One of the first things people ask me when they read certain of my stories is “What’s the right way to pronounce all these weird words?” My stock answer is: “However you like! It’s all made up, whatever sounds right inside your head is fine by me.”
Starting the process of doing an audio book for All That Was Asked has forced me to face the fact that, well, really there is a “right” way. For one thing, the story centers on language–in fact, the working title of the book was “Translations by Ansegwe.” In general, for the stories where I have a made-up culture with their own language or an “evolved” culture that’s grown from more-or-less familiar cultures but uses a language other than English as their root language, I do know how those words should be pronounced. I’m that wonky sort that blows off an entire afternoon at Worldcon to attend a linguistics workshop, so, well, that’s where I’m coming from.
In the real world, I know French pretty well, I watch a lot
of foreign-language TV (though of course I’m relying on subtitles), I live in
place where I hear Spanish and Russian regularly, and I have technical-world
acquaintances with a great variety of language “homes” from India to
Europe to Africa to both Chinas. I’ve
struggled to learn a smattering of my culture-base language–Gaelic. And I grew
up being hauled around to various places in the U.S. and England. I even still “hear” (and alas for
spell-checkers, spell) most English as Brit-style. End result:
I love the interplay of languages and the way everyone talks. I
do not claim to be a polyglot, but I’m a diligent researcher and I just love
all those sounds.
In my writing, most of the problematic words are names, because I think of such stories as having been “translated” from the alien/alternate history language set. Names tend to get left over after a translation, because even if I’m translating a story from French to English, I wouldn’t change “Tourenne” to “Terence” or “Gervais” to Gerald, because a) the names aren’t really the same and b) the sounds of names add the flavor of a language without requiring a reader to actually know a foreign tongue directly. Spoiler? My current work-in-progress has characters named Tourenne and Gervais, and they live in a francophone culture that doesn’t exist anywhere in the real world.
In the made-up language base for All That Was Asked, I have lots of names for people, place-names from more than one country in the alternate-universe world, and a few name-based terms. (The academic types in the story have dreams of winning their version of the Nobel prize, so they talk about it a lot. The Nobel prize is named for a person, but . . . it’s a thing.) I wanted the central names to make sense, to have relateable sounds, and to have some commonalities. For instance, in English we have a lot of names that end in ‘-y’. I selected some sound elements that would fit into different names and tried to make them sound like they came from a distinct self-contained culture–except for a few names I made up specifically to sound like another culture, in the same world.
I decided on a family-personal naming order that made sense
for the culture–Family first, Personal second, and most people refer to each
other and address each other by their personal names, because everyone knows
what family everyone else belongs to. And
I made names longer than we’re used to in English. In our culture “power names” tend
to be short, in theirs, most people have multisyllable names, and powerful people
tend to have longer names.
For other sets of words in this story, ones that are “translated” to English, I “hear” the words in British/European English rather than American English, because that fits better with the social style of the people and gives it a little bit of distance for American readers. It may sound really fussy–especially for such a short little book–but I think having a clear auditory sense going into it helped me with building the alien culture. I just have to hope it carries through to readers and listeners–not a burden to cope with but an added feature of the story.
In my next post, I’ll give you a blow-by-blow pronunciation guide for All That Was Asked, with a few background bits to liven it up a bit.
Meanwhile, Amazon is lagging behind, with just the Kindle version and it still is tagged as “preorder” . . . in the U.S. C’mon Jeff, don’t you want more money for your rocketship project? UPDATE: Amazon is up, in Kindle and Trade Paperback editions.
But you can download it from Amazon’s sites for the UK or India.
And it’s up at Canada’s Biggest Bookstore, !ndigo.
This first-contact story explores the challenges of communication between species–when neither side has a universal translator to rely on, when the alien in question is so odd most people would consider it an animal, not a person, and when accidents and misunderstandings get in the way.
Ansegwe’s a tagalong, a wannabe poet, and the pampered offspring of a rich, powerful family. When faced with the choice of leaving an injured alien creature to fend for itself in the wilds of a strange world, he makes decisions that force him to contend with his own failings–but also help him discover his mission in life.
Available in hardcover, trade paperback, and digital editions on January 31st. Pre-order now! Free shipping for B&N members and on Amazon Prime.
