Field

Mechanics

Motion, force, and the quantities that refuse to change.

The pendulum's phase portrait. Angle plotted against angular velocity. Closed loops are swinging back and forth; the open curves above and below are rotating all the way round; the dashed curve between them is the separatrix.

The pendulum, and the small lie that makes it simple

A pendulum's period does not depend on how far it swings. This is one of the most useful false statements in physics, and it is worth knowing exactly how false.

Trajectories at one speed and several angles. Projectile paths launched at the same speed and five different angles. The 45° launch travels furthest, and the 20° and 70° launches land in the same place.

The angle that throws furthest, and why nobody notices

Forty-five degrees is the answer, and the maximum is so flat that a throw ten degrees off loses almost nothing. Both halves of that are worth drawing.

A block on a 27° incline. Free-body diagram of a block resting on an inclined plane: weight straight down, resolved into a component pressing into the surface and one pulling along it, with friction opposing the slide.

The slope, and the two directions that make it easy

An inclined plane looks like a harder problem than a flat one. Split the weight into two components chosen to suit the slope and it becomes an easier one.

A collision with restitution 0.6. Two bodies before and after a head-on collision. Momentum is the same on both rows by construction; kinetic energy is only preserved when the collision is elastic.

Collisions are easier than forces, and momentum is the reason

Nobody knows what happens inside a collision. Momentum conservation makes that ignorance irrelevant, which is the whole trick — and energy, deliberately, is not conserved.

A harmonic well. Potential energy against position, with a horizontal line at the total energy. The motion is confined to where the line lies above the curve, and the turning points are the intersections — computed by solving for them, not marked by hand.

The hill that gives it back, and the forces that do not

Potential energy turns a question about motion into a picture of a landscape. It works for gravity and springs, it fails for friction, and the difference between those two cases is the whole of what makes energy useful.

Velocity and acceleration in uniform circular motion. Velocity drawn tangent to a circular path and acceleration drawn toward its centre, at eight points around the circle. The speed never changes and the acceleration is never zero; the two vectors are perpendicular everywhere.

Turning is an acceleration, and constant speed does not help

An object going round a circle at unchanging speed is accelerating hard, all the time, toward a point it never reaches. The construction that shows this needs two arrows and no calculus.

The pendulum's period against its amplitude. The exact period of a simple pendulum divided by the small-angle period, plotted against amplitude. The small-angle formula is the horizontal line at one; the exact curve leaves it slowly and then climbs without limit as the amplitude approaches a half turn.

The period that depends on the swing, computed exactly

A pendulum's period is not independent of amplitude. The exact answer is an elliptic integral, it has no elementary form, and plotting it shows precisely where the famous approximation earns its keep and where it collapses.

The same 120 N force at 3 different arms. 3 spanners of different lengths, each with the same 120 newton force applied at its end. The torque printed under each is the force times its own moment arm, so it rises with the length while the force does not change.

The same push, further out, and why that is a different quantity

A force is not enough to say whether something turns. What decides is where the line of the force passes, and the distance from the pivot to that line is the whole of the story.

Released together on a 20° slope, 1.1 s later. 3 bodies of different shape, released from the same line on a 20 degree slope and drawn where each has reached after 1.1 seconds. The order is sphere, then disc, then hoop. Each spoke is turned by the distance that body has rolled divided by its radius.

The mass, and where it sits, which is what decides the race

Release a hoop and a marble together on a slope and the marble wins, whatever they weigh and whatever their size. Neither mass nor radius survives the arithmetic; only the arrangement does.

What friction returns, against what it is asked for. The friction force on a block under a 50 N normal load, against the force applied to it. Below 30.0 N — the static limit μs·N — friction returns exactly what is asked for and nothing moves, so the curve is the 45° line and the coefficient never appears. At that point the surface gives way and the force drops to μk·N = 22.5 N, where it stays however hard the block is pushed. The gap above the flat line is the surplus that accelerates it: 22.5 N at the right-hand edge of the axis.

The force that takes what it needs

Static friction has no value of its own. It supplies exactly what equilibrium demands and not a newton more, right up to the moment it cannot — which is the only instant in the whole business at which a coefficient of friction means anything at all.

Every minimum is a parabola

A pendulum, a bond between two atoms and a ship rolling in a swell obey the same equation, and the reason is not that they are alike. It is that a function with a minimum has no linear term there, so the first thing every potential well looks like is the same well.

The forces that are not there

Writing Newton's law in a frame that is turning produces three extra terms. Nothing was added to the world to make them appear and nothing is removed by calling them fictitious — one of them flattens the planet, one of them turns the weather, and both are computable to four figures.

A collision with restitution 0.4. Two bodies before and after a head-on collision. Momentum is the same on both rows by construction; kinetic energy is only preserved when the collision is elastic.

The point that keeps moving as if nothing had happened

Newton's third law makes every internal force cancel against its own partner, which leaves the external sum governing a single mass-weighted average of positions. In the collision below the total momentum stays at 4.00 kg·m/s while 63 per cent of the kinetic energy leaves, and the average travels at 1.00 m/s throughout, before and after.

The two normal modes of a coupled pair at kc/k = 0.1. Two equal masses, each held to a wall by a spring of stiffness k and to each other by a coupling spring of 0.1k. Above: the in-phase mode, in which both masses move the same way by the same distance, the coupling spring never changes length, and the frequency is therefore 1.0000√(k/m) — the coupling does not appear in it at all. Below: the out-of-phase mode, in which the coupling spring changes length by twice the displacement, so each mass feels k + 2kc and the frequency rises to 1.0954√(k/m), a ratio of 1.0954. Both displacement patterns are the eigenvectors of the pair's stiffness matrix, obtained from its trace and determinant and checked against those two square roots. The red arrows are the force each mass is pulled back by, computed as −Kx: 1.00kA in the first mode against 1.20kA in the second, a factor of 1.20, which is the square of the frequency ratio because ω² is a stiffness over a mass. Any motion of the pair whatsoever is a sum of these two and nothing else.

