Illustrated Physics
physics, drawn
Theme

Who is measuring

Quantities that are not properties of the thing but of the thing and an observer: which events are simultaneous, how long something is, how fast it is going and whose second is being counted.
A spacetime diagram at β = 0.5. Position across, time up, in units where light travels at 45°. The shaded wedges are the future and past reachable by light; the tilted axes belong to an observer moving at 0.5 of the speed of light. Relativity

Two axes, one speed, and a diagram that does the arguing

Put position across and time up, insist that light travels at forty-five degrees for everyone, and nearly every result in special relativity becomes something to read off rather than derive.

 A light clock at β = 0.6. The same clock at rest and moving. Light covers the hypotenuse rather than the height, and since its speed is the same for both observers, the moving clock must take longer to tick. Relativity

The clock that has to slow, and why no clock can refuse

One constant speed and one right-angled triangle force a moving clock to tick slower. The argument is Pythagoras, which is what makes it inescapable rather than merely surprising.

 Simultaneity at β = 0.5. Two events on the same horizontal line happen at the same time for the stationary observer. The moving observer slices spacetime along the tilted line, and for them one event happens before the other. Relativity

Now is a choice of slicing

Two events happening at the same time is not a fact about the events. It is a fact about who is asking, and different observers slice spacetime at different angles.

 Wavefronts from a moving source. Circles showing where each crest has reached, centred on where the source was when it emitted them. Ahead of the source the crests are closer together and the frequency heard is higher; behind, they are spread out and it is lower. Waves

The note that changes on approach, and the two ways of getting it

A moving source and a moving listener produce different formulas for the same shift, because the medium is watching. The difference is small, real, and the reason light had to be treated differently.

 A spacetime diagram at β = 0.5. Position across, time up, in units where light travels at 45°. The shaded wedges are the future and past reachable by light; the tilted axes belong to an observer moving at 0.5 of the speed of light. Relativity

The length that depends on when, and is not really about length

A moving object is measured shorter. The contraction is real, it is not an illusion of light travel time, and it turns out to be a disagreement about simultaneity wearing a different costume.

 Malus's law. The fraction of polarised light passing a filter, against the angle between the light's own direction of shaking and the filter's axis. It is the cosine squared: half at 45 degrees, nothing at 90. Optics

The direction of the shaking, and the filter that only asks about it

A wave that travels one way can still shake in any direction across that way. Light does, most of it shakes in all of them at once, and a sheet of plastic can ask which.

 A packet on deep water, ω = √(gk), 1.6 s apart. A wave packet built from a Gaussian spread of wavenumbers about 1.57 per metre, drawn at two times 1.6 seconds apart, with its computed envelope ghosted around it. Between the two frames the envelope's peak moves 2.01 metres and the marked crest moves 3.95 metres, so the packet travels at 1.26 metres per second and the crests at 2.47 — a ratio of 0.51. Waves

The packet that moves at another speed than its own crests

Watch a group of water waves and the individual crests run forward through it, rise in the middle, and vanish off the front. The group travels at half the speed of the crests, and both numbers are real.

 Composing a boost with a speed, and never passing one. The speed one observer measures when a body moving at v is seen from a frame already moving at u, for u = 0.4, 0.6, 0.9, 1 times the speed of light. Every curve ends at one and none crosses it. The straight dashed line is the Galilean answer, u + v, which reaches 1.4c and is wrong. The flat line at the top is light: composing c with anything gives c back. Relativity

Speeds that refuse to add, and the quantity that does

Run at half the speed of light, throw something forward at half the speed of light, and the result is not the speed of light. It is four-fifths of it, and there is a variable in which the arithmetic is still simple addition.

 A packet, and the wavenumbers it is made of. Above: a wave packet built by adding a continuum of plane waves centred on wavenumber 12 with a spread of 1.6. Below: the weight given to each wavenumber. The packet's width, measured as the standard deviation of its probability, is 0.442; the spread of wavenumbers is 1.131; their product is 0.500, which is a half and cannot be less. Narrowing one bracket widens the other by exactly as much. Nothing quantum has been used to draw either panel. Quantum

Sharpness has to be paid for

A wave with one exact wavelength has no beginning and no end. Making it short requires adding wavelengths, and the two widths trade against each other exactly — which is a fact about waves, with Planck's constant added only to convert the units.

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

One arrival at a time, and the pattern still appears

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

 A beam through a chain of analysers. An unpolarised beam of intensity 1 entering 3 analysers oriented at 0°, 90°, 0°, selecting the + then + output each time. The intensities are 0.500 and 0.500 out of analyser 1; 0.250 and 0.250 out of analyser 2; 0.125 and 0.125 out of analyser 3. The last analyser is oriented the same way as the first, and it produces a "−" beam of 0.125 — a beam of exactly the kind the first analyser removed entirely. The middle analyser did not filter the beam; it replaced what the beam had an answer to. Quantum

The answer that was not there before

Send a beam through an analyser and it splits in two. Send one half through a second analyser turned sideways, then through a third pointing the way the first did, and the property the first analyser removed has come back.

 Speed against wavelength. Phase and group speed for waves on water 4 m deep. Short waves are dispersive — the speed rises as the square root of the wavelength and the group travels at half the phase speed — and long ones all travel at √(gh) = 6.26 m/s together, which is why a tsunami keeps its shape across an ocean while a wind sea spreads out into swell. Fluids

The speed that depends on the length

Long waves on water travel faster than short ones, which is why a distant storm arrives as a slow swell and a tsunami crosses an ocean without spreading. One relation covers both, and the two familiar rules taught separately are its two limits.

 Light crossing an accelerating box. A pulse crosses a box 6 m wide while the box accelerates at 9.81 m/s². The crossing takes 2·10⁻⁸ s, in which the far wall gains 1.96·10⁻⁷ m/s, so the pulse lands 1.96·10⁻¹⁵ m below the height it left at — and the path is a parabola. An observer sealed inside cannot tell that from a beam of light bending in a gravitational field, and the equivalence principle says there is nothing to tell. The sag is drawn 5.6·10¹⁴ times its true size. Astrophysics

The floor that cannot be told from gravity

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

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

The clock that runs slow lower down

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

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

Two clocks that disagree about the fall

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

 A spacetime diagram at β = 0.6. Position across, time up, in units where light travels at 45°. The shaded wedges are the future and past reachable by light; the tilted axes belong to an observer moving at 0.6 of the speed of light. Relativity

The twin who comes back younger

If motion slows a clock, and motion is relative, each twin should find the other younger — and yet when they meet, one of them has aged less. The asymmetry is not in the speed and not in the acceleration; it is in which worldline is straight.

 Three answers where sound has two, and one where it has none. The factor by which an approaching source's frequency is raised, against its speed as a fraction of the wave speed. For sound it matters which of the two is moving: a moving source gives 1/(1 − β) and a moving observer gives 1 + β, and at 0.5 of the wave speed those are 2.000 and 1.500. For light there is one answer, 1.732 — the geometric mean of the other two, exactly — because there is no medium to be moving with respect to. The fourth curve is the transverse shift, which happens at closest approach when the distance is not changing at all: 0.866, and nothing classical predicts it. Relativity

The shift that survives at right angles

For sound it matters which of the two is moving, and the two answers differ. For light there is one answer — their geometric mean — and a term with no classical counterpart at all: a source going past at closest approach, with its distance not changing, is still shifted.

