The End of Infinity

Everything that has a beginning has an end. We know how the universe began, and how old it is (some 13.7 billion years), but we don’t know the end. Or do we? To know the end of the universe is to acquire enough data to compute a constant known as Omega.

            Envision a rocket leaving the planet, there is a certain speed that it must be going to escape the gravity of the Earth, we call this escape velocity. Omega works off a very similar idea. If the big bang imparted enough velocity to the galaxies (escape velocity if you will) then the universe will continue to expand ever onwards. However, if the galaxies are not fast enough, then think of them as a rocket that has not achieved escape velocity. Eventually gravity would pull everything back to the way it all was in the beginning, what scientists call “the big crunch”, the converse of the big bang.

            Whatever fate awaits the universe one day can be determined by the numerical value of Omega. Omega is the total amount of matter in the universe divided by the minimum amount of matter needed to create the big crunch. If Omega is greater than 1, the galaxies will fly apart forever, and if it is less, then someday the big crunch will happen. Knowing that there are about five hydrogen atoms per cubic meter of space, our best guess is that Omega is valued somewhere between .98 and 1.1 so the fate of the universe remains a mystery.  

Alchemy

The first thing you need to understand about alchemy, just to clarify, before we go any further, is that alchemy in it’s classic sense is at best a pseudoscience. As entertaining as the idea of turning common metals into gold is, the field eventually evolved into chemistry with the help of Antoine Lavoisier (and many others) in the 18^th century. That’s not to say that the endeavors of alchemy were all for naught.

            There is a process, called Nuclear Transmutation, in which atoms of one element can be changed into that of another by ‘transmutation’. This can occur in a nuclear reaction or through radioactive decay. Both of these reactions can happen in the natural and experimental world, but more on that later.

            The term transmutation dates back to the philosopher’s stone (which turns base metals into gold), but by 1720, not a single respectable figure pursued classical alchemy. Nuclear Transmutation was first applied to modern science when Ernest Rutherford and Frederick Soddy observed that radioactive Thorium decayed into Radium in 1901. As the story goes, Soddy jumped up screaming: "Rutherford, this is transmutation!" And Rutherford snapped back, "For Christ's sake, Soddy, don't call it transmutation! They'll have our heads off as alchemists."

Years later, in 1932, the first fully artificial nuclear reaction was achieved by Rutherford’s colleagues John Cockcroft and Ernest Walton by using accelerated protons to split lithium. This was called “splitting the atom”, the modern term “Nuclear Fission” came along some time later.

It was transpired that under the principles of Nuclear Transmutation, it would be far easier to turn gold into lead than the converse. Experimentation has successfully achieved alchemists’ and King Midas’ dreams (some say as early as 1951), and found a reaction that yields gold, but the expense far outweighs any gain to be had.

The Straight Dope

The Straight Dope is a website that is one of the many inspirations to this blog with a very similar premise. I have the utmost regard for the talents of the author, Cecil Adams and I wanted to post one of my favorite of his works. I might talk about the subject another day in a less poetic sense even though I think he explained it far better than I can. But for now, I present to you: The Story of Schrodinger's Cat (an epic poem), by Cecil Adams.

Dear Cecil:

Cecil, you're my final hope
Of finding out the true Straight Dope
For I have been reading of Schroedinger's cat
But none of my cats are at all like that.
This unusual animal (so it is said)
Is simultaneously live and dead!
What I don't understand is just why he
Can't be one or other, unquestionably.
My future now hangs in between eigenstates.
In one I'm enlightened, the other I ain't.
If you understand, Cecil, then show me the way
And rescue my psyche from quantum decay.
But if this queer thing has perplexed even you,
Then I will and won't see you in Schroedinger's zoo.