The two pendulums that will not stop swapping

Coupled oscillators joined by a weak spring appear to hand energy back and forth. Nothing is handed anywhere: the system has only a pair of motions that keep their shape, at √(k/m) and √((k+2kc)/m), and the apparent traffic is the beat between them — 51 swings from one handover to the next at a coupling of one part in fifty. Extend the same arithmetic to N masses and it produces a dispersion relation with a hard ceiling, near 7 THz in copper.

Every path the body can take, at one angular momentum. The angular momentum vector, drawn in the body's own frame on the sphere its length confines it to, for a body whose principal moments are 3.068e-3, 6.817e-3 and 9.750e-3 kg m². Each closed curve is one motion, traced by integrating Euler's equations rather than by solving for the intersection of the sphere with the energy ellipsoid, so a curve closes only if the physics closes it. The low-energy curves circle the greatest-moment axis and the high-energy ones circle the least; both sets are small loops that stay near their axis, which is what stability looks like. Between them is the one curve that is not a loop at all — four arcs, drawn heavier, meeting at the intermediate axis and leaving it again. A body spun about that axis is balanced on the crossing point of paths that go somewhere else, which is the whole of why it does not stay.

The axis that will not hold

A book spun about its long edge keeps spinning about it. Spun about the axis through its covers, it keeps spinning about that. Spun about the third axis, it flips end over end, again and again, with nothing touching it. Three numbers decide, and what matters is only their order.

Which failure comes first. The dividing line between a block that slides and one that tips over, for a horizontal push applied at the top. Sliding needs a force of μ_s times the weight; tipping needs the push's moment about the leading bottom edge to beat the weight's, which is the weight times half the width. The weight appears in both and cancels, so the boundary is the curve aspect ratio = 1/2μ_s and nothing else: not the mass, not how hard the block is pushed, and not what it is made of except through μ. At μ_s = 0.5 the dividing shape is as tall as it is wide; at μ_s = 0.2 it is 2.5 times as tall. Of the 5 objects marked, 3 sit above the line and go over rather than sliding: a paperback, standing, a full filing cabinet, a pint glass.

Slide or topple

Push a wardrobe and it goes over; push a brick and it skids. Both are held by the same friction and both are pushed by the same hand, and which of the two failures arrives first has nothing to do with how hard the push is. The floor decides it, by shifting where it pushes back.

One equation, and the number that decides what it does. The same oscillator released from rest at one unit of displacement, with 4 different amounts of velocity-proportional loss. Every curve is a numerical integration of a single equation with no case analysis in it; what changes between them is one dimensionless number, the damping ratio. Below one, the two exponents are a complex conjugate pair and the motion crosses zero over and over inside a decaying envelope. At one they collide into a real double root and the trace reaches the axis and stops. Above one they are two distinct real numbers, the slower of them dominates, and the return is sluggish — an overdamped system takes longer to come back than a critically damped one, which is the thing the word 'over' is doing in its name. The ratios drawn are 0.15, 0.5, 1, 2, and the first zero crossing happens at 1.75 s for ζ = 0.15, 2.42 s for ζ = 0.5, never for ζ = 1, never for ζ = 2.

The three ways of coming to rest

An oscillator with friction in it can swing and fade, arrive and stop, or crawl back so slowly it looks stuck. One equation and one number decide which. The number is not what most people would guess, and neither is the value that returns fastest.

Arms in: 4.33× the rate, and 4.33× the energy. A body of 1.2 kg m² carrying two 4 kg masses on arms, spinning freely at 60 revolutions a minute with the arms out at 0.75 m, as the arms are pulled in to 0.12 m. The axis runs right to left, in the direction the arms move. Angular momentum is flat — nothing exerts a torque about the axis, and pulling inward is a force along a radius, which has no moment about the centre. The rate rises as the inverse of the moment of inertia, by a factor of 4.33 here, and the kinetic energy L²/2I rises by exactly the same factor, which is where the usual account stops and where the question starts. The fourth curve is the work done by whoever pulled the arms in, integrated from the force needed to hold each mass on its circle. It lies on the energy curve, to 1.6e-7 joules. Nothing is unaccounted for and nothing is created: the energy is bought, at full price, by pulling against the force that would otherwise fling the arms out.

The quantity that survives a change of shape

A skater pulls her arms in and spins four times faster. Angular momentum is conserved, which is the usual explanation, and it accounts for only half of what happened — because the kinetic energy has gone up by the same factor, and something had to pay for it.

A 120 g top at 3000 rpm, precessing once every 1.92 s. A disc of radius 30 mm spinning at 3000 revolutions a minute on a shaft 45 mm long, tilted 30° from the vertical. The weight acts at the centre of mass and the pivot holds the bottom, so the torque about the pivot is horizontal and at right angles to the plane containing the axis and the vertical. Angular momentum points along the axis; a torque at right angles to a vector turns it without changing its length, so the axis sweeps round the dashed circle instead of falling. The precession rate is Mgl divided by I₃ω₃ to leading order, which is 3.269 radians a second here, or one turn every 1.92 seconds — slower the faster it spins.

The push that comes out sideways

Push down on a spinning wheel's axle and it swings horizontally. Nothing about that is mysterious once angular momentum is a vector — but the steady precession every demonstration shows is a solution nobody's initial conditions select, and a top released from rest does something else first.

The same steady pull, twice. Spring force divided by the normal load, against time, with the far end drawn away at 100 µm/s in both traces and every property of the contact the same. The soft holder at 0.4 k_c produces events every 3.75 s, each of which reaches 0.94 m/s — 9.4e+3 times the speed it is being pulled at. The stiff one at 1.6 k_c settles to a straight line and stays on it.

The chatter a stiffer holder removes

A brake squeals, a bow sounds a string, a fault slips in jerks. The usual explanation is that static friction exceeds kinetic friction — and that explanation, taken seriously, predicts the jerking would happen no matter how the thing were held. It does not, and what decides is a length nobody mentions.