Long, long ago, when I was a horse-mad thirteen-year-old, we lived stranded in a one-street suburb of Montgomery, Alabama, where the only available equine companionship came in the form of a mare and foal pastured behind our house. The mare was tolerant, not friendly, but not the type to pitch a fit when some kid squeezed through the barbed-wire fence to pamper her baby. It helped that the colt wasn’t a baby anymore, to be sure.
Generally, I would manage to sneak out with an apple, which the young horse would snarf down with relish. Then he would snuffle at my pockets in hopes of seconds. Horses are smarter than non-horsey people give them credit for. Horses know what pockets are for. Pockets are containers for apples, carrots, crunchy horse treats, sometimes even a handful of grain, preferably sweet feed. They do not care about the cries emanating from laundry rooms when mothers find pocket-loads of such goodies swirling in the wash.
One fine February day, I ventured out with only some small treat, nothing as appealing as an apple. It was chilly, so I wore my new(ish) red coat. And my pony friend bit me on the shoulder. Another thing non-horsey people may not know is that a horse can bite hard. They fight with their teeth–stallions even have extra-sharp eye teeth for those battles that make the front covers of old cowboy paperbacks.
That bite hurt. It hurt bad. I was not so horse-crazy that I didn’t run home for help. I was lucky to be wearing that insulated jacket–all my friend gave me was an enormous bruise, as the coat distributed the impact nicely. My mother was angry, scolding me for trespassing in the pasture but also clearly angry that the horse had hurt me. I took his part, explaining–convincingly, I was sure–that he simply mistook the red, rounded curve of my shoulder for a big shiny apple. It was my fault, I told her, for leading him to expect apples all the time and . . . most accurately, for turning my back on him. I loved horses, but I’d been hanging around them since I was six, and I knew better.
Bear with me. I’m getting there.
We were living in Montgomery because my dad was attending the Air War College, an academic-style officer-training program. It’s very like a master’s degree program in strategy, analysis, all that sort of thing. (My copy of Strunk and White is a discard from the library there, one my dad brought home for his aspiring-writer kid.) My mom grew up spending summers on “the farm”–her parent’s country get-away. My dad was a city boy through-and-through. Years later, I learned he was afraid of horses–that the thought of his kid galloping around on top of one of those monsters horrified him.
The War College program is only a year. One spring night, quite late, my parents stumbled into the house after some kind of semi-official party at the AWC. They, or at least Dad, had had a really fun evening. Really, really fun. My dad had received his next posting. As wing commander for a prestigious bomber wing. In North Dakota. We were moving to an air base where there was an on-base stable, in a state where horses were cheap to get and to keep.
“North Dakota is Rough Rider country, cowboy country,” my dad told me that night, his eyes bright and his grin much wider than usual. “So you can have a horse in North Dakota. Won’t that be great?”
When Dad sobered up, the next day, and recovered from his headache, the day after, Mom sat him down and told him what he’d promised me. And she held him to it. She wouldn’t let him back out of it.
So for the next four months, I thought to myself, over and over again, I’m getting a horse, I’m getting a horse, I’m getting a horse.
It’s happening again. I may be ever so much older than twenty now, but I’m having all those same feelings Though it’s not a horse this time. It’s a book. It’s my book. And it’s being published. For reals. For really reals. In four months.
It’s about a couple of strangers who meet up and have some troubles understanding one another.
Cross-species friendships can be complicated.
The book is All That Was Asked. It’s coming out from Paper Angel Press, a publisher based in San Jose, California. And it should be out in January of 2020. In the meantime, check out all the other books that Paper Angel Press has available.
I’m all kinds of happy about convention time this year. It makes up for a lot of crummy stuff that happened in my little world in the first third of 2018.
BayCon programming liked some of my program ideas. They even put some of them on the program! Even better, though a little scarier, they plunked me down as a panel member on two of them and asked me to moderate a third. I’m getting better at this panel thing, though. I’ve discovered I do have a few things to say, and I have managed to steer a group around to keep the panel on track or at least bring the quietest panelist back into the conversation. I’m solidly on science track this year, so I will make sure to brush up on my Real Facts before I show up.
Here’s my schedule, just in case anyone’s looking for me. Or at least so I have a place I can look this stuff up, myself:
Huh, what’s that mean?
Science and Politics in the USA: Latter Day Lysenkoism?
Can US science recover from the anti-science policies of politicians? Where will the damage be most significant?