 One puck, two frames. A puck slides outward from the centre of a turntable at 1.4 m/s across a table of radius 1 m, which turns through 0.55 of a revolution in the 0.71 seconds the crossing takes. On the left, in the room: a straight line, because no force acts along it. On the right, on the turntable: a spiral, because the coordinates turned underneath it. The two panels are the same numbers with the same clock — the second is the first with the angle rotated by −Ωt — so whatever is bending the path on the right is arithmetic, and it is still worth a name, because on a turning planet the right-hand panel is the one everybody lives in. Mechanics

The forces that are not there

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

 The dip that decides it. Two equally bright points seen through a circular aperture, their Airy patterns added, at 0.7, 1, 1.6 times the Rayleigh separation. Below each is the depth of the dip between the peaks, measured off the drawn sum: 0.0%, 26.5%, 91.6%. At exactly the Rayleigh separation the dip is 26.5% — the criterion is a convention about how much of a dip a detector can see, not a threshold anything crosses. Below it the two peaks merge into one and the pair is gone; above it the answer was never in doubt. Optics

How far apart two things have to be

An instrument's ability to tell two things apart is not set by the quality of its glass. It is set by the width of the hole light comes through, by a factor that is the first zero of a Bessel function — and the threshold everyone quotes is a convention laid over a computed dip of 26.5 per cent.

 What puts a scale on a tilted axis. A spacetime diagram with a second observer's axes at β = 0.6. The curves are the sets of events at a fixed interval from the origin — c²t² − x² = s², one branch each for s = 0.5, s = 1, s = 1.5 — and the whole point of them is where they cross. A unit of the moving observer's time is wherever the s = 1 curve meets the tilted time axis, and on the page that point is 1.250 times as far from the origin as the stationary observer's own unit. Without the hyperbolae the tilted axes carry no scale at all, and every argument about which of two clocks is behind is unreadable off the diagram. Each drawn crossing reads back as its own interval to 0.0e+0. Relativity

The quantity nobody argues about

Relativity takes away the length of a rod and the duration of an event and hands back exactly one thing in their place. Its hyperbolae are what put a scale on the tilted axes of a spacetime diagram — without which the diagram is a picture with no units on it.

 The same wire, seen twice at 0.6c. Above: the wire in the laboratory. The lattice is at rest and the electrons drift, so the electrons are the contracted ones — and the wire is neutral, which means their contracted spacing is what the manufacture of a neutral wire produced. Below: the same wire seen by something moving with the electrons at 0.6c. Now the electrons are at rest and the spacing between them stretches by γ = 1.250, while the lattice moves and its spacing contracts by the same factor. The two densities no longer cancel and the wire is charged. Nothing was done to the wire; the only thing that changed is who is looking, and the magnetic force in the first frame is the electric force in the second. Relativity

Magnetism is electricity seen sideways

The force on a charge moving beside a current-carrying wire is magnetic in the laboratory and purely electrostatic in the charge's own frame. Both calculations give the same answer, and the drift speed that makes them agree corresponds to a Lorentz factor differing from one in the twenty-sixth decimal place.

 What puts a scale on a tilted axis. A spacetime diagram with a second observer's axes at β = 0.6. The curves are the sets of events at a fixed interval from the origin — c²t² − x² = s², one branch each for s = 0.5, s = 1, s = 1.5 — and the whole point of them is where they cross. A unit of the moving observer's time is wherever the s = 1 curve meets the tilted time axis, and on the page that point is 1.250 times as far from the origin as the stationary observer's own unit. Without the hyperbolae the tilted axes carry no scale at all, and every argument about which of two clocks is behind is unreadable off the diagram. Each drawn crossing reads back as its own interval to 0.0e+0. Relativity

The invariant that survives a boost

Energy and momentum are both answers to the question "how fast is it going, and according to whom". One combination of them is not, and that combination is the mass — which is why two photons of 511 keV can be a thing of mass 1.022 MeV or a thing of no mass at all, depending only on the angle between them.

 Simultaneity at β = 0.866. Two events on the same horizontal line happen at the same time for the stationary observer. The moving observer slices spacetime along the tilted line, and for them one event happens before the other. Relativity

The pole that fits and does not fit

A twenty-metre ladder is carried through a ten-metre barn at 0.866 of light speed, and both doors shut behind it. In the ladder's own frame the barn is five metres long and there is plainly no room. Both accounts are correct, and the doors' closings are 57.8 nanoseconds apart in one of them.

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

The correlation no instructions can produce

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

 Where the light that was sideways ends up. The direction a photon is seen to travel in the laboratory, against the direction it was emitted in the frame of the source, for a source moving at 0.5c, 0.9c, 0.99c. The straight diagonal is what would happen if a boost only changed frequencies; every curve lies well below it, which is aberration. The number that matters is where the emitted right angle lands, because half of everything emitted is on that side of it: 60.0° at 0.5c, 25.8° at 0.9c, 8.1° at 0.99c. The usual shorthand for that angle is 1/γ, which gives 49.6°, 25.0°, 8.1° — good to a few per cent only once the source is genuinely relativistic, and wrong by 17% at 0.5c. Nothing is emitted differently in any of these cases: the source is radiating exactly as it always did, and it is the map from its angles to ours that has changed. Relativity

The sky that crowds into a cone

A boost does not only shift frequencies. It remaps directions, so half of everything a fast traveller can see is squeezed into a forward cone of half-angle about 1/γ — and because brightness carries four powers of the Doppler factor, what lies ahead is overwhelming and what lies behind has effectively gone.

 Two corrections, opposite in sign and different in size. How fast a clock in a circular orbit runs compared with one on the ground, in microseconds a day, against the height of the orbit — with the two effects drawn apart rather than added. Being high speeds a clock up, by an amount that saturates: the potential term is bounded because there is only so much potential to climb out of. Moving slows it down, and a higher orbit is a slower one, so that term shrinks toward zero. They cancel at 3186 km — a radius of exactly 1.5 Earth radii, which follows from setting the sum to zero and contains neither G, nor the Earth's mass, nor the speed of light. At 20200 km the gravitational term is 45.7 µs a day and the speed term −7.2, leaving 38.5. Left uncorrected, that is 11.5 km of position error a day, growing without limit, from a clock that is working perfectly. Relativity

The clock that is wrong in two directions

A satellite clock loses 7.2 microseconds a day to its speed and gains 45.9 to its height. The two effects have opposite signs, different sizes and different dependence on the orbit, so there is exactly one altitude where they cancel — and 38.6 microseconds a day, left alone, is eleven and a half kilometres of position error.

 Which happened first, asked of several observers. Two events on a spacetime diagram: one at the origin and one 3 light-seconds away and 1 second later, so that light leaving the first cannot reach the second. Through the second event runs a family of lines, each one the set of events some observer calls simultaneous with it; an observer moving at a fraction β of the speed of light has such a line of slope β on these axes. Where a line meets the vertical axis is the time that observer assigns to the second event. For a slow observer that meeting point is above the origin and the second event happens later; for a fast one it is below and the second event happens EARLIER. The changeover is at β = 0.3333, which is the time separation divided by the space separation, and it is a legal speed only because the separation is spacelike. So the order of these two events is not a property of the events. What every observer does agree on is that neither could have caused the other, because the two lie outside each other's light cones — drawn here as the diagonals — and that agreement is what causality rests on rather than on any shared notion of before. Relativity

Which came first, and who decides

Two events far apart can happen in either order, depending on who is asked, and both answers are correct. That is not a loophole in causality but the reason causality survives at all — because the pairs whose order is negotiable are exactly the pairs neither of which could have caused the other.

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

The horizon that nothing marks

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

 A cube photographed at four speeds. The outline a camera records of a cube passing at β = 0, β = 0.4, β = 0.7, β = 0.9, moving to the right, seen at the moment it passes. The dashed square is what the usual picture shows: the cube flattened along its motion by the Lorentz factor. It is not what the camera gets. Light from the far face left earlier than light from the near face, by the time it needed to cross the extra distance, and the cube moved in that interval — so the far face appears displaced backwards and the side of the cube comes into view. The two effects together are exactly a rotation: at β = 0.4 the cube photographs as one turned 23.6°, at β = 0.7 the cube photographs as one turned 44.4°, at β = 0.9 the cube photographs as one turned 64.2°. The contraction has not gone anywhere — a ruler laid alongside still reads 43.6 per cent of the proper length at the highest speed drawn — but it is a statement about two positions at one time, and a photograph is not that. Relativity

The contraction no photograph shows

Every textbook picture of a relativistically moving object drawn between 1905 and 1959 showed it squashed. A camera would have shown it turned. The contraction is entirely real in the measurement that defines it, and a photograph is not that measurement.

