Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
Theme

Order out of the random

Enormous numbers of unpredictable particles producing quantities you can print on a dial.
Molecular speeds at 4 temperatures. The distribution of molecular speeds in a gas, with each curve enclosing the same area. Raising the temperature moves the peak right and lowers it: the same molecules, spread over a wider range of speeds. Thermodynamics

The speeds in a still room

The air in a quiet room is not still. Every molecule in it is moving at hundreds of metres per second, and temperature is a single number summarising an entire distribution.

 Ways to arrange 10 coins. The number of distinct arrangements giving each number of heads, for 10 coins. Every individual arrangement is equally likely; the middle wins because there are more ways to reach it. Thermodynamics

Entropy is a count, and the arrow of time is arithmetic

Nothing in mechanics prefers a direction. Entropy is not a force pushing things toward disorder — it is the observation that some outcomes have vastly more ways of happening than others.

 A Carnot cycle on pressure–volume axes. Two isothermal steps joined by two adiabatic ones, forming a closed loop. The gas expands 9.6-fold in reaching the cold reservoir at 0.50 of the hot one, and the area enclosed is the net work done over one cycle. Thermodynamics

The ceiling on every engine, set before it was designed

There is a maximum efficiency no heat engine can exceed, and it depends on nothing but two temperatures. Not the fuel, not the working substance, not the cleverness of the engineer.

 A conductor in a field, with the surface charge solved for. Field lines approaching an isolated conducting cylinder. The surface charge was found by requiring the conductor to be an equipotential, and the lines then end on that charge, meeting the surface at right angles and leaving the interior empty. Electromagnetism

The inside of a conductor, where the field is exactly nothing

Put a metal object in any electric field and the field inside it is zero. Not small — zero, by an argument that takes one sentence, and with consequences that reach from lightning to the most precise test of Coulomb's law ever made.

 Pressure, counted as momentum arriving at a wall. Molecules with speeds drawn from the Maxwell–Boltzmann distribution and directions drawn uniformly in the plane of the figure. Those moving toward the wall will bounce off it, reversing the component perpendicular to it and delivering twice that momentum each — and pressure is nothing but the rate at which that momentum arrives. Because the directions here lie in a plane rather than in space, the perpendicular component carries half the energy rather than the third it carries in a real gas. Thermodynamics

Pressure is a rate of arrival, and the gas law falls out of counting

Nothing in a gas is pushing on the walls. Molecules arrive, bounce, and leave, and pressure is the momentum they deliver per second — from which the ideal gas law follows with no thermodynamics in it at all.

 A spike, spreading. The solution of the diffusion equation at three times, with a seeded random walk histogrammed behind it. The area under every curve is the same because nothing is lost; only the width changes, and it grows as the square root of the time. Thermodynamics

The equation that only runs forwards, and the walk underneath it

A drop of ink spreads and never gathers. The equation describing it is one of the few in physics that is not reversible — and underneath it is nothing but a coin being tossed.

 How much each colour is scattered. Scattering strength against wavelength, as the inverse fourth power, normalised to one at 550 nanometres. Light at 450 nanometres is scattered 4.35 times as strongly as light at 650 nanometres — which is the whole reason the sky is the colour it is. Optics

Why the sky is blue and the sunset is not, from one exponent

Scattering goes as the inverse fourth power of wavelength, and that single number produces a blue sky and a red sun without any second explanation. The two facts look opposite and are the same arithmetic.

 The isothermal atmosphere against the real one. Pressure as a fraction of its sea-level value, against altitude. The curves are the isothermal barometric formula at 220, 288, 400 kelvin, whose scale heights are 6.4, 8.4, 11.7 kilometres. The points are the measured standard atmosphere. At 20 kilometres the 288 kelvin model is 71 per cent out, because the air up there is not at 288 kelvin. Thermodynamics

Why the air thins with height, and why that is the same law as the speeds

The pressure of the atmosphere falls exponentially with altitude, and the distribution of molecular speeds falls exponentially with energy. These are not two results that happen to look alike. They are one statement read on two axes.

 The blackbody spectrum, against what classical physics predicted. Spectral exitance against wavelength for a blackbody at 3000, 4000, 5000 kelvin, in kilowatts per square metre per nanometre. Each curve peaks at the wavelength Wien's displacement law gives — 966 nm at 3000 K, 724 nm at 4000 K, 580 nm at 5000 K — and falls to nothing at short wavelengths. Quantum

The curve that would not come down

Classical physics predicted that a warm object radiates infinite power at short wavelengths. Every step of the derivation was correct, the prediction was absurd, and closing the gap required assuming that energy comes in lumps.

 The interference pattern arriving one particle at a time. The same double slit — 100 micrometres apart, slits 40 micrometres wide, lit at 633 nm, screen 1 metre away — recorded after 20, 200, 1000 arrivals, with the intensity that governs them plotted underneath. Each arrival is a single dot in one place, drawn at a position sampled from that intensity. After 20 there is no pattern to see; after 1000 the fringes are unmistakable, with the dark ones exactly 6.33 millimetres apart — the wavelength times the screen distance over the separation. The bright ones are not evenly spaced, because the single-slit envelope pulls each maximum toward the centre; its first zero is at 15.8 millimetres and is set by the width of one slit alone. Quantum

One arrival at a time, and the pattern still appears

Send particles through a double slit slowly enough that only one is ever in the apparatus, and each arrives as a single dot in one place. Wait, and the dots assemble into fringes that no dot knew about.

 One well, two wells, and the band they become. The energy levels of a chain of identical wells, for 1, 2, 3, 6, 12, 40 of them, with an on-site energy of -4 eV and a coupling of -0.9 eV between neighbours. One well has one level. Two split it into two, 1.80 eV apart. By 40 the levels have filled a band 3.59 eV wide, which is closing on the limit of four times the coupling, 3.60 eV — and no further widening happens however many more wells are added. The count of levels grows with the number of wells; the width of the band does not. Quantum

What happens when the wells get close

Two atoms brought together split one level into two. A thousand split it into a thousand, packed into a band whose width stops growing after the third. Whether that band is full or half full is the whole difference between a wire and a window.

 Decay, and the ensemble it is a property of. 400 nuclei followed for 4 half-lives. The smooth curve is the exponential; the stepped traces are 3 independent runs in which every nucleus was given its own decay time and told nothing about the others. The number surviving halves at each dashed line — 200, 100, 50, 25 — and it halves again over the next interval regardless of how long the sample has already been sitting there, which is the property no ordinary clock has. The traces wander further from the curve as the numbers get small: at the end only about 25 are left and the scatter is a visible fraction of that. Quantum

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.

