Every essay — page 23
Exoplanets
Planets nobody has seen, weighed and measured from a dip, a wobble and a delay.
A forecast that fails on a schedule
A transiting planet perturbed near a resonance keeps a clock that wanders, and a straight-line ephemeris fitted to part of the wander predicts the next transit with a confidence the wander does not deserve. The error is not noise and does not average down; it grows on the pair's super-period, it is many times the formal uncertainty within a year, and how soon it appears depends on which stretch of the wander happened to be observed. When a model that includes the known perturber still fails, the failure has a period, and the period is a planet.
A transit late by the width of an orbit
A transiting planet's clock can run fast and slow for a reason that has nothing to do with gravity acting on the planet. If its star is itself in orbit about a distant companion, each transit's light has further or less far to travel, and the timing wanders by the light-travel time across the star's orbit. It is the measurement that first showed light has a speed, made again on a different kind of clock.
One timing curve and five planets that could draw it
A transiting planet whose times wander at a 58-day period, by just over a minute, is being pulled by something — but the period says only how far from some resonance the pull comes, not from which. Perturbers inside and outside the orbit, near four different commensurabilities, each with its own mass, reproduce the same curve to a fraction of a per cent. Timing alone returns a list, and even the detail that shortens it hides a coincidence of its own.
A companion on the same orbit, seen in the planet's clock
A body sharing a planet's orbit at one of its Lagrange points has the planet's period exactly, so no search for periodic dips or wobbles can find it at a period of its own. It shows instead in two ways the planet's own signals carry — a slow swing of the transit times at the companion's libration period, and a fixed offset between the planet's transit and its star's velocity curve.
The observed sky
Coordinates, seasons, phases and shadows — geometry seen from inside it.
On Mars the orbit outweighs the tilt
The equation of time is the sum of two terms, one from the shape of the orbit and one from the tilt of the axis, and on the Earth they are nearly the same size. On Mars the orbit's term is almost four times the tilt's, a sundial runs from fifty-one minutes behind the clock to forty ahead, and the figure-of-eight the Sun traces in the Earth's sky becomes a teardrop. Nothing about the two terms is different; only their ratio is.
A Sun that stops and runs backwards
On Mercury the equation of time is not a correction but a reversal. The planet turns three times for every two orbits, and near perihelion its orbital motion briefly outruns its spin, so the Sun halts, backs up by a degree over eight days and resumes. From one longitude that is three noons in a week; from another, a sunrise, a sunset and a second sunrise — and a slightly rounder orbit would have stopped it happening at all.
The smallest term between a clock and the Sun
A clock and a sundial disagree for three reasons, and the one astronomy supplies — the equation of time, sixteen minutes at most — is usually the smallest of them. Where a place sits inside its time zone can put noon three hours after twelve, and summer time adds a whole hour on top. The equation of time is visible in ordinary life only where the other two happen to vanish.
An hour that stretched with the season
For most of recorded history an hour was a twelfth of the daylight — seventy-six minutes at a Roman midsummer and forty-six in midwinter — and a sundial read it exactly. In that system there was no equation of time, because nothing uniform was being compared with the Sun. The sixteen-minute correction became real only when the hour was made equal, and measurable only when clocks could keep time more steadily than the Sun by more than it.
Spaceflight
Celestial mechanics used forwards — where to burn, and what it costs.
A spin that left the axis it was given
The first American satellite was spun about its long axis, like a rifle bullet, and soon after launch it was tumbling end over end. Nothing outside it had pushed. A body that cannot change its angular momentum but can lose energy has exactly one place to end up, and a long body spun about its length is as far from that place as a spin can be.
A wingnut that turns over on its own
Spin a rigid body about the axis whose moment of inertia is neither the largest nor the smallest and it turns end over end, again and again, with nothing pushing it and nothing lost. The flip was noticed aboard a space station in 1985 and was already implicit in equations written in 1765. How long it waits is a logarithm, and no care in setting up the spin can make the logarithm infinite.
