My mind is caught in a tangible fog.
Cause and effect? Or prediction of cause?
Are these but the symptoms,
Or the cause of prediction?
Or the confusion laid forth by a mind in the fog?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Of Hydrogen Economies and Thermodynamics (Draft 3.3)
There is a misconception that hydrogen may someday solve our energy woes. This is unfortunately impossible, not from the standpoint of feasibility, practicality, or economics, but from that of basic physics. The laws of thermodynamics do not allow for a complete "hydrogen economy" (wherein hydrogen is the primary source of our energy). The following explains why.
The laws of thermodynamics are essentially as follows:
1) Energy cannot be created or destroyed. In other words, if you want energy, you have to get it from somewhere.
2) No use of energy is 100% efficient. If a given amount of energy is used to do work (or anything else productive), some of the energy is always ‘lost’ (typically in the form of heat energy radiating away).
Of greatest significance is the first law. When we burn oil or coal, where does the energy we gain come from? It cannot simply ‘materialize.’ Instead, the energy comes from the chemical bonds in the coal or oil molecules which are broken apart. To make the idea clearer, imagine a box of springs. If the springs are outside of the box (perhaps scattered across the floor), it takes a considerable amount of effort (or energy) to get all of the springs inside the box and close the lid. The energy you exert is stored in the compressed springs. When you later open the box, the springs explode all over the place, releasing this energy. The burning of fossil fuels is similar to the box of springs in many ways. Natural processes transform (over the course of a very long time) simple organic compounds into complex molecules with many chemical bonds, and each bond contains the energy imparted upon it by the natural process. In this way, the chemical bonds are like the compressed springs. When these complex molecules (of coal or oil) are burned, the burning process pulls violently at the chemical bonds until they cannot hold together and ‘spring apart,’ releasing their energy in the form of heat. This is similar to the box of springs exploding, releasing its energy in the form of flying springs. Of course, this ‘explosion’ of energy is not in itself of practical value. The explosion must be put to work, and the example of a car engine or a steam turbine are perfect examples. The key realization is where the energy comes from when we burn fossil fuels: the energy comes from the release of chemical bonds. Coal and oil literally have energy in them, and the process of burning serves to release this energy.
This kind of stored energy is called potential energy. Any form of energy which seems ‘hidden’ and can be carried from place to place before it is used is called potential energy. Coal, oil, and natural gas all carry potential energy, and we release this energy when we burn these complex substances and tear apart the chemical bonds within which the energy is stored. Hydrogen gas carries potential energy in a similar way. Hydrogen is famously explosive (as was showcased by the Hindenburg airship), and exploding hydrogen can be made useful in the same way that burning gasoline or coal can be made useful; it can be put to work in an engine.
Of the many potential problems of a so-called “hydrogen economy,” rarely does this one ever come up: to actually gain energy from the use of hydrogen as a fuel, we have to find the hydrogen somewhere. Coal and oil are like finding a box of springs already loaded up and ready to go. We find these substances buried deep in mines and in wells underground, but in practice it ends up being worthwhile because the energy contained in the coal and oil we find is much greater than the energy expended to extract it from the ground. If we were to produce any of these substances ourselves by extracting them from other substances, we would have to expend as much energy creating our fuel as we would eventually get out of it by burning it. This is because, metaphorically speaking, we would essentially have to cram the springs into the box ourselves. This is critical: we cannot extract hydrogen from other substances if we hope to gain energy by burning it later. For example, the process of burning hydrogen causes it to release energy as it combines with oxygen, forming water. To extract hydrogen from water (the most realistic option) would reverse this process, which would require us to contribute energy, resulting in zero net gain in energy over the entire process (and, according to the second law, a slight loss).
So where do we “find” hydrogen then? The good news is, hydrogen is the most abundant element in the universe. In fact, it makes up 98% of it! The bad news is, on the planet Earth it has a way of either combining with other elements to form compounds from which we would have to extract it, or of escaping the atmosphere altogether. Hydrogen is extremely reactive; this is why it burns so well. However, this also causes it to engage readily in chemical reactions, preventing it from maintaining its pure, useful form. Nowhere has pure, naturally existing hydrogen ever been found on our planet, and because of its highly reactive nature, it is extremely unlikely that it ever will. In the atmosphere it exists in trace amounts, but only on the order 0.5 parts per million.