 The straight line between two plates. A layer of water 10 mm deep with its top plate drawn along at 1 m/s. In the steady state the velocity is a straight line from zero at the fixed surface to the plate's speed at the moving one, and the stress needed to keep it going is μ times that slope: 0.100 Pa. The fluid at each wall is at rest with respect to it, which is an experimental fact rather than a consequence of anything above. Fluids

Momentum going sideways

Viscosity is usually described as friction between layers of fluid, which gets the effect right and the mechanism wrong. What is actually happening is that momentum is being conducted across the flow — by the same equation, with the same solutions, as a drop of ink spreading.

 A path through a crowd. A point crossing a field of 90 scatterers, rebounding off each. The mean length of 4000 such segments is 0.2983 box widths, against the textbook form 1/2nr = 0.3086 — a departure of -3.3 per cent, from a measurement that knows nothing of the formula. It does not agree exactly and should not: the closed form is derived for a vanishingly dilute field and these discs cover 9.2 per cent of the plane. Two finite-density effects pull opposite ways — crowding shortens the path, and discs shadowing one another lengthen it — so which side of the formula a given field lands on is not something the formula can tell. Thermodynamics

How far a molecule gets

A molecule of air travels about sixty-eight nanometres between collisions — some two hundred times its own size, and a ten-millionth of the width of a room. That ratio is the reason a gas can be treated as a continuous substance at all, and the reason it sometimes cannot.

 Seven walks from one point. 7 random walks of 400 steps each, all starting at the same place. None of them goes anywhere in particular and none of them stays put; the typical distance reached after n steps is the square root of n, so quadrupling the time doubles the spread. The tracks are seeded, so this is a property of the figure rather than of any one run. Thermodynamics

The jiggle that proved atoms

A pollen grain in still water never stops moving. For eighty years that was a curiosity with no explanation; then it became the measurement that settled whether matter is made of particles, by turning a microscope and a stopwatch into a count of how many molecules are in a mole.

 The staircase equipartition cannot climb. The heat capacity of hydrogen at constant volume, in units of R, against temperature on a logarithmic axis. The three translational directions contribute 3/2 at every temperature. The two rotations switch on near 85.4 K — the temperature at which kT matches the first rotational step — taking the total to 5/2, computed here by summing the rigid rotor's partition function over two hundred levels rather than by assuming the plateau. The vibration switches on near 6332 K, taking it to 7/2. At 50 K the value is 2.469; at 300 K the value is 2.502; at 5000 K the value is 3.376. Classical equipartition predicts 7/2 at every temperature, including at four kelvin, and the size of the steps is set by ħ — which is how a heat capacity measures a quantum constant. Thermodynamics

Half a kT for every way of moving

A heat capacity ought to be a count. Every quadratic term in a system's energy carries half a kT of it, so warming a gas is a matter of enumerating the ways its molecules can move — and the fact that the count comes out wrong for hydrogen is how a thermometer measured Planck's constant.

 A ratio in the exponent. The Boltzmann factor against the energy of a state measured in units of kT, with the logarithm up the axis so that the straight line is the whole content. Every kT of energy costs a factor of e, so 10, 20, 30 times kT are factors of 10^-4.3, 10^-8.7, 10^-13.0. At 300 K, kT is 25.9 meV, so a barrier of 0.35 eV is 13.5 kT and a factor of 1.3e-6. That is the sense in which a third of an electronvolt is not a small energy: it is small compared with a chemical bond and enormous compared with kT, and it is the second comparison that decides whether anything happens. Thermodynamics

The exponential that decides everything

Maximising the number of ways a reservoir can arrange what is left after taking E out of it gives one factor, e to the minus E over kT. Its exponent is a ratio, which is why a barrier of a third of an electronvolt — nothing at all by chemical standards — is the difference between instantly and never.

 Ways to arrange 12 coins. The number of distinct arrangements giving each number of heads, for 12 coins. Every individual arrangement is equally likely; the middle wins because there are more ways to reach it. Thermodynamics

What a system actually minimises

A ball falls to the bottom of a bowl and a gas fills a room, and neither of those is the rule. A system in contact with a large reservoir minimises U − TS, and the minus sign is the reservoir's own entropy written in the system's variables — which is why a rubber band pulls harder when it is heated.

 The correlation, and the best a shared list of answers can do. The coincidence correlation between two polarisation analysers against the angle between them, over two full turns of the correlation — a polariser turned through 180° is the same polariser, so the picture repeats. The singlet gives −cos 2Δ, drawn through −1.00 at 0°, 1.00 at 90°, −1.00 at 180°, 1.00 at 270°. Beside it is the best correlation any shared list of pre-agreed answers can produce: straight lines between the same four extremes, with corners where the cosine is smooth. The two agree exactly at the multiples of 45° and nowhere else, and they are furthest apart — by 0.2105 — at 19.77° and 70.23°, which is ½ arcsin(2/π) from either end of the quarter turn. The difference is not a matter of degree: it is a curve against a shape with a corner in it, and no list can be bent into the curve. Quantum

The correlation no instructions can produce

A pair of gloves in two boxes agrees perfectly and needs no physics, because the answers were settled at packing. What no packing can imitate is the shape that appears as the two analysers are turned relative to each other, and the shape is a number — 2.828 where every list of pre-agreed answers is stuck at 2.

 The ceiling, inverted. How many joules of heat a perfect machine can move per joule of work, against the outside temperature, with the inside held at 21 °C. The upper curve is heating — T_h/(T_h − T_c), which is what the Carnot argument becomes when the cycle is run backwards — and the lower one is cooling the outside, T_c/(T_h − T_c). They differ by exactly one everywhere, to 1.8e-15 across the whole range as drawn, because the work put in is delivered as heat along with whatever was moved. The dashed line at one is a resistive heater, which is 100% efficient and is the worst option on the figure. At 7 °C and −7 °C the ideal coefficients are 21.0 and 10.5; a real machine reaching 25% of the ideal gets 5.3 and 2.6, which is still several times what burning the same energy would give. Thermodynamics

The engine that pays back more than it takes

Carnot's argument puts a ceiling on how much work a flow of heat can be made to do. Run the same cycle backwards and the ceiling inverts into a floor that is greater than one — so a machine can deliver three or four joules of heat for every joule it consumes, and a perfectly efficient electric heater is the worst way to warm a room.

 The entropy of mixing, and the entropy of not mixing. The entropy gained when two ideal gases at the same temperature and pressure are allowed to mix, per particle and in units of Boltzmann's constant, against the proportion of the mixture that is the first gas. The curve has no property of either gas in it — not their masses, not their sizes, not how strongly they interact, since ideal gases do not — and it is largest at 0.500, where it reaches ln 2 = 0.6931. Below it is the same quantity for two samples of the SAME gas, which is zero at every proportion: removing the partition between two halves of a box of nitrogen changes nothing that can be measured, and putting it back recovers the original state. The two results are correct and they do not join up. Make the two gases more and more alike — two isotopes, then two nuclear spin states, then nothing at all — and the upper curve does not descend to meet the lower one; it stays exactly where it is until the two species become identical, and then jumps. What the figure is really about is that the jump is in the counting and not in the gas. Thermodynamics

Mixing what is already mixed

Let two different gases into each other's halves of a box and the entropy rises by a fixed amount that contains nothing about either gas. Do it with the same gas on both sides and it rises by nothing. Make the gases more and more alike and the answer does not converge — it jumps.

