I believe two major events contributed to my life-long interest in science and trying to understand the world around me. The first event was my initial glimpse of Saturn through a telescope, and the second event was the day Mt. St. Helens blew her top off. Both of these events took place during the phase when children ask too many questions, and witnessing these events turned my questions into quests. I still ask too many questions. My daily life is a quest to answer as many as I can. As for the rest: I explore the possibilities.

I remember the day as well as I remember yesterday, perhaps even better. On Sunday morning of May 18th, 1980, the world around me changed. Some heard an explosion like dynamite. Others heard a rumble. The echos of the news came to everyone. All eyes turned to the mountain. Her fury released in a blast sending ash rising into the sky. A question turned into a jingle echoed over and over again during the following months: “Where were you when the mountain blew?” I was having breakfast, but it was not long before the family piled into the car and sought out a viewpoint where we watched the world change. Over the next few years we visited bridges destroyed by mudslides and a land transformed. My first visit inside the blast zone was even more ominous and breathtaking.

Last year, I posted pictures of the blast zone showing the change. Here are two pictures from the same vantage.

1983 Photo by Jerry Shrock

Today, as I write this blog post, the mountain sits just beyond a ridge outside my window. I look at her as if all the answers to the mysteries of the universe might erupt from her top. Certainly not, but she holds some of them. And a fun place to start looking.

See National Geographic “Mountain Transformed.”

Visit Mt. St. Helens: Visitors Centers

Part of the What Time? series, an exploration in science fiction.

The Twins Paradox is less of a paradox and more of a time puzzle originally stated by Einstein.

Puzzling Twins

Alice and Angela are identical twins born seconds apart on a shiny afternoon. Growing up, they do everything together including dressing alike. Their mother insists they wear different colored bows in their hair, Alice in a red bow and Angela in pink. Teachers and some of their friends depend on the bows for identification, but their closest friends can tell them apart most of the time. Sometimes they like switching bows and pretending to be the other, especially when taking exams. Angela is the whiz at math.

At the age of seventeen years, Angela announces she intends on traveling to nearby Barnard’s Star as part of her astronomy studies. The university has limited room and cannot include another member on the field trip spanning several years. Although the ship can accelerate to near the speed of light, it must spend several years at the constant velocity before decelerating at the destination where the team will spend two years observing. Alice argues that it would tear them apart taking such a long trip. How could they live without each other? Alice tries and tries, but Angela has made up her mind. Alice waves goodbye to her sister and watches the craft depart the space station.

Thirty-nine years later, red bow long lost, Alice takes her two grown children to meet her sister at the space station. Angela steps off the spacecraft wearing the pink bow in her hair. Angela appears younger than Alice’s own children. Angela insists she has only been away for twelve years, not thirty-nine, and she argues with her much older twin.

What happened?

Short Answer

Angela’s trip experiences a time-dilation effect. From my “Quick, Dirty Relativity Review,” we know that time is relative to the observer verified using highly accurate clocks. One consequence is that observers moving at significantly different rates will appear to age differently. Both twins age normally and experience the normal passing of time. Since both twins move at significantly different rates, their frames of time relative to each other differ. Time is relative to the observer.

If motion is relative than why isn’t the time-dilation effect relative?

The Paradox

From Alice’s frame of reference, Angela is moving and her time appears slowed by time dilation. From Angela’s frame of reference, Alice is the one moving. (Recall that a reference frame tells us that science experiments gives the same results in uniform motion as if we were sitting still. This doesn’t apply to accelerating objects.) Why isn’t time-dilation effect relative? The answer is the accelerating part of the trip. Einstein brought up this twins puzzle pointing out it isn’t really a paradox. Acceleration isn’t relative.

Math

Assuming the space craft can accelerate without squishing the passengers to death, let’s try using numbers to see how this works. Angela spent three years at Barnard’s Star, the same in Alice’s reference since Barnard’s Star system and Earth are nearly relative to each other in motion. Travel time for Angela is nine years (four and half each way) while the trip from Alice’s reference is thirty-six years (thirty-nine minus three.) Disregarding time for acceleration, we can use the following formula to find out how fast Angela’s ship travels where td is time dilation and v/c is percentage speed of light:

The time dilation (td) from Angela to Alice is 9 / 36 or 0.25. This gives us a velocity of 0.9825% speed of light. Mighty fast! Getting up to that speed safely would actually take a long time without some kind of anti-squishing technology!

