National Thermometer

I saw parts of National Treasure again recently; I’ve pointed out before that Riley should have used an IR laser to set of the heat sensor in the plan to steal the Declaration. One of the other things about that sequence that has nagged was how fast the thermometer shot up when he zapped it. I can buy that the sensor would trip, since there is a lot less thermal mass, but what about a glass thermometer? The issue is how much thermal mass there is — temperature will respond quickly if there is a small combination of specific heat capacity and mass. I decided to look into this and do a quick experiment.

I grabbed a thermocouple, which I thought would respond fairly quickly: you have a small bead of your dissimilar metals, with a volume of a few mm^3, and since the density of the materials is going to be a little less than 10 mg/mm^3, we’re talking about a few milligrams of material that has a specific heat capacity of around a Joule/gram-Kelvin, so a several Milliwatt laser should be able to raise the temperature in short order. It’s going to depend on how much of the light that hits gets absorbed vs reflected. I have a ~20mW green laser that also emits an unknown amount of IR (the 532 nm is frequency-doubled 1064 nm light, derived from an 808 nm pump, which imperfectly filtered. This can be a safety issue, as explained in this NIST pdf tech note). If we can get 10 mW onto a target with a heat capacity of 10 mJ/K and absorbing 10% of the light, that’s a Kelvin every 10 seconds, or a degree Fahrenheit every 5 seconds.

The response was impressive. In about 30 seconds the indicated temperature jumped almost 7ºF (I used ºF since that’s the scale on the thermometer), which is not as fast as it might have been, but the beam is larger than the target and is well in the ballpark of my prediction and more than enough for what was happening in the movie with a sensor that may have even less thermal mass.

The alcohol thermometer is much more massive. Even though you want to heat up the alcohol, the surrounding glass in contact with it has to heat up as well, so now we’re talking grams of material, so the heating may be slowed by a factor of 100-1000. I shined the laser on the bulb for a full minute and only saw a rise of between 0.5 and 1 ºF. However, confounding this is that the alcohol in my thermometer was without coloring, as opposed to the red I recall in the movie (it was a fairly old device, so maybe it was red at one time, but red dyes have a way of breaking down). Having dye in the alcohol would make it heat up faster. I’m not convinced that it would have risen as far or as fast as was in the movie, but it’s not entirely implausible either.

Death Star Economics Redux

The Death Star Is a Surprisingly Cost-Effective Weapons System

[H]ow big is the Republic/Empire? There’s probably a canonical figure somewhere, but I don’t know where. So I’ll just pull a number out of my ass based on the apparent size of the Old Senate, and figure a bare minimum of 10,000 planets. That means the Death Star requires .03 percent of the GDP of each planet in the Republic/Empire annually. By comparison, this is the equivalent of about $5 billion per year in the current-day United States.

Went there first, I did, but not in as much detail.

You Will Not Win This Bid

How Much Would it Cost to build the Death Star?

We began by looking at how big the Death Star is. The first one is reported to be 140km in diameter and it sure looks like it’s made of steel. But how much steel? We decided to model the Death Star as having a similar density in steel as a modern warship. After all, they’re both essentially floating weapons platforms so that seems reasonable.

What? A battleship has to support its own weight and float in the water. That puts an upper an lower bound on its average density. A Death Star is assembled in space. The only thing it has to support itself against is gravitational collapse, and you have sci-fi technologies like tractor beams and force fields and hyperspace travel.

[A]t today’s rate of steel production (1.3 billion tonnes annually), it would take 833,315 years to produce enough steel to begin work. So once someone notices what you’re up to, you have to fend them off for 800 millennia before you have a chance to fight back.

This is the Galactic Republic/Empire, not one planet! I don’t know if there’s a definitive source, but indications are that there are more than a million member worlds with many times that number of colonies.

Oh, and the cost of the steel alone? At 2012 prices, about $852,000,000,000,000,000. Or roughly 13,000 times the world’s GDP

But, as we see, less steel and many, many planets from which to draw resources.

Wazzap?!

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Reminiscent of my navy days; when the enlisted students would walk around outdoors they had an uncanny knack of separating themselves into individuals or small groups, and you would have to return their salutes as you/they walked by. They only called me “Sir” though, not “My Lord”.

The End

The Final Image

Final images from well-known movies. I think it’s easier when you clearly see faces, especially if it’s multiple actors — easier to narrow down the movie, even if you don’t recognize it as the final scene.

Star Power Trajectories

Slate‘s Hollywood Career-O-Matic

A visitor to the Rotten Tomatoes site can check out the data for individual Hollywood careers—that’s how Tabarrok came up with the Shyamalan graph—but there’s no easy way for users to measure industrywide trends or to compare different actors and directors side-by-side. To that end, Rotten Tomatoes kindly let Slate analyze the scores in its enormous database and create an interactive tool so our readers might do the same.

It only works from 1985 on, on the hypothesis that people tend not to review old clunkers as often as the classics, which results in sampling bias and this is what skews the older results.

As a general trend, actors seem to be all over the place, score-wise, but directors tend to get better over time.