Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
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The shape decides — part 2 of 3

A number that looks as though it should depend on the forces involved and turns out to depend only on the arrangement — a falloff exponent, a capacitance, a moment of inertia, the angle a rainbow has to be.
The arrow the orbit cannot turn. A Kepler orbit of eccentricity 0.6, integrated for two revolutions, with the Laplace–Runge– Lenz vector constructed from the position and velocity at five points along it. Every one of the five is the same arrow: its length varies by 3.7e-11 over the whole run and its direction by 2.1e-10 radians. It points at the perihelion and its length is 0.600000, which is the orbit's eccentricity measured independently from the closest and furthest radii as 0.600000. Energy and angular momentum fix the size and shape of an orbit and say nothing about which way it points; this vector is the missing statement, and only an inverse square has one. Astrophysics

The arrow that says which way the orbit points

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

 The bowl a lens actually focuses onto. Where a lens of 50 mm focal length brings each part of a flat scene to a focus, against distance from the centre of the field, out to 21.6 mm — the corner of a 35 mm frame. The surface of best focus is a sphere of radius 76 mm curving towards the lens, and the corner of the frame sits 3.13 mm in front of the plane the centre is focused on. The shaded band is the depth of focus at f/8, which is 0.070 mm — 45 times smaller than the sag it has to cover. The curvature is not an error in the lens. It is what Σ1/nf comes to for this stack, and it depends on the powers and the glasses and on nothing else: bending the surfaces, moving the stop or stopping down changes every other aberration and leaves this one exactly where it was. Optics

The flat scene that comes back curved

A lens does not image a plane onto a plane. It images it onto a bowl, and the curvature of that bowl is fixed by the powers and the glasses alone — not by the shapes of the surfaces, not by where the stop is, and not by stopping down. Everything a designer usually plays with leaves it exactly where it was.

 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.

 The one number the boost leaves alone. The mass of a lambda into a proton and a pion, reconstructed from the two products' laboratory energies and momenta alone, against how fast the parent was moving — for five different rest-frame emission angles. Every curve is the same horizontal line. The lab energies vary by more than a factor of ten across this range and the angles between the products vary from almost 180° to a few degrees; the combination E² − p² of the pair does not vary at all, to 3.2e-15, which the figure requires before drawing anything. The light curves are the energies of the two products, on the same axis and to a different scale, drawn to show how much is moving while the invariant does not. This is the whole method of particle physics. A parent that lives for 10⁻²³ seconds is never detected; what is detected is two tracks, and their invariant mass is computed and histogrammed over millions of events. A parent that exists shows up as a peak at its own mass, at the same place whatever the beam energy, which is what makes the peak believable. Relativity

The cone a decay cannot leave

A particle at rest breaks into two and they go opposite ways. Set the parent moving and the whole pattern folds forward — into a cone with a hard edge, beyond which nothing is emitted at any rest-frame angle at all. The energy spectrum that comes out is exactly rectangular, and the one number the boost leaves alone is how the parent is identified at all.

 One boost, three constants, three pictures. The axes of a frame moving at 0.5 in units where the constant is one, drawn for the three signs the constant can have. The faint cross is the original frame's axes; the two heavy lines are the moving frame's, obtained by boosting them rather than by tilting them by hand. With a positive constant the two axes close in on one another symmetrically, and the line they are closing on is the invariant speed. With a zero constant only the time axis tilts and the space axis stays where it was, which is absolute simultaneity — every frame agrees which events are at the same time. With a negative constant the pair rotates rigidly, like a pair of axes turned in a plane. Nothing about light has been used to draw any of them. The three are the whole of what homogeneity, isotropy, the group property and the relativity principle permit, and choosing between them is a measurement rather than a postulate. Relativity

The transformation that never mentions light

Assume space and time are homogeneous, that space is isotropic, that two changes of frame compose into a third, and that the relativity principle holds. Those four leave exactly one free constant — and three possible worlds, one of them Galileo's and one of them Einstein's. Light appears nowhere in the derivation; it enters only when the constant has to be measured.

 The colours a draining film runs through, and the end of them. The fraction of light a free soap film reflects, against its thickness, at three wavelengths — 450, 550, 620 nm — computed from the sum over multiple reflections rather than from the two-beam approximation. The three curves peak at different thicknesses, which is why a draining film runs through a sequence of colours as it thins. Below about 11 nm every curve is under a tenth of a per cent and the film looks black. At zero thickness the reflectance is exactly zero, checked before the figure is drawn: the two surfaces reflect equally and half a cycle out of step, so a film much thinner than a wavelength cancels itself. That is the whole of why a black film is black. Nothing is absorbing; the film is there and has simply stopped being able to interfere constructively at any visible wavelength — which means the blackness is a measurement, and a film that has gone black is known to be thinner than about a tenth of a wavelength without anything being measured directly. Fluids

The film that goes black before it bursts

A soap film drains, runs through every interference colour, and then stops reflecting anything at all. The black patch is not a hole and not a film about to break: it is the thinnest and most stable state the arrangement has, held apart by a pressure between its two surfaces that only exists at distances of nanometres.

 The pattern that stands still while the air goes through it. Streamlines of a steady 20 metre-per-second wind over a bell-shaped ridge 800 metres high and 6.0 kilometres wide, in air whose buoyancy frequency is 1.05e-2 per second. Nothing in the picture is moving: the air crosses it from left to right at 20 metres a second and the waves stay where they are, because standing still is what selects them. The vertical wavelength is 2πU/N = 11.9 kilometres, and the crests lean upstream as they rise — checked here by finding the maximum displacement a quarter of a wavelength up, which sits well upstream of the ridge. That tilt is the signature of energy travelling upward, and it is the feature every hand-drawn version of this picture gets backwards. Cloud forms at the crest of each wave where the air is highest and coldest, which is why the lens-shaped clouds sit stationary in a moving airstream. Fluids

The wave that is required to stand still

A stratified fluid supports internal waves at every wavelength there is. Put a steady wind over a ridge and the requirement that the pattern stay put picks exactly one of them — 2πU/N, and nothing about the mountain appears in it. The clouds that mark the crests sit still while the air goes through them at twenty metres a second, and the momentum the wave carries away is delivered thirty kilometres up.

 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. Mechanics

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. Mechanics

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.

 The gravity that grows on the way down. The acceleration due to gravity inside the Earth against distance from the centre, from Gauss's law applied to the Preliminary Reference Earth Model's density: g(r) = G M(r)/r², counting only the mass inside each radius. The model reproduces the Earth's mass to 0.02 per cent, a surface gravity of 9.82 m/s² and a moment-of-inertia factor of 0.3308, none of which it was fitted to. For a uniform Earth, drawn dashed, gravity would fall in a straight line to zero at the centre. The real one does the opposite for the first 2891 km: it rises through the whole mantle to 10.69 m/s² at the core–mantle boundary, 8.8 per cent above its surface value, and only then falls to zero through the core. Going down through the mantle removes very little mass and brings the dense core much closer, and the second effect wins. Electromagnetism

The pull that grows on the way down

Inside a uniform ball, gravity falls in a straight line from the surface to nothing at the centre, and that is the answer usually given for the Earth. It is wrong for almost three thousand kilometres. Going down through the mantle, gravity rises, reaching nearly nine per cent above its surface value where the core begins — because Gauss's law counts only the mass inside, and the local form of the law says gravity grows inward wherever the rock is lighter than two thirds of the average beneath it.

 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. Mechanics

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.

 A map that keeps every cone and bends every worldline. Left: a grid of inertial worldlines, drawn solid, lines of simultaneity, faint, and light lines at 45°, dashed, in one space dimension. Right: the same grid after a map that stretches the light-cone coordinates u = t − x and v = t + x by two different increasing functions, u + 0.45·tanh(1.5u) and sinh(0.45v)/0.45. Light lines go to light lines, still at 45° to within a part in a billion, and the causal order of every one of 4000 sampled pairs of events is unchanged: whatever could influence what still can, and nothing new can. But the straight worldlines are bent — the one through x = 1 by 0.19 across the window — and the lines of simultaneity are no longer straight. In one space dimension the light cones cannot tell this picture from the inertial one. Relativity

What the light cones alone can decide

Keep nothing of spacetime but its light cones — which events could influence which — and ask how much geometry survives. With one dimension of space, almost none: any pair of increasing stretches of the two families of light lines preserves every cone and bends every straight worldline. With two or more, almost all of it: the only maps that keep every cone are Lorentz transformations, shifts and a uniform stretch, and nothing about straightness has to be assumed.

 All of flat spacetime in a diamond. The whole of flat spacetime with one space dimension, squeezed into a finite diamond by applying arctan separately to the two light-cone coordinates u = t − x and v = t + x. Solid curves are the worldlines of observers at rest at x = −3, −2, −1, 0, 1, 2, 3; faint curves are the instants t equal to the same values; the dashed lines are the two light rays through the origin, still at 45°, as every light line is — checked to a part in a billion — and the causal order of 4000 sampled pairs is unchanged. Infinity is not one place. Every worldline at rest runs from the bottom corner i⁻ to the top corner i⁺; every instant runs between the side corners i⁰; and light rays begin on the lower edges ℐ⁻ and end on the upper edges ℐ⁺. Each of these limits is checked at ten million units out. Relativity

The five places infinity turns out to be

Flat spacetime goes on for ever in every direction, and it can still be drawn whole on a page. Squeeze each family of light rays with a function that keeps their order and the infinite plane becomes a diamond with every light cone still at 45°. The price is distance, which the picture no longer shows. What it shows instead is that infinity is not one place: observers slower than light all end at a single point, instants end at another, and light ends along a whole edge of its own.