Part of the What Time? series, an exploration in science fiction.

Let us generalize a moment.

The Background

In the 17th century industrialization sprouted leading to 19th century railroad domination linking commerce across the map. Scheduling trains increased the need for time zones. Higher precision clocks allowed ships improved navigation across the sea. Clocks became important including today as we schedule our every minute.

Before the machinery took over, physicist Isaac Newton introduced the Laws of Motion. According to our science definitions, “laws” explain observations without understanding why. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. An object in motion stays in motion until an outside force acts upon it. The Law of Gravity predicted planetary positions and falling objects. These beautiful laws allowed us to build wonderful things. It also gave us a sense of precision and logic.

The Stage

Newtonian physics (classical,) became common sense. (Not for everyone, some students still get confused.) Newton’s math and physics allows us to predict the future, where a cannon ball will land, planetary positions, or the moon phase on a given date. Recording the past to help predict the future entrenched us in the idea that the past is set and the future is uncertain, but predictable with enough data (from the past.) Law-like principles ruled.

With increased precision, more trains, clocks ticking away in (near) synchronous, the drum beat of time hardened “common sense” time into our lives.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

“Common Sense” Time

I call this, Newtonian Time. It isn’t Newton’s fault. I don’t blame him. For Westerners, the roots of “common sense” time was already there. I call it Newtonian Time because it fits with Newtonian Physics, or classical physics.

Time is an assumption, and in this perception, time passes at a constant beat.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

All of classical physics depends on this constant beat along with the assumption that the past is unchangeable and the future is predictable. This leads to the impression of time’s arrow. We feel pulled down the river of our lives unable to escape the flow or stop the beating drum, like our hearts, pounding away until the end.

Under this perception of time we assume time is the same for everyone.

Even in Newton’s day, scientists noticed problems. One glaring puzzle keeping astronomers curious for years: the planet Mercury refused prediction under classical physics. That is another story: Relativity.

Learn More

• About Time by Paul Davies, “Chapter 1: A Very Brief History of Time”

What Time? series posts on 2nd and 4th Tuesday of the month.

These are foundational definitions for understanding science and science fiction stated here for the non-scientist. The most important concept here is that science theories are not facts.

Science

Science tries to explain the world around us in a way that we can understand. This applies primarily to phenomenon we observe indirectly like earthquakes and micro-organisms. We feel the earth quake, but we can’t directly observe the cause. Micro-organisms require instruments to observe.

Fact

A fact is an agreed upon definition, a recordable measurement, or a basic observation of our world. The definition of meter is a fact. The elevation of Mt. Everest is a fact.

Law

A scientific law generalizes observations to make predictions without explaining why. Newton’s Law of Gravity predicts falling objects and planetary motion, but does not tell us why.

Hypotheses

Like a guess. A scientist makes a guess based on observations before writing a theory.

Theory

A scientific theory is like a story trying to explain the observable science. A theory explains why. This story must include verifiable predictions. After predictions hold true, the theory is accepted. It’s still not a fact. Theories change as more knowledge accumulates.

Reality

We observe real things directly or indirectly using our senses. We feel earthquakes indirectly through direct shaking. We see galaxies indirectly using a telescope. This means that before telescopes, galaxies weren’t real. Long ago micro-organisms weren’t part of our reality.

One may argue micro-organisms and galaxies were always there. Sorry, they weren’t real then. This is the definition intended in posts on this blog.

Science Fiction

Science is crucial to the plot of a science fiction story. The science may be nearly fantastical, loosely implied, but it should be based on science and important to the story.

Simply including spaceships does not make it science fiction.

Star Wars is a fantasy or space opera. Some include space opera and other sub-categories under the sci-fi genre, but may also fall within the realm of fantasy, depending on how you look at it.

