The collection

Every essay — page 36

One idea per essay, ordered so that the earlier ones set up the later ones — but nothing here depends on being read in sequence. Essays 701–720 of 909.

Gravitation

Two bodies pulling on each other, and everything that goes wrong at three.

Torques that add because the orbits hold still

Near a massive black hole every star's orbit is almost a fixed ellipse, repeated thousands of times before it precesses. The torques the other stars exert on it therefore point the same way orbit after orbit, and they add in proportion to time instead of cancelling in a random walk — so angular momentum near the hole relaxes hundreds of times faster than ordinary encounters allow, and orbital planes faster still.

5 figures · Two-body relaxation

Orbits

Kepler's three laws, and the family of curves a single force allows.

A distant planet felt only as a stretch

An undiscovered planet far beyond Neptune pulls the Sun and Saturn almost equally, and an ephemeris, which measures only where Saturn is relative to the Sun, cannot see a pull that moves both together. What it can see is the difference — a tidal stretch falling as the mass over the cube of the distance — and most even of that is absorbed by refitting Saturn's orbit. What is left decides which planets the solar system can be hiding.

5 figures · Ephemerides $The Moon pushed towards the Sun, once a month. The change in the Earth–Moon distance, in millimetres, if the Earth's gravitational self-energy fell towards the Sun differently from the rest of its mass by a fraction η = 0.001 — the term that would be present at the synodic period, the cycle of lunar phases, in an integration of the Moon's orbit in the Sun's full field. The amplitude is 11.4 mm, which is 11.4 metres times η: the Moon's orbit would be stretched towards the Sun at new moon and squeezed at full, or the reverse, depending on the sign. The shaded band is ±2 mm, roughly the precision of a modern lunar laser ranging normal point. A violation a thousandth of the size of the effect it tests would be twice that precision.$

A Moon that would lean towards the Sun

Part of the Earth's mass is its own gravitational binding energy — a few parts in ten billion. If that part fell towards the Sun even slightly differently from the rest, the Earth and the Moon would fall at different rates and the Moon's orbit would be pushed sunward once a month by about eleven metres for every unit of the difference. Fifty years of laser ranging to the Moon have looked for that push at the millimetre level, against a term the Sun's ordinary gravity puts at the same frequency a hundred kilometres high.

5 figures · Ephemerides

The observed sky

Coordinates, seasons, phases and shadows — geometry seen from inside it.

A storm's depression at the equator, as an energy. The depression of the horizontal magnetic field at the Earth's surface against the total kinetic energy of the particles trapped in the ring current, on logarithmic axes. The Dessler–Parker–Sckopke theorem makes the two proportional — ΔB/B₀ = −⅔ E/Eₘ, with Eₘ = 8.4·10¹⁷ joules the energy of the Earth's dipole field above the surface — whatever the particles' energies, pitch angles or distribution in radius. The marked storms are read off the line: a moderate storm of 50 nT is 2·10¹⁵ J of trapped particles, an intense one of 100 nT 4·10¹⁵ J, the storm of March 1989 at 589 nT 2.4·10¹⁶ J, and the lowest estimate for the Carrington storm of 1859 3.4·10¹⁶ J — a few hours of the solar wind's power flowing past the magnetosphere.

A storm weighed by a compass needle

During a geomagnetic storm the horizontal field at the equator drops by tens or hundreds of nanotesla, and a theorem says the drop is proportional to the total energy of the particles trapped around the Earth — whatever their energies, their pitch angles or their distances. A ground magnetometer therefore weighs a population tens of thousands of kilometres up, in joules, and the shape of the record says what that population is made of.

5 figures · Magnetosphere

Ions picked up from Mars and swept off on loops. The paths of a hydrogen and an oxygen ion created at rest just above the dayside of Mars and picked up by the solar wind, flowing left to right at 420 km/s through an interplanetary field of 3 nT perpendicular to the page. In the planet's frame each moves on a cycloid: it is accelerated by the wind's electric field, turns in the magnetic field, comes momentarily to rest and repeats, drifting downstream at the wind's speed and reaching twice it at the top of each loop — four times the wind's energy per unit mass. The loop height is twice the gyroradius: 2923 km for hydrogen, 46774 km for oxygen, against a planetary radius of 3390 km. The oxygen is thrown clear of the planet in a single plume to one side, which is how a planet without a magnetic field loses its heavy atmosphere to the wind.