Six observers, six energies, one loss. The kinetic energy of the same collision before and after it, as measured by observers moving at 6 different speeds. No two of them agree about how much energy there was: the totals here range from 5.50 to 25.50 in the same units. Every one of them agrees about how much was lost — the gap between the two curves is 3.413 for all of them, varying by 6.2e-15. Energy is a quantity an observer owns; a change in it is not, and that is why heat, deformation and sound can be counted at all.

The energy that depends on the observer

A moving train has kinetic energy. Watched from a second train alongside it, it has none. Both statements are correct, neither can be corrected, and the whole of mechanics still works — because what conservation laws constrain is not how much energy there is but how much of it changes.

The length nobody has to measure

A pendulum's period depends on its length, so a pendulum will measure gravity — except that a real swinging bar has no single length, and finding where its mass effectively sits is far harder than timing it. Kater's answer was to build the instrument so that the awkward quantity cancels, leaving a distance between two knife edges that a rule can read to five figures.

Thrust against the air it is supposed to be pushing on. The thrust of one F-1 engine against ambient pressure, in atmospheres. It is 6.78 meganewtons at sea level and 7.77 in vacuum — 14.6 per cent more with the air taken away. The line falls at exactly 9.787 newtons per pascal, which is the nozzle's exit area, because the term is (p_e − p_a)·A_e: the ambient pressure pushes on the exit plane from outside and there is nothing to push back on it. The account in which the exhaust shoves against the atmosphere makes the opposite prediction — thrust falling with the pressure and vanishing in vacuum — and it is not a small disagreement about a coefficient. It has the sign wrong. A rocket works better in vacuum than in air, and every engine ever fired has said so.

The push that needs nothing to push against

A rocket engine produces more thrust in vacuum than at sea level — fifteen per cent more, for the engine drawn here, and the extra is exactly the ambient pressure times the nozzle's exit area. The account in which the exhaust shoves against the atmosphere does not merely overstate a coefficient. It has the sign wrong, and every engine ever fired has said so.

Rough contact grows as W^1.000, and one smooth bump as W^0.667. Real contact area against load, both logarithmic, three ways. Plastic flow of the asperities gives A = W/H, a slope of exactly one, which is the account Bowden and Tabor's argument uses. A single elastic sphere gives Hertz's answer, A ∝ W^(2/3), and a friction coefficient falling as W^(−1/3) — Amontons' law would be false. A rough elastic surface, with many asperities spread exponentially in height and integrated here rather than quoted, gives a slope of 1.0000, because pressing harder mostly recruits new contacts rather than enlarging existing ones. The dotted curve repeats that integration with a Gaussian spread of heights and gives 0.9695 — the upper tail of a Gaussian is nearly exponential, so the answer is nearly and not exactly linear. Amontons' law does not need plasticity. It needs roughness, it is exact for one distribution and good to three per cent for another, and it survives whichever way the individual junctions deform.

The grip that is not a coefficient

A friction coefficient is independent of load and of area, and the reason is usually given as plastic flow of the asperities. It is not — a rough elastic surface gives the same law, integrated here to a slope of 1.0000, because pressing harder recruits new contacts rather than enlarging old ones. What breaks the law is a contact that is smooth, or a material that dissipates in its bulk — where μ passes one and stops being a coefficient at all.

Indistinguishable for 10.2 seconds, then not. The path of the lower bob for two double pendulums released 1e-8° apart, over 11 seconds, with the arms drawn at the final instant. The two traces lie on top of each other for the first 10.2 seconds — the point at which they are two pixels apart on this canvas — and after that they have nothing to do with one another. Neither is more correct: both are exact solutions of the same equations, differing only in a release angle that no apparatus could set apart. The separation is growing at 2.05 per second the whole time, including during the stretch where the picture shows one curve.

The error that doubles on a schedule

Two double pendulums released a hundred-millionth of a degree apart follow one curve for ten seconds and then have nothing to do with each other. The separation grows exponentially the whole time, including while the picture shows a single trace — which turns unpredictability into a rate, and makes the length of a forecast the logarithm of the precision rather than anything proportional to it.

Phase portraits of the standard map at 2 couplings. The standard map p → p + K sin θ, θ → θ + p, iterated 220 times from 12 starting points, at couplings of 0.6 and 1.3. Both coordinates run from 0 to 2π. An orbit that lies on a curve spanning the picture from left to right is an invariant circle, and nothing can cross it; an orbit that fills an area is chaotic; an orbit that circulates round a centre is trapped in a resonance island. At K = 0.6, orbits launched on p = 0 get no further than 1.55 in p, so a spanning curve is still there. At K = 1.3, orbits launched on p = 0 get no further than 10.78 in p, so a spanning curve is gone and transport is global. The point of the pair is that the change between them is not a change of character in any single orbit — chaotic orbits and regular ones coexist on both sides — but the loss of the barriers that kept the chaotic ones local.

The last curve to go

Chaos does not arrive all at once. Order is destroyed a resonance at a time, and there is a coupling — 0.971635, known to six figures — at which the final barrier separating one part of the phase space from another gives way. Below it a chaotic orbit is still trapped; above it nothing stops it.

What a scale reads while a chain falls onto it. The reading of a scale, in units of the whole chain's weight, against the length of chain that has already landed, for two ways of putting the same chain down. Lowered gently, the scale reads the weight of what is resting on it and nothing else, so the reading climbs along the diagonal to one and stops. Dropped from rest with its lower end just touching, the scale reads three times that at every instant of the fall: one part is the pile's weight and two parts is the force needed to stop the links that are arriving, which is λv² with v² = 2gx and is therefore exactly twice λgx however far the fall has got. The peak, read off the drawn curve, is 3.00 chain weights. It is reached at the instant the last link lands, and the reading then falls discontinuously to one, because the momentum flux stops all at once. The discontinuity is the part a real experiment does not show — a real chain has links of a finite size and a scale has a response time — and it is the reason a chain dropped into a bucket on a kitchen scale reads high and then settles.