Here at DracoTorre.com, science fiction must include science as part of the plot. Otherwise, we may call it fantasy even if the fantasy contains science, which we could call science-fantasy.

Learn more: Pandora’s Hope: Essays on the Realities of Science Studies by Bruno Latour.

Magenta/Green 3D Chess Photo

Red/Cyan 3D Bike Photo

Use Magenta/Green 3D glasses to view the chess photograph or Red/Cyan 3D glasses to view the bike photograph. Click on an image for a larger view. 3D quality depends on your monitor’s color settings. The chess photo ghosts a little on my Macbook screen, but appears perfect on an external LCD.

Items list

1. Digital camera
2. Tripod for digital camera
3. Photo software supporting layers such as Photoshop or Gimp
4. An interesting subject for 3D
5. Red/Cyan or Green/Magenta 3D glasses.

You can find 3D glasses with home movies such as Coraline, with activity books for children, or make your own by purchasing supplies at an art store. Gimp is available for free, which the instructions here will follow. Software that tries to do the modifications for you exist, but doing it yourself allows greater control over the results.

The Science: How do 3D glasses work?

Each lens has different complimentary colors acting as a filter for each eye. Colors are complimentary when the combined color is neutral such as red and cyan. Two photos taken from slightly different vantage points (like your eyes) aimed at the same point are colorized opposite of the respective colored lens. For example, my green/magenta glasses has green over the left eye so the photo taken on the right side needs to be colorized green. The green lens filters out the green portions of the image so the left eye does not see the right vantage point. You could also put the two photos side-by-side, left image on the right, and cross your eyes. The 3D glasses make it easier looking at a single combined image. Other 3D glasses technology includes shutter glasses viewing flashing images and scanning glasses for viewing images stacked in narrow lines. All work on the same principle, one lens blocks what the other eye should see. The rest is depth perception.

Step 1: Take two photographs

Mount the camera on the tripod and take a picture of your immobile subject. If outside, make sure the wind is not blowing the leaves around. Keep track of the position and the aim using the lens guides. If your lens has a center marker, note its exact position. When planning the shot, you might choose to aim at some distinguishing mark on your subject. In the chess image, I aimed my center mark at the groove in the dark knight at the center. Note this photograph as the right image (or left if you find it easier to move right.)

The distance you move the camera depends on how far away your subject is and the size of your lens. Move too much and the subject may pop out, the subject appears nearly 2D floating above a 2D background, or the image may become disorienting. For my chess picture, I used an 18-55mm lens positioned about four feet away, and I moved the camera about a half of an inch. For the bicycle, positioned thirty feet away, I moved two inches. The bicycle appears to pop out a little, so a smaller distance might have been better. Move the camera, perpendicular to the subject, and aim for the same position on your subject. Take the photograph and note it is the opposite eye to the first.

Step 2: Load the two pictures into photo editing software

Load both photographs. Select the entire image of one photograph, copy, and paste into a new layer in the other image. Label the layers according to the eye (left or right.)

Step 3: Modify the images

The goal is to colorize each image the opposite of your lenses. For Green/Magenta 3D glasses with green over the left eye, colorize the right image green by editing the color balance for all ranges (shadows, mid-tones, highlights.) There are two methods to colorize, one by adjusting the color balance and the other by editing the color channels. Try both and see which works best.

Colorize by adjusting color blance: In Gimp, find the color balance window under Colors on the menubar. Uncheck Preserve Luminosity checkbox. Move the Magenta-Green slider all the way to the Green for each of the three ranges. Do the same process to the image labeled, right, but move the slider all the way to the magenta. You should have two images appearing similar to the green and magenta images in the layers image below.

Colorize by editing color channels: Some software forces global color channels for all layers requiring a screenshot and paste into a new project file. Software that allows independent layer channel editing allows edits within a single file.

Layers Panel in Gimp

For Red/Cyan glasses, turn off the blue and green channels for the red image and turn off only the red channel for the cyan image. Take screenshots of each and paste into layers of a new image.

