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.

$The damping tail measures a thickness: ℓ_D = 1400 for a shell 80 deep in redshift. The suppression of small-scale structure in the microwave background, against multipole, on logarithmic axes. Every other feature of the power spectrum measures the last-scattering surface as a surface — its distance, the sound horizon written on it, the ruler it provides. This one measures how thick it is. Recombination takes time: the ionised fraction falls over a range of redshift rather than all at once, and while it is falling the photons are still scattering, so each one random-walks. A photon taking N steps of a mean free path λ diffuses √N λ, which is much further than a single step and much less than the whole interval, and any temperature fluctuation smaller than that distance is mixed away before it can be frozen in. What is left is a Gaussian cut-off, drawn here for three shell thicknesses. A thicker shell means more steps and a longer walk, so it damps at a smaller multipole: Δz = 40 gives ℓ_D = 1980, Δz = 80 gives ℓ_D = 1400, Δz = 160 gives ℓ_D = 990. The observed cut-off is near ℓ = 1400, corresponding to a diffusion length of about 0.03 proper megaparsecs at the time — a scale the reader should compare with the sound horizon, some hundred and fifty comoving megaparsecs, which is what the peaks measure. The tail is therefore a genuine probe of the inside of the transition rather than of its position, and because the damping depends on the free-electron density it is also one of the cleanest constraints on anything that changes it: extra relativistic species, a varying fine-structure constant, or an early energy injection all move ℓ_D while leaving the peak positions nearly alone. The normalisation here is set once by the observed value, so what the figure claims is the scaling with thickness and the shape of the cut-off, not the absolute number.$ 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 that leans on no other distance measurement.

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 calibrating samples 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.

A hole's shadow at 17° to its spin axis. The critical curve — the outline of a black hole's shadow on a distant observer's sky — for spins from 0 to 0.998, seen 17 degrees from the spin axis, in gravitational radii. Every curve is the projection of the unstable spherical photon orbits, and nothing about an accretion flow enters it. The sizes are 5.20, 5.12, 4.92, 4.84: a spread of 6.9 per cent across the entire range of spin, which is what makes an image of one of these a mass measurement with almost no model in it. What spin does instead is push the curve sideways and flatten one edge — the fast hole's outline sits 0.70 gravitational radii off centre, because photons co-rotating with the hole are dragged round and escape from closer in than counter-rotating ones can. That displacement is the spin signal, and it is measured against a centre nothing else marks.

Gravitation

A ring whose size is almost only a mass

The dark patch at the centre of an image of a black hole is the projection of the orbits light cannot escape from, and its size changes by seven per cent across the whole range of spin and inclination. That insensitivity is what makes an image a mass measurement with almost no model in it — and what leaves the spin in the part of the picture that barely moves.

The ratio that is √2 only for a point. Escape speed divided by circular speed, against distance in units of the Sun's, for a point mass and for flat-rotation-curve haloes truncated at four different radii. The point-mass value is √2 at every distance and it is a floor rather than a rule. Mass outside an orbit contributes nothing to the circular speed — a spherical shell exerts no force inside itself — and everything to the depth of the well, so any extended distribution has a ratio above √2, by an amount that measures how much lies beyond. For a flat rotation curve the escape speed is not even defined without an outer edge: the potential grows as the logarithm of radius and diverges, so the ratio is √(2 ln(R/r)) with R the truncation radius, and the answer depends on a boundary nobody can see. The measured value near the Sun is about 2.27, which on this curve puts the edge at 13 times the Sun's distance — and the strength of that inference is exactly the weakness of the method, because a ratio of 2.50 would put it at 23.

Spaceflight

The ratio that is not √2

Escape speed is exactly √2 times circular speed at every distance from a point mass, and the Sun's own escape speed from the Galaxy is 2.3 times its orbital speed. The excess is not an error in either number. It is a measurement of the mass that lies outside the Sun's orbit, which pulls on nothing and holds everything.

What is left at infinity, and what it costs from 200 km. The velocity change needed to leave Earth from a circular orbit 200 kilometres up, against the speed the vehicle still has when the pull has run out. Escaping with nothing left over costs 3.22 km/s. Arriving at infinity with three kilometres a second in hand costs 3.63 — an extra 0.40 km/s to buy three, a discount of 87 per cent, because the two speeds do not add and their squares do — the departure speed is √(2μ/r + v∞²) — and adding a small square to a large one barely moves the root. The curve is therefore almost flat where the planetary missions are and straightens to slope 0.79 at the right-hand edge, where v∞ has overtaken escape speed and each metre a second bought costs a metre a second spent. The practical reading is that the expensive part of an interplanetary departure is getting to escape, and the destination is a surcharge on it.

Spaceflight

The speed that is left over

No mission is designed to sit on the escape threshold. What an interplanetary departure is specified by is the speed still remaining when the planet's pull has run out — and because energies add while speeds do not, the first three kilometres a second of it cost four hundred metres a second to buy.

$The sign of one gradient decides which way the disc is shaded. The emergent intensity across a stellar disc, against the fractional radius, for four gradients of the source function with depth. Every curve is the Eddington–Barbier relation evaluated at the appropriate μ and checked against a numerical integration of the transfer equation. The contrast between centre and limb is the gradient, and its sign is the gradient's sign. A source function rising inward — the ordinary case, since temperature rises inward and the source function follows it — darkens the limb: a sight line at the edge leaves from higher up, where the gas is cooler. A flat source function produces a uniformly bright disc whatever the geometry. And a source function that falls inward brightens the limb, because now the shallower ray is reading a hotter layer. That last case is not hypothetical: above a star's photosphere the temperature stops falling and begins to rise, so at wavelengths that see those layers — millimetre continuum, the cores of strong lines, the ultraviolet — the Sun's limb is brighter than its centre. Limb darkening is therefore not a property of stars but of a gradient, and the same atmosphere shows both signs at different wavelengths.$ Starlight

A limb brighter than the middle

Limb darkening is not a property of stars. It is a property of a gradient, and the same relation that produces it produces the opposite whenever the source function falls inward — which it does above every stellar photosphere. The Sun's limb is darker in the visible and brighter at a millimetre, and both are the same equation.

$Two ways to stop, and the same curve shifted. The fraction of galaxies that have stopped forming stars, against their stellar mass, at four local densities. Two things are happening at once. Mass quenching turns the curve upward above about 10^10.6 solar masses, and it does so at the same mass whatever the environment — the curves rise in step. Environment quenching lifts the whole curve, and it does so by the same fraction of what is left at every mass, which is why the four curves look like one curve with its floor raised rather than like four different shapes. At 10⁹·⁵ solar masses the red fraction runs from 13 per cent in the field to 97 in a cluster core, and almost all of that difference is environmental; at 10¹¹·⁵ almost everything is red everywhere and the environment has nothing left to do. The two mechanisms are separable, which is the census's central quantitative result and the thing any account of either one has to explain.$ Galaxies

Two ways to stop that do not interact

A galaxy's chance of having stopped forming stars depends on its mass and on where it is, and the census says the two dependences multiply. The efficiency with which environment quenches a galaxy is the same number at every mass, across two and a half decades of it — which is surprising, because both mechanisms work on the same gas.