A planet that borrows the wind's field

Venus and Mars have no magnetic field of their own, yet the solar wind does not reach their atmospheres. It is stopped by their ionospheres, whose thermal pressure balances the wind's at an altitude that moves logarithmically with every gust, and the interplanetary field piles up and drapes around the obstacle to make a magnetosphere on loan. The arrangement holds only while the ionosphere out-pushes the wind, and it leaks heavy ions on loops wider than the planet.

5 figures · Magnetosphere

Spaceflight

Celestial mechanics used forwards — where to burn, and what it costs.

What a departure loses to taking time. The gravity loss of a departure burn — the velocity a rocket spends beyond what an instantaneous impulse would need — against its initial thrust-to-weight ratio, on logarithmic axes, for departures from a 300-km orbit to hyperbolic excess speeds of 0.5, 3, 6 km/s, an exhaust speed of 4.41 km/s and thrust held along the velocity. The impulsive costs are 3.21, 3.60, 4.74 km/s. At a thrust-to-weight of 1.2 the losses are 4, 5, 11 m/s; at 0.1, 298, 396, 708; at 0.03, 1485, 1785, 2546. For a stage of high thrust the loss falls as about the inverse square of the thrust (slope -1.98 at the high end), because the burn arc shrinks in proportion and the loss grows as the square of the arc.

A burn that cannot happen at one point

Every transfer cost in orbital mechanics is computed as though the engine fired for an instant. A real departure burn runs for minutes or hours, and the vehicle travels a long arc while it does — climbing, slowing, and delivering thrust ever further from the point where it would have done the most good. The extra velocity that costs is the gravity loss, and it grows as the square of the arc: negligible for a strong stage, ruinous for a weak one, and recoverable by splitting the burn at the price of time.

5 figures · Orbital transfer $The atmosphere's delay, by how high the spacecraft stands. The one-way delay of a radio signal through the troposphere, in metres of range, against the elevation of the line of sight, for an atmosphere whose refractivity falls exponentially with a hydrostatic scale height of 8 km and a wet one of 2 km. At the zenith it is 2.42 m. Integrated along a straight ray through a curved atmosphere (solid), it is 5.0 m at 30°, 13.4 m at 10° and 24.6 m at 5°. The flat-atmosphere rule, zenith delay over the sine of the elevation (dashed), agrees above about twenty degrees and then runs away, giving 46.2 m at 3° where the curved atmosphere gives 35.9: a ray at a low angle leaves the atmosphere through the top of a shell, not through the side of a slab. Ray bending, ignored here, adds centimetres below about five degrees.$

Two metres overhead and thirty at the horizon

A radio signal crossing the lower atmosphere is delayed by about two and a half metres of range straight up and by more than ten times that near the horizon. Tracking a spacecraft means converting the first number into the second, and the conversion — the mapping function — is where almost all of the troposphere's error lives: under a millimetre above thirty degrees, centimetres to decimetres in the last ten. And the last ten degrees are exactly the observations the geometry cannot do without.

5 figures · Radiometric navigation

Starlight

Distance, brightness and colour: what can be measured when nothing can be visited.

$An absorption line made by scattering alone. Emergent line profiles, as a fraction of the continuum, against distance from line centre in Doppler widths, for a strong line — 10⁵ times the continuum opacity at its centre — in an atmosphere at one temperature throughout, for destruction probabilities ε = 0.01, 10⁻⁴, 10⁻⁶. In local thermodynamic equilibrium this atmosphere makes no line at all: every depth radiates at the same temperature, and the line's extra opacity merely moves the depth from which the light comes. With scattering the line is deep, its central intensity 0.198, 0.021, 0.002 of the continuum, about twice √ε. The darkness is not a low temperature anywhere; it is photons scattered out of the line and back into the gas until they are destroyed or escape through the continuum, never reaching the observer at the line's frequency.$

A line darker than any temperature in the gas

An absorption line is usually read as a temperature: the line is dark because its light comes from higher, cooler gas. A strong resonance line breaks that reading. Its photons are scattered thousands of times before a collision can destroy them, so near the surface the line's source function falls to the square root of the destruction probability times the Planck function — and even a gas at one temperature throughout shows a line almost black at its centre.