 The viscosity of a gas, over 8 decades of pressure. The viscosity of 3 gases at 300 K against pressure, on a logarithmic pressure axis and a linear viscosity one. The lines are flat, and that is the whole figure. Viscosity is the rate at which momentum is carried across a shear, which is the density of carriers times the distance each one carries it: ⅓ρv̄λ. Doubling the pressure doubles the density and halves the free path, and the two cancel exactly, so the same gas at a hundredth of an atmosphere is exactly as viscous as at one — which is not what anybody expects of a thinner gas and is what is measured. nitrogen comes out at 17.9 μPa·s against a measured 17.9, helium comes out at 19.3 μPa·s against a measured 19.9, argon comes out at 21.7 μPa·s against a measured 22.7. The flatness ends when the free path reaches the apparatus rather than the next layer of gas: at a vessel 10 mm across that is around 0.68 Pa for nitrogen, 1.94 Pa for helium, 0.69 Pa for argon, below which there is no gas-to-gas hand-off left to make. Thermodynamics

The viscosity that does not care how much gas there is

Pump most of the air out of a vessel and the air that is left is exactly as viscous as it was. Maxwell derived that in 1860, did not believe it, and spent six years building an apparatus to measure it — which is a better description of how a prediction becomes knowledge than any amount of agreement would have been.

 How much of copper's electron sea a temperature can reach. The probability that a state of a given energy is occupied, in copper, at 4 temperatures, with energy measured in units of the Fermi energy — 7.04 eV here. At absolute zero the curve is a step: every state below the ceiling is full and every state above it is empty. Raising the temperature rounds the step, and rounds it over a range of about kT, which is the whole point — at room temperature kT is 0.0259 eV against a ceiling of 7.04 eV, so the rounding is 1.6 per cent of the way down the sea and everything deeper is untouched. An electron in the deep is not held there by a force; it simply has nowhere to go, because every state it could be promoted to is occupied. at 0 K the step is spread over 0.00 per cent of E_F, at 300 K the step is spread over 1.61 per cent of E_F, at 3000 K the step is spread over 16.13 per cent of E_F, at 20000 K the step is spread over 107.52 per cent of E_F. Quantum

The pressure that is not a temperature

Copper's conduction electrons are at a temperature of eighty thousand kelvin, in a wire that is at room temperature. That is not a figure of speech, it is what the exclusion principle does to a mole of particles, and it explains the largest unexplained number in the theory of metals.

 Twenty-four decades of lifetime from a factor of two in energy. The half-lives of 7 alpha emitters against the reciprocal square root of the alpha's energy — the Geiger–Nuttall coordinates — with the measured values as points and a one-line tunnelling model as the open ones. The energies span a factor of 2.2 and the half-lives span 24 decades, which is what an exponent does. The model has no fitted parameter in it and reproduces every lifetime to within 0.5 decades — bad arithmetic by any ordinary standard, and a hundred-thousandth of the range it is predicting. Quantum

A wall that a factor of two makes impassable

Polonium-212 lives three tenths of a microsecond. Thorium-232 lives fourteen billion years. The alpha particles they emit differ in energy by a factor of two, and the lifetimes differ by twenty-four decades — because the quantity that decides is not the energy but an exponent built from it, and an exponent is where small differences go to become enormous.

 The average position of something that is only shaking. The mean displacement of an oscillator against temperature, taken as a Boltzmann average over each well rather than from any expansion of it, with the temperature measured against each well's own depth so that unlike bonds can share an axis. A symmetric well gives exactly zero at every temperature — heating a harmonic solid makes it vibrate harder and does not make it larger. The others drift outward, because the outward side is the shallower one, and the measured slopes are a pendulum 0.000, a chemical bond 0.766, a pair of atoms 0.150. Thermal expansion is not a property a spring has; it is one a spring lacks. Thermodynamics

Why heating a perfect spring changes nothing

A harmonic solid vibrates harder when heated and does not get any longer. Thermal expansion lives entirely in the term that the harmonic approximation throws away — and so does the fact that a solid conducts heat at a finite rate, which is the same discarded term doing a second job nobody would have connected to the first.

 Two straight lines that are not the same line. Half the difference between the liquid and vapour densities, in units of the critical density, against the distance from the critical temperature — both logarithmic, over 5 decades. The van der Waals curve is solved for the coexisting pair at each temperature and its slope in the last decade is 0.500, which is the mean-field ½. Real fluids give 0.326. The two differ by 11 per cent at t = 0.1 and by a factor of 7.9 at the bottom of the axis, which is why an equation with the wrong exponent in it looked right for eighty years. Thermodynamics

The point at which the two become one

Heat a sealed tube of carbon dioxide and the meniscus inside it does not boil away — it fades, the two densities converging until there is nothing to separate. Twenty millikelvin before that happens the fluid turns milky, and the exponent describing the last approach is a number van der Waals got wrong and could not have got right.

 The stress that stops growing with depth. Vertical stress against depth in a silo of radius 0.5 m holding grain of bulk density 1500 kg/m³, with a wall friction coefficient of 0.5 and Janssen's ratio K = 0.5. The straight line is what a liquid of the same density would do — ρgz, with no length in it anywhere. The curve is what grains do: wall friction, mobilised by the sideways stress the grains themselves exert, removes weight from the column at a rate proportional to the stress, so the stress saturates at ρgλ over a screening length λ = R/2μK = 1.00 m. Read off the drawn curve at the 8 m base, the stress is 14.7 kPa against the 117.7 kPa the liquid delivers — 88 per cent of the weight is standing on the walls. Another twenty metres of grain would move the floor's reading by less than a pascal. Fluids

The silo that does not weigh what it holds

Pour water into a tall vessel and the pressure at the bottom is the depth times the density times g, whatever the shape above it. Pour grain in and the floor stops learning anything new after the first couple of metres, because the walls have quietly taken the rest — and the length over which they take it contains no property of the grain at all.

 The column a dissolved thing holds up. Two arms of one vessel, joined below by a membrane that passes water and not solute. On the right is 10 mol/m³ of dissolved particles at 25 °C; on the left, pure water. Water crosses into the solution until the extra weight of the right-hand column has raised its pressure by the osmotic pressure — 24.8 kPa, which is 2.53 m of water, drawn here to scale. Nothing is pulling. The solvent is at a lower chemical potential where it is mixed, so it moves that way, and it stops when mechanical pressure has made up the difference. A solute a thousand times more dilute than seawater lifts a column taller than a person. Fluids

The pressure that comes from counting

Dissolve a teaspoon of anything in a litre of water, put a membrane between it and pure water, and the solution will hold up a column of water two and a half metres tall. Nothing is pulling. The pressure does not depend on what was dissolved, only on how many particles it made — which is the ideal gas law, with the solute in place of the gas.

