Theme

Scales that defeat intuition

Distances, times and densities so far outside experience that the only reliable instrument is arithmetic.

Every orbit one force allows. Circle, ellipse, parabola and hyperbola, all sharing a focus and a closest approach. The eccentricity alone decides which one a body is on, and whether it returns.

Every orbit one force allows, and the number that picks between them

Circle, ellipse, parabola, hyperbola. A single inverse-square force permits exactly these four, and one number decides which — including whether the body ever comes back.

The energy budget of an orbit at e = 0.7. Kinetic, potential and total energy per unit mass against distance from the primary, in units where GM = 1. The total is a horizontal line — it depends only on the semi-major axis — and the vis-viva relation is that statement solved for the speed.

Orbits

One equation for the speed anywhere, and the eccentricity is not in it

The vis-viva relation gives the speed at any point of any orbit from two numbers. What it leaves out is the surprise — the shape of the orbit does not appear at all.

Orbits

The formula that exists, and is not used

Kepler's equation does have a closed-form solution — an infinite series in the eccentricity, written down by Lagrange. It converges up to e = 0.6627434 and not one part beyond, and that number has nothing to do with astronomy.

Three rotations, applied in order. An orbit of eccentricity 0.45 carried into space by the three orientation angles, one panel per rotation: the argument of periapsis ω = 40°, then the inclination i = 42°, then the longitude of the ascending node Ω = 55°. The last panel applies the same three angles in the reverse order and arrives somewhere else, because rotations about different axes do not commute.

Orbits

Three rotations that put an orbit in space, and they do not commute

An orbit's orientation takes three angles. Give the same three angles in a different order and the orbit ends up somewhere else — which is why the convention is part of the data.

$A clock that is a straight line for three billion years and then is not. The lunar chronology function: craters of a kilometre or more per square kilometre against the age of the surface, with the count logarithmic and time not. The dashed line is the present impact rate extrapolated backwards, and it accounts for the whole curve up to 3.1 billion years — over that entire range, dating a surface is dividing a crater count by a constant. The rate itself, read off the slope of the drawn curve at the present day, is 8.4·10⁻⁴ craters per square kilometre per billion years, which over the whole Moon is about 32 new craters of a kilometre or more per million years. Past three and a half billion years the exponential term takes over and the curve turns almost vertical: ground that is 4.1 billion years old carries 26 times the crater density of ground 3.5 billion years old, for a difference in age of six hundred million years. Most of the craters on the Moon were made in a small fraction of its life, and nothing that happened after them is recorded anything like as densely. The six marked ages are laboratory measurements on returned rock, and they are what makes the curve a chronology rather than a shape — the Moon is the only body whose crater counts and whose radiometric ages have ever been measured on the same square kilometre.$ Orbits

A surface dated by counting holes in it

Every age quoted for a surface in the solar system outside the Earth — a Martian lava flow, a crater on Mercury, the ice of Europa — comes from counting craters and passing the count through one curve. That curve was calibrated on nine square kilometres of the Moon, and it is nearly a straight line for three billion years and then is not.

Why a shell pulls a point inside it not at all. A double cone from a point inside a uniform shell. In the narrow-cone limit the far patch is 2.80 times further away and 2.80 times wider — the same number, checked to a part in a thousand before this figure is drawn. Its mass is greater by the square of that ratio and its pull weaker by the same square, so the two cancel in every direction.

Gravitation

A sphere pulls exactly like a point, and the proof is a pair of cones

Every orbit ever computed treats the Sun as a dot. That is not an approximation — for a spherical body it is exact, and the reason is a cancellation between two patches of a shell.

$The Hill radius against the mass ratio, and where four planets keep their outermost moon. The Hill radius R_H = a(μ/3)^⅓ and the exact L₁ distance from the same quintic, both in units of the planet's own semi-major axis, against the mass ratio μ = m/(M+m) from 10⁻⁸ to 0.12. The two are the same line to the width of the stroke across the whole planetary range — the cube-root formula runs 0.33% short of the exact L₁ distance at the Earth's mass ratio and 10.0% short at the right-hand edge — so the departure between them is drawn on its own percentage scale at the right, which is the only place it can be seen. Below the curves are the numerically determined stability limits, 0.5 R_H for a prograde satellite and 0.7 R_H for a retrograde one, and the outermost known satellite of each of four planets, each at a Hill fraction computed from that planet's own mass and orbit: Moon 0.257, Sinope 0.451, Phoebe 0.198, Neso 0.424. Of the four, three are retrograde — Sinope, Phoebe, Neso — and they reach 0.451 of their planet's Hill radius against 0.257 for the one prograde satellite: 1.8 times as far out, in a diagram whose two stability limits stand in the ratio 0.7 to 0.5. No equilibrium argument predicts that, and it is what the drawing makes plain.$ Gravitation

The region a planet may keep a moon in

A satellite is not held by orbiting but by orbiting inside the radius at which the Sun's tidal field would take it away. That radius is the same distance the innermost Lagrange point sits at, asked a different question — and the boundary the sky actually respects is smaller, by a factor that depends on which way the moon is going round.

Gravitation

The tunnel that takes the same time from anywhere

Inside a uniform sphere the field grows in proportion to the distance from the centre, which is Hooke's law. A body dropped down any straight tunnel arrives in the same time — and that time is the period of an orbit skimming the surface.

Gravitation

The system that gets hotter as it loses energy

The virial theorem makes a self-gravitating body's total energy equal to minus its kinetic energy. Radiating heat away therefore raises the temperature, there is no equilibrium to settle into, and every star and every cluster is running away from one.

255 km sees degree 154; 35786 km sees degree 6. The same field spectrum, multiplied by the upward continuation factor (R/r)ˡ⁺¹ for orbits at 255 km, 450 km, 800 km, 35786 km. A harmonic of degree ℓ has ℓ bumps around the planet, so it falls off with height like a wave of that wavelength — fast, and faster the finer it is. The horizontal rule is a measurement floor; where each curve crosses it is the highest degree that orbit can feel at all, and the answer is 154 at 255 km, 101 at 450 km, 65 at 800 km, 6 at 35786 km, or 130 km, 198 km, 308 km, 3340 km of horizontal resolution on the ground. Nothing in that arithmetic is an instrument. It is why GOCE flew at 255 kilometres with drag compensation rather than at a comfortable altitude with a better gradiometer, why the Moon's mascons were not seen until something orbited low over them, and why a geostationary satellite's ephemeris needs a field with four terms in it.

Gravitation

The field a satellite is allowed to feel

Past the flattening, a planet's gravity is a sum of harmonics whose sizes follow a rule with no physics in it. How much of that sum a spacecraft can measure is decided by its altitude and by nothing else — which is why one mission flew at 255 kilometres and had to push itself along.

7 decades of relaxation time, and a Hubble time between them. Crossing time and two-body relaxation time for 5 self-gravitating systems, against the number of bodies in each. The lower marks are the crossing time R/σ, which spans 3 decades; the upper ones are t_relax ≈ 0.1N/ln N times it, which spans 8. The horizontal rule is a Hubble time, and the same expression puts these systems on opposite sides of it. Two of them relax — an open cluster and a globular cluster — so their stars have exchanged energy, their heavy stars have sunk, and their present structure is not the one they were born with. The rest do not: a dwarf spheroidal, an elliptical galaxy, a cluster of galaxies, the elliptical missing it by a factor of 10⁶, which is why a galaxy is modelled as a smooth potential with no stars in it at all. The dependence is on N and hardly at all on anything else, because the Coulomb logarithm makes every decade of impact parameter contribute equally. A cluster that relaxes also evaporates: about a stellar mass in a hundred and forty leaves per relaxation time, so the globular cluster empties in 6.1·10¹¹ years.

Gravitation

How long a system takes to forget

A star crossing a galaxy is deflected by every other star, and the deflections add as a random walk. The time for that walk to change a star's energy by its own amount is a hundred million billion years for a galaxy and a billion for a globular cluster, and everything about how the two are modelled follows from which side of a Hubble time that falls on.

Gravitation

A cluster that boils itself away

A star cluster has no thermostat. Encounters between its members push a few of them above escape speed, the cluster loses them, and losing them makes it contract — which makes it hotter, which makes more of them escape. A self-gravitating system heats up as it loses energy, and the process ends by destroying the system.

The observed sky

The sphere that is not there, and why it is still the right model

The stars are at wildly different distances and the celestial sphere is a fiction. It is also the most useful fiction in observational astronomy, because for pointing at things, distance is exactly the information to throw away.

The observed sky

The day that is four minutes short

A star crosses the meridian 3 minutes 55.91 seconds earlier each night, and the same star slips 3 minutes 56.56 seconds a day against a civil clock. Those are two different numbers, and the gap between them is the one extra turn the Earth makes against the stars in every year.

$Five rules, and how fast each one leaves the seasons behind. The accumulated difference between a calendar and the seasons, for five leap-year rules, over 4000 years. Each is a straight line whose slope is the rule's fraction minus the tropical year's 0.2421897, and nothing else about a calendar matters to this plot — not which months are long, not where the year starts, not what anything is called. The Julian quarter is out by 11.25 minutes a year, which is one day every 128 years and is why ten days had to be removed in 1582. The Gregorian rule takes 3223 years to lose a day and the Persian 4264, in the other direction — the older rule is the better one, at a denominator of 33 against 400. The 128-year rule is level on this scale: 454545 years to a day, which is longer than any calendar has been kept — and it is not a separate invention but the Julian rule with its own error subtracted, since 1/4 − 1/128 = 31/128 exactly and the Julian drift is exactly one day per 128 years. What the figure cannot show is that the tropical year is itself shortening, by about half a second a century, so the slopes drawn here are the ones at the present epoch and every line is very slightly curved.$ The observed sky

A year that is not a whole number of days

The tropical year is 365.24219 days, so every calendar is a fraction chosen to approximate 0.24219. The continued fraction says which fractions are best, and the one in use is not among them.

The observed sky

A shape measured by the edge of a shadow

When a small body passes in front of a star the observable is two times. Multiply the interval by the body's speed across the sky and it becomes a chord across a silhouette no telescope can resolve — and enough chords give a profile to a kilometre or two, for an object a few hundred across.

Starlight

The triangle that reaches the stars, and stops

Parallax is the only distance measurement in astronomy that assumes nothing. It is also the only one with a hard ceiling, and everything beyond that ceiling rests on it.

$The fractional distance error, rung by rung. Cumulative fractional uncertainty in a measured distance against the distance itself, both on logarithmic axes. Each rung of the ladder is calibrated against the one below it, so its scatter adds in quadrature to everything already inherited, and the total can only rise: radar to the planets 10⁻⁵%, parallax 1.0%, main-sequence fitting 5.1%, Cepheids 6.5%, Type Ia supernovae 8.2%.$ Starlight

Every distance is measured with the last one

No single method reaches from a planet to a distant galaxy. The ladder is built rung by rung, each calibrated on the one below, and the errors multiply all the way up.

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

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.

$The Balmer maximum is at 9,870 K, and it is a maximum in temperature. What two absorption lines actually count, each normalised to its own maximum. The first curve is the fraction of all hydrogen sitting in n = 2 — the only hydrogen a Balmer line can absorb — which is a Boltzmann factor climbing with temperature multiplied by the neutral fraction falling with it. The product peaks at 9,870 K, where 35.2% of the hydrogen is still neutral and only 8.73·10⁻⁶ of all of it is in n = 2 at all. Below the peak there is plenty of hydrogen and almost none of it excited; above it there is plenty excited and almost none of it neutral. The second curve is the fraction of calcium that is singly ionised, which is what the Ca II K line counts, and it peaks at 6,335 K — cooler, because calcium gives up its first electron at 6.113 eV. At 6,000 K the Balmer curve is at 0.1% of its own maximum while Ca II is near its peak, and calcium is 4.5·10⁵ times rarer than hydrogen in the same gas. A spectrum in which Ca II K is the strongest line is not a spectrum of a calcium star. Reading it as one is precisely the error that had the Sun made of iron until 1925.$ Starlight

Why hydrogen's lines are strongest where hydrogen is not

A Balmer line counts the hydrogen atoms sitting in one particular excited state, and that population peaks near 10,000 K — where a third of the hydrogen has already been ionised away. The strength of a line is a thermometer, and reading it as an abundance put hydrogen at one per cent of the Sun until 1925.

Starlight

A period found in the gaps

Astronomical time series are sampled when the sky is dark and clear and the target is up, which is a schedule with a spectrum of its own. That spectrum is convolved with the real one, so a single sinusoid produces several peaks — and the tallest is not always the true one.

$What the error bar is made of, on a 1 m in 60 s. The four contributions to a photometric error, against the brightness of the star, for a 1-metre aperture, a 60-second exposure and a sky of 21 magnitudes per square arcsecond. The star's own photons give a line of slope exactly 0.2 — σ ∝ N^−1/2 and N ∝ 10^−0.4m, so a magnitude of extra faintness costs a fifth of a magnitude of precision, and no instrument changes that. The sky and the read noise are fixed counts, so their lines have slope 0.4, twice as steep, and they overtake the star at V = 18.25 — that crossing is the faint limit of the night, and it moves when the Moon rises rather than when the telescope changes. Scintillation is flat, because the atmosphere modulates a bright star and a faint one by the same fraction: at 4.09e-4 relative it is 0.44 millimagnitudes here and it is what caps the bright end, up to about V = 10.8. Below all of them is the systematic floor at 0.3 millimagnitudes, which is flat-fielding and colour terms and does not integrate down at all.$ Starlight

The faint star is measured against a brighter sky

For anything at the edge of detection the dominant source of noise is not the object. It is the sky in the same aperture, which is brighter than the star and is subtracted rather than measured — and once that is true, every rule of thumb about apertures, exposure times and image quality changes.

The light dust removes at 0.56 µm comes back at 124 µm. One energy budget drawn twice, on a wavelength axis spanning four and a half decades. The upper curve is starlight from a 6500 K photosphere; the shaded region under it is the part removed by a magnitude of visual extinction, computed from the same CCM law the other modes here draw, and weighted towards the ultraviolet exactly as that law says. The curve on the right is what the grains do with it: a modified blackbody at 20 K with an emissivity index of 1.8, normalised so that the energy under it equals the energy under the shaded region. Integrating the two curves actually drawn returns a ratio of 1.000. The starlight peaks at 0.56 microns and the re-emission at 124, a factor of 220, so nothing about the two is recognisable as the same photons and everything about them is the same joules. The practical consequence is a rule about arithmetic: a galaxy's ultraviolet luminosity and its far-infrared luminosity are not two independent measurements of how many young stars it has. One is the light that escaped and the other is the light that did not, and adding them without noticing counts part of the population twice.

Starlight

The dust is not lost light, it is moved light

An extinction curve says how much starlight dust removes. It does not say the light is gone. Every photon a grain absorbs heats the grain, which radiates it back out at twenty kelvin — so an extinction measurement and a far-infrared spectrum are two halves of one energy budget, and the area under them is the same area.

The Hertzsprung–Russell diagram. Luminosity against surface temperature, both in solar units and on logarithmic axes, with temperature increasing to the left. The main sequence is computed from the mass–luminosity and mass–radius relations; the dashed diagonals are lines of constant radius.

Stars

The diagram that sorted the stars, by plotting two things against each other

Plot brightness against colour for a few thousand stars and they do not scatter. They fall on a narrow band with two islands off it, and explaining that structure is most of stellar astronomy.

Luminosity against mass, against a slope of 3.5. Main-sequence luminosity against mass, both in solar units, on logarithmic axes, over the range 0.079 to 63 solar masses. The measured curve comes from the eclipsing binaries and is the same in every drawing of it; what changes here is what it is compared against. The dashed line is a pure power law of exponent 3.5, and the curve crosses it rather than following it — the local slope runs from about 2.3 at the bottom of the range, where the interiors are convective, through nearly 4 near a solar mass where bound-free opacity dominates, to about 3 among the massive stars where electron scattering does. Quoting one exponent across the whole sequence is a convenience and the places it fails are the places the interior physics changes. Because the slope is between three and four across most of the range, a small spread in mass becomes an enormous spread in output: the 63-solar-mass end is 3.0e+9 times brighter than the 0.079-solar-mass end.

Stars

Mass decides everything, by a power of three and a half

Two stars of the same mass are almost the same star. Double the mass and the output multiplies by eleven — which is why a modest range of masses produces a colossal range of stars.

Stars

Why the biggest stars die first, and take the galaxy with them

A star thirty times the Sun's mass has thirty times the fuel and burns it forty thousand times faster. It lasts a few million years, and everything heavier than iron exists because of it.

Stars

The furnace that runs cooler than a compost heap

The Sun's core produces 276 watts per cubic metre. A human body produces more. The Sun is bright because it is enormous, and its fusion is astonishingly slow — which is exactly why it lasts.

Stars

A star held up by a rule about counting

A white dwarf makes no energy and does not collapse. What holds it up is not heat or pressure in any ordinary sense — it is a quantum rule forbidding two electrons from occupying the same state.

$Inside a star that is holding itself up (polytrope n = 3). Temperature, density and pressure through a star, as fractions of their central values, against fractional radius. All three come from one numerical integration of the Lane–Emden equation at index 3, which is the hydrostatic balance written for a gas whose pressure is a power of its density. The inner half of the radius holds 90% of the mass, and the outer half is nearly weightless — which is why the load, and so the temperature, is concentrated where the burning is.$ Stars

A star is held up by its own weight

A star has a central temperature because it has a central pressure, and it has a central pressure because everything above is pressing down. The nuclear reactions do not set that temperature — they obey it.

$The main sequence against its own ceiling. Luminosity against mass, in solar units, with the Eddington limit drawn on the same axes. The limit is exactly linear in mass. The main sequence is not — until it is: above about 55 solar masses the relation flattens to a straight proportionality as well, and the two lines then run parallel at a fixed ratio of 83 per cent. They never cross on this range, which is the more interesting outcome: the most massive stars do not approach their limit gradually, they are built at a fixed fraction of it. The Sun, by contrast, radiates 0.0026 per cent of its own ceiling.$ Stars

A brightness that would blow the star apart

Light pushes. For a star of a given mass there is a luminosity at which the outward push on its own outer layers equals the inward pull of gravity, and it depends on nothing but the mass and the opacity — not on the star's structure, its composition or its age.

Stars

The resonance that had to exist

Three alpha particles cannot meet at once, and the two-body intermediate falls apart in 8×10⁻¹⁷ seconds. That is a hundred thousand times longer than a crossing time, which is just enough — provided a nuclear level sits at 7.65 MeV. Hoyle argued from the existence of carbon to the existence of the level, and it was found where he said.

Stars

The mass a cold star cannot exceed

A degenerate star's radius falls as its mass rises, and nothing in that relation suggests a limit. Making the electrons relativistic softens the pressure law until pressure and gravity scale the same way with radius — and the radius drops out of the balance, leaving one mass and no room to argue.

Stars

The part of a star that boils

Energy leaves a star's interior either by radiation or by bulk motion, and which one happens is settled by comparing two temperature gradients. The comparison decides that the Sun's outer third churns and its core does not, and that a massive star does exactly the opposite.

