The poincare-section generator
Surfaces of section for the standard map at K = 0.5, 0.9716, 1.4, each 22 trajectories iterated 41 times from a column of starting values. Nothing here is placed: every dot is an iterate. At K = 0.5 the islands are separate and the space between them is filled with curves that run all the way round in θ — *a trajectory cannot get from one island to the next*, and one started beside the hyperbolic fixed point wanders 2.91 in p — 0.46 of a cylinder — and stops. At K = 0.9716, which is Greene's threshold to four figures, the last of those curves is on the point of going and the same trajectory still only reaches 4.84, which is 0.77 of a cylinder. At K = 1.4 it covers 6.1 cylinders: *the barrier is gone and there is nothing left to stop it*. That transition is what a chaotic zone in the asteroid belt is, drawn without any asteroids.
6 essays call
poincare-section. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member
of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
Where it is called
Every figure listed here is the same construction drawn at different numbers, so a correction to one is a correction to all of them.
Where the chaos comes from
A Lyapunov time says how long a prediction lasts. It does not say what destroyed it. The mechanism is two resonances whose libration widths overlap, and the transition can be watched happening on a surface of section as one number is turned up.
Capture is a direction, not a strength
A resonance holds a body that drifts into it from one side and lets go of one that drifts out the other way, and the asymmetry is not about how strong the resonance is. It is the sign of a derivative — whether the trapped region is growing or shrinking — which is why a chain of planets in resonance is direct evidence that they migrated toward each other.
A tilt that is not a constant
The Earth's axis leans by 23.4 degrees, and that lean is what makes the seasons. It is also a dynamical variable with its own equilibria, its own resonances and its own chaos — and on Mars the same variable has swung between nearly zero and sixty degrees without anything having to happen.
A barrier that leaks at a rate that can be computed
When the last invariant curve between two resonances breaks, it does not vanish. It becomes a cantorus — a curve full of gaps — and a chaotic orbit has to find the gaps to get through. The time that takes grows as the cube of how close the system is to the threshold, and it has nothing to do with the Lyapunov time, which is why an orbit can be hopelessly unpredictable and still stay put for the age of the solar system.
A chaotic orbit clings to the edge of order
In a chaotic sea with no islands, an orbit forgets where it was within a few steps, and the time it stays away from any region falls off exponentially. Put islands of regular motion in the sea and the long absences multiply by factors of millions: the orbit reaches an island's edge, is caught in the hierarchy of smaller islands round it, and behaves as if it were regular for thousands of steps. The tail becomes a power law, and a rare few absences carry a large share of the orbit's whole history.
A particle on a line that can spell any word
Two equal stars orbit each other, and a speck of dust moves up and down on the line through their centre, perpendicular to their orbit. It has one coordinate and cannot leave that line. In 1973 Jürgen Moser proved that for almost any list of whole numbers, as long as they are large enough, there is an orbit whose successive excursions last exactly that many periods of the stars. The list can be chosen at random, so the orbit can do anything a coin can.