 How fast a spinning electron would have to turn. The equatorial speed of a uniform sphere with the electron's mass and an angular momentum of ħ/2, against the radius it is given, both logarithmically. The expression is 5ħ/4mr and it passes the speed of light at 4.83e-13 m — half a picometre, which is four hundred times larger than a hydrogen nucleus. Giving it a smaller radius only makes the answer worse: at the experimental upper bound, 10⁻¹⁸ m the equator would move at 4.8e+5 times the speed of light; at the classical electron radius the equator would move at 1.7e+2 times the speed of light; at the reduced Compton wavelength the equator would move at 1.3e+0 times the speed of light. No radius the electron is permitted to have gets anywhere near a legal answer, and the experimental bound is off the scale by eight orders of magnitude. So the angular momentum is not the angular momentum of anything going round. It is a property the particle has, in the same way a charge is, and the only thing it shares with a spinning top is the algebra it obeys — which is, admittedly, the whole of what angular momentum means in physics. Quantum

The angular momentum that is not a rotation

An electron has angular momentum, and it is not going round anything. A sphere of its mass carrying that much angular momentum would need its equator moving at half a million times the speed of light at any size the electron is allowed to have. What survives of the analogy is the algebra — and the algebra turns out to require that turning the thing all the way round leaves it changed.

 Angular momentum that was in nothing at all. A ring carrying 10⁻⁶ C on a freely pivoted disc, with a solenoid on the axis threading 0.002 Wb through it, switched off over 1 second. Nothing is turning at the start and nothing has been touched. The collapsing flux drives a circumferential electric field round the ring, the ring is torqued, and the disc ends up spinning with 3.183·10⁻¹⁰ kg m²/s of angular momentum. Where was it? The two curves are the field's share, ε₀∫r × (E × B), and the matter's share integrated from the torque — computed by different routes and summing to a constant to 4.2e-15 of the total throughout. So the angular momentum was there before the switch was thrown, in a static electric field crossed with a static magnetic one, in a room where nothing whatever was moving. It is qΦ/2π, it does not depend on the radius of the ring or the shape of the solenoid, and it is the plainest demonstration available that the field is not a bookkeeping device for forces between distant charges. Electromagnetism

The angular momentum that is in nothing at all

A charged ring and a solenoid, both at rest, with nothing moving anywhere. Switch the solenoid off and the ring starts to turn. Angular momentum is conserved, so it was there before the switch was thrown — and it was not in the matter, because nothing was moving. It was in the field, and it is qΦ over 2π whatever the geometry.

 The work one molecule and one bit are worth. The pressure of a gas of one molecule against its volume, at 300 K, in units of the volume it starts in. The shaded area is the work the molecule does pushing a partition out isothermally, and it is measured here by integrating the drawn curve rather than written down: expanding by 1.5× yields 0.4055 kT against ln 1.5 = 0.4055; expanding by 2× yields 0.6931 kT against ln 2 = 0.6931; expanding by 4× yields 1.3863 kT against ln 4 = 1.3863; expanding by 8× yields 2.0794 kT against ln 8 = 2.0794, agreeing to 2.0e-10. The doubling is the one that matters, because a partition inserted in the middle leaves the molecule on one side or the other, and knowing which is what lets the load be attached to the right face. That single expansion delivers kT·ln2 = 2.87 zeptojoules at 300 K. It looks like work extracted from one temperature, and it is — until the engine is asked to run again, which requires forgetting which side the molecule was on. Thermodynamics

The bit that has to be paid for

One molecule in a box, a partition, and the knowledge of which side it went — enough, between them, to extract work from a single reservoir, which the second law forbids. The engine is real and the arithmetic is right. What closes the loophole is that the cycle does not finish until the knowledge has been thrown away, and throwing away one bit costs exactly what the expansion delivered.

 What a coordinate is worth, by the shape of its energy. The mean energy stored in one coordinate, in units of kT, against the power with which that coordinate enters the energy. The curve is 1/n and the points are the same average obtained by integrating the Boltzmann weight numerically, agreeing to 3.3e-7 per cent at worst. an energy going as |x|^1 holds 1.0000 kT; an energy going as |x|^1.5 holds 0.6667 kT; an energy going as |x|^2 holds 0.5000 kT; an energy going as |x|^3 holds 0.3333 kT; an energy going as |x|^4 holds 0.2500 kT; an energy going as |x|^6 holds 0.1667 kT. The familiar half a kT is the case n = 2 and nothing more general than that: a coordinate whose energy is linear in it — the momentum of an ultrarelativistic particle, or a field with no restoring force but a constant tension — carries a whole kT, and one confined by a very steep wall carries almost nothing. Equipartition is a theorem about quadratic terms, and calling it a theorem about degrees of freedom is the substitution that makes it fail. Thermodynamics

The share that is not half a kT

Equipartition is quoted as half a kT for every degree of freedom, and it is nothing of the kind. It is half a kT for every *quadratic* term. A coordinate whose energy is linear in it carries a whole kT, and a gas hot enough that its particles' energy is pc rather than p²/2m therefore holds twice what the counting says — which drops its ratio of specific heats to four thirds and puts a star on the edge of being able to hold itself up.

 Circulation against how fast the bucket turns. The circulation round the rim of a bucket of radius 1 mm, against the angular velocity it is spun at. An ordinary liquid ends up rotating with the bucket, and its circulation is 2Ω times the area — the straight dashed line, continuous in Ω and with no special value anywhere on it. A superfluid's velocity is the gradient of a phase, so it can carry circulation only in whole units of h/m = 9.969e-8 m²/s. Below 0.256 radians per second it carries none at all: the bucket turns and the liquid does not, which is what Hess and Fairbank measured. Above it the circulation is a staircase of 13 steps, each exactly one quantum high and each 1.59e-2 radians per second wide. The staircase runs below the classical line by the ln(R/a) quanta the threshold costs, a fixed lag: at 102 radians per second the two agree to 0.24 per cent, which is why a rotating superfluid looks like a rotating liquid at any speed a bucket is normally spun at. Fluids

The whirlpool that comes in one size

Spin a bucket of ordinary liquid and it ends up turning with the bucket. Spin a bucket of superfluid helium slowly and it does not turn at all. Spin it faster and it does not turn either — until a threshold, at which a single line of circulation appears, carrying not some amount but exactly h/m. There is nothing in between, because the velocity is the gradient of a phase and a phase has to come back to itself.

 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. Mechanics

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. Mechanics

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. Mechanics

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.