— Randy F., Chicago

Cecil replies:

Schroedinger, Erwin! Professor of physics!
Wrote daring equations! Confounded his critics!
(Not bad, eh? Don't worry. This part of the verse
Starts off pretty good, but it gets a lot worse.)
Win saw that the theory that Newton'd invented
By Einstein's discov'ries had been badly dented.
What now? wailed his colleagues. Said Erwin, "Don't panic,
No grease monkey I, but a quantum mechanic.
Consider electrons. Now, these teeny articles
Are sometimes like waves, and then sometimes like particles.
If that's not confusing, the nuclear dance
Of electrons and suchlike is governed by chance!
No sweat, though — my theory permits us to judge
Where some of 'em is and the rest of 'em was."
Not everyone bought this. It threatened to wreck
The comforting linkage of cause and effect.
E'en Einstein had doubts, and so Schroedinger tried
To tell him what quantum mechanics implied.
Said Win to Al, "Brother, suppose we've a cat,
And inside a tube we have put that cat at —
Along with a solitaire deck and some Fritos,
A bottle of Night Train, a couple mosquitoes
(Or something else rhyming) and, oh, if you got 'em,
One vial prussic acid, one decaying ottom
Or atom — whatever — but when it emits,
A trigger device blasts the vial into bits
Which snuffs our poor kitty. The odds of this crime
Are 50 to 50 per hour each time.
The cylinder's sealed. The hour's passed away. Is
Our pussy still purring — or pushing up daisies?
Now, you'd say the cat either lives or it don't
But quantum mechanics is stubborn and won't.
Statistically speaking, the cat (goes the joke),
Is half a cat breathing and half a cat croaked.
To some this may seem a ridiculous split,
But quantum mechanics must answer, "Tough shit.
We may not know much, but one thing's fo' sho':
There's things in the cosmos that we cannot know.
Shine light on electrons — you'll cause them to swerve.
The act of observing disturbs the observed —
Which ruins your test. But then if there's no testing
To see if a particle's moving or resting
Why try to conjecture? Pure useless endeavor!
We know probability — certainty, never.'
The effect of this notion? I very much fear
'Twill make doubtful all things that were formerly clear.
Till soon the cat doctors will say in reports,
"We've just flipped a coin and we've learned he's a corpse."'
So saith Herr Erwin. Quoth Albert, "You're nuts.
God doesn't play dice with the universe, putz.
I'll prove it!" he said, and the Lord knows he tried —
In vain — until fin'ly he more or less died.
Win spoke at the funeral: "Listen, dear friends,
Sweet Al was my buddy. I must make amends.
Though he doubted my theory, I'll say of this saint:
Ten-to-one he's in heaven — but five bucks says he ain't."

— Cecil Adams

Colors

The average human eye can differentiate 10,000,000 different colors. I don’t personally care for that, 30,000 shades of white, or 50 shades of gray is too damn many. I’m a simple man, and will only write about colors that can be expressed in one word, like blue.

            For our purposes, light is a wave (that’s up for debate, but for the purpose of explaining this easily, it’s a wave). The visible light spectrum ranges from 390 (red) to 750 (violet) nanometers, wavelengths outside this range include radio waves and X-rays. An object is whatever color it doesn’t absorb. For example, blue paint is blue because when illuminated with typical white light it absorbs every wavelength except blue, which is diffused into our eyes. However that’s not the case for every color in the world. The sky, for example, surely you’re all familiar with it. The sky is “blue” because light from the sun encounters air molecules. Because of the size of these molecules, light shorter wavelengths (like blue light) crash into the particles and scatter, which is why we see blue when we look at the sky away from the sun. Without the air molecules, that space (outer space) would appear black. This phenomenon is known as interference.

            Back when I studied optical physics, my teacher spent an unhealthy amount of time going over mirrors for the AP test, so I think they’re worthy to talk about. A perfect mirror (in theory) reflects all light. Since they don’t absorb any light (in theory) a mirror is technically “white”. More accurately, the mirror becomes whatever color it’s held up to. If you were to hold it up to a green wall, the mirror would be green. And if you were to stare at your gorgeous self in a mirror, it would become “you colored”. So a mirror is technically an infinitely configurable shade of white, “smart white” as astronomers call it. We only perceive them as silver because they’re made of silvery materials, like… well, silver.