Thomas Kozar

Professor Ornes

CSET 2100

November 12, 2019

It is almost midnight. I trudge through the cool, autumn air to my dorm after a long stint in the

library. I am still trying to decipher a particularly tricky problem for an assignment due next week as a

large gust of wind chills me to the bone. I start to shiver. “I really should have brought a jacket.”, I think

to myself and briskly trot toward the door to my dorm. As I climb the stairs leading to my room feeling

tired, cold, and overworked, I feel a sense of relief. I am finally done for the day. It is time to relax. I

tread into my room and haphazardly slump my backpack onto my desk chair, crawl into bed, and start

playing an episode of The Office on Netflix. Finally nestled in my bed sheets, all the stresses of life melt

away. They are problems for another day.

Unexpectedly, a relentless, beeping cacophony fills the air. The fire alarm puts an abrupt end to

my moment of peace. Frustrated, I let out an audible sigh, slip on some shoes, and march outside. As I

walk, I begin to grumpily envision the illicit candle or the burnt piece of toast that is disrupting my night.

Once outside, I begrudgingly sink into a bench next my dorm and drift off into an autumnal nap.

Suddenly, I am shrunk down to the size of an atom and a billow of smoke raises me towards a

detector on the roof above me. As I slip through the thin, oblong slits in the white plastic case, I am

greeted with an array of technology, below me a circuit board lined with resistors and capacitor, to my

left a 9-volt battery towers over me, and to my right is a large, metallic horn. In front of me, sits a

menacing black plastic dome with the words “Ionization Chamber” molded into the side.

Intrigued, I enter the chamber to find a room with large metal disks on the floor and ceiling.

These disks are the electrodes that detect the presence of smoke. In the center of the room is a hole

with alpha particles erupting out of it like the most explosive volcanic one has ever seen. These alpha
particles are the result of the radioactive decay of the element americium. Americium is a very large,

unstable atom, and at its center, or nucleus, is a dense core of particles called protons and neutrons.

These particles are normally held tightly together by a mysterious property called the strong nuclear

force. In massive elements, such as Americium, particles of the nucleus are sometimes able to overcome

that force, launching two protons and two neutrons, an alpha particle, out of the atom. While the

detector contains only ten grains of sand worth of americium, the sample undergoes random

radioactive decay events at an astounding rate of 37,000 times a second.

As these alpha particles rush into the chamber, they slam into air molecules causing the air

molecules to lose a particle known as an electron. As its name suggests, when an atom loses an electron

it gains an electric charge in a process called ionization. The electrons rush to the electrode on the floor,

while the rest of the charged air molecule soars to the electrode on the ceiling. The act of these particles

moving to the electrodes creates an infinitesimally small electrical current, roughly 100 billion times

smaller than the current running through an electrical socket. This minute current provides a sufficient

buffer to keep the alarm from going off.

As the smoke behind me began to trickle into the chamber, the behavior of the ionized air

molecules changed. Instead of heading straight to the electrodes, they became caught up in the smoke

and lost their charge. This stops the small flow of electricity, allowing the alarm to emit its characteristic

screech.

Just as the alarm was about to trumpet, a glacial burst of air awoke me from my nap. I looked

around, everyone seemed to have gone back inside from the alarm a long time. As I plodded back into

my room and crawled back into bed, I began to appreciate the amazing piece of technology the smoke

detector is. Despite its nuisance tonight, it can be a real lifesaver.