So where does the hydrogen used in prototype hydrogen vehicles and other emerging technologies come from? It is currently extracted from other substances. But remember what the laws of thermodynamics tell us: the potential energy in our 'manufactured' hydrogen gas has to come from somewhere. Since we have to create the hydrogen gas ourselves, this means we first have to come up with the energy needed to create it. We must get this energy from other sources of potential energy which already exist, such as fossil fuels. Because it doesn't exist on our planet in a pure form, hydrogen cannot provide us with any new energy; it can only serve as a means of storing energy from other sources. Assuming this energy comes mostly from fossil fuels, hydrogen accomplishes nothing it claims to in terms of reducing pollution caused by the generation of energy. True, burning hydrogen creates no extra pollution, but obtaining the energy to create the hydrogen still does.
Now, hydrogen is not a realistic source of energy, but perhaps it will prove an effective way to store and transport energy? Well, the issues of storing and transporting hydrogen are the main problems facing the long-pending hydrogen economy. What’s worse, we still haven’t considered the second law of thermodynamics. It turns out, using hydrogen to store and transport energy is less efficient than simply using the original sources of energy to do the work. By using hydrogen, we end up wasting energy, all while offsetting zero pollution (because of the production of hydrogen).
It is possible, if we find a different source of clean energy, to produce hydrogen as a transportable fuel (at some loss of energy content). Hydrogen wouldn't be the source of the energy, but it would serve to replace gasoline. This, of course, assumes that the logistics of storing and transporting hydrogen are ironed out. Remember, though, that this still requires that we find a clean source of energy independent of hydrogen. Hydrogen does not solve the original problem of coming up with a clean, abundant source of new energy.
The only way that a complete "hydrogen economy" will prove effective is if we find our hydrogen somewhere instead of producing it ourselves. The only place within our solar system known to have excess pure hydrogen is the sun, and short of developing a supply chain that obtains hydrogen from the sun in much the same way as we mine our coal here on earth, a hydrogen economy is out of reach.
It’s not economics. It's not politics. It’s physics.
The laws of thermodynamics are essentially as follows:
1) Energy cannot be created or destroyed. In other words, if you want energy, you have to get it from somewhere.
2) No use of energy is 100% efficient. If a given amount of energy is used to do work (or anything else productive), some of the energy is always ‘lost’ (typically in the form of heat energy radiating away).
Of greatest significance is the first law. When we burn oil or coal, where does the energy we gain come from? It cannot simply ‘materialize.’ Instead, the energy comes from the chemical bonds in the coal or oil molecules which are broken apart. To make the idea clearer, imagine a box of springs. If the springs are outside of the box (perhaps scattered across the floor), it takes a considerable amount of effort (or energy) to get all of the springs inside the box and close the lid. The energy you exert is stored in the compressed springs. When you later open the box, the springs explode all over the place, releasing this energy. The burning of fossil fuels is similar to the box of springs in many ways. Natural processes transform (over the course of a very long time) simple organic compounds into complex molecules with many chemical bonds, and each bond contains the energy imparted upon it by the natural process. In this way, the chemical bonds are like the compressed springs. When these complex molecules (of coal or oil) are burned, the burning process pulls violently at the chemical bonds until they cannot hold together and ‘spring apart,’ releasing their energy in the form of heat. This is similar to the box of springs exploding, releasing its energy in the form of flying springs. Of course, this ‘explosion’ of energy is not in itself of practical value. The explosion must be put to work, and the example of a car engine or a steam turbine are perfect examples. The key realization is where the energy comes from when we burn fossil fuels: the energy comes from the release of chemical bonds. Coal and oil literally have energy in them, and the process of burning serves to release this energy.
This kind of stored energy is called potential energy. Any form of energy which seems ‘hidden’ and can be carried from place to place before it is used is called potential energy. Coal, oil, and natural gas all carry potential energy, and we release this energy when we burn these complex substances and tear apart the chemical bonds within which the energy is stored. Hydrogen gas carries potential energy in a similar way. Hydrogen is famously explosive (as was showcased by the Hindenburg airship), and exploding hydrogen can be made useful in the same way that burning gasoline or coal can be made useful; it can be put to work in an engine.
