Astronomy & Celestial Mechanics
the sky, computed
Concept

Mean free path — where it appears

The average distance a photon or particle travels between interactions, equal to the reciprocal of the density times the cross-section. It is what makes a photon's escape from a stellar interior a random walk taking tens of thousands of years across a distance light would cross in two seconds.

Named by 8 essays across 3 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.

Opacity against temperature, and the three things that supply it. The Rosseland mean opacity of a gas of composition X = 0.7, Y = 0.28, Z = 0.02, on logarithmic axes, at 10⁻⁷ g/cm³ and 10⁻⁶ g/cm³. The three faint curves are the separate processes at the first density — electron scattering, the Kramers bound-free and free-free term, and the negative hydrogen ion — and the solid curve is their sum. Every one of them is multiplied by the fraction of hydrogen the Saha equation says is ionised at that temperature and density, or by one minus it for H⁻, which is the only reason the low-temperature end is a picture of a star rather than of a formula outside its range: ungated, Kramers alone gives 10,343 cm²/g at 5,800 K, against the 0.40 drawn here. The peak sits at 15,400 K, where hydrogen is 78% ionised — that bump is not a detail, it is the engine of a Cepheid — and the flat floor at high temperature is electron scattering, which is the one term with no temperature in it at all.

The surface that is a depth

A star has no surface. What looks like one is the level at which the optical depth reaches about two-thirds — and the edge is sharp only because the opacity climbs so steeply that the transition takes a ten-thousandth of the radius.

starlight · Opacity Two means of one opacity, 75 times apart, and only the smaller one is in the equation. Above: a synthetic opacity across the frequencies that carry a star's flux, drawn against x = hν/kT, with a continuum falling as ν⁻³ and a forest of 6 lines per unit x on top of it. The shaded curve is the Rosseland weighting function, ∂B_ν/∂T, which peaks at x = 3.83 and is what decides which frequencies matter. The two horizontal lines are the two ways of averaging. The Planck mean is an ordinary average and lands high, among the lines, because that is where most of the opacity is. The Rosseland mean is a harmonic average — it averages 1/κ rather than κ, because what carries the flux out of a star is transparency and transparencies add — and it lands 75 times lower, close to the continuum, because a harmonic mean is dominated by the smallest values in it. In other words the opacity that appears in the equation of radiative transport is a measurement of the gaps between the lines. Below: what that means for a table. The Planck mean rises as the first power of the line density, slope 0.76 as drawn — every line added is another contribution to an ordinary average. The Rosseland mean does almost nothing at first, slope 0.13, and then turns up sharply, slope 0.99, once the lines are close enough to blanket the windows. That is why adding several million atomic transitions to an opacity table in the early 1990s changed nothing for decades and then changed stellar structure: the new lines were not the first lines, they were the ones that finally closed the gaps.

A mean dominated by the gaps

The opacity in the equation of radiative transport is not an average of the opacity. It is a harmonic average weighted by the temperature derivative of the Planck function, which makes it a measurement of the transparent windows between the lines rather than of the lines — and that single fact decides what adding a million spectral lines to a table does.

starlight · Opacity A quadratic and a linear, crossing at 149 objects. The two rates that decide whether a shell at 900 km is stable, against how many objects are in it. Production goes as N² — every collision needs two objects, so the number of collisions is proportional to the square of the population, and each one is taken here to make 1600 trackable fragments. Removal goes as N, because drag acts on each object independently and takes 1,195 years to do it at this altitude. A quadratic and a linear cross exactly once, at 149 objects in this shell, and above that crossing the population grows with nothing launched. The shell presently holds about 2,280, which is 15 times the crossing. Every number on the production side is uncertain by a factor of a few — the fragment yield most of all, and the cross-section is calibrated against an observed collision rate rather than measured — so the position of the crossing carries that uncertainty with it. The shape does not, and the shape is the argument: a quadratic overtakes a linear once and never comes back, the crossing falls as the altitude rises because the lifetime is in the denominator, and what results is a threshold rather than a trend.

