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World's Lightest Solid
Erazmus writes: "NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory has manufactured the world's lightest solid. At only 3 milligrams per cubic centimeter, it's close to the density of air (1.2 milligrams per cubic centimeter). Spaceflight Now has the article. The article points to JPL's site, along with some amazing pictures."
The aerogel is so old (1932) that this isn't even funny ...
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That's just a challenge to the Materials Science Engineers. Maybe that can make He-gel or H2-gel and get the *solid* material to be lighter than air... at least until gas-diffusion takes over and replaces all of the H2/He with O2. A thin membrane around the outside might even prevent this from happening! I can't wait for (air)floating surfboards and cloud-cities.
take a look at the aerogel photogallery.
Upon seaching Google for the cost of this stuff I ran across Aerogel Super-Insulation made by Aspen Aerogels. They don't have prices on their sites but it looks like somebody is trying to make an insulation product out of it. It says they are trying to break into the 20 billion dollar insulation market and that mass adoption of the product would greatly reduce fossil fuel use around the world.
Where can I get my hands on some of this stuff?
Seriously, how expensive is it to manufacture this stuff? If it were relatively inexpensive (or if it would be if produced in sufficiently large quantities) I could think of thousands of uses for it. Or rather, I could do thousands of useless things with it. At the very least, it would be neat to build a PC case out of it.
Anybody know?
I just found another article about this aerogel. It's not too long, but it does have some worthwhile information. Check it out.
Fate, chance, karma, whatever you wanna call it -- when Miss Fortune spreads her legs for you, you're already in over your head. Believe me, I know.
...
Bunny LaFever looked like a dame with more curves and venom than Reggie Peeler's Land O' Snakes. But she wasn't a real dame. She was a she-devil. That golden bush of hers was nothing but a welcome mat to hell.
But now I'm getting way ahead of myself. Bunny had a way of doing that to jerks like me. She twisted us inside out and turned our heads around so we couldn't think straight anymore. So lemme begin at the beginning
Carnies got a word for a crooked game operator like me. They call me "Flattie" cuz I'll flat-out rob you and make you like it.
My name's Randy Everhard and I've got a million ways to take your money. One of my personal favorites is the "hopper shot." It's tossing softballs into toilet seats, which you've seen on every midway in your life. I could gaff the joint to make it impossible to win.
But where's the fun in that? I work it so any chucklehead can win all night long. Cuz once I've hooked a live one into thinking he can take me for a ride, that's when I nail him with the "build-up." Caught up in the excitement of winning game after game, the rube's built up to play twenty games at two bucks a pop. And the only prize he's going home with is a teddy bear that cost me three shekels per, wholesale. You do the math, Einstein.
The problem with selling three-dollar plush for forty scoots is that the build-up only pays off if you've got a steady string of suckers. And that night was turning out to be a real larry. The Laff Riot carnival was a flattie's wet dream. The grab joints and flashy rides were a front for the real action: flat stories, alibi and percentage joints, crap tables, slot machines, fortune wheels.
The show was running wide open. Everybody crooked and every joint gaffed and nobody doing a damn thing to stop it. I figured the cops were greased slicker 'n Liberace's asshole. It should've been like shooting trout in a barrel. Too bad nobody was taking my bait. I was up shit creek without a paddle to piss on.
My first goddamn night with the show, and already I was itchy for a new angle.
I can't remember which one of them I saw first: the blonde come-on dressed like she had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide or the square in the coke bottle glasses who was eyeballing her like she was nothing but something to look at. Of course, that Coppertone beauty really was something to look at. She was turning heads and raising dicks all over the place. But I didn't like him getting his eyes all over this piece of 100 percent corn-fed cocktease.
She was stacked like a double-decker Ferris wheel with nipples that could cut glass. The red double-O's stenciled on her football jersey were stretched over humongous hooters. She looked like a shooting gallery, bursting at the seams. You couldn't miss those twin titty targets. I'm talking knockers so big you could still see them when she turned around. And believe you me, she was one woman who looked as good going as she did coming.
She wore a pair of daring Daisy Dukes that were so short and tight her crotch sucked them in. The denim over her ass was thread-bare, blown out like a retread. And if that wasn't enough, she was doing a number on a grape Popsicle to make your peter wish it was frozen on a stick. That girl was one carnival ride I wanted to jump on quick, and I didn't care how many tickets it cost.
In my racket, though, business comes before pleasure. And this looked like a golden opportunity to work the key scam. It's the oldest con in the carny book.
I jumped the counter and made my way over to the chump with the steamed-up glasses. I was like, "Hot enough for ya? And I ain't talking about the weather, fella." At first he didn't buy it when I told him I was the "manager" of this fine talent. He just stood there mopping his brow with a hanky.
"I don't fuck chickens and I don't shit feathers," I said, "and I wouldn't lie about a piece of ass like that, neither." I gave myself a hard-on feeding him the fast talk: screwing her would make a man think he died and gone to heaven, where the streets are paved with solid gold snatch.
"She's a sight for sore eyes, ain't she? And if you think I'm giving you lip, you oughta see her go to town on a dick. Life-transforming, friend. Life-transforming." I pulled out an old key I kept for just such an occasion. Dangling it before his bug eyes, I spieled how it was the key to her room at some motel outside of town. "I'm talking once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, pal. She's the reason hard-ons were made."
He swallowed it all -- hook, line and sinker.
Chuckling over what he was going to tell his wife when he came home minus his paycheck, I made my way over to the sultry sex kitten. She was throwing heat like a furnace. Melting chocolate bars at twenty paces. It was too hot to fuck, but next to her, that scorcher felt like a cool, seaside breeze.
"I just made you twenty bucks, and all you had to do was stand here looking gorgeous, Gorgeous." She didn't say anything, just looked me up and down and blinked those big baby blues. The sheen of sweat on her face glowed under the neon lights. She'd sucked all the flavor out of the end of the Popsicle, so the tip was white.
I fished out a crisp, new bill and passed it over. She let it rest in the palm of her hand as she stared at it, confused. She tried giving it back to me, but I stopped her. "See that guy over there?" I asked, stepping aside to give her a glimpse. "He just paid me a lot of money to sleep with you."
He what?" she goes, insulted. She threw down what was left of her Popsicle and took a step closer. Her eyes burned like a butane flame. Like most women, she looked better when she was steamed. But I didn't want her making a scene. She was liable to blow the act.
"Don't get yer panties in a bunch," I said, shutting her cakehole with my hand. I told her about the con and then nervously took my hand away. I was sure she was gonna blow up again. But she kept quiet. I told her we had to scram and didn't give her a chance to say no. I just put my arm around her waist and steered her toward the exit gates. I gave Pops a back-handed wave as we booked outta there double-time.
My dick is long and my cons are short. Cop and blow, that's my motto -- take the money and run. Otherwise things got a way of getting ugly.
Two minutes later, we were hauling ass down the highway in my supercharged Chevy Menace. It was an acid green two-door with cheetah seat covers, four on the floor and dual exhaust. Twin cams and 440 horses under the hood.
"Say," I said, "what's your name, anyway?"
I was hoping to get to know every inch of her better. She smelled like coconut oil. Her tanned skin gave off heat like asphalt that'd been baking in the sun all day.
"Bunny," she goes. "Bunny LaFever." She was a real piece, too. I couldn't wait to do all sorts of dirty things to her. "How much you take him for?" she asked. "Two-fifty." In actuality I scored three-fifty. But if there's one thing I know about women, it's never tell them exactly how much money you've got.
Back at my room at the God bless America Truckstop Motel, she showed me that that sweet and innocent show was just a put-on. I was glad, though. I prefer a girl with some experience under her belt.
Before I knew it, she was all over me like stink on shit. Purple from the Popsicle, her tongue sprung to the back of my throat and then snaked all over the inside of my mouth like she was mining the gold fillings out of my teeth. Despite all the tongue wrasslin,' her hands were nowhere near where I wanted them to be.
My dick had been so hard for so long I thought it would blast off like a rocket, but she kept her distance. The teasing was cute at first but enough was enough. I grabbed her hands and planted them on the tent pole in my pants.
She pulled away and took a few steps back.
"You trying to insult me? You think you can have this body for free?" Bunny squeezed her 'lopes together, serving them up for my hungry eyes: "These tits alone cost five bucks to look at."
I chuckled nervously. "C'mon," I go, "quit screwing around."
"I'm totally serious. Five bucks or I'm gone."
I started laughing for real, digging the little swindler. What else could I do but pay up? She had me right were she wanted me.
This was one of those times in a man's life when he knows his dick's doing the brainwork but he doesn't care. Whatever the dick wants, the dick gets. That right there's the whole story of my life.
I plucked a five-spot from my wallet and waved it like a flag of surrender. She just looked at it. "I don't want your money now," she goes. "Pay me later."
"Whatever you say." And I just eased back on the bed to enjoy the show.
She peeled off her T-shirt and out bounced those giant, all-natural juggs. She had razor sharp tan lines from the sling of a skimpy bikini top. You could tell from her nips that the air-conditioning was on full-blast.
Bunny danced around the room, wiggling and shaking everything her momma gave her. I looked her up and down until I could've guessed her weight. She had all the right parts in all the right places and then some.
She neared the bed and leaned over me to let those massive, all-American melons swing inches above my face. "Wanna taste them?" she goes. As if she had to ask.
I lifted my head to suck the tantalizing titties into my mouth, but she snatched them away.
"Five bucks," she goes.
"All right, five bucks."
"Five bucks each, big spender."
"You got it."
"Pay me later," she cooed, and moved closer to bury me beneath her treasure chest. "Mmm," she purred, "you suck real good."
"Damn straight," I mumbled. "You're getting my money's worth."
She only laughed as her fingers spider-walked down to my crotch and unzipped my fly. "You'd like a tit-fuck, wouldn't you?"
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Some girls are mind readers, but Bunny LaFever was the first dick reader I ever had the pleasure to meet.
"Twenty bucks," she barked.
I was like, "A bargain at twice the price. Pay you later?"
"That's right, bright boy."
We switched places on the bed so that she was on her back. I kicked off my shoes and pulled down my pants and underwear. This dick of mine's got its own zip code and time zone.
When she gripped the shaft, her fingers didn't reach all the way around. She was like, "Lucky for you I'm still in my size-is-everything phase."
"Me, too," I said, dropping to my knees to straddle her. My hard-on slipped between her cleavage like a hot dog in its steamed bun. She pressed them together to make the sandwich good and tight as I began my strokes.
I humped her hooters harder to push my dick closer to her succulent mouth. She stuck out her pink tongue and tickled the tip. Back and forth it fluttered over the head.
"There's a freebie," she giggled. "But I won't take one in the mouth for less than twenty."
"How much to swallow?"
She had to think that one over. "Thirty," she answered. "And that's only cuz I like you."
I dismounted and stood beside the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress to let her mouth get better acquainted with my cock. Her tongue twirled over my shaft until it looked like a monument of polished marble.
She blew me good and slow, repeatedly bringing me to the edge of orgasm and then stopping until the urge melted away.
The build-up felt so good it hurt. I never begged anyone for anything before. But tortured by her talented tongue, I was actually begging for mercy.
After some more tongue lashing, she finally let me fill her mouth. She swallowed, too, and it felt like my whole body was sliding down with it.
What if you made a hollow sphere of aerogel? How large could you make it and still be structurally sound while containing a vacuum? Or perhaps fill it with Helium? Either way, you could make blocks that are lighter than air.
The engineering possibilities...
Natelie Porman petrified in aerogel?
The masses are the crack whores of religion.
What I find remarkable about this substance is not so much its density as the fact that it's strong, too.
There's a great image of a block of this stuff supporting a brick 1,000 times its mass.
That strength is all compression; I don't know how it responds to shear, or tension, or if it's flexible.
Well...this is a ridiculously old story and don't know why it came up, but since we're talking about it...here is the home page for the stuff at NASA. The stuff can stand incredible amounts of pressure, but be sure not to try to tear it...it will. And to see the stuff is just cool. I mean this solid just looks like it floats on you. Oh, and it's a rather expensive manufacturing process, which is why it hasn't found use in your home yet...
"Time is long and life is short, so begin to live while you still can." -EV
<p>In two places, the article claims aerogel to have a density "1000 times less" than that of glass. If that's true, then that means it has <i>negative</i> density.</p>
<p>Consider this: What would be the density of something 0 times less dense than glass? (The same as that of glass, of course.) How about something 1 time less dense than glass? (Multiply the density of glass by 1 and subtract: It has 0 density.) So anything beyond 1 multiple means <i>it isn't there</i>.</p>
Rob
At 600 to 1000 m^s/g of surface area it wouldn't take much H2 adhesion to make this a relatively good h2 storage medium. Coating the surface with a monoatomic layer of Ni would seem quite a feat, however. On the other hand if we looked around hard enough we might find a hemoglobin like analogue for hydrogen.
This stuff has some bizarre properties-- mostly air but a great thermal insulator, ridiculously fragile, water soluble, translucent...
If someone figures out how to make this stuff cheaply and in a form that Joe Sixpack the general contractor can slap into building walls without any special care as a thermal (and acoustic? The article mentioned something about 'low sound speed') insulation material, that person will get ultra rich.
Either that, or find a way to make the stuff transparent enough to be used for windows. Hell, if they can toughen it up somehow, it looks see-through enough now to make a nice skylight that won't leak heat like a sieve in the wintertime.
~Philly
In other news, there's been an astonishing breakthrough in the aerospace industry -- jet-powered aeroplanes! These new jet-planes promise to unite the world as travel times are cut in half across the globe. Stay tuned for more breaking news!
I'd buy some setup to look good on my desk.
Gizmos Gagets For Ninjas
OK, I was looking at the JPL site, and I must say that this picture is just amazing. The brick is 2.5 Kg, and the aerogel holding it up is 2 g. Just completely amazing, even if the basic technology is years old. Actually, especially because it is so old.
Geez I find it hard to believe this is the first mention of aerogel on slashdot. This shit is old, anybody who reads Popular Mechanics has read all sorts of stuff about aerogels. For those wondering about the expense of aerogels in production, lab techniques for producing them are pretty costly. IIRC you make them with various metal oxides reacting to form what's called an alcogel which has a 3D lattice of silica molecules with water suspended in the cells of the lattice. The water is forced out of the gel by soaking it in pure alcohol. The new gel is called an alcogel which is then dried supercritically. This forces the alcohol out of the gel leaving only the silica structure left. This process it pretty costly and slow which makes aerogel production sort of unsuitable (for now) in massive scales. There's lots of work being done to find shortcuts in this process, the most promising I recall reading about was to do the supercritical drying in vacuum molding chambers like used in regular plastic molding.
Even cooler than aerogels are hydrogels which instead of being 99.8% air they are like 99% water with a silica lattice structure. There's a bit of work researching hydrogels for use in medicine. Hydrogel strips could be used as bandaids for internal oragans and some other stuff I don't rightly recall at the moment. Aerogels rock.
I'm a loner Dottie, a Rebel.
That girl holding up a sample... if it is lighter than air, why doesn't it float? Or why didn't they take the picture without woman's hand?
Air pressure must have been low that day... rain...
reason defies logic
The gel walls are quite thin. Air would diffuse in and hydrogen would diffuse out, eliminating the advantage.
The clearance system sounds logical. It is not. It is completely arbitrary. -- John Bolton
oops, omit the hydrogen part, i was reading too fast
The clearance system sounds logical. It is not. It is completely arbitrary. -- John Bolton
Rocky and Bullwinkle Show mentioned this stuff. They called it
Upsidaisium. Maybe that's what this stuff should be called
too.
If the aerogel has a density of 3 milligrams per cubic centimemeter, and air has a 1.2 milligrams per cubic centimer, then replacing all of the air in this aerogel with an imaginary massless gas would result in a density of 1.8 milligrams per cubic centimeter, still heavier than air.
However, with further engineering, perhaps someone will invent a solid lighter than air. At that point, I the floating cities that you imagine would probably become as common as floating cities made of blimps are today.