Stars

An age read off a bend

A cluster is a population of one age and many masses, so the place where its stars leave the main sequence is a clock. The bend needs a population — which is why a cluster has an age and a single star does not.

Stars

The star that swells because its centre shrank

A helium core contracts, and the envelope around it expands by a factor of sixty. The central density rises at the same time as the radius, which is the opposite of what a self-gravitating body is expected to do, and a burning shell between the two is the whole reason it happens.

Stars

Most stars are small, and most of the light is not

The mass function is steep and the mass–luminosity relation is steeper, so counting stars and measuring their output are integrals of the same function dominated by opposite ends of it. Every mass inferred from a brightness passes through that mismatch.

Stars

The explosion that never reaches the surface

When helium ignites in a degenerate core the thermostat every other burning stage runs on is disconnected. The runaway reaches ten billion solar luminosities for a few seconds, and the star's visible response is to get fainter.

Two measured numbers, and everything else on the page derived from them. 25 pulsars in the plane of period against period derivative, at their catalogued values. Only the two axes are measurements; the three families of contour are models. Constant surface field runs at slope −1 because B ∝ √(PṖ), constant characteristic age at slope +1 because τ = P/2Ṗ, and the two families cross the population at right angles — which is why a single dot fixes both. The Crab sits at 3.8·10¹² G and 1257 years, and its true age is 972; the millisecond pulsars at the lower left have fields ten thousand times weaker and characteristic ages of billions of years, because they were spun back up by a companion long after they died. The line at the lower right is the death line, B/P² below which the model says no pair production and therefore no radio emission — and J2144−3933 is drawn below it, an 8.5-second pulsar that is radiating anyway.

Stars

A clock that runs down and says what it is

A pulsar hands over two measured numbers, a period and its derivative. Everything else usually quoted about it — an age, a magnetic field, a luminosity — is derived from those two through a model, and the one measurement that tests the model refutes it.

$7 solar masses of progenitor become 0.56 of white dwarf. Above: the initial–final mass relation. The steep line is what a star would leave if it kept everything; the shallow one is what it actually leaves, M_f = 0.08M_i + 0.489, fitted to white dwarfs in open clusters. Everything between 1 and 8 solar masses ends up between 0.57 and 1.13 — a range of 7 compressed by a factor of 12 — and the fraction thrown away rises from 43% at the bottom to 86% at the top. A star spends most of its mass in the last per cent of its life, at rates no theory predicts from first principles, and this relation is measured by running stellar evolution backwards: a cluster's turn-off gives the age, a white dwarf's temperature gives its cooling time, the difference gives how long its progenitor lived, and a model turns that into the mass it was born with. Below: the white dwarf mass distribution that follows, from a Salpeter initial mass function pushed through the relation above. It peaks at 0.61 solar masses, which is what every survey of white dwarfs measures. Two things make that peak and the flatness of the relation is only one of them: the unsmoothed distribution (the stepped curve) falls monotonically and is largest at its low-mass edge, because the initial mass function is steep. The edge is where it is because no star lighter than about 1.0 solar masses has had time to die yet, and the scatter of the measurement rounds that cliff into a maximum a little above it. A flat relation produces a narrow range; it takes the age of the Galaxy to produce a peak.$ Stars

The mass a star does not keep

The initial–final mass relation is nearly flat, so everything from one to eight solar masses ends as a white dwarf between 0.57 and 1.13 — and the observed distribution piles up at 0.6 almost regardless of what went in. The relation is measured by running stellar evolution backwards, because nothing predicts the loss.

Seven sources over twelve decades of flux, and one threshold below the one that matters. The Sun's neutrino spectrum at the Earth, with the continua drawn per unit energy and the two monoenergetic lines as spikes at their own energies. The pp reaction supplies 91 per cent of all of them and its endpoint is at 0.4233 MeV. The vertical lines are experimental thresholds, and they are the figure's argument: only gallium sits below that endpoint. Chlorine, which produced the deficit and held it for twenty years, could not see a single pp neutrino — it counted ⁷Be and ⁸B, which are a rare branch of a rare branch, together under a per cent of the total — and the water detectors that followed were higher still. So the discrepancy that eventually turned out to be a property of the neutrino was measured, for two decades, using the least representative one per cent of the flux available. The total drawn here is 6.54·10¹⁰ cm⁻² s⁻¹, and it is checkable without any stellar model at all: every completed chain turns four protons into helium, releases 26.73 MeV of which 0.59 leaves as neutrinos, and emits two neutrinos — so the solar constant of 1361 W m⁻² fixes the number at 6.5·10¹⁰ cm⁻² s⁻¹, within 0.6 per cent of the sum of the model's own branches. The dominant flux is a consequence of the Sun shining and of nothing else.

Stars

The only thing that leaves the centre

A photon made in the Sun's core takes a hundred thousand years to get out and arrives thermalised past recognition. A neutrino takes 2.3 seconds and arrives unchanged, so its flux is the fusion rate now — which is why a factor of three could not be absorbed by any adjustment to the Sun.

Stars

A radius that decides what matter can be

Nobody can make matter at four times the density of an atomic nucleus, and no calculation settles what it does there. What can be done is to weigh a neutron star — every candidate description of that matter predicts a heaviest star it could hold up, and a single measured mass above that value deletes the description permanently.

Stars

Two explosions told apart by a missing line

The classification of supernovae is a decision tree on absences — is hydrogen there, is silicon there, is helium there — and it was drawn up decades before anybody knew what any of these events were. It nevertheless separates a detonating white dwarf from a collapsing stellar core almost perfectly, and the reason it does is worth the essay.

Circular and escape speed. Orbital and escape speed against distance, in units of the circular speed at the surface. The escape curve is the circular one multiplied by the square root of two, at every distance without exception.

Spaceflight

The speed that does not come back, and the √2 that separates it

Escape speed is exactly the square root of two times circular speed, at every distance from every body. Being in orbit is already 71% of the way to leaving.

$How much of a rocket has to be propellant. Propellant fraction against the velocity change bought, for three real propellant combinations. The curves approach 1 and cannot reach it, so every extra kilometre per second costs a larger share of what remains — which is why staging exists.$ Spaceflight

The exponential that decides what can be flown

A rocket carries its own reaction mass, so every kilogram of propellant has to be accelerated by the propellant beneath it. The result is exponential, and it is the reason spaceflight is hard.

$Payload fraction against the number of stages, for 9.4 km/s at three structural fractions. Overall payload fraction λ = λ₁ⁿ against the number of equal stages sharing 9.4 km/s, for structural coefficients 0.06, 0.08, 0.12 and an exhaust speed of 3.432 km/s (I_sp 350 s). At ε = 0.08 a single stage has a negative payload fraction, −1.67%: the mass ratio 15.5 it needs leaves less than the tankage weighs. That is the wall, and it is the structural fraction rather than the exponential — one stage tops out at vₑ ln(1/ε) = 8.67 km/s, 0.73 km/s short, so each curve begins where λ₁ crosses zero. At ε = 0.06 the same engine does clear 9.4 km/s in one stage, with 0.50% of the vehicle as payload — the wall moves with the tank, not with the engine. Two stages then buy 3.59% and five 4.66%, against a ceiling of 5.10% at infinitely many: the step from two stages to three is 0.67 points of payload, and the step from four stages to five is 0.14 points of payload — which is why a launcher is built with two or three stages and not with five. Falcon 9 Block 5 is plotted at its own mass table: 22.8 t of 549 t is 4.15%, and its per-stage structural coefficients are 0.061 and 0.040, both better than the 0.08 the family curve assumes.$ Spaceflight

The stage that has to be thrown away

The rocket equation does not forbid a single stage from reaching orbit. The tank does — by 0.73 km/s out of 9.4, which is close enough that the question stayed open for forty years and expensive enough that it was never once answered in flight.

20% more Δv, spread over 26 revolutions. A continuous tangential thrust from a circular orbit of radius 1 to one of radius 6.611, integrated from dr/dt = 2r·a_T/v with the primary's GM set to 1. The spiral costs |v₁ − v₂| = 0.6111 in units of the inner circular speed, against 0.5076 for the two-impulse Hohmann drawn on the same pair of circles — 20.4% dearer, and the excess is exactly the Oberth advantage the impulsive transfer collects by burning where the vehicle is moving fastest and the spiral throws away by burning everywhere. The revolution count follows from the thrust level and nothing else, and the count drawn here is not a real one: 26 revolutions at an acceleration of 0.0015 of the inner orbit's own gravity, chosen so that the spiral can be seen at all. A real electric transfer runs nearer 3·10⁻⁵, which is 1,296 revolutions of a curve no page could resolve. Halving the thrust doubles both the turns and the time and leaves the Δv exactly where it is. That separation is the whole reason low thrust is flown at all — the Δv is worse and the propellant is not, because the exponential in the rocket equation is over Δv/(g₀Isp) and an electric engine's Isp is the larger number by more than this 20%.

Spaceflight

The transfer that costs more the gentler it is

A continuous spiral from low orbit to geostationary needs a fifth more velocity change than the two-burn transfer, because the thrust is never at the one place it is worth most. It is flown anyway, and by a wide margin — because the exponential in the rocket equation changed sides.

A corridor 0.78° wide. Peak deceleration against entry flight-path angle, from sixty-one integrated entries at 11 km/s and β = 250 kg/m². The steep edge is where the load reaches 12 g, at 6.05°. The shallow edge is skip-out: below 5.27° the vehicle passes through the upper atmosphere and leaves again at 8.55 km/s, having lost too little speed to be captured. The corridor between them is 0.78° wide, which at an approach speed of 11 km/s is a targeting problem measured in kilometres of periapsis, days out. The curve is steep everywhere, which is the other half of the difficulty: half a degree of aiming error is a factor of 1.46 in the load. Lift is what widens this, and no ballistic capsule has any.

Spaceflight

A corridor a degree and a half wide

The peak deceleration of an entering vehicle contains no property of the vehicle at all. Only the speed and the angle of arrival decide how hard it is slowed — the ballistic coefficient decides where, and nothing decides whether.

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.

Spaceflight

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.

Mass against radius, and what lies between the curves. Planetary radius against mass on logarithmic axes, in Earth units, with composition curves computed from interior models rather than drawn through the points. The solid-planet curves are R ∝ M^(1/3.7) — flatter than a constant density because a heavier planet compresses itself — and the hydrogen curve turns over near three Jupiter masses, where degeneracy pressure takes over and adding mass makes the planet smaller. A mass alone or a radius alone places a planet on a line; only both together place it between two curves, and that is the whole argument for measuring a planet twice.

Exoplanets

Two methods, and one density

A transit gives a radius. A wobble gives a mass. Neither says what a planet is made of, and the two together say it in one number — which is the only reason both are worth doing on the same object.

$Contrast against separation, which is where direct imaging lives. Planet-to-star brightness ratio against apparent separation, both logarithmic, for a system 10 parsecs away. The reflected-light curves are A_g(R_p/a)² and fall as the inverse square of the orbit; the thermal curve is the ratio of two Planck functions at 10 µm and does not, which is why every imaged planet so far is young and hot rather than merely large. The vertical lines are diffraction limits λ/D — nothing inside a telescope's own line is reachable by it at any contrast at all. An Earth at ten parsecs sits at 6.3e-10, which is 4 orders of magnitude below the faintest planet yet imaged. The four imaged planets are plotted at their measured near-infrared contrasts rather than at 10 µm, because the near infrared is the band they were found in — which is itself part of the argument, since a young planet is hot enough to be bright where its star is not.$ Exoplanets

Nine orders of magnitude, half an arcsecond apart

Photographing a planet is not a resolution problem. It is a contrast problem, and the contrast is set by an inverse square that punishes exactly the planets a telescope can most easily separate.

$What each method can see. Planet mass against orbital distance, both logarithmic, with the detection threshold of each method drawn as the boundary it actually is. Radial velocity at 1 m/s needs mass rising as √a; astrometry at 20 µas needs it falling as 1/a, which is the only method that gets easier further out; a 100 ppm transit is a threshold on radius and so a horizontal line at about 1.4 Earth masses, cut off at 1.21 AU by the need for three transits in 4 years; direct imaging begins outside the diffraction limit, 0.6 AU at 10 parsecs for a 39 m aperture at 10 µm. The solar system is drawn on top: for two decades every one of its planets except Jupiter lay outside every region, which is the whole of what the early census was measuring.$ Exoplanets

Every survey draws a different sky

The first exoplanets found were enormous and impossibly close to their stars. That was not a discovery about planets. It was a measurement of what a 10 m/s spectrograph watching for three years is able to see.

Exoplanets

The planets that were not seen

An occurrence rate is a count divided by a probability, and the probability can be a five-hundredth. Everything difficult about saying how common planets are lives in that denominator.

Exoplanets

One number sets the zone

The habitable zone is a band of stellar flux, so it scales as the square root of luminosity and moves inward far faster than mass falls. For most stars it lies inside the radius at which a planet is tidally locked.

Exoplanets

A planet that is never confirmed, only validated

A background eclipsing binary diluted by the target's light reproduces a planetary transit depth exactly, and no amount of better photometry separates the two. Most known planets are therefore the output of a probability calculation rather than a detection, and the honest statement about them is a statement about a false-positive rate.

Pluto and Triton sit on the nitrogen line, and the Earth sits between helium and nitrogen. Escape speed against exospheric temperature, with a criterion line for each molecular species at v_esc = 6 v_th — the speed at which the Jeans loss time is comparable to the age of the solar system. Every line has slope one half, because the thermal speed goes as √T; a body above a line keeps that gas and a body below it does not. The horizontal axis is the temperature at the exobase, which for the Earth is near 1000 K rather than the 255 K of its equilibrium — the difference is extreme-ultraviolet heating, and using the wrong temperature puts the Earth above the hydrogen line, keeping an atmosphere it observably lost. Three readings are worth making. The Earth falls between helium and nitrogen and does exactly that: it loses helium as fast as radioactive decay supplies it, and keeps nitrogen for ever. Titan sits just above nitrogen and just above methane, which is why it has a thick nitrogen atmosphere and is slowly losing its methane. And Pluto and Triton sit on the nitrogen line, within 1 per cent — which is why both have atmospheres that are marginally bound and measurably escaping. Where it fails it fails in one direction only. Mercury, the Moon and the Galilean satellites all plot above lines for gases they do not have, because retention is necessary and not sufficient: a body also needs a source, and needs to survive the non-thermal losses this criterion says nothing about. Venus is the sharpest case — it sits above the hydrogen line and has still lost an ocean, because that hydrogen left by charge exchange with the solar wind rather than by moving fast enough.

Exoplanets

The gas a planet cannot keep

Escape is a statement about the tail of a distribution rather than about its mean, so the threshold is not a speed but a dimensionless number near thirty — and past that number the loss rate falls by twelve orders of magnitude. Then, for a hot Jupiter, the whole picture fails and the atmosphere leaves as a wind.

Exoplanets

The part of a rate that is a definition

Published values for the frequency of Earth-size planets in habitable zones span two per cent to sixty. The spread is not measurement error — it is where the box was drawn, on a surface that is steepest exactly at the corner every author has to choose, and outside the last detection.

Exoplanets

The line beyond which ice counts as rock

A disc of gas around a young star gets colder outwards, and at about a hundred and seventy kelvin water stops being vapour and becomes a building material. Crossing that one line multiplies the solid mass available by roughly three and a half, in a single step, and the architecture of every planetary system is downstream of it.

The rotation curve of NGC 3198, decomposed. Circular speed against radius for a three-component model of NGC 3198: a Hernquist bulge of 1.0×10⁹ M☉, an exponential disc of 2.20×10¹⁰ M☉ with a scale length of 2.6 kpc, and a pseudo-isothermal halo whose asymptotic speed is not chosen but solved for — it is whatever brings the total to the measured 150 km/s at 30 kpc, and comes out at 171 km/s. The components add in quadrature because accelerations add. The disc alone peaks at 5.7 kpc and falls away; the total does not.

Galaxies

A rotation curve that refuses to fall

Beyond the edge of a galaxy's light there is nothing left to enclose, so the orbital speed should fall away as the inverse square root of radius. It does not fall at all, and the shape of that refusal says the missing mass arrives at a constant rate for as far out as anyone can measure.

Galaxies

An arm that cannot be made of stars

A galaxy's disc turns differentially, so any feature made of a fixed set of stars is wound to invisibility within a couple of rotations. Spiral arms are ten billion years old and still open, which means an arm is a place rather than a thing.

Mass from a velocity dispersion, across nine decades. The virial estimate M = 5 σ²R_e/G, drawn for half-light radii from 0.2 to 20 kpc, with four systems placed on it: M32 at σ = 75 km/s and R_e = 0.1 kpc, giving 6.5e+8 M☉; the Milky Way's bulge at σ = 105 km/s and R_e = 1 kpc, giving 1.3e+10 M☉; M87 at σ = 320 km/s and R_e = 7 kpc, giving 8.3e+11 M☉; the Coma cluster at σ = 1000 km/s and R_e = 1500 kpc, giving 1.7e+15 M☉. The same expression spans from a dwarf elliptical to a cluster of galaxies — nine decades of mass — because the virial theorem does not care what the moving objects are. In the last case they are whole galaxies, and the estimate exceeds everything visible in the cluster by a factor of about fifty, which is where the problem was first noticed.

Galaxies

A galaxy held up by disorder

An elliptical galaxy barely rotates. What holds it up against its own gravity is the randomness of its stars' motions, and the virial theorem turns that randomness into a mass by exactly the reasoning that turns a rotation speed into one.

Three mass models, 2.3× apart in the disc, agreeing to 3.1 km/s everywhere. NGC 3198's rotation curve, decomposed three ways. The stellar disc has been scaled by 0.2, 0.65, 1.1 times its photometric mass, and for each scaling the halo's asymptotic speed and core radius have been fitted — not chosen — to reproduce the same total. The heavy curve and the marked points are that total: the three models agree with it to 3.08 km/s at every radius, well inside a measurement error of 4.5. The light curves below are the disc's own contribution, and at 17 kpc they differ by a factor of 2.3 — from 36 to 85 km/s — with the halo taking up exactly the slack, 126 down to 97. The curve is one function and the decomposition asks for two. The free parameter is the mass-to-light ratio of the stars, which the kinematics never measures, and it is why a "maximum disc" fit and a halo-dominated fit are both published for the same galaxy. The degeneracy does have one hard edge: scaling the disc to 1.35 times its photometric mass cannot be fitted by any halo in the family — the best leaves 5.6 km/s rms — because past the maximum-disc solution the stars alone already overshoot the curve and a halo cannot have negative mass. That is the one thing a rotation curve says about M/L on its own, and it is an upper limit. What separates the rest has to come from somewhere else: the vertical velocity dispersion of the disc, which weighs the stars alone; gas-rich dwarfs where there is scarcely a disc to argue about; or the baryonic Tully–Fisher relation, which ties the halo's speed to the baryons and would be a coincidence if the two were independent.

Galaxies

The same curve, two galaxies

A rotation curve is one function of radius. Decomposing it asks for two — how much of the speed is the stars and how much is the halo — and the mass-to-light ratio that trades one against the other is not measured by anything in the kinematics. A maximum disc and a halo-dominated fit run through identical points.