 The fraction of walks that have come home, against how long they have walked. The proportion of 1,600 lattice random walks that have returned to their starting point at least once, against the number of steps taken, on a logarithmic horizontal axis, in one, two and three dimensions. In one dimension almost every walk is home almost at once and the fraction climbs toward one. In two it climbs more slowly — the return is still certain, but only logarithmically, so a two-dimensional walk that has not come back after a thousand steps is unremarkable. In three the curve flattens: it reaches 0.3481 and stops, against the exact value 0.3405, drawn as a line. That number is Watson's integral, and it is the probability that a three-dimensional walk ever comes home at all. The difference between the cases is not one of degree. In one and two dimensions the expected number of returns is infinite and a diffusing particle visits every site eventually; in three it is finite, and a molecule released in a room will, with probability two-thirds, never pass through its starting point again. The same statement runs the other way round: a reaction that needs two diffusing partners to meet is a very different problem on a membrane from what it is in a cell. Thermodynamics

The walk that comes home

A particle wandering at random on a line returns to where it started, with certainty. On a plane it returns, with certainty. In three dimensions the probability is 0.3405 — so two out of three molecules released in a room never pass through their starting point again, and the difference between the cases is not a matter of degree.

 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. Astrophysics

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.

 Four product states, and the four combinations that have a total spin. The four ways two spin-halves can be arranged, on the left, and the four combinations of them that are eigenstates of the total spin, on the right. Two of the products — both up and both down — are already eigenstates. The other two are not: one spin up and the other down does not specify a total spin, because it does not say which spin is which, and the states that do are the sum and the difference. The eigenvalues printed beside them are computed by applying S² as a matrix in the product basis and reading the result off, then solving s(s + 1) for s: |↑↑⟩ gives 2ħ², so s = 1; (|↑↓⟩ + |↓↑⟩)/√2 gives 2ħ², so s = 1; |↓↓⟩ gives 2ħ², so s = 1; (|↑↓⟩ − |↓↑⟩)/√2 gives 0ħ², so s = 0. The column on the far right is the eigenvalue of the operator that swaps the two particles: the three states with s = 1 come back unchanged and the one with s = 0 comes back with a minus sign. That sign is the whole of the difference. It is why the three are called a triplet and the one a singlet, why they behave differently in a magnetic field, and — through the requirement that the total state of two electrons be antisymmetric — why the two families occupy space differently before any force between them has been mentioned. Quantum

Four states, and one of them is odd

Two spin-halves make four states, and they split three and one rather than into four of a kind. Three come back unchanged when the two particles are swapped and one comes back with a minus sign — and that single sign decides how far apart two electrons sit before any force between them has been mentioned, and why hydrogen gas is two gases that do not interconvert.

 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. Astrophysics

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.

 A grain that is not on the object. A speckle pattern, computed as the far field of a circular aperture 421 samples in area filled with random phases — which is what a rough surface does to coherent light, and nothing else. The texture is not a picture of the surface: change the phases and the grains move, but their size and their statistics do not. Five shades are drawn here, from the darkest fifth of the range to the brightest. The measured contrast — the standard deviation of the intensity divided by its mean — is 1.0101, against exactly one for a fully developed speckle, and that is a strong statement: it says the most likely intensity anywhere in this pattern is zero, and that the bright grains are as far above the mean as the dark ones are below. Anybody who has pointed a laser at a wall has seen this and most take it for a property of the wall. It is a property of the light and of the aperture looking at it — including, when the aperture is an eye, of the pupil, which is why the pattern swims when the head moves and why its grain size tells an optometrist about the eye rather than about the wall. Optics

The grain that is in the light

Point a laser at a wall and the wall appears to be covered in a fine boiling texture. Nothing on the wall is that size and nothing about the wall decides it: the grain belongs to the aperture looking at it, the statistics are the same for every rough surface there is, and the most likely brightness anywhere in the pattern is zero.

 The hole that holds exactly one particle. How likely a second particle is to be found a distance away from a first, relative to a gas with no correlation at all, for three cases that differ in nothing but the symmetry of the state under swapping the two labels. There is no interaction anywhere in this calculation: no Coulomb term, no potential, no force. Distinguishable particles give a flat line, which is what no interaction ought to give. Identical fermions dig a hole that reaches exactly zero at zero separation and fills back in over about a wavelength. Identical bosons do the opposite and pile up to twice the density. Integrating the fermion hole gives 0.9992 particles missing from around each one — exactly one, and the sum rule holds at any density, because raising the density narrows the hole in exact proportion. That is what makes the effect worth a name of its own. It is often called an exchange force and it is not a force: nothing carries momentum between the particles, and no term in the energy is proportional to a distance. It is a statement about which states exist. What follows from it is most of chemistry — the reason two atoms with filled shells repel, the reason a metal's electrons cost so much less Coulomb energy than a random arrangement would, and the reason matter takes up room. Quantum

The force with no force in it

Two identical fermions keep apart and two identical bosons crowd together, and neither is being pushed. The Hamiltonian contains no interaction at all: what produces the hole and the pile is which many-particle states exist, and the hole it digs around each electron holds exactly one particle at any density whatever.

 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. Mechanics

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.

 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. Astrophysics

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.

 A stiffness that does not go to zero — it falls off a cliff. The renormalised stiffness of a two-dimensional superfluid against temperature, obtained by integrating the flow of the bare stiffness and the vortex fugacity, with the bare stiffness drawn for comparison. Below the transition the vortices are bound in pairs, screen one another and leave a finite stiffness; above it they unbind and there is none. What is remarkable is the value at which it disappears: 0.6430, against 2/π = 0.6366. That number does not depend on the material, on the bare fugacity, on the core energy, or on anything else — every two-dimensional superfluid loses its stiffness at exactly two over π times its own transition temperature, and measurements on helium films of widely different thicknesses fall on that line. A transition at which a quantity jumps to zero from a value nobody can adjust is unlike anything the usual classification of transitions describes. Thermodynamics

The transition with nothing to order

Every transition in this collection so far has an order parameter — a quantity that is zero on one side and not on the other. In two dimensions a continuous symmetry cannot break at any temperature above zero, so there is nothing for such a quantity to be, and by the usual reckoning there can be no transition. There is one anyway, and what changes at it is whether vortices are bound in pairs.

 The same source measured by amplitude and by intensity. The degree of coherence of a 47 milliarcsecond disc at 550 nm, and its square, against the separation of two apertures. A Michelson interferometer measures the upper curve, because fringe contrast is |γ|. Correlating the intensities at the two apertures instead measures the lower one, because the excess correlation of two thermal beams is |γ|² — the same information about the source, since one curve determines the other, and reaching zero at the same baseline of 2.94 m. What is lost is the phase of γ, which the intensity correlation never sees; what is bought is that a path error of many wavelengths does not matter, because the quantity being correlated is a slow fluctuation of brightness rather than a wave. The half-coherence baselines differ — 1.71 m against 1.25 m — which is the practical statement that the squared curve is the steeper one to measure against. Optics

The correlation that survives what the phase does not

Two telescopes can measure a star's diameter by interfering the light, which requires holding two paths equal to a fraction of a wavelength through an atmosphere that will not hold still. Or they can throw the phase away entirely and correlate the brightness fluctuations, which needs the paths equal to a few metres and works.