The pile that lands heavier than it weighs

Drop a chain onto a scale and the reading is three times the weight of the part that has landed — not approximately, exactly, all the way through the fall. The extra two parts are the force needed to stop links that are still arriving, and the same arithmetic run backwards says that picking a chain up wastes exactly half the energy it takes to get it moving.

The same launches with drag 2.4 times the weight. Five launches at the same speed and at 20, 32, 45, 60, 70 degrees, drawn twice: in vacuum, where the arcs are symmetric parabolas, and with quadratic drag whose force at launch is 2.4 times the projectile's weight. Nothing about the drag figure is a parabola. Each path rises at nearly the vacuum angle, loses horizontal speed that nothing restores, and comes down far more steeply than it went up — the 32° launch leaves at 32° and arrives at 50°. The best of these angles in vacuum is 45° and in air is 32°, and the best range has fallen by 60 per cent. The asymmetry is the whole of the difference: drag removes speed in proportion to speed squared, so it takes most from the fast early part of the flight, and the descent happens at a speed the drag has already limited.

The angle that drag moves

Forty-five degrees is the answer in vacuum and almost nowhere else. Add one velocity-dependent force and the two equations of motion lock together, the closed form disappears, and the best launch angle falls — to thirty-eight degrees for a golf ball's drag and to twenty-nine for a shuttlecock. What moves it is not the loss but the asymmetry.

The potential a shaken pivot creates. The effective potential of a pendulum whose pivot is shaken vertically, against the angle from hanging, for shaking rates of 8, 14, 20, 30 times the pendulum's own frequency at an amplitude of 0.12 of its length. The shaking averages to no force at all — it is up as often as down — and yet it adds a term to the potential, because the pendulum's position is correlated with the phase of the shake rather than independent of it. The added term is proportional to sin²θ, so it is largest sideways and zero at both the hanging and the inverted positions, and it turns the maximum at 180° into a minimum once 14× and 20× and 30× the natural frequency is reached. The criterion is (aΩ)² > 2gL: the shake speed must beat the speed a fall through the pendulum's own length would give. Upside down then becomes a stable equilibrium, with a restoring force and a period of its own.

Held up by a force that averages to nothing

Shake a pendulum's pivot up and down fast enough and the pendulum will stand upside down, balanced, and push back if it is nudged. The shaking supplies no average force at all — it is up as often as it is down — and the reason it nevertheless holds is that the pendulum's position and the phase of the shake are not independent.

The action along a family of paths. On the left, seven paths between the same two events: the true trajectory of a projectile and six deformations of it, each fixed at both ends and differing by one arch of a sine. On the right, the action of each — the time integral of kinetic minus potential energy — against how much it has been deformed. The true path has the least action, 0.45833 in these units, and every neighbour has more. The curve on the right is a parabola about that minimum with curvature 4.935, so the excess action grows as the square of the deformation and its slope at the true path is zero. Nothing here was minimised: the true path was obtained by solving the equation of motion, and every action on the chart including its own is the same quadrature along a stated curve. What the figure establishes is that the two ways of specifying a trajectory — obey a differential equation at every instant, or make one integral over the whole path stationary — pick out the same curve.

Least action, except that it is not least

Mechanics can be stated twice over. Once as a rule about every instant — force equals mass times acceleration — and once as a rule about the whole path at once, which says that one number computed along it is stationary. The two pick out the same trajectory, and the second name for it is wrong — past a certain duration the real path has more action than its neighbours, not less.

Three quantities that do not move while everything else does. On the left, an orbit in an inverse-square attraction, integrated from its equation of motion over 2.4 revolutions at an eccentricity of 0.55. On the right, three quantities computed from that same trajectory at every step and plotted against time: the energy, the angular momentum, and the length of the eccentricity vector that points at periapsis. Every one is flat to better than 1.2e-11 in units where the circular speed at r = 1 is 1, and none of them was constrained to be — the integrator was given the force and nothing else. Each is a symmetry seen sideways. The energy is constant because the force law does not mention the time; the angular momentum is constant because it does not mention the direction; and the eccentricity vector is constant because of a symmetry that is not a motion of space at all, which is why the inverse square closes its orbits and its neighbours do not. What the picture cannot show is the direction of the argument: it demonstrates that these three are constant here, and the theorem says something much stronger, that a constant exists for every continuous symmetry whatever the system.

The conservation law a symmetry hands over

Energy, momentum and angular momentum are usually presented as three separate empirical facts that happen to hold. They are one fact three times: every continuous symmetry of a system's action supplies a quantity that does not change, the correspondence is exact, and it runs both ways.

Four supports, and a whole line of answers. The same top on four supports at the corners of a square, with the load in the same place. Five sets of reactions are drawn and every one of them satisfies all three equilibrium equations exactly — worst residual 1.1e-16 across the whole family — so statics does not prefer any of them. They differ by a multiple of the pattern plus, minus, plus, minus around the square: pressing one diagonal pair harder and the other pair less adds no net force and no moment about either axis, which is exactly what it means for the problem to have a fourth unknown and only three equations. The rigid-body idealisation has not been applied carelessly here; it has been applied correctly, and the answer it gives is that there is no answer. Every member drawn keeps all four reactions positive, so the requirement that a leg can only push narrows the family without closing it. What decides is left out of the model entirely — how much each leg gives under load.

The table statics cannot settle

A rigid top on three legs has one possible set of reactions and a rigid top on four has infinitely many, all of them balancing every force and every moment exactly. The extra leg does not make the problem harder; it makes it unanswerable, and the answer has to come from somewhere the model deliberately threw away.