A cycle and a radiation, racing for the same pericentre. Two integrations of the same compact triple, in units of the cycle's own timescale at the starting separation. The dashed curves are the semi-major axis and the solid ones the eccentricity. Radiation alone shrinks the orbit slowly and smoothly, reaching a tenth of its starting size after 1136 cycle times — which the closed form for a circular inspiral predicts to within a few per cent, and which is the check that the integrator is right. With the cycle running, the distant companion drives the eccentricity to 0.9104, the pericentre falls by two orders of magnitude, and the radiation — whose rate goes as the inverse seventh power of one minus the square of the eccentricity — empties the orbit in 18. That is a factor of 62, obtained without changing a single parameter of either mechanism. The two do not merely add: the cycle manufactures, at its own peak, exactly the configuration in which the radiation is most efficient, and the radiation then shrinks the orbit until the relativistic precession switches the cycle off.

Orbits

A cycle that builds what the wave needs

Gravitational radiation empties an orbit at a rate that goes as the inverse seventh power of one minus the square of the eccentricity. A distant companion drives exactly that eccentricity, over and over. The two are not independent mechanisms that happen to act on the same binary — the first manufactures, at its own peak, the configuration the second is most efficient in.

Cosmology

A blur undone with the field that made it

The acoustic feature is smeared by the same bulk flows whose displacements can be estimated from the density they produced. Moving every galaxy back along that estimate sharpens the peak and removes most of its second-order shift — and what limits the procedure is not the idea but how well a field can be measured from the objects it moved.

Cosmology

A ruler read in absorption

Beyond the reach of any galaxy survey the only tracer left is the hydrogen between here and a quasar, sampled finely along each sightline and coarsely across the sky. That inverts the balance every galaxy measurement is built on — the forest measures an expansion rate better than a distance, which is the harder of the two to get any other way.

A spin that prefers the axis in the middle. Where the spin of a tidally torqued patch points, measured against the three principal axes of the tidal field acting on it: the distribution of the absolute cosine between the spin and each axis, from 20,000 patches with random shapes in one field of principal values −0.75, 0.09, 0.66. Principal values are those of the second derivative of the potential, so a positive one compresses. An isotropic spin would give three flat lines at one. The spin avoids the most compressive and the most stretching axes and prefers the intermediate one, because the torque about each axis is proportional to the difference of the field's principal values about the other two, and the intermediate axis is the one whose two neighbours differ most: squared, those weights are 0.11, 0.66, 0.24 of the total. Fitted as Lee and Pen's alignment parameter, the directions give a = 0.617. The preference is real and it is weak — the densest bin is 3.37 times the isotropic value — which is the whole difficulty of using spins to map a field.

Cosmology

A spin that remembers the field and not its sign

Tidal torque theory says where a galaxy's spin should point, not only how large it should be. It points along the middle axis of the tidal field, it is exactly perpendicular to an ideal filament, and it is an even function of the field — so a map of spins can find the directions of the cosmic web and can never say which of them is collapsing.

$An exposure time chosen by the star. The fraction of a star's p-mode velocity signal that survives averaging over an exposure of the length on the horizontal axis, for an envelope of modes centred on νₘₐₓ with the stated width. The dashed curve is a single oscillation at νₘₐₓ = 3.1 mHz, a period of 5.4 minutes: it averages to exactly zero after one period and at every multiple. The solid curve is the real case, a band of modes 1.2 mHz wide, which cannot all be nulled at once: its first minimum is at 5.8 minutes, where 15% of the rms survives, and beyond it the residual falls only as one over the exposure time. Short exposures on bright stars sample the oscillations rather than averaging them, which is why a bright star observed quickly can be noisier than a faint one observed slowly.$ Exoplanets

An exposure time chosen by the star

A Sun-like star's surface rings at five minutes and boils on timescales from ten minutes to a day, and each of those motions shifts its spectral lines by more than the nine centimetres a second an Earth would. The ringing can be averaged away by an exposure tuned to the star; the slowest boiling cannot be averaged away within a night at all, and it sets the number of nights an Earth twin costs.

The same disc measured smaller at every redshift. The isophotal radius, at a limit of 26.5 magnitudes per square arcsecond, of three exponential discs that do not change at all — central surface brightnesses 20.5, 21.65, 23, the same scale length throughout — against the redshift they are placed at. Surface brightness falls as (1+z)⁴, three magnitudes at z = 1 and six at z = 3, before anything about the galaxy evolves or any band shift is accounted for, so every isophote moves inward. The discs vanish from an isophotal catalogue entirely at z = 2.98, 2.05, 1.24. The dashed line is the half-light radius, 1.68 scale lengths, which is defined by the galaxy's own light and does not move. Galaxies at high redshift are genuinely smaller than their present-day counterparts; how much smaller depends on which of these two kinds of radius is quoted, and the isophotal kind would report a shrinkage for galaxies that have none.

Galaxies

A radius that is a measurement of the threshold

A galaxy has no edge. Its light fades exponentially for as far as anyone can measure, so every size ever quoted for one is the radius at which the fading crossed some line that somebody drew. Drawn at a fixed surface brightness, the line measures how bright the galaxy's centre is as much as how big the galaxy is — and at high redshift it measures the expansion of the universe as well.

Galaxies

The halo a galaxy drags inward

The cusp that dark-matter simulations predict is a halo with no galaxy in it. When gas cools and settles into a disc at the centre, the dark matter is pulled in after it, and a quantity conserved on slowly changing orbits says by how much. In a large disc galaxy the pull triples the dark matter at the centre and multiplies tenfold the energy needed to dig a core; in a dwarf it barely registers.

A doubling rule, and the planet that broke it. Each planet's real semi-major axis against the value the Titius–Bode rule 0.4 + 0.3 × 2ⁿ gives it, both in astronomical units on logarithmic axes; points on the diagonal are fitted exactly. The rule gives the Earth 1.0 by construction and fits Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn within a few per cent. It needed the value n = 3 left empty until Ceres was found in its slot in 1801, and it predicted Uranus, discovered in 1781, within 2%. Neptune, discovered in 1846 by a calculation that assumed the rule, sits 22% inside its predicted place, and Pluto occupies the place Neptune should have had. Mercury is given n = −∞, which is a free choice made to fit it. The labels give each body's departure from the rule.

Orbits

A spacing law that random orbits obey

The planets' distances roughly double from one to the next, and a rule written down in 1766 predicted the asteroid belt and Uranus before either was found. It failed on Neptune, and the reason it worked at all turns out to be that almost any set of orbits forbidden to crowd each other looks geometric on a logarithmic scale — as a test against thousands of random systems shows.

The weakest bodies are a few hundred metres across. The energy per unit mass needed to shatter a body and disperse half of it, against the body's diameter, for basalt and water ice, from fits to impact simulations calibrated on laboratory fragmentation. Small bodies are held together by material strength, which falls with size because a larger body contains larger flaws; large bodies are held together by their own gravity, which rises with size because the fragments have to be thrown apart as well as broken. The two regimes meet in a minimum at 235 m for basalt and 204 m for water ice, where a body needs the least energy per kilogram to destroy of any size — 127 J/kg and 57 J/kg, the kinetic energy per kilogram of motion at only 16 and 11 metres a second. A collisional population is therefore not self-similar: it has a preferred size, and its size distribution records it.

Orbits

The size at which a body is easiest to break

A pebble is held together by the strength of its rock and a moon by its own gravity, and somewhere between them is a size that has too little of either. Bodies a few hundred metres across are the weakest in the solar system — sixteen metres a second of impact energy per kilogram is enough to scatter one — and a population grinding itself down records that weakness as a knee in its size distribution.