Now adjust the opacity of the top layer to 50%. This allows you to see through to the lower image. In Gimp, find the opacity slider control in the Layers window as seen in the screenshot at right. For brighter results, you may adjust both layers to 50% with a white background. Notice the colors of the individual layers. Try looking at the layers panel with your 3D glasses, closing one eye at a time. The green image should be nearly invisible peering through the green lens and closer to normal color peering through the magenta lens.

If you see ghosting, you may need to adjust the colors. Try both colorizing methods to see which works best for you.

Step 4: Save output

You may want to save the project in the default format for editing. Try your 3D glasses to find any problems. To share with others on the web, export the picture to JPG keeping the quality as high as possible. Too low quality (too much compression) will degrade the 3D appearance. For an uncompressed image, save in TGA format.

Put on your 3D glasses and enjoy. Share your 3D images on Flickr, Twitpic, or on your own page. And tell us where to find your creations in the comments.

In “Remember the Volcano,” I share the story of my first Mt. St. Helens blast area visit. Here are two of the photos compared to recent photos of the same locations. Notice the growth after 26 years.

1983 Photo by Jerry Shrock

2009 Photo by Jerry Shrock

The above photos look eastward at Mt. Adams where the 2009 photo is from a lower vantage point. In 1983, there was a stand serving hot-dogs and cool drinks for those hiking up the unfinished road to view the volcano. Now there is a paved parking area. Bring your own hot-dogs.

Photo by Jerry Shrock

2009 Photo by Jerry Shrock

These photos were taken along Road 99 seen as a black ribbon in the above photos. The road continues to the left passing this viewpoint on the way to Windy Ridge.

I recall my mother stating it would take twenty years for the land to recover. That seems like a very long time to a ten year-old. Looking back, the passing years seem like a brief moment. The forest agrees. Nearly thirty years after the blast, new growth follows the creeks, while the ridges appear much the same. Loggers cleared many areas, but left some sections untouched for nature to take care of all on her own.

When visiting Mt. St. Helens bring hiking gear, camera, and curiosity. And hot-dogs. Please visit Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument website for more information.

Mt. Adams in background. Photo by Jerry Shrock 1983

Lush greenery, fir and pine floated on the breeze. The paved road, needles speckling the edge, snaked through the forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy between openings, bright glimpses of the mountain range. Signposts reminded drivers of the CB channel where the truck operators called out their position by mile post marker. A truck rumbled around the corner carrying a load of gray logs.

The forest suddenly gave way to desolation leaving behind a wall of trees. The ridges and valleys were gray, a lifeless land  of fallen trees ripped free of bark. The gray sticks slept in lines fanned out away from the crater beyond the hillside. The fresh asphalt was a ribbon of gleaming black hanging onto the side of the ridge.

Photo by Jerry Shrock

At the road block, visitors parked in a gravel lot. A wreck of a car, smashed and burnt, attracted attention. “A miner’s car,” the ranger said. He told the tale of the car landing in the spot, thrown from a mine a few miles away. The volcano hid behind a ridge, but the fallen timber gave her position away. Each log, even the ones on the backside of the ridge, pointed the direction to the crater. The road continued, a dusty hike winding over Independence Ridge where a trailer served cool drinks to hikers taking in the view.

Photo by Jerry Shrock

Rising dust clouds marked log trucks following the dirt road beneath the volcano. After resting feet, the hikers trudged on up the hill pausing for rumbling trucks. A trail led to a ridge, a view into the crater and the surrounding destruction.

Onlookers peered around in silence while they imagined the blast, the searing heat rolling over the ridges followed by a rain of ash. When they spoke, the visitors kept their voices quiet in respect for the mountain. And others. The wind carried voices far. Gazing at the devastation made the little volcano models in the science fairs seem inadequate.

Life returned to the mountain. Trees and bushes emerged along the creeks, and flowers appeared across the meadows. Elk bounded in and out of the forest. Even after a quarter century, much of the blast zone remained nearly barren. Plants peeked out growing bolder. Hikers, climbers, and mountain bikers took in the scenery and imagined the destruction. Many remembered the landscape before the blast while enjoying the new face of Mount St. Helens.

Plains of Abraham 2004

Learn more by visiting the US Forest Service Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument website.