The set an orbit that never repeats settles onto. 24,000 successive positions of one orbit of the map x' = 1 − 1.4x² + y, y' = 0.3x, after five hundred steps of transient have been discarded. Nearby points separate at e^0.4188 per step, so the orbit is unpredictable in the way the rung below measures; and every one of the 24,000 points lies inside a box 2.558 by 0.767, a diagonal of 2.670, so it is going nowhere. Those two statements are not compatible with a smooth stretching: something has to bring the separated points back, and the bringing back is the visible fold at the left-hand end. The curve is not a curve. Every strand of it is a bundle of strands at any magnification, which is what an area contraction of 0.3 per step leaves behind when the stretching along the other direction is e^0.419. The 24,000 points paint 7,352 distinct marks at the resolution this is drawn at, which is itself a measurement of how little of the plane the set occupies.

The fold that has to be there

Two trajectories that separate exponentially, in a region they can never leave, are being asked to do two incompatible things. The resolution is that the motion is folded back on itself over and over, and the object that survives infinitely many foldings is neither a curve nor a patch of surface — it has a dimension between the two, and the number can be measured two entirely different ways.

Four beads, four heights, one arrival time. One arch of a cycloid of radius 1, drawn with four beads on it at heights 0.061, 0.235, 0.592, 2.000 — a range of 33.0 to one. Each bead's time to slide, from rest and without friction, to the bottom of the arch is computed as a quadrature of ds/v along the curve as drawn, and the four answers are 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s, 1.003205 s: identical to 6.9e-13 of themselves. The closed form for this curve is π√(a/g) = 1.003205 s, which the quadrature reproduces without being told it. A bead let go at the cusp travels 5.7 times as far as the lowest one and arrives with it, because the extra distance is exactly paid for by the extra speed the extra height buys.

The curve that does not ask where it started

A pendulum's period depends on how far it swings, and the dependence is small but never zero. There is exactly one curve for which it is zero, and the reason has nothing to do with pendulums: on that curve the height above the bottom is proportional to the square of the distance travelled along it, which makes the motion harmonic by construction rather than by approximation.

The reaction that reaches zero, and where the bead lets go. The force the sphere pushes back with, in units of the bead's weight, against the angle from the top. It starts at 1.000 and falls, because the speed the bead has gained needs more centripetal force than gravity's component along the radius can supply. At 48.19° it reaches zero, and past that the surface would have to pull inward to keep the bead on it — which a surface cannot do. So the bead leaves there, and the departure angle is a statement about the sign of a constraint force rather than about a speed or a height. The multiplier is what carries that sign: solve the motion in the angle alone and the reaction is absent from every equation, so nothing in the solution knows that the constraint has stopped holding, and the bead is drawn happily circling a sphere it has already left.

The force a coordinate cannot see

Writing a pendulum in terms of its angle is the first good move anybody learns, and it deletes the tension from every equation that follows. The string still breaks. Recovering the force that the clever choice of coordinate threw away turns out to be a computation with a sign in it, and the sign is where the bead leaves the sphere.

The boundary of everywhere a given speed can reach. Trajectories at one speed and five launch angles, with the curve that bounds all of them. The boundary is not one of the trajectories and is not the 45° launch: it is the envelope of the whole family, the locus of points where two neighbouring launches cross. Distances are in units of v²/g, so the greatest range is one and the greatest height a half, and the envelope is the parabola y = ½ − x²/2 joining them. Two things about it are worth having. Its focus is the launch point exactly — every point on it is as far from the gun as from the line y = v²/g — so the safety parabola is a conic with the same focus as the trajectories themselves. And a boundary made of crossings of neighbouring members of a family is a caustic: the same construction that makes the rainbow's edge bright, drawn here with cannon shells instead of light rays.

Everywhere a throw can reach

Fix the speed and let the angle be anything. The trajectories fill a region, and the region has an edge — a curve that is not one of the trajectories, that touches each of them exactly once, and that turns out to be the same kind of object as the bright rim of a rainbow.

The same top, let go four ways. The path traced by the top of the axis, seen from directly above, over 1.2 precession periods. The dashed circle is the tilt the top was released at and the outer circle is 46.8° from the vertical. Released from rest the axis falls, and the fall is what generates the sideways motion: the path comes to a cusp each time it returns to the starting tilt, because at that instant the precession rate is momentarily zero. Launched at exactly the steady rate the path is a circle and the nutation is absent. Launched slower it waves; launched faster it loops: at 0× the steady rate the path comes to cusps, at 0.45× the steady rate the path waves, at 1× the steady rate the path stays a circle, at 1.9× the steady rate the path waves. Every one of these is the same equation with the same top and the same spin.

The top that nods before it settles

A spinning top let go from rest does not begin to precess. It falls, catches itself, and comes back up, over and over, at a frequency that has nothing to do with gravity — and the steady precession every textbook draws is what is left after friction has removed the nod.

5 balls whose contact force goes as the overlap to the three halves, touching. The velocity of every ball in a line of 5, against time in units of one binary contact, with the first arriving at unit speed. Nothing about collisions is assumed: neighbours push on each other with k times their overlap raised to the power 1.5, and the equations of motion are integrated. With the balls touching there is no such separation — several overlaps are non-zero at once and the disturbance crosses the line as a single compression wave. The far ball leaves at 0.989 of the striking speed and the others keep 0.011 between them, which is why a real cradle's balls do not quite come to rest. Momentum and energy are conserved to 4.4e-16 and 4.1e-8, so the difference between the two cases is the contact law and not the bookkeeping.

Five balls, and the law that does not choose

The usual account of a Newton's cradle says that momentum and energy conservation force one ball out at the striking speed. For three balls or more they do no such thing: the two laws leave a whole curve of possible outcomes, and what picks one is the shape of the force between two touching spheres.

How much a wrap holds, against how many turns it is. The ratio of the two tensions a rope can hold across, against the number of turns it is wrapped, for coefficients of 0.1, 0.25, 0.5. The axis is logarithmic because the law is exponential, so each line is straight and its slope is the coefficient. At µ = 0.1 one turn multiplies by 1.9, two turns by 4 and three by 7 — so a person pulling with the strength of one arm holds a load that a small crane would be needed to lift. The practical consequence is the one a sailor states as a rule: turns are cheap and each is worth as much as the one before it, which is a statement about a constant factor rather than a constant force.