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

The delay that is not a bend

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

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

The energy that depends on the observer

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

 Solid and liquid are answers about a duration. The relaxation time of seven materials, on a logarithmic axis spanning 39 decades, against the length of one observation. A material behaves as a solid when its relaxation time is longer than the observation and as a liquid when it is shorter, so the vertical line is what decides which — and it is a property of the observer. At 1 s, 4 of these are solids. Move the line six decades to the right and pitch joins the liquids; move it far enough left and water is a glass, which is not a figure of speech but what a picosecond pulse measures. Fluids

The liquid that remembers

Pitch shatters like glass under a hammer and flows through a funnel over a decade. Neither behaviour is the true one. What decides which a substance shows is not the substance but the length of the observation, and the ratio between the two has a name and a number.

 Two pivots with one period, and the length between them. The period of a uniform bar 1 m long swung about a pivot, against the distance of that pivot from its centre of mass. Close to the centre the period runs away, because there is almost no restoring torque; far from it the bar behaves more and more like a simple pendulum. In between is a minimum at h = k = 0.2887 m, the radius of gyration, and because there is a minimum every period above it belongs to two pivots at once — here 0.4 m and 0.2083 m, whose product is k² and whose periods agree to 2.2e-16 seconds. Suspend the bar from those two knife edges in turn, adjust until the periods match, and the equivalent simple pendulum is the distance between them: 0.6083 m. Then g = 4π²(h+h′)/T² gives 9.8100 m/s², recovered from the drawing to 1.8e-16. The mass of the bar, the distribution of that mass, and the position of the centre of mass appear nowhere in the answer. Mechanics

The length nobody has to measure

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

 A quarter of the time, an object is found without being touched. The outcomes of sending one photon into a balanced interferometer, with and without an opaque object in one arm, computed from the same amplitudes. With the arm clear, every photon leaves by the bright port and the dark port receives nothing. With the object in place, 50 per cent of photons are absorbed by it, 25 per cent reach the bright port and say nothing, and 25 per cent reach the dark port — which is impossible unless something is in the arm, and which happens with the object still sitting there unabsorbed and unlit. The photon that produced that click did not go through the blocked arm, because a photon that goes through a blocked arm is absorbed. So an object has been located by light that never met it. The price is that 50 per cent of attempts destroy the thing being looked for: an efficiency of 33 per cent, which the Zeno version of the apparatus takes as close to one as one likes. Quantum

The measurement that never touched it

A balanced interferometer sends every photon to one output and none at all to the other. Put an object in one arm and the empty port starts clicking — and a click there is caused by a photon that cannot have gone near the object, because a photon that goes near it is absorbed. The object has been found by light that never met it.

 Two rockets that keep their distance, and the string that does not. Two rockets 0.5 unit apart in the laboratory, given identical acceleration programmes there, drawn in units where the light speed is one and c²/a is one. Their laboratory separation is constant for ever — the two worldlines are the same curve shifted sideways, and every horizontal line meets them 0.5 apart. The slanted lines are the rockets' own lines of simultaneity, and the distance between the worldlines measured along those is what a string tied between them has to span: at 0.3c it is 0.512, a stretch of 2 per cent; at 0.6c it is 0.557, a stretch of 11 per cent; at 0.8c it is 0.631, a stretch of 26 per cent; at 0.9c it is 0.710, a stretch of 42 per cent. The γL that is always quoted — 0.524, 0.625, 0.833, 1.147 here — is the limit of that measurement for a vanishing gap, and at a gap of 0.5 in these units it overstates the stretch by up to 38.1 per cent; shrinking the gap a hundredfold brings the two within 0.46 per cent. Either way the string is stretched and breaks, while the gap in the laboratory never changes by a millimetre. Length contraction is not something that happens to a rod. It is a statement about which events count as simultaneous, and a rod that is not allowed to contract is a rod that is being pulled apart. Relativity

The string that breaks between two rockets

Two rockets a metre apart, given identical acceleration programmes, stay a metre apart in the laboratory for ever. A string tied between them breaks anyway. Nothing pulls on it, nothing in the laboratory moves relative to anything else, and the string is stretched — because the distance it has to span is measured on the rockets' slices of simultaneity and not on the laboratory's.

 A source moving faster than its own waves. Circles showing where each crest has reached, centred on where the source was when it emitted them. Ahead of the source the crests are closer together and the frequency heard is higher; behind, they are spread out and it is lower. Waves

The cone the source leaves behind

Take the Doppler construction past the speed of the wave and the wavefronts acquire an envelope. Its half-angle obeys sin θ = 1/M, an expression with no pressure, no density and no shape of the object in it — so a photograph of the cone is a speedometer. And the bang is not an event at the moment of crossing — it is a signature dragged along the ground for the whole of the flight.

 One expression over 3 decades of area times rate. Sagnac time difference against the product of enclosed area and rotation rate, both logarithmic. The relation Δt = 4AΩ/c² is linear in that product — the fitted slope of the drawn points is 1.0000 — and it contains no refractive index, no shape of the loop and no position of the axis inside it. a 1 km fibre gyroscope on a 10 cm coil: 1.62e-19 s, 3.14e-5 fringes; Sagnac's own ring, 1913: 4.84e-17 s, 0.0666 fringes against a reported 0.07; a laboratory turntable at one revolution a second: 6.99e-17 s, 0.0331 fringes; Michelson and Gale, 1925: 4.50e-16 s, 0.2364 fringes against a reported 0.23. Michelson and Gale's rectangle in Illinois is the one that carries the check: 0.236 fringes predicted from its own dimensions and the vertical component of the Earth's rotation at its latitude, and 0.230 reported. Relativity

The ring where the two beams disagree

Send light both ways round a closed loop on a turntable and the two beams come back at different times, by 4AΩ/c² — an expression with no refractive index in it, no shape of the loop and no position of the axis. The same number is what a set of clocks round the rim fails to close by, which is the sharper statement — on a rotating platform there is no global simultaneity to be had.

 Fringe contrast against baseline, for four stellar diameters. The visibility of the fringes an interferometer would obtain at 575 nm, against the separation of its two apertures, for uniform discs of angular diameter 10, 20, 47, 100 milliarcseconds. Each curve is 2J₁(πθB/λ)/(πθB/λ), the transform of a uniform disc, and each first reaches zero at 14.47 m for 10 mas, 7.23 m for 20 mas, 3.08 m for 47 mas, 1.45 m for 100 mas. Dividing each of those by λ/θ returns the same number, 1.2197, which is the 1.22 in every textbook and is the first zero of J₁ divided by π — recovered here from the four curves rather than written into them. The practical content is that a smaller star needs a longer baseline, in exact inverse proportion, and that the measurement is of a contrast rather than of a picture. Michelson and Pease found the fringes from Betelgeuse vanishing at a 3.07 m separation in 1920 at a wavelength of 575 nm, which by the same arithmetic is a disc 47.1 milliarcseconds across — and no telescope resolved that star for another seventy years. Optics

The fringe that measures a star

Set two apertures 3.07 metres apart in 1920 and the fringes from Betelgeuse vanish. That single fact gives the star's angular diameter to two significant figures, without ever forming an image of it — because the contrast of a fringe pattern is a Fourier component of the source's own shape.