 A gap that every angle from air falls into. The stop bands of a stack of quarter-wave layers of index 4.6 and 1.6 — tellurium and polystyrene, the pair of the first such mirror — against frequency, in units of the design frequency, and the parallel index β = n₀ sin θ₀ the light brings along the layers; TE polarisation on the right, TM on the left. Shaded regions are gaps. Light from air can only have β between −1 and 1, the vertical lines; within those lines the gaps for both polarisations overlap between f = 0.848 and 1.321, the band marked across the figure, so every angle of incidence and both polarisations are reflected: a relative width of 43.6%. The TM gap narrows as β grows and closes at the internal Brewster index, 1.51, which light from air cannot reach. Waves

The mirror that works from every direction

A stack of alternating transparent layers reflects nearly all the light of one colour arriving straight on, and less as the light tilts, because tilting moves the forbidden band. A structure that repeats in only one direction ought therefore to be a mirror for only a range of directions. It is not, if the layers differ enough: light arriving from air cannot bring enough sideways momentum to escape the forbidden band at any angle, for either polarisation, and a flat stack of plastic and tellurium reflects every angle over a band of frequencies almost half as wide as its centre.

 Above a half, the chains stop letting go. The extensional viscosity of a dilute polymer solution, as a multiple of its zero-shear viscosity, against the accumulated stretch (Hencky strain, the stretch rate times the time), on a logarithmic axis, for stretch rates whose product with the relaxation time is 0.1, 0.4, 0.6, 1. The polymer carries 90 per cent of the viscosity. Dashed curves are the Oldroyd-B dumbbell, integrated from its conformation equation and matching its closed form; solid curves are the same chains with a finite length, FENE-P with L² = 400. At 0.1 the Oldroyd-B viscosity reaches 3.37 and the finite chain 3.37 by a strain of 6; at 0.4 the Oldroyd-B viscosity reaches 9.49 and the finite chain 9.25 by a strain of 6; at 0.6 the Oldroyd-B viscosity reaches 58 and the finite chain 49 by a strain of 6; at 1 the Oldroyd-B viscosity reaches 725 and the finite chain 329 by a strain of 6. Below one half the viscosity settles at a few times the shear value. Above it the Oldroyd-B chain stretches without limit and its resistance grows exponentially, while the finite chain grows until it is nearly fully extended and then stops, hundreds of times higher than it began. Fluids

The stretch a chain cannot outrun

A Newtonian liquid pulled into a thread resists exactly three times as hard as it resists being sheared, whatever it is made of. A polymer solution resists three times as hard only until the stretch rate passes one over twice its relaxation time. Past that, its chains can no longer recoil as fast as they are pulled apart, and the same liquid that is barely thicker than water in a stirred beaker becomes hundreds of times stiffer in a thread.

 Resonances drawn as bands. 60,000 decays of a D⁰ decaying to K⁻π⁺π⁰, accepted from 1,287,365 flat ones in proportion to the square of an amplitude built from 3 short-lived intermediate states, each decaying to two of the three products. A ρ⁺(770) in m²(π⁺π⁰), 67.0 per cent of the rate on its own; a K⁻(892) in m²(K⁻π⁰), 25.5 per cent of the rate on its own; a K⁰(892) in m²(K⁻π⁺), 33.2 per cent of the rate on its own. Each appears as a band at its own mass squared — vertical, horizontal or diagonal according to which pair it decays to — holding 51 per cent, 19 per cent, 23 per cent of the decays within one width of its mass, where phase space alone would put 34, 10, 9. The separate fractions add to 126 per cent, not 100, because the amplitudes interfere where the bands overlap. The magnitudes and phases are a model chosen to make all three visible, not a fit to data. Relativity

The plane in which three bodies are flat

A particle breaking into two gives each product a fixed energy; one breaking into three gives none of them one. What it gives instead is a plane of two invariant masses in which a decay with no forces spreads perfectly evenly inside a curved boundary — so every band, dark stripe and bright crossing a real decay draws there is a force, its spin, or a phase between two routes to the same three particles.

 One width that falls to nothing. The decay rates of the two modes of a pair of resonances that leak into one shared channel at rates 0.1 and 0.05 and are coupled to each other with strength 0.2, against the detuning of the first from the second. The two rates always add to 0.15, the trace of the leak matrix, to 10⁻¹². Where the resonances are far apart each mode keeps roughly its own resonance's leak. Near them the leaks interfere, and at a detuning of 0.1414 — κ(γ₁ − γ₂)/√(γ₁γ₂) — the slower mode's decay rate is zero to within 10⁻¹², and the faster carries all 0.15. That mode sits at a frequency where the channel is open and does not leak into it: the two routes by which it could escape cancel. Waves

The resonance that refuses to leak

A resonance that sits at a frequency where waves can escape has a width, because it leaks. Put two such resonances into the same channel and let them talk to each other, and at one precise detuning one of their combinations stops leaking altogether — a mode with no width, surrounded by a continuum it could escape into and does not. It cannot be seen from outside, it traps whatever energy lands in it, and if a symmetry is what forbids the leak, it survives any change that keeps the symmetry.

 Two energies with opposite slopes, and the width between them. The energy per unit area of a domain wall in iron, against the width the wall is assumed to have, split into the two terms that decide it. The exchange term falls as one over the width, because a reversal spread over more atoms turns through a smaller angle between each neighbouring pair. The anisotropy term rises in proportion to the width, because every atom inside the wall points away from an easy direction and pays for it. The sum has a least value, found here by scanning four hundred thousand widths: 92.9 nanometres and 4.46 millijoules per square metre. Neither constant is a dimension of the sample, so neither is the width: it is the first length in magnetism that belongs to the material. The assumed profile turns at a uniform rate, which is not the cheapest way to turn, so this width is 41 per cent above the conventional πδ of the exact profile, and this energy 11 per cent above the exact 4√(AK). A trial function can only ever overestimate, and eleven per cent is how much this one costs. Electromagnetism

The first length that belongs to the substance

Every length in magnetism so far has been a length of the sample — a demagnetising factor is a shape, an avalanche cutoff is a sample's own restoring field. A domain wall's width is not. It is √(A/K), made of two material constants and nothing else, and across seven ordinary magnets it runs from two and a half nanometres to nine hundred.

 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. Mechanics

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.

 Four rays that arrive together. Meridional rays through a fibre whose index falls as the square of the distance from the axis, launched at four angles, drawn against distance along the fibre in millimetres and radius in units of the core radius. Each path is integrated from the ray equation. A steep ray swings out to where the index is lower and travels faster; a shallow one stays near the axis where the index is highest and travels slowest, and in a parabolic profile the two effects cancel: the four rays cross the axis within 0.36 per cent of a pitch of each other, measured off the traced paths rather than assumed. The pitch is 1.11 millimetres and it contains no launch angle, which is the whole of the result. Nothing about what the fibre accepts has changed — the acceptance cone is what the invariant fixed and it is untouched — and everything about when the light arrives has. Optics

The same cone, and a different arrival

The invariant fixes what a guide accepts and says nothing about when it arrives, and the two turn out to be nearly independent. Shaping the index so that the rays which travel furthest also travel fastest cuts the spread in arrival times by a factor of five hundred, at the cost of exactly half the light — and the acceptance cone the invariant governs is untouched throughout.

 A body at an interface, and the difference that holds it. The net upward force on a ten-centimetre cube straddling the boundary between two fluids, against how far its underside sits below that boundary — each curve scaled by its own largest value so that three very different cases fit on one axis. The displaced weight has to be counted twice, once with each density, so the force is linear in the displacement with a stiffness set by gravity, the cube's cross-section and the difference of the two densities — the difference, and neither of them alone. air over water holds the cube with its underside 60 per cent of the way through, at a stiffness of 97.8 newtons per metre; oil over water holds the cube with its underside 47 per cent of the way through, at a stiffness of 14.5 newtons per metre; water over mercury holds the cube with its underside 24 per cent of the way through, at a stiffness of 1229.4 newtons per metre. Both numbers are read off the drawn curve rather than substituted. The consequence is the one worth the figure: a body at an oil–water interface is held six times less stiffly than the same body at an air–water one, because the density difference is six times smaller, and the ordinary intuition that a denser fluid holds a body more firmly is exactly wrong — what matters is the contrast across the surface the body is sitting in. Fluids

The body that displaces two things

Every earlier argument has a body wetted by one fluid, so the displaced weight is a volume times a density. A body at an interface displaces two, and what holds it is the *difference* between them — so the same block is held six times less stiffly at an oil–water boundary than at an air–water one. In a continuously stratified column the neutral depth becomes stable, which is the exact opposite of the compressible case.

 The rings belong to the edge, not to the size. The far-field intensity of 3 apertures of the same width, against angle in units of the diffraction limit, on a logarithmic intensity axis spanning ten decades. They differ only in how the transmission falls off toward the rim. With a hard edge the first sidelobe is 13.3 decibels down and the core is 0.89 wide. With a Hann taper the first sidelobe is 31.5 decibels down and the core is 1.44 wide. With a Blackman taper the first sidelobe is 58.1 decibels down and the core is 1.64 wide. The hard edge's rings are not a defect of the optics and are not reduced by making it larger — they are the transform of a discontinuity, and the only way to remove them is to remove the discontinuity. What it costs is the width of the core, which is the resolution. Optics

The rings that belong to the edge

Every account of diffraction so far asks what the size of an aperture does. The rings around a star are not about its size: they are the transform of a discontinuity, they do not shrink relative to the core when the telescope grows, and the only way to remove them is to stop the transmission falling to zero abruptly. Softening the edge buys forty-five decibels of contrast and costs eighty per cent of the resolution.