5 figures · Spectra

A width that knows how bright the star is

In the dark trough of a cool star's calcium K line sits a small bright emission core made in its chromosphere. In 1957 Olin Wilson and Vainu Bappu found that the core's width predicts the star's absolute magnitude over fifteen magnitudes — from dwarfs to supergiants, whatever the star's temperature and however active its chromosphere — and the simplest physical account of why reproduces the relation's existence and misses its slope by half.

5 figures · Spectra

Stars

The diagram that sorted them, and the one quantity that decides a star's whole life.

$Where relativity overtakes the margin: 306 Schwarzschild radii for 10⁵ solar masses. Two things against the size of a contracting star, measured in its own Schwarzschild radius, on logarithmic axes. The flat lines are the margin by which the star's pressure-weighted adiabatic exponent exceeds 4/3 — the Newtonian condition for stability — for stars of 1000, 10⁴, 10⁵, 10⁶, 10⁷, 10⁸ solar masses with mean molecular weight 0.61; it does not change as the star shrinks, because it is fixed by the gas fraction of the pressure, and it falls with mass from 0.036 to 1.2·10⁻⁴. The diagonal is what general relativity adds to the requirement, 1.1245 × 2GM/(Rc²), which in these units is the same line for every mass. Contraction moves each star leftward along its flat line, and where the line meets the diagonal the star becomes dynamically unstable: at 31, 97, 306, 966, 3,052, 9,649 Schwarzschild radii respectively. Every one of those crossings lies between 31 and 9,649 Schwarzschild radii out, where the star is not remotely compact — the relativistic correction is tiny, and it decides the matter only because the margin it is compared with is tinier.$

A star tipped over at a thousand times its horizon

A star of a million suns is held up almost entirely by its own light, which leaves it stable by about a thousandth. General relativity raises the bar by an amount that is tiny until the star is compact, and a thousandth is tiny too — so the star collapses at nearly a thousand times the radius of the black hole it becomes, at a mean density below that of air, and with no fuel yet burning.

5 figures · Polytropes

The centre goes soft at 19 solar masses; the whole core only at 27. Two criteria for the pair instability, against the mass of the oxygen core, each the deepest value reached as the core contracts through the pair-producing range. The orange curve is local: the lowest Γ₁ − 4/3 at the core's centre. It goes negative at 19.1 solar masses — the centre of every such core passes through gas that, taken by itself, cannot hold itself up. The blue curve is the criterion that actually decides the matter, the pressure-weighted mean over the whole core, and it stays positive until 27.5 solar masses of oxygen. In the shaded band between the two the centre goes soft and the core does not go unstable, because the stiffer gas around the centre outvotes it. The threshold is computed for a core built as an n = 3 polytrope with the pairs ignored in its structure; detailed evolutionary models find the first pair-instability pulses in stars whose helium cores exceed roughly thirty solar masses, so the construction lands in the right neighbourhood rather than on a precise number.

A soft centre the rest of the core outvotes

Above a billion kelvin, light in a star's core starts turning into electron–positron pairs, and gas that spends its heat on making mass cannot push back hard enough to hold itself up. But stability belongs to the whole core, not to its centre. An oxygen core goes soft in the middle from about nineteen solar masses and holds; it gives way only near twenty-eight, when the soft gas carries two-thirds of the pressure-weighted volume.

5 figures · Polytropes

Galaxies

Where the unknown stops being a number and becomes a profile — and most of it is not light.

$One sight line, two spectra: emission peaks at 46 K while the absorption reaches τ = 1.10. The 21-centimetre line along one sight line through a cold cloud (5·10²⁰ atoms cm⁻² at 60 K) embedded in warm gas (3·10²⁰ cm⁻² at 6000 K, half in front and half behind), computed by radiative transfer. Above: the emission spectrum, brightness temperature against velocity — a broad pedestal from the warm gas (dashed, alone) with the cold cloud's narrow peak on top, capped at 46 K because the cloud is nearly opaque at line centre. Below: the same gas seen in absorption against a bright radio source behind it, the fraction of the source's light transmitted. The absorption shows the cold cloud and almost nothing of the warm gas, whose optical depth is a hundred times smaller per atom. Read in the optically thin approximation, the emission gives a column of 6.26·10²⁰ cm⁻² against a true 8·10²⁰.$

A temperature that belongs to none of the gas

The hydrogen between the stars announces itself at 21 centimetres twice — in emission, which counts atoms whatever their temperature, and in absorption against a radio source behind, which counts atoms divided by their temperature. The ratio of the two is a temperature. Along any real sight line it is the harmonic mean of a cold phase and a warm one, a number no parcel of the gas actually has — and where the cold gas is thick enough, the emission stops counting it at all.