Galaxies

A cluster weighed three ways

The speeds of a cluster's galaxies, the temperature of its gas and the bending of light behind it are three measurements with almost nothing in common. They agree within a factor of two, and all three exceed the mass of the stars by about a hundred.

Galaxies

Two colours, and almost nothing between

Plot a few hundred thousand galaxies by colour and brightness and they do not fill the plane. They pile into a tight red sequence and a broad blue cloud with a near-empty gap between, and an empty gap is a statement about how fast something happens.

The luminosity function has a knee, and the knee is the point. A Schechter function with a faint-end slope of -1.25, a characteristic magnitude of -20.9 and a normalisation of 0.0093 per cubic megaparsec per magnitude, plotted logarithmically. Fainter than the knee the curve is a straight line — a power law — and brighter than it the count falls off exponentially, which is why there is no such thing as a galaxy ten times brighter than the brightest. Integrated across the range drawn, galaxies brighter than the knee are 1.3 per cent of the number and 26 per cent of the light: almost every galaxy is a dwarf, and almost all the light is not in one.

Galaxies

A count with a knee in it

Count galaxies by luminosity and the answer is a power law at the faint end and an exponential cut-off at the bright one. Almost every galaxy is a dwarf; almost none of the light is in one; and the bend between those two statements is where galaxy formation stops being efficient.

Galaxies

The mass at the centre that is not stars

One star at the centre of the Milky Way has been watched round a complete orbit. Its semi-major axis and its period give four million solar masses by Kepler's third law — and the volume that mass occupies is small enough to rule out every alternative to a black hole.

Galaxies

The gas runs out before the galaxy does

Divide a disc's gas by the rate it is turning that gas into stars and the answer is about two billion years — a seventh of the age of the disc. Every spiral still forming stars is therefore being fed from outside, and the star-formation law says the richer the disc, the sooner it starves.

Galaxies

A one-per-cent distortion, and a million galaxies to see it

A galaxy's own shape is unknown and scatters with a dispersion of about 0.3, so a coherent one-per-cent shear is thirty times smaller than the noise on any single measurement. Nothing is ever measured about one object; the estimator is an average, and the whole design of a survey follows from 0.3 over the square root of N.

$Gas outweighs stars 6:1, and the baryons come to 15%. Above: enclosed mass against radius for a 7-keV cluster with a beta-model gas profile, β = 0.65 and a 250-kpc core. The total is from hydrostatic equilibrium — the same equation that holds up a star, with the mass following from the density and temperature gradients and from nothing else — and comes to 9.98·10¹⁴ solar masses inside 2 megaparsecs. The gas, integrated from the same profile, is 1.6·10¹⁴; the stars in all the galaxies are 2.5·10¹³, 6 times less. Most of a cluster's ordinary matter is not in anything anybody would call an object. The two total-mass curves differ by the 15 per cent hydrostatic bias: some of the pressure holding the gas up is turbulence left from the last merger rather than heat, and a mass computed from the thermal pressure alone is low by about that — the assumption that makes the measurement possible is the one that biases it. With the correction, the baryons come to 15 per cent of the total, against the 15.7 per cent the microwave background gives for the universe as a whole. A cluster is large enough to have kept everything it started with, so its own accounting is a cosmological measurement. Below: the same gas seen two ways. X-ray surface brightness falls as (1+z)⁻⁴, so a cluster at redshift one is 16 times fainter per unit sky than the same cluster nearby; the Sunyaev–Zel'dovich distortion of the microwave background does not fall at all, because it is a fraction of a background whose own brightness rises by exactly the same factor. That is why a millimetre survey finds clusters at any distance and an X-ray survey finds the near ones.$ Galaxies

The baryons that are not in the galaxies

The stars in a cluster are about a seventh of its ordinary matter. The rest is ten-million-kelvin gas that is invisible optically and dominant in X-rays — and weighing it with hydrostatic equilibrium biases the answer low by exactly the amount the assumption is wrong by.

A one-parameter model, and 9 times too many metal-poor stars. The metallicity distribution of long-lived stars near the Sun — the bars — against two models of how a galaxy enriches itself. The closed box is as simple as a model of a galaxy can be: gas turns into stars, stars make metals and return them, nothing enters and nothing leaves. It has exactly one parameter, the yield, and it predicts the whole curve. It gets the peak roughly right and the tail catastrophically wrong: 13.7 per cent of its stars fall below [Fe/H] = -1 against an observed 1.6 per cent, a factor of 9. This is the G-dwarf problem, and the reason it is an argument rather than a discrepancy is that the failure cannot be fixed by changing the yield: the yield sets where the peak is, and moving the peak to fix the tail moves it away from the data. What is wrong is a boundary condition. Let gas keep arriving — pristine, at roughly the rate it is being consumed — and the gas is never both abundant and metal-poor for long, so few stars form while it is. That is the second curve, with 3.2 per cent below -1, and it needed no new nucleosynthesis and no new parameter beyond the fact of accretion. The picture cannot show the thing that would settle it directly, which is the infall itself: the gas arriving on the disc now is a few solar masses a year spread over twenty kiloparsecs, and it has never been securely detected.

Galaxies

A histogram that says the box was not closed

The simplest model of a galaxy enriching itself has exactly one parameter and predicts the whole metallicity distribution of its surviving stars. The solar neighbourhood's disagrees, in a specific direction — and the failure is not in the nucleosynthesis but in a boundary condition.

Galaxies

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.

Galaxies

The cloud that cannot hold itself up

A cold cloud collapses when gravity beats pressure, and the mass at which that happens falls as the square root of the density — so the collapse makes the condition for collapse easier, over and over, until the gas can no longer get rid of the heat. That is why a cloud of ten thousand solar masses makes a cluster and not a star.

$One star in 380 makes essentially all the ionising light. Three cumulative fractions against stellar mass, for a broken power-law initial mass function with slopes 1.3 and 2.3 breaking at 0.5 solar masses. Each curve says what share of one quantity is produced by stars heavier than the mass on the axis, and the three do not resemble one another. Only 0.41 per cent of the hydrogen-ionising photons come from stars below 15 solar masses, because the ionising output of a star climbs by five orders of magnitude between eight and twenty. One star in 380 is above that mass, and between them those stars hold 14 per cent of the mass. Those two numbers are the leverage in every star-formation rate quoted from an Hα line. What is measured is the light of a handful of very massive stars; what is reported is the mass of a whole population; and the number in between is an integral over a part of the mass function that no extragalactic observation reaches. The medians are marked but should be read with care, and the reason is visible in the curves: the mass-weighted median at 1.27 solar masses is a property of the population, while the light-weighted one at 58 is a property of where the plot stops — halving the upper mass limit moves it to 36. An integrand that rises with mass has its median wherever the axis ends.$ Galaxies

A birth rate measured from light nothing young emitted

A star-formation rate is quoted in solar masses per year, and nothing in the measurement counts a star or weighs anything. What is measured is a luminosity produced by about one star in four hundred, and the conversion to a mass is an integral over a part of the mass function that no extragalactic observation reaches.

Cosmology

The shift that is not a Doppler shift

Every galaxy beyond the Local Group has its lines shifted to the red, by an amount proportional to its distance. Read as a velocity that looks like a confession that everything is fleeing from here; read as a change of scale it says the opposite, because a uniform expansion produces exactly the same law measured from any galaxy in it.

Four expansion histories that agree exactly today. The scale factor against time, with the present at zero and every model normalised to a = 1 and an expansion rate of 67.36 km/s/Mpc there. That normalisation is the figure: four universes that are indistinguishable from a measurement made now, separated entirely by what is behind and ahead of them. Each curve is integrated from da/dt = aH₀E(a) rather than from its own closed form, so the four are compared through one routine. The age each implies is where its curve meets zero: empty (Ω = 0) 14.52 Gyr, matter only (Ω = 1) 9.68 Gyr, ΛCDM (Planck 2018) 13.80 Gyr, closed (Ω = 2) 8.29 Gyr. The empty universe's 14.52 Gyr is the Hubble time 1/H₀ exactly, which is what makes it the natural thing to measure an acceleration against. The closed model turns over and is stopped at its turnaround.

Cosmology

One number that is an age, a size and a density

The slope of the velocity–distance relation has units of inverse time, so it can be read as an age, multiplied by c to give a length, or squared to give a density. All three readings are natural, all three are quoted, and not one of them is the quantity it appears to be.

Cosmology

Four distances to the same galaxy

Inside the Local Group the word "distance" has one meaning. Past a redshift of about a tenth it has four, they disagree by factors of a hundred by the time the light is old, and one of them stops increasing and starts coming back.

$Four abundances, one free parameter. The abundances big-bang nucleosynthesis predicts, against the one number it is free to choose: η₁₀, the ratio of baryons to photons in units of 10⁻¹⁰. Four curves spanning nine decades, from a helium mass fraction of about a quarter down to a lithium abundance of one atom in ten billion, and they are not four independent predictions — they all come out of the same reaction network run at the same density. The horizontal bands are what is measured in the sky, each at its published one sigma. The measurement that matters is deuterium, because its curve is the steep one: inverting the drawn curve at D/H = 2.527e-5 gives η₁₀ = 6.11, and the ends of the observed interval give 6.06 to 6.15. The vertical band is what the microwave background gives, 6.13 ± 0.04, from the height of the second acoustic peak relative to the first. Those two agree to 0.4 per cent, and they have nothing whatever in common: one is a nuclear-reaction network run in the first three minutes and read off a quasar absorption line, the other is a fluid oscillation at four hundred thousand years read off a sky map. Lithium is the exception and it is not a small one — the network predicts 4.70e-10 at the microwave background's density and the halo stars show 1.60e-10, a factor of 2.9 too much, which is unresolved.$ Cosmology

Four abundances and one free parameter

In the first three minutes the universe ran a nuclear reaction network with exactly one adjustable number in it. That number predicts four abundances spanning nine orders of magnitude, three of them are observed and match, and the fourth is wrong by a factor of three and has been for twenty-five years.

$The same universe, four times, as a fraction of itself. Each bar is the fractional contribution of the four components to the total density at one epoch, computed from the Planck 2018 parameters by scaling each component from today: radiation as (1+z)⁴, both kinds of matter as (1+z)³, and Λ as a constant. The familiar figure — five per cent baryons, twenty-six dark matter, sixty-nine dark energy — is the top bar and only the top bar. At recombination the same universe is three-quarters dark matter and Λ is one part in ten million; before matter–radiation equality it is mostly radiation. A pie chart of the contents of the universe is therefore a statement about a moment, and the moment is the one it happens to be drawn in.$ Cosmology

A budget whose familiar part is five per cent

Five per cent ordinary matter, twenty-six per cent dark matter, sixty-nine per cent dark energy. The figures are quoted everywhere and each one comes from a different measurement, the denominator they are fractions of is itself built out of the expansion rate, and the whole chart is a statement about one instant that was a different chart at every earlier time.

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.

Cosmology

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

A horizon three times larger than the age allows

The universe is 13.8 billion years old and light travels one light year a year, so the observable universe should be 13.8 billion light years across. It is 46.1, nothing has outrun light, and the discrepancy is a piece of arithmetic rather than a paradox.

One length, leaving and returning. The comoving Hubble radius c/aH against the scale factor, both logarithmic. Everything to the right of the kink is exact and is the same cosmology as every other figure here: after inflation the comoving Hubble radius grows, as a in the radiation era and as √a in the matter era, then turns over once Λ takes hold. Everything to the left is a schematic — the energy scale of inflation is unmeasured, so neither the height of the plateau nor the 62 e-folds drawn is a number anybody has — but the shape is not negotiable: in any accelerated expansion H is nearly constant, so c/aH falls as 1/a. The consequence is the mechanism. The solid horizontal line is a fixed comoving length of 209 Mpc: it starts inside the Hubble radius, is carried outside during inflation, sits frozen while nothing can act across it, and re-enters at z = 1090, which is last scattering — it is the scale the first acoustic peak is made of. The dashed line above it is the comoving size of the whole observable universe, 14148 Mpc, and the figure's quiet second finding is that it is still outside the Hubble radius: the very largest angular scales in the microwave background have never re-entered, which is why they show the primordial spectrum with no acoustic processing on it at all. One crossing does two jobs: it makes the sky uniform, because everything now visible was once in causal contact, and it makes it not quite uniform, because a quantum fluctuation stretched beyond the horizon has nothing left that can smooth it out.

Cosmology

Two coincidences with one mechanism

Opposite sides of the microwave sky were never in causal contact and have the same temperature to one part in a hundred thousand. The total density sits on the knife edge of flatness, which is an unstable equilibrium. Two fine-tunings of quite different kinds, and one epoch of accelerated expansion removes both.

A slice 1,000 megaparsecs across. 872 galaxies in a wedge 1000 comoving megaparsecs deep, generated as a Thomas process — Poisson centres at 0.00012 per square megaparsec, 13 galaxies each on average, scattered about their centre with a Gaussian of 22 Mpc. That is not a simulation of how structure formed and does not pretend to be; it is the simplest clustered process whose correlation function is known exactly, which is what lets the next figure check a measurement against something rather than against itself. What it does reproduce is the impression: at this scale the distribution is obviously not uniform, there are groups and there are gaps, and the eye finds patterns in it readily — including several that are not there, because the eye finds patterns in a Poisson field too. The question the next two figures ask is the only one that settles it: at what separation does the clustering stop, and is there a scale above which a box of this universe looks like any other box?

Cosmology

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.

$A neutral fraction of 2.4·10⁻⁶ is already opaque. The Gunn–Peterson optical depth against the neutral fraction of the intergalactic medium, at z = 3, 5, 6.3, for Ω_b = 0.0493 and h = 0.674. Note the range of the vertical axis. A fully neutral medium at z = 6.3 gives τ = 4.1·10⁵, which is not absorption but extinction of everything; the medium reaches τ = 1 — the point at which it stops transmitting most of the light — at neutral fractions of 6.1·10⁻⁶ at z = 3, 3.3·10⁻⁶ at z = 5, 2.4·10⁻⁶ at z = 6.3. That is why the argument runs from the flux that survives rather than from the flux that does not. A spectrum showing any transmission at all between Lyman α and Lyman β is a measurement that the medium is ionised to better than one part in 164,727, and no fit to any absorption line is needed to establish it.$ Cosmology

A trough that proves the forest survived

A uniform neutral medium at redshift six would absorb Lyman alpha with an optical depth of four hundred thousand. So the existence of any transmitted light in a quasar's spectrum is a measurement — of a neutral fraction below one part in ten thousand — made from a detection rather than from an absorption.

Beyond redshift 1.87, what a galaxy does today will never be seen. For a galaxy at each redshift, the cosmic time of the last event on it that will ever be visible from here — not the last that has arrived, but the last that ever arrives, integrated to infinite future time. The horizontal line is the present, 13.8 billion years. A galaxy below redshift 1.87 has its curve above that line: its entire future will be seen from here, arriving ever more slowly and ever more redshifted, so it never quite disappears. A galaxy above redshift 1.87 has its curve below the line, and that is the whole content of an event horizon: what such a galaxy is doing today will never be seen, ever, by anybody here. Only a finite slice of its history is coming, and when the last of that light arrives the object stops changing. The redshift at which the curve crosses is 1.87, the comoving distance there is 16.7 billion light years against a particle horizon of 46.1, and the ratio of the volumes says that 95 per cent of the galaxies now observable are already beyond reach. Superluminal recession is not what does this. Everything past about redshift 1.5 has always been receding faster than light and is seen perfectly well, because the Hubble sphere grows to meet the photon; what closes the horizon is that with a cosmological constant the comoving Hubble radius stops growing and begins to shrink, so a photon that has not already been overtaken never will be.

Cosmology

The galaxies that are already out of reach

With a cosmological constant the comoving distance a photon can ever cover converges, so there is a redshift beyond which light leaving today never arrives. It is 1.87, and about ninety-five per cent of the galaxies now visible are past it — which superluminal recession has nothing to do with.

A sphere reconstructed as a spheroid, and two distortions 0.15 apart. Left: the acoustic scale in the plane of separation across the line of sight against separation along it, one quadrant of it. In the cosmology that actually holds, the sound horizon is a sphere of 99.0 h⁻¹ Mpc and its locus here is a quarter circle. That is the whole content of the Alcock–Paczyński test: nothing about the early universe distinguishes the radial direction from the transverse one, so any departure from a circle is a statement about the observer's arithmetic rather than about the ruler. Converting angles into transverse separations needs the transverse comoving distance and converting redshift intervals into radial ones needs H(z), so assuming distances 1.1 times too large and rates 0.94 times too small returns an ellipse of axis ratio 0.855 — and the ellipticity measures that distance times the expansion rate over c, in which the sound horizon has cancelled. A ruler of unknown length still measures a shape. The third curve is the difficulty: peculiar velocities also distort the same correlation function along the same axis, squashing it by 1/(1+β) = 0.704 for β = 0.42, and a squashing is a squashing. Separating a geometric distortion from a dynamical one is the entire art of the measurement, and it is done by using the fact that they have different dependences on scale — the velocities act on the broad-band shape and the ruler is a feature. Right and below: the two numbers the same feature gives at each redshift. Across the line of sight, the transverse distance divided by the sound horizon; along it, c divided by the expansion rate times the sound horizon. Two functions of the expansion history, from one bump in one correlation function, and their agreement with a single model is one of the sharper consistency tests in the subject.

Cosmology

A ruler measured along and across

The sound horizon is a sphere, and a sphere in a redshift survey is measured twice over — across the line of sight it gives an angle, along it a redshift interval. Two different functions of the cosmology out of one feature, and their ratio is a measurement with no ruler in it at all.

Fingers 3.1 times long, a large scale squashed to 0.92, and a test of gravity. Left: a 360-megaparsec slice of a clustered universe, as the galaxies actually sit. Right: the same galaxies as a redshift survey records them, with the line of sight up the page. Nothing has moved sideways, because an angle is an angle; every displacement is along the line of sight, because that coordinate came from a redshift and a redshift is the expansion plus whatever the galaxy is doing on its own. Two effects, opposite in sign and separated by scale. Inside a cluster the motions are virial and random, 720 kilometres a second of them, which at H₀ = 67.36 is 11 megaparsecs of smearing on an object a few across: the clusters become fingers 3.1 times longer than they are wide, all pointing at the observer, which is the one structure in cosmology that is definitely not real. On the scale of a supercluster the motions are coherent — everything is falling in, so the far side is approaching and the near side receding — and the structure is compressed rather than stretched, to 0.92 of its true extent here, measured on cluster centroids so the fingers have already averaged away. Below: why that compression is worth having. Its amplitude is the rate at which structure is currently growing, and the growth rate is Ωₘ(z) raised to a power that general relativity fixes at about 0.55. A theory of gravity that differs from general relativity on cosmological scales while matching every solar-system test changes that exponent and nothing else, and the two curves drawn — γ = 0.55 and γ = 0.68 — differ by only 4 per cent at redshift a half, against error bars of 12 per cent on the points beside them. The worst systematic in a redshift survey is the measurement — and it is a hard one, because a quarter of a change in the exponent that governs how gravity assembles structure moves the observable by less than the width of the curve it is drawn on. What the picture cannot show is the degeneracy that limits it: what is measured is fσ₈, a product, and separating the growth rate from the amplitude of clustering needs something else entirely.