Rays that follow the curve of the Earth. Rays of light leaving an observer five metres above a cold surface at elevations between −0.2° and +0.45°, traced through an atmosphere whose lowest 150 metres warm upwards by 0.15 K per metre, drawn as height above the ground against distance along it — so the Earth's curvature has been removed and a ray that follows the curve runs flat. Rays that start downwards or only slightly upwards are bent back by the inversion before they can leave it, glance off the surface, and are guided along the layer in shallow hops: 5 of the 8 traced remain inside it for the whole 300 km. Only the steeper rays escape upwards. Traced backwards, the trapped rays are lines of sight: an observer inside the duct sees objects hundreds of kilometres away that lie far below the geometric horizon, lifted into view.

The observed sky

An atmosphere that bends light round the Earth

A horizontal ray of light curves towards denser air, and in an ordinary atmosphere it curves at a fifth of the rate the ground falls away. Put eleven degrees of warmer air above every hundred metres of cold air over sea ice and the ray curves as fast as the Earth does. It follows the curve, and a Sun five degrees below the horizon rises two weeks early.

The observed sky

The sky crowded forward by the observer's speed

Annual aberration is the first-order term of a law that has no higher terms Bradley could have seen. Written exactly, it maps the whole sky onto itself, crowding every star towards the direction of motion — by half a milliarcsecond at the Earth's speed, which a modern astrometric catalogue must carry, and at half the speed of light by enough to put three-quarters of the stars in the forward half of the sky.

$How steady each kind of clock is, by how long it is averaged. The Allan deviation — the typical fractional difference in frequency between successive averages of length τ — against τ, for representative noise models of caesium beam, hydrogen maser, caesium fountain, optical lattice clock. Each falls as τ^−½ while random frequency noise dominates, then levels off at a floor set by slower, correlated noise, and a clock with a systematic drift eventually rises again. A caesium beam is still improving at the longest averaging drawn, reaching 10⁻¹⁴; a hydrogen maser reaches its best, 7.3·10⁻¹⁶, after about 27 hours; a caesium fountain is still improving at the longest averaging drawn, reaching 1.2·10⁻¹⁶; an optical lattice clock is still improving at the longest averaging drawn, reaching 10⁻¹⁸. No clock is best at every averaging time — the maser is steadiest over hours and wanders over weeks, the fountain is noisier over minutes and more accurate over months — and a time scale is built by using each where it is best. The curves are typical shapes, not the specification of any particular instrument.$ The observed sky

A time scale that is finished after it is used

The world's reference time is not kept by any clock. It is an average of about four hundred and fifty, weighted by how steady each has been, published a month late, and then recomputed a year later against the handful of clocks that define the second — so the best available time for any moment is known only long after the moment has passed. The best clocks are now so good that averaging them requires knowing each one's height to a centimetre.

The weak spot in the field. Contours of the strength of the Earth's magnetic field at the surface, in microtesla, over longitude and latitude, from an eccentric dipole: a dipole tilted to pass through the geomagnetic poles and displaced about 570 km from the Earth's centre towards the western Pacific. The field is strongest near the poles and weakest near the equator, as any dipole's is, but the displacement makes the side of the Earth furthest from the dipole's centre weaker still: the minimum, 22.9 µT, lies at 8° S, 40° W, over the South Atlantic. The measured anomaly sits further south and west, near 26° S and 55° W, and is slightly deeper, because the real field has higher harmonics that no dipole carries; the eccentric dipole gets the side of the planet and the size right and the exact place approximately. Trapped particles mirror where the field reaches a fixed strength, so wherever the field is weak they mirror closer to the ground — and over this region the inner belt reaches down into the upper atmosphere.

Spaceflight

A belt emptied over one ocean

The Earth's magnetic field is not centred on the Earth. Its dipole sits five or six hundred kilometres towards the western Pacific, so the opposite side of the planet — the South Atlantic — has the weakest field at any altitude, and a trapped particle that mirrors safely above the atmosphere everywhere else dips into it there. The inner edge of the inner radiation belt is drawn by that one region, and it is moving.

$The most pressure a core can supply, and what its envelope asks for. The pressure at the boundary of a star's isothermal core, on a logarithmic scale, against the fraction of the star's mass the core holds. The coloured curves are the most pressure a core of that mass can supply at its edge — the maximum of the isothermal sphere, 1.40 c⁸/(G³M²) for a core of mass M — for cores of mean molecular weight 0.6, 1.0, 4/3; the flat grey line is the pressure the envelope, of molecular weight 0.6, exerts on the core at the same temperature. The core's ceiling falls as the square of its mass, and it can hold the envelope up only while it lies above the line. The curves cross it at core fractions of 0.370, 0.133, 0.075: a core of the same molecular weight as its envelope could hold 37 per cent of the star, and a fully ionised helium core, μ = 4/3, under this envelope only 7.5 per cent. The limit exists because the core is heavier per particle than the gas it has to hold up.$ Stars

A core too heavy for the gas around it

When a star's centre runs out of hydrogen, the helium left behind stops making energy, settles to one temperature, and becomes the one member of the polytrope family with no surface of its own. It can hold up the envelope around it only while it is less than about a tenth of the star. Past that there is no balance to be had, and the star crosses to the giant branch in a few per cent of its lifetime — which is why that part of the diagram is empty.

Stars

A survival that depends on the energy

A low-energy neutrino from the Sun reaches the Earth still an electron neutrino about half the time, and a high-energy one about a third of the time. The difference is made by the Sun's own electrons, and the energy at which it switches over — near two million electronvolts — sits in the gap between the neutrinos that never meet a resonance and the ones that all do.

A thousand times the supply, and eight times the light. The luminosity of an accretion disc, in units of its Eddington luminosity, against the rate at which gas is supplied to it, in units of the rate that would make a thin disc shine at exactly that limit — both on logarithmic axes. Below the limit the luminosity is proportional to the supply, the dashed line, with a tenth of the rest-mass energy radiated. Above it the disc cannot radiate the excess: the luminosity grows only as 1 + ln ṁ, so ten times the supply gives 3.3 times the limit, a hundred times gives 5.6, and a thousand times gives 7.9. The limit is a ceiling that bends rather than breaks — and whatever the supply is doing above it, the light does not say, because the same curve follows whether the surplus is blown away in a wind or carried into the hole.

Stars

A ceiling on the light and not on the mass

Pour gas onto a black hole a thousand times faster than the Eddington rate and it shines at only about eight times its limit. The rest of the energy is either blown away or swallowed, and those two fates give the same luminosity while differing by a factor of the supply in how fast the object grows — so the light a super-Eddington source emits cannot say which one it is.

Starlight

A rate the wind has no choice about

A hot star's wind is driven by starlight caught in hundreds of thousands of spectral lines, and the way those lines are distributed in strength fixes everything else. The mass-loss rate turns out not to be a free parameter at all but the one value for which a smooth flow can leave the surface — and multiplying it by the wind's speed and the square root of the star's radius cancels the star's mass, leaving a relation with the luminosity alone.

The power a source loses to its own photons, against how bright it is. The ratio of the power a synchrotron source loses by inverse-Compton scattering of its own photons to the power it radiates as synchrotron emission, against its brightness temperature, both on logarithmic axes. To first order the ratio goes as the fifth power of the brightness temperature over 10¹² K — so at 10¹¹ K it is 10⁻⁵, negligible, and at 10¹² K it is one. The scattered photons are scattered again, and each order multiplies by the same factor, so the second-order curve rises as the tenth power: at twice the limit the total loss is 1056 times the synchrotron power, and the electrons radiate away their energy in hours as X-rays and gamma rays. A steady source cannot sit above the line where the ratio is one. That is the inverse-Compton catastrophe, and it makes 10¹² K a ceiling on the brightness temperature of any incoherent synchrotron source at rest.

