Decay — the series
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A nucleus with no clock
A half-life is a precise number and no individual nucleus has one. Each has the same chance of decaying in the next second as it had on the day it formed, and the exponential curve is a property of the population rather than of any member of it.
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The exponential that is only true in the middle
A decay law is not an assumption about nuclei; it is the Fourier transform of an energy distribution. Do that transform honestly and the exponential fails at both ends — flat at the start, because the state is normalisable, and an inverse square at the end, because no system has states of arbitrarily negative energy. Neither departure is a correction that could be made small.
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The energy that did not all arrive
A nucleus emitting one particle has no choice about the energy it comes out with — momentum conservation fixes it, and the spectrum is a line. Beta decay gives a continuum instead, from zero to the full available energy, and the shape of that continuum is a count of the ways the energy can be shared. Counting it required a third body nobody had seen, and the way the count approaches its endpoint is still the best place to weigh one.
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The chain that runs at its slowest member's rate
Put decays in series and something happens that no single decay does. The population settles where every member is being made exactly as fast as it disappears, so every activity in the chain is equal — while the amounts differ by twelve orders of magnitude, in the ratio of the half-lives. A gram of uranium contains a third of a microgram of radium and two hundred million million million atoms fewer of radon, and both numbers are read off a list of half-lives.
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The half-life that chemistry can change
A nucleus has no clock, the usual account goes, and nothing outside it touches the rate. That is very nearly true and it is not exactly true. Electron capture takes an electron from the nucleus's own position, so its rate is proportional to how many electrons are there — which is chemistry, worth a per cent. And a nucleus stripped of every electron can gain a decay channel it did not have: rhenium-187 goes from forty-two billion years to thirty-three.
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The spin a photon has to carry away
An excited nucleus sheds its energy as a gamma ray in a millionth of a millionth of a nanosecond — or in minutes, or centuries, or never within the age of the universe. The energy available hardly matters. What matters is how much angular momentum the photon must carry off, because a source much smaller than its wavelength is very bad at launching a wave that twists, and each extra unit of twist costs a factor of tens of thousands in time. Selection rules are usually stated as what cannot happen; they are really a price list, and it spans forty decades.
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The clock read by counting atoms
Radiocarbon dating reads a clock that ticks slowly: a gram of living carbon holds sixty thousand million carbon-14 atoms, and only thirteen and a half of them decay each minute. Counting those decays to date a milligram of bone would take years. Counting the atoms themselves, one by one in an accelerator, takes an hour, because in any measurement shorter than the clock's mean life almost every atom is still there, undecayed and countable. And the method's famous limit of about fifty thousand years turns out not to be set by the half-life at all. It is set by how much modern carbon a sample has picked up, because a trace of contamination outweighs whatever carbon-14 a very old sample has left.
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The lifetime that depends on where the mirror is
A half-life is treated as the most private fact about an atom or a nucleus, and for a nucleus that is nearly true. An excited atom beside a mirror decays faster or slower depending on how many half-wavelengths away the mirror stands, and between two mirrors closer than half a wavelength it does not emit at all. The atom has not changed. A decay is a transition to a state with a photon in it, and the room decides whether that state exists.