5 figures · Interstellar medium

Atomic gas that stops growing: a cloud holds at most 10, 35, 104 M☉ pc⁻² of HI. The surface density of atomic hydrogen in a slab lit on both faces, against the slab's total gas surface density, both logarithmic, for metallicities of solar, 0.3 solar, 0.1 solar. A thin slab is atomic throughout and sits on the one-to-one line (grey). A thick one shields its interior and turns it molecular, so every gram added beyond the transition is a gram of H₂ and the atomic column stops at 10.1 M☉ pc⁻² for solar, 34.7 M☉ pc⁻² for 0.3 solar, 103.7 M☉ pc⁻² for 0.1 solar. The saturation is the same thing the 21-centimetre maps of nearby galaxies show: atomic gas surface densities that rarely exceed about ten solar masses per square parsec in metal-rich discs, however much gas there is, and that climb in metal-poor dwarfs.

An atomic ceiling set by the dust

Pile more gas into a galaxy's disc and the atomic hydrogen stops growing at about ten solar masses per square parsec; everything beyond that is molecular. The ceiling is the column a cloud needs to shield its interior from ultraviolet light, and because dust both makes the molecules and does the final shielding, it scales as the inverse of the metallicity — and hardly at all with the starlight, since the cold gas thickens in step with the field that would break it apart.

5 figures · Interstellar medium

Gravitation

Two bodies pulling on each other, and everything that goes wrong at three.

A floor under the unseen companion

A star that swings back and forth in velocity with nothing visible beside it is orbiting something. One velocity curve gives one number about the something — the mass function — and that number is not an estimate of its mass but a floor under it, reached only if the visible star weighed nothing and the orbit were seen exactly edge-on. When the floor stands higher than any neutron star can, the companion is a black hole, whatever the inclination turns out to be.

5 figures · The two-body problem

A black hole weighed by a wobble on the sky

A velocity curve weighs an unseen companion only up to the tilt of its orbit. The same orbit followed on the sky, as a loop a few thousandths of an arcsecond across riding on a star's parallax, shows the tilt as the shape of the ellipse — and with the parallax turning the angle into astronomical units, Kepler's third law gives the companion's mass outright. That is how the nearest black holes were found: silent, unfed, and on orbits no X-ray survey could have reached.

5 figures · The two-body problem

Orbits

Kepler's three laws, and the family of curves a single force allows.

The kick speeds read back out of the periods: median 100 m/s against the 100 m/s put in. The distribution of kick speeds recovered from the fragments' periods alone, by p(v) = −2v g′(v) applied to the along-track kicks, for 300 and 3000 fragments (points), against the log-normal distribution actually used, median 100 m/s and width 0.3 dex (line), on a logarithmic speed axis with the density per logarithmic interval. With 3000 fragments the recovery follows the shape of the truth and puts the median at 100 m/s, though differentiating a measured distribution twice smooths its peak and roughens its tails; with 300 it is noisy but already in the right place. The inversion uses one assumption, that the kicks were isotropic, and one measurement per fragment, its period — the quantity tracking networks determine first and best.

A kick speed read off the slope of a histogram

Throw fragments at one speed in random directions and the component of each kick along the orbit is spread evenly between plus and minus that speed — Archimedes' theorem about the area of a sphere, applied to debris. Each fragment's period records that component, so the histogram of periods is a stack of flat bands, one per speed, and its slope gives the speeds back: a break-up weighed by its own violence from a catalogue of orbits, if the event was isotropic, and fragment by fragment if it was not.