 The speed of a wave that carries no pressure. Second-sound speed against temperature, computed from the two-fluid equations with the normal component treated as a phonon gas — which it is below about six-tenths of a kelvin. The upper line is ordinary sound at 238 m/s, which moves the two components together. The lower curve is the other mode, and at low temperature it sits at 137.4 m/s, which is 238/√3 to three figures: a result with no adjustable constant in it, and the reason to believe the two-fluid model rather than merely to use it. What oscillates in this wave is not the density — the two components move in opposite directions and their sum stays put — but the fraction that is normal, which is a temperature. So a temperature disturbance in helium II propagates, with a speed, a reflection and a resonance, where in every ordinary liquid it diffuses and has none of those. Above a kelvin the rotons take over from the phonons and the measured curve falls to about 20 m/s; the model here is the low-temperature one and it is drawn only where it holds. Fluids

The heat that arrives as a wave

Two fluids with two velocities give two wave equations, not one. In the first the components move together and the density oscillates, which is ordinary sound. In the second they move oppositely, the density stays put, and what oscillates is the temperature — so a heat pulse in liquid helium has a speed, a front and a reflection.

 The two holes a grain can fall through, and their exact sizes. Three equal spheres in contact, and four, drawn with the largest sphere that passes between them. The numbers are geometry and nothing else. Three mutually touching spheres put their centres on an equilateral triangle of side 2R, whose circumradius is 2R/√3, so the gap admits a sphere of radius 0.154701R — about a seventh. Four in a square admit 0.414214R, nearly half. A real packing contains both arrangements and everything between, so a grain smaller than the first threshold gets through everywhere, one larger than the second gets through nowhere, and one in between percolates slowly through the loosest routes. That is the whole size-dependence of segregation by percolation, and it is why the effect is reliable below about a seventh and erratic between a seventh and a half. Fluids

The big one comes to the top

Shake a jar of mixed grains and it sorts itself, which is the opposite of what shaking a mixture of gases does. There is no thermodynamic paradox in it because there is no temperature to speak of — and the mechanism is a piece of geometry with an exact number in it: a sphere fits through the gap between three touching spheres only below a radius ratio of 0.1547.

 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. Mechanics

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 magnetisation curve, and the same curve magnified. On the left, the position of a domain wall against the applied field, over the whole of a crystal. It looks like a curve. On the right, a window 2.0% of its width, taken 42% of the way across, at the magnification a sensitive measurement reaches: the wall does not move at all while the field rises, then jumps, then stops again. The largest jump in the window covers 0.67 units of wall position in no field change at all. There is nothing smooth underneath this — the smooth curve on the left is a staircase with 1400 steps in it, drawn small. Electromagnetism

The curve that is really a staircase

A magnetisation curve is drawn as a smooth line and is nothing of the sort. Measured finely enough it is a sequence of jumps of every size, audible as a crackle in a coil, with no typical jump and no smooth motion underneath.

 Runs that break the second law, and how often. The work done in a process repeated many times, and the same for the process run in reverse with its work reflected, for a free-energy change of 4 kT and a dissipation of 3 kT. The average work exceeds the free-energy change, which is the second law, and individual runs do not have to: the shaded tail is the fraction of runs that do less work than the free energy — trajectories in which the entropy of the universe went down — and it is 11.03% here. The two curves cross exactly at the free-energy change, whatever the dissipation, which is what makes an irreversible measurement able to report an equilibrium quantity. Thermodynamics

The second law, with a probability attached

Entropy increases, on average. For a small system pulled quickly, individual runs go the other way — and how often is not a matter of taste but an exact number, fixed by a relation with no adjustable constant in it and no requirement that anything be near equilibrium.

 The pattern the whole sky is written in. The sky as a disc — zenith at the centre, horizon at the rim, equal angles at equal distances — with the sun 30° above the horizon. Each short line is the direction the electric field vibrates in at that point, and its length and darkness are how polarised the light there is. The directions are perpendicular to the plane containing the sun, the observer and the point, which puts them tangent to circles centred on the sun. The heavy arc is the locus 90° from the sun, where the polarisation is strongest — 74 per cent here — and it is a great circle rather than a patch: a band across the sky, not a region near the horizon. This is what a polarising filter on a camera acts on, and it is why turning one darkens a band of sky and leaves the rest almost untouched, and why the effect is strongest when the sun is off to one side and absent when it is behind the photographer. Optics

The pattern the sky is written in

Scattered sunlight is polarised, so the whole sky carries a direction of vibration at every point — arranged in circles about the sun, strongest on the great circle ninety degrees away from it, and vanishing at points that were found by looking before anyone could explain them. Bees navigate by it and a camera filter reads one band of it.

 One temperature, four pawls, and nothing gained. The net rate of a ratchet whose gas and whose pawl are at the same temperature, against the load, for notches 2, 5, 10, 20 times the thermal energy deep. Every curve passes through zero at zero load and is negative everywhere else. The device is not merely unable to lift a weight; under any load at all it turns the wrong way and lets the weight down, converting its potential energy into heat in the gas. Making the notch deeper slows everything down — an exponential in the depth — and does not change the sign anywhere. That is the second law arriving as a mechanism rather than as a prohibition. Nothing was assumed about entropy; the pawl was simply allowed to be as warm as everything else, and its own fluctuations undo exactly the rectification it was there to provide. Any rectifier small enough for thermal noise to matter has this problem, and the rectifier being clever does not help, because the same noise reaches the cleverness. Thermodynamics

The engine a fluctuation cannot run

A ratchet lets a shaft turn one way and not the other. Put a paddle in a gas on the same shaft and molecular collisions appear to become a lifted weight — an engine running on one reservoir. It does not work, and following exactly why turns the second law from a prohibition into a mechanism: the pawl is as warm as the gas, and it lifts whenever it is asked to.

 The energy that goes and comes back. A chain of 32 masses with springs a few per cent nonlinear, started with all its energy in its longest mode, with the energy of the first five modes followed against time in units of that mode's own period. The first mode gives up most of what it has — down to 9 per cent by 104 periods — and the energy appears in the second, third and fourth. Then it comes back: at 154 periods the first mode holds 98 per cent of the total again. Equipartition would put an equal share in every one of the thirty-two modes and leave it there. What happens instead is that a handful of modes trade with each other and return almost exactly to where they began, and go on doing so. The total energy is checked against its starting value throughout and holds to 9.2e-5, so nothing here is the integrator losing track of what it was given. Thermodynamics

The energy that refuses to be shared

Put all the energy of a chain of masses into its longest mode and add a few per cent of nonlinearity, and equipartition says it should spread out among all thirty-two modes and stay there. It does not. It leaks into three or four neighbours and then comes back — almost exactly — and goes on doing so, and the calculation that found this was expected to be a demonstration that it would not happen.