Starlight

A temperature that is a speed

No steady synchrotron source can be brighter than about a trillion kelvin, because above that its electrons lose their energy scattering their own photons faster than they can radiate it. So when a radio source is measured brighter — as the cores of quasars routinely are — the excess is not a hotter source. It is a source coming towards the observer, and the brightness temperature becomes a measurement of how fast.

Exoplanets

An escape that stops following the starlight

The standard estimate of how fast a planet loses its atmosphere assumes the loss grows in proportion to the ultraviolet light it absorbs. It does, up to a point. Beyond about ten thousand erg per square centimetre per second the escaping gas is fully ionised, its heat leaves as Lyman-α light instead of lifting anything, and the loss grows only as the square root of the flux — so the one efficiency every calculation needs is really a function of where the planet sits.

$A fringe that is dark on the star and bright on the planet. The fraction of a point source's light an interferometric nuller transmits, against its angle from the star along the baseline, in milliarcseconds, for two telescopes 10.3 m apart observing at 10 μm — the baseline that puts the first bright fringe exactly on a planet 1 AU from a star 10 pc away, 100 milliarcseconds out. The solid curve is the two-telescope null, sin²: it is zero on the star and rises as the square of the angle. The dashed curve is a quartic null, sin⁴, made by combining four apertures: it is darker near the star and narrower at the planet. The shaded strip is the star itself, 0.93 milliarcseconds across. It looks negligible at this scale, but the null is not perfect across it, and what leaks from that strip is the quantity the whole technique has to beat.$ Exoplanets

A null filled in by the star itself

Two telescopes combined out of phase cancel a star on the axis and pass a planet beside it, and the cancellation rises only as the square of the angle away from the axis. A star is not a point, so its own edges sit off the axis — and for the Sun seen with the baseline that finds the Earth, they leak through at a hundred and fifty times the Earth's brightness, at every distance, because the leak depends only on the size of the star compared with the planet's orbit.

The distance a proton keeps its energy, against the energy. The energy-loss length of a cosmic-ray proton — the distance over which it would lose all its energy at its current rate — against its energy, computed from the photon density of the microwave background at 2.725 K and the cross-section for photoproducing a pion, which peaks at the Δ resonance. The dashed line is the loss to cosmic expansion alone, about 4,283 Mpc. Only above about 6.1·10¹⁹ eV does the combined loss length fall below a gigaparsec, because below that few background photons are energetic enough in the proton's frame to cross the 145 MeV threshold. Above it the loss length collapses: 144,327 Mpc at 3.16·10¹⁹ eV, 155 Mpc at 10²⁰ and 19 Mpc at 10²¹, where every proton is above threshold and the loss is set by the photon density alone. A proton seen above 10²⁰ eV has come from within a hundred megaparsecs or so — a horizon drawn by light at three kelvin. Pair production on the same photons, which costs about a gigaparsec near 10¹⁹ eV, is not drawn.

Galaxies

A horizon drawn by light at three kelvin

A proton above about fifty exaelectronvolts cannot cross the universe, because the microwave background, seen from the proton, is a bath of gamma rays that it loses energy to by making pions. The cut-off in the cosmic-ray spectrum sits where that horizon predicts. But a source that simply cannot accelerate particles any harder would put a cut-off in the same place, and what the particles turn out to be made of says the second explanation may be the right one.

When a target can be observed from a telescope that cannot look near the Sun. The days of the year (across) on which a target at ecliptic longitude 0° and a given ecliptic latitude (up) can be observed by a telescope allowed to point only between 85° and 135° from the Sun, the constraint of a large infrared telescope at the Sun–Earth L2 point. The Sun moves along the ecliptic once a year, and the allowed band sweeps round with it. A target on the ecliptic is inside the band twice a year, for about 51 days each time, a little before and a little after its opposition — never at it, since opposition is 180° from the Sun. The two windows widen with latitude and merge into one above 45°, where the elongation at opposition no longer exceeds 135°; within 5° of either ecliptic pole, where the elongation at conjunction no longer falls below 85°, the target is never outside the band at all, which is the continuous viewing zone. The pattern depends on ecliptic, not equatorial, coordinates: the season of a space telescope is set by the Sun's path, and the Earth's axis has no part in it.

The observed sky

A season without a night

A telescope in space has no horizon and no night, and it can still only look at most of the sky for part of the year. Its season is a band of solar elongation swept round the ecliptic by the Sun, so an object on the ecliptic can be seen for two stretches of about seven weeks and never at opposition, while the few degrees round the ecliptic poles can be watched all year. From low orbit the Earth takes the night's place, and the zones it never hides are carried round the sky every eight weeks by the planet's equatorial bulge.

One surface, two ages, and a kink between them. The cumulative number of craters per square kilometre larger than a given diameter, both on logarithmic axes, for a surface that formed 3.9 billion years ago and was flooded 3.3 billion years ago by a layer 200 m thick. The dashed lines are the isochrons of the two ages under the lunar chronology. Craters with rims taller than the flood — larger than 5.6 km, since a simple crater's rim stands about 0.036 of its diameter high — survived it, so above the kink the count follows the 3.9-billion-year isochron. Everything smaller was buried, and the craters counted there formed after the flood, so below the kink the count follows the 3.3-billion-year isochron. Fitting the branches separately returns 3.90 and 3.30 billion years. The kink is not noise and not a change in the impactors: its diameter is a measurement of how thick the flood was.

Orbits

A kink that measures how deep the lava was

A surface that was flooded partway through its life carries two crater populations — the old craters too big to bury, and the young ones made since — and its crater count follows one age above a certain diameter and another below it. The diameter of the kink is the thickness of the flood, read through the height of a crater's rim, and a single age fitted across it describes nothing that ever happened.

The cheapest circular orbit to stop in at Mars is not the lowest. The speed change needed to capture into a circular orbit round Mars, in km/s, against the orbit's radius in Mars radii, for arrival excesses of 2.65, 4, 6 km/s — the first being a minimum-energy transfer from the Earth. One burn at periapsis, where the spacecraft is fastest, turns the hyperbola into the circle. The cost has a minimum, at a radius of 2μ/v∞² from the planet's centre, where it is exactly v∞/√2: 3.6 radii and 1.87 km/s for 2.65 km/s; 1.6 radii and 2.83 km/s for 4 km/s; 0.7 radii and 4.24 km/s for 6 km/s. Lower orbits cost more because the circular speed there is higher than the gain from arriving deeper in the well; higher orbits cost more because the burn is made where the spacecraft is moving slowly and the Oberth effect is lost. A faster arrival moves the optimum inward, and at a large enough excess it moves below the planet's surface, where every circular orbit is on the expensive side of the minimum.

Spaceflight

The cheapest circle to stop in

A spacecraft arriving at a planet has to lose speed to stay, and the cheapest circular orbit to lose it into is not the lowest. It sits at a radius set only by the arrival speed — twice the planet's gravitational parameter divided by the square of the excess — where the braking costs exactly the excess divided by the square root of two. Most orbiters want something else, and the arithmetic of what they do instead decides which planets are cheap to stop at and which are not.

The sky-averaged 21-centimetre signal, and the trough that was claimed. The brightness temperature of neutral hydrogen's 21-centimetre line relative to the microwave background, averaged over the sky, in millikelvin, against observed frequency (the redshift is 1420.4 MHz over the frequency, minus one). In this model the first stars' ultraviolet couples the hydrogen's spin to the gas near redshift 17, X-rays heat the gas near 11, and reionisation is half complete at 7.7. Because the gas has cooled faster than the background since it decoupled, coupling makes it absorb: the trough reaches −171 mK at 71 MHz (redshift 19.1). Heating turns the signal into a weak emission, and reionisation removes it above about 197 MHz. The dashed curve is the deepest absorption standard physics allows at each frequency — gas that has only cooled, fully coupled — and the point is the one claimed detection, −500 mK at 78 MHz: about 1.9 times deeper than that floor.