5 figures · Vis-viva

Two clouds with the same kicks: the explosion's centre at −2.3 m/s, the collision's at 10.9. The along-track kicks read from the periods of 1500 fragments, for an explosion (blue) and for a collision (orange) whose fragments received the same random kicks plus a shared velocity change of 12 m/s along the track — the centre-of-mass motion a projectile's momentum leaves behind. The two histograms have the same width and shape; the collision's is displaced. The number-weighted mean of the explosion's kicks is −2.3 ± 2.6 m/s, consistent with zero, and the collision's 10.9 ± 2.5 m/s. The width of a cloud says how violent the event was; its centre says whether anything arrived from outside.

A collision moves the cloud's centre, and an explosion cannot

However violently a satellite blows itself apart, its fragments' momenta add up to the parent's: the centre of the cloud keeps moving exactly as the satellite did. A collision is different, because the projectile brings momentum in, and a collision energetic enough to shatter its target needs a projectile heavy enough to move the centre by at least 80,000 joules per kilogram divided by the impact speed — eight metres a second in low orbit. The width of a debris cloud measures how violent the event was. Its centre measures whether anything arrived from outside.

5 figures · Vis-viva

Cosmology

One object, seen once, from inside — and every number in it the output of a model.

40 galaxies detected, and a map of all of them: the summed light traces the structure the catalogue misses. A 160 by 160 Mpc/h slice of a simulated universe at redshift 6, its galaxies clustered on a density field and given luminosities from a Schechter function with a faint-end slope of -1.5. Left: the 40 galaxies bright enough to detect individually, above 1.5 times the characteristic luminosity. Right: the same slice as a map of summed line intensity in 32 by 32 cells, shaded linearly between the 5th and 97th percentiles of the cells, with no galaxy detected at all. The catalogue is a sparse scatter in which the structure is barely visible; the map shows it, and its cells correlate with the underlying density at 0.65. The map's light comes overwhelmingly from galaxies below the detection limit.

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.

5 figures · Olbers's paradox

[C II] power is round in the plane of k; CO(4–3) mapped at the wrong distance is elongated 5.1 times along k∥. Contours of the clustering power spectrum in the plane of wavenumber across the sky, k⊥, and along the line of sight, k∥, in h/Mpc, at 10², 10²·⁵, 10³, 10³·⁵ (Mpc/h)³ in arbitrary units, for the target line, [C II] from redshift 6.60 (black), and for the CO(4–3) interloper from redshift 0.84 placed at the target's distance (colour). The target's contours are quarter-circles, because its structure has no preferred direction. The interloper's are ellipses, drawn in towards the k∥ axis and elongated along it by the ratio of the two rescalings, α∥/α⊥ = 5.1: a structure that is round where it really is looks magnified across the sky and flattened along the line of sight where the map puts it. That difference of shape, not of amplitude, is what separates the two in a map where both have been summed.

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.

5 figures · Olbers's paradox

The observed sky

Coordinates, seasons, phases and shadows — geometry seen from inside it.

Three planes on one sky: the Milky Way crosses the celestial equator at 62.87° and its pole sits at declination 27.13°. The whole sky in equatorial coordinates — right ascension decreasing to the right, declination up — with the celestial equator (grey), the ecliptic (orange) and the galactic equator, b = 0 (blue), each a great circle drawn by rotating its own frame into the equatorial one. The north galactic pole lies at right ascension 192.86° and declination 27.13°, so the galactic plane is inclined at 62.87° to the celestial equator; the zero of galactic longitude, towards the centre, lies at 266.40°, -28.94° in Sagittarius. All three are conventions tied to physical planes — the Earth's equator, its orbit, the Galaxy's disc — and only the first two are defined by measurements that can be repeated to the precision of the coordinates themselves.

A frame fixed before its centre was found

Galactic longitude and latitude look like the Galaxy's own coordinates, and they are a convention agreed in 1958: a pole taken from the radio map of neutral hydrogen, a zero of longitude put on a radio source then catalogued in Sagittarius, an equator drawn through the Sun. The black hole at the centre was found afterwards, three arcminutes away, and nobody moved the origin. The Sun sits twenty parsecs above the disc, so latitude zero is not the Galaxy's plane except far away — and over eighty million years the Sun will swing a hundred parsecs either side of it.

5 figures · Celestial sphere

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