The part of the wrap that is actually gripping

The capstan equation gives the largest tension ratio a wrap can hold, and almost nothing spends its life at that limit. Below it the wrap divides in two: an idle arc doing nothing at all and an active arc creeping and carrying the whole exponential — and the division explains a belt's speed loss and its squeal.

The principle that fixes the energy instead of the clock

There are two principles of least action, they compare different sets of paths, and they are not the same statement. One holds the duration fixed and lets the energy vary; the other holds the energy fixed and lets the duration vary — and written that way, mechanics turns into optics with a refractive index.

Every value the orbit of x → r x(1 − x) settles on. The values a long orbit of x → r x(1 − x) visits, one column of the picture for each of 320 settings of r between 2.8 and 4. A single point means the orbit settles to one value, two means it alternates, and each branching doubles the count with the gaps shrinking by a constant factor. The superstable settings marked run 3.23607, 3.49856, 3.55464, located by bisection on the map itself. They accumulate at r = 3.569946, and past it the orbit visits a band of values rather than a list of them. The bands are not noise: the map has no random number in it, and the same initial value gives the same orbit every time.

The map a dripping tap turns out to be

A universal result about one-dimensional maps is worth nothing to a physicist unless a real system is one, and a tap, a convection cell and a driven circuit are continuous systems with no map in sight. What makes them maps is dissipation — and the systems that have none take a different route entirely.

A drive at one frequency, and what comes back at three times it. The Fourier components of the steady motion of an oscillator driven at a single frequency ω = 1.35, for drive strengths of 0.02, 0.05, 0.1. The equation is a harmonic oscillator with a cubic term added, and the components are projected out of the integrated motion rather than assumed. A linear oscillator answers only in the first column. This one answers in the third as well, because x³ of a cosine contains a cosine of three times the angle. The third harmonic grows as the drive to the power 3.00 where the fundamental grows as the power 1.00, so it is negligible at small drive and not at large — which is why nonlinearity in an instrument is a specification rather than a yes or no.

The oscillator that answers at three times the question

Push a spring hard enough that the parabola stops being the whole story, and three things happen that a linear oscillator cannot do: it emits frequencies nobody supplied, its resonance leans over, and its amplitude at one drive frequency depends on where the drive has been.

Force against slip, and the knee between them. The force a tyre delivers against how much faster its tread is going than the road, for a patch 120 mm long under 4000 N with a friction coefficient of 1. The curve is the integral over the bristles, and the dashed line is the cubic the brush model gives in closed form; they agree to 0.00 per cent of the sliding force. The first slope is 80 kN per unit slip, and it belongs entirely to the elasticity of the rubber — at vanishing slip nothing is sliding, so no friction coefficient can appear in it. Full sliding is reached at 15.0 per cent slip and not before. Everything a driver calls grip lives on the rising part of this curve, at a few per cent of slip, where the patch is partly stuck and partly sliding — and the quantity that decides handling in that region is the slope rather than the friction coefficient at the top.

The grip that needs a little slipping

A wheel that transmits any force at all is not rolling. Part of its contact patch is stuck to the road and part is already sliding, and the force it delivers is a measure of how much has given up. The useful part of the curve is a few per cent of slip, the peak is not the end of it, and everything past the peak is unstable.

The energy a spin is allowed, and the only direction it can go. A body with principal moments 1.000, 3.000, 4.000 spinning with a fixed angular momentum. Every possible motion has an energy somewhere in the band drawn here, and the three marks are the three principal-axis spins: energy L²/2I, so the largest moment of inertia gives the smallest energy. The band runs from 0.1250 to 0.5000 in units where the momentum is one — a ratio of 4.0. Anything inside the body that flexes and warms takes energy out and leaves the momentum untouched, so the state can only move leftwards along this band, and there is exactly one place for it to stop. A spin about the axis of least inertia is at the far right: it is a perfectly good solution of the equations of motion, stable against small disturbances in a perfectly rigid body, and it sits at the top of a hill the smallest leak will roll it off.

The axis a leak of energy chooses

A body spinning with nothing pushing on it keeps its angular momentum exactly, and keeps its kinetic energy only while nothing inside it flexes. At fixed momentum the energy is least for a spin about the axis of greatest inertia — so any leak, however small, has a destination. The first American satellite found this out in orbit.

The deflection is a circle, not a bend. Trajectories integrated from Newton's law in a rotating frame with the Coriolis term and nothing else — no pressure gradient, no friction, no force of any kind. 0.5 m/s at 45°, 0.3 m/s at 30°. Each path closes on itself after one inertial period, checked to a millionth of its own radius, and the radius is the speed divided by the Coriolis parameter: 4.85 km, 4.11 km. The deflection usually described as a curving of the path is a complete circle, traversed clockwise in the northern hemisphere in half a pendulum day, and a body left alone in a rotating frame goes nowhere at all.

The deflection that closes on itself

The Coriolis term is usually described as bending a path to the right. Integrated rather than described, it does not bend the path — it closes it. A body left alone in a rotating frame travels a circle of radius U/f and comes back to where it started in half a pendulum day, having gone nowhere at all, and drifting buoys in every ocean draw exactly that.

Pushed one way, travelling another. A parcel released from rest under a steady pressure-gradient acceleration of 2.0e-4 metres per second squared pointing east, integrated for 36 hours at 60°, 30°, 10°. Without rotation it would accelerate east indefinitely. With it, the motion is an inertial circle about a mean velocity at right angles to the push, and the mean over a whole number of inertial periods is measured off each path and matches the geostrophic value a/f to two per cent. At high latitude the loops are tight and the drift is almost purely along the isobars; near the equator the parcel travels a long way down the gradient before the rotation has had time to turn it, which is why geostrophic balance is a high-latitude statement and the tropics need a different set of approximations.

