Deja Vu All Over Again?

I ran across a bit touting some new lamp, called GravityLight, which would give you “free” lighting — all you have to do is lift a weight. My first reaction was a flashback to the Gravia lamp, which I critiqued in the first few months of this blog. Turns out the Gravia was a concept piece that had over-reached the light output and duration that was possible — it was only capable of putting out a few tens of milliWatts to generate the light, well short of what was promised.

But the GravityLight appears to be the real deal, and it’s being funded on indiegogo as a replacement for kerosene lamps in areas without a power grid. The difference? It promises less light over a shorter time, plus a slight increase in efficiency of LEDs, and that’s all the difference you need. Instead of 800 lumens of light, sent in all directions, you get a beam from the LEDs. If you drop the output from 4*pi steradians (i.e. all directions) to, say, 1/8 of that, it’s the equivalent of just 100 lumens, and super-bright LEDs have a luminous efficacy of about 100 lumens per Watt, meaning you only need ~1 Watt output for such a light.

The previous system could only supply ~17 milliWatts of power, but that was because the energy was promised over a 4-hour period. If you release the same energy over a shorter time, the power is greater. A 20kg mass raised a little over a meter is 200 Joules, so that’s a Watt for 200 seconds. If you lower the light output, via dimming or making a narrower beam, or you use a greater mass and/or raise it higher, it will last longer.

A Prickly Problem

What Porcupines Can Teach Engineers

It doesn’t seem to make sense that a barbed quill would go in more easily than a smooth one. But Karp and his colleagues discovered that the barbs work just like the bumps on a serrated knife. The knife’s wavy blade concentrates force at the tips of the teeth, requiring less power overall to cut soft foods like tomatoes or bread.

Knife makers have known that for a long time. Now it turns out that North American porcupines know it, too.

Get Used to Disappointment

Alan Alda asks scientists to explain: What’s time?

The actor known for portraying Capt. Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce on the TV show “MASH” and more recent guest shots on NBC’s “30 Rock” is also a visiting professor at New York’s Stony Brook University school of journalism and a founder of the school’s Center for Communicating Science.

The center is sponsoring an international contest for scientists asking them to explain in terms a sixth-grader could understand: “What is time?”

This is the followup to last years so-called “flame challenge”, in which he solicited explanations about what a flame is. But there’s a problem: in asking “what is a flame?” the real question is about what is going on in the process of combustion — it’s an analysis of a physical process, and people were asked to explain that. The winner did an excellent job, though Feynman’s pretty good, too.

However, asking “What is time?” is a different beast. I’m guessing they won’t be satisfied with the stock answers of “time is what is measured by a clock” or “time is what keeps everything from happening at once”. However, unlike fire, time isn’t a process that can be broken down into simpler parts, at least as far as we currently know — it’s much more fundamental than that. (It might be an emergent phenomenon, but we haven’t sussed that out to the point where anyone can offer anything as a reasonable answer.) Which puts the question squarely in the realm of philosophy — metaphysics — rather than science.

As I see it, the problem is similar to this: Take a word and try and define it, using only words that are already defined. You can’t. For each word you use in a definition, you need to define that word, and in each definition, you need to define all those words. You end up with circular definitions, so you have to rely on a collection of words that we simply accept because we inherently know what they mean or we give examples rather than a definition. (This is vaguely reminiscent of Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem — that within a mathematical theory there will be certain arithmetic truths which cannot be proven. Perhaps there is a formal analogue for languages, which would be beyond my experience.) We have some concepts in physics which are fundamental, and it limits what we can do, explanation-wise. We can describe how time behaves and how we can measure it, and use it as a basis of explaining other things, but not what time is.

There is another answer, though it’s still consistent with the thread’s title. Time is a bookkeeping convenience, like other concepts we have (such as momentum and energy). We notice that it has a certain predictable behavior and that it’s useful, so we exploit those properties. In this case, that events happen in a certain order. It matters, for instance, if a piano drops out of the sky and onto a location where you have been standing, if you are there (or somewhere else) when the piano hits. You can be where the piano hit, you can be at home, you can be at the store, you can be at work or school, but all of those are not simultaneously true — there is some orthogonal coordinate that can keep those separate and helps us keep track of what’s going on. Meaning that time helps us solve kinematics problems and other problems in physics.

This is not an argument that time is illusory — it’s real, as far as I’m concerned, but it’s conceptual rather than physical. Which puts it in the same category as momentum and energy and even length. Funny thing, though, is people generally don’t as the same kind of deep question, “What is length?” They can see it, rather than have some other perception, and that seems to be enough, just like the foundational words that make up a language that can’t truly be defined.

Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps someone out there will rise to the challenge and really be able to explain what time is. But if they can’t, I won’t be disappointed.

As Old as Methuselah

The vanishing groves

Bristlecone pines, dendrochronology, and climate change.

The chronology tells a familiar tale about what is happening to the Earth’s climate. In 2005, a researcher from Arizona’s tree-ring lab named Matthew Salzer noticed an unusual trend in the most recent stretch of bristlecone tree rings. Over the past half century, bristlecones near the tree line have grown faster than in any 50-year period of the past 3,700 years, a shift that portends ‘an environmental change unprecedented in millennia,’ according to Salzer. As temperatures along the peaks warm, the bristlecones are fattening up, adding thick rings in every spring season. Initially there was hope that the trend was local to the White Mountains, but Salzer and his colleagues have found the same string of fat rings — the same warming — in three separate bristlecone habitats in the western US. This might sound like good news for the trees, but it most assuredly is not. Indeed, the thick new rings might be a prophecy of sorts, a foretelling of the trees’ extinction.

Science Gone Bad

A letter to the TEDx community on TEDx and bad science

Lots of good stuff here, on some warning signs of dubious science, stemming from some suspect talks at TEDx. It’s directed toward medical/life sciences material, but there are many points that apply to science in general. This is related to an ongoing issue in journalism — whether your task is to just offer material, or whether you have a responsibility to vet the material. I’m of the latter opinion — I think that a “let the audience decide” or “I need to present both sides” approach is a cop-out.

There’s also a list of behavior that one might see if one declines to give a platform to someone peddling the dubious science, and to me, this is old hat. The claims of endangering freedom of speech/bias/suppression and the assertion that they hold a special insight (often despite no formal training) are pretty standard crackpot positions.