 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. Mechanics

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.

 A thrust that cannot push past the hump. The resistance a hull meets against its speed in knots, in two layers whose fastest interfacial wave travels at 1.02 knots: ordinary friction rising as the square of the speed, plus the drag of the interfacial waves, whose hump sits just below the wave speed. The horizontal lines are 2 steady engine thrusts. A ship settles where its thrust meets the resistance curve. Thrust 0.6 meets it at 0.81 knots; Thrust 1.3 meets it at 0.94, 1.00, 1.82 knots. A ship accelerating from rest reaches the first crossing and stops gaining speed there, below the hump, even when a faster crossing exists beyond it — which is the dead water sailors reported, a ship held to a fraction of its usual speed by a wave it cannot see. Fluids

The wave that holds a ship back

In 1893 the polar ship Fram, which could make four or five knots, was held to about one in a calm Arctic sea with nothing visible in the water. The sea was layered — a metre or two of fresh meltwater over salt — and the ship was making a wave on the boundary between the layers, a wave that travels at about a knot and carries away almost all of a slow ship's power. Below that speed the drag is a hump no steady thrust can climb; above it the wave cannot keep up and the drag falls away.

 A pendulum with unequal steps. The potential −EJ cos φ of the junction against its phase, at EJ/EC = 50, with the lowest 4 levels of the circuit drawn across the well between their classical turning points, in units of the charging energy. The transitions are 18.94, 17.79, 16.50, each smaller than the one below it; a harmonic well of the same curvature would space them all at the square root of 8·EJ·EC, 20.00. The spacing shrinks because the cosine is flatter than a parabola away from its bottom, and the shrinking is what lets a microwave pulse tuned to the lowest transition leave the next one alone. Electromagnetism

The circuit that forgets its charge

A tiny superconducting island joined to its surroundings through a Josephson junction has discrete energy levels, and two of them make a quantum bit. The first such circuits were ruined by stray charges on nearby surfaces, which moved their levels and scrambled any superposition within a nanosecond. The cure was to make the junction's energy fifty times the charging energy. That makes the levels exponentially insensitive to charge while costing only a power-law loss in the unequal spacing that lets one transition be driven alone.

 A pendulum swung 30° with a sideways push, seen from above. The path of the bob of a 1 m pendulum free to swing in any direction, seen from directly above, released 30° from the vertical with a sideways push that would, for a small swing, make an ellipse 0.3 as wide as it is long. The path is an ellipse that turns: its long axis advances 5.30° every half swing, in the same sense as the bob goes round, where Airy's small-amplitude rate (3/8) ωab/L² gives 5.06°. Nothing outside the pendulum turns it — the pivot is fixed and there is no Earth rotation in this calculation. A pendulum on a turning Earth that is meant to show the Earth's rotation has this turning to contend with too. Mechanics

The ellipse a pendulum turns by itself

Let a pendulum swing in any direction and give it a small sideways push, and its bob traces an ellipse. For a small swing the ellipse closes. For a larger one it turns, steadily, in the sense the bob is going round — with nothing outside the pendulum turning it. Airy worked out the rate in 1851, the same year Foucault hung his pendulum in the Panthéon, and the two effects are the same size for a pendulum a metre long whose ellipse is a twentieth of a millimetre wide.

 Every ray from one point, meeting again at another. Rays from a point half a radius from the centre of Maxwell's fish-eye, n = n₀/(1 + r²/R²), traced in 11 directions round the full circle. Every one is an arc of a circle, and every one passes through the point on the other side of the centre at distance R²/r from it — 2.00 radii — which is the image. The worst miss is 8.8e-4 radii, the size of the integration's own error. Rays leaving in opposite directions, rays leaving at right angles, rays that go the long way round: all arrive. The faint circles are contours of the index, which falls from n₀ at the centre to n₀/2 at one radius and n₀/5 at two. Optics

The medium that images every point

A single refracting surface can be shaped to image one point perfectly and no other. A medium whose index falls smoothly away from a centre can do better: in Maxwell's fish-eye every ray from any point, leaving in any direction, arrives at one image point, and every such path takes exactly the same time. It is a perfect instrument for all of space at once — and the image it forms is sharp everywhere and a faithful copy nowhere.

 A parallel beam brought to a point on the far side. Parallel rays sent into Luneburg's sphere, whose index falls from the square root of two at the centre to one at the rim, from the left. Each beam is brought to a single point on the rim diametrically opposite the direction it came from; the worst of the 11 rays misses by 2.0e-3 radii. The sphere has no axis — every direction is the same to it — so a beam from any direction is focused as well as any other, and there is no such thing as an off-axis aberration. Optics

The lens with no axis

Every ordinary lens has an axis, and every one of its hardest aberrations is a penalty for looking away from it. A sphere has no axis, so a sphere cannot have off-axis aberrations — but a glass ball has spherical aberration instead, because one index and one curvature are too few to focus every ray. Luneburg's sphere, whose index falls from √2 at the centre to 1 at the rim, keeps the symmetry and removes the aberration: it brings parallel light from every direction to a perfect point on its own surface.

 A linear quadrupole, and the cone on which it vanishes. Equipotentials of a linear quadrupole — charges +q, −2q, +q in a line, a distance d apart — in a plane containing the line, positive in one colour and negative in the other. The total charge is zero and so is the dipole moment, so far away the potential falls as 1/r³ with the angular pattern 3cos²θ − 1: positive along the axis, negative around the waist, and zero on a cone. Found on circles of growing radius, the zero of the exact potential lies at 50.89° at 2d, 53.76° at 4d, 54.49° at 8d, 54.67° at 16d, closing on arccos(1/√3) = 54.74°, the dashed lines. Electromagnetism

The shape that takes five numbers

A charge distribution's net charge is one number and its dipole three. The next term, the quadrupole, is where the distribution's shape first reaches the far field, and it is a table of nine numbers of which only five survive: two for the shape and three for which way it points. Its field vanishes on a cone at 54.74° — the same angle at which a spinning sample makes a nuclear magnetic resonance spectrum sharp.

 The column that overshoots its own height. The height of water in a vertical glass tube, as a fraction of Jurin's equilibrium height 2γ/ρgr, against time for tubes of radius 0.2, 0.4, 1, 2 mm, integrated from the capillary pull, the weight and the Poiseuille drag with the inertia of the rising column. The 0.2 mm tube (Jurin height 74.4 mm) creeps up without overshooting; the 0.4 mm tube (Jurin height 37.2 mm) creeps up without overshooting; the 1 mm tube (Jurin height 14.9 mm) overshoots to 1.33 of it; the 2 mm tube (Jurin height 7.4 mm) overshoots to 1.46 of it. The linearised motion about the equilibrium is underdamped when the radius exceeds (32η²γ/ρ³g²)^(1/5) = 0.48 mm for water: wider tubes ring, narrower ones do not. Fluids

The pore that lifts highest fills slowest

Jurin's law says how high water climbs in a tube and nothing about how long it takes. The rise has three laws in succession — the column's inertia, then its viscous drag, then its weight — and the same narrowness that lifts water highest throttles it hardest, so for any deadline there is a best pore. A wide enough tube does something Jurin's law cannot: it overshoots and rings. And whatever the route, exactly half the energy the surface releases is lost.

 Six ways into a corner, each leaving from the opposite side. A corner cube seen along its axis: its hexagonal face, divided into six sectors by the three edges where its mirror faces meet and by their extensions. A ray entering along the axis meets the three faces in an order fixed by the sector it enters: y → x → z, y → z → x, z → y → x, z → x → y, x → z → y, x → y → z. Traced reflection by reflection, every ray leaves travelling exactly back along its arrival direction, to rounding error, and it leaves from the point diametrically opposite where it entered — in the sector whose order is the reverse of its own. Optics

The corner that sends light home

Three mirrors at right angles send light straight back the way it came, from any direction they can see, because each one reverses one component of its direction. Made from solid glass, a corner reflects by total internal reflection and needs no silver — which is why the reflectors left on the Moon are bare glass — but each of its six sectors then returns a different polarisation, and the returned spot loses three-quarters of its peak.

 The flow past a thread takes thousands of widths to recover. The speed of the fluid beside a body, at right angles to the stream, as a fraction of the free stream, against distance from the body's axis in body radii, in slow viscous flow. Past a sphere, from Stokes's solution, the flow is back to 90 per cent of the stream by 7.5 radii whatever the Reynolds number. Past a cylinder, from Lamb's inner solution, the speed grows only as the logarithm of distance, with a slope set by the Reynolds number: it reaches 90 per cent of the stream at 29, 232, 1,843 and 1.5 × 10⁴ radii for Re = 10⁻¹, 10⁻², 10⁻³ and 10⁻⁴ in turn. Each cylinder curve is drawn out to where the inner solution reaches the stream speed, beyond which Oseen's outer flow takes over. Each tenfold drop in the Reynolds number pushes the recovery ten times further out, because what finally stops the disturbance is inertia, at a distance of order ν/U. Fluids

The drag a distant wall decides

A sphere moving slowly through a liquid has a drag that belongs to the sphere: six pi times the viscosity, the radius and the speed, and the liquid a few radii away hardly knows it is there. An infinitely long cylinder has no such drag. The equations of slow viscous flow have no solution past it at all — Stokes found this in 1851 — because a force spread over circles instead of spheres never finishes spreading. What rescues the cylinder is whatever distant thing supplies a largest length, and its drag carries the logarithm of that length for ever after.