Of the many potential problems of a so-called “hydrogen economy,” rarely does this one ever come up: to actually gain energy from the use of hydrogen as a fuel, we have to find the hydrogen somewhere. Coal and oil are like finding a box of springs already loaded up and ready to go. We find these substances buried deep in mines and in wells underground, but in practice it ends up being worthwhile because the energy contained in the coal and oil we find is much greater than the energy expended to extract it from the ground. If we were to produce any of these substances ourselves by extracting them from other substances, we would have to expend as much energy creating our fuel as we would eventually get out of it by burning it. This is because, metaphorically speaking, we would essentially have to cram the springs into the box ourselves. This is critical: we cannot extract hydrogen from other substances if we hope to gain energy by burning it later. For example, the process of burning hydrogen causes it to release energy as it combines with oxygen, forming water. To extract hydrogen from water (the most realistic option) would reverse this process, which would require us to contribute energy, resulting in zero net gain in energy over the entire process (and, according to the second law, a slight loss).
So where do we “find” hydrogen then? The good news is, hydrogen is the most abundant element in the universe. In fact, it makes up 98% of it! The bad news is, on the planet Earth it has a way of either combining with other elements to form compounds from which we would have to extract it, or of escaping the atmosphere altogether. Hydrogen is extremely reactive; this is why it burns so well. However, this also causes it to engage readily in chemical reactions, preventing it from maintaining its pure, useful form. Nowhere has pure, naturally existing hydrogen ever been found on our planet, and because of its highly reactive nature, it is extremely unlikely that it ever will. In the atmosphere it exists in trace amounts, but only on the order 0.5 parts per million.
So where does the hydrogen used in prototype hydrogen vehicles and other emerging technologies come from? It is currently extracted from other substances. But remember what the laws of thermodynamics tell us: the potential energy in our 'manufactured' hydrogen gas has to come from somewhere. Since we have to create the hydrogen gas ourselves, this means we first have to come up with the energy needed to create it. We must get this energy from other sources of potential energy which already exist, such as fossil fuels. Because it doesn't exist on our planet in a pure form, hydrogen cannot provide us with any new energy; it can only serve as a means of storing energy from other sources. Assuming this energy comes mostly from fossil fuels, hydrogen accomplishes nothing it claims to in terms of reducing pollution caused by the generation of energy. True, burning hydrogen creates no extra pollution, but obtaining the energy to create the hydrogen still does.
Now, hydrogen is not a realistic source of energy, but perhaps it will prove an effective way to store and transport energy? Well, the issues of storing and transporting hydrogen are the main problems facing the long-pending hydrogen economy. What’s worse, we still haven’t considered the second law of thermodynamics. It turns out, using hydrogen to store and transport energy is less efficient than simply using the original sources of energy to do the work. By using hydrogen, we end up wasting energy, all while offsetting zero pollution (because of the production of hydrogen).
It is possible, if we find a different source of clean energy, to produce hydrogen as a transportable fuel (at some loss of energy content). Hydrogen wouldn't be the source of the energy, but it would serve to replace gasoline. This, of course, assumes that the logistics of storing and transporting hydrogen are ironed out. Remember, though, that this still requires that we find a clean source of energy independent of hydrogen. Hydrogen does not solve the original problem of coming up with a clean, abundant source of new energy.
The only way that a complete "hydrogen economy" will prove effective is if we find our hydrogen somewhere instead of producing it ourselves. The only place within our solar system known to have excess pure hydrogen is the sun, and short of developing a supply chain that obtains hydrogen from the sun in much the same way as we mine our coal here on earth, a hydrogen economy is out of reach.
It’s not economics. It's not politics. It’s physics.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Sans Requiem
I slipped out through the doorway, onto a white stone veranda with an arching stairway leading down toward the grounds. I shaded my eyes against the sun and felt it on my arms, and I began to sweat a bit as fatigue set in. I hadn’t slept in a day or so, and my headache wasn’t getting much better. There wasn’t anyone around, and I was glad for it. Most people don’t have much in the way of kind words for me, and I sure don’t have many for them. But it doesn’t matter. It’s all business. I’m never around long when there’s people around.
There’s too much trouble in the city for a criminal during hard times, but if you know where to hang around, there’s always some estate with enough money saved up so that it doesn’t matter whether there’s a war or peace or anything else. Of course, when you’ve got nothing it doesn’t matter much either, but that’s different. I was still doing the same thing I’d always done.
A few yards across the way there was another door on the other side of the stairs that looked just the same as mine, made from the same dark wood with the same dark iron hinges reaching across the grain. I started slowly toward it, walking toward the shade, when a bride came out through the door and out onto the veranda. A wedding! I made my way over to the estate after seeing more people coming and going than was usual, but it all made sense now. Why no one questioned me, walking around like I belonged. And seeing the bride there across from me, staring right back, I didn’t have time to even think. We were alone, and I was just doing the same thing I’d always done.
