Category: Physics

Post-Christmas book suggestion

This is a must-have for anyone living along the Strait of Canso superport, and for 14 residents of Goldboro, soon to be the site of an LNG terminal. Denizens of HRM may also want to bone up in anticipation of warships soon to be flying off the assembly line at the Irving Shipyard.

HowToAvoidHugeShips

Be sure to read the reviews, especially the third one down.

H/T: Sue, via Jane Kansas

Subverting logic, public health, & the environment

A handful of my neighbours, falsely purporting to repesent the residents of Boularderie Island, noisely oppose a plan to put up a couple of wind turbines at Hillside, Boularderie, near Bras d’Or.

Their arguments deserve scrutiny because of what they reveal about the logic underpinning the anti-wind movement.

In a CBC interview this morning, a spokesperson for the NIMBYists pointed to an elderly lifelong Hillside resident who has grown distraught about the project, and worries it will render her unable to live out her years in the beautiful place she has always called home.

bertrand-russell-200Back in March, an Australian researcher cataloged every illness complaint related to wind turbines in that country and concluded that “wind turbine syndrome” was a disease spread by word of mouth. Its prevalence bears no relationship to the number and proximity of wind turbines, but correlates closely with the intensity of nearby protests against wind farms.

The Boularderie NIMBYists have spent months promoting fear of wind farms, with little success. Now they cite the fear they themselves aroused in a single elderly woman as a reason not to allow the project. This is akin to electroseining every fish in a disputed pond, and then citing the lack of fish as a reason to ban fishing.

In their magnanimity, however, the Boularderie NIMBYists would allow the turbines to go ahead as long as they are erected at least two kilometres from the nearest dwelling (a condition that would preclude their location on Boularderie, and virtually everywhere else in Nova Scotia), and as long as the proponents can prove they will do no harm — in other words, unless they prove, not just a negative, but every conceivable negative.

While it is sometimes possible to prove a specific negative proposition, it is impossible to prove an ill-defined an all-encompassing set of imaginary negatives. We’d have a better chance of disproving the existence of Bertrand Russell’s celestial teapot.

The really sad thing is to see environmentalism—probably the most important -ism of our time—distorted and corrupted to fight trivial or imaginary problems, at the expense of fighting real and pressing environmental threats, like emissions from burning coal.

And where do we burn coal? Why at the Point Aconi Generating Station, barely 10 kilometres upwind from Hillside.

 

Now you see it, now you don’t

asteroid_2012_da14s_near_miss-1409005.2-hpLast Friday, in one of its periodic displays of  nerdy humor, Google displaced its usual search page logo with an animated gif celebrating Earth’s non-collision with Asteroid 2012 DA14, a 50-meter-wide rock that passed within 28,000 meters of our planet—closer than a geostationary communications satellite.

Trouble is, another, much smaller meteor chose the same day to collide with Earth, exploding over the Siberian town of Chelyabinsk Oblast with the force of a half megaton nuclear weapon, and injuring 1,500 people below, mostly from flying glass. Google quickly yanked the animation.

“Out of respect for those injured in the extraordinary meteor shower in Russia earlier today, we have removed today’s doodle from the Google home page,” a spokesperson told ABC News.

Contrarian believes sympathy for the injured can co-exist peacefully with amusement at the doodle.

(To see the animation again, refresh your browser page.)

A virtual heart built from10,000 parallel processors

If you’re anything like me, your conception of the human heart comes from text book line drawings and plastic models in doctors’ offices.

To create a more useful, virtual model, the Barcelona Supercomputing Center used 10,000 parallel processors. The beating heart turns out to be a phenomenally complex electromechanical apparatus—wondrous, and almost spooky, to behold.

The center recently released a video simulation, although based on a rabbit’s heart rather than a human’s.

From Emily Underwood via Alexis Madrigal.

Journal articles:

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/cnm.1494/full

http://www.bsc.es/computer-applications/alya-red-cc

 

A hard thing to see

PHD Comics talks to particle physicist Daniel Whiteson for an exceptionally lucid explanation of the quest for the Higgs boson: what it is, and how the Large Hadron Collider of the  European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) was able to observe it, albeit indirectly.

If the predicted effect  [of the Higgs boson's existence] were huge, it would be very easy to tell the difference between “with Higgs boson” and “not with Higgs boson.” The prediced effect is tiny, so it’s really hard to see. What you need is a huge amount of data. You need to take a gillion collisions before you can see the data. That’s why we run this thing 40 million times a second all day all year.

