The ism-phases generator
Thermal equilibrium for interstellar gas, drawn as pressure against density with both axes logarithmic. Every point on the curve is a temperature between 40 and 9000 K at which cooling exactly balances the 2·10⁻²⁶ erg per second per hydrogen nucleus that grain photoelectrons deliver. The curve is not monotonic: it rises to 5007 K cm⁻³, falls to 1597, and rises again, so a horizontal line anywhere between those two crosses it three times. At the 3000 K cm⁻³ of the local medium the three crossings are a warm phase at 0.47 cm⁻³ and 6354 K, a cold phase at 57 cm⁻³ and 52 K, and one in between drawn dashed because it cannot survive — a parcel there that is squeezed cools and keeps contracting, and one that expands heats and keeps expanding. The two survivors differ by a factor of 121 in density and by exactly the same factor in temperature — necessarily the same, because their product is the pressure both are held at — and yet they press on one another equally, which is why they can share the same volume of the disc indefinitely rather than mixing.
6 essays call
ism-phases. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member
of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.
Where it is called
Every figure listed here is the same construction drawn at different numbers, so a correction to one is a correction to all of them.
Two temperatures, and nothing in between
The gas between the stars is not one gas at one temperature. Thermal balance has three solutions at any ordinary interstellar pressure, the middle one cannot survive being nudged, and the two that can differ by a factor of over a hundred in both density and temperature — which is why a map of the interstellar medium looks like clouds rather than like fog.
A disc held open by what cannot be photographed
Solve hydrostatic equilibrium for the galaxy's gas layer using its temperature and the disc's gravity, and the answer is a layer several times thinner than the one that is there. What is missing from the calculation is turbulence, a magnetic field and a population of cosmic rays — three pressures of comparable size, two of which emit nothing.
One velocity and two distances
Inside the Sun's orbit a line of sight crosses each galactocentric radius twice, and the two crossings have identical radial velocities. So a cloud's velocity gives two candidate distances, near and far, differing by a factor — and nothing about the velocity says which, though the choice decides whether the object is ordinary or extraordinary.
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.
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.
A molecule that forms too slowly to wait for
The atomic hydrogen in a galaxy's disc turns molecular wherever a cloud is thick enough to shield itself from starlight, and stars form where it does. That is an equilibrium statement, and equilibrium takes time. Molecular hydrogen forms on dust grains, so in gas with a tenth of the Sun's metals it forms ten times more slowly — slowly enough that a cloud can finish collapsing before most of its hydrogen has become molecular, and form its stars from atoms.