 Stopping down removes one colour error and not the other. The two chromatic errors of a single 50 mm N-BK7 lens with its stop 20 mm in front, at an image point 10° off axis, against the f-number. Axial colour — blue and red focusing at different distances, seen as a coloured blur at the yellow focus — is about 775/N µm across: 387 µm at f/2, 97 at f/8, 35 at f/22. Lateral colour — blue and red images of the point centred at different heights — is 55.0 µm at every f-number, because it is carried by the ray through the centre of the stop. The two are equal near f/14, and past that stopping down leaves only the error it cannot touch. Optics

The colour fringe no aperture can close

A lens bends blue light more than red, and that one fact produces two different faults. One puts the blue focus nearer the lens than the red, and closing the aperture shrinks it. The other puts the blue image of an off-axis point nearer the centre of the frame than the red one, and closing the aperture does nothing at all, because it is carried by the one ray every aperture keeps. It is why photographs have coloured fringes in their corners and not in their middles, and why a lens designer who cannot remove it with glass can sometimes remove it with symmetry, or with a distance.

 Three conditions and the window they leave. For a ray entering a diamond's table straight down, the angle from the normal at which it meets the first pavilion face, the second pavilion face and the top again, against the pavilion angle; diamond's critical angle, 24.4°, is the dashed line. The first two must lie above it, so that the ray is totally reflected; the third must lie below it, so that the ray gets out. The first holds for every pavilion angle drawn. The second fails above 51.9°, where the ray would leak out of the far side of the pavilion. The third fails outside 38.9° to 51.1°, and it is the one that decides. Together they leave a window from 38.9° to 51.1°, and Tolkowsky's 40.75° sits inside it, towards the lower edge. Optics

The window a diamond is cut inside

A well-cut diamond sends back out of its top most of the light that falls on it, and it does so without a single silvered surface. Light entering the top is totally reflected at one sloping face of the pavilion below, again at the opposite face, and then has to leave through the top — where it must not be totally reflected. Each of those three is a condition on one angle, and together they leave a window a dozen degrees wide inside which a stone looks bright and outside which it looks glassy. The window is wide for diamond and nearly closed for glass, which is why a cutter's skill cannot make glass sparkle.

 Two straight worldlines that meet twice. A spacetime diagram of a universe whose space is a circle 10 light-years round, drawn unrolled: the shaded strip is the whole of space, and the strips beside it are the same space again, so the dashed lines are the same stay-at-home twin A seen in the copies. Twin B leaves A at 0.6c and never changes speed or direction. After 16.67 years by A's clock B has gone once round and meets A again — the line reaches A's copy at 10 light-years. Neither twin has accelerated at any moment; both worldlines are straight. A has aged 16.67 years and B 13.33, less by the factor 1/γ = 0.800. The usual resolution of the twin paradox, that the travelling twin is the one who turned round, is not available: here nobody turned. Relativity

The twin who never turns round

The twin paradox is usually settled by pointing at the turn: the travelling twin is the one who fired the engines and came back, and so the one whose worldline is not straight. Put the twins in a universe whose space closes on itself, like the surface of a cylinder, and the traveller can come home by going straight on. Neither twin ever accelerates, both worldlines are straight, and the traveller still comes back younger. What decides it is not any motion but the shape of space, which picks out one state of motion as special — and hands every observer a way to measure it.

 Each unit of angular momentum costs a factor of tens of thousands. Weisskopf's estimates of the half-life of a gamma-ray transition in a nucleus of mass number 100, against the photon's energy, for electric multipoles of order 1 to 5 — the photon carrying away 1 to 5 units of angular momentum. At 1 MeV the estimates are 10⁻¹⁵ s for E1, 10⁻¹¹ s for E2, 2.0 µs for E3, 292.5 ms for E4, 17.3 h for E5. Each extra unit multiplies the half-life at 1 MeV by between 60,000 and 210,000: about a thousand of that is (λ/2πR)², the square of the photon's reduced wavelength over the nucleus's radius, which grows as the energy falls, and the rest is a numerical factor that grows with the order. A transition that must carry away five units at 100 keV has an estimated half-life longer than the age of the universe; the same energy carried off with one unit takes less than a nanosecond. Quantum

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.

 Tadpoles and a horseshoe, drawn in the turning frame. Orbits of small bodies near the circle of a planet's orbit, integrated in the frame turning with it, with the distance from that circle exaggerated 12 times so the shapes can be seen. With Jupiter's mass ratio, 0.000954, a body started 10° and 25° ahead of L4 at rest in the turning frame circles round L4 rather than falling off the hill: it swings between 51° and 70°, and between 42° and 85° from the planet — a tadpole. With a mass ratio of 10⁻⁴, a body started opposite the planet sweeps round through L4, L3 and L5 and back, never coming within 24° of the planet — a horseshoe, the kind of orbit Saturn's moons Janus and Epimetheus follow relative to each other, exchanging places every four years. In every case the Jacobi constant, the one quantity conserved in the turning frame, is held by the integration to better than a part in a million. Astrophysics

The hilltop that holds the Trojans

Sixty degrees ahead of Jupiter and sixty behind it, thousands of asteroids share the planet's orbit, held at the corners of the equilateral triangles that Jupiter and the Sun make. Seen from the frame that turns with Jupiter, those corners are the tops of two hills in the effective potential — the worst places to try to keep anything still. They hold asteroids anyway, because in a turning frame a body sliding off a hill is swung sideways by the Coriolis force into an orbit round the top. The trick works only if the planet is light enough: above a mass ratio of about one in twenty-six, the hilltops let go.

 The same nudge in four kinds of space. A body on a circular orbit given 5 per cent more speed, integrated for up to 6 turns in the field a point mass would have in spaces of 2, 3, 4, 5 dimensions. In 2 dimensions it stays between 1.00 and 1.10 of the original radius; in 3 dimensions it stays between 1.00 and 1.23 of the original radius; in 4 dimensions it leaves after 1.93 turns; in 5 dimensions it leaves after 1.19 turns. In three dimensions the orbit is an ellipse that closes; in two it is a rosette that does not close but never wanders far; from four dimensions up there are no stable orbits at all, and a planet nudged by anything would spiral away or plunge. Electromagnetism

The number of dimensions a planet can orbit in

Gauss's law says that a point source's field is its strength spread over the surface around it, and the size of that surface depends on how many dimensions space has. In three it grows as the square of the distance, and the field falls as the inverse square. Count differently and the field falls differently — and above three dimensions it falls so steeply that no planet could hold a stable orbit and no atom could hold its electron. The inverse-square law is not a fact about gravity or electricity. It is a fact about space, and it is one of the conditions for there being anything in space to orbit.

 Five images of one source, and the curves where they are made. The sky around a lens with a core of 0.10 and an external shear of 0.15, in Einstein radii, with its two critical curves: an outer one near the Einstein ring and a small inner one round the core. A source at (0.06, 0.04) in the source plane — inset, with the caustics the critical curves map to — lies inside the diamond-shaped caustic and has 5 images. Their magnifications are +4.99, −3.76, +3.42, −2.63, +0.01 — a minus sign for an image turned over — and the parities sum to +1. Four sit near the outer curve and carry nearly all of the 14.8-fold total; the fifth, at the centre, is magnified by only 0.013. A source further out, at (0.55, 0.1), has 3. Astrophysics

The fifth image a galaxy hides

A single star bends light into two images of whatever lies behind it. A galaxy, whose mass is spread out, has to make an odd number — one, three or five — because the map from the sky to the source is smooth and has nowhere to put an even count. The famous cross of four quasar images is therefore five images, with the fifth thousands of times too faint to see, sitting at the centre of the galaxy that made it. Images are born and destroyed only in pairs, and only on the curves where the map folds.

 The self-bias set by a phase alone. The dc self-bias against the phase between the fundamental and its second harmonic, each of amplitude A, for three chambers: symmetry parameter ε = 0.5, 1, 2, where ε = 1 is a chamber with equal sheaths on both sides. In the symmetric chamber the bias runs from −0.438 A at 0° through zero at 45° to 0.438 at 90°, and back — −43.8 V to 43.8 V at A = 100 V — staying within 0.011 A of a straight line between 0° and 90°. An asymmetric chamber adds a fixed offset of the kind unequal electrodes produce and leaves the phase control in place, so the geometry and the waveform add rather than compete. Astrophysics

The bias a waveform can choose

A plasma between two identical electrodes, driven by a sine wave, has no reason to prefer either side, and it does not: no direct voltage appears. Add the second harmonic and it does, although the chamber is still symmetric, no direct current flows and the power spectrum does not depend on the phase between the two. The phase alone sets a bias of up to 0.44 of each harmonic's amplitude, of either sign, and moves the energy of the ions from one electrode to the other while their number stays put.

 The drag peaks and then gives way to lift. The two forces on a magnet moving parallel to a thin conducting sheet, as fractions of the repulsion a perfect mirror image would exert, against the magnet's speed divided by the sheet's characteristic speed w = 2/μ₀σd, on a logarithmic axis. Drag grows in proportion to the speed at first, peaks at 1.27 w with 0.300 of the full repulsion, and then falls as w/v. Lift starts as the square of the speed, equals drag at v = w, where both are 0.293, and approaches the full repulsion at high speed: 0.900 at 10 w. The same eddy currents cause both. What changes with speed is how much of the image they form has time to sink away before the magnet has passed. Electromagnetism

The drag that falls as the magnet speeds up

Drop a magnet down a copper pipe and it creeps, because the currents it stirs up in the metal pull back on it in proportion to its speed. Push it faster and the proportion fails: the drag rises to a peak and then falls away, while a second force, pointing straight up, grows to replace it. A magnet moving fast enough over a sheet of aluminium is not braked but held up, with lift thirty times its drag at the speed of a fast train, and the reason is that at high speed the metal has no time to forget the magnet has passed.