Or just watch the cartoon. (Hint: Skip the first 40 seconds.)

[Video link]

There’s lots more to learn, says Whiteson:

To make up everyday matter, you only need the electron, the up quark and the down quark. With the up quark and the down quark, you can make a proton, or you can make a neutron. With electrons, protons, and neutrons, you can make any atom. So we only need these three. But we’ve discovered 12 particles. Why do we have them? I don’t know. How many are there? 100? 1,000,000? Only 12? We don’t know.

H/T: Rebecca Rosen

You can push on a string

Our pal Colin May will argue with anyone — even an astrophysicist. He writes:

You can push on a string. Freeze it…then push. Works every time.

Slinky physics (cont.)

In previous installments, we brought you video of the amazing levitating Slinky, and Peter Barss wondered how the Slinky had been calibrated to work exactly this way. I asked physicists to come forth, and they have—not just physicists, but an astrophysicist. (Who better to explain levitation?)

Saint Mary’s grad Jonathan Dursi, now a senior research associate with the Canadian Centre for Astrophysics, furnished this detailed by elegant explanation:

Sometimes you hear that there’s three things taught in first year Engineering (or Physics, or whatever); things fall down; F=Ma; and you can’t push on a string.* It’s exactly those three things at play here, and it’s fun to see how they play out.

“How does this happen without calibrating the force exerted by the energy stored in the “spring” of the slinky to match the force of gravity?”

This calibration is done by the slinky itself, or in fact, any spring (or string, or…)

The spring stretches to the point that the tension in the spring — the force pulling the lowest link up — is exactly equal to the force gravity exerts on it to pull the link down. If those weren’t in balance (say, gravity was pulling more), then the lower parts of the spring would stretch out, and the tension would grow, and they would balance. (Hooke’s law, that the tension in the spring is directly proportional to how far it is stretched: F = k x, larger k means harder to stretch out the spring, is often a good approximation for these sorts of problems; but those are details. As long as the tension increased in any manner as you stretched out the spring, this would play out the same way). If it was the spring force which exceeded that of gravity, the spring would pull back, tension would reduce, and again things would end up calibrated.

This is F=ma; when you’re holding the top of the slinky, the fact that the parts aren’t accelerating upwards or downwards (a=0) means that at every point in the spring, the tension pulling upwards is the same as the gravitational force pulling downwards, so that the net force is zero (F=0, so m g = k x). If you went somewhere with a different gravitational acceleration (g), or placed a weight at the end of the spring, the spring would stretch out to achieve the same balance under the new force — the final length would be different, but the balance would again be met.

That much is true of really anything – an iron rod, or a slinky. But they all behave pretty differently when you hold them and drop them. If you hold up an iron rod vertically, it is also true that the bottom of the rod is being pulled upwards by a tension inside the rod and downwards by gravity, each perfectly balanced: but when you let go of it, the bottom does *not* stay in place until the top catches up!

This is where the “you can’t push on a string” bit comes in. The iron rod has a lot of internal rigidity; just try and squish one. When the top starts falling, not being suspended from above by any tension, it can’t catch up with what’s below it; it pushes what’s below it down with it, and the whole thing falls as a single rigid body.

But back to springs — the slinky *is* carefully built to _not_ be rigid. (It has to be able to flop over itself, after all, to climb down stars, alone or in pairs, and make a slinkity sound).

So imagine a three-link slinky, each link having a very small mass, and the whole thing is held up by the top, and there’s no internal rigidity. Each link is feeling a force of gravity down (m g) and a tension from the spring above it (k x) where x is the distance between links. The spring constant of a slinky, k, is really small — you can pull a slinky apart without exerting a lot of force.

Now let go of the top link. It immediately starts accelerating downwards, under the force of gravity. (The acceleration is g = kx/m). This *doesn’t* start _pushing_ on the bottom link — there’s no way to push! — but it slowly starts reducing the upwards tension on the second link, because the distance between them is reducing.

*But*, because the spring force is so small, the distance between links is large, and we’re accelerating from a full stop, this whole process takes a while. So it slowly starts falling, and as it falls, the tension pulling the second link upwards starts lessening — but only proportional to the amount of that distance the top link has fallen so far. Let’s say it would take the top link 1 second to fall the whole distance to the second link. It will take 0.5 second for it to drop even 1/4 of that distance, lessening the upwards force on that second link by only 25%. It will take 0.7 seconds for it to drop 1/2 of that amount, lessening the upwards force by only 50%. It’s only as the top link gets quite close to the second link that the second link looses most of its upwards support, and itself begins accelerating downwards in earnest, repeating this pattern to the lower link.