Cosmology

A shadow cast on the microwave background

Before the first stars lit it up, the neutral hydrogen between the galaxies was colder than the microwave background behind it, and once starlight tied its 21-centimetre line to that cold, it absorbed. The absorption, redshifted to radio frequencies near 70 megahertz, is a thermometer for gas nobody has seen — and the one claimed detection was twice as deep as cooling alone allows, which is either a discovery about dark matter or a lesson about antennas.

Cosmology

An emptiness that expands faster

A cosmic void is not a hole in the universe but a region with a fifth of the average density, and gravity makes it behave like a small open universe: it expands faster than its surroundings, every galaxy in it streams outward, and in a redshift survey it is stretched along the line of sight — the opposite of what the same gravity does around a cluster. The stretch measures how fast structure grows, and the average void's roundness measures the geometry of the universe.

$A clumped plasma recombines earlier. The fraction of hydrogen still ionised against redshift, decreasing to the right, on a logarithmic axis, from Peebles's three-level atom: for a smooth plasma (solid), and for one whose baryons are clumped into two equal volumes at 1.71 and 0.29 times the mean density, a clumping factor of 0.5 (thick dashed, averaged by mass; thin dashed, each zone alone). Recombination goes as the density squared, so the dense zone recombines first and carries most of the mass; the average ionisation falls through one half at redshift 1292 instead of 1273, and at redshift 1100 it is 0.123 against 0.145. The photons cannot see the individual patches, which are smaller than their mean free path; they see only the average, and the average recombines earlier.$ Cosmology

A field that would have moved the ruler

A magnetic field left over from the early universe, too weak to matter to any galaxy, could still have pushed the baryons into small clumps before the universe became transparent. Clumped hydrogen recombines earlier, the sound waves in the plasma stop sooner, and the ruler that the microwave background is read with comes out shorter — which raises the Hubble constant the background implies, in the direction of the disagreement that has resisted every other explanation.

Gravitation

A disc that throws its spin upward

A disc does not need turbulence to accrete. A magnetic field threading it can fling gas off its surface along field lines tilted more than thirty degrees from the vertical, and each gram flung out leaves with several times the angular momentum it had — so a wind carrying a few per cent of the inflow can drive the rest onto the star. Because it pulls on the disc's faces rather than across its edge, a wind outpulls the turbulence as soon as the field's pressure is a few ten-thousandths of the gas's.

$Supply and demand in a cluster's core. The rate at which hard binaries heat a star cluster's core, against the core's central density, for binary fractions of 1%, 5%, 20%, both on logarithmic axes and in units that put the balance for five per cent at one. The heating rate per binary does not depend on how hard the binary is — the energy released per encounter is proportional to its binding, and the chance of an encounter to its size, so the two cancel — and summed over a core whose radius shrinks as its density rises, the total grows as the square root of the density. The horizontal line is the demand: the energy the rest of the cluster carries away by relaxation through its half-mass radius, which the core has no say in. Each supply curve meets it at one density: 25 for 1%, 1.0 for 5%, 0.063 for 20%. The core contracts or expands until it produces exactly what is demanded, and a core rich in binaries does so at a lower density.$ Gravitation

A core that makes what the cluster asks for

After core collapse, a star cluster's binaries heat it — but how much they heat it is not theirs to decide. The rest of the cluster carries energy outward at a rate fixed by its own size and mass, and the core contracts or swells until its binaries supply exactly that. So the core's structure follows from the halo's demand, and the cluster expands at a rate that forgets how it was born.

A chaotic orbit that waits, and then moves. The momentum of one trajectory of the standard map at K = 1.2, unwrapped and counted in whole turns of 2π, against the iteration number, over 39,892 iterations. The motion inside each band is chaotic from the first step — the trajectory's Lyapunov time is 3.7 iterations — but it lingers near one integer resonance for thousands of iterations before reaching the next: the waits were 3,098, 1,464, 9,461, 15,957, 6,058, 3,854 iterations. Each arrival at the next integer resonance, drawn dashed, is marked. Between the integer resonances lie the remnants of the broken invariant curves, which no longer block the trajectory but still hold it, and each passage is quick compared with the wait before it.

Gravitation

A barrier that leaks at a rate that can be computed

When the last invariant curve between two resonances breaks, it does not vanish. It becomes a cantorus — a curve full of gaps — and a chaotic orbit has to find the gaps to get through. The time that takes grows as the cube of how close the system is to the threshold, and it has nothing to do with the Lyapunov time, which is why an orbit can be hopelessly unpredictable and still stay put for the age of the solar system.

Gravitation

An equilibrium reached without a single encounter

Every dynamical mass of a galaxy assumes its stars obey the virial theorem, and no two of those stars have ever exchanged energy. A collapse computed shell by shell shows how a system gets there anyway — in a few free-fall times, at half the size it fell from, by a potential that changes while its orbits are still moving through it.

$How sharp a single short exposure is, for three sizes of telescope. The distribution of the Strehl ratio — the peak brightness of a star's image as a fraction of a perfect telescope's — for 600 independent short exposures through simulated Kolmogorov turbulence, with image motion removed, for telescopes 4, 7, 10 times the Fried parameter r₀ across. The screens' mean phase variance matches the analytic value for tilt-removed turbulence to within 2 per cent. At D/r₀ = 4 the exposures spread over the whole range and 31 per cent are better than 0.37 — a phase error under one radian, a nearly diffraction-limited image. At 7 the distribution has slid to low Strehl ratios and none of the 600 are that good; at 10, none. The best frames at the larger ratios are still several times sharper than the average, which is what practical selection keeps. The atmosphere is not uniformly bad: every so often, for a few milliseconds, the turbulence over a small enough aperture happens to be nearly flat, and those instants are a diffraction-limited telescope for free.$ The observed sky

A sharp image kept by throwing the rest away

The atmosphere does not blur every instant equally. Now and then, for a few milliseconds, the air over a small telescope is almost flat, and a short exposure taken then is as sharp as the mirror allows. How often that happens falls as the exponential of the square of the telescope's size — which is why the method works on a two-metre mirror in the red and nowhere else.

Stars

A lifetime that is still a forecast

No star lighter than nine-tenths of the Sun has ever died, because none has had time. The smallest are convective to their centres, burn almost all their hydrogen rather than a tenth of it, and will shine for trillions of years. Most of the stars in the Galaxy therefore have a life history no observation has tested, and only one in thirteen stars ever born has finished.

What it costs to reach Mars faster than the Hohmann transfer. The total velocity change to go from a 400 km orbit round the Earth to a 400 km circular orbit round Mars (solid), and the heliocentric part alone (dashed), against flight time, for transfers that leave the Earth's orbit tangentially and cross Mars's before reaching their far point; both planets are on circular, coplanar orbits. The right-hand end is the Hohmann transfer: 259 days and 5.65 km/s. Shortening it to 200 days costs 0.82 km/s more; to 150 days, 3.4 km/s more; below a hundred days the cost climbs past twenty. The curve leaves the Hohmann point with zero slope — the cheapest transfer is a minimum, so the first days saved cost almost nothing — and turns steeply upward only once the transfer ellipse has become long and thin. For the fastest transfers the orbit-to-orbit cost is below the heliocentric one, because a burn made deep in a planet's gravity well adds more to the speed at which the craft leaves it than the burn itself.