 The pressure a charged gel develops. The swelling pressure against the gel's fixed charge density, for several salt concentrations, on logarithmic axes. Each curve has two straight parts with different slopes, and both limits are checked against the solution rather than read off the plot. Where the fixed charge is small compared with the salt the pressure goes as the square of the charge divided by four times the salt: the bath's ions screen the fixed ones, and doubling the salt halves the pressure. Where the fixed charge dominates, every counterion it demands is an extra particle in the gel and the pressure goes as the charge itself. At 15 mM salt, a gel with 200 mM of fixed charge develops 427 kPa; At 50 mM salt, a gel with 200 mM of fixed charge develops 306 kPa; At 150 mM salt, a gel with 200 mM of fixed charge develops 150 kPa; At 500 mM salt, a gel with 200 mM of fixed charge develops 49 kPa. Cartilage carries a fixed charge of a couple of hundred millimolar from the sulphated sugars on its proteoglycans, sits in a bath of about 150 mM, and develops a swelling pressure of an atmosphere and a half — which is what holds a joint apart and carries the load across it. Fluids

The swelling a membrane cannot stop

Give the thing a membrane holds back an electric charge and the small ions that can cross are no longer free to distribute themselves. Two conditions — neutrality on each side, and equal chemical potential for the salt — fix where every ion goes, and they leave the charged side with more particles than the other. That excess is what holds a joint apart, and it is why a cell has to spend a third of its energy pumping.

 A hundred thousand taps, and still not finished. The packing fraction of a column of grains against the number of taps it has been given, on a logarithmic horizontal scale, for several tap intensities. The grains start where pouring leaves them, around 0.55, and climb towards something near 0.64. At an intensity of 1.2 the packing reaches 0.6318 after a hundred thousand taps; At an intensity of 2 the packing reaches 0.6327 after a hundred thousand taps; At an intensity of 3 the packing reaches 0.6338 after a hundred thousand taps, which is still 0.0097 short of the asymptote. The shape is what matters. On a logarithmic axis the curve is close to a straight line over four decades, which means the packing improves by about the same amount for each factor of ten in the number of taps — not for each additional thousand. Going from a hundred taps to a thousand buys as much as going from a thousand to ten thousand. An exponential relaxation is over after a few time constants and this is not one. There is no number of taps after which the column is packed; there is only a number after which the next improvement is too small to measure. Fluids

The pile that is never finished settling

Tap a jar of grains and it settles. Keep tapping and it goes on settling — logarithmically, so that each factor of ten in the number of taps buys the same small improvement as the last. There is no number of taps after which the column is packed; there is only a number after which the next improvement is too small to measure, and the asymptote everyone quotes is a fitted number rather than a measured one.

 A reflection that keeps the angle to gravity and not to the wall. An internal wave beam of frequency 0.5N reflecting from a slope of 12°, with the wavelength ratio for slopes of 12°, 20°, 28° computed beside it. The frequency fixes the angle the energy makes with the horizontal — 30.0° here — because the restoring force is gravity and gravity is vertical, so the reflected beam must leave at that same angle whatever the wall is doing. Incident and reflected rays are therefore not mirror images, and the wavelength changes on reflection by sin(θ+α)/sin(θ−α). A flat floor gives one, checked exactly. A slope approaching the ray's own angle gives infinity, checked as the limit, and that is where a basin's internal tide is compressed until it breaks. Fluids

The reflection that changes the wavelength

An internal wave's frequency fixes the angle its energy makes with gravity, so a sloping wall cannot send it back the way a mirror would. The reflected beam leaves at the same angle to the vertical rather than the same angle to the wall, its wavelength changes by a factor that diverges when the slope matches the ray, and in a closed basin the changes accumulate until every ray in the fluid lies on one line.

 A line is what two bodies give. The electron energy spectrum of tritium, against the vertical line a two-body decay would produce. A nucleus emitting one particle has no choice about how to share the energy: momentum conservation fixes it, and every electron comes out at the same energy. The observed spectrum is a continuum running from zero to the full available energy, with a mean at 0.31 of the endpoint. The shape is a count of the ways the energy can be divided between an electron and something else, and the something else was proposed for no other reason than that the shape requires one. Quantum

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.

 Everything in the chain decaying at the parent's rate. The activity of each member of ²³⁸U → ²³⁴Th → ²³⁴Pa, relative to the parent's, against time in days. The parent's half-life is far the longest, so its activity is effectively constant over the range drawn while each daughter rises to meet it. Once they have, every member of the chain is decaying at exactly the same rate — secular equilibrium, checked here to one per cent off the integrated solution — because each is being made as fast as it is disappearing. The amounts are not equal at all: the abundance of each member sits in the ratio of its half-life to the parent's, which for radium in uranium is one part in three million and is why radium had to be extracted from tonnes of ore. Quantum

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.

 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. Astrophysics

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. Astrophysics

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.

 A delay that grows as the square root of the length. The differential group delay between the fastest and slowest polarisation states of a fibre built from sections 100 m long, each a slightly birefringent waveplate with its axis at a random angle, against length up to 400 km. Three individual fibres are drawn faint, and the root-mean-square delay over 300 of them heavy. The ensemble grows as a power 0.50 of the length — the square root, because each section rotates the polarisation it receives before adding its own delay, so the delays add like the steps of a random walk in three dimensions rather than like lengths laid end to end. At 100 km the mean delay is 5.18 ps against 5.00 ps for a coefficient of 0.5 ps/√km. Had the axes all been aligned, the same sections would have added to 172 ps at that length, growing in proportion, and the drawn dashed line leaves the frame within a few kilometres. The randomness is what keeps the delay small, and it is also what makes it impossible to compensate with a fixed device. Optics

The delay that is a random variable

A fibre's core is very slightly elliptical, so its two polarisations travel at very slightly different speeds — and the ellipse turns, at random, every hundred metres or so. The delays of the pieces do not add. They random-walk, so the total grows as the square root of the length, follows the same distribution as the speeds of gas molecules, differs from one wavelength to the next, and on any particular day may be three times its average.