 Three vector potentials for one magnetic field. Three different vector potentials, drawn as arrow fields over the same square, every one of which describes the same uniform magnetic field of 1 tesla out of the page. The symmetric gauge circulates about the origin; the two Landau gauges are unidirectional and point in perpendicular directions, and neither has any circulation about anything a reader can see. Underneath each is the field recovered from its own arrows, by adding up the potential round a small square and dividing by the area enclosed — which is what the curl is. The three numbers 1.000000, 1.000000, 1.000000 agree to the last digit computed. The picture is the argument: a vector potential has no physical direction, no physical magnitude and no physical circulation of its own, because a change of gauge alters all three and alters nothing that can be measured. What survives is the curl, and the curl is the field. Electromagnetism

The potentials that are not unique

Nobody solves Maxwell's equations for the fields. They are solved for potentials instead, and the potentials are not unique — three completely different vector potentials describe the same uniform magnetic field, and one of them changes everywhere the instant a charge moves, at any distance, without anything having outrun light.

 How far a 1-gravity ship gets, against its own clock. The distance covered by a ship accelerating steadily at 1 gravity for half the trip and braking for the other half, against the time on its own clock, on a logarithmic vertical axis. The curve is a cosine hyperbolic and therefore an exponential once the ship is relativistic, which it is after about a year: Proxima Centauri in 3.5 shipboard years, Sirius in 4.6 shipboard years, the Pleiades in 11.9 shipboard years, the galactic centre in 19.8 shipboard years, Andromeda in 28.6 shipboard years. Nothing about this violates anything. The speed never reaches c — it is the hyperbolic tangent of the rapidity and after 3.5 years it is 0.9495 at turnover — and every one of those journeys takes slightly more than the distance in years as measured from home. What is growing exponentially is not the speed but the length contraction, and the traveller's honest description of the trip is that the distance shrank. The rapidity is what accumulates steadily: it grows by one unit every 0.969 years of shipboard time, for ever, with no ceiling anywhere in the arithmetic. That is the whole reason the numbers come out survivable, and the reason the fuel does not. Relativity

The ship that never arrives at c

Accelerate at one gravity and never stop. The speed creeps toward light and never reaches it, and meanwhile the galactic centre is twenty shipboard years away and Andromeda twenty-nine. What makes the journey survivable is that rapidity has no ceiling; what makes it impossible is that the fuel goes as the exponential of the same quantity.

 The clock that gains going one way and loses going the other. The rate at which a flown clock gains on a clock left at 30° latitude, in nanoseconds per hour, against the aeroplane's ground speed, with east taken as positive. Two terms are drawn and then their sum. Height alone gives 3.5 nanoseconds an hour at 9 km and does not care which way the aircraft is pointed. Motion costs time, and because the ground is already moving eastward at 402 metres a second, flying east adds to that speed and flying west subtracts from it — so the kinematic term is much larger going east and can change sign going west. The sum crosses zero at 180 metres a second eastward, which is the ground speed at which an aeroplane's clock keeps the time of the airfield it left. Over the two flights Hafele and Keating actually made, this simple model gives -61 nanoseconds eastward and +304 westward, against their own predictions of -40 and +275 and their measurements of -59 and +273. The model here uses one average altitude, one average speed and one latitude, where the real prediction integrated the flight logs; getting the signs and the rough sizes out of three lines of arithmetic is the point, and the last twenty per cent is what the logs are for. What no amount of arithmetic supplies is the thing the experiment settled: that the effect is real, that it acts on a caesium clock in a passenger seat, and that a difference of a few hundred nanoseconds after two days is measurable. Relativity

The two clocks that flew in opposite directions

Two caesium clocks were flown round the world in 1971, one each way, and came back disagreeing with the clock left behind — one having lost 59 nanoseconds and the other gained 273. Height alone would have made both gain. The sign flip comes from the ground already moving eastward at 400 metres a second before the aircraft took off.

 The gas that leaves is not the gas inside. The distribution of molecular speeds inside a container at 300 K and in the beam that escapes through a small hole in it, each normalised to its own peak. They are not the same distribution. A molecule's chance of reaching the hole in a given time is proportional to how fast it is going, so the beam carries one more factor of speed than the gas does — v³ rather than v² times the Boltzmann factor — and the beam is therefore faster and hotter than what it came from. The mean speed inside is 476 m/s and in the beam 561 m/s, a ratio of 1.1781 against the exact 3π/8; and the mean kinetic energy is 1.500 kT inside against 2.000 kT in the beam, which are exactly 3/2 and 2. That difference is not a subtlety. A molecular beam made by effusion has a temperature, in the sense of a mean energy, a third higher than its source; a gas slowly leaking from a container leaves the remainder cooler than it would be if a fair sample had gone; and every calculation of a rate through an aperture that uses the bulk distribution is wrong by this factor. Thermodynamics

The gas that leaves is not the gas inside

Put a small hole in a container of gas and what comes out is faster and hotter than what stays behind — its mean kinetic energy is 2kT against the 3/2 kT of the gas it came from. Nothing has heated it. A fast molecule simply reaches the hole more often than a slow one, so the sample that escapes is biased by exactly one factor of speed, and every consequence of effusion is that factor.

 The temperature of an acceleration. The Unruh temperature against proper acceleration, both axes logarithmic. An observer accelerating through empty space finds it is not empty: the state that an inertial observer calls the vacuum, an accelerated one finds populated, with a thermal spectrum at T = ħa/2πck — which is 4.06e-21 kelvin for every metre per second squared. The line is straight because the relation is exactly proportional, and the numbers on it are what make the effect so hard to see: one gravity gives 3.98·10⁻²⁰ K, a centrifuge at 10⁵ g gives 3.97·10⁻¹⁵ K, an electron in a strong laser gives 40.6 K, the surface of a solar-mass hole gives 6.17·10⁻⁸ K. Reaching one kelvin requires 2.5·10²⁰ m/s², which is 2.5·10¹⁹ gravities and beyond anything that can be sustained. What makes the effect worth taking seriously despite that is not its size but its structure: it says the number of particles present is not a property of the field alone but of the observer as well, and the same expression with a black hole's surface gravity in place of the acceleration is the Hawking temperature exactly, checked here to a part in 10¹². Relativity

The temperature of an acceleration

Empty space is empty for an observer who is not accelerating. For one who is, the same state of the same field is a thermal bath at a temperature proportional to the acceleration — and the constant of proportionality is 4 × 10⁻²¹ kelvin for every metre per second squared, which is why nobody has felt it. What the effect changes is not what can be measured but what a particle is.

 Where to put the far clock's zero. Two clocks three light-seconds apart, synchronised by radar: a pulse leaves the near clock at 0, bounces off the far one, and returns at 6 seconds. The far clock must be set to some time between those, and every choice is drawn. Einstein's convention puts it at 3 — halfway — and gives the same speed of light in both directions. Any other value is equally consistent with every measurement that can be made, because everything measurable involves a round trip and the round trip takes 6 seconds under every one of them: computed here across the five conventions, the round-trip times differ by 0e+0 seconds. The lines are the resulting surfaces of simultaneity, which fan out from the halfway choice. What each choice fixes is the one-way speed of light — ε = 0.25 makes it 2.00c outward and 0.67c back, ε = 0.4 makes it 1.25c outward and 0.83c back, ε = 0.5 makes it 1.00c outward and 1.00c back, ε = 0.6 makes it 0.83c outward and 1.25c back, ε = 0.75 makes it 0.67c outward and 2.00c back — and no experiment distinguishes them, because measuring a one-way speed requires two synchronised clocks and synchronising them requires the answer. Relativity

The speed that cannot be measured one way

Every measurement of the speed of light ever made has sent it out and brought it back. Measuring it one way needs two clocks that agree, and making two distant clocks agree needs a rule about when the far one should read what — which is a choice, not a discovery. The constancy of c is a fact about round trips; its isotropy is a convention, chosen because it makes the equations simple.