The ratio that decides whether the planet is turning

Whether the rotating terms matter is not a question about size. It is one dimensionless ratio, U over fL, and it runs from ten thousand in a teacup to a millionth in the Earth's core. Where it is small the pressure gradient stops accelerating the fluid and starts balancing a force on fluid already moving across it — so the flow runs along the pressure contours instead of down them, and a weather map is a streamline plot.

Every slope answered by one curve. The boundary of everywhere one throwing speed can reach, drawn about the hand, with straight lines from the hand at −30°, 0°, 20°, 45° running out to it. Distances are in units of v²/g. Because the boundary is a parabola with its focus at the hand, the distance to it along any direction is r = (v²/g)/(1 + sin α), and each drawn length was found separately — by searching every launch angle for the one that lands farthest along that line — and agrees with the formula to ten decimal places. At −30° the greatest reach is 2.000 v²/g, launched at 30.0°; at 0° the greatest reach is 1.000 v²/g, launched at 45.0°; at 20° the greatest reach is 0.745 v²/g, launched at 55.0°; at 45° the greatest reach is 0.586 v²/g, launched at 67.5°. Uphill the reach shrinks and downhill it grows without limit as the line approaches straight down, and the launch that achieves it always bisects the angle between the line and the vertical. The small dots are the foci of those best throws: every trajectory's focus lies on a circle of radius v²/2g about the hand, and the farthest throw along a line is the one whose focus lies on that line.

One curve answers every slope

A throw up a hillside, down one, off a height and into a basket look like four problems with four answers. They are one problem. The edge of everywhere a throw can reach is a parabola with its focus at the hand, and written about that focus it gives the farthest reach in any direction in one line — along with the reason the shot that needs the least effort is the one whose aim matters least.

Range as a map of launch velocities. The plane of launch velocities — horizontal component across, vertical up — with the curves of equal range drawn on it. Launched and landing at one height, the range is 2vₓvᵧ/g, so every curve of equal range is a hyperbola vₓvᵧ = constant, drawn here at ranges of 0.25, 0.50, 0.75, 1.00 v²/g. A thrower who can produce one speed in any direction can reach any point on the half-circle of radius v, and the best throw is where that circle touches the highest hyperbola it meets — at 45°, where the hyperbola vₓvᵧ = ½ is tangent to it, because a circle centred on the origin is symmetric about the diagonal and so is the hyperbola. The famous angle is a property of the shape of the set of throws.

The best throw is a tangency

Shot putters release at about 37°, long jumpers take off at about 20°, a ball thrown forward from a moving truck should be aimed steeply and flies flat, and a golf ball's drag alone moves its best angle to 38°. Each is usually explained as an exception to 45°. None of them is. Drawn as a map over launch velocities, range has curves of equal value, a thrower has a set of throws they can make, and the best throw is always where the set first touches a curve.

Grip, then power, then air. The force a 1500 kg car can put through its driven wheels against road speed, with 100 kW at the wheels and a tyre friction coefficient of 0.9. The grip allows 13.2 kN at any speed; the engine allows its power divided by the speed, a hyperbola; the car gets whichever is smaller, drawn solid. The two are equal at 7.6 m/s, 27 km/h: below it the car is limited by friction and extra power would change nothing, above it by power and better tyres would change nothing. The rising curve is the resistance, rolling plus air, which grows as the square of the speed; it meets the drive at 61.2 m/s, 220 km/h, the top speed, solved for and checked there.

The speed at which grip hands over to power

A car's specification lists its power, and power does not limit how hard a car can push. It limits how hard it can push at a given speed, and at low speed that limit is higher than anything the tyres can transmit. So every car leaves the line as a friction problem and becomes a power problem a second later, at a crossover speed that decides which upgrade would make it faster — and at the top of its speed range a third limit, the cube of the speed, takes over from both.

Long stretches of order, broken without warning. 1800 successive values of the logistic map at r = 3.828427 − 0.00002, a distance of 2.0 × 10⁻⁵ below the setting at which its stable three-cycle is born. The shaded stretches are calm: the orbit repeats itself to within 0.004 every third step, cycling through three values as though the three-cycle already existed. Between them the orbit bursts through the whole interval with no discernible pattern, and then, at an unpredictable moment, is captured into another calm. In a run of 400,000 iterates at this setting the calms last 173 iterates on average, and the channel the orbit creeps through — measured on the map's own third iterate — has a gap of 4.1 × 10⁻⁵ and a longest passage of 253 iterates. Nothing random is added: the sequence is the same every time it is computed from the same start.

The calm that is the ghost of a cycle

Just before a chaotic system settles into a stable cycle it does something stranger than either: it behaves perfectly periodically for long stretches, and then, at moments nothing in the record predicts, bursts into disorder and back. The calm is a cycle that does not exist yet, creeping through the narrow gap where it is about to be born, and how long each calm lasts is set by the square root of the distance to that birth.

The stress a temperature change puts into a bar that cannot move. The stress in a member held between supports that will not let it change length, against how much its temperature changes, for four materials. Each line is EαΔT, computed here from a free expansion and the force needed to undo it, and checked by evaluating it for a bar half a metre long and one thirty-seven metres long: the two agree to every figure carried, because neither the length nor the cross-section appears in the answer. steel develops 2.40 MPa for every kelvin and reaches yield at 104 K; aluminium develops 1.59 MPa for every kelvin and reaches yield at 151 K; concrete develops 0.30 MPa for every kelvin and reaches cracking at 10 K; invar develops 0.17 MPa for every kelvin and reaches yield at 1655 K. Concrete reaches its cracking stress after ten kelvin, which is less than a sunny afternoon, and is why every slab has movement joints in it. Invar is in the comparison because it was made to have a small product: it is as stiff as steel and develops a fourteenth of the stress, which is a statement about the expansion coefficient and nothing else.

The load nobody applied

A redundant structure develops forces with nothing on it. Change its temperature and the same extra constraint that made statics unanswerable also refuses the expansion — and a restrained steel member reaches its yield stress after a hundred and four kelvin, a figure that contains no length, no area and no load.

