Nullius In Verba

"Nullius in Verba," as Mary Jo Murphy recently reported in the New York Times, is the motto of the Royal Society, the venerable British scientific fraternity that celebrates its 350th anniversary this year. According to Murphy, the Latin translates to "take nobody's word for it," a philosophy that Simon has definitely embraced of late.

Take this book (please!): Mini Weapons of Mass Destruction. When Andrew and Simon first brought it home from Elliott Bay Books, I thought it was some kind of Dangerous Book for Boys parody. But no, it really does contain detailed instructions for building an impressive array of inexpensive and not-terribly-accurate pea shooters, bic pen crossbows, spoon-based catapults, rubber band handguns, and toilet-paper tube penny launchers. Combustion Shooters have a chapter to themselves, as do Minibombs (don't ask).

The author has included a somewhat perfunctory note at the beginning about safety, in which the he reminds readers to wear eye protection when working with projectiles, and professes that the book is "for entertainment purposes only." What's that supposed to mean, Mr. Austin? Are we just supposed to enjoy reading about this stuff as a sort of intellectual exercise?

Fat chance: Simon has personally committed to assessing the functionality of each and every one of these contraptions... which is how he acquired some very useful knowledge about the placement of paper targets intended for use with pennies moving at a high rate of speed, along with half of a window-pane-replacement bill.

In addition to law-suit-destined publications like Mr. Austin's, Simon has discovered another source of testable engineering hypotheses: YouTube. OMG, it's amazing! Just type in "How to..." followed by whatever zany idea you think might be possible -- water bike, Tech Deck half pipe, hover shoes, HD speaker under a buck, vinegar volcano, grapefruit battery, water gun alarm clock -- and you'll find that somebody somewhere has put together a step-by-step instruction video, complete with shopping list.

Be warned: you may find yourself in an escalating feedback loop of dead-pan spoofs, wicked rejoinders, and goofy counter-spoofs... Which is how Simon acquired some very useful knowledge about reading the comments on suspiciously magical "how to" videos before proceeding. It turns out "nullius in verba" doesn't necessarily mean you have to try everything; some theories can be debunked pretty effectively through thought experiment alone. (For instance, Simon found it easy -- and hilarious -- to envision the pros and cons of the White Knight's method for getting over a gate, described to Alice in Through the Looking Glass: "The only difficulty is with the feet: the head is high enough already. Now first I put my head on the top of the gate -- then the head's high enough -- then I stand on my head -- then the feet are high enough, you see -- then I'm over, you see.")

Satire and silliness aside, YouTube videos have proved to be a terrific source of information and inspiration for our budding inventor. After watching a straightforward Science Squad video about building a balloon-powered car, Simon discovered this Calder-esque creation:



Using ideas from both videos, materials & knowledge garnered through prior nullius-in-verba experimentation, and a little help from his KP-avoiding mom, he was able to create this:




Go, Simon!

Of course, strict adherence to the Royal Society's motto can lead to painful discoveries as well. One morning during the recent cold snap, we were rushing out the door to school, realizing with a sigh that we hadn't budgeted enough time to scrape the ice off the windshield, and Simon wanted to know if your tongue really does stick to cold metal if you lick it. "Yes it does," we shuddered, remembering a gruesome experience with a swing chain on a Boston playground in the early '70s. "Really?" he said, looking skeptical. "Really," we repeated, with some emphasis. "Don't try it." Then we turned around to lock the front door. And turned back around to find Simon bent over with his tongue frozen to the iron handrail on the stairs. Before we could go back in for a glass of warm water (a remedy we had heard of, but whose efficacy we had never had the opportunity to verify) he had managed to wrench himself free.

Yes, son, a lot of the world's accepted wisdom is wrong -- but some of the things people tell you all the time really are true. If you're going to be the guy who finds out which is which -- and I'm proud to say you are -- then once in a while you're going to find yourself riding to school in the backseat of the car with your mouth full of blood.