 What is lost is exactly what is recorded. Fringe visibility against the distinguishability of the record left in the environment, for six couplings between the interferometer and a marker. The points lie on the quarter circle V² + D² = 1, computed here to a part in 10¹² — the visibility from the output probabilities with the marker traced out, and the distinguishability from the overlap of the marker's two states, with nothing shared between the two calculations. The relation is the quantitative form of complementarity, and it is stronger than the usual statement: interference is not lost because something was disturbed, and not lost only when a measurement is made. It is lost exactly to the extent that the environment could in principle say which way the particle went, whether or not anybody looks at the environment. That is why decoherence is a matter of correlation rather than of disturbance: the coherence has not been destroyed but relocated, into a correlation between the particle and something else. Quantum

Where the interference goes

A superposition does not stop being a superposition when something interacts with it. What happens is that the coherence moves — out of the system and into a correlation between the system and its surroundings — and the interference disappears from any measurement made on the system alone. For a dust grain in air the move takes 10⁻²⁸ seconds, which is why nothing large has ever been seen in two places.

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

The grain that is in the light

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

 Three sources, and the number that separates them. The chance of detecting a second photon a delay τ after a first, divided by the chance if the two were independent, for three kinds of light. At long delay every curve is one, which is what independence means. At zero delay they are 2, 1 and 0, and those three numbers are three different physical situations. Thermal light is bunched: its intensity fluctuates, and a photon is more likely to be found where the intensity happened to be high, so it arrives with company for as long as the fluctuation lasts — 4 nanoseconds here. A laser is flat, because a coherent state has no intensity fluctuation to correlate with. And a single emitter is antibunched: it gives zero, exactly, because after emitting it is in its ground state and cannot emit again until it has been re-excited, which takes 12 nanoseconds. The zero is the important one. Every classical field, of every possible intensity distribution, has g²(0) at least one — the inequality follows from the fact that the mean square of a real positive quantity is at least the square of its mean. A measurement below one is not merely evidence for photons; it is a result no wave theory can produce. Quantum

The experiment a wave cannot pass

The photoelectric effect is offered everywhere as the proof that light is quantised, and it is not one — a classical wave falling on quantised matter reproduces every feature of it. The measurement that no wave can pass is a different one: send single photons at a beam splitter and count how often both detectors fire.

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

The circle light cannot leave

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

 Three copiers, and what each of them costs. How well three copying machines reproduce a qubit, against the state's angle from the pole. The first is a linear machine built to copy the two pole states perfectly; linearity then fixes what it does everywhere else, and on an equal superposition it produces an entangled pair whose overlap with the two copies wanted is exactly 0.500. That is the no-cloning theorem written as a number rather than as an argument: no adjustment is available, because the machine's behaviour on superpositions was decided the moment its behaviour on the basis was. The second measures in a fixed basis and prepares two copies of what it found, which is perfect at the poles and averages 0.6667 over the sphere — two thirds, exactly. The third is the best machine there is, and it manages 0.8333 on every state alike: five sixths, and not one. Quantum

The state that cannot be copied

Every measurement in this collection disturbs what it measures, and the obvious way round that is to make a spare first. It cannot be done, and the reason is not a practical difficulty or a limit on how good an apparatus can be: a copier is a linear machine, so fixing what it does to two states fixes what it does to their superpositions, and what it then does is not a copy.

 How fast something looks as it moves across the sky. The apparent transverse speed of a source, in units of the speed of light, against the angle between its motion and the line of sight, at β = 0.8, β = 0.95, β = 0.99. Every curve rises above one over a range of angles, reaching 1.33 at 36.8°, 3.04 at 18.4°, 7.02 at 8.1° — and those maxima are γβ at arccos β, found by searching the drawn curves rather than put into them. Nothing is moving faster than light. What has happened is that the source has come closer between the two observations, so the second flash had less far to travel and arrived sooner than it would have done; dividing the transverse distance by the interval between arrivals therefore gives too large a speed. Below β = 1/√2 no angle produces the illusion at all, so seeing it is a measurement: it puts a floor under the speed and a ceiling on the angle at once. Relativity

The motion that measures faster than light

Take two photographs of a jet a year apart, measure how far a blob moved across the sky, divide by a year, and the answer can be seven times the speed of light. Nothing has broken. The blob came closer between the two pictures, so the second flash had less far to travel and arrived early, and the interval between arrivals is not the interval between departures.

 The same source, seen coming and seen going. The observed flux of a moving source, relative to the same source at rest, against the angle between its motion and the line of sight, on a logarithmic scale, at β = 0.5, β = 0.9, β = 0.99. The curves span 8.1e+1, 1.3e+5, 1.6e+9 between the approaching and receding directions, which is ((1+β)/(1−β))⁴ exactly. The fourth power comes from the one quantity every observer agrees about: the specific intensity divided by the cube of the frequency. Three powers of the Doppler factor come from that invariance and the fourth from integrating over frequency. Two consequences are worth reading off. A source seen side-on is fainter than the same source at rest, by γ⁴ — a factor of 2.5e+3 at the fastest speed drawn. And half the light arrives inside a cone of 60.0°, 25.8°, 8.1°, which for a fast source is one over γ. Relativity

The brightness that is not the same for everyone

A moving source is not merely shifted in colour. Its light is concentrated forwards, so the same lamp is enormously brighter seen coming than seen going — by the fourth power of one number, which for a jet at ninety-nine per cent of light speed is a factor of a thousand million. The reason is that only one combination of intensity and frequency is the same for every observer, and everything else follows from it.

 A circumference that is more than 2π times the radius. The ratio of a rotating disc's measured circumference to 2π times its measured radius, against the speed of the rim, together with the rate of a clock carried on the rim. Rulers laid round the rim lie along their own direction of motion and are contracted; rulers laid along a radius lie across it and are not. So the circumference takes more of them than a stationary observer counts and the radius takes the same number, and the ratio is γ: 1.091 at β = 0.4, 1.400 at β = 0.7, 2.294 at β = 0.9. The geometry a rotating observer measures is therefore not Euclidean, and it is not Euclidean by an amount that depends on where on the disc the measurement is made. That is the observation Einstein said set him on the road to describing gravity with curved geometry: here is an accelerated frame, and here is a geometry in it that no choice of Cartesian coordinates can flatten. The rim's clock runs slow by the same factor, so a rotating frame has neither a common time nor a flat space. Relativity

The disc that cannot be spun

Set a disc turning and measure its circumference with rulers carried on the rim. They lie along their own direction of motion and are contracted, so more of them fit; rulers along a radius lie across the motion and are not. The ratio of circumference to radius is therefore not two pi, in a frame where nothing is happening but rotation — and Einstein said that was what set him looking for gravity in geometry.

 A reflection is shifted twice, and not by the same factor. A wave of unit frequency sent at a reflector closing at 90 km/h, in air. The target meets the fronts sooner than they arrive at a fixed point, so what reaches it is 1.072886 — the observer shift, which multiplies by (c + v)/c. It then re-emits what it received, and now it is a source running after its own wavefronts, which divides by (c − v)/c: the echo comes back at 1.157233. The two operations are different functions and only their product is symmetric, so the round trip is (c + v)/(c − v) rather than the square of either. The shift is 15.7233 per cent where a single one would be 7.2886 — a factor of two to first order in v/c and not exactly two at any speed. For light the same round trip is (1 + β)/(1 − β), which is the square of 1.000000083, and that number is the whole content of the relativistic Doppler effect rather than an approximation to it. Waves

The shift a mirror gives twice

A moving reflector is a receiver and a source in one, so it shifts a wave twice — and the two shifts are different functions of the speed, which is why the round trip is not the square of either. Everything a speed radar does follows from that, including the two things it cannot do.

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

The correlation that survives what the phase does not

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

 One factor, defined by an experiment rather than by a transformation. A observer A stays at x = 0 and flashes a light every 1 second by their own clock. B recedes at 0.6c. The flashes are the diagonal lines; where each meets B's worldline is where B receives it. B's clock reads a longer gap between arrivals than A's read between departures, by the factor k = 2.0000, and it is the same factor between every consecutive pair — measured here off the drawn meetings rather than assumed. That single number is the whole apparatus. Nobody has written down a coordinate transformation, chosen a convention for distant simultaneity, or drawn a tilted axis; the only thing used is that light travels on the diagonals and that neither observer is special, so B's flashes reach A stretched by the same k. From it: γ = (k + 1/k)/2 = 1.2500, and β = (k² − 1)/(k² + 1) = 0.6000. Relativity

Everything from an exchange of pulses

Send a flash every second and ask how often the far observer receives them. That one measured ratio generates time dilation, the composition of velocities and the twin result, with no coordinate transformation written down anywhere and no convention chosen about what "at the same time" means far away.