Cosmology

A map that is not of positions

One axis of every redshift survey is not a distance but a velocity, and the difference is not noise. Inside a cluster it smears the galaxies into a finger pointing at the observer; on the scale of a supercluster it compresses the structure — and the amount of that compression is a test of gravity.

$One cluster moved to z = 1.8: one signal unchanged, the other 57 times fainter. The same cluster of galaxies placed at a series of redshifts, with two ways of detecting it compared. The Sunyaev–Zel'dovich decrement is flat, because it is a fraction of the microwave background and the microwave background has the same surface brightness at every redshift a cluster can sit at — moving the cluster further away shrinks it on the sky but does not make its shadow shallower. The X-ray surface brightness of the identical object falls as (1+z)⁻⁴, the dimming every surface brightness suffers in an expanding universe, and by z = 1.8 it is 57 times below where it started. This is why the cluster surveys that reach the early universe are millimetre surveys: an X-ray telescope's cluster catalogue thins out with distance and a Sunyaev–Zel'dovich catalogue is limited only by how large the cluster looks and by how faint a fractional distortion the instrument can measure. What the effect cannot supply on its own is a distance — the signal that does not know how far away the cluster is also cannot say — so every one of these clusters still needs a redshift measured the ordinary way, from a spectrum of a galaxy inside it.$ Cosmology

A shadow that does not get fainter with distance

Every other way of finding a cluster of galaxies gets harder the further away the cluster is. One does not. A cluster's hot gas scatters about one microwave background photon in a hundred to a higher frequency, and because the result is a fraction of a background rather than a flux from a source, the same cluster is exactly as detectable at ten billion light years as at one.

Cosmology

A map stretched by the thing it measures

A redshift survey plots galaxies at distances derived from their redshifts, and a galaxy's redshift contains its own motion as well as the expansion. So the map is systematically distorted — squashed on large scales, drawn out into radial spikes on small ones — and both distortions are caused by the gravity the survey exists to measure.

Galaxies

A flare that puts a ceiling on a mass

A star torn apart by a black hole lights up for a year. The tidal radius grows as the cube root of the hole's mass and the horizon grows as the mass itself, so above about a hundred million suns the star is swallowed whole and nothing is seen — which makes the existence of a flare a measurement.

Gravitation

A pair that heats what is trying to cool

A star cluster has a negative heat capacity, so it cannot reach equilibrium — its core contracts and gets hotter without limit. What stops it is a binary, and which way a binary exchanges energy with the stars around it is settled by one comparison of two energies.

Mass at the top, area at the bottom, 10 decades apart. Two moments of a collisional cascade's size distribution, per logarithmic interval of diameter, over 10 decades from a ten-micron grain to a hundred-kilometre parent body. Both axes are logarithmic and the vertical scale is arbitrary; only the slopes carry the argument. A population in which every collision makes fragments that go on to collide reaches a steady state where the same mass flows through every size per unit time, and that fixes the differential number distribution at an index of 3.5. The two consequences pull opposite ways. Mass per decade goes as the diameter to the power 0.5, so it climbs and almost all the mass is in the largest few bodies. Cross-sectional area per decade goes as the diameter to the power -0.5, so it falls, and almost all the area — which is what scatters light, what is detected, and what anything passing through gets hit by — is in the smallest. Over the range drawn the small end carries 10⁵ times the area of the large end and 10⁻⁵ times its mass. A disc's brightness therefore measures a population whose mass it says nothing whatever about, and the two numbers are connected only through the index of this line.

Orbits

Where the mass is and where the light is

A population that grinds itself up settles into a size distribution with a fixed slope, and that slope puts almost all the mass in the largest bodies and almost all the cross-section in the smallest. So a debris disc's brightness measures a population whose mass it says nothing about, and the two are connected only by the exponent.

$Dynamical friction is strongest at 0.97 times the dispersion, and weaker either side. The dynamical friction on a body moving through a Maxwellian sea of stars, against its own speed in units of the square root of two times the velocity dispersion. The dashed curve is the fraction of the field moving slower than the body, which is the only part of the field that contributes: a star overtaking from behind pulls the body forward exactly as often as one being overtaken pulls it back, so the fast tail cancels out entirely. That fraction rises from nothing to one. The drag is that fraction divided by the square of the speed, and the quotient of a saturating numerator and a growing denominator has a single maximum, here at 0.97. The consequences run in both directions. A body moving much faster than the stars around it is barely slowed at all, which is why a galaxy passing through a cluster at a thousand kilometres a second does not sink; and a body already at rest with respect to the field feels nothing either, because there is no wake to be behind it. Sinking is therefore fastest in the middle of the process rather than at the start of it.$ Gravitation

A drag that is strongest in the middle

Dynamical friction is not like air resistance. Only the stars moving slower than the body contribute at all, so the drag rises from nothing, peaks when the body has slowed to about the speed of everything around it, and falls away again — which is why a fast satellite is never captured and a slow one sinks in a hurry.

Accretion from a medium a body is moving through, against how fast it moves. The rate at which a gravitating body captures gas out of a medium it is ploughing through, divided by the rate it would capture at rest, against its Mach number, both axes logarithmic. The accretion radius is set by where the body's escape speed matches the speed of the gas relative to it, and that relative speed combines the sound speed with the motion in quadrature; the rate carries the square of that radius times the speed, which leaves one plus the square of the Mach number to the power minus three halves. Subsonic motion therefore costs almost nothing — the curve is flat below Mach one third — while supersonic motion costs the inverse cube of the speed, drawn here with a measured logarithmic slope of -2.99. The same focusing produces the wake and the drag: the body pulls a denser column behind it, that column pulls back, and the material closest to the axis is captured. Accretion and dynamical friction are not two processes but two accounts of one, which is why a body that grows by this mechanism is also being slowed by it.

Stars

The wake and the meal are one calculation

A body moving through gas gathers what passes inside the radius at which its escape speed matches the flow. That single radius sets both the drag it feels and the rate at which it grows, so accretion and friction are not two processes but two readings of one — and the rate falls as the inverse cube of the speed.

Galaxies

Red, gas-poor, and still spiral-shaped

A galaxy falling into a cluster meets a headwind of hot gas at two thousand kilometres a second. Where that ram pressure exceeds the disc's own grip on its gas, the gas goes; the stars, which are not a fluid and feel no pressure, do not. The result is a spiral with no fuel, and it is the commonest kind of galaxy in a cluster.

$Bubbles that meet at z = 5.3, and a scattering depth of 0.047. The fraction of the volume of the universe filled by ionised bubbles, integrated from redshift 20 down to 4.5. The equation has two terms and no others: photons escaping from young galaxies open new volume, at a rate taken from the measured cosmic star formation history with an escape fraction of 0.2; recombinations inside the bubbles close it again, on a timescale that is one over the density times the recombination coefficient times a clumping factor of 3. Early on the density is high and recombination wins almost everything; the curve is nearly flat. As the universe expands the recombination time lengthens as the cube of one plus the redshift while the star formation rate is still rising, the balance tips, and the filling factor runs to one in under half a billion years. It reaches unity at redshift 5.31, which is overlap — the moment the bubbles meet and the last neutral walls between them disappear. The same integration gives an electron-scattering optical depth of 0.0465 for the microwave background, against the 0.054 that is measured, and that agreement is the check: the two observations constrain the same history from opposite ends, one fixing when it finished and the other how long it took.$ Cosmology

It ends when the walls meet

Reionisation is usually described as the universe becoming transparent, which makes it sound like a change of state. It is not. Each young galaxy opens a bubble of ionised gas around itself and recombination closes it again, and what ends the epoch is geometric — the bubbles meet, and the last neutral walls between them disappear.

Prograde and retrograde, the same encounter. The same encounter twice: a companion of 1 times the primary's mass passing at 1.5 disc radii, with the disc spinning the same way the companion orbits and then the other way. Nothing else differs. The prograde disc grows a bridge towards the companion and a tail away from it; the retrograde one is barely disturbed. The reason is a resonance rather than a force: in the prograde case the outer particles keep pace with the companion for a substantial part of the encounter and are pulled the whole time, and in the retrograde case they sweep past it and the impulses cancel.

Galaxies

Whether it merges is a ratio of two times

Two galaxies passing each other either merge or do not, and what decides it is not how close they come. It is whether the encounter lasts long enough for the internal motions to respond — a slow, prograde passage transfers orbital energy into stellar orbits and the pair is bound; a fast one leaves both galaxies heated and still moving.

A gravity assist with a 68° turn. The velocity triangle of a flyby. In the planet's frame the spacecraft's speed is unchanged and only its direction turns; adding the planet's own velocity converts that turn into a gain in speed measured from the Sun.

Spaceflight

The planet pays, and it shows

A gravity assist takes energy from a planet and gives it to a spacecraft, and the planet's loss is exactly the spacecraft's gain. For a two-tonne probe past Jupiter that loss is unmeasurable. Do it with a hundred Earth masses of icy debris and the same bookkeeping moves Neptune outward by several astronomical units.

Stars

An equation of state is already a star

Write down how a gas's pressure depends on its density, insist that the pressure hold the weight up, and everything else follows — the run of density, the fraction of the mass inside each radius, and, at one particular index, a mass that does not care what the radius is.

Gravitation

Whether the heavy material sank

A moment of inertia is 0.4 of MR² for a uniform sphere and less for everything that has differentiated, and it is measured by watching a body wobble. Mercury's 0.346 says most of the planet is iron core; the Moon's 0.393 says almost none of it is.

The 2.3-hour spin barrier, and the small bodies that are allowed through it. Rotation period against diameter for a synthetic asteroid population, both axes logarithmic, with the horizontal lines marking where a body held together by nothing but its own gravity would fly apart. That limit is P = √(3π/Gρ) and it contains only the density: 3.30 hours at 1 gram per cubic centimetre, 2.33 hours at 2 gram per cubic centimetre, 1.91 hours at 3 gram per cubic centimetre. Size does not appear in it, which is what makes the figure's shape informative rather than obvious — a barrier that depended on size would be drawn as a slope, and a horizontal line crossing five decades of diameter is a much stronger statement. The observed population respects it. Above about two hundred metres nothing rotates faster than the 2.3-hour line, and the crowding just below that line is real: bodies pile up against a limit they cannot cross. Below two hundred metres the wall stops applying and the fast rotators appear, some of them turning in minutes. Nothing about gravity changes at that size. What changes is that a body small enough is a single coherent rock with tensile strength, while a body large enough is a pile of fragments with almost none, and the barrier is a measurement of which is which. The picture is a synthetic population drawn at random from a fixed seed rather than a catalogue, so the individual points are not asteroids; what is real is the barrier, its value, and the fact that only the smallest bodies are found beyond it.

Orbits

A wall with no size in it

Spin a body held together by nothing but its own gravity, and past a certain rate it comes apart. The rate depends on density alone — 2.3 hours for the stuff asteroids are made of — and the observed population respects the limit exactly, for every body larger than a couple of hundred metres.

Galaxies

An argument about the innermost kiloparsec

Simulations of cold dark matter have produced the same halo for thirty years — a density rising inward without limit. The rotation curves of the smallest galaxies say the density flattens off. The disagreement is confined to a region a thousandth of the halo's size, and it has not been settled.

Stars

A floor under the centre that assumes nothing

There is a lower bound on the pressure at the centre of any body in hydrostatic equilibrium, and it needs no equation of state, no composition and no temperature — only a mass and a radius. For the Sun it is nearly useless. For a neutron star it says which theory of gravity the interior needs.

The inflation threshold at 2·10⁵ W m⁻², and the 0.69 R_J above it. Radius against the starlight received, for a population of Jupiter-mass planets. The horizontal line is what a structural model gives for a cold, old, Jupiter-mass ball of hydrogen and helium: 1.06 Jupiter radii, and it hardly depends on mass at all in this range, because degeneracy is beginning to set in and the mass–radius relation is flattening toward its turnover. Planets receiving less than about 2·10⁵ watts per square metre sit on that line, with a median of 1.06, which is the control the rest of the figure depends on: the models are not wrong in general. Above the threshold the radii climb, reaching a median of 1.75 — half again the size a cold planet of the same mass can be — and the onset is sharp enough to be called a threshold rather than a trend. Starlight by itself will not do this. Irradiation is absorbed high in the atmosphere and re-emitted from there; it slows the escape of heat from below, which delays contraction, but it cannot deposit energy beneath the radiative–convective boundary, and it is the interior entropy that sets the radius. So the excess is evidence for a mechanism that carries roughly half a per cent of the incident flux down to pressures of tens of bars — ohmic dissipation of currents driven through a partly ionised atmosphere, breaking gravity waves, and tidally forced turbulence are the candidates, and the threshold is the number each of them has to reproduce. The points are a synthetic population from a seeded generator, not a catalogue; what is real is the threshold, the size of the excess, and the fact that the un-irradiated planets sit exactly where they should.

Exoplanets

A radius no cold planet is allowed

A Jupiter-mass ball of hydrogen has a maximum size, and it is about 1.06 Jupiter radii however old or young it is. Hundreds of hot Jupiters are half again that, and the excess switches on sharply above a threshold in the starlight they receive — which means something is putting energy in deep.

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

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.

$A lever 12 radii long, and the spin it removes. A magnetised stellar wind, drawn with the Alfvén surface at 12 stellar radii — the schematic distance at which the wind's inertia finally beats the field. Inside it the gas is forced to turn with the star, so every gram that leaves carries the specific angular momentum of the radius at which it broke free rather than of the surface it came from, and the lever squares: J̇ = (2/3) Ṁ Ω r_A². Beyond the surface the streamlines curve backwards, because angular momentum conservation makes the azimuthal speed fall as 1/r while the radial speed does not. With a moment of inertia coefficient of 0.073 and a mass loss of 2.3·10⁻¹⁴ solar masses a year, the star loses a fraction 2.3·10⁻¹⁴ of its mass and a fraction 3·10⁻¹¹ of its angular momentum in the same year — a ratio of 1,315, which is (2/3)(r_A/R)²/k² and nothing else. The e-folding time for the spin is 3.3·10¹⁰ years against 4.3·10¹³ years for the mass. Nothing here is to scale in one respect that matters: the wind's density falls by more than ten orders of magnitude across the drawn region, so the streamlines are drawn as though the flow were visible when almost none of it is.$ Stars

A wind that takes no mass and all the spin

The Sun loses about a ten-thousandth of itself to its own wind over its whole life. It loses most of its rotation to the same wind, and the whole of that asymmetry is one geometric factor — the gas is forced to keep turning with the star until it is a dozen or more radii out from the surface it left.

A halo is born with a spin of a few hundredths. The distribution of the dimensionless spin parameter λ = J|E|^½ ÷ (G M⁵ᐟ²) across dark matter haloes, drawn as a lognormal of median 0.035 and logarithmic width 0.5, with the disc scale length each λ implies printed along the lower axis. The distribution is required to integrate to one and to peak at 0.0272, which is the median times e raised to minus sigma squared, and is the signature of a lognormal rather than of a bell curve drawn to look like one. λ is small because a halo is supported by random motion rather than by rotation: a value of 0.035 means the halo turns at about three and a half per cent of the rate it would need to hold itself up centrifugally. It is also nearly independent of halo mass, which is what points at a common origin. Mapping it to a disc through R_d = λ R₂₀₀/√2 with all of the specific angular momentum retained, a 10¹²-solar-mass halo of radius 206 kiloparsecs gives 5.1 kiloparsecs at the median, against the 2.6 kiloparsecs the Milky Way's disc actually has. The gap is not a failure of the estimate; it is the measurement that the baryons arrived with less spin per unit mass than the halo they arrived in.

Galaxies

A disc the size its halo was born with

A galaxy's mass says how much light it makes. It does not say how big it is. What sets a disc's size is a single dimensionless number describing how fast the dark halo around it happens to be turning — a number the disc had no part in choosing, distributed the same way for every halo mass in the universe.

Gravitation

The second number a black hole has

A black hole in equilibrium is described by its mass and its spin, and nothing else. The mass decides how strongly it pulls. The spin decides how much light a kilogram of infalling matter can emit before it disappears — and between the two extremes that figure changes by a factor of seven.

A torque that stops when the patch lets go. Left, the mechanism: a protogalactic patch drawn as an ellipsoid of axis ratios 1:0.72:0.5, with the principal axes of the surrounding tidal field drawn across it at 30 degrees to its own. The torque is proportional to the difference of the patch's principal moments times the sine of twice that angle, so it is exactly zero when the two sets of axes agree — checked at both alignments — and largest at forty-five degrees. A spherical patch takes no torque whatever the field around it does, which is why the spin of every galaxy begins as a statement about its shape. Right, the angular momentum against time in units of the turnaround time: in linear theory the torque acts on a patch still expanding with the universe and the angular momentum grows as the first power of time, measured off the drawn curve as t^1.000. At turnaround the patch detaches from the expansion, its quadrupole shrinks, and the torque switches off — so a galaxy's spin is fixed before it has collapsed at all, by neighbours it will never interact with again. What the figure cannot show is the sign: the same mechanism gives no preferred direction, and the observed near-absence of alignment between neighbouring galaxies' spins is the check on that.

Cosmology

Spin acquired before there was anything to spin

Every galaxy turns, and nothing in a smooth expanding universe turns. The rotation was applied while the material was still a mildly overdense patch spread across megaparsecs — torqued by the tidal field of its neighbours, growing steadily with time, and switching off the moment the patch stopped expanding.

$Who holds the mass, and who holds the spin. The solar system's two ledgers on one logarithmic axis, each row a body or a group of them, with the pale bar its share of the mass and the dark bar its share of the angular momentum. Both columns are computed rather than quoted: the Sun's spin from 0.07 M R² Ω at a 25.38-day rotation, each planet's orbit from M √(GM☉ a (1 − e²)) with its own semi-major axis and eccentricity, and both sums are required to close to one part in a billion. The Sun holds 99.866 per cent of the mass and 0.61 per cent of the angular momentum. Jupiter holds 0.095 per cent of the mass and 61.1 per cent of the angular momentum, so a body a thousandth of the system by weight carries most of its rotation. The four inner planets together account for 0.0016 of it. A cloud collapsing to make this system had to move nearly all of its spin outward onto a small fraction of its mass, and the ledger is what that operation looks like when it is finished. What the figure cannot show is where the transfer happened, because everything that carried it away has either fallen in or left.$ Orbits

Ninety-nine per cent of the mass and none of the spin

The Sun holds 99.87 per cent of the solar system's mass and 0.6 per cent of its angular momentum. Jupiter holds a thousandth of the mass and three-fifths of the spin. That is not a curiosity of accounting — it is the record of the single operation that had to succeed before a star could form at all.

Galaxies

A cloud that cannot become a star

A molecular cloud core turning once every twenty million years sounds like a body at rest. Conserve its angular momentum through a collapse by a factor of ten thousand and it stops at the orbit of Neptune, spinning, having failed to make anything at all.

Stars

A neutron star born turning too slowly

Collapse an iron core a few thousand kilometres across down to twelve, and conservation of angular momentum multiplies its rotation rate by about eighteen thousand. A model with no transport in it delivers a newborn pulsar at the break-up limit; the ones that are observed turn twenty times slower, which is a measurement of the core before it fell.