Four stress states in one beam, and only one of them has no tension. Stress across the depth of a 300 by 600 millimetre concrete section at the middle of an eight-metre span, compression to the right, for four conditions. Under the load alone the bottom fibre is in tension at 11.1 MPa, which is four times what concrete can carry, so an ordinary reinforced beam cracks there and relies on steel to hold the crack together. With 1,500 kilonewtons of prestress 120 millimetres below the centroid and the full load applied, the section runs from 9.8 to 3.6 MPa and every fibre of it is in compression. The second case is the one that surprises: with the prestress applied and nothing whatever to oppose it, the top fibre is in tension at 1.7 MPa, because a force below the centroid bends the beam upwards. A prestressed beam is at its most vulnerable when nothing is on it, and what rescues it is its own weight: adding that alone brings the top back to 0.3 MPa of compression. Each stress block is checked by integrating it and recovering the force and the moment that produced it.

A state no load could reach

The free direction a redundant structure leaves open can be driven on purpose. Tighten a tendon through a concrete beam and its whole stress state moves into the half of the range the material is good at; tighten a bolt hard and the load it carries fluctuates by a fifth of what is applied to it. Both put the structure somewhere no arrangement of external loads could.

The one number the tolerances cannot touch

A redundant structure's load sharing depends on stiffnesses and manufacturing errors that nobody knows. Its collapse load does not depend on either. Once members yield they hold a known force instead of a force proportional to a displacement, the compatibility equations that needed the unknowns drop out, and the load at which the structure becomes a mechanism follows from a work balance with no stiffness in it at all.

The floor does no work and the jumper leaves the ground. A 70-kilogram person pushing off the floor: the floor's force in units of body weight against time, with the centre of mass's height and speed drawn on the same axis, each scaled. The force reaches 2.6 body weights, the contact lasts 260 milliseconds, and the take-off speed that comes out of integrating it is 1.67 metres a second — a jump of 14 centimetres. Integrating the floor's force over the centre of mass's rise gives 247 joules. The work the floor does is zero, because the patch of floor under the foot never moves and work is a force times the displacement of its own point of application. Both numbers are correct and they are answers to different questions: the first is what Newton's second law integrated over the centre of mass gives, and the second is what crosses the boundary between the floor and the person, which is nothing.

The floor that does no work

A jumper leaves the ground with three hundred joules of kinetic energy, supplied by a floor that does exactly zero work — because work is a force times the displacement of its own point of application, and the patch of floor under the foot never moves. Newton's second law integrated over the centre of mass gives the right kinetic energy and is not the work-energy theorem, and telling the two apart is what the first law of thermodynamics is for.

$A wall pulled away fast leaves the energy behind. The energy of a ball bouncing in a box whose wall is moved, against the length of the box, for 3 wall speeds — each a fraction of the ball's own starting speed — with the adiabatic prediction drawn dashed. Every collision is solved for exactly rather than stepped, so nothing here assumes the wall is slow. Moved slowly, the wall takes energy from the ball at the adiabatic rate, and the energy falls as the inverse square of the length. Moved as fast as the ball is moving, it takes almost nothing: the ball cannot catch a wall retreating faster than it travels, so the collisions stop and the energy stops falling. That is the difference between a gas pushing a piston and a gas expanding into a vacuum, and it is drawn here for one particle. At the end of the range the slowest wall leaves the energy at 0.058 of its starting value and the fastest at 1.000, against an adiabatic 0.065.$

The wall that moves while the ball is in flight

Energy is conserved because the rules do not depend on the time. Move the walls of a box and the rules do depend on the time, so what is inside gains or loses without limit — and how much depends entirely on how fast. Moved slowly, a wall takes energy at exactly the rate the adiabatic law says; moved faster than the ball travels, it takes none at all, and the same box is a piston or a vacuum according to a speed.

The action at one instant, drawn as a map. Trajectories leaving one point at the same moment, at launch speeds 0.6, 1 and sixteen directions each, in a uniform field pulling downward, drawn up to time 1. Behind them, dashed, are the level curves of the action at that instant, regarded as a function of where a trajectory ends. They are circles, and their common centre is neither the launch point nor anywhere the particles have reached: it is 0.500 above the launch point, while the whole swarm has fallen by the same 0.500. Every arriving velocity points straight out from that centre, so every trajectory crosses the level curves at right angles, and the arriving momentum equals the gradient of the action to one part in ten thousand. The action integrated along each path agrees with the map's value at its end.

The action that knows where every path ends

The action is usually a number attached to one path. Treat it instead as a function of where the true path ends, and a single function of position and time holds every trajectory at once — its slope is the momentum, its rate of change is the energy, and its level curves are wavefronts, drawn about a point that sits above the source while everything falls.

The launches that go in, and one thrower's scatter over them. Every free throw as a point: launch angle across, launch speed up. The dark curve is the launches that put the ball's centre through the centre of the hoop, lowest at the least-speed launch, 51.4° and 7.17 m/s. The shaded band is every launch that passes cleanly through, found at each angle by moving the speed until the ball touches the rim. It does not exist below 46.9°, is a hair thick near the bottom of the curve, and thickens as the launches steepen. The two ellipses are one thrower who scatters ±0.05 m/s in speed and ±1° in angle, drawn at two standard deviations and centred on two aims: the least-speed launch, and 58.5°, the aim that makes a clean pass most likely for that thrower. At the first, the ellipse lies across a band far thinner than itself; at the second, more of it lies inside, although the band there slopes more steeply.

The throw most likely to go in

A free throw can be launched at 51.4° with less speed than at any other angle, and there a small error of angle hardly moves the ball at all. It is still not the best aim. Once the question is which throw most often goes in rather than which is cheapest, the thrower's scatter has to be laid over the launches that succeed — and for a hoop the answer moves steeper, while for a board the same scatter moves it flatter.

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