 The turnaround, made gentler and gentler, and the difference that does not move. A round trip to a star 4 light-years away at 0.6c, with the turnaround done at nine different accelerations from a tenth of a gravity to a thousand. The upper curve is the age difference between the twins and the lower one is how much of that difference the turnaround itself contributes. At 0.1 g the turn accounts for 51 per cent of it; at 1000 g it accounts for 0.00 per cent, and it keeps falling. The total does not follow it down: it tends to 2.67 years, which is what the instantaneous-turnaround cartoon gives. So the acceleration is not what makes the twins differ. It is what makes one twin's path the bent one, and a bent path through spacetime is shorter for the same reason a bent path on a map is longer — but the amount is in the legs, not in the corner, and the corner's contribution can be made as small as anyone likes without the difference going away. Relativity

The clock that does not feel the turn

Proper time is the integral of dt over gamma, which presumes that a clock's rate depends on its speed and on nothing else — not on its acceleration, not on how long it has been accelerating. That is an assumption about clocks rather than a theorem about spacetime, and the twin result is empty without it.

 One measurement that separates unpolarised from polarised. What a rotating linear polariser passes, against its angle, for beams of the same total intensity and degrees of polarisation 0, 0.35, 0.7, 1. Every curve has the same average — a polariser passes half of any beam over a whole turn, whatever its state — and they differ only in how deeply they modulate. The depth of the modulation is the degree of polarisation, exactly: a fully polarised beam goes to zero at one angle and a beam with no preferred direction gives a flat line at a half. That is the whole measurement, and it is why "unpolarised" is a statement about a modulation depth rather than about what a wave is doing. Optics

The light with no direction of shaking

Unpolarised light is not a state of a wave; it is the absence of one, and no description of a single wave can represent it. What can is a set of four numbers, all of them powers a detector reads — and they describe every beam there is, including the ones that are neither polarised nor not.

 Minima that are not zeros. The amplitude along a line carrying a wave towards a load and its reflection back, for reflection magnitudes of 0, 0.35, 0.7, 1. With everything reflected the pattern touches zero and is a standing wave in the strict sense. With less than everything it does not: the minima sit at one minus the reflection and the maxima at one plus it, so the pattern is a partial standing wave sitting on a travelling one. The spacing is half a wavelength in every case, and the depth is the only thing that changes — which is why one number, the ratio of the maximum to the minimum, is enough to report the whole pattern. Waves

The node that is not standing still

A wave meeting a perfect reflector makes a standing wave with real nodes. A partial reflection makes something that looks the same and is not: the minima are not zeros, energy flows steadily through them, and the depth of the pattern is a measurement of the load that caused it.

 A ratio in the exponent. The Boltzmann factor against the energy of a state measured in units of kT, with the logarithm up the axis so that the straight line is the whole content. Every kT of energy costs a factor of e, so 5, 12, 20 times kT are factors of 10^-2.2, 10^-5.2, 10^-8.7. At 295 K, kT is 25.4 meV, so a barrier of 0.4 eV is 15.7 kT and a factor of 1.5e-7. That is the sense in which a third of an electronvolt is not a small energy: it is small compared with a chemical bond and enormous compared with kT, and it is the second comparison that decides whether anything happens. Thermodynamics

The temperature a molecule does not have

Temperature fixes a system's average energy and nothing more. The actual energy wanders, by an amount tied to the heat capacity, and the relative size of the wandering falls as one over the square root of the number of degrees of freedom — so a mole has a temperature and a molecule does not.

 Which pairs have anything between them. The commutator of every pair of 4 observables of a spin-½, multiplied out in 2×2 complex arithmetic and shown by the size of AB − BA. The diagonal is exactly zero: an observable commutes with itself, which is why measuring the same thing twice gives the same answer. S², the total angular momentum, is a multiple of the identity here and so commutes with everything — its row and its column are zero, and a spin can have a definite total angular momentum and a definite component at the same time. The largest entry is 0.7071 in units of ħ². Sz: 0.000 with Sz, 0.707 with Sx, 0.707 with Sy, 0.000 with S²; Sx: 0.707 with Sz, 0.000 with Sx, 0.707 with Sy, 0.000 with S²; Sy: 0.707 with Sz, 0.707 with Sx, 0.000 with Sy, 0.000 with S²; S²: 0.000 with Sz, 0.000 with Sx, 0.000 with Sy, 0.000 with S². A zero cell is a promise that the two quantities can be sharp together; a non-zero one is an obstruction whose size sets how badly they cannot. Quantum

The questions that can be asked together

Two quantities can have definite values at once exactly when their operators commute. That is a piece of arithmetic about matrices, and everything the uncertainty principle forbids follows from it — including the fact that most of the time it forbids nothing at all.

 Outside the winding, where nothing is supposed to be. The mid-plane of a solenoid 20 radii long, wound at 8 turns per radius, with the field summed turn by turn rather than assumed. The upper curve is the axial field against distance from the axis: it holds up across the winding and collapses outside, reaching 0.47 per cent of its central value at 2 radii. The lower curve is the flux enclosed by a circle of that radius, which is what the vector potential integrates to. The two behave completely differently, and that difference is the whole subject: the field an electron outside can feel has effectively gone, and the flux it encircles has not. The enclosed flux does fall, by 3.29 per cent out to four radii, because the lines that leave the ends come back through the plane outside the coil — that return flux is the leak a real experiment has to defeat, and the reason the definitive versions used a closed toroidal magnet with no ends at all. Quantum

The phase a magnet leaves on a path it never touched

An electron beam split around a solenoid comes back with its fringes displaced, although neither path ever entered a magnetic field. What the electron responds to is the flux it went round, and the only local quantity that knows about that flux is the potential.

 The delay that stops caring how thick the wall is. The Wigner phase time — how late the transmitted packet's peak arrives, compared with a free particle covering the same distance — for an electron under a 3 eV barrier, at 0.2 nm, 0.5 nm, 1 nm thick. 0.2 nm: 0.3728 fs at half the barrier height; 0.5 nm: 0.4372 fs at half the barrier height; 1 nm: 0.4388 fs at half the barrier height. The widths span a factor of 5.0 and the times span 1.18. A thicker barrier is exponentially harder to cross and the delay in crossing it barely moves — which is either a remarkable fact about tunnelling or a sign that the phase time is not a traversal time, and the rest of the essay is about which. Quantum

How long the crossing takes

Tunnelling has a probability, and asking how long it takes turns out to be a different kind of question. The delay a transmitted packet shows stops growing once the barrier is opaque, so a thicker wall is crossed in the same time — and several defensible clocks give several different answers.

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

What the instrument actually hears

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

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

Whether a charge on a table glows

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

 What comes back after one turn, and what needs two. A spin-½ pointing along z and rotated about the x axis through 720°, with the rotation integrated step by step rather than evaluated from a formula. The direction of the spin — the quantity a Stern–Gerlach magnet, a compass or any other instrument reports — is back where it started after 360°, exactly as the orientation of any other object would be. The state is not: its overlap with the state it began in has reached −1 there, and returns to +1 only after 720°. At 360° the overlap is -1.000 and ⟨σz⟩ is 1.000; At 720° the overlap is 1.000 and ⟨σz⟩ is 1.000. Both curves come off one integration of dψ/dθ = −(i/2)σx ψ whose norm is checked before anything is drawn, so the factor of two between their rates is a property of the propagation rather than of two separate formulae that were chosen to differ. Quantum

The turn that has to be made twice

Turn a spin-½ through a full circle and it does not come back. The direction it points in does, and every measurement on it does, but the state itself has changed sign — and a second full turn is needed before anything is where it started. The sign is invisible on one spin and measurable the moment a superposition has one branch turned and the other not.

