Power spectrum — where it appears
Named by 11 essays across 4 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The interior read from a comb of frequencies
A star's surface moves by about twenty centimetres a second, in thousands of overlapping sound modes at once. Two numbers off that spectrum give a mass and a radius with almost no stellar model in the chain, and a third gives an age.
Homogeneous above a hundred megaparsecs
Every cosmological calculation in this field assumes the universe is the same everywhere. Looked at on any scale a person can picture, it plainly is not — it is stars in galaxies in groups in clusters in filaments around voids. The assumption is not a claim about appearance; it is a claim about a statistic, and the statistic has a scale attached.
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.
A spectrum that counts what no single gap can
One gap in a stellar stream measures a subhalo's mass multiplied by an unknown time. A stream crossed by dozens of them measures something better — how many subhaloes of each size there are — but only as a statistic of the whole stream's density, where no feature can be pointed to and one stream is one throw of the dice.
Velocities that see past the edge of the map
A redshift survey infers the motions of galaxies from the distortions of its own map. A peculiar-velocity survey measures them directly, one galaxy at a time, by subtracting a distance from a redshift — and every one of those measurements is dominated by its own error beyond a few tens of megaparsecs. What makes the survey worth doing is that a velocity answers for structure far larger than the volume it is measured in.
An ice sheet that skips a beat of the tilt
The last eight hundred thousand years of ice ages come roughly every hundred thousand years, and the Earth's orbit has no forcing of any strength at that period. A model in which an ice sheet collapses only when it is both large and warmed by a high-obliquity summer reproduces the rhythm with nothing but the forty-one-thousand-year tilt — the ice sheet grows through one or two maxima and falls on the next — and a slow rise in how large the ice must grow turns the older forty-one-thousand-year world into the newer one without any change in the orbit.
A map of galaxies none of which was seen
A survey that lists galaxies one by one stops at the faintest it can detect, and at high redshift most of the light comes from galaxies fainter than that. Map one spectral line in summed intensity instead, pixel by pixel and frequency by frequency, and every galaxy contributes whether it is detected or not. The fluctuations of that map have two parts — clustering, which weighs the total light, and graininess, which weighs how unevenly it is shared — so one power spectrum measures two moments of a luminosity function nobody has counted.
A line from the wrong redshift lands at the wrong distance
A map of ionised carbon from redshift six is built by assuming every photon at a given frequency came from that line. Carbon monoxide from galaxies at redshift one sends photons to the same frequency, and the map places them five billion light-years too far away. Their structure arrives magnified across the sky and squashed along the line of sight — round where it really is, flattened in the map — and that distortion of shape, which no amount of brightness can hide, is how the impostor is found.
A wave pulled ahead by particles that outran it
The neutrinos of the early universe moved at the speed of light while the sound wave that became the acoustic feature moved at little more than half of it, and their gravity dragged the wave forward. The drag survives as a phase in the galaxy power spectrum, a shift that no change in the ruler's length can copy, so galaxy surveys can count the species that streamed freely without asking the microwave background.
A hole too deep for the sky to have made
If the Milky Way sat inside a vast underdense region, everything around it would be expanding faster than the universe as a whole, and the locally measured Hubble constant would come out high — which is what Cepheids and supernovae find. The idea needs no new physics. It needs a void about half empty across the six hundred megaparsecs the supernovae sample, and the same cosmology that predicts the microwave background prices such a void at dozens of standard deviations.
A clump that waits for the radiation to thin
Dark matter feels no pressure from light, so nothing should have stopped it clumping in the radiation era. Almost nothing did stop it, and yet a clump inside the horizon at that time barely grows. The radiation does not push on it. It only makes the universe expand too fast for the clump's own gravity to keep up — and the length of that wait is the bend in the spectrum of every structure in the sky.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Cosmic varianceGalaxy biasShot noiseCold dark matterGrowth rateLine-intensity mappingPeculiar velocityReionisationSound horizonAlcock paczynski testAnisotropic stressAsteroseismology