Spaceflight

The first weeks off a Hohmann transfer are nearly free

The Hohmann transfer to Mars takes 259 days and is the cheapest route there is. Because it is a minimum, the cost of going faster starts flat — ten days saved costs twenty metres a second — and only climbs steeply once weeks have become months. For a crew, the time is itself a cost, paid in radiation at about two millisieverts a day.

Two clocks for a radiation-belt electron, at Kp 2. Two times against drift shell L, on a logarithmic scale, for electrons of about 1 MeV. The first is how long radial diffusion takes to move an electron by one Earth radius, the inverse of an empirical diffusion coefficient that grows as the tenth power of L — at Kp 2, 550 years at L = 2, 10 years at L = 3, 21 days at L = 5. The second is how long the electron survives before it is scattered into the loss cone. Inside the plasmapause, here at L = 4.7, that is set by plasmaspheric hiss: years at L = 1.3, 14 days at L = 2.5, 5.2 days at L = 3; outside it a single lifetime of 30 days stands for every other loss. Inside L = 4.8 the electron is lost before diffusion can carry it further in, which is the shaded region; outside, diffusion wins and the belt is fed. The two curves cross at a single place, and that crossing is the inner edge of the outer belt.

Spaceflight

The gap between the belts is a race between two clocks

Electrons reach the inner magnetosphere by diffusing inward from the outer edge, and they are lost there to waves that scatter them into the atmosphere. The diffusion slows as the tenth power of distance and the loss does not, so the two clocks cross at one sharp place. Inside it lies the slot, and at megaelectronvolt energies the inner electron belt is not a steady population at all but what the last great storm left behind.

The pull of a ring, a shell and a point, in the plane. Radial force in the plane of a thin ring of radius 1, against distance from its centre, in units where the same mass at a point would pull with one over the distance squared; positive is outward. Inside a spherical shell of the same radius and mass the force is exactly zero. Inside the ring it is not: it points outward, toward the nearer part of the ring, at 0.34 at half the radius and 2.75 at nine tenths, growing without limit toward the rim. Outside, the ring pulls inward harder than a point would, by 25 per cent at twice its radius and 9 per cent at three times, because the near side of the ring is closer than the centre. The shell is indistinguishable from the point everywhere outside it.

Gravitation

Inside a ring the pull points outward

A hollow sphere exerts no force on anything inside it, and the proof is a pair of cones whose areas grow exactly as fast as gravity weakens. Cut the sphere down to a ring and the arcs grow only as the distance, the nearer side wins, and a planet set in the middle of a rigid ring falls into it within a handful of orbits — which is why Saturn's rings cannot be solid, and why a flat galaxy spins faster than its own enclosed mass allows.

Plasma beta from the corona's base outward. The ratio β of gas pressure to magnetic pressure against distance from the Sun's centre, one to ten solar radii on logarithmic scales, for a static isothermal corona in a dipole field. quiet Sun, 5 G at the base, with 10⁹ electrons per cubic centimetre at 1.5 million kelvin: β starts at 0.41 and crosses one again at 3.46 solar radii; quiet Sun, 10 G at the base, with 10⁹ electrons per cubic centimetre at 1.5 million kelvin: β starts at 0.1 and crosses one again at 5.00 solar radii; active region, 30 G at the base, with 3·10⁹ electrons per cubic centimetre at 2.5 million kelvin: β starts at 0.058 and crosses one again at 2.97 solar radii. The gas pressure falls steeply at first and then levels off, because gravity weakens with distance; the field's pressure, falling as the sixth power, never levels. Every corona therefore has a second place where the gas takes over, and it sits at two to four solar radii — where the closed loops of the corona end and the streamers' tips begin.

Stars

A corona held by its field and opened by its gas

A thousand kilometres above the Sun's surface the gas pressure has fallen so far that the magnetic field takes charge, and the corona's loops are the shape the field gives it. But the gas pressure of a hot atmosphere stops falling a few solar radii out, while the field's keeps falling as the sixth power of distance. So there is a second place where the gas takes over — and it is where the loops end, the streamers begin, and the solar wind is let out.

Stars

The same flux in three sizes

A few per cent of hot main-sequence stars carry kilogauss fields that do not change over decades. So do a similar share of white dwarfs, at a million times the strength, and of young neutron stars, at a hundred billion times it. Multiply each field by its star's area and the three classes carry nearly the same magnetic flux — what a field frozen into a star would keep as the star shrank by a factor of a hundred thousand. A collapse makes a field enormous, but it cannot make it important.

Starlight

A wall built by a steep opacity

A star that is convective all the way to its surface cannot choose its surface temperature. The interior fixes a relation between pressure and temperature, the photosphere fixes another through its opacity, and the negative hydrogen ion's opacity rises so steeply with temperature that the two meet at nearly the same temperature whatever the star's size. Young stars contracting and old stars swelling slide up and down a line in the diagram almost without changing colour — and nothing in equilibrium can sit to its right.

$The Hubble constant the microwave background implies, with an early component. The Hubble constant that keeps the microwave background's measured angular sound horizon fixed, against the peak fraction of early dark energy at z = 3500, with the baryon density held at its standard value and the matter fraction at the 0.315 that late-time distances measure, so that the dark-matter density rises with the Hubble constant. With none, it is 67.4 km/s/Mpc and the horizon 144.3 Mpc. At 5 per cent it is 68.7; at 10 per cent 70.2, with the horizon at 138.5 Mpc; the local value of 73 is reached at 19 per cent. The shrinkage of the horizon is what raises the constant: a shorter ruler at the same angle must be nearer, and nearer at a fixed matter fraction means faster expansion. The extra dark matter this requires is the cost the published fits also find: at the value that reaches 73, the physical matter density is 18 per cent higher than in the standard model.$ Cosmology

A ruler shortened by something already gone

The microwave background gives the Hubble constant only through a computed length, the distance sound travelled before the universe became transparent. Add a component of energy that exists for a few thousand years before recombination and then vanishes faster than radiation, and the universe expands a little faster while the sound is travelling, the ruler comes out a few per cent shorter, and the inferred expansion rate rises toward the local value. The price is paid in dark matter and in the finest details of the oldest light.

Exoplanets

Dust that does not dim with distance

An Earth-like planet around a nearby star is seen against the glow of the dust in its own system, and the two behave differently with distance. The planet is a point, and it fades as the square of how far away it is. The dust is a surface, and a surface does not fade at all — a more distant system packs more dust into each resolution element in exactly the proportion its light is diluted. So the dust around a star, not the telescope's contrast, sets how far away an Earth can be found, and how many stars a search can reach.

Spaceflight

Fifty objects that hold most of the future

Low Earth orbit holds thousands of dead satellites and spent rocket stages, and the debris of the future will come mostly from their collisions. But not in equal shares. A derelict's contribution is the chance it is hit, times the fragments it would make, times how long they would stay up — and all three favour the heaviest objects in the most crowded, highest orbits. Ranked that way, a few tens of rocket bodies near 850 kilometres carry nearly half the risk, and the arithmetic of cleaning space becomes the arithmetic of choosing them.

Three initial mass functions, normalised to the same light. The number of stars per logarithmic interval of mass, on a logarithmic axis, for three initial mass functions — Kroupa, Salpeter, bottom-heavy — each normalised to the same number of stars above one solar mass, so that the stars which make an old population's light are the same in each. They differ only below a solar mass. In a 10 billion year old population the stars below half a solar mass hold 62 per cent, 78 per cent, 91 per cent of the living stellar mass, and they give 15.8, 24.2, 41.7 per cent of the light of the main sequence, which is itself a third of the population's. The difference between them is almost entirely mass that emits almost nothing.