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

The clock that measures a height

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

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

The fall that does not depend on what is falling

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

 The fringes a flow of water moves. The interference fringe shift against the speed of the water, for two tubes 1.5 m long, an index of 1.333, and light of 526 nm — Fizeau's apparatus. The beam is split, each half goes with the flow in one tube and against it in the other, and the two are recombined; the shift is the difference in transit time counted in wavelengths. Three predictions are drawn and they are not close together. If the water did not affect the light at all the shift would be zero, flat along the bottom. If the water carried the light with it completely the shift would be the steepest line. Fresnel's partial drag is the middle one, and at 7 m/s it gives 0.207 of a fringe — which is what was measured, to the accuracy of an eye reading a fringe pattern in 1851. The experiment therefore did not merely detect an effect; it chose between three quantitative possibilities that differ by factors of two, which is why a fraction of a fringe settled something. Relativity

The drag that was only an addition

Light in moving water is carried along by it, but only partly — by a fraction of the water's speed that depends on the refractive index in a way nobody could account for. Fresnel invented the coefficient to save a theory, Fizeau measured it in 1851, and it sat unexplained for half a century. It is the first term of the relativistic velocity addition and nothing else.

 The half-life that depends on the electrons. Half-lives of 3 nuclides as neutral atoms and as bare nuclei, measured at a heavy-ion storage ring where fully stripped ions can be kept circulating for months. The changes are not corrections. ¹⁸⁷Re goes from 41.6 billion years to 32.9 — a factor of 1.26 billion — because a beta decay whose available energy is only 2.5 keV cannot put an electron into the continuum but can put one into an empty K orbital, and stripping the atom opens that channel. ¹⁶³Dy is stable as an atom and decays in 47 days as a bare nucleus, for the same reason. The rate is a property of the nucleus and of what surrounds it, and the rung below this one says otherwise. Quantum

The half-life that chemistry can change

The first rung of this ladder said a nucleus has no clock and that nothing outside it touches the rate. That is very nearly true and it is not exactly true. Electron capture takes an electron from the nucleus's own position, so its rate is proportional to how many electrons are there — which is chemistry, worth a per cent. And a nucleus stripped of every electron can gain a decay channel it did not have: rhenium-187 goes from forty-two billion years to thirty-three.

 The entropy a substance keeps depends on how fast it was cooled. The entropy of a supercooled liquid in excess of its crystal's, against temperature, for a substance melting at 305 K with an entropy of fusion of 43 joules per kelvin per mole and a liquid heat capacity exceeding the crystal's by 62. The equilibrium curve — the one the liquid follows while it can still relax — falls steadily and would reach the crystal's entropy at 152.4 kelvin. It never gets there, because the liquid falls out of equilibrium first, at a temperature that depends on how long it is given: 0.01 s/K freezes at 196.1 K with 15.61 left, 1 s/K freezes at 188.1 K with 13.03 left, 100 s/K freezes at 182.1 K with 11.03 left. Ice's residual entropy is a count and does not move; a glass's is whatever it happened to have when it stopped being able to change, and that is a property of the experiment. Thermodynamics

The entropy that depends on how fast it was cooled

Ice's residual entropy is a count, and it comes out the same whoever measures it. A glass's does not. A glass keeps whatever entropy it happened to have when its own relaxation time crossed the experiment's, so cooling ten times more slowly leaves less behind — and extrapolating the equilibrium liquid below that point takes its entropy under the crystal's at a finite temperature, which cannot happen and does not, for a reason that is still argued about.

 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.

 Two entropies that agree until half filling. The entropy per unit of 100 two-level units against the fraction excited, by Boltzmann's definition, the logarithm of the number of arrangements at that energy, and by Gibbs's, the logarithm of the number at or below it. Below half filling they nearly coincide: at a quarter excited they are 0.538 and 0.542 per unit, and both approach the dashed large-system curve. Boltzmann's entropy then turns over and falls back to zero when every unit is excited; at three-quarters it is 0.538. Gibbs's cannot fall, because a running total cannot, and it levels off at ln 2 = 0.693, reaching 0.693 at three-quarters. The slope of each is one over its temperature. Thermodynamics

The count that decides which entropy is right

There are two ways to count the states of an isolated system: the states at its energy, which is Boltzmann's entropy, and the states at or below it, which is Gibbs's. For large systems in ordinary conditions they agree to the last measurable digit. For a system whose energy has a ceiling, past the halfway point, one gives negative temperatures and the other forbids them. Definitions cannot settle which is right, but a temperature is for something — saying which way heat will flow — and putting two such systems in contact lets the count of states answer.

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

The binding energy that has to fall too

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

 The barrier a reverse field takes away. The energy of a single-domain particle against the direction its moment points, in units of its anisotropy energy, for four strengths of reverse field along the easy axis. With no field the two directions are equally good and the barrier between them is exactly the anisotropy energy. A reverse field tilts the landscape and lowers the barrier out of the forward well as the square of the field: at 0.0 of the anisotropy field the barrier is 1.000 KV, at 0.1 of the anisotropy field the barrier is 0.810 KV, at 0.3 of the anisotropy field the barrier is 0.490 KV, at 0.6 of the anisotropy field the barrier is 0.160 KV. Each barrier is located by scanning two hundred thousand directions for the stationary points rather than by substituting the formula. The whole of the argument follows from the barrier being finite: a particle does not need the field that removes the barrier, only time enough to be shaken over what is left of it. Electromagnetism

Nothing keeps a magnetisation for ever

A magnetised particle sits in a well with a barrier between it and the other direction, and a barrier of finite height is crossed eventually. So remanence has a lifetime, coercivity is a different number depending on how fast it is measured, and a grain below about twenty nanometres of iron forgets within a second at room temperature.

 The modes of a wire, counted. Nyquist's argument of 1928, with its count performed. Two resistors joined by a lossless line are in equilibrium, and the line is a one-dimensional cavity whose standing waves are spaced c/2L apart in frequency. Each mode has an electric and a magnetic energy, both quadratic, so equipartition gives it kT — the same half a kT per quadratic term that a heat capacity counts. The upper points are how many modes fall in a band of a hundred and thirty-seven megahertz, for five line lengths, from 17 on a thirteen-metre line to 8,558 on one of six kilometres. The lower points are the power each end therefore receives, as a fraction of kTΔf, and they converge on one: a longer line has proportionally more modes and takes proportionally longer to deliver them, so the length cancels. The longest line lands within 0.005 per cent and the shortest is 4.5 per cent low, because thirteen metres holds only seventeen whole modes in the band and the remainder is a real granularity rather than an error. What is left in the limit is kTΔf — a noise power with no resistance in it at all, and none of the line's properties either. Thermodynamics

Half a kT in a piece of wire

Count the quadratic terms in a molecule's energy and equipartition gives a heat capacity. Count them on a transmission line instead and the same theorem gives a resistor's noise voltage — 4kTRΔf, with nothing in it about what the resistor is made of. A fifty-ohm input at room temperature says 0.91 nanovolts in every root hertz, and no design removes it.

 How large now is, on this planet. By how much a synchronisation carried around a region of the rotating Earth fails to come back to itself, against the size of that region — from a metre to the whole planet, both axes logarithmic. The three horizontal lines are what three kinds of clock can resolve, and where each crosses the curve is where that clock can detect that 'now' is not a global notion: a good wristwatch at 785 thousand km, a quartz oscillator at 25 thousand km, a caesium clock at 785 km. Carried the whole way round the equator the defect is 207 nanoseconds, which is sixty metres of light travel and is the correction every satellite-navigation system applies. The effect is not small and not exotic; it is a routine engineering term, and the reason it was not an engineering term before 1955 is that nothing could measure it. A wristwatch's now is global out past the Moon; a caesium clock's reaches about the width of a large country. Relativity

How big now is

Three earlier arguments have established that a global now is a choice, that part of the choice is convention, and that for a rotating observer no consistent global choice exists at all. What survives is a size. Every observer has a local now, and how local is computable: on the rotating Earth it is 785 kilometres to the nanosecond, and a freely falling frame is inertial over the tolerance times the distance to the centre, divided by two.