Edward Kukla (educator, biologist, mathematician, a moderator who knows how to make Ph.D.’s behave themselves) Bradford Lyau, Ph.D. (historian, political activist, literary analyst)
Vanessa MacLaren-Wray, Ph.D. (science activist, writer, engineer)
Howard Davidson, Ph.D. (turns science fiction into real-world stuff)
Bad Science: Pseudoscience, Hoaxes, and Illogical Thinking
When we’re reading or writing science fiction, we’ve got some poetic license, but we want the science to be fundamentally right. When looking for science resources, how do we winnow the chaff from the wheat? As a bonus, really bad science and hoaxers provide excellent fodder for parody SF. (I’m a big fan of Phil Plait, whose “Bad Astronomy ” column is a good example of this kind of thinking.)
Vanessa MacLaren-Wray, Ph.D. (writer, mechanical engineer, writer, used to managing a roomful of smart guys) Howard Davidson, Ph.D. (physicist, inventor)
Arthur Bozlee (aerospace entrepeneur, oughta have a Ph.D., should hire the rest of us)
Jim Doty, Ph.D. (writer, electrical engineer)
For the first time, science can show that three extreme weather events would not have happened without global warming, including the rain bomb that drowned Houston. We’re also seeing tropical cyclones cross into the Bering Sea, and cold snaps bringing snow to the deep south. What can we expect to happen with tornadoes?
Patricia MacEwen (writer, physical anthropologist who also uses her knowledge for our kind of stories, all-around awesome person) Vanessa MacLaren-Wray, Ph.D. (writer, engineer working on energy efficiency to fight climate change)
Heidi Stauffer, Ph.D. (real-life educator and environmental geologist, i.e., this stuff is her field exactly)
My BayCon program schedule has some holes in it, so I plan to take some time and scoot down to Fanime that same weekend. I love the costumes, and I’ve lately acquired a taste for Japanese pop music, and have even watched some of the anime (especially, of course, the science fiction) that rolls through on Netflix. I have an in-house anime expert who can give me insider tips so I don’t have to watch everything to find what I’ll like.
WorldCon is in San Jose this year! I am so stoked! I submitted some program ideas to that group as well, though haven’t had any feedback from them. Though I don’t expect to actually be on program, if they use any of my ideas I will be sure to go around claiming credit for them. I’m finally paid up on my membership (thank heavens for installment plans). My last WorldCon was in Spokane, and that trip was super-fun, but it kind of broke the family bank. With the con in San Jose, it’s an easy daily commute. Niiiiice.
Al Gore won’t be coming to BayCon, but we’ll do our best to cover for him.
Here is some feedback from the game. I kept score of Layin’ Pipe when they batted. Susan, the acting manager, kept score of the Aeromen and has the batting stats. The game was played on Field 5 so we expected a low scoring affair. The Aeromen led the entire game for a efficient and satisfying 5-3 playoff victory. A blend of 7 veteran (i.e. older) Aeromen and 4 younger so-called “Other” players (Jose, Nick, Ulongo(?), and Mandy) provided the winning lineup. It was a fast paced win taking only 55 minutes.
Everyone contributed to the win. Alan (P) pitched a gem. He gave up only 2 earned runs. After the 4th hitter in the 1st inning, he retired the next 10 in a row. He only gave up 8 hits and only an one extra base hit, a double. Charlie (C) was his supporting battery mate. The defense was almost flawless. There were 14 fly outs and 7 ground outs. In the outfield, Antonio (LC) had 5 putouts, Ty (LF) 3, and Jim (RC) 1. In the infield, Jason (SS) was busy with 6 assists and 4 putouts, and Mike (3B) had an assist and a putout. He had the most creative play of the night when he dove to his left to snare a one-hop line drive, got to his knees, and shot put the ball to Ulongo for a force out at second base.
I asked our fans —OK, really our fan— to respond to such an artful win by the Aeromen. Vanessa stated matter-of-factly, “Isn’t that the way they’re suppose to play!”
That’s why we love the Aeromen Nation.
Next week we progress to Round 2 game, and with a win, to the Championship game. The Round 2 game is against New Market Mallers, who are 1st seed and had a bye.
Think: Aeromen are the Champions
(Note: Detailed coverage of the Aeromen will occasionally appear in these pages. Guest authors retain copyright. Less-detailed game reports can be found on the team’s Facebook page.)