Galaxies

Stars that weigh and do not shine

Most of the mass in an old stellar population is in stars too faint to contribute to its light. How many of them there are is set by the mass function stars are born with, and the mass-to-light ratio every dark-matter measurement divides by can be wrong by a factor of two without a single colour changing.

The observed acceleration against the acceleration the visible matter explains. The acceleration measured from a rotation curve, v²/r, against the acceleration the stars and gas alone would produce at the same radius, both on logarithmic axes in metres per second squared. The solid curve is the fitting function to the measured relation for 153 disc galaxies, g(obs) = g(bar) / (1 − e^(−√(g(bar)/a₀))) with a₀ = 1.2 × 10⁻¹⁰ m s⁻², and the band is its observed scatter of ±0.13 dex, most of which is measurement error. Above a₀ the relation follows the dashed line of equality, where the baryons account for everything; below it, it bends onto the dotted line g(obs) = √(g(bar)·a₀). At ten times a₀ the observed acceleration exceeds the baryonic by a factor of 1.06; at a₀, by 1.58; at a hundredth of a₀, by 10.5. The discrepancy the dark matter is invoked to explain is a function of one variable, and the variable is an acceleration.

Galaxies

One acceleration, and every galaxy's missing mass

Plot the acceleration measured at each radius of a rotation curve against the acceleration its stars and gas would produce there, for every galaxy at once, and the points fall on a single curve. Where the discrepancy begins is set not by a radius or a mass but by an acceleration.

Which of three bodies is thrown out. Of 60 integrations of three bodies of mass 1, 2, 3 released from rest in random triangles, 57 broke up within the time integrated, each leaving one body unbound and a binary behind. The escaper was the body of mass 1 in 46 runs (81 per cent), 2 in 6 runs (11 per cent), 3 in 5 runs (9 per cent). The bars beside them are the shares the statistical theory of break-up predicts to leading order, in proportion to the escaper's mass to the power −3: 86, 11, 3 per cent. Every run is deterministic and none of them could be predicted without integrating it, but the ensemble is: the lightest body leaves most often when the masses differ, because the energy of the binary left behind is shared between the escaper and the binary's recoil in inverse proportion to their masses, and the lightest body gets the most speed. Energy is conserved in every run to better than 3·10⁻⁴.

Gravitation

The lightest body leaves

Three stars close together, with no hierarchy between them, cannot stay together. One of them is thrown out, which one is unpredictable in any single case, and across many cases it is almost always the lightest — a statistical law emerging from a deterministic chaos that cannot be integrated far enough to forecast.

Stars

The last fuels burn for the neutrinos

A massive star burns hydrogen for millions of years and silicon for about a day. The collapse in duration is not because the late fuels are poorer; it is because, from carbon burning on, the core loses more energy to neutrinos than the whole star gives out as light, and the neutrino losses rise as the ninth power of the temperature.

Stars

A flow that piles up at the magic numbers

Half the elements heavier than iron were built one neutron at a time, in ageing stars, over thousands of years. The flow of matter up the chart of nuclei settles into a balance in which each nucleus is as abundant as it is reluctant to capture — and it jams at the closed neutron shells, leaving the peaks at strontium, barium and lead that every star's spectrum records.

$A velocity error that grows with distance. The uncertainty in one galaxy's peculiar velocity, v = cz − H₀d, against its distance in Mpc/h, when the distance comes from an indicator with a fractional error of 5 per cent, 20 per cent, 25 per cent (type Ia supernovae, 5%; Tully–Fisher, 20%; fundamental plane, 25%). The redshift is exact to a few kilometres a second, so the whole error is the distance error times H₀, and it grows in proportion to the distance. The horizontal line is the rms velocity of a galaxy along one direction in linear theory for the model drawn, 302 km/s. Each galaxy's own velocity is measured to better than its own size only inside 60 Mpc/h for 5 per cent, 15 Mpc/h for 20 per cent, 12 Mpc/h for 25 per cent; beyond that a single velocity is mostly noise, and a velocity survey is useful only as an average over many galaxies.$ Cosmology

Velocities that see past the edge of the map

A redshift survey infers the motions of galaxies from the distortions of its own map. A peculiar-velocity survey measures them directly, one galaxy at a time, by subtracting a distance from a redshift — and every one of those measurements is dominated by its own error beyond a few tens of megaparsecs. What makes the survey worth doing is that a velocity answers for structure far larger than the volume it is measured in.

Cosmology

A void is not short of dwarf haloes

The centre of a large void holds a fifth of the average density of matter and almost no galaxies, and it is natural to read the two facts as one. They are not. The theory of how haloes form says a void turns its matter into dwarf-sized haloes at least as readily as anywhere else — it is short of big haloes, not small ones — so a void empty of dwarf galaxies is a statement about which haloes were allowed to light up.

Every curvature has a Hubble constant that leaves the peaks where they are. The Hubble constant a universe needs in order to put the acoustic peaks of the microwave background at the measured angle, against its spatial curvature Ωₖ, with the physical densities of baryons, matter and radiation held at their fitted values so that the sound horizon is unchanged. Along this line the angle θ* — the sound horizon over the distance to last scattering — is exactly constant and the peak positions do not move. The flat member has H₀ = 67.4 km/s/Mpc; a closed universe with Ωₖ = −0.044 needs 53.5, with a matter density of 0.50; an open one with Ωₖ = +0.010 reaches the locally measured 73. The peaks alone therefore measure a combination of curvature and expansion rate, not either one, and the statement that the universe is flat to a few parts in a thousand needs a second distance measured somewhere else.

Cosmology

A flatness that needs a second distance

The universe is said to be flat to two parts in a thousand, and the figure is usually credited to the microwave background. On its own the background measures one angle, and one angle fixes one distance — so every curvature has a Hubble constant that reproduces the peaks exactly. Flatness is where that line crosses a second measurement, and it is only as good as the crossing.

$One history of mass loss, three orbits, three outcomes. The eccentricity of three planets' orbits against the fraction of the star's mass lost so far, as the star sheds 45 per cent of its mass in 6 equal pulses at irregular intervals. Each planet starts with e = 0.05. The pulses are the same events in the star's own time, and the planets differ only in their periods, so each pulse lasts 3, 0.3, 0.03 orbital periods respectively. For the innermost planet, to which every pulse is slow, the eccentricity ends at 0.050: the orbit swells and keeps its shape. For the outermost, to which every pulse is sudden, each pulse kicks the eccentricity by an amount set by where the planet happened to be, and it ends at 0.298. The middle planet ends at 0.090. The same total loss leaves three different shapes, and only one of them is predicted by either limit alone.$ Orbits

The size forgets how the mass was lost, and the shape does not

A dying star loses half its mass, and a planet round it keeps its orbit's shape if the loss is slow and has it scrambled if the loss is sudden. Real stars lose mass in pulses — each one sudden or slow depending on the planet — and what survives a train of pulses is neither answer: the orbit's size settles to the slow value quickly, while its eccentricity random-walks and keeps a record of the history.

The same tilt, and ice ages of two different lengths. Top: the obliquity anomaly in degrees from the five largest terms of the standard series, over 2 million years of model time; it is dominated by the 41,000-year cycle and has no power at all near 100,000 years. Bottom: ice volume in a threshold model driven by it — the ice grows steadily, and it collapses whenever volume plus a multiple of the obliquity anomaly crosses a threshold, marked by dots. For the first 1 million years the threshold is low and the ice collapses at nearly every obliquity maximum, on average every 43 thousand years. At the vertical line the threshold is raised, and nothing else changes: the ice now survives one or two obliquity maxima and collapses at the second or third, every 108 thousand years on average. The forcing is identical on both sides; the ice sheet counts it differently.