A collision rate that needs no collision

The flux through an orbital shell is a gas-kinetic calculation with no orbits in it. Production goes as the square of the population and removal goes as the first power, so a quadratic overtakes a linear once and never comes back — and which side of that a shell is on is decided by its altitude.

spaceflight · Orbital debris Every shell contributes the same. Concentric shells of equal thickness around an observer, with stars scattered uniformly in volume. The number of stars in a shell grows as its radius squared and the flux from each falls as the radius squared, so the two cancel exactly and every shell delivers the same total light — the drawn counts are 6, 15, 31, 55, 88, in proportion to r³ − r₀³, and the drawn sizes fall as 1/r. That cancellation is the paradox, and it is why no amount of dust helps: dust absorbs the light and then re-radiates it, and in a universe old enough for the sum to converge it would come to the same temperature as the stars. The sum diverges linearly with radius, so something has to stop it — and the only two candidates are that the shells eventually overlap, or that there are no shells beyond a certain distance because there has not been time for their light to arrive.

Why the sky is dark

In an infinite universe of stars every sight line ends on a stellar surface, so the whole sky should be as bright as the Sun's disc. It is not, and the usual answer — that the expansion redshifts the light away — accounts for a factor of six out of a hundred trillion.

cosmology · Olbers's paradox The damping tail measures a thickness: ℓ_D = 1400 for a shell 80 deep in redshift. The suppression of small-scale structure in the microwave background, against multipole, on logarithmic axes. Every other feature of the power spectrum measures the last-scattering surface as a surface — its distance, the sound horizon written on it, the ruler it provides. This one measures how thick it is. Recombination takes time: the ionised fraction falls over a range of redshift rather than all at once, and while it is falling the photons are still scattering, so each one random-walks. A photon taking N steps of a mean free path λ diffuses √N λ, which is much further than a single step and much less than the whole interval, and any temperature fluctuation smaller than that distance is mixed away before it can be frozen in. What is left is a Gaussian cut-off, drawn here for three shell thicknesses. A thicker shell means more steps and a longer walk, so it damps at a smaller multipole: Δz = 40 gives ℓ_D = 1980, Δz = 80 gives ℓ_D = 1400, Δz = 160 gives ℓ_D = 990. The observed cut-off is near ℓ = 1400, corresponding to a diffusion length of about 0.03 proper megaparsecs at the time — a scale the reader should compare with the sound horizon, some hundred and fifty comoving megaparsecs, which is what the peaks measure. The tail is therefore a genuine probe of the inside of the transition rather than of its position, and because the damping depends on the free-electron density it is also one of the cleanest constraints on anything that changes it: extra relativistic species, a varying fine-structure constant, or an early energy injection all move ℓ_D while leaving the peak positions nearly alone. The normalisation here is set once by the observed value, so what the figure asserts is the scaling with thickness and the shape of the cut-off, not the absolute number.

A blur that measures a depth

Every other feature of the microwave background measures the last-scattering surface as a surface — its distance, the ruler written on it, the geometry between. The damping of its small-scale structure measures how thick it is, because a photon random-walking through a finite transition smears away anything smaller than its walk.

cosmology · Microwave background A lumpy universe makes more of both, and one of them was already too much. The deuterium–lithium plane, with the curve a homogeneous universe traces as its baryon density varies and the points a two-zone universe reaches at a fixed mean density of η₁₀ = 6.13. The dense zone occupies 15 per cent of the volume, and the contrast between the zones runs from 1 — which is the homogeneous case — to 100. Every mixture lies up and to the right of its own homogeneous point, and that is not a modelling choice: an abundance is measured per baryon, so what a telescope averages is η times the abundance — and for both deuterium and lithium that product is a convex function of the density, whose average therefore exceeds its value at the average. The excess is large. At a contrast of 100 the mixture gives D/H = 1.13e-4 against 2.51e-5 smooth, and ⁷Li/H = 1.77e-8 against 4.70e-10, a factor of 37.7. The extra deuterium is exactly what the proposal was for: it lets the mean baryon density be raised while the observed D/H is still matched, which in the 1980s was the one way to make the baryons account for all the matter that dynamics required. The extra lithium is what it costs. The measured abundance was already a factor of 2.9 below the homogeneous prediction, and every step toward the lumpy universe that fixes the density makes that discrepancy worse — which is why the answer to "the baryons are lumpy" turned out to be that the extra matter is not baryons.