A Top-Down Search for the Strange Charm of Putting Up With Those Quarks at Bottom of the Universe
For part two of our universe-construction project, while the helium models dry, it’s time to delve into the depths of the sub-sub-atomic universe.
Consider those carefully-constructed model atoms. Each contains protons, neutrons, and electrons.
As it turns out, with electrons, there are (so far as physics can determine at present) no smaller particles needed to build an electron. Electrons are part of a group of six elementary particles called leptons. Some of these leptons–the neutrinos–were predicted to not even have any mass, but experiments have shown that while they are incredibly low-mass, neutrinos do have some mass. Interestingly, these experiments leading to even more new developments in fundamental physics and the Standard Model theory. Still, electrons are by far the most numerous leptons (at least in our corner of the multiverse.)
In our candy-based model, we have more than one proton crammed into in a nucleus. Each of those protons has a positive charge, but we all know that objects with the same charge repel each other. Why does the nucleus stay together?
In our model, of course, there is all that sticky candy. But in the real atom, there is also something that, in its own way, makes protons stick together. These other particles are one type of another class of matter, called mesons. These strange, essential, particles are stable only inside the nucleus, where (like our sticky marshmallows) they act as a “glue” to hold protons and neutrons close together.
Given that extremely tiny leptons have been observed, as well as tiny mesons inside the nucleus, protons and neutrons may begin to seem too big to be elementary particles. Sure enough, it turns out that protons and neutrons are also made of smaller particles. And those mesons, too, are made of those same even-smaller particles. And, while it took thirty years to search them all out, a total of six more fundamental particles (on top of the six leptons) have been found. Most of the matter we know about only requires two of those particles–plus the electron–but modern physics predicted six, and sure enough, there are six of them.
Meet the QUARKS. Their six kinds are: up, down, charm, strange, top, and bottom. Each kind comes in a matter form and an antimatter form.
Intriguingly, the terminology for “kinds” of quarks is flavors. Other characteristics of quarks and leptons include color, another clue to the pleasure scientists find in these discoveries. For now, we’ll experiment with the flavors of quarks. Unlike real quarks, we will use macroscopic objects that also happen to taste sweet.
As usual, if you’re working with youngsters, begin by reassuring everyone that there will be plenty of time to eat their quarks later. Each person gets one each of the six flavors of candy…quarks. Because the candies will be handled a lot during the first stage, tell them not to open the wrappers yet. Observe the candies. One side has the brand name on it, and the other side is plain. If we put the candy name-side up, we’ll call it a quark, and if it has the plain side up, we’ll call it an antiquark.
A meson is formed by pairs of one quark and one antiquark. Give the group some time to see just how many combinations can be made of such pairs. (A few special mesons combine two or three such pairs, in quark combinations.)
This will take some cooperation–participants will want to get together and different groups will organize their tests differently. Meanwhile, if you have access to a whiteboard or poster paper, you can sketch out a list of simple mesons shown below. For smaller (or older) groups, you can also pass out copies of this grid and let everyone check off the combinations as they are discovered.
What’s important from this exercise is realizing that all of these two-quark combinations can really happen. Some of the mesons are the ones that help stick nuclei together. Others are found in outer space, as cosmic rays. Others are only found when scientists smash other particles together to find out what they are made of. Recently, the last of the mesons described by this model was detected by an international team of physicists, using the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, in Switzerland. This prompted huge celebrations by physicists and the process inspired a documentary film about the search for the Higgs Boson, Particle Fever.
When I ran this project at BayCon in 2017, one of the young participants scanned the list above and said, “What about the top quark?” Trust a science-fiction fan to spot an anomaly. Indeed, none of the known mesons make use of the top quark, which is the most elusive one of all, and in some ways the most peculiar. The top quark is extremely unstable–even more ephemeral than the strange, charm, and bottom quarks–and it requires a large particle accelerator to observe one. (Fermilab managed it first; now CERN‘s Large Hadron Collider holds the record.) Even then, once produced, a top quark vanishes in 1/1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000th of a second. The top quark is also amazingly massive, fueling the deep interest in the nature of mass itself, which many think is one of the functions of the Higgs boson, which itself has only recently been (tentatively) observed. Scientists at CERN hope to use the relatively massive top quark as a test laboratory to verify their (provisional) Higgs boson observations.