 Restitution with nothing lossy in it. The coefficient of restitution of a perfectly elastic ball striking a large, perfectly elastic plate, against Zener's parameter λ, which grows as the square of the ball's radius over the plate's thickness and weakly with speed. At λ = 0 the ball comes back at its arrival speed. The rebound falls below half at λ ≈ 0.65, with no friction, plasticity or damping anywhere — the missing energy is travelling outward through the plate as bending waves. Marked: a steel ball 20 mm across at 1 m/s on steel plates 5 mm thick (λ = 0.94), 10 mm thick (λ = 0.23), 20 mm thick (λ = 0.06). Mechanics

The bounce an elastic plate cannot give back

Drop a steel ball on a thick steel block and it bounces almost to where it started. Drop it on a steel plate five millimetres thick and it comes back at barely half its speed, although steel on steel is about as elastic as materials get and nothing in the impact is plastic, sticky or damped. The energy has not been turned into heat. It has been turned into waves, running out through the plate faster than the ball can take them back — and a ball striking a longer rod loses energy the same way, by leaving it ringing.

 Too small blurs by diffraction, too large by shadow. The size of the image of a distant point through a pinhole 100 mm from the screen, in 550 nm light, against the hole's diameter, both on logarithmic axes. The dashed lines are the two simple estimates: the hole's own shadow, as wide as the hole, and the diffraction spread, 2.44λf/d. The dots are the diameter holding half the light, computed from the Fresnel diffraction integral. They follow the shadow for large holes and the diffraction for small ones, and are least — 0.207 mm — for a hole 0.336 mm across, where the simple sum of the two estimates puts its minimum at 0.366 mm. At the best hole the Fresnel number d²/4λf is 0.51: the sharpest hole, judged by where half the light lands, lets through about half of the first Fresnel zone. Optics

The hole that makes the sharpest picture

A pinhole camera makes a picture without bending any light: a small hole lets through, from each point of the scene, only the rays that reach one small patch of the screen. A smaller hole makes a sharper picture — until it does not. Below a certain size the hole spreads light by diffraction faster than it narrows the shadow, and the picture blurs again. The best hole balances the two, and at that balance it turns out to pass about half of the first Fresnel zone of the incoming wave: the sharpest pinhole is already beginning to behave like a lens.

 The pull of a meniscus against the stiffness of a wall. For two neighbouring lines of a wet pattern leaning towards each other, the net Laplace pressure pulling them together (heavy curve) and the bending stiffness pushing them back (straight lines), against the lean as a fraction of the half-gap. The pull grows faster than linearly, because narrowing a gap raises its suction, and it diverges as the gap closes. The stiffness is a straight line whose slope falls as the fourth power of the line's height; the lines drawn are for 0.8 times, 1 times, 1.25 times the critical height. At 0.8 of the critical height the straight state is stable and an unstable balance lies at a lean of 0.77 of the half-gap, a barrier the lines must be pushed over; at the critical height the two start with the same slope and the straight state is marginal; at 1.25 times the straight state is unstable and the pair collapses. Fluids

The walls a rinse pulls together

Every result about capillary rise assumes the walls hold still. Make them thin enough and they do not. The water between two walls is below atmospheric pressure, so it pulls them together, and as the gap narrows the suction grows. Beyond a critical height or length the walls cannot push back and they snap shut. It is why wet hair clumps, why a paintbrush comes out of water as a point, and why a chip factory cannot rinse lines of resist taller than about three times their width without laying them flat.

 The shear a pushed contact carries, and where it gives. Across a Hertzian contact of radius a, the normal pressure as a fraction of its peak, which is also the friction limit μp in units of μp₀ (dashed), and the shear traction for a sideways push of 0.3, 0.6, 0.9 times the load that would slide it, μP. Where the shear reaches the dashed ceiling the surfaces slip; inside, they stick. At 0.3 μP the stuck disc has a radius of 0.89a, so 21 per cent of the contact area is slipping; at 0.6 μP the stuck disc has a radius of 0.74a, so 46 per cent of the contact area is slipping; at 0.9 μP the stuck disc has a radius of 0.46a, so 78 per cent of the contact area is slipping. The shear is highest just inside the slipping ring and, in an elastic contact that simply stuck everywhere, would be infinite at the rim: slip at the edge is what removes that singularity. Mechanics

The contact that slips before it slides

Static friction is supposed to hold perfectly until the load reaches μ times the normal force and then give way. Two elastic bodies pressed together do something else. Push a ball sideways on a flat with any force at all and a ring at the edge of their contact is already slipping, while the centre stays stuck. As the push grows the ring spreads inward, and gross sliding is only the moment the stuck centre shrinks to nothing. Shake the push back and forth and the ring slips each way on every cycle. The contact then loses energy though it never slides, as the cube of how hard it is shaken.

 Colours that leave a grating on different roads. A pair of parallel diffraction gratings with 1,200 lines per millimetre and light arriving at 30°, drawn to scale for three wavelengths, 760, 800 and 840 nm. The first grating sends each colour off at its own angle — 24.3° for 760 nm, 27.4° for 800 nm, 30.5° for 840 nm — and the second turns them all back parallel to the input, side by side. Between the gratings the red travels the longest road: for gratings 10 mm apart the slant paths are 10.97 mm, 11.26 mm, 11.61 mm. Measured to a common wavefront after the second grating, the longer road still wins, so red arrives last: the geometry has given the pulse the opposite ordering to the one glass gives it. Optics

The dispersion made of angles

Glass delays blue light more than red, so a short pulse that passes through glass comes out stretched with its red end first. At the wavelengths where most short-pulse lasers work, no transparent glass does the opposite. Two diffraction gratings do it with no material at all. The first spreads the colours in angle, the second turns them back parallel, and in between the red has travelled the longer road. A spread in angle, however it is made, always adds this kind of dispersion, of the sign glass cannot give. It is how every high-power ultrafast laser squeezes its pulse back after amplifying it.

 A seabed that reflects one wavelength. The fraction of a surface wave's amplitude reflected by a patch of sinusoidal sandbars 50 m apart and 0.8 m in amplitude, in 4 m of water, against the wavelength of the incoming wave, for 4 bars and 8 bars, from the shallow-water equations integrated through the patch. 4 bars reflect 56 per cent of the amplitude at 99.8 m; 8 bars reflect 86 per cent of the amplitude at 100.4 m, close to twice the bar spacing, where each bar's small reflection returns in step with the others. Away from that wavelength the reflections cancel, and the more bars there are, the narrower the band they reflect. Waves

The sandbars that reflect the sea

A stack of alternating layers reflects the one colour whose half-wavelength matches the repeat. A row of sandbars on a gently sloping seabed is the same arrangement for ocean waves, and it does the same thing. Waves twice as long as the bar spacing are sent back out to sea, one small reflection per bar, all adding in step. A patch of eight bars can return most of the swell that meets it. The reflected wave, added to the incoming one, makes a standing pattern whose nodes are spaced exactly like the bars. Sand gathers in that pattern, so a field of bars can build its own next bar.

 One mode that loses less the faster it is driven. The wall loss, in decibels per kilometre, of three modes in a copper pipe 60 mm across, against frequency on logarithmic axes: TE₁₁, the lowest mode, cut off below 2.93 GHz; TM₀₁, cut off below 3.82 GHz; and TE₀₁, cut off below 6.09 GHz. Each loss is infinite at its cutoff and falls just above it. Then TE₁₁ and TM₀₁ turn and rise with frequency, as the square root, the way every conductor's loss does. TE₀₁ keeps falling: 0.51 dB/km at 60 GHz and 0.20 dB/km at 110 GHz, against 21 dB/km for TE₁₁ at 60 GHz. Waves

The loss that falls as the frequency rises

Every metal conductor loses more at higher frequencies, because the current crowds into a thinner skin and meets more resistance. One wave in a round metal pipe breaks the rule. The TE₀₁ mode's electric field circles the axis and touches the wall nowhere. As the frequency rises it becomes more and more nearly a plane wave running down the middle of the pipe, and it drives less and less current in the metal. Its loss falls with frequency, to about half a decibel per kilometre at 60 GHz in a pipe 60 mm across. In the 1960s it was the best way anyone knew to send a hundred thousand telephone calls across a continent. The catch was that the pipe also carried seven hundred other modes.

 Four places where three charges' fields cancel. Field lines in the plane of three equal positive point charges at the corners of an equilateral triangle, with every point where the field is zero marked. There are four: one at the centre, and three more on the lines from the centre to the middle of each side, 0.164 of a side from the centre. Four is (n − 1)² for three charges, the largest number Maxwell conjectured any three charges could make. Each zero is a saddle: along some directions the field pushes a test charge back and along others away, so none of them can hold anything still. Electromagnetism

The zeros a handful of charges can make

Between two equal charges there is a point where their fields cancel. With three there can be two such points, or one, or four. Every such point is a saddle, never a place where a charge could rest. In two dimensions the count is fixed by algebra: n equal line charges make exactly n − 1 zeros, the roots of a polynomial's derivative. In three dimensions nobody knows the answer. In 1873 Maxwell conjectured that n point charges can make at most (n − 1)² zeros. Three charges on a triangle make exactly four, and the conjecture has not been proved even for three charges.

