Matter Is Composed of Nothing

Matter Is Composed Of Nothing

Matter is composed chiefly of nothing. I am made of atoms. My elbow, which is resting on the table before me, is made of atoms. The table is made of atoms. But if atoms are so small and empty and the nuclei smaller still, why does the table hold me up? Why, as Arthur Eddington liked to ask, do the nuclei that comprise my elbow not slide effortlessly through the nuclei that comprise the table? Why don’t I wind up on the floor? Or fall straight through the Earth?

The answer is the electron cloud. The outside of an atom in my elbow has a negative electrical charge. So does every atom in the table. But negative charges repel each other. My elbow does not slither trough the table because atoms have electrons around their nuclei and because electrical forces are strong. Everyday life depends on the structure of the atom. Turn off the electrical charges and everything crumbles to an invisible fine dust. Without electrical forces, there would no longer be things in the universe – merely diffuse clouds of electrons, protons and neutrons, and gravitating spheres of elementary particles, the featureless remnants of the worlds.

When we talk about infinity, we are talking about a quantity greater than any number, no matter how large. Image: ©  Elena

When we consider cutting an apple pie, continuing down beyond a single atom, we confront an infinity of the very large. These infinities represent an unending regress that goes on not just very far, but forever. If you stand between two mirrors – in a barber shop, say – you see a large number of images of yourself, each the reflection of another. You cannot see an infinity of images because the mirrors are not perfectly flat and aligned, because light does not travel infinitely fast, and because you are in the way.

What exactly the world matter means? Photo by Elena