λr), drawn for λa = 1.5 and λa = 3. Solid lines are the axial field and dashed lines the azimuthal field. Both satisfy ∇×B = λB, checked by finite differences at three radii, so the current runs along the field everywhere and the field exerts no force on the plasma. At λa = 3 the axial field passes through zero at r = 0.802a and is reversed outside it. The reversal needs λa above 2.405, the first zero of J₀, and nothing was imposed at the edge to produce it. λa = 1.5: pinch parameter Θ = 0.75, reversal parameter F = 0.688. λa = 3: pinch parameter Θ = 1.50, reversal parameter F = -1.150.

The twist that outlives the turbulence

A plasma pinch driven hard enough goes violently unstable, and then settles into the same quiet state however it was started — with the field at its edge pointing backwards. The explanation is that turbulence destroys almost every constraint a perfect conductor obeys and spares one. The magnetic helicity, a measure of how twisted and linked the field is, decays far more slowly than the energy, and a field that has shed all the energy it can at fixed helicity has only one shape available to it.

Both clocks move, and their ratio does not. Two years of a clock's fractional frequency against a distant clock (upper panel), and of the ratio of two unlike clocks kept side by side (lower panel). Above, both clocks slow as the Earth nears the Sun, with an amplitude of 1.65·10⁻¹⁰, and if the redshift is universal the two curves are one curve. Below, the ratio: the flat line is what universality predicts, and the sinusoid is what a clock responding to the potential 10⁻⁶ more strongly than the other would produce — an annual term of 1.65·10⁻¹⁶, a million times smaller than the shift both clocks share and within reach of clocks that compare to parts in 10¹⁷.

The clocks that must all slow together

Every clock on the Earth runs slower in January than in July, by three parts in ten thousand million, because the orbit carries the planet deeper into the Sun's potential at perihelion. No clock on the Earth can see this, and that invisibility is the claim worth testing. If the redshift is a property of time rather than of clocks, two clocks built on different physics must slow by exactly the same fraction, and their ratio must not move with the seasons. A ratio that did move would mean the constants of nature depend on where they are measured.

All essays