 The strain a lumpy spinning star sends. The gravitational-wave strain at Earth from a neutron star one kiloparsec away, against the wave's frequency — twice the spin frequency — on logarithmic axes, for ellipticities of 10⁻⁹, 10⁻⁷, 10⁻⁵, 10⁻³, with the most each of three known pulsars could emit if all its observed spin-down were gravitational radiation. Crab: at most 1.4·10⁻²⁴ at 59.2 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 7.7·10⁻⁴; Vela: at most 3.3·10⁻²⁴ at 22.4 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 0.0018; J0437−4715: at most 1.6·10⁻²⁶ at 347.4 Hz, needing an ellipticity of 2·10⁻⁸. Searches have pushed the Crab's strain below about a hundredth of its limit, 1.4·10⁻²⁶. The strain grows as the square of the frequency, so a fast millisecond pulsar with a tiny mountain can send as much as a young pulsar with a large one. Astrophysics

The mountain a spinning star is allowed

A neutron star spinning thirty times a second with a bump on its surface a few centimetres high is a rotating mass quadrupole. It sends out gravitational waves at twice its spin frequency, as a steady tone lasting millions of years. None has been heard. The silence is a measurement. The Crab pulsar is slowing down, and if all the energy it loses went into gravitational waves they would have been detected many times over. Searches now say the waves carry less than a ten-thousandth of it. The mountain on the Crab is less than about ten centimetres high, on a star twenty-four kilometres across.

 The slice through a mass that a ruler has to climb. A plane through the centre of a uniform body whose compactness 2GM/Rc² is 0.34 — about a neutron star's — drawn as a curved surface on which distances along the surface are the distances rulers measure. The body's edge is a circle whose circumference is 2πR; a ruler laid from the centre to that edge along the surface measures 1.068 R, 6.8 per cent more. Outside the body the surface is Flamm's paraboloid; inside it is a cap of a sphere. The flat line beneath is what Euclid would give. The height of the surface means nothing; only lengths along it are measured. For the Earth the same excess is 1.5 mm in 6,371 km and the surface would be indistinguishable from the flat line. Astrophysics

The radius a mass adds that no circumference shows

Walk round the Earth's equator and divide by 2π, and the number is the Earth's radius. Dig to the centre and measure the same radius with a tape, and the tape comes out about two millimetres longer. Nothing is wrong with either measurement. A mass does not only slow the clocks near it; it stretches the rulers too, and the stretch is exactly as large as the slowing. Clocks cannot see it. Light can, and half of every bend and every delay that light suffers near the Sun is this.

 Three shapes of film, one sheet resistance. Three thin films of the same material, of sheet resistance one ohm per square, with four small contacts on each edge labelled A to D in order. For each, the two readings van der Pauw's method takes — the voltage between D and C per unit current from A to B, and between A and D per unit current from B to C — computed by solving for the current flow on a fine grid. For a square, contacts at the corners: 0.221 and 0.221 Ω, giving 1.000 Ω per square; a disc, contacts unevenly spaced: 0.089 and 0.450 Ω, giving 0.999 Ω per square; an irregular lamina: 0.209 and 0.232 Ω, giving 0.999 Ω per square. The readings change with the shape and with where the contacts are; the sheet resistance recovered from them by exp(−πR₁/Rₛ) + exp(−πR₂/Rₛ) = 1 does not. Electromagnetism

The sheet resistance that forgets the shape

To measure how well a thin film conducts, the obvious method is to cut it into a neat strip and pass a current along it. In 1958 Leo van der Pauw, an engineer at Philips, showed that the strip is unnecessary. Put four small contacts anywhere on the edge of a film of any shape, take two readings, and one equation returns the film's resistance per square — the shape and the spacing of the contacts drop out entirely. The proof is a single fact about logarithms and the maps that preserve angles, and it fails for exactly one kind of film: one with a hole in it.

 Blood's viscosity, measured in tubes of different sizes. The viscosity of blood at a haematocrit of 45 per cent, as a multiple of the plasma's, measured in glass tubes of each diameter (the fit of Pries and colleagues to many experiments), against the diameter on a logarithmic axis, with the two-layer model of a core inside a cell-free sleeve 2.5 μm thick, the core 4 times as viscous as plasma (dashed). In wide tubes blood is 3.20 times as viscous as plasma. From about half a millimetre down it gets steadily thinner, to 1.25 times at 6.8 μm — about the size of one red cell — and then climbs steeply, to 5.5 at 3 μm, where cells must fold to get through at all. Which viscosity blood has depends on the tube it is in. Fluids

The viscosity that belongs to the tube

Measure the viscosity of blood in a wide glass tube and it is about three times that of the plasma it is made from. Measure it in a tube a tenth of a millimetre across and it is lower; in one a hundredth of a millimetre across, lower still, barely more than plasma's. Then, below about six micrometres, it shoots up. The blood has not changed. The red cells push themselves away from the wall and leave a sleeve of plain plasma a few micrometres thick for the rest to slide in, and in a narrow tube that sleeve is a large part of the flow. A viscosity that depends on the pipe is no longer a property of the fluid alone.

 A chain in which every domino is half as large again. The first 6 dominoes of a chain in which each is 1.5 times the size of the one before, drawn to scale, each standing 0.5 of its own height from the next, the first tipping onto the second. The sixth is 7.6 times the first's height and 3325 times its barrier. Each domino falls onto one it could not have been pushed over by hand at the same effort, and the chain passes on not the push but the permission to release energy each domino already held. Mechanics

The push that pays only for the hill

A domino can knock over one half as large again as itself, and that one a still larger one, so that thirteen steps take a fall that began with a fingernail's flick to a slab as tall as a person. Nothing is being amplified by a machine. Each domino holds energy it was given when it was stood on its end, far more than it takes to tip it, and the push that starts it pays only for the small hill in front of that store. A chain of dominoes passes along not energy but permission — which is how a spark lights a fire and a nerve carries a signal the length of an arm without fading.

 The same absorber, spread evenly and gathered into patches. The fraction of light transmitted by a layer holding a fixed amount of absorber, on a logarithmic axis, against the optical depth it would have if spread evenly, for the absorber spread evenly (solid) and gathered into patches covering 50 per cent and 10 per cent of the area, the rest left clear. At an average optical depth of 2 the even layer transmits 13.5 per cent; with the absorber in patches over half the area, 50.9 per cent; over a tenth, 90.0 per cent — almost all of it through the gaps. The average of e^(−τ) over a layer is never less than e^(−average τ): Jensen's inequality, which holds for any convex function. Beer's law describes a uniform absorber and overstates the attenuation of every other kind. Waves

The pigment that absorbs less for being packed

Dissolve a dye evenly in water and it absorbs a certain fraction of the light passing through. Gather the same dye into grains — the same molecules, the same amount, in the same volume — and it absorbs less. The light has not changed and neither have the molecules. The grains shadow their own insides, and the light that would have been caught by the shaded molecules slips through the gaps between grains instead. The effect is called packaging, and it is why the chlorophyll inside large algae is worth less per molecule than the chlorophyll in small ones, and why an ocean's colour does not say directly how much chlorophyll is in it.

 A target that grows as the traveller slows. The capture cross-section of a non-rotating black hole for particles arriving with speed v, in units of the horizon's own cross-sectional area π(2GM/c²)², against v/c, both on logarithmic axes (solid). For light it is 27/4 = 6.75 times the horizon's area. It grows as the particle slows, following 4c²/v² (dashed) — 404 at a tenth of light speed and 7.43·10⁶ at the 220 km/s of the Galaxy's dark matter. The dotted curve is a Newtonian ball of radius 8GM/c² — four horizon radii — capturing by ordinary gravitational focusing, and for slow particles the hole and the ball cannot be told apart. Astrophysics

The target that grows as the traveller slows

Light aimed at a black hole is swallowed if it passes within about five of the hole's gravitational radii, a disc six and three-quarter times the horizon's own. A particle arriving slowly is swallowed from much further out, and the disc grows as the inverse square of its speed: dark matter drifting at 220 kilometres a second sees a target seven million times the horizon. The reason is that slow matter carries almost no angular momentum for a given aim, and angular momentum is the only thing that keeps anything out. For slow traffic the hole behaves exactly like an ordinary ball four times its own size.

 Two ways to be wrong, and the apparatus that sees each. The fractional sag of the potential at the centre of a charged spherical shell below the shell's own, on a logarithmic axis, against the shell's radius in metres, also logarithmic, for two different departures from Coulomb's law. If the force fell as 1/r^(2+ε) with ε = 10⁻¹⁶, the sag is 3.07·10⁻¹⁷ whatever the shell's size (dashed): the law has no length in it, so neither does its failure. If the photon had a mass of 10⁻¹⁴ eV, the sag is (μR)²/6 (solid): 4.3·10⁻²⁰ for a centimetre shell and 4.3·10⁻¹⁶ for a metre. A mass introduces a length, and the signal grows as the square of the apparatus compared with it — so the strongest bounds on a photon mass come from the largest fields, not the most sensitive laboratories. Electromagnetism

The mass that would make Gauss's law leak

Gauss's law says the flux out of any closed surface counts the charge inside, whatever the surface's size. If the photon had even a tiny mass, that would stop being true: the field of a charge would die off exponentially beyond a length ħ/mc, the flux through a large sphere would fall short of the charge, and the inside of a charged shell would no longer be field-free. There are two different ways Coulomb's law could fail, and they are caught by opposite strategies. A wrong exponent has no length in it and shows equally in any apparatus; a mass has a length, and shows as the square of the apparatus's size. That is why the tightest limit on the photon's mass comes not from a laboratory but from the magnetic field the solar wind carries past Pluto.