Dad set the telescope on the driveway. Unfolding, the rickety tripod clanged into position. It wobbled on its feet, slender tube drooping. Dad scanned the sky, looking over the first few stars awakening in the fading light. He knew the major constellations and could recognize several planets, but not much more. This was his first time, too. Hunched over, he lifted the tube aiming into the southern sky and peered into the eyepiece.

Watching, I waited. He nudged the scope, turned a knob at the base of the eyepiece. Looking at the sky, I saw a bright gleam floating in the deep azure. I asked him what he was looking at. Head bobbing, he switched between peering down the length of the tube and into the eyepiece. He adjusted a knob. Rising up, he stepped back.
Slinking up to the instrunment, I followed directions. Nearly the same height as the telescope, I only had to lean over a bit to peer into the tiny opening at the back. A shining blob caught my eye. It wiggled within the view as I wobbled on my feet.

“It’s Saturn,” he said.

I had seen photographs of Saturn in a magazine. The blob inside the telescope appeared nothing like the planet on the glossy pages. I gazed at something shaped more like a squished ball. Holding my breath, keeping still, I gazed into the eyepiece. The slender oval drifted sideways. And I saw it. The tips on either side of the round center were rings. Staring at it, details emerged. Nearly lost in a blur, two specks of darkness marked the space between the rings on either side of the planet. Peering up, I looked at the bright gem in the sky. Saturn, I thought.

Realizing destinations filled the sky, the world expanded around me.
The hunger took over. I had to know more. Pouring over books at the library, I absorbed it all. But never too much at a time. After each section, each small bite, I thought it over. The numbers and other data became images in my mind. But everything seemed so big. The schoolyard became a scale model, basketball sun at one end and a marble Saturn at the other. Walking from the basketball to the tiny blue plastic bead planet, I imagined the trip. Eight minutes for light, a few less for my feet. Looking back at the basketball, I saw the sun. Peering the other way, beyond the other end of the football field, I spotted where the marble rested in the grass. I saw Saturn. My eyes opened and questions poured in. What kept everything together?

“It’s gravity,” Dad said. Explaining the force holding my feet to the ground, he told me the same force held the planets in orbit. I argued that a force is physical like pulling a wagon. “An invisible force,” he said. It sounded like magic. A good story, but it did not sit well with me. Not one bit.

It never sat well with Newton, according to a book. The implication was in the mathematics tested by observation. But what caused the force? Spinning a bucket over my head held the water inside, but my arm and bucket were real, a physical force. And the book pointed out that Mercury did not play by the rules of the invisible force story. Predictions of positions lost accuracy over time. The problem simmered in my head for years while I read books and thought about other problems. I took small bites, imagined the meanings, asked questions. My skills improved as each answer revealed tougher questions. Sitting in the car while picturing planetary orbits, the answer leaped into my thoughts.

Dad listened to my explanation. I told him that objects followed natural pathways within the fabric of space warped by the objects themselves. Newton’s mathematics relating gravity to a force was only an approximation. Gravity was not a force like twirling a bucket of water.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” he said. Wise words, I questioned everything. But his bites of knowledge were less frequent. I was on my own.

A book on relativity, requiring small doses of reading and long hours of imagining, confirmed my suspicion. This different story and its mathematics predicted Mercury with high accuracy. I never shared this with Dad. We talked about comet hunting and viewing planets. Problems twirled through my head as I worked them out on my own. Everyone has their own pace, their own hunger.

In a park after sunset, I set up my new telescope. The heavy instrument whirred on its motors tracking the sky, revealing Saturn in clear detail. No longer a squished ball, the object in the eyepiece appeared much like the photos in the magazine. Within the rings, Cassini’s Division carved a black line. Above the rings, two hazy stripes-cloud belts-crossed the planet. A couple walked up and asked what I was looking at.

“It’s Saturn,” I said. Sometimes folks asked more questions, and I answered them in small handfuls. Knowledge is best served a bite at a time. The couple did not ask any questions, and I only offered instruction on peering into the eyepiece. They marveled at the details, their small bite, and went on their way.

Take small bites, savor each delight.