Three-quark particles are called baryons–the most common of these are protons and neutrons. The next step for our own quark exploration is to find the combination of up and down quarks that yields the proton and the one that forms a neutron. Each person has 2 peppermint and 2 of one other color to play with. Each group can also pool resources (still keeping those candy wrappers on) to mix and match groups of three using only 2 colors of candy.
To sort out which of these combinations works requires one extra piece of information. We know that an electron has a charge of -1, a proton has a charge of +1, and a neutron is neutral, with a charge of zero. Another cool feature of quarks…and one of the hardest things their discoverers had to come to terms with…is that they have fractional charges. Before quarks, everyone used to think of a charge…equal to the electric charge of an electron…as an indivisible thing. Just like an atom. But just as it has turned out that atoms aren’t indivisible, neither is charge.
Up quark’s charge: +2/3
Down quark’s charge: -1/3
So, with just a little arithmetic, we can find out which of our combinations makes a proton and which makes a neutron. Here’s the cheat sheet:
2/3 + 2/3 + 2/3 = 2
Positive…but too much for a proton
(-1/3) + (-1/3) + (-1/3) = -1
Negative, so it can’t be a proton or a neutron.
Note: it’s not an electron either–remember, an electron is already an elementary particle.
2/3 + 2/3 + (-1/3) = 1
OK! It’s a proton!
(Just a reminder…the order the quarks are listed in doesn’t matter.)
-1/3 + (-1/3) + 2/3 = 0
Yes! We have discovered the neutron!
So, the charge calculations show that protons and neutrons are made of two ups plus one down for a proton and two downs plus one up for a neutron.
It’s possible to have participants glue their protons and neutron quark groups together. A dip on the water cup from the atomic marshmallow project will make a candy piece sticky. However, these sticky messes will need to sit aside for a while to dry. If your participants include young children, you might want to skip that possibility, as a glued-up stack of Life-Savers could be a choking hazard.
Speaking of glue, the same BayCon2017 participants also suggested some ideas for incorporating gluons into our model. To cover the topic of quantum chromodynamics would be a fun challenge, but for the present, those lonely orange LifeSavers we’d set aside as those transient top quarks can be added between the red and white candies in our proton and neutron models to represent the color exchanges among the quarks.
So now we have established that everything in matter is made of tiny (and flavorful) points of dancing energy called quarks and leptons. How can we visualize the true relative sizes of these quarks, protons, nuclei, and atoms?
Poke a pin through a piece of paper and hold it up to the light, then pass it around, so everyone can see how tiny that hole is. Think of that bright speck as an electron or a quark. To be at the same scale, our helium nucleus would be about 3 feet across. A handy meter-stick or yardstick will provide a sense of scale, but for drama, bring out a huge balloon (the 36-inch size). It won’t be edible, but it will be fun to play with afterwards. If that big old balloon is the tiny nucleus, then to build a whole helium atom we’d need a marshmallow about seven miles (ten kilometers) across!
So let’s check back on our atom model from the atomic marshmallow project. It’s mostly nothing, just that airy, fluffy marshmallow. Remember how thin the “shell” of the electron cloud is, and how surprisingly hard it is to notice the tiny nucleus once the two little protons and neutrons were placed inside. Even so, in our model, the protons and neutrons are huge compared with the atom. Imagine how fantastic the resulting candy treat would be–and how many people could enjoy it–if we’d tried to make this marshmallow atom model to scale.
Now that you have all of your supplies ready, it’s time to guide your group through the construction of a model atom.
Start by handing out the marshmallows and ice-cream topping pieces. With younger participants, it can maintain focus if you mention that there are extra supplies for snacking on afterwards.
Start with the marshmallow. Most of an atom is empty space. And most of a marshmallow is nothing but air frothed into sugar. So this marshmallow represents the “empty” space of an atom. For older participants, you can encourage them to think of the sugar of the marshmallow as representing not only the energy that permeates what we call “empty” space but also the forces that hold the atom together.
For a very long time, the atom was believed to be more-or-less of uniform density, an amorphous mixture of tiny negative particles called electrons swirling around in a positively-charged “pudding.” In 1911, Ernst Rutherford and his team completed a series of experiments that shocked the physics community by revealing that most of the mass of an atom is concentrated in a tiny, central nucleus containing all of the positive charge. For our model, in honor of Rutherford, we’ll build a helium (He) atom, which has a nucleus containing two protons and two neutrons. (Much of Rutherford’s research focused on the alpha particle–which happens to be exactly the same as a helium nucleus.)