Orbits

An ice sheet that skips a beat of the tilt

The last eight hundred thousand years of ice ages come roughly every hundred thousand years, and the Earth's orbit has no forcing of any strength at that period. A model in which an ice sheet collapses only when it is both large and warmed by a high-obliquity summer reproduces the rhythm with nothing but the forty-one-thousand-year tilt — the ice sheet grows through one or two maxima and falls on the next — and a slow rise in how large the ice must grow turns the older forty-one-thousand-year world into the newer one without any change in the orbit.

The observed sky

Luck that reaches as far as the quiet air

Lucky imaging keeps the rare short exposures in which a reference star happens to be sharp, and a sharp star says the air was flat along one line of sight. A target a few arcseconds away looks through different air. It turns out to be sharper in those frames than the geometry of a single turbulent layer allows, because choosing a lucky instant chooses, preferentially, an instant when the high turbulence was weak — and weakness, unlike the pattern of the turbulence, is shared across the field.

The zenith sky after sunset, with light scattered twice. The brightness of the zenith sky at 550 nm in magnitudes per square arcsecond, brighter upward, against the Sun's depression: light scattered once (dashed), light scattered twice (dash-dot), and their sum (solid), in a spherical atmosphere with US Standard densities, Rayleigh scattering and 300 Dobson units of ozone. The dashed horizontal line is the natural night sky, 21.9 magnitudes per square arcsecond. Once-scattered light reaches it at 9.2°; the sum, dominated beyond about seven degrees by light scattered twice, reaches it at 13.2°, and it falls to a hundredth of the night sky — five magnitudes fainter, about the smallest excess a careful measurement of the sky can detect — at 17.5°, where once-scattered light alone would have reached that level at 11.9°. The second order falls more slowly than the first because it can reach the zenith by two grazing hops — sunlight to the lit air low towards the Sun, and that air to the shadowed air overhead — each of which needs only part of the depression a single hop would. Orders beyond the second are left out, so the solid curve is a lower bound on the sky.

The observed sky

The night is late because the light bounces twice

Light scattered once can reach the zenith only while the Earth's shadow over the observer is still low in the air, and by that reckoning the sky should reach the darkness of night about nine degrees after sunset. It does not until eighteen. The difference is light scattered twice — first by the sunlit air hundreds of kilometres towards the sunset, then again by the shadowed air overhead — and adding it to the calculation moves the end of twilight almost exactly to where observers have always put it.

How much light a fixed mass of dust scatters, as its largest grains grow. The scattering cross-section per unit mass of dust, on a logarithmic scale relative to the largest value drawn, against the size of the largest grains in a power-law distribution n(a) ∝ a^−3.5 from 0.005 µm, at wavelengths of 1.25, 2.2, 3.6 µm. With the largest grains at a quarter of a micron — the size the interstellar extinction curve implies — the dust scatters 3.6 µm light 33 times less efficiently than it does once they reach a micron: grains much smaller than the wavelength scatter as the fourth power of their size over the wavelength and are all but invisible. At 3.6 µm the scattering per mass peaks when the largest grains are 3.5 µm, and falls beyond, as the mass moves into grains too large to scatter efficiently per gram. A dense core that glows at 3.6 µm in scattered starlight is therefore a core whose grains have grown to a micron or more.

Starlight

A glow that weighs the grains reddening cannot see

The interstellar extinction curve reads the sizes of dust grains from how much more they dim blue light than red, and it goes blind at the top end: grains larger than about a micron dim every visible colour alike. Those are the grains that hold most of the mass, and the ones from which planets begin. Dense cloud cores glowing faintly at 3.6 microns in scattered starlight are the first direct sign of them — because only grains grown to a micron or more scatter that light at all.

Gravitation

The shell can be flattened if it thins at the poles

A spherical shell exerts no force anywhere inside it, and a ring exerts a force that points outward. Between them lies a shape Newton found that keeps the sphere's empty interior however far it is flattened: the homoeoid, a shell bounded by two similar ellipsoids, thick at the equator and thin at the poles in exactly the right proportion. It is why the gravity inside any flattened body can be computed at all — and why the planes of stellar streams measure the shapes of dark haloes.

The orbit that turns across the bar. The radial displacement with which a nearly circular orbit answers a weak rotating bar, against radius in kiloparsecs, in linear theory, scaled to its largest value: positive means the orbit's long axis lies along the bar, negative across it. The disc's rotation curve rises within 0.35 kpc to 220 km/s, the bar ends at 3 kpc and turns with corotation at 3.6 kpc, and the disc then has two inner Lindblad resonances, at 0.37 and 0.78 kpc (vertical lines). Without dissipation (dashed) the response diverges at each resonance and changes sign across it: orbits between corotation and the outer resonance are elongated along the bar — the x1 family that builds the bar itself — and orbits between the two resonances are elongated across it — the x2 family. Gas, which dissipates (solid, damping 8 km/s/kpc), cannot follow the flip abruptly; its orbits turn through ninety degrees over a band round the resonance, where streams of gas on neighbouring orbits cross, collide and shock. That band is where a nuclear ring forms. Near corotation the linear theory itself fails, and the curves stop short of it.

Galaxies

The bar leaves its gas where the orbits turn

A rotating bar in a disc galaxy drives gas inwards from kiloparsecs out, and the gas does not fall to the centre. It stops in a ring a few hundred parsecs across and forms stars there at rates the rest of the galaxy cannot match. The ring sits at the bar's inner Lindblad resonance, where the orbits that support the bar give way to orbits turned across it — so its existence says there is mass concentrated at the centre, and its size says how fast the bar turns.

Stars

Mechanics sets a star's temperature before fusion does

A ball of gas with the Sun's mass and radius must average at least two million kelvin inside, whatever it is made of and whatever powers it, because nothing else can hold it up. The bound comes from the virial theorem and one inequality about gravitational binding. Where it is met, a body can be a star; where it demands temperatures a body plainly does not have — the Earth, Jupiter, a white dwarf — it proves that something other than hot gas is holding that body up.

The spectrum ahead is the spectrum behind, shifted. The difference between the local power spectrum of the microwave background measured in the direction of the observer's motion and in the opposite direction, as a percentage of the average, against multipole, at 369.8 km/s. Ahead, the pattern is compressed and every feature moves to a higher multipole by a factor 1 + β; behind, to a lower one by 1 − β, with β = 1.234e-3. The difference is largest where the spectrum is steepest — 2.30 per cent at most in this range — and passes through zero at every peak and trough, where a small shift changes nothing. The spectrum is an interpolation through the measured peaks and troughs, so its steepness between them is known only to that resolution. A per cent of a quantity estimated from millions of independent modes is a measurable number.

Cosmology

A speed read from the finest spots in the map

The dipole in the microwave sky is taken to be the observer's motion and subtracted. The same motion also squeezes the small-scale pattern towards the direction of travel by a part in a thousand, and that squeeze measures the speed a second time without using the dipole at all — which is the only way to ask how much of the dipole is the universe's own.

$How often a merged black hole is kicked faster than a given speed. The fraction of black-hole mergers whose remnant recoils faster than the speed on the horizontal axis, for mass ratios spread evenly in logarithm between 0.1 and 1 and spins of 0.9 