 The frequency of a mass on a spring that weighs something. The angular frequency of a mass M on a spring of stiffness k and mass mₛ, in units of √(k/M), against the ratio mₛ/M on a logarithmic axis: exact, from β tan β = mₛ/M (solid); Rayleigh's estimate √(k/(M + mₛ/3)) (dashed); and the textbook answer that ignores the spring's mass, 1 (dotted). For a spring a tenth of the mass the exact value is 0.9836, Rayleigh's 0.9837 and the textbook's 1 — 1.7 per cent too fast. With spring and mass equal the exact frequency is 0.8603, Rayleigh's 0.8660: the third is good to 0.66 per cent where the textbook answer is 16 per cent out. Mechanics

The third of itself a spring carries

Every textbook gives the frequency of a mass on a spring as the square root of stiffness over mass, and every real spring has mass of its own, which the formula leaves out. The repair is famous and oddly specific: add a third of the spring's mass to the load. The third is not a fudge. It is what the spring's kinetic energy comes to if each coil moves in proportion to its distance from the fixed end, and it is good to two-thirds of a per cent even when the spring weighs as much as the mass. Where it fails, it fails because the spring has stopped being a spring and become a column of waves, with notes of its own above the bounce — the notes that make the valve springs of an engine lose control.

 The drift is the area under the height. Height against time for the two balls: the throw (dashed curve) rising to 100 m in 4.52 s and falling back in as long again, and the drop (solid) falling from 100 m. For vertical motion the east–west velocity is always −2Ω cos λ times the height above the starting point, so the east–west drift is −2Ω cos λ times the area between the path and the starting height. The throw's area (lower shading) is (4/3)·h·t = 602 m s, above its start, so it drifts west; the drop's (upper shading) is h·t/3 = 151 m s, below its start, so it drifts east. The ratio of the two areas is four. Mechanics

The ball thrown up that lands to the west

Drop a ball from a tower a hundred metres high and, because the Earth turns, it lands a centimetre and a half east of the point directly below. Throw a ball straight up so that it just reaches the same height, and it lands six centimetres west of where it was thrown — four times as far, the other way. The asymmetry has a one-line explanation that turns a problem in rotating frames into a problem about areas: for anything moving straight up or down, the sideways drift is proportional to the area under its graph of height against time. A dropped ball spends its flight below where it started, a thrown one above, and the thrown one's area is four times as large.

 The stiffness a two-solar-mass star demands. The heaviest neutron star the model matter can support, in solar masses, against the constant square of the sound speed assumed above 300 MeV/fm³, as a fraction of c². At the conformal value, one-third (dashed), it is 1.92 solar masses; the heaviest star the model can make rises to 2.97 at the causal limit. To hold up the 2.08 solar masses of J0740+6620 (shaded) the square of the sound speed must exceed 0.394 of c² somewhere above that density — above the conformal one-third, by this model's reckoning. The conclusion depends on the model's low-density part, which the next figure varies. Relativity

The sound speed a neutron star needs

Heat any gas without limit and the speed of sound in it climbs towards a ceiling: not the speed of light, but light's speed divided by the square root of three, the sound speed of a gas of massless particles. For decades it was a natural guess that no matter could beat that ceiling, since the densest matter ought to behave like a gas of free quarks. Neutron stars say otherwise. A star of twice the Sun's mass, packed into a ball twenty-five kilometres across, can only be held up if its core is stiffer than the ceiling allows — unless nuclear physics fails at densities where it is believed to hold. Somewhere inside the heaviest neutron stars, sound almost certainly travels faster than it can in any free gas.

 Why the mixture of two equal waters is heavier than either. A temperature–salinity diagram for seawater near the surface, with lines of equal density (curves) 0.3 kg/m³ apart. Two waters lie on the same line: one at 4 °C and 33.93 g/kg, the other at 16 °C and 36.53 g/kg, both 1026.00 kg/m³. Mixing them in any proportion moves along the straight line between them, because temperature and salt add linearly; the lines of equal density curve, because cold water's density responds less to temperature than warm water's. The straight line lies on the dense side of the curve. An even mixture, at 10 °C and 35.23 g/kg, is 0.182 kg/m³ denser than either parent, and sinks between them. Fluids

The mixture heavier than either water

Two bodies of seawater can have exactly the same density — one cold and fresh, one warm and salty — and sit side by side without either wanting to sink. Mix them, and the mixture is denser than both, and sinks. Nothing has been added and nothing removed; the extra weight comes from the fact that water's density is a curved function of temperature while mixing averages temperature in a straight line. The same curvature, at its most extreme, is why a lake overturns twice a year and freezes from the top, and why the open ocean, too salty to have a density maximum above freezing, does neither.

 Five square logs of different densities, as they float. Cross-sections of five long square logs in their stable floating positions, with relative densities 0.1, 0.25, 0.5, 0.75 and 0.9, each drawn with its water line and its submerged part shaded, and a dot at its centre. The lightest floats flat and high; at 0.25 it has tilted to about 27°; at 0.5 it floats on its corner with a diagonal vertical and the water line across the middle; at 0.75 it tilts to the same angle as at 0.25, and at 0.9 it floats flat again, low in the water. The heavy logs are the light ones turned upside down, with air and water exchanged. Fluids

The log that floats on its corner

A long square beam of very light wood floats flat, one face up, as anyone would expect. A beam of wood half as dense as water does not: it rolls onto a corner and floats with a diagonal vertical, like a diamond. Between the two, at a quarter of water's density, it floats tilted at twenty-seven degrees, neither flat nor on edge. Heavier beams repeat the sequence in reverse, and the whole pattern is symmetric: a beam of density s floats at exactly the angle of one of density 1 − s. None of it depends on anything but a square, a density and Archimedes, and the same arithmetic decides which way an iceberg rolls when it breaks.

 The race to equilibrium that the hotter start wins. How far each system is from equilibrium with the bath — the relative entropy of its distribution from the bath's, in nats, on a logarithmic axis — against time since it was placed in the bath at 0.30, also logarithmic, for a start at 0.50 (warm, dashed) and one at 0.901 (hot, solid). The hot system starts further away: 1.243 against 0.254. Both close in quickly as their left wells equilibrate internally. Then the warm system must wait for probability to leak between the wells, and stalls, while the hot one, whose wells already had the right shares, carries on falling. The hot curve overtakes the warm one at a time of about 6.9, and from then on the hotter start is always nearer equilibrium. Thermodynamics

The hotter start that cools first

Put two identical systems, one warm and one hot, into the same cold bath, and common sense says the warm one reaches the bath's temperature first, since the hot one has further to go. The claim that hot water sometimes freezes before warm water — the Mpemba effect — has been argued over for sixty years and does not survive careful measurement. But a cleaner version of it is real and has been observed: in systems whose relaxation has a slow route and a fast one, a hotter start can miss the slow route entirely and overtake a cooler start, exponentially. Whether a system cools quickly depends not on how far it is from equilibrium but on how much of the slowest way back it needs.

 Light from one guide, spreading through a row of them. The power in each of a row of identical coupled waveguides after light launched into the central one has travelled 1.5, 3, 5 and 7 coupling lengths (1/C) along the row, drawn as stacked bars with the distance increasing upward: |Jₙ(2Cz)|², where n counts guides from the centre. The light does not spread into a single widening hump as it would in a uniform slab. It forms two beams that run outward at a constant rate, carrying most of the power in their leading edges near n = ±2Cz, and leaves the centre nearly dark: after 7 coupling lengths the central guide holds 2.9 per cent and the brightest guides, at ±12, hold 8.1 per cent each. This is discrete diffraction: the spreading of light that can only step between neighbouring sites. Waves

The light that spreads in two beams

Shine light into one of a row of identical optical fibres laid side by side and close enough to leak into each other, and it does not spread out into a widening glow as it would in a slab of glass. It splits into two beams that run outward at a fixed speed, bright at their leading edges, leaving the middle almost dark. The reason is that light hopping between neighbours has a fastest possible sideways speed, and piles up at it. The same periodicity gives the row two tricks no uniform medium has: a direction in which a beam travels without spreading at all, and a direction in which diffraction runs backwards, so that a spread beam can be gathered up again.

 The pressure under a wheel rolling on a soft surface. The pressure under a rigid wheel of radius 30 cm carrying 3 kN per metre of width as it rolls over a rubber-like bed, against position along the contact (ahead of the axle to the right), scaled to the largest pressure and the widest contact, at three speeds. The bed relaxes with times of 2 and 20 ms. At 1 mm/s the pressure is symmetric and its resultant passes through the axle. At 1.0 m/s the material ahead is being squeezed faster than it can flow and pushes back harder than the recovering material behind, which lags and lets go early: the resultant sits 6.39 mm ahead of the axle. At 1000 m/s the bed has no time to relax at all and behaves as a stiffer elastic solid, symmetric again. A wheel is held back by where its support pushes, not by any sliding. Mechanics

The push a millimetre ahead of the axle

A wheel rolling freely on a flat road slows down, and nothing in it slides. What holds it back is where the road pushes on it: not directly under the axle but a little ahead, because the material in front of the contact is being squeezed and pushes back harder than the material behind, which is recovering and lags. A car tyre's push is about three millimetres ahead of its axle, a train wheel's about two-thirds of a millimetre, and that offset, divided by the radius, is the whole of rolling resistance. It peaks at the speed where the time under the wheel matches the time the material takes to relax, and the same loss, at a different frequency, is what gives a tyre its grip.