I grabbed for her necklace, thinking I could make a quick getaway with it. The bride screamed and began to run for the stairs, but I caught the shoulder of her dress and pulled myself toward her, shoving my hand over her mouth and pulling her close with the other arm to keep her from running off. She froze, stared at me wide, and I didn’t say a word. I went to grab for the necklace again, but she spun around and dashed for the stairs. As my other hand fell away, I grabbed the necklace from behind and pulled as hard as I could. The necklace snapped apart and sent pearls scattering across the ground, throwing the bride off balance. She began to fall. And I knew where she was headed, and I may have even tried to stop it, but before the thoughts even came through all the way, she fell down against the concrete planter by the stairway, and her head cracked hard against the side of it. I didn’t even have to look back as I ran off; I knew it. She was dead.
As soon as I heard the heavy wooden door open up again behind me I made for the bushes, trying to keep hidden and quiet. I looked up the stairway and saw the entire wedding party, led by the groom, walking out toward the bride and her blood-soaked dress. They all stopped and stared down at her, no one saying a word. After a long silence the groom knelt down and picked up his bride-to-have-been, lifting her up out of her own blood and into the sun. Her head lay lifeless to the side, revealing the fatal wound and the gruesome mark it had left on her young face. Without any hint of sorrow or remorse, he made his way down the stairs, with the rest of the party following close behind, until he was standing but a few inches away from my breathless face, completely oblivious to my presence. He cautiously laid her down at my feet, looked down at her one last time, and walked away, leading his wedding party away from the veranda and away from everything that had happened.
After much hesitation I looked down again at the remnants of my horrible deed, at the bride who had paid with her life for the pearls I clenched tightly in my sweaty, shaking hands. And as she faded away before my very eyes, I looked up at the man who was to have been her husband, and saw how fondly he looked at one of the bridesmaids, talking and smiling. They carried on as though nothing had happened! Perhaps it was a morbid curiosity, perhaps a sense of wanting to make things right, or perhaps a terrified disgust with the way they carried on without any concern for their deceased party member. But regardless of the reason, I followed them. They walked along, past the grove trees, down the main road, and back toward the town. I had to know where they intended to go, what they intended to do now. As I listened to their conversation, I thought I heard them speak of the bride. They spoke of how foolish she was, and how naïve she had been, and the bridesmaid and the groom began walking hand in hand as they spoke of their former friend. I could not understand... did none of them care?
As we entered the town, they took a side road along the older houses that had been in the area since the turn of the century. The town had grown tremendously in the face of industrialization, but it was still a small town, supported mainly by the estate. As we walked past the wide lay of an old ranch house, I saw the bride sitting out in front of it. But she was younger. She was alone and crying, as if she knew she’d be alone forever. I watched her and reached out to her with my gaze, but she didn’t look back. She just sat on her knees and cried. I turned away and continued walking, trying to shake the image from my mind. We passed by the next property, and I saw the bride again, this time standing by as her parents fought and yelled at one another. Just as the image faded away, I saw the father advance toward the daughter as if to hit her. I quickly turned away, toward yet another image of the bride, this time older, with the man she had intended to marry. But this time things were different. There was for once a look of happiness in her eyes. A look of hope, as if to say she intended to leave her past behind and begin a new life with a man she so obviously loved.
But this image faded away as well. I looked up, but the wedding party was gone, nowhere to be seen. It was as if they had vanished, along with the bride and the hope she so desperately harbored for a new life. And I was angry. Not because the bride had died. Not because she had struggled her entire life to become nothing more than a memory. Not because the groom and the bridesmaid had fled the scene together, as though the terrible thing I had done had been the answer to their prayers. It was because no one cared. Just as the bride herself faded away before my very eyes, moments after she fell and met her death, she was already fading away from memory. No one would remember her. No one would remember the girl who had lived through hell in hopes of finding a better life and a new beginning. No one cared.
No one fucking cared.
And I hated everyone for it.
There’s too much trouble in the city for a criminal during hard times, but if you know where to hang around, there’s always some estate with enough money saved up so that it doesn’t matter whether there’s a war or peace or anything else. Of course, when you’ve got nothing it doesn’t matter much either, but that’s different. I was still doing the same thing I’d always done.
