Take an atom of hydrogen — a single proton with a single electron whizzing round it. Now imagine quietly slipping one extra neutron into its nucleus. You haven't added any protons, so it is still hydrogen: it still reacts the same way, still makes water with oxygen, still sits in the same box on the periodic table. But it is now twice as heavy. Chemists give this heavier hydrogen its own name — deuterium — and it is real: a spoonful of it is floating in every glass of water you drink.
Atoms of the same element that carry different numbers of neutrons are called isotopes. They are the same element wearing different weights. This one idea — same protons, different neutrons — explains heavy water, radioactive decay, carbon dating, and why the atomic masses on the periodic table are almost never whole numbers.
In our lesson on
The number of neutrons, though, is free to vary. Two atoms with the same number of protons but a different number of neutrons are isotopes of each other. They are the same element, but with different masses.
Isotopes are atoms of the same element that differ only in their neutron count:
The two counts that describe any nucleus are the atomic number and the mass number:
where
Scientists write an isotope with two small numbers stacked on the left of the element symbol — the mass number on top and the atomic number on the bottom:
Both of those are carbon — you can tell instantly because the bottom number is
In everyday writing we usually drop the bottom number (it is fixed by the element's name anyway) and just say carbon-12 or carbon-14 — the number after the dash is the mass number.
Good spot — the bottom number really is redundant once you know the element. It is kept because it makes the bookkeeping of nuclear equations foolproof. When a nucleus decays or particles smash together, the top numbers must add up to the same total on both sides, and so must the bottom numbers (charge is conserved). Writing both means you can balance a nuclear reaction just by checking two columns of sums — a trick you will lean on the moment you meet radioactive decay.
An atom is written
Step 1 — read off the two numbers. The bottom number is the atomic number,
Step 2 — protons. Protons = atomic number, so there are
Step 3 — neutrons. Use
Step 4 — electrons. A neutral atom has as many electrons as protons, so
Chlorine comes in two common isotopes,
Step 1 — check the atomic numbers. Both have
Step 2 — neutrons in chlorine-35.
Step 3 — neutrons in chlorine-37.
Step 4 — compare. They share
Here is a carbon nucleus. Carbon always has
Two of the settings are stable (carbon-12 with 6 neutrons and carbon-13 with 7); the rest are radioactive. Carbon-14, with 8 neutrons, is the famous unstable one — hold that thought for the story about dating ancient bones below.
Neutrons act like glue in the nucleus, helping the mutually-repelling protons stick together. Get the balance of neutrons to protons just right and the nucleus sits there, unchanged, essentially forever — it is stable. Get it wrong — too many neutrons, or too few — and the nucleus is unstable: sooner or later it will spit out a particle or a burst of energy to fix the imbalance. Unstable isotopes are exactly what we mean by radioactive.
Some elements you may know by their isotopes:
The key point: whether an isotope is stable or radioactive is set by what is happening in the nucleus. It has nothing to do with the electrons, so it does not change the atom's chemistry one bit — radioactive carbon-14 forms exactly the same carbon dioxide as ordinary carbon-12.
Glance at the periodic table and chlorine's mass is listed as
Chlorine is
Step 1 — multiply each isotope's mass by its abundance.
Step 2 — divide by 100 (the total percentage):
So the "impossible" half-number is really just the average pull of a crowd of two whole-numbered
isotopes — closer to 35 than 37 because the lighter isotope is three times as common. That is why
The air is full of ordinary carbon-12, but cosmic rays constantly brew a tiny, steady trickle of radioactive carbon-14 high in the atmosphere. Living things — plants, and the animals that eat them — keep swapping carbon with the air, so while they are alive they hold the same small fraction of carbon-14 as everything else. The instant an organism dies, the swapping stops, and its trapped carbon-14 begins to decay away at a perfectly known, clockwork rate (half of it vanishes every 5,730 years).
So archaeologists measure how much carbon-14 is left in a scrap of ancient wood, bone or cloth, compare it with a fresh sample, and read off how long ago the thing was alive — like an hourglass that started running the moment it died. It works precisely because carbon-14 is chemically identical to carbon-12, so a living body can't tell them apart and stores them in the same proportion. One rare isotope, and we can read the age of the pharaohs.
Swap the ordinary hydrogen in a water molecule for its heavier isotope deuterium
(