 Rays at a frequency the ionosphere cannot stop head-on. Ray paths at 14 MHz launched at angles from 10° to 75° from the vertical into a Chapman layer peaking at 300 km with a critical frequency of 8 MHz, over a flat Earth. A wave sent straight up at 14 MHz passes through: it is above the layer's plasma frequency everywhere. A ray at φ₀ from the vertical turns back where the plasma frequency equals f cos φ₀ — the secant law — so only rays more oblique than arccos(8/14) = 55.2° return. Those that do land beyond about 1133 km; nothing comes down closer than that: the skip zone, a ring of silence round a transmitter that is audible much further away. Vertical scale exaggerated about six times. Astrophysics

The frequency the sky returns only at a slant

The ionosphere turns back any radio wave below its plasma frequency, about eight megahertz on a summer afternoon, and lets anything above it out into space — if the wave is sent straight up. Send a fourteen-megahertz wave up at a slant and it comes back down, a thousand kilometres away. Only the part of the wave's motion across the layer has to be stopped, and that part is the frequency times the cosine of the angle. The rule turns one frequency into a range of them, sets the highest frequency that can reach any given distance, and leaves a ring of silence round every short-wave transmitter, inside which it cannot be heard at all.

 A squeezed disc between crossed polarisers. The dark fringes seen in a 50 mm disc of polycarbonate, 6 mm thick, squeezed across a vertical diameter by 500 N and viewed between crossed circular polarisers in light of 550 nm: each dark line is a contour on which the principal stresses differ by a whole number of fringe values, from the stress-optic law with a coefficient of 78 Brewsters. At the centre the fringe order is 3.61; it climbs steeply towards the two loading points, where the fringes crowd together and the stress grows without limit, and falls to zero at the free edges level with the centre. The pattern is the exact stress field of an elastic disc under diametral load; every fringe can be counted from a dark point, and the count times the fringe value is the difference of the principal stresses at that place. Optics

The stress that polarised light can see

Squeeze a disc of clear plastic and look at it between two crossed polarising filters, and it fills with dark lines and coloured bands that crowd towards the points where it is pressed. Each line is a contour of stress. Glass, plastic and most transparent solids become doubly refracting when they are loaded, in proportion to the difference between their largest and smallest stresses, and polarised light turns that difference into a pattern that can be counted. David Brewster found it in 1816, the same Brewster whose angle polarises reflected light, and for a century the way to learn the stresses in a bridge or a dam was to cut its shape from plastic, load it and photograph the fringes.

 Four cosines between a lens and the edge of its picture. Light from a direction 30° off the axis passing through a lens and landing at the edge of the image, with the four factors that dim it relative to the centre. The aperture, seen from that direction, is foreshortened to cos θ of its area. The image point is further from the lens, f/cos θ instead of f, and the light spreads as the square of the distance: cos²θ. The light arrives at the image plane at a slant, spreading over 1/cos θ more area: one more cos θ. Together, cos⁴θ: at 30° the edge receives 0.563 of the light at the centre, 0.83 photographic stops darker. Nothing here is a fault of the glass. A perfect thin lens, or a pinhole, does it, because it is geometry. Optics

The four cosines at the edge of a photograph

Photograph a plain, evenly lit wall with a wide-angle lens and the corners of the picture come out darker than the middle — by more than three photographic stops with a 14 mm lens on a full-frame camera. It is usually blamed on the lens. A perfect lens does it too, and so does a pinhole, because the light reaching the edge of an image is reduced by four separate cosines of the angle it came from: three of them pure geometry, and one the slant at which it lands. Fisheye lenses avoid most of the loss by refusing to keep straight lines straight. Every wide lens is a choice between the two.

 The lift of a zero-pressure balloon as it climbs. The gross lift, in tonnes, of a zero-pressure balloon whose envelope holds at most 1.1 million cubic metres, against height, for launches with 3,500 and 5,000 cubic metres of helium; the dashed line is its 3 tonnes of envelope, payload and ballast. At launch the envelope is mostly empty. As the balloon climbs the gas expands exactly as fast as the air thins, so the mass of air it displaces stays the same and the lift stays at 3.69 or 5.28 tonnes all the way up. The envelope fills at 37.5 km with the larger fill and 39.9 km with the smaller; above that, gas vents through the open base, the volume is fixed and the lift falls with the air's density. Both reach the same float, 41.3 km, where the lift has fallen to the weight. More helium only makes the climb faster; the ceiling is set by the envelope's size and the mass it carries. Fluids

The balloon that floats at a density

A helium balloon let go rises until something stops it, and what stops it depends entirely on how it is built. A party balloon or a weather balloon stretches until it bursts. An open-bottomed science balloon climbs at constant lift — its gas expanding exactly as fast as the air thins — until its envelope is full, then floats where the air is thin enough. A sealed, unstretchable balloon floats where its whole density equals the air's and bobs back if pushed away. None of them floats at a height; each floats at a density. The difference between the three is how compressible the balloon is compared with the air around it, the same comparison that decides whether a Cartesian diver sinks.

 The temperature through growing lake ice. Temperature against depth below the ice surface in a lake under air 10 K below freezing, after 1, 4 and 16 days, from Stefan's law with the ice's top held at the air's temperature. The ice is 11.1, 22.3, 44.6 cm thick; within it the temperature rises in a straight line from −10 °C at the top to 0 °C at the bottom, and below it the water is at 0 °C throughout. Ice forms only at the bottom, where water meets ice at the freezing point, and the latent heat it releases there has to be carried up through all the ice above by conduction. The straight lines get shallower as the ice thickens: the same temperature difference drives heat across a longer path, so less heat escapes and the ice grows more slowly. Sixteen times as long gives four times the thickness. Thermodynamics

The ice that grows more slowly the thicker it gets

A lake under air ten degrees below freezing grows eleven centimetres of ice on the first day and only another eighteen in the following six. The ice forms at its underside, and every gram of it releases latent heat that must be carried up through the ice already there before more can form: the ice is its own insulation. The thickness therefore grows as the square root of time, and the rule, Stefan's, depends on temperature and time only through their product — the freezing degree-days that lake-ice forecasters count. A few centimetres of snow on top slows it more than any amount of cold speeds it up.

 The voltage a gas gap can hold, on one curve. The breakdown voltage of a gap in air between flat electrodes against the product of pressure and gap width, on logarithmic scales — Paschen's law, in which pressure and gap enter only as their product because both count how many collisions an electron makes on the way across. Townsend's model, with γ = 0.01 electrons freed per ion at the cathode, has its minimum of 305 V at 1.12 Pa·m — a gap of 11 μm at atmospheric pressure, or 112 Pa across a centimetre. Measured minima in air are about 330 V. To the left the gap is too short, or the gas too thin, for an electron to make enough collisions, and the voltage climbs steeply; below about 0.41 Pa·m there is no gas breakdown at any voltage. To the right, collisions are so frequent that an electron gains too little energy between them, and the voltage rises nearly in proportion to pd. Dashed, the empirical law for air at larger pd: 31.4 kV for a centimetre at one atmosphere, against the model's 35.5. Electromagnetism

The spark that needs room to start

Air is an excellent insulator until it is not, and the usual statement of when — three megavolts a metre — is true only for gaps of about a centimetre. A gap breaks down when one electron's avalanche of ionisation sends back enough ions to the cathode to free one more electron, and that condition depends on the pressure and the gap only through their product. The result is a curve with a floor: about 330 volts in air, below which no gap of any width will spark, and above which both a thinner gas and a denser one insulate better.

 The armature sits where the field has halved. The magnetic field halfway between two parallel rails carrying a current out along one and back along the other, against the distance along the barrel in units of the rails' spacing, as a fraction of the field between infinitely long rails. The rails end at zero, where the armature closes the circuit. A few spacings behind the armature the field is the full value: 98.5 per cent at two spacings back. At the armature it is exactly half, because each rail there is a wire that stops, and a wire that stops gives half the field of one that does not. Ahead of the armature it falls away: 15 per cent half a spacing in front. The current in the armature crosses this field and is pushed forward; the push is the current times the field it sits in, which is half the field behind it, and that is where the half in ½L′I² comes from. Electromagnetism

The push at the end of a pair of rails

A railgun is two metal rails, a sliding conductor across them and a very large current, and the push on the slider is half the inductance per metre times the current squared. The half is not a fudge. The slider sits at the end of two rails that stop, and a wire that stops gives exactly half the field of one that does not. Followed through, the same circuit pushes its own rails apart six times harder per metre than it pushes the projectile, stores as much energy in its field as it gives the projectile, and wastes less the faster it shoots.

 A floating needle and the water it displaces. A cross-section of a steel darning needle 1.36 mm thick (density 7.85) floating on water, with a contact angle of 100°, its meniscus computed from the balance of surface tension and pressure; one capillary length is 2.73 mm. The needle's centre sits 1.43 mm below the undisturbed surface, and the water meets it 117° from the top, sloping at 37°. Two regions of water have been displaced. Below the level, under the needle, a region whose weight — 21 per cent of the support — is what pressure on the needle's underside supplies. Beside it, the two dents in the surface, whose weight — the other 79 per cent — is exactly the vertical pull of surface tension along the two contact lines. Together they weigh what the needle weighs: Archimedes, counting the dent. Fluids

The water the dent displaces

A steel needle laid carefully on water floats, and the usual explanation is that surface tension holds it up instead of buoyancy, as though the two were rival mechanisms. They are not rivals. The needle presses a dent into the surface, and the upward pull of surface tension along its edges is exactly the weight of the water missing from that dent. Archimedes' principle holds without amendment: a floating needle displaces its own weight of water. Most of that water is simply not underneath it.

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