Let your dark-colored candies be protons and your light-colored candies be neutrons. (It doesn’t really matter, but textbooks often draw protons as dark dots and neutrons as white dots.)
Using the wooden skewer or toothpick, drill a small hole in the side of the marshmallow.
Now use the same toothpick or skewer to push those nucleons (a word which here means “candy pieces representing protons and neutrons”) into the center of the marshmallow.
At this point, we have a positively charged ion, because we haven’t added any electrons yet. A helium atom needs two electrons, negatively-charged particles, to balance out the two positively-charged protons. Once it was established that the positive charge is concentrated in the nucleus, where did researchers decide that the electrons belong?
This is a good time in the activity to stop lecturing and instead gather suggestions from the participants and sketch their ideas on a board if you have one, or to gather around some sketching paper for discussion purposes. You can expect to see pictures that look much like a planetary system, because that’s the way the atom often (still!) is drawn in textbooks. You might have a knowledgeable participant who’ll shout out something like, “Shells! The electrons are in shells!” or “They’re in the Cloud!” Regardless, during the discussion, build on these volunteered suggestions to reach a description of the electrons as whirling around the nucleus in a cloud, going so fast that you can’t really tell exactly where they are, only that you know roughly how far they are from the nucleus.
Our helium atom’s two electrons do indeed share an electron “shell”, a layer of electrons a known distance from the nucleus. So let’s put a very thin, energetic, sparkly shell around our atom.
Before setting up the shell supplies, pause to demonstrate the procedure. If you’re working with younger students, you may need to stress that everyone will get their turn. If the “mess” part of the activity is an issue, set up a protected area where the messy activity is OK and let the participants queue up to build their atoms in assembly-line fashion.
Each group needs a container with about a cup of water in it and another container with a packet of dry gelatin mix emptied into it. (For fun, choose a gelatin color in keeping with whatever events are ongoing, or a local sports team’s colors…anything to drive interest.)
To create the “electron shell” skewer the marshmallow firmly on the wooden stick, then very briefly dunk it into the water, then tap off any excess water into the water container.
Tapping off excess water is important, because otherwise the marshmallow can get soggy, which makes for a less-attractive candy atom.
Finally, gently swirl the damp marshmallow in the gelatin mix.
Set the decorated marshmallows aside on a sheet of waxed paper or a plate.
As time permits, participants can make other atoms…stuffing different numbers of protons or neutrons into marshmallows and adding a shell of electrons.
As hinted in the previous post, for our universe-building project we’re doing two construction activities related to elementary particles. So, we’ll have two “Lists of Requirements” this time around. The model atoms use marshmallows, miniature candy chips, and gelatin mix. You’ll need just one packet of mixed-flavor candies for even a fairly large group–in advance, you can separate out flavors into the amounts needed. For sub-atomic particles, we’ll use multi-flavor candies, such as “Life-Savers”…we need six flavors, so you get to buy both peppermint and five-flavor mixtures. Depending on your workspace, you may choose to have participants work in table groups of of 3-4 people or to set up supplies assembly-line style in a relatively mess-friendly zone. The assembly-line method reduces the need for extra supplies, though these are quite inexpensive materials. For pre-preparation, it helps to count out supplies for each participant–small paper cups are ideal and stack neatly once your supplies are set up. Another helpful side item is a roll of waxed paper or a stack of paper plates for setting out the end-products while they dry or for taking them home.
One extra item, for your wrap-up, is highly recommended if your budget permits: pick up one humongous balloon–the 36-inch diameter size, in any color or design that delights you.
The recommended quantities are generous, to allow for after-project treats. Ice-cream sundaes, anyone?
The Atomic Marshmallow Project
For a group of 10
For a group of 30
Standard size (not miniature) marshmallows
Miniature candies, dark color*: try candy “decors” or extra-tiny chocolate chip ice-cream topping mixture
1 package of mixed candies: count out at least 20 dark-colored pieces
1 package of mixed candies: count out at least 20 dark-colored pieces
Miniature candies: light color*: try candy “decors” or extra-tiny white candy chip ice-cream topping mixture
From the same packet of mixed-flavor candies: count out at least 20 light-colored pieces
From the same packet of mixed-flavor candies: count out at least 60 light-colored pieces.