Galaxies

An arm that is undone by the work it does

A spiral pattern takes angular momentum from the inner disc and delivers it to the outer, which lets mass move inwards without violating anything. It is paid for in random motion, and a disc with too much random motion cannot carry a wave — so the pattern destroys the conditions it needs to exist.

Stars

A surface that slowed because the star grew

A star leaving the main sequence expands by a factor of a hundred. Conserve its angular momentum and its equator slows by four orders of magnitude, which is why every red giant is a slow rotator. One or two per cent are not, and a giant turning at fifty kilometres a second has to have been given the angular momentum by something else.

Stars

A field that would have arrived ten thousand times too strong

A collapsing cloud carries its magnetic field with it, and the arithmetic of that is not negotiable — the field grows as the two-thirds power of the density. Run it from a diffuse cloud to a protostellar core and the answer is four orders of magnitude above anything measured on a young star.

A boundary that a sixty-fourfold gust moves by a factor of two. The standoff distance of a dipole magnetosphere against a wind, in planetary radii, against the wind's proton density, for three wind speeds. The boundary sits where magnetic pressure equals ram pressure — the only balance available, since the field exerts no force on neutral gas and the wind touches nothing. Because a dipole falls as the cube of distance its pressure falls as the sixth power, so the standoff goes as the ram pressure to the −1/6: at 450 km/s a density of 6 per cubic centimetre puts the nose at 9.3 radii — against a measured average of ten to eleven — and a sixty-fourfold compression moves it only to 4.7. That exponent is the reason a magnetosphere is a stable thing to have. It is also the reason the boundary's position is a poor measurement of the field: a factor of two in the distance is a factor of sixty-four in what caused it, so the standoff measures the wind badly and the planet's moment hardly at all.

The observed sky

A boundary that hardly moves

The magnetopause sits where the planet's magnetic pressure equals the solar wind's ram pressure. Because a dipole falls as the cube of distance, its pressure falls as the sixth power — so a sixty-fourfold gust in the wind moves the boundary by a factor of two, and a boundary that will not move is what makes a magnetosphere a stable thing to have.

Three motions, three decades apart, and that is the point. The three periods of a trapped 1-MeV electron's motion against the shell it is trapped on, on a logarithmic time axis. It gyrates about a field line in 0.22 milliseconds, bounces between its mirror points in 0.33 seconds, and drifts right round the planet in 16 minutes — ratios of 1498 and 3015 at L = 4. Each motion carries a conserved quantity: the magnetic moment, the longitudinal invariant, and the magnetic flux the drift shell encloses. The separation is what makes them conserved. An invariant survives anything that changes slowly compared with its own period, so a disturbance lasting minutes destroys the third and leaves the first two untouched — and a particle that keeps its magnetic moment while being moved inward to a stronger field must gain energy. That is not a loophole; it is how the belts are filled.

Spaceflight

Three clocks and nothing to fall onto

A charged particle in a dipole field gyrates, bounces and drifts, on timescales a millisecond, a second and a quarter of an hour. The three periods are three decades apart, and that separation is not a curiosity — it is the reason each motion has a conserved quantity, and the reason a magnetic storm can accelerate particles rather than merely stir them.

The energy at which the sky begins to point. Gyroradius against energy for a singly charged particle, in three field strengths, with the thickness of the galactic disc and the size of its halo marked. A cosmic ray is not an image of anything: its path is a helix about a field line, and by the time it arrives the direction it came from has been erased. The erasure is quantitative. At 3 µG a proton's gyroradius equals the disc's half-thickness at 4.2·10¹⁷ electronvolts and the halo's radius at 4.2·10¹⁹, so below the first the particle is stored and stirred for tens of millions of years, and only above the second does it travel in something like a straight line. The measured spectrum has a break — the knee — at about 3×10¹⁵ eV, which is within a factor of a few of the first of those; the sky only starts showing structure above 10¹⁹, which is the second. Two features of a spectrum measured on the ground, both located by one straight line on this plot.

Galaxies

The energy at which a sky begins to point

A cosmic ray arrives from a direction that has nothing to do with where it came from. Its path is a helix about a galactic field line, and only above the energy at which that helix is bigger than the galaxy does the arrival direction start to mean anything — which is one particle per square kilometre per century.

Thirty e-foldings erase the memory of a seed. Field strength against time for three seed fields 8 orders of magnitude apart, amplified at one e-folding every 3·10⁸ years — a galactic dynamo's measured turnover rate — and stopped at the 3·10⁻⁶ gauss the disc actually has. In 10 billion years the budget is 33 e-foldings, which is a factor of 3·10¹⁴. That is the finding: the three tracks reach the same ceiling within 5.5 billion years of one another, so the field a galaxy has today carries essentially no information about the field it started with. Any seed above about 10⁻²⁰ gauss will do, and mechanisms that produce far less than that are the only ones ruled out. The measurement that does constrain a seed has to be made where no dynamo ever ran, which means the voids between clusters — and the limit there comes from gamma rays that never arrived.

Cosmology

The seed that cannot be remembered

A galactic dynamo affords something like thirty e-foldings over the age of a galaxy, which multiplies any seed field above a ten-thousandth of a billionth of a microgauss up to the microgauss actually observed. The field a galaxy has today therefore says nothing about the field it started with, and the only place a seed survives unamplified is the emptiness between clusters.

Galaxies

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.

The shield that does not shield. Above: measured ion escape rates for three planets against their surface magnetic field. Venus and Mars have no dynamo at all and Earth has one, and the three rates lie within a factor of 9 — with the magnetised planet losing the most. The intuition that a magnetosphere protects an atmosphere is not a small correction away from being right; the measurement does not support it. Below: why. A dipole's field lines are not all closed. Those emerging within a polar cap reconnect with the wind's own field and lead straight to space, and the cap's area is set by how far the magnetosphere reaches — a boundary at ten planetary radii still leaves 5.1 per cent of the surface open. So a magnetosphere is both a shield and a funnel: it deflects the wind from most of the planet and collects ions from the whole ionosphere into the polar wind, which is exactly what an instrument above the poles measures leaving. Whether the net is protection depends on quantities nobody can compute from the field strength alone, and the three points above are the state of the evidence.

Exoplanets

The shield that is also a funnel

A magnetic field is supposed to protect an atmosphere from the stellar wind. Venus and Mars have no dynamo and Earth has one, and their measured ion escape rates lie within a factor of a few — with the magnetised planet losing the most, because a dipole's polar field lines are open and lead straight to space.

Stars

A threshold with no free parameter in it

Divide a cloud's mass by the magnetic flux threading it. Gravity and the magnetic force both fall as the inverse square of the radius, so the ratio cannot change during a collapse — and the critical value that separates a cloud which must collapse from one that never can is one over two pi root G, a pure constant.

Orbits

The drag that sorts a disc by size

Starlight does three different things to a dust grain depending on how big it is — blows it out of the system, drags it inward over millennia, or ignores it entirely. Which one happens is decided by a single length, and whether it happens at all is decided by how crowded the disc is.

One amplitude, and every point on this curve fits it. The set of distances and inclinations that produce the same measured amplitude in one detector. A binary seen face-on radiates most strongly along its spin axis, so it can be twice as far away as an edge-on binary and still arrive with the same strain — the curve is (1 + cos²ι)/2 and the factor between its ends is exactly two. Nothing in a single detector's data distinguishes the two ends. What makes this worse rather than merely awkward is that the prior pulls the other way: an isotropically oriented population has half its members beyond 60 degrees, so most binaries really are closer to edge-on, and a posterior that combines a flat likelihood along this curve with that prior returns a distance biased low with an error bar that understates the range. The whole business of standard-siren cosmology is the business of cutting across this curve.

Gravitation

A distance tangled with an angle

A gravitational wave carries its own distance, with no ladder underneath it and nothing to calibrate. What it also carries, inseparably, is the orientation of the orbit that made it — and one detector cannot tell a nearby binary seen edge-on from one twice as far away seen face-on.

Four defensible choices, and a factor of 2.9 between them. The Coulomb logarithm against the ratio of the two impact parameters it is cut off at. The curve is a logarithm, so it is flat — a factor of ten in the ratio buys 2.3 — and that is usually offered as the reason not to worry. The four marked conventions are all in current use and all defensible, and they give ln Λ from 3.4 to 9.9. Since the drag force is proportional to ln Λ and not to its logarithm, that is a factor of 2.9 in every sinking time computed from it. The flatness protects the answer from a wrong guess about the ratio; it does not protect it from there being no correct guess, which is the actual situation.

Gravitation

A drag computed with a logarithm nobody can pin down

Chandrasekhar's drag formula is exact, derived from first principles, and contains a logarithm of a ratio of two lengths that the derivation does not supply. Every sinking time in astronomy is proportional to that logarithm, and the four conventions in current use differ by a factor of three.

A step size below which a smaller step is worse. The error left in a long integration against the step size, for methods of three different orders, with both contributions drawn. The falling lines are truncation error, whose slope on these axes is exactly the order of the method. The rising line is round-off, identical for all three because it is a property of the arithmetic and not of the algorithm: every operation loses a few bits, the losses are independent, and they accumulate as the square root of the number of steps — which is why its slope is −1/2 and why it rises as the step shrinks. Each method's total has a minimum, at a step of 1.0e-6, 5.0e-6, 9.7e-4 for orders 1, 2, 4. Below that minimum every halving of the step costs time and makes the answer worse. That is the practical reason a solar-system integration is not run at an arbitrarily fine step, and it is a reason with nothing to do with computer time.

Gravitation

An error that grows like a random walk

A long integration accumulates two errors with opposite habits. One falls when the step is made smaller and grows in proportion to the time; the other grows when the step is made smaller and accumulates as a square root. Which of the two dominates decides whether a billion-year integration means anything.

$One over a noisy parallax, at three precisions. The distribution of the distance obtained by inverting a parallax, for a star truly at 100 parsecs measured with fractional errors of 5, 10, 20 per cent. At five per cent the distribution is nearly symmetric and inverting is harmless. At twenty per cent it is strongly skewed: the mean sits at 105 parsecs rather than 100, and the tail runs to distances several times the truth, because a parallax scattered a little towards zero is a distance scattered a long way outward. The asymmetry is a Jacobian and nothing else — the parallax measurement is unbiased and symmetric throughout. Above about twenty per cent the mean of the distribution stops existing at all, because the density falls only as the inverse square of the distance and the integral of d times that diverges.$ Starlight

The distance is not one over the parallax

A parallax is measured with symmetric errors and a distance is one over it. Inverting a noisy positive quantity is not a change of units — it is a change of distribution, and the one that comes out is skewed, biased outward, and above about twenty per cent error has no mean at all.

$A high end that is 2.5 in slope steeper than the one stars were born with. The mass function a star count measures against the one stars were born with, for a population that has been forming stars steadily for 10 billion years. Below about a solar mass nothing has had time to die, so the two coincide exactly. Above it the fraction still alive is the main-sequence lifetime divided by the age, and since the lifetime falls as the two-and-a-half power of the mass, the present-day function is steeper than the initial one by exactly that exponent. A count of massive stars in an old population therefore under-represents them by orders of magnitude, and reading it as an initial mass function gives a slope far too steep. The correction is large, it is calculable, and it depends on the star-formation history — which is usually the thing the mass function was going to be used to constrain.$ Stars

A mass function corrected by an age

Counting stars by mass gives the stars that are alive. What every argument needs is the stars that were born, and the two differ by the fraction of each mass still on the main sequence — which is a lifetime divided by an age, and which for massive stars in an old population is a very small number.

A free parameter worth 88 kelvin across its plausible range. The effective temperature a stellar model predicts, against mass, for three values of the mixing-length parameter. The parameter has no derivation: it is the distance a convective blob is supposed to travel before dissolving, in units of the local pressure scale height, and it is fixed by requiring that a model of the Sun reproduce the Sun. The three curves span 88 kelvin, which at fixed luminosity is a radius difference of 1.5 per cent — comparable to the precision with which radii are now measured by interferometry and by eclipsing binaries. Every stellar age, every isochrone and every mass inferred from a position in the temperature–luminosity plane depends on the value chosen, and there is no reason beyond convenience to expect the solar value to apply to a red giant or to a metal-poor dwarf.

Stars

A length nobody derived, fitted to one star

Convection in a star is turbulent, three-dimensional and impossible to compute inside an evolution code. What is used instead is one number — how far a blob of gas travels before dissolving — fixed by requiring that a model of the Sun come out with the Sun's radius, and then applied to every star ever modelled.

Stars

A convective boundary with no theory to fix it

A convective core has an edge where buoyancy vanishes. A blob arriving there still has momentum, so it carries on, mixing fresh hydrogen into the core and extending the star's life. How far it carries on is a fitted parameter, and across its plausible range every stellar age changes by nearly half.

Two bands 2.1 standard deviations apart, and neither is a point. The plane of the matter density against the amplitude of matter fluctuations, with the constraints from a weak-lensing survey and from the microwave background drawn as bands. Lensing measures the shear produced by structure along the line of sight, and that shear depends on how much matter there is and on how clumpy it is in a fixed combination — more matter arranged less clumpily gives the same signal. The locus is a power law of exponent one half, and the combination it fixes is written S₈. The two bands are separated by 2.1 standard deviations, and whatever that separation is, it is a statement about the growth of structure between recombination and now rather than about either measurement's precision. Neither band alone determines either quantity, which is why the disagreement is quoted in the combination rather than in the parameters.

Galaxies

Two parameters that lensing measures as one

A weak-lensing survey measures how much the shapes of distant galaxies are distorted by the matter in front of them, and that distortion depends on how much matter there is and on how clumpily it is arranged. The two enter as a product. What the survey determines is one number, and the disagreement between surveys and the microwave background is stated in that number because neither measures either quantity alone.

Three mass models, one rotation curve. Rotation curves for three decompositions of the same galaxy, from a disc contributing 30 per cent of the outer rotation to one contributing 95. Each is the quadrature sum of a stellar disc, whose shape is fixed by the light distribution and whose amplitude is an unknown mass-to-light ratio, and a dark halo with parameters of its own. All three reproduce the same flat outer rotation, because the halo's amplitude is adjusted to make up whatever the disc does not supply. They differ in the inner few kiloparsecs, by 27 kilometres a second here — which is more than the measurement error and less than the uncertainty in the disc's own contribution, since that depends on a mass-to-light ratio nobody measures directly. The maximum-disc assumption picks the largest disc consistent with the data, and it is a convention rather than a result.

Galaxies

Three mass models that fit the same curve

A rotation curve is one function of radius and it is fitted with three components, only one of which is known. The stellar disc's contribution scales with a mass-to-light ratio nobody measures, and whatever the disc does not supply the dark halo does — so a family of models reproduces the same curve exactly, and choosing among them is a convention rather than a measurement.

$A dipole 187 times the signal, and its own harmonics under it. The amplitude of each harmonic of the observer's own motion imprinted on the microwave sky, against the anisotropies of the sky itself. Moving at 369.8 kilometres a second through a blackbody field makes it hotter ahead and cooler behind by a fraction β = v/c, giving a dipole of 3.36 millikelvin — 187 times the 18 microkelvin anisotropies. Each further harmonic is smaller by another factor of β, so the kinematic quadrupole is 4.15 microkelvin, which is comparable to the real quadrupole and has to be subtracted separately. The dipole is not a nuisance in one respect: it is the measurement of the solar system's motion with respect to the radiation, and it is the most precisely known velocity in astronomy.$ Cosmology

A dipole a hundred times the signal

The largest structure in the microwave sky is the observer. Moving through a blackbody radiation field makes it hotter ahead and cooler behind by three and a third millikelvin — nearly two hundred times the anisotropies that all of cosmology is read from — and removing it is the first operation on any map.

Take 8 per cent off the horizon and the tension is gone. The Hubble constant against the sound horizon at recombination, along the locus the microwave background's measured angular scale fixes. What is measured is an angle — the angular size of the horizon, to a part in three thousand — and an angle is a length divided by a distance, so extracting an expansion rate requires the length. That length is computed from the physics of the first four hundred thousand years: the baryon density, the radiation density, the number of relativistic species and the recombination history. Change any of those and the locus is unchanged while the point on it moves. The horizontal band is the late-universe measurement from the distance ladder, and it meets the locus at 136 megaparsecs — 8 per cent shorter than the standard model gives. That is the arithmetic behind every proposal to resolve the disagreement by changing the early universe rather than the late one.

Cosmology

A constant that is an angle divided by a length

The microwave background does not measure an expansion rate. It measures one angle — the apparent size of the sound horizon at recombination — to a part in three thousand, and converting that angle into a rate requires the horizon's physical length, which is computed from a model of the first four hundred thousand years rather than observed.

$Residuals of 112 per cent nearby and 2.2 far out. Deviations from a pure Hubble flow, in per cent, against distance. Each galaxy carries a peculiar velocity of a few hundred kilometres a second — part a coherent bulk flow shared with its neighbours and part a random dispersion — and that velocity is added to its recession. Since the recession grows with distance and the peculiar velocity does not, the fractional error falls as one over the distance: it is 112 per cent at 5 megaparsecs and 2.2 at 250. The practical consequence is a lower cut-off on any Hubble-constant measurement: below about 40 megaparsecs the motions dominate, and the coherent part does not average away over a sample because neighbouring galaxies share it. Choosing that cut-off is one of the analysis decisions a local expansion rate depends on.$ Cosmology

A residual that is somebody else's velocity

A redshift is not a distance until the galaxy's own motion has been removed, and galaxies move at a few hundred kilometres a second. Nearby that is comparable to the expansion itself, so the local Hubble diagram's scatter is motions rather than measurement — and the motions are shared between neighbours, so they do not average away.

Cosmology

A length in centimetres, measured against an angle

A cluster's hot gas offers two line integrals of the same electrons — one linear in density, one quadratic. Two equations in two unknowns give back the path length in centimetres, and a length divided by the angle it subtends is a distance with no rung of any ladder beneath it.

Exoplanets

The band moves and the orbit does not

A star brightens as it burns, so the distance at which water can be liquid sweeps outwards by a factor of one and a half across a main sequence. The band a survey quotes is an instant; the band a planet needs is the overlap of every instant, and for the Sun it is a tenth as wide and does not contain the Earth.

$The spin a mismeasured radius reads as. The spin inferred from the disc's inner radius, against the fractional error in that radius, for four true spins. Both spectral methods reduce to one measurement — where the disc stops — and one conversion, the ISCO relation, so this figure is the error propagation both of them share. The behaviour is not uniform and it is the reverse of what the difficulty of the measurement suggests. A ten per cent error reads a hole of true spin 0.3 as anywhere from 0.16 to 0.44, while the same ten per cent moves a hole of true spin 0.99 only between 0.98 and 1.00. The reason is that the ISCO falls from six gravitational radii to one over the whole range of spin and does most of that falling in the last few per cent, so near the extremal limit a small change in radius is a large change in spin and the inversion is stiff. The published spins clustering near 0.9 and above are therefore the ones least sensitive to the systematics, and a published spin of 0.3 carries an error bar the method cannot really support. An overestimated radius always reads slow, so anything that stops the disc outside the last stable orbit biases every measurement the same way.$ Gravitation

A spin that is one length in disguise

Both ways of measuring a black hole's spin from its light measure the same thing — where the accretion disc stops — and convert it through the same relation. That conversion is stiff at high spin and slack at low, so the published spins near one are the trustworthy ones and the published spins near a third are barely measurements.