The universe that was lumpy at one second

If the baryons were unevenly spread when the network fired, each region ran its own nucleosynthesis and what is observed is an average. For a decade that was the one way to make ordinary matter account for all the matter — and the reason it fails is a theorem about convex curves.

cosmology · Nucleosynthesis The sky's darkness, measured as an opacity. Optical depth to electron–positron pair production against gamma-ray energy, for sources at redshifts 0.03, 0.1, 0.3, 1, both axes logarithmic. A gamma ray of energy E is absorbed most readily by background photons near twice the square of the electron rest energy divided by E: at 1 TeV that is 2.37 µm and at 100 GeV it is 0.24 µm, so the energy axis is a wavelength axis for the background light, running backwards — and the background it is evaluated against is the same two-component spectrum the star formation history produced, not a flat number. Above the marked τ = 1 the universe is opaque. The depth is computed in the delta-function approximation, the cross-section replaced by 0.2 of the Thomson value over a bandwidth of order the energy, with the background's comoving density evolving as (1+z)^1.2. That is a factor-of-two calculation and the shape is what it gets right: the horizon closes from z = 0.59 at 100 GeV to z = 0.16 at 1 TeV. The measurement runs the other way. A blazar's spectrum is observed, the absorbed part is the difference between it and the spectrum the source is believed to have emitted, and that difference gives the background — in the near infrared, where no direct measurement can subtract the zodiacal light well enough to compete.

A background weighed by what it stops

The faintest light in the universe cannot be photographed from inside the Solar System, because the zodiacal foreground is a hundred times brighter. It can be weighed instead, by the bite it takes out of a blazar at a trillion electronvolts.

cosmology · Olbers's paradox Three messengers, and the three walls they end on. The redshift of the last opaque surface, for the three things that cross the universe, on one logarithmic axis spanning thirty-one decades. Olbers' argument compares how far a sight line runs before it ends on something against how far anything has had time to come — and for starlight the first is 1.7·10¹⁸ Mpc against a horizon of 1.4·10⁴ Mpc, which is why the optical sky is dark. That comparison is not what decides the other two. A relic neutrino's mean free path against ordinary matter works out at 7.7·10³⁷ Mpc — 4·10¹⁹ times starlight's, so on the mean-free-path argument alone the neutrino sky should be darker still. It is not, because the quantity that terminates a sight line is the WALL, and the walls are at z = 1,090, z ≈ 6×10⁹ and nowhere at all. Every neutrino sight line ends on a surface from one second after the beginning; every gravitational-wave sight line runs to the beginning, or to a binary. Both of those skies are saturated — which is what Olbers' argument predicted, and what the optical sky refuses to do. The three are also wildly unequal in brightness: the microwave sky is 996 nW m⁻² sr⁻¹, and the gravitational-wave background at Ω = 10⁻⁹ is 0.018 — a saturated sky five decades fainter than a dark one.

Two skies where the paradox comes out right

Olbers argued that every sight line should end on a source and the sky should blaze. In neutrinos and in gravitational waves it does — the walls are at one second and at no time at all — and both of those skies have now been detected.

cosmology · Olbers's paradox

Named alongside it

The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.

Optical depthCosmological dimmingCritical densityDiffusion lengthExtragalactic background lightOlbers's paradoxOpacityParticle horizonRosseland meanSurface brightnessThomson scatteringBallistic coefficient

All concepts