So, roughly speaking, the n’th link in the chain doesn’t start moving much until the n-1′st link has caught up to it.

Now imagine a more tightly wound slinky, so that it’s significantly harder to stretch it out. That means when you hold it up, it’s much shorter (harder to stretch it) so there’s a much smaller distance between links. There’s still no internal rigidity (say), but this whole process happens much faster, because the distance between links is much faster; the bottom “levitates” still but for a much briefer period of time. Keep tightening your mental slinky, and it happens faster and faster and faster until there’s no obvious moment of levitation at all.

This is what is meant by the “bulltwaddle” about information transfer and signals. The “We’re falling now” signal is sent from one link to the next by removing the upwards tension force. That signal travels at the same speed as the wave of now-collapsed top links moving downwards.

Quite generally, a wave travels at a speed proportional to the square root of the force which generates the wave (here, the spring tension) divided by the density of the medium. This is what sets the speed of sound in water or air (the square root of pressure over density); the speed at which a guitar string vibrates when plucked (square root of string tension over string mass), ripples on a pond, etc. Here, the wave travels at a speed proportional to the square root of the tension (k x) over the density of the spring (m/x). Because the spring adjusts itself initially so that k x = m g, this means that the wave speed is proportional to g * sqrt( m / k ), and it takes a time x over velocity, or sqrt(m/k), for the signal to travel. The looser the spring (small k), the longer it takes this signal to travel downwards. In a tighter slinky (larger k) this signal speed will get faster and faster and there will be a briefer and briefer moment of “levitation.”

(I will choose to overlook those cautious quotes Dr. Dursi placed around “levitation.”)

A reader who styles himself “Krackalakin” offers both a shorter explanation…

Consider that by holding a suspended Slinky by one end, you are holding a spring in tension… The force of gravity is the tension, or what is forcing the spring to extend and is directly proportional to that of the force puling it down – gravty! So there is no collusion or “transfer of secrets” that happen.

…and a link to an MIT classroom video wherein Prof. Walter Lewin explains the underlying principle.

The spring stuff starts about 1:30 in, but if you watch the whole thing, you can imagine what it would be like to be an MIT student.

Much obliged to both readers.

- – -

* I’ve heard this rule applied in a different context, but this is a family blog.

Calling all physicists

Yesterday, I posted a slo-mo  video of a Slinkeys, which, when dropped while their springs were completely distended, appeared to levitate momentarily, until their springs had time to re-compress, whereupon they began their expected downward trajectory. My pal Peter Barss (who is descended from a real pirate, kids) has a question “for anyone who remembers their physics better than I do.”

During most of the its fall, the bottom of the Slinky remains absolutely motionless, which, to my mind, means the gravitational force acting on the slinky pulling it down is exactly balanced by the force compressing the bottom of the slinky upwards. How does this happen without calibrating the force exerted by the energy stored in the “spring” of the slinky to match the force of gravity? It seems to me that the two forces would have to be precisely balanced for the bottom of the slinky to remain motionless while the top collapses.

I wondered the same thing. Is that precise balance an inherent quality of a Slinky—the same quality that enables it to walk down stairs? Some hints in this article at Phys.Org, a web-based science, research and technology news service, and in this paper by UBC physics prof Bill Unrah. Turns out the late, great Martin Gardner kicked off the discussion a dozen years ago. [Animated gif via KnowledgeForDummies.]

The amazing levitating Slinky

All the actions is in the first 140 seconds.The remaining four minutes of explanation, involving claims of “information transfer” and “signals,” strike me as, frankly, bulltwaddle. Much more plausible is the explanation furnished by Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish, which in turn came from an even more thorough explanation on Rhett Allain’s blog at Wired.com.

What you’re seeing:

If a slinky is hung by one end such that its own weight extends it, and that slinky is then released, the lower end of the slinky will not fall or rise, but will remain briefly suspended in air as though levitating.

Explained:

[T]he best thing is to think of the slinky as a system. When it is let [go], the center of mass certainly accelerates downward (like any falling object). However, at the same time, the slinky (spring) is compressing to its relaxed length. This means that top and bottom are accelerating towards the center of mass of the slinky at the same time the center of mass is accelerating downward.

H/T: JHE