$A family of 276, or of 582, depending on one number. Membership of a synthetic family against the cutoff velocity used to define it, for a family of 260 genuine fragments ejected at 15 metres a second sitting in a background of 417 unrelated bodies. The clustering is single linkage in the standard proper-element metric, started from one object and grown until nothing more is within the cutoff of anything already absorbed. Three curves: the number of objects claimed, scaled to its largest value; the fraction of the real family recovered; and the fraction of the claim that is background. The shape is the whole difficulty. At low cutoff the family is fragmented and only its core is found. There is then a plateau — near 58 metres a second here, giving 276 members of which 6 per cent are background — and that plateau is what every published family list is chosen at. Past it the count runs away, because single linkage absorbs an object and then searches from the object it has just absorbed: one chance interloper bridges the family to the belt and the algorithm returns half the main belt. Completeness and contamination rise together, so there is no cutoff at which both are good and the plateau is a compromise rather than a discovery.$ Orbits

A family whose size is a choice

Nothing observable distinguishes a collisional fragment from an asteroid that happens to be nearby. Membership is assigned by clustering at a cutoff velocity, and the same family has 276 members or 582 according to which cutoff is used — with completeness and contamination rising together, so no cutoff is good.

Nine dates, and a gap from 0.8 to 3.1 billion years. The lunar crater chronology and the samples that fix it: crater density per square kilometre against age, the density axis logarithmic. Every point is a laboratory measurement on returned rock — six mare and highland units dated by crystallisation, four young craters dated by how long their ejecta has been exposed to cosmic rays. The curve is a fit of N(T) = A(e^(λT) − 1) + BT with the exponential rate swept over 6 to 7.9 per billion years and the two amplitudes refitted at each; the best fit lands at λ = 6.95, against the 6.93 the published chronology uses, which is a check on the fitting rather than an input to it. What the figure exists to show is where the anchors fall in time. Six of them lie between 3.15 and 3.92 billion years, four between 0.026 and 0.80, and there is nothing whatever between 0.8 and 3.1 — a gap covering half the age of the solar system. The consequence is drawn as the spread of the acceptable curves: a surface whose crater density says 3.5 billion years is dated to ±0.03 billion by this family, and a surface at 2 billion to ±0.13. The chronology is a measurement where the astronauts landed and an interpolation everywhere else.

Orbits

Nine dates for every surface in the solar system

Every absolute age quoted for a planetary surface — Martian volcanism, Mercury's plains, the resurfacing of Europa — descends from radiometric dates on rocks returned from nine landing sites on one body. Six of them fall between 3.15 and 3.92 billion years, and there is nothing at all between 0.8 and 3.1.

A factor of 100 in the wind, 8 degrees in the aurora. The latitude of the last closed field line against the solar wind's dynamic pressure, for a dipole of 0.31 gauss at the equator. The chain is short and every link is exact. Pressure balance puts the magnetopause at a distance going as the sixth root of the field pressure over the ram pressure; a dipole line reaching equatorial distance L returns to the surface at colatitude arcsin(1/√L); so the polar cap's edge is that, and the aurora sits just equatorward of it on the outermost closed lines. Across the 100-fold range of pressure drawn — which covers everything from a quiet wind to a severe storm — the magnetopause moves from 13.1 to 6.1 planetary radii and the oval from 74.0 to 66.1 degrees. The shaded band is where the oval is actually observed. The open magnetic flux is exactly the reciprocal of the standoff distance, so it rises by a factor of 2.15 over the same range — which is the quantity that actually matters for a storm, and it is the only one of the three that changes by much.

The observed sky

An aurora that is a sixth root inside an arcsine

The magnetopause distance fixes which field lines are open, the open ones map to a cap around each pole, and the cap's edge is where the aurora is. A hundredfold change in the solar wind moves that edge by eight degrees — and across planets whose fields differ by four orders of magnitude it moves by ten.

Spaceflight

The fragments nobody can see and cannot shield against

A catastrophic collision in low orbit makes about a thousand pieces big enough to track and sixty thousand big enough to destroy a spacecraft. The catalogue is under two per cent of the hazard, the gap is not one better radars will close, and the fragments' lifetimes span a factor of twenty-five within a single event.

Stars

An exponent that is a slope, not a law

The phrase “L goes as M to the three and a half” stands in for a curve with three straight pieces and two corners. The exponent is 2.3 below half a solar mass, 4 in the middle and falls towards 1 at the top — and each change of exponent is a change in which opacity is carrying the energy out.

Stars

A clock that stops while its interior freezes

A white dwarf has nothing left to burn, so its brightness is a record of how long it has been cooling — until the interior crystallises. The latent heat of that phase change, and the settling of a heavy isotope through what is left, hold a massive white dwarf up for nearly three extra billion years.

Cosmology

A factor of three, and the flatness that prices every cure

The oldest stars in the Galaxy show a third of the lithium the first three minutes should have left. Three kinds of resolution have been offered, and the datum that rules on all three is not how much lithium is missing but how uniformly it is missing.

$A bound on the baryon density from an abundance nobody can extrapolate. Primordial deuterium against the baryon density, with the upper bounds that the solar system's own deuterium and helium-3 place on it. The inequality is D_p ≤ D_obs + ³He_obs/g₃, and it holds for any star-formation history whatever: a deuteron entering a star becomes ³He, so the pair can only be moved from one member to the other and then destroyed, never increased. With pre-solar values of D/H = 2.0e-5 and ³He/H = 1.5e-5, the bounds are 3.50e-5 at g₃ = 1, 5.00e-5 at g₃ = 0.5, 8.00e-5 at g₃ = 0.25 — and because deuterium falls with density, each upper bound on the abundance is a lower bound on η: η₁₀ > 4.98, η₁₀ > 3.99, η₁₀ > 2.97. The weakest of them, at a survival fraction of 0.25, still excludes 52 per cent of the density range below the answer. That was the state of the measurement for most of the 1980s, and the shape of it is the thing worth carrying: an abundance too poorly understood to be extrapolated at all still constrained the quantity, because its direction of change under processing was known even though its magnitude was not. The microwave background's 6.13 sits above every bound drawn, which is not a coincidence and is not evidence — a bound that excluded the answer would have been an error, and a bound that admits it is only a bound.$ Cosmology

An abundance with no direction to correct in

Every primordial abundance is measured today and extrapolated backwards, and the extrapolation works because processing moves each species one way. Helium-3 is made by small stars and destroyed by large ones, so the sign of its correction is not merely uncertain — it is unknown.

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.

Cosmology

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

The clock on which light travels in straight lines

Cosmic time makes light cones bulge and horizons curve. There is another time coordinate on which a photon's worldline is a forty-five degree line at every epoch, and on it the horizon problem stops being a piece of arithmetic and becomes a question about whether two triangles overlap.

$Whether an event horizon exists at all, against one number. The comoving event horizon today — the distance a signal sent now will ever cover — against the equation of state of the dark energy, for a flat universe with the measured matter density. The curve runs away at w = −1/3 and does not exist above it: that is where the expansion stops accelerating, and in a universe that does not accelerate the integral ∫da/a²E diverges and every galaxy is eventually reachable, however far away. Below −1/3 the horizon is finite and shrinks as w falls, because a more negative equation of state makes the dark energy density grow with time rather than stay constant. At the cosmological constant's w = −1 the horizon is 16.7 billion light years against a particle horizon of 46.1, so 4.7 per cent of the volume now observable is still reachable. The band is the measured −1.03 ± 0.03. What the figure is for is the asymmetry in what the measurement still allows: two sigma toward zero puts the horizon at 17.5 Gly and two sigma the other way at 14.7, and the shape of the curve means that the closer the true value sits to −1/3 the more violently the answer moves. The reachable fraction is not a robust number in the way the particle horizon is.$ Cosmology

Whether there is a horizon at all

An event horizon exists precisely when the expansion accelerates, and its size is not a smooth function of how much. The integral that defines it runs away as the equation of state approaches minus a third, so two sigma either way on a measured number are two very different futures.

Two horizons, one formula, and a factor of two. Horizon temperature against horizon radius, on logarithmic axes, for the two kinds of horizon this collection has. The upper line is a de Sitter horizon at T = ħc/2πk_BR and the lower is a Schwarzschild horizon at T = ħc/4πk_BR — the same expression with the same constants, differing by exactly two, and both falling as one over the radius so that a bigger horizon is a colder one. The cosmological horizon today has a radius of 4,451 megaparsecs and a temperature of 2.65e-30 K, which is thirty orders of magnitude below the microwave background and will never be measured by anything. A solar-mass black hole sits at 6.2e-8 K, and a black hole as cold as the sky would weigh 2.32e+22 solar masses — of the order of the mass inside the observable universe, which is not a coincidence, since both numbers are c³/GH up to factors of order one. The factor of two between the two lines is the one place the analogy is not exact, and it is not a convention: it comes from the periodicity of the Euclidean time coordinate, which is 8πGM/c³ for a black hole and 2π/H for de Sitter space. The entropies, by contrast, agree exactly.

Cosmology

Two horizons that differ only in who is inside

A black hole's horizon and the cosmological one share an entropy formula exactly and differ in temperature by precisely a factor of two. The factor of two is the whole of the difference, and what it encodes is which side of the surface the observer stands on.

$Where the 9.4 km/s should be divided between two unequal stages. Overall payload fraction against the share of the 9.4 km/s given to the first stage, for a vehicle whose two stages are not alike: kerosene and oxygen, first stage at ε = 0.06 and I_sp 300 s, so vₑ = 2.942 km/s; hydrogen and oxygen, second stage at ε = 0.09 and I_sp 450 s, so vₑ = 4.413 km/s. The curve falls to zero at both ends, because a stage asked for too much Δv has a negative payload fraction and the vehicle does not close. The maximum is at 26.8 per cent — 2.52 km/s in the first stage and 6.88 in the second — and it delivers 5.130 per cent of the lift-off mass as payload against 4.240 per cent for an equal division. The gain from optimising is 21.0 per cent of the payload — worth having on a vehicle whose payload is five per cent of its mass, and small next to the difference the second stage's exhaust speed makes. What the shape says is more useful than where the peak is: moving ten points either side of the optimum still delivers 4.905 per cent, so the penalty for getting the split wrong is 4.4 per cent of the payload. A penalty that small is why launch vehicles are staged on structural and operational grounds — where the tank domes go, which engines exist, what can be transported by road — and the calculus is run afterwards to check that nothing has been left on the table. Note also which way the optimum leans: the better stage is the second, and it is given more of the work, because a share of Δv bought at a higher exhaust speed costs less mass.$ Spaceflight

The split that is not an equal split

Two stages sharing a velocity budget do not share it evenly, and the calculus that divides it hands more of the work to whichever stage has the better exhaust speed. The optimum is interior, it is worth about a fifth of the payload, and at this mission it is flat enough that nobody designs to it.

Exhaust speed against the molecular weight of the exhaust. The ideal exhaust speed of a converging–diverging nozzle, √(2γ/(γ−1) · R_uT_c/M · [1 − (p_e/p_c)^((γ−1)/γ)]), against the mean molar mass of the exhaust, at three chamber temperatures — 2200, 3000, 3600 K — with γ = 1.2 and an expansion to 1 per cent of chamber pressure. Every choice a propellant makes enters through two symbols, and the speed goes as the square root of their ratio: four times the chamber temperature doubles it, and a quarter of the molar mass doubles it too. That symmetry is the point. A cooler flame with a lighter exhaust beats a hotter one with a heavier, and the marked combinations show it — hydrogen + oxygen at M = 10, T_c = 3500 K, 441 s; methane + oxygen at M = 20.5, T_c = 3550 K, 310 s; kerosene + oxygen at M = 23, T_c = 3670 K, 298 s. The hottest flame drawn belongs to kerosene + oxygen and the fastest exhaust to hydrogen + oxygen, which are not the same entry. Hydrogen's advantage is not that it burns hot; it burns slightly cooler than kerosene. Its advantage is that the mixture is run fuel-rich on purpose, so the exhaust carries unburnt hydrogen and its mean molar mass falls to about 10 rather than water's 18 — buying more in the denominator than it loses in the numerator.

Spaceflight

Choosing a propellant is choosing a molecular weight

An exhaust speed is the square root of a chamber temperature divided by a molecular weight, so a cooler flame with a lighter exhaust beats a hotter one with a heavier. Hydrogen wins the rocket equation and loses the tank, and the two cannot be optimised separately.

Where the missing kilometres a second go. The two losses along a gravity-turn ascent, against the vehicle's thrust-to-weight ratio at lift-off, from an integration of the trajectory rather than from a table. Every run spends the same 9400 m/s of ideal Δv and every one is flown as the same manoeuvre: one pitch kick, solved by bisection so that the vehicle is horizontal at burnout, and thereafter zero angle of attack so that gravity alone turns it — which makes the steering loss identically zero and the comparison a fair one. What differs is how much of the Δv survives as speed. The gravity loss is ∫g sin γ dt, the part of the thrust spent holding the vehicle up rather than accelerating it, and it falls as the thrust rises because a vehicle that leaves quickly spends less time doing it: 1263 m/s at T/W = 1.15 against 381 at 2.2. The drag loss is ∫(D/m) dt and it rises, because the same haste means reaching high speed lower down where the air is: 119 m/s against 1874. The sum is least at T/W ≈ 1.5, at 1198 m/s, and the minimum is shallow — which is why real vehicles cluster between 1.2 and 1.5 and none of them is there because of this curve. At the marked 1.5 the 9400 m/s of ideal Δv leaves the vehicle at 8202 m/s and 42 km, against a circular speed of 7884 m/s there, so the 1198 m/s of loss is the whole of the answer to why orbit costs about 9.4 km/s when orbital speed is under 7.9.

Spaceflight

Orbit costs 7.8 and a launch buys 9.4

The gap between orbital speed and the velocity change a launcher spends is not overhead. It is three integrals along the ascent, only one of which can be reduced by flying better, and the two that can be traded move in opposite directions.

$The mass ratio an interstellar probe needs, and the exhaust that decides it. Mass ratio against final speed, for four exhaust speeds given as fractions of c, on a logarithmic vertical axis. The relativistic rocket equation replaces the velocity change with the rapidity artanh(β), which is the quantity that adds when velocities are combined, so the mass ratio is exp(c·artanh β / vₑ) and the dashed curves are the Newtonian exp(βc/vₑ) for comparison. The two agree wherever the speed is small and part company above about a third of c, with the relativistic answer always the dearer of the two. What the figure is really about is which curve a mission sits on: reaching 0.95c needs a mass ratio of 3.29e+26 at vₑ = 0.03c, 9.02e+7 at vₑ = 0.1c, 2.57e+2 at vₑ = 0.33c, 6.24e+0 at vₑ = 1c. A fusion drive with a realistic exhaust speed sits at the left of that list and the numbers are not engineering numbers. Even the photon rocket — vₑ = c, the fastest exhaust physics permits, and requiring the propellant to be converted entirely to directed radiation — needs a mass ratio of 1.73 to reach half of c and 4.4 to reach nine tenths. The equation never forbids a speed. It prices one, and the price is exponential in a quantity that itself runs to infinity.$ Spaceflight

An equation that does not break at the speed of light

Relativity replaces the velocity change in the rocket equation with the rapidity, which adds where velocities do not. The equation therefore never forbids a speed — it prices one, and the price is exponential in a quantity that itself runs to infinity.

Exoplanets

An event of a few hours and no host

The Einstein crossing time is the square root of the lens mass and nothing else changes, so a free-floating Earth produces exactly the light curve a star does, at exactly the same height, and is over in ninety minutes. What decides whether it is found is cadence rather than sensitivity.

15 revolutions of a 185 km swath. The band an instrument 185 km wide sweeps over 15 revolutions of a 233/16 repeat orbit at 98.2° and 699.6 km, drawn on an equirectangular map. Each band's edges are placed 92.5 km either side of the track on the sphere, so the bands really are the same width everywhere and only look wider towards the poles because this projection stretches longitude by 1/cos φ. Successive passes are 24.72° of longitude apart, and across the track at the equator that is 2691 km — so neighbouring passes leave strips about 2,506 km wide unimaged between them at the equator, while near ±82° the same bands lie on top of one another many times over. Filling the tropical strips is what the rest of the 16-day cycle is for.

Spaceflight

A swath is sized at the equator

An imaging satellite's tracks crowd together towards the poles and spread apart towards the equator, so whether a swath leaves gaps is settled at the equator and nowhere else. The order in which a repeat cycle then closes those gaps is not orbital mechanics at all. It is a theorem about points on a circle.

How far across the ground a satellite can be seen from, at 0, 10, 30° masks. The footprint of a satellite — the largest angle at the Earth's centre between the point beneath it and a station that can still see it above an elevation mask — against altitude, on a logarithmic axis. λ = arccos(R cos ε / (R + h)) − ε. At low altitude it grows as the square root of the height, λ ≈ √(2h/R), drawn dashed for the horizon mask, so doubling a low orbit's altitude widens its footprint by only about forty per cent; far out it saturates, and no altitude sees past 90° − ε. At 420 km (a space station) the 0° footprint is 20.2°, a circle 2,254 km in radius holding 3.1 per cent of the Earth's surface. At 20,180 km (a navigation satellite) the 0° footprint is 76.1°, a circle 8,472 km in radius holding 38.0 per cent of the Earth's surface. At 35,786 km (geostationary) the 0° footprint is 81.3°, a circle 9,050 km in radius holding 42.4 per cent of the Earth's surface. Raising the mask costs most at low altitude: at 420 km a 10° mask takes 38 per cent off the footprint's radius and 62 per cent off its area, because most of what a low satellite could see is near the horizon, while at 35,786 km the same mask takes 20 per cent of the area.

Spaceflight

The circle a station can see

A ground station can talk to a satellite only while the satellite is above its horizon, and the region it can do that from is a circle drawn round the point beneath the spacecraft. The circle grows as the square root of the altitude and then stops growing, the time spent inside it diverges at one altitude, and the stations that get the most contact are not where anyone would first put them.

A 5/5/1 constellation at one instant: where no satellite is above 0°. The points beneath the 5 satellites of a 5/5/1 Walker delta pattern at 43.5°, at 11,605 km, at one instant, with each satellite's 0° footprint — a circle 69.2° in radius at the Earth's centre — drawn round it, on an equirectangular map that swells the circles towards the poles. The shaded cells are ground with no satellite above the mask: none at this instant. Everywhere else is seen by between 1 and 3 at once. The largest empty circle at this instant is 67.6° in radius, computed exactly from the satellites' directions, inside the footprint, which is why there are none.

Spaceflight

Five satellites and not four

No single orbit keeps a satellite above every point on the Earth. How many are needed is a question about the largest empty circle among their directions at the worst instant, and it has sharp answers. Four can never do it, five can from 11,605 kilometres up, and past that the arrangement of the orbits matters as much as their number.