A few yards across the way there was another door on the other side of the stairs that looked just the same as mine, made from the same dark wood with the same dark iron hinges reaching across the grain. I started slowly toward it, walking toward the shade, when a bride came out through the door and out onto the veranda. A wedding! I made my way over to the estate after seeing more people coming and going than was usual, but it all made sense now. Why no one questioned me, walking around like I belonged. And seeing the bride there across from me, staring right back, I didn’t have time to even think. We were alone, and I was just doing the same thing I’d always done.
I grabbed for her necklace, thinking I could make a quick getaway with it. The bride screamed and began to run for the stairs, but I caught the shoulder of her dress and pulled myself toward her, shoving my hand over her mouth and pulling her close with the other arm to keep her from running off. She froze, stared at me wide, and I didn’t say a word. I went to grab for the necklace again, but she spun around and dashed for the stairs. As my other hand fell away, I grabbed the necklace from behind and pulled as hard as I could. The necklace snapped apart and sent pearls scattering across the ground, throwing the bride off balance. She began to fall. And I knew where she was headed, and I may have even tried to stop it, but before the thoughts even came through all the way, she fell down against the concrete planter by the stairway, and her head cracked hard against the side of it. I didn’t even have to look back as I ran off; I knew it. She was dead.
As soon as I heard the heavy wooden door open up again behind me I made for the bushes, trying to keep hidden and quiet. I looked up the stairway and saw the entire wedding party, led by the groom, walking out toward the bride and her blood-soaked dress. They all stopped and stared down at her, no one saying a word. After a long silence the groom knelt down and picked up his bride-to-have-been, lifting her up out of her own blood and into the sun. Her head lay lifeless to the side, revealing the fatal wound and the gruesome mark it had left on her young face. Without any hint of sorrow or remorse, he made his way down the stairs, with the rest of the party following close behind, until he was standing but a few inches away from my breathless face, completely oblivious to my presence. He cautiously laid her down at my feet, looked down at her one last time, and walked away, leading his wedding party away from the veranda and away from everything that had happened.
After much hesitation I looked down again at the remnants of my horrible deed, at the bride who had paid with her life for the pearls I clenched tightly in my sweaty, shaking hands. And as she faded away before my very eyes, I looked up at the man who was to have been her husband, and saw how fondly he looked at one of the bridesmaids, talking and smiling. They carried on as though nothing had happened! Perhaps it was a morbid curiosity, perhaps a sense of wanting to make things right, or perhaps a terrified disgust with the way they carried on without any concern for their deceased party member. But regardless of the reason, I followed them. They walked along, past the grove trees, down the main road, and back toward the town. I had to know where they intended to go, what they intended to do now. As I listened to their conversation, I thought I heard them speak of the bride. They spoke of how foolish she was, and how naïve she had been, and the bridesmaid and the groom began walking hand in hand as they spoke of their former friend. I could not understand... did none of them care?
As we entered the town, they took a side road along the older houses that had been in the area since the turn of the century. The town had grown tremendously in the face of industrialization, but it was still a small town, supported mainly by the estate. As we walked past the wide lay of an old ranch house, I saw the bride sitting out in front of it. But she was younger. She was alone and crying, as if she knew she’d be alone forever. I watched her and reached out to her with my gaze, but she didn’t look back. She just sat on her knees and cried. I turned away and continued walking, trying to shake the image from my mind. We passed by the next property, and I saw the bride again, this time standing by as her parents fought and yelled at one another. Just as the image faded away, I saw the father advance toward the daughter as if to hit her. I quickly turned away, toward yet another image of the bride, this time older, with the man she had intended to marry. But this time things were different. There was for once a look of happiness in her eyes. A look of hope, as if to say she intended to leave her past behind and begin a new life with a man she so obviously loved.
But this image faded away as well. I looked up, but the wedding party was gone, nowhere to be seen. It was as if they had vanished, along with the bride and the hope she so desperately harbored for a new life. And I was angry. Not because the bride had died. Not because she had struggled her entire life to become nothing more than a memory. Not because the groom and the bridesmaid had fled the scene together, as though the terrible thing I had done had been the answer to their prayers. It was because no one cared. Just as the bride herself faded away before my very eyes, moments after she fell and met her death, she was already fading away from memory. No one would remember her. No one would remember the girl who had lived through hell in hopes of finding a better life and a new beginning. No one cared.
No one fucking cared.
And I hated everyone for it.