(choose a variety of fun, colorful flavors)
(one per group of 3-4 people)
For an assembly line:
(one per group of 3-4 people)
For each assembly line:
Wooden skewers (alternative: toothpicks)
10-16 ounce containers
(mugs, plastic cups, reused food containers)
For groups: 16
For each assembly line: 2
Small cups for sorting supplies
* IMPORTANT NOTE: If you’re tempted to use peanut-flavor candies, remember to be SURE to check in advance that none of the participants suffers from peanut allergy. In its worst form, this allergy can trigger anaphylaxis merely through physical contact with peanut oils or proteins, but at the very least, peanut-sensitive people should not eat anything tagged “packed in same location as peanut-handling equipment” or “may contain nuts”. There are lots of different candy chips to choose from; just be sure you end up with two different colors of “chips” for the protons and neutrons.
The second project’s list is even easier, and doesn’t require a “mess zone”:
One Side Makes You Smaller
A Top-Down Search for the Strange Charm of Putting Up With Those Quarks at Bottom of the Universe
The counts of candies in a mixed bag of five-flavor candies is a bit random, so if buying for a group you may need to grab an extra bag, just in case you need it. The package of sorting cups you purchased for the Atomic Marshmallow Project will have enough for you to sort supplies for this project as well.
Per 10 people
For 30-person group
Five-flavor Life-Savers candies
1 of each color,
a total of 5
each gets 5 total, 1 of each color
(2 bags of individually-wrapped Life-Savers)
each gets 5 total, 1 of each color
(6 bags of individually-wrapped Life-Savers)
1 extra piece of one of the five flavors
(There should be enough left over from the 2 bags you’ve purchased.)
(There should enough left over from the 6 bags you’ve purchased.)
I have a pair of projects to present this time–together, they are a sugar-based approach to understanding the building blocks of our universe. The goal is to build up a sense of the scale and dynamic relationships among the smallest particles identified to date, and how they combine to form the stuff we call “matter”. By the end of these activities, everyone participating should have a clearer picture of the following:
1. All of the matter in our universe is composed of just a few extremely basic and very tiny building blocks. They’re called quarks and leptons.
2.These building blocks, in the right combinations, make the next-level construction materials. The most common ones are electrons, protons, and neutrons. But there are others, too.
3. Once you have electrons, protons, and neutrons, you can build elements. Each element has particular physical and chemical properties–which arise from its unique physical composition of protons, electrons, and neutrons.
To make this activity fun (besides incorporating sweet treats), it helps to build into the presentation an element of discovery. First, we come to terms with the fact that the familiar atom is not the smallest particle. Second, we wrap our minds around the knowledge that even the tiny particles inside the atomic nucleus are made of even tinier ones. Third, at the conclusion, it’s truly mind-expanding to try to envision each of these in true relative scale.
The atom is still a meaningful idea, so long as we adjust its definition to suit modern understanding. The concept of the atom dates back over 2500 years, to Leucippus of Miletus and his more-famous student, Democritus. They reasoned out that if you keep cutting a material, you’ll eventually reach a particle that cannot be divided further. In Greek, the word “a” means “not” and “tomos” means cut, so when you call something an “atom,” you’re saying you can’t subdivide it. However, even now that we know that the structures we call “atoms” can be broken open, we still use the term. For instance, we’ll talk about “an atom of iron” or “the carbon atom”. But instead of defining the atom as “indivisible”, we now describe it as the smallest unit of a material that still retains those unique physical and chemical properties defined by its combination of electrons, protons, and neutrons.
In this project, we will build atoms from electrons, protons, and neutrons. Energized by our constructions, we will discard our preconceptions about the structure of the universe and descend to the sub-sub atomic scale, where we will capture quarks and leptons, then build ourselves some protons and neutrons and electrons. And then we will eat the lot: atoms, quarks, protons and all. It’s elemental.
We’ll proceed in two parts: “The Atomic Marshmallow Project” introduces the idea of atoms and their components, and “One Side Will Make You Smaller” takes us down into the realm of quarks. As in our other science projects, we’ll include information to share with the participants as you go along. For those who would like to delve into more detail, you’ll find links to good sources with plenty of depth.