 Most of a chain's counterions never leave it. The fraction of a charged rod's counterions lying within a distance r of it, against r in rod radii on a logarithmic axis, for a charge parameter ξ = 4.2 — the Bjerrum length of water, 0.7135 nm, over a charge spacing of 0.17 nm, which is DNA's. Each curve is the Poisson–Boltzmann solution for the rod at the centre of a cell of radius 10², 10⁴, 10⁶ rod radii, with its counterions checked to neutralise it exactly. Diluting the solution widens the cell by four decades at a time, and a counterion free to go anywhere in the cell ought to spread with it; instead each curve keeps a plateau near the rod whose height does not change. At the inflection of every curve the enclosed fraction is 0.762, which is Manning's 1 − 1/ξ, and the plateau sits there: 76 per cent of the counterions stay bound to the chain however dilute the solution, and only 24 per cent spread through it. Fluids

The counterions that never leave the chain

Dilute a solution of DNA a million times and its counterions ought to scatter through the whole volume. Three quarters of them do not. A line of charges closer together than the Bjerrum length — 0.71 nm in water — holds on to its counterions however much room they are given, until the chain's charge is cut back to one per Bjerrum length, and every osmotic pressure, swelling gel and packed virus built from such chains is set by that length rather than by the chemistry.

 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. Mechanics

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.

 Light that walks through a cloud. Seven photons entering a slab 8 scattering mean free paths thick from above, straight down, and followed until they leave, with every scattering equally likely to send them in any direction; their paths are projected onto the page. Of 20000 photons followed the same way, 82.5 per cent come back out of the top and 17.5 per cent out of the bottom. Diffusion theory predicts 18.2 per cent through the bottom. Only 10 photons cross without scattering at all, where e⁻⁸ predicts 6.7 — within the counting error of so few: nearly all of what is transmitted has walked, and the direction it arrived from is forgotten on the way. Optics

The cloud light has to walk through

A beam crossing thirty scattering lengths of anything should keep e⁻³⁰ of itself — a ten-millionth of a millionth. A cloud thirty scattering lengths thick lets through nearly a third of the sunlight falling on it. The light has not crossed; it has walked, one scattering at a time, and a walk through a slab obeys a law with the shape of Ohm's rather than of an exponential.

 Every reaction's free energy has its lowest point inside. An ideal reaction A ⇌ B at 298 K. Across: how far it has gone, from pure A towards pure B. Up: the Gibbs energy of the mixture per mole, relative to pure A. Left, for standard reaction Gibbs energies ΔG° of −4, 0, +4 kJ/mol: the dashed straight lines are what the energy would be if A and B did not mix, and the solid curves add the entropy of mixing them. For ΔG° = −4 kJ/mol the lowest point is at 83.4 per cent B; for ΔG° = 0 kJ/mol the lowest point is at 50.0 per cent B; for ΔG° = +4 kJ/mol the lowest point is at 16.6 per cent B. Right, magnified near pure A, a reaction with ΔG° = +10 kJ/mol, whose straight line climbs from the start and which looks as if it should not proceed at all: its curve first falls, to a minimum of −43 J/mol at 1.74 per cent B, because the mixing term falls infinitely steeply away from a pure end. Each minimum was found by search and sits where the ratio of B to A equals exp(−ΔG°/RT). Thermodynamics

The reaction that cannot go all the way

Chemistry speaks of reactions that go to completion and reactions that do not happen, and at equilibrium there are neither. The reason is a logarithm. The free energy of a half-finished reaction contains the entropy of mixing, whose slope is infinite at both pure ends, so every reaction's lowest point lies strictly inside — and the slope of that free energy, the chemical potential, is to particles what temperature is to heat.

 The light of a diode at room temperature is as bright as a surface thousands of kelvin hot. How many photons occupy each mode of the light, on a logarithmic scale, against photon energy. The lowest curve is the thermal glow of a 1.42 eV semiconductor at 300 K with no voltage across it. The solid curve above it is the same device with 1.3 V across it, emitting only above its gap. The dashed curve is a blackbody at 2571 K, the temperature whose light has the same occupation as the diode's at 1.472 eV, just above the gap. They cross there and nowhere else: the diode's occupation falls a factor e every 25.9 meV, as its lattice's temperature requires, and the blackbody's every 222 meV. No single temperature describes the diode's light. At each photon energy it has a brightness temperature, and that temperature is 300 K multiplied by ε/(ε − qV). Thermodynamics

The glow that carries a voltage

Thermal radiation has no chemical potential, because walls make and destroy photons freely. A light-emitting diode is a body that glows at room temperature with a voltage written into its light — Planck's law with the voltage as the photons' chemical potential — which is why its light can be as bright as a surface thousands of kelvin hot, why at low voltage it can put out more light than the power it draws and cool itself doing so, and why a reverse voltage makes a surface look colder than it is.

 With interference kept, transmission falls exponentially; without it, only as one over the thickness. Light through stacks of randomly thick transparent layers, alternating indices 1 and 2.6, with thicknesses scattered by ±50 per cent about a quarter wave, on a logarithmic scale against the number of layers. The falling line is the transmission with the waves' interference kept, computed exactly by multiplying transfer matrices and averaged as the logarithm over 40 random stacks and five wavelengths. It falls in a straight line: the transmission drops by a factor of e every 17 layers, however thick the stack, which is exponential decay — localisation. The upper curve is the same stacks with every surface's reflection and transmission added as intensities, so that no interference survives. It falls only as one over the thickness, checked to grow in exact proportion, which is the diffusion of light through a cloud: at 400 layers it still transmits 1.0 per cent where the coherent stack typically transmits 4.5·10⁻¹¹. Optics

The walk that interference can stop

Light scattered many times walks through a cloud, and a walk always gets through eventually — a slab twice as thick lets through half as much. Keep the waves' interference instead of adding intensities, and in one dimension the same disorder does something a walk cannot: it stops the light exponentially, traps it in modes with nothing special about where they sit, and turns transmission from a number into a spread over powers of ten. Whether the same can happen to light in three dimensions has been claimed, retracted and argued for thirty years.

 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. Astrophysics

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.

 Mean field always pushes; correlations pull. The pressure between two planes of equal charge with only their own counterions between them, against their separation, in units of the Gouy–Chapman length μ for the separation and 2πℓ_Bσ²kT for the pressure. The upper curve is the Poisson–Boltzmann result, solved from k·tan(kd/2) = 1: it is the density of counterions at the midplane and is positive at every separation, falling from the ideal-gas 2/d at contact to π²/d² far apart — 1.71 at 1μ, 0.290 at 4μ. The lower curve is the strong-coupling limit, 2/d − 1, which the same ions reach when their valence and the surface charge are high. It crosses zero at d = 2μ and is negative beyond, tending to −1: the two like-charged planes attract, and the separation 2μ is where they come to rest. Fluids

The like charges that pull together

Two surfaces carrying the same charge, with nothing between them but the ions that neutralise them, ought to repel, and the standard mean-field theory proves that they always do. With calcium or spermine as the counterions they attract, and come to rest a fraction of a nanometre apart. The mean field misses it because it averages the ions into a smooth cloud, and multivalent ions are too strongly repelled by each other to form one. Each keeps a patch of surface to itself, and the pressure between the plates becomes a single ion's business.

All themes