 No beam is narrow enough and wide enough at once. Three lengths at the far end of a Stern-Gerlach magnet 10 centimetres long with a gradient of 1000 tesla a metre, against the width of the beam entering it, for an electron at 100 electronvolts. The spin splitting is a horizontal line at 2.9e-6 metres: it does not depend on the beam's width. The Lorentz blurring rises in proportion to the width, because the field a particle sees depends on where in the beam it is, and the divergence-free condition ties a gradient in one component to a gradient in another. It overtakes the splitting at 1.0e-9 metres. Narrower than that and diffraction has already spread the beam by 3.9e-3 metres, which is larger still. There is no width at which the splitting is the largest of the three, and the magnet's length and gradient cancel out of the comparison entirely — so no magnet helps. Quantum

The experiment that defines spin and cannot be done on it

A Stern–Gerlach magnet separates magnetic moments and is how spin was discovered. It cannot be made to work on a free electron, and the obstruction is not the apparatus: the field gradient that splits the beam also deflects the charge by an amount that varies across it, and the ratio of the splitting to that blurring comes out as the de Broglie wavelength over the beam width — with the magnet's length and gradient cancelling exactly.

 A blackbody in every direction, at a different temperature in each. The spectrum of a blackbody at 100 kelvin in its own frame, seen by an observer it is moving past at 0.5 of the speed of light, in 5 directions. Each curve is a Planck spectrum exactly — the Planck form survives a Doppler shift, with the temperature multiplied by the shift — and the temperatures run from 57.74 kelvin looking one way to 173.21 looking the other. So the body is a perfect blackbody in each direction and has no single temperature. A thermometer placed in the radiation reads something between, and what it reads depends on where it is put and on how much of the sky it sees — which is the reason a transformation law for temperature was argued about for sixty years without being found. Relativity

The body that has no temperature when it moves

Energy, momentum, length, duration and field strength all change when the observer moves. Temperature was argued about for sixty years, with three transformation laws proposed and each defended by people making no mistake. The resolution is that a moving blackbody is a perfect blackbody in every direction at a different temperature in each — so a thermometer's reading depends on where it is put, and the quantity the law was for is not there.

 The bath does push back, by an unmeasurable amount. The retarding force on a perfectly absorbing body moving through isotropic radiation at 2.725 kelvin, against its speed, for three areas. Moving through a bath of radiation is not free: the radiation arriving from ahead is blue-shifted and more intense and the radiation from behind is red-shifted and weaker, so the body absorbs more momentum from the front than from the back and decelerates. A square metre at half the speed of light feels 3.7e-14 newtons. That is the reason a preferred frame exists without relativity being violated: the laws are the same in every frame and the radiation is not — it is a physical system with a state, and its state picks out the frame in which it is isotropic, exactly as a body of water does. Relativity

The bath that pushes back

Moving through a bath of radiation is not free. The light arriving from ahead is blue-shifted and more intense and the light from behind is weaker, so a body absorbs more momentum from the front than from the back and slows down. That drag picks out the frame in which the radiation is isotropic — without violating relativity, because the laws are the same in every frame and the radiation is not.

 The paths in space: orbits of one period, and a throw straight up. The same free falls drawn in space around the Earth, which is the filled disc. All start at the marked point 2 Earth radii from the centre. The circle is the circular orbit. The ellipses, of eccentricity 0.2 and 0.4, have the same period, so they come back to the start at the same moment. The straight line is the thrown clock's path: straight up to 4.46 Earth radii and back down the same line, arriving as the orbits complete one revolution. The Earth's rotation is ignored and it is treated as a point mass for the paths that pass close to it. Relativity

The orbit that ages less than a throw

A clock in orbit and a clock thrown straight up leave the same point at the same moment and meet there again one period later. Both fall freely the whole way, so both follow paths of stationary proper time — and the thrown clock comes back 4.1 microseconds older. Even a clock held still by a rocket, which is not falling at all, beats the orbit. Free fall picks out a path that is stationary, not one that is longest.

 Equilibrium is where the entropy peaks, and there the temperatures differ. Two cavities of radiation, one high in a gravitational field and one low, free to exchange energy, with the clock at the bottom running at 0.8 of the rate of the one at the top. What is conserved is the energy either would deliver to a distant observer, so energy held at the bottom counts for 0.8 of its local value. Across: the share of that conserved energy held at the top. Above: the total entropy of the two gases. Below: the temperature a thermometer in the top cavity reads, as a fraction of one in the bottom cavity. The entropy peaks at a share of 0.339, found by search, and there the top cavity is at 0.800 of the bottom's temperature — the clock-rate ratio exactly. Where the two local temperatures are equal, at a share of 0.556, the entropy is 1.82 per cent below its peak and energy still flows downward, into the deeper cavity. Relativity

The column that is hotter at the bottom

Two bodies in equilibrium have the same temperature — that is what equilibrium was supposed to mean. In a gravitational field it is false. A column left alone until nothing in it changes is warmer at the bottom by exactly the factor by which clocks there run slow, a part in ten million billion per metre on the Earth and more than a per cent across the outer kilometre of a neutron star, and near a black hole's horizon the equilibrium temperature grows without limit.

 Three identical photons in a three-way splitter: some outcomes are forbidden. One photon enters each input of a symmetric three-way splitter, which sends each photon to each output with equal probability. Across: the ten ways three photons can leave, written as how many leave by each output. Bars, for each outcome: photons that can be told apart, identical photons, and identical fermions. Distinguishable photons spread over all ten, as independent coins would. Identical photons never produce 210, 201, 120, 102, 021, 012 — the 6 outcomes whose output labels do not add to a multiple of three — and pile into the rest: 300 with 0.222, 111 with 0.333, 030 with 0.222, 003 with 0.222. Identical fermions leave one per output every time (probability 1.000). Each probability is a sum of amplitudes over the distinct ways to reach the outcome, and each set sums to one. Quantum

The outcomes identical photons refuse

Two identical photons meeting at a beam splitter always leave together, and that one fact carries three more. No classical light can empty the coincidence dip more than halfway, so the depth is a test of what light is; the depth measures how identical two photons are, however they differ; and with three photons in a three-way splitter whole classes of outcome become impossible — the first case of a sum over paths that no known algorithm can evaluate quickly as the photons multiply.

 Three bodies of one mass, one field outside, three fields inside. The gravitational field against distance from the centre, both in units of the body's surface values, for 3 spherical bodies of the same mass and radius: a uniform ball; a dense core under a light mantle; a hollow shell. Outside the surface the three curves are one curve — checked at 1.7 radii by adding up the pull of every mass element in each body, which agrees with the pull of a point of the same mass to better than a part in five hundred. Inside they part: the uniform ball's field falls in a straight line, the layered body's rises to 1.24 times the surface value at the top of its core, and the hollow shell's is zero throughout its cavity. Their moment-of-inertia factors are 0.400 (uniform ball), 0.330 (dense core under a light mantle), 0.551 (hollow shell) — a number that no measurement of the field outside can supply. Electromagnetism

The field outside that cannot find the core

Gauss's law gives the field outside a body from what it encloses, and read backwards it is a limit. A uniform ball, a planet with an iron core and a hollow shell of the same mass have identical gravity everywhere outside. The field fixes a list of numbers — the mass, the flattening, higher moments — and leaves free everything else, including the moment of inertia; the Earth's core was weighed by its wobble, not by its pull.

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