A boom held upright by a difference in gravity
A long spacecraft in orbit is pulled into line with the vertical for nothing — its near end feels slightly more gravity than its far end, and the difference is a torque. The torque restores and never dissipates, so the vehicle swings like a pendulum whose clock is the orbit. Whether it is held at all comes down to three inequalities between its moments of inertia, and one region that satisfies all three is destroyed by the damper every such spacecraft needs.
A tumble stopped by the field it tumbles through
A small satellite leaves its deployer tumbling, and the first thing most of them do is stop, using nothing but a magnetometer and three coils. The law they run needs no idea where the satellite is pointing. What it cannot do, at any instant, is touch the spin about the local field line — so how much tumble survives is decided by how much the field's direction changes along the orbit, and the stillness it reaches is defined by the field rather than by the stars.
Galaxies
Where the unknown stops being a number and becomes a profile — and most of it is not light.
The speed a line width stands in for
A galaxy does not have a rotation speed. It has a rotation curve, rising in the smallest galaxies and peaking early in the largest, and the Tully–Fisher relation is fitted to whichever single number is read off it. Build galaxies with the relation placed in their outer speed and read four other speeds from the same curves, and each gives a shallower or looser relation — which is why the choice of speed is a statement about where the relation lives.
A disc that turns slower than its mass requires
The star-forming discs of ten billion years ago were not the thin, cold, orderly discs of today. Their gas moved randomly at tens of kilometres a second, and that motion is a pressure that holds up part of each disc, so it turns more slowly than its mass alone would require. Read those rotation speeds as if rotation did all the work and the Tully–Fisher relation tilts and scatters as if galaxies had evolved, when what differs is how much of their weight is carried by disorder.
Starlight
Distance, brightness and colour: what can be measured when nothing can be visited.
The pole-on stars a brightness limit prefers
A rapidly rotating star looks brighter and hotter from its pole than from its equator, so a survey that picks stars by how bright they look should pick more of them pole-on. It does — and the surprise is how little. Averaged over random orientations, a gravity-darkened star's apparent luminosity is exactly its true one, because every photon goes somewhere; a brightness limit restores only a fraction of a per cent of bias, while the error in any single star is ten times larger and of either sign.
The circulation that should have stirred every fast rotator
A rotating star in radiative equilibrium cannot be balanced in pressure and in heat at the same time, and the mismatch drives a slow circulation from pole to equator. The classical estimate of its speed says that any star turning at more than a tenth of its break-up rate should be stirred from core to surface within its life, bringing the nitrogen of hydrogen burning up with it. Some fast rotators show that nitrogen and some do not, and some slow rotators show it when they should not — including more than the angle of their axes can explain.
Orbits
Kepler's three laws, and the family of curves a single force allows.
Only two force laws let an orbit come back
That a planet returns to the same point of its own path after one lap is not a fact about orbits. It is a fact about the exponent in the force, and out of the whole continuum of attractions only two — the inverse square, and a spring — bring every bound orbit back to where it started.
The well moves, and the body keeps its share of it
When the Sun becomes a white dwarf it will throw away half its mass, and every planet's orbit will swell by the same factor. Their eccentricities will not change at all — provided the loss is slow, and the only meaning "slow" has here is slow compared with one orbital period.
Starlight
Distance, brightness and colour: what can be measured when nothing can be visited.
A spectrum with no continuum left in it
Below about four thousand kelvin a photosphere stops being a gas of atoms. Titanium oxide, water and carbon monoxide take over, the same equilibrium settles how much of each survives with a bond energy where an ionisation potential used to be — and the bands are so crowded that the level every line depth is measured against is nowhere on the plate.
The continuum is made by one atom in ten thousand
The Sun's light leaves through an ion that exists only because a hydrogen atom will hold a second electron by three-quarters of an electronvolt. The electrons it holds come almost entirely from magnesium, silicon and iron — so the level against which every solar line depth is measured is rationed by elements present at one part in ten thousand.