When the Orion Nebula can be observed from latitude 52°, through a year. Every night of 2027, from local noon to the following noon, for a station at latitude 52°. The shaded cells are the times at which the Orion Nebula (right ascension 5.59 h, declination −5.4°) stands at least 20° above the horizon while the Sun is more than 18° below it. The two outer curves are the start and end of astronomical darkness, which never comes on 64 nights around midsummer; the diagonal line is the object's transit, which arrives four minutes earlier each night and wraps through the whole day once a year. It crosses local midnight on 15 Dec, when the object stands opposite the Sun. The shaded season is the stretch of the year either side of that date in which the transit falls inside the dark hours. From this latitude the object transits at 32.6° altitude; it is observable on 181 nights for at least an hour, for 6.3 hours on the best of them (3 Jan), and for 860 hours in the year.

The observed sky

A right ascension is a date

An object can be observed only when two clocks agree — the sidereal clock that brings it high in the sky and the solar clock that makes the sky dark. The two drift apart by one turn a year, so every right ascension has a season, every latitude gives that season a different length, and an object that never sets is best observed at the opposite time of year from the one its right ascension names.

The zenith sky after sunset, as single scattering predicts it. The brightness of the zenith sky at 550 nm, in magnitudes per square arcsecond with brighter upward, against the Sun's depression below the horizon, computed by single scattering in a spherical atmosphere: US Standard Atmosphere densities, Rayleigh scattering, a 300 Dobson-unit ozone layer, and every photon scattered exactly once. The Earth's shadow climbs the zenith as R(sec d − 1) — 8.7 km at 3°, 35.1 at 6°, 142 at 12° — through air that thins by a factor of e every eight kilometres or so, so the brightness does not fall steadily: it falls 1.4 magnitudes a degree between 3° and 6°, and 2.7 a degree between 7° and 10°. The model gives 14.3 at the end of civil twilight and 27.0 at the end of nautical. The dashed line is the natural night sky, 21.9 magnitudes per square arcsecond. Single scattering reaches it at 9.25° of depression — 8.8 degrees before the 18° at which astronomical twilight is observed to end. The difference is not an error in the arithmetic; it is the light this model leaves out, scattered more than once.

The observed sky

The shadow that climbs the zenith

After sunset the sky overhead is lit only above the Earth's own shadow, and the shadow climbs as the square of the Sun's depression. Scattering computed once from that geometry predicts a sky that dims faster and faster and is as dark as night by nine degrees. The real sky takes eighteen, and the difference is light that has been scattered more than once.

How much a galaxy's redshift changes in 10 years, and which way. The change in a galaxy's apparent recession velocity over 10 years of the observer's time, c ż/(1 + z), against the galaxy's redshift, for three universes with the same present expansion rate of 67.36 km/s/Mpc. The drift is (1 + z) H₀ − H(z): positive if the expansion rate at the galaxy's epoch was less than (1 + z) times today's, which is to say if the expansion has been accelerating since. In the empty universe the expansion rate is exactly (1 + z) H₀ at every epoch and nothing drifts at all. In the matter-only universe the expansion has only ever slowed, and every redshift falls: −8.6 cm/s over 10 years at z = 1 and −25.5 at z = 4. In ΛCDM the drift is positive nearby, largest at z = 0.63 where it reaches 2.51 cm/s, changes sign at z = 1.91, and is −5.5 cm/s at z = 4. The whole signal is a few centimetres per second in a decade, against the thirty kilometres per second of the Earth's own orbital motion that has to be removed from every spectrum first.

Cosmology

A redshift that changes while it is watched

A galaxy's redshift is a ratio of two sizes of the universe, and the second one is still growing while the light is being collected. So every redshift drifts, by a few centimetres per second in a decade, and the direction of the drift says whether the expansion has been speeding up since the light left — the one test of that question that needs no distance and no model of any source.

Galaxies

The line a star is swallowed at is not the horizon

A star torn apart by a black hole makes a flare, and a star swallowed whole makes nothing, so the heaviest hole that can produce a flare is a measurement. That ceiling is set not at the horizon but at the closest orbit from which infalling matter can still come back out — twice as far out for a hole that does not spin, and moved by a factor of five by the hole's rotation.

The expansion rate and the acceleration, and which of them reaches inside an orbit. Two quantities per unit distance through cosmic time, both in units of today's H₀². The square of the expansion rate, H², falls steeply from the big bang and is 1.00 today by definition. The acceleration of the expansion, ä/a, is the sum of a matter-and-radiation part, −Ωₘ/(2a³) − Ωᵣ/a⁴, drawn dashed, and the cosmological constant's part, ΩΛ = 0.685, which is the same at every time. The sum was negative — the expansion decelerating — until the universe was 7.7 Gyr old, at a = 0.614 or redshift 0.63, and is 0.527 today. The equation of motion of anything orbiting inside a bound system carries ä/a and never H: the rate at which distant galaxies recede does not appear in it at all. Of ä/a, the matter part is the mean density of the universe, which inside a galaxy or a planetary system is already counted in the mass that is doing the holding, many million times over. What is left is the constant: a fixed outward acceleration per unit distance, ΩΛ H₀², that does not grow with time and does not care how fast the universe is expanding.

Cosmology

An orbit feels the acceleration and never the rate

If space expands, it is natural to ask why the Earth's orbit does not. The answer is not that gravity resists the stretching. It is that the expansion rate never appears in the equation of motion of a bound orbit at all — only the acceleration does, and of that only the cosmological constant's part survives, as a fixed outward push that moves the Earth's orbit once, by twelve picometres, and never again.

How far the Sun has to sink before the sky darkens, on four worlds. The dimming of the zenith sky relative to sunset, in magnitudes, against the Sun's depression, for single scattering in an isothermal atmosphere with the stated scale height and vertical optical depth, scattering isotropically: the Earth (R 6371 km, H 8.5 km, τ 0.097); Mars (dust) (R 3389.5 km, H 11.1 km, τ 0.5); Titan (haze) (R 2574.7 km, H 50 km, τ 4); Pluto (haze) (R 1188 km, H 50 km, τ 0.02). These are representative values for the layer that does the scattering — air on the Earth, dust on Mars, haze on Titan and Pluto — not full models of those atmospheres. The angle over which a sky darkens is set by the height of the scatterers against the size of the planet, √(2H/R), because that is the depression at which the shadow over the zenith has risen one scale height. The Earth dims by ten magnitudes at 8.6° of depression, which at the equator of a world whose solar day is 24 hours takes the Sun 35 minutes. Mars (dust) dims by ten magnitudes at 13.4° of depression, which at the equator of a world whose solar day is 24.66 hours takes the Sun 55 minutes. Titan (haze) dims by ten magnitudes at 29.8° of depression, which at the equator of a world whose solar day is 382.7 hours takes the Sun 31.7 hours. Pluto (haze) dims by ten magnitudes at 43.9° of depression, which at the equator of a world whose solar day is 153.3 hours takes the Sun 18.7 hours.

The observed sky

The air's height against the planet sets the twilight

On the Earth the sky overhead fades over about nine degrees of the Sun's descent. That angle is not a property of air or of sunlight. It is the square root of twice the height of the scattering layer divided by the radius of the planet, and on a small world with a tall haze it grows to tens of degrees — so that twilight on Titan lasts more than a day.

6 potentials against the tilt and the tensor bound. Predictions in the plane of spectral index and tensor-to-scalar ratio, each drawn as a short track from 50 e-folds to 60, the range usually allowed for the pivot scale to have left before the end of inflation. The vertical band is the measured index, 0.9649 ± 0.0042 with its two-sigma extent, and the shaded region above 0.036 is excluded at 95 per cent by the B-mode polarisation limit — drawn as two independent limits, which the published constraint is not quite: the real likelihood is a correlated contour, and it is somewhat tighter than this box in the corner where the tilt is high. λφ⁴: nₛ 0.9412, r 0.3137 at 50 e-folds; 0.9508, 0.2623 at 60 — outside; m²φ²: nₛ 0.9604, r 0.1584 at 50 e-folds; 0.9669, 0.1322 at 60 — outside; linear φ: nₛ 0.9701, r 0.0796 at 50 e-folds; 0.9751, 0.0664 at 60 — outside; φ^⅔: nₛ 0.9734, r 0.0532 at 50 e-folds; 0.9778, 0.0443 at 60 — outside; natural, f = 7: nₛ 0.9569, r 0.0906 at 50 e-folds; 0.9628, 0.0670 at 60 — outside; Starobinsky: nₛ 0.9616, r 0.0042 at 50 e-folds; 0.9678, 0.0030 at 60 — inside. The simplest potential of all, a mass term, is excluded over its whole range of e-folds, and not by the tilt, which it matches — by the tensors.

Cosmology

A ratio that is an energy and a distance

The tensor-to-scalar ratio is the one inflationary observable that measures the height of the potential rather than its shape, and the quantity it fixes is an energy — a ratio of 0.01 means inflation happened at 10¹⁶ GeV. It fixes a second thing as well, how far the field travelled, and near the present bound that distance is several Planck masses, which is where the theory stops being able to vouch for itself.

The observed sky

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.

The path of a spin across the sphere of fixed momentum. A body with principal moments 1, 8, 8.6, started about its axis of least inertia with a 3° wobble and an internal energy sink strong enough that the whole motion fits in 80 turns and each circuit of the path can be seen. The disc is the near hemisphere of the sphere of fixed angular momentum, seen from a direction between all three body axes, with the near end of each axis marked. Each thin curve is a contour of kinetic energy on that sphere — a polhode, one of the paths the angular momentum can follow in the body with no dissipation — and the thick curve is the separatrix through the intermediate axis, which divides motions that circle the axis of least inertia from motions that circle the axis of greatest. The coloured path is what the integration did: solid on the near hemisphere, dashed where it passes behind. It starts at the open dot and ends at the filled one.

Spaceflight

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.

$A spin about the middle axis of a 1:2:3 body, turning over every 2.9 turns. A body with principal moments of inertia 1, 2, 3, spun about its intermediate axis with a hundredth of its angular momentum knocked onto the axis of least inertia, integrated with no dissipation and no external torque. The curves are the components of the angular momentum along the three body axes, as fractions of its fixed size. The intermediate component stays near one for 1.5 spin periods, then swings through zero to minus one — the body turns over, end for end — and keeps doing so every 2.9 periods, 14 times in the span drawn. Energy and angular momentum are both conserved throughout, the energy to better than one part in a billion; nothing is being lost and nothing drives the flips. A spin about the intermediate axis is an equilibrium like a pencil balanced on its point, and the smallest disturbance grows exponentially, here by a factor of e every 0.28 spin periods, until it carries the body to the opposite equilibrium and back.$ Spaceflight

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.

How the scatter depends on how much dispersion is added to rotation. The scatter of the baryonic Tully–Fisher relation, in dex of mass, when the same 80 turbulent model discs are measured with S = √(K Vᵣₒₜ² + σ²), against the weight K given to the rotation, for rotation measured at 1 and 2.2 disc scale lengths. Measured at 1 scale length the scatter is smallest, 0.076 dex, at K = 0.55, and is 0.076 dex at K = 0.5; measured at 2.2 scale lengths the scatter is smallest, 0.077 dex, at K = 0.23, and is 0.134 dex at K = 0.5. For an exponential disc with constant dispersion the pressure correction is exactly K = one over twice the radius in scale lengths, so the best weight depends on where the rotation is measured. The widely used K = 0.5 is the value that makes a pure rotator and a pure isothermal sphere of the same mass agree; it is also the pressure correction for rotation measured at one scale length, and not at any other.

Galaxies

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.

$How fast the circulation a rotating star drives would stir it, against its lifetime. The classical Eddington–Sweet circulation time — the star's Kelvin–Helmholtz time divided by the ratio of centrifugal to gravitational acceleration at its surface — as a multiple of its main-sequence lifetime, against rotation rate as a fraction of critical, for stars of 2, 5, 15 solar masses, on logarithmic axes. Below the line at one, the circulation would turn the star over within its life. For 2 solar masses that happens above 0.101 of critical; for 5 solar masses that happens above 0.123 of critical; for 15 solar masses that happens above 0.115 of critical. The dot is the Sun, turning at 0.0084 of its critical rate, whose circulation would take 150 times its main-sequence life. By this estimate almost every star turning at more than a tenth of its critical rate should be stirred from core to surface; the measured surface compositions of such stars show that it is not, because the composition gradient left by core burning resists the circulation, and how strongly it resists is what the nitrogen at their surfaces measures.$ Starlight

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.

The same well after the primary has lost 45 per cent of its mass. Two effective potentials for one body: the solid curve before the primary loses mass and the faint one after, both at the same angular momentum, because a central force of any strength exerts no torque. The well shallows and its floor moves out from r = 1.00 to 1.82. The body's own level moves with it — from E = -0.420 to -0.127 — and the two horizontal lines are drawn where the radial action is conserved, which puts the turning points at 0.71–1.67 before and 1.30–3.03 after. The ratio between them is 2.3333 in both, so the orbit is the same shape at a larger size: everything about the body's path has scaled and its eccentricity of 0.4 has not moved. That is what a slow change leaves behind, and it is not what a sudden one leaves.

Orbits

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.

$Where titanium oxide comes apart, and what the pressure does to it. The fraction of titanium oxide dissociated into Ti + O, against temperature, for a gas of equal parts at 10, 300, 6000 N/m² of total pressure. The equilibrium is Saha's with a free atom in place of the free electron and the pair's reduced mass in place of the electron's — the two atoms' partial pressures multiplied together, divided by the molecule's, equal an equilibrium constant Kₚ(T) — which for equal abundances gives a dissociated fraction of √(Kₚ/(Kₚ+P)) exactly. A molecule is one particle becoming two, so pressure suppresses the reaction exactly as it suppresses ionisation — the half-dissociation point moves from 3145 K at 10 N/m² to 4164 K at 6000. The bond energy is 6.87 eV against hydrogen's ionisation potential of 13.6, which is why this happens at a third of the temperature. Rotational and vibrational partition functions are included, classically and harmonically; the atoms keep their ground-term weights.$ Starlight

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 one number a cloud cannot change by squeezing. The mass-to-flux ratio in units of its critical value, against column density, for clouds threaded by fields of 3, 10, 30, 100 microgauss. λ below one is subcritical, and the field alone holds the cloud up, and no amount of compression changes that, because squeezing raises the magnetic and the gravitational energy at the same rate and leaves their ratio exactly where it was. λ above one is supercritical and the field is irrelevant to whether the cloud collapses. Each line has slope exactly one because λ is proportional to the column density at fixed field, and each crosses the boundary at 3.9·10²⁰ cm⁻² for 3 µG, 1.3·10²¹ cm⁻² for 10 µG, 3.9·10²¹ cm⁻² for 30 µG, 1.3·10²² cm⁻² for 100 µG. The Jeans mass is a threshold a cloud can cross by contracting; this one is a label it is born with, and the only way past it is to let the field leak out.

Galaxies

Support that cannot be squeezed away

A cloud held up by pressure can always be defeated by compressing it, because gravity gains faster than heat does. A cloud held up by a magnetic field cannot — squeezing raises both energies at exactly the same rate, so the ratio a cloud is born with is the one it keeps, and the only way out is to let the field leak.

Turbulence stops being supersonic at 0.04 parsecs. The velocity dispersion of molecular gas against the size of the region it is measured over, from σ = 1 (R/pc)^0.5 km/s, with the isothermal sound speed of 10 K gas drawn flat beneath it. The two cross at 0.035 parsecs, which is solved for here rather than quoted: below that scale the motions are subsonic and the gas is supported by its own pressure, above it they are supersonic and nothing thermal is relevant. At ten parsecs the Mach number is 17 and at a hundredth of a parsec it is 0.53. The crossing is the scale at which turbulent support runs out, and it is within a factor of two of the size of the dense cores that actually form stars — which is either the most important coincidence in the subject or the reason cores are the size they are.

Galaxies

The support and the seed are the same motions

A molecular cloud's lines are ten times wider than its temperature allows, and the width grows with the size of the region measured. The motions that widen them hold the cloud up as a whole and make the dense lumps inside it — so the same turbulence that delays star formation is what decides where it happens.

The ceiling a measured response has to be read against. The fluid Love number of a layered body — the value it would have if its outer shell offered no resistance whatever — against the radius of its core, for cores 1×, 1.6×, 2.4×, 3.6× the density of the material outside. Every curve starts at 3/2, because a core of no size is a uniform body, and falls as the core grows: central condensation stiffens a fluid body without giving it any strength, since the tidal forcing is strongest out where there is then very little mass to move. A body 0.6 of the way core at 3.6× density has a fluid ceiling of 0.787. A measurement above the relevant curve is impossible for any interior of that layering; a measurement below it says only that something is resisting, and does not say what.

Gravitation

An ocean is detected and its depth is not

A tidal response thirty-six times too large for any solid body proves a moon has a liquid layer under its crust. It does not say how deep the liquid is, how thick the crust above it is, or what the core beneath it is made of — because the same one number is produced by a whole surface of interiors.

What Io dissipates depends on how fast the tide is applied. The dissipative part of the Love number, −Im k₂, against the period of the forcing, for Io at an interior viscosity of 1e+16 Pa s. Two rheologies are drawn: a Maxwell solid, a spring and a dashpot in series, and an Andrade solid, which adds the anelastic creep every real material shows in the laboratory and a Maxwell body does not, with an exponent of 0.3. They agree for tides slower than the Maxwell time of 1.9 days, where the body has time to flow and the transient is irrelevant. They part completely for faster ones: at the shortest period drawn the Andrade body dissipates 20 times what the Maxwell body does. A quality factor quoted without a period is half a number, and which half is missing depends on a rheology measured in a laboratory rather than derived.

Gravitation

A quality factor quoted without a period is half a number

The tidal response of a solid body is not a constant. It is a function of how fast the tide is applied, and two rheologies that agree perfectly about a slow tide disagree by orders of magnitude about a quick one — so the same moon has one Love number at its orbital period and a different one at the period of its own libration.

$A delay that counts the gas nothing can see. The mean dispersion measure of a radio pulse against the redshift it comes from, for several shares of the baryons residing in diffuse ionised gas between galaxies. A pulse is delayed by free electrons in proportion to the column it crosses, and that column is an integral over the expansion history of a density the baryon budget fixes — so the only unknown in the whole expression is the share itself. At z = 1 the relation gives 1085 pc cm⁻³ if every baryon is out there and 543 at 50 per cent. The measurement runs the other way: a burst with a known host redshift and a measured delay returns the fraction, and the answer came out consistent with nucleosynthesis. A pulse a millisecond long weighs the half of the ordinary matter that no survey could find, and it does so because the thing that delays it is the thing that does not shine.$ Cosmology

Half the ordinary matter was missing, and a millisecond found it

Nucleosynthesis fixes how many baryons there are to better than a per cent. Every survey of where they are came up about half short for two decades — and what closed the gap was the delay a radio pulse picks up crossing gas too thin and too hot for any telescope to have seen.

$A mass measured by the structure it prevents. The fractional suppression of the small-scale matter power spectrum against the sum of the neutrino masses. The relic density follows from the thermal history with no astrophysics in it — the neutrinos’ share of the critical density, times h², is the mass sum divided by 93.14 eV exactly — and the suppression is about eight times the neutrinos' share of the matter, because a particle moving at a large fraction of the speed of light streams out of an overdensity while it is still growing and takes its own gravity with it. The two mass orderings put a floor under the sum at 58 meV and 100 meV; the cosmological upper bound is near 0.12 eV, which is 7.2 per cent of suppression. The floor and the ceiling are within a factor of two of each other, so this is a measurement about to happen or a model about to break, and the quantity it returns is a sum rather than any individual mass.$ Cosmology

A mass measured by what it stopped from forming

Neutrinos were relativistic in the early universe and are not now, so they are the one entry in the cosmic budget that changes category. What cosmology measures is not their density but the hole they leave — they stream out of a growing clump and take their gravity with them, and the missing structure bounds a particle mass more tightly than any laboratory has.

$Structure stops forming above about 14 times the observed Λ. The fraction of matter that ever collapses into a bound object, against the cosmological constant in units of the observed one, holding the primordial fluctuation amplitude fixed. Growth of structure stops once Λ dominates the expansion, so the linear growth factor approaches a finite limit rather than rising for ever, and a larger Λ freezes it earlier and smaller. The asymptotic growth factor at the observed Λ is 1.110; at a hundredth of it, 5.152; at a hundred times, 0.239. The collapsed fraction falls from 0.86 to 0.40 to 0.000 across the same range, and passes a tenth of its present value at 14 times the observed constant. The observed value sits a factor of 14 below the largest one that leaves anything at all — which is the whole of the anthropic argument, and that factor is what has to be compared against the 10¹²⁰ by which the naive theoretical estimate misses.$ Cosmology

A coincidence that is a factor of fourteen

The cosmological constant is famously wrong by a hundred and twenty orders of magnitude, and famously coincidental in sitting near the matter density now. Computing how large it could be and still leave any structure at all turns the second complaint into a number — and the number is fourteen, not a hundred and twenty.

$The solid mass available, as a staircase of 5 fronts. The share of the condensable material that is solid, against distance from a 1 solar-mass star, on a logarithmic radius axis. Each riser is one species freezing out, at the radius where the disc's temperature — falling as the inverse square root of the distance — reaches that species' condensation point. silicates and iron at 1400 K and 0.04 AU; water ice at 170 K and 2.71 AU; carbon dioxide at 70 K and 16.00 AU; methane and ammonia at 30 K and 87.11 AU; carbon monoxide at 20 K and 196.00 AU. Inside every front the solid surface density is 22 per cent of what is available, which is the refractories alone; water alone contributes 53 per cent, more than twice everything else combined, which is why one of these steps is called the snow line and the others are not. A body's composition is decided by which pair of risers it formed between, and the steps are narrow because a vapour pressure is exponential in the inverse temperature.$ Exoplanets

There is not one line, there is a staircase

Water freezing is the biggest step in a protoplanetary disc and it is one of five. Each condensable species has its own temperature and therefore its own radius, and what a body is made of is decided not by which side of a line it formed on but by which pair of risers it formed between.

Exoplanets

A composition that dates a formation rather than placing it

The ice line in a young disc starts six astronomical units out and sweeps inward to under three as the disc drains. A body at four astronomical units therefore formed dry or wet depending only on when — so what it is made of is a clock, and reading it as a map is the mistake the moving line makes easy.

Exoplanets

Two elements in a ratio, and a birthplace read off it

Carbon and oxygen freeze out at different places, so the gas between the fronts is carbon-rich and the solids are oxygen-rich. A giant planet is made mostly of gas it accreted, so measuring the ratio in its atmosphere and inverting the staircase should give the radius it formed at — and the inversion turns out not to be unique.

$Below 1.3 km a shadow stops getting smaller. The relative rate at which a star is occulted, against the smallest body a survey can detect, for size distributions with slopes 3.5, 4, 4.5. The cross-section of a body is not its own diameter: diffraction gives every shadow a minimum width of about the Fresnel scale, √(λD/2), which at 40 AU and 550 nm is 1.28 km. Above that the cross-section grows with the body, so lowering the limit gains events as the limit to the power -1.5 for the shallowest distribution drawn; below it the cross-section stops shrinking and only the number of bodies keeps rising, which is a shallower gain by one power. Pushing the limit from 40 km to 0.2 multiplies the rate by 3106196 at the steepest slope and 14131 at the shallowest — so the rate a survey measures is a measurement of the size distribution, which is the quantity a collisional history predicts and nothing else can reach at these sizes.$ The observed sky

A population counted by shadows that never repeat

A body a kilometre across at forty astronomical units is a hundred million times too faint to image and casts a shadow just as dark as a large one. Monitoring enough stars fast enough catches those shadows — each one a single unrepeatable event of a fraction of a second, and the measurement is not any event but the rate.

$The drag coefficient of a sphere runs from 2.03 to 2.79, and 2.2 is a convention. The free-molecular drag coefficient of a sphere against the accommodation coefficient — the fraction of striking molecules that thermalise with the surface and leave in a cosine distribution rather than bouncing — at speed ratios 2, 4, 8, with the surface at 0.3 times the flow's temperature. Specular reflection gives 2.469 at the lowest speed ratio drawn and 2.001 in the hypersonic limit, where every molecule delivers exactly twice its own momentum. Accommodation adds the re-emitted flux, which leaves at the wall temperature in a direction the flow did not choose, and it adds most where the speed ratio is smallest — which is high up, where the light species dominate. The conventional 2.2 lies outside this family at both ends: at s = 8 a sphere reaches only 2.112 even at full accommodation, and at s = 2 it is already 2.469 with none. That is not a defect of the arithmetic — 2.2 is a fitted average for satellite shapes, whose flat panels have a higher coefficient than a sphere of the same projected area, and the sphere is drawn because it is the one geometry with a closed form. What survives the shape is the dependence: a satellite's drag coefficient is an assumption about its surface chemistry and its attitude, and every density inferred from drag carries it in inverse proportion.$ Spaceflight

A coefficient that belongs to the surface, not the satellite

Every density ever inferred from satellite drag was divided by a drag coefficient, and that coefficient is not a property of the spacecraft. It is a property of what happens when an oxygen atom at eight kilometres a second strikes a surface it has already coated — and the conventional 2.2 is a convention.

A corridor 0.2 km wide, and a density known to a factor of 2. The apoapsis a vehicle is left on after a single atmospheric pass, against the periapsis altitude it aimed at, for ballistic coefficients of 60, 130, 300 kg/m² arriving at 3 km/s. The energy removed is the density at periapsis times an effective path length of √(2πrₚH), divided by the ballistic coefficient — so it falls exponentially with altitude and the curve is steep. Hitting a 1000 km apoapsis to ±10 per cent requires a periapsis inside 0.2 kilometres. Getting the atmosphere wrong by a factor of 2 moves the aim point by 7.6 kilometres, which is 30.7 times the corridor's own width — so a ballistic vehicle aiming at a planet whose density is known to a factor of two misses by more than the tolerance allows, and the manoeuvre has to be flown rather than aimed.

Spaceflight

A manoeuvre that has never been flown once

Arrive on a hyperbola, dip once through the atmosphere, leave on a bound orbit having spent no propellant. The saving is a kilometre a second or more, the physics is the same as an entry corridor, and nobody has done it — because the corridor is a tenth of a kilometre wide and the density is known to a factor of two.

Cosmology

The darkness has a number in it

The night sky is not black. It carries about sixty nanowatts per square metre per steradian, and that number is the sum of every photon every star has ever emitted, redshifted and added up over thirteen billion years.

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.

Cosmology

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.

Galaxies

Two counts that are not the same shape

Dark matter halos are counted by a calculation that knows nothing about stars. Galaxies are counted by a survey. Laid on the same axes the two curves disagree at both ends and agree nowhere, and the knee is where the two disagreements hand over.

$Five zones, one angle. The Sun's highest and lowest noon altitude against latitude, for an obliquity of 23.4393°. The upper curve is noon on the summer solstice and the lower is noon on the winter one; they are the same function of latitude displaced by 23.4393° in each direction, which is why one angle fixes both boundaries. Where the upper curve reaches 90° is the tropic, at 23.44° — the Sun is overhead at noon there on exactly one day, and somewhere inside it on every other day of the year. Where the lower curve reaches 0° is the polar circle, at 66.56° — the Sun fails to clear the horizon on the winter solstice, and on more days the further poleward one goes. They are the same inequality: |φ| ≤ ε for the first and |φ| ≥ 90° − ε for the second, and an obliquity of zero would collapse the tropics to the equator and push the polar circles to the poles, leaving one zone. The areas are the part that is not intuitive. The fraction of a sphere between two latitudes is the difference of their sines, so the tropics — a band a quarter of the way to the pole — hold 39.8 per cent of the Earth's surface, the temperate zones 52.0 per cent, and the polar caps only 8.3. The zone where the Sun can be overhead is 4.8 times the area of the zone where it can fail to rise, and both boundaries are the same 23.44°.$ The observed sky

Five zones, and one angle

The tropics are where the Sun can stand overhead; the polar circles are where it can fail to rise. Both boundaries are 23.44° measured from opposite ends, and the zone the Sun can reach is nearly five times the area of the zone it can miss.

The sunniest place on Earth is the summer pole. Daily-mean insolation against latitude, on the June solstice, an equinox, the December solstice, computed from Q = (S₀/π)(ā/r)²[H₀ sin φ sin δ + cos φ cos δ sin H₀] with the half-day angle clipped to a whole day inside the polar circle. On the June solstice the north pole receives 524 W/m² and the equator receives 385 — a third more, at a place where the Sun never climbs above 23.4°. Both halves of the product move: the Sun is low, so each square metre catches little; and it never sets, so the catching goes on for twenty-four hours. The second wins. That is why the daily total and the noon altitude disagree about where summer is strongest, and the daily total is the one an ice sheet answers to. The two hemispheres are not equal either. The Earth is nearest the Sun in early January, so the December solstice delivers 559 W/m² to the south pole against the north pole's 524 in June — 6.7 per cent more. What this cannot show is any temperature. Antarctica is the coldest place on Earth and receives the most sunlight of anywhere on any day; between the insolation and the temperature sit an albedo, an altitude and an ocean.

The observed sky

The sunniest place is the summer pole

On the June solstice the north pole receives 524 watts per square metre averaged over the day, and the equator 385. The Sun there never climbs above 23.4° and never sets, and the second wins.

The observed sky

The hottest month is not the sunniest

A surface with a heat capacity answers a sinusoid late and small, and the two are the same number. The lag can never reach a quarter of a cycle — three months for a year, six hours for a day — because an arctangent cannot reach ninety degrees.

$There is a best exhaust speed, and the calendar picks it. Payload fraction against exhaust speed for a 11 km/s mission, at three thrusting durations, with a power plant of 0.025 kilograms per watt of jet power. The vehicle is payload plus power plant plus propellant and the arithmetic is one line: λ = e^(−Δv/c) − (αc²/2t)(1 − e^(−Δv/c)), the first term the rocket equation and the second the mass of the machine that makes the jet. They pull opposite ways. A slow exhaust burns propellant; a fast one needs power, and the power per newton rises in proportion to c, so the plant's mass rises as c². Neither end is where anybody builds, and the optimum is 3,211 s over 200 days, 6,523 s over 700 days, 11,424 s over 2000 days — the same mission, the same Δv, and the best engine for it changes by a factor of 3.6 depending only on how long there is to do it. A gridded ion engine at 3,100 seconds sits at 30.4 km/s, which suits the shortest of these and is slow for the longest. What the curve cannot show is that α is not a constant either: a solar array's mass per watt falls as the fourth power of the distance from the Sun, so the same vehicle is a different point on this plot at Mars and at Jupiter.$ Spaceflight

The engine is chosen by the calendar

A chemical stage's exhaust speed is fixed by chemistry. An electric one's is a dial, and turning it up costs power — so there is a best setting, and it is decided by how long the mission has rather than by how far it is going.

1020 clusters or 372, and the survey cannot say which parameter moved. The number of clusters per unit redshift a survey finds above an integrated Compton signal of 8·10⁻⁵ arcmin² over 6 per cent of the sky, computed from the Sheth–Tormen halo count grown by the linear growth factor, the comoving volume in each redshift slice, and the calibrated relation between signal and mass. Each curve is one pair of assumptions: the amplitude of structure, σ₈, and the hydrostatic mass bias, 1 − b, which says how far the X-ray masses the relation was calibrated on fall below the true masses. With σ₈ = 0.811 and 1 − b = 0.8 the survey finds 1020; σ₈ = 0.811 with 1 − b = 0.6 gives 372; σ₈ = 0.75 with 1 − b = 0.8 gives 548. The counts fall at low redshift because there is little volume, and at high redshift because massive halos have not yet formed, and the peak sits near z = 0.24. Lowering 1 − b pushes the threshold onto more massive and rarer halos; lowering σ₈ makes every halo rarer. The two lower curves differ in total by 47 per cent and in normalised shape by at most 2 per cent of the peak. A survey that assumed 1 − b = 0.8 would read the 372 clusters of the curve with 1 − b = 0.6 as σ₈ = 0.716, with a redshift distribution that differs from it by at most 12 per cent of the peak — which is the only handle the survey has on the difference, and it is smaller than the counting noise in any redshift bin holding fewer than about 67 clusters. A total count cannot distinguish a universe with less structure from a survey that has misjudged its masses, and it is that degeneracy, not the counting, that has been argued about since the first large catalogue.

Cosmology

Too few clusters, or a scale that reads light

A catalogue selected on the microwave shadow is, past redshift one half, very nearly a catalogue of everything above a fixed mass — so its count by redshift is the growth of structure read almost directly. Almost, because the mass behind the threshold comes from a calibration, and a scale that reads twenty per cent light is indistinguishable from a universe with less in it.

Exoplanets

A thermostat that only halves the error

The carbonate–silicate cycle is credited with keeping a planet's water liquid across the whole width of its habitable zone. Written down with its own measured exponents, it is a proportional controller that cancels about three-fifths of a change in sunlight, takes half a million years to do it — and reaches the published outer edge only on a planet with an order of magnitude more volcanism than the Earth.

Exoplanets

Steam before the zone existed

The smallest stars take hundreds of millions of years to contract onto the main sequence, shining at many times the luminosity they will settle at. A planet in the habitable zone such a star will eventually have spends that time with its ocean in the air as steam, while starlight splits the water and the hydrogen leaves — so the zone of the commonest star in the galaxy is a place that had to survive being too hot first.

Galaxies

The metals a galaxy keeps measure what it threw away

Small star-forming galaxies are metal-poor and large ones are not, in a relation tight enough to be a law. Read as an equilibrium between inflow, star formation and wind, its slope says how the wind is driven, its turnover says where galaxies stop losing what they make — and its redshift evolution says galaxies were poorer because they were still being filled.

A right angle short by 0.147°, and a ratio of 389 hanging on it. The ratio of the Sun's distance to the Moon's implied by the angle between them at the moment the Moon is exactly half lit, on a logarithmic scale, for angles from 80° to 89.95°. At that moment the angle at the Moon between the directions to the Sun and the Earth is a right angle, so the ratio is the secant of the observed angle — a construction with no distance in it, the same right triangle that gives an inferior planet's orbit from its greatest elongation. Aristarchus measured 87°, which gives 19.1. The mean distances give 389, which corresponds to 89.853°. The curve's steepness is the whole story: across a tenth of a degree centred on each marked angle the ratio changes by 3.4 per cent at 87°, 10.5 per cent at 89° and 103 per cent at the true angle. The method was exact and it asked for a right angle measured to a hundredth of a degree, at an instant the eye can judge only to within hours, on a terminator that is never quite straight.

The observed sky

A right angle short by a seventh of a degree

When the Moon is exactly half lit, the angle at the Moon between the Sun and the Earth is a right angle, so the angle seen from the Earth gives the Sun's distance in units of the Moon's. Aristarchus measured 87° and concluded the Sun was nineteen times further away. The construction was exact; the angle he needed was 89.85°, and at that angle a tenth of a degree is the whole answer.

At the Sun–Earth L₂ the cheapest correction is every 23 days, and it costs e σ per e-folding. The annual station-keeping cost at the Sun–Earth L₂ point, against the interval between corrections, on logarithmic axes, for velocity errors of 0.5 cm/s, 2.0 cm/s, 5.0 cm/s along the unstable direction at each correction. Correcting often costs a lot because every correction carries its own error σ; correcting rarely costs a lot because the error has grown by e^(T/τ) in between, with an e-folding time τ = 23.4 days set by the point's growth rate of 2.484 times the orbital mean motion. The product (365.25/T) σ e^(T/τ) has its minimum at exactly T = τ, where the annual cost is 365.25 e σ/τ: 0.21 m/s a year for σ = 0.5 cm/s, 0.85 m/s a year for σ = 2.0 cm/s, 2.12 m/s a year for σ = 5.0 cm/s. The minimum is broad, so an operator can correct at a convenient interval near the e-folding time for little penalty, and the cost scales linearly with how well the spacecraft's velocity is known and executed. This is a one-dimensional caricature: a real halo orbit's correction also removes a stable component it need not, and solar radiation pressure on a large sunshield is a steady error source of its own. The figure's claim is the structure — an unstable equilibrium is cheap to hold if the instability is caught while it is still small, and its cost is a navigation budget rather than a force budget.

Spaceflight

An unstable point that costs less to hold than a stable orbit

A spacecraft at the Sun–Earth L₂ point sits on an equilibrium that throws it away, doubling any error every sixteen days. It holds station for a few metres per second a year — a twentieth of what a geostationary satellite pays to stay on an orbit that is stable. The difference is what is being paid for — an instability caught small costs a navigation budget, and a steady torque costs a force budget.

A wall at 2.33 hours that bends into a slope below 598 metres. The fastest rotation period a body of bulk density 2 g/cm³ can hold against its own spin, against its diameter, on logarithmic axes, for cohesive strengths of 0, 10, 100, 1000 pascals. With no cohesion the limit is the density-only barrier √(3π/Gρ) = 2.33 hours at every size. A cohesion C adds a stress that does not depend on size to a gravitational stress that goes as the square of the radius, so small bodies are held mostly by cohesion and can spin faster in proportion to their smallness: below the corner the limiting period goes as the diameter. The corner is where the two stresses are equal, at a diameter of 189 m for 10 Pa, 598 m for 100 Pa, 1.9 km for 1000 Pa. The scaling is the strength-regime form with a single coefficient of order one; detailed limits depend on the angle of friction and the shape. What the figure makes plain is why the observed spin barrier is sharp for kilometre-sized asteroids and fades below a few hundred metres, and why a handful of fast rotators a few hundred metres across can be rubble piles with a few tens of pascals of cohesion — a strength far below that of any rock — rather than monoliths.

Orbits

A spin barrier with a corner in it

A rubble pile cannot spin faster than a period set by its density alone — 2.3 hours for most asteroids — at any size. Give it a cohesion of a few tens of pascals, weaker than any rock, and the barrier bends into a slope below a corner at a few hundred metres. The thermal torque that drives bodies to the barrier doubles their spin in a time that grows as the square of their size, so the bodies it pushes hardest are the ones that can go past.

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