Thermometer Life
Thermometer. A simple, normal gadget used by simple, normal people to measure the temperature of either their bodies or something around them. Technically, the bulb of the thermometer should be fully covered to record the temperature with the maximum accuracy.
But then, simple inventions aren’t always used the way they are meant to be. Especially when they are being handled by brilliant, out-of-the-world masterpieces, whose only safe state of existence is as a Crazy Humans Museum exhibit.
A classic example of such a masterpiece was my friend Sam. Known throughout school for his academic brilliance, his grades at school were something his normal classmates could only dream of. His interests ranged from the Pacific ocean floor to white board markers used in class, and everything in between. You’d find Sam in every possible club at school- book club, drama club, environment club, and so on. Name a club, and you’ll find him on the list.
One interest of his which particularly stood out was thermometers. It was more like an obsession, in my opinion. He enjoyed collecting (read buying) thermometers and he was proud of his collection. No one really understood where his pride came from, for all the thermometers were of the same make. I’m quite sure he had even named a few, but I never asked him about it.
His expertise on building up use cases of thermometers was unmatched. Every now and then, he would come with insanely ridiculous ways to make use of a thermometer. I’ll mention two of them for the readers to get a glimpse into his amazing brain.
First, he always carried four thermometers with him in his backpack, irrespective of the location and occasion. School, birthday parties, church- he carried his standard setup everywhere. The reason: “to keep a constant track of the temperature inside the backpack and of it’s immediate surroundings”. But it’s not like he was using an electronic thermometer which would keep track of the data. He was using the classic laboratory thermometer which showed the temperature of an object only while the bulb was completely covered. Therefore, the reading changed the moment the contact was lost, unlike the regular thermometers used to measure the body temperature. Hence, how his objective of keeping constant record of the temperature was being satisfied, was an unanswered question.
Second, he made a cardboard box with two big holes, and a third one which was significantly smaller. The bigger holes were for the passage of air while the smaller one was for fitting in the thermometer. Sam wanted to use this box to measure the temperature of the air which was being thrown out of the computer. The box was attached to the exhaust of the computer, with one of the bigger holes to let the hot air into the box. The second big hole was on a face adjacent to that containing the first hole. This hole acted as the exit for the hot air entering through the first hole. The smaller hole for the thermometer was placed opposite to the first hole, so that the heated air would be incident directly on the bulb of the thermometer. Like the previous example, the actual objective made perfect sense to precisely no one apart from Sam.
Now, what no one really bothered to point out to him was that his technique for measuring the temperature was slightly faulty. In order to correctly do the measurement, the bulb must be completely covered by the substance whose temperature is being measured. This logic works perfectly well for solid and liquid substances, but when it comes to gaseous substances, the atmospheric air for example, things get slightly tricky. Simply dangling the thermometer in the air probably doesn’t get the job done. And blowing the air on it doesn’t cut it either. Unfortunately, my dear friend Sam wasn’t aware of this. Every day he’d take his readings at random throughout the day and make a note of them in a tiny notebook.
We were in the chemistry laboratory, eagerly (only Sam, duh) waiting to start with our experiment. We were supposed to note the temperatures of two liquids at first, mix them to initiate a chemical reaction between them, and make a note of the temperature, five minutes after mixing them.
As my luck would have it, I ended up getting paired with Sam for that laboratory session. At first, I wasn’t very happy about it. But then I remembered how habituated Sam was with using the laboratory thermometer, so I decided that I can sit back and be assured that we’ll get the correct readings. The experiment was graded and I was happy that I would get a guaranteed one hundred percent score in it. I took the initial readings of the liquid when they were in separate test-tubes and then initiated the proceedings of my chilling-out time while Sam mixed the two reactant liquids and set the timer to five minutes.
I was gazing out of the window, admiring the beauty of the view which basically consisted of a semi-barren hill, oblivious to what was happening around me. It is really interesting how well one can get lost in appreciating the greenery on a semi-barren hill and falling for the ever so philosophical question of whether the hill was half barren or half covered with trees. One starts to describe the ingenious of God’s creation with words the conscious part had never seen or heard. The human brain’s true powers come to the forefront when one is sitting and waiting for their partner to take the final reading of the experiment, only to leave the laboratory grinning for they received the maximum grade.
This little daydream, or rather my nature appreciation session, came to an abrupt end when I heard the teacher saying that the reading was wrong. By a huge margin. This unceremonious declaration of the inaccuracy of the final reading brought me crashing into the reality. I could see the teacher write a “D” next to our names. Never in my short life had I received such a grade. Okay, forget about me. Sam got a “D”- no way that was real. Sam, the protege, could never get such a lowly grade. But it had just happened.
Before I could do anything about it, the teacher was already walking away. There was nothing that could be done anyway, for we had been generously awarded with a “D” grade for the experiment.
I looked up at the setup and I immediately saw where the mistake had been made. There was nothing wrong with Sam’s ability to take measurements or with his accuracy. The error was in the placement of the thermometer in the setup. It was in the very place it shouldn’t have been- right above the perfectly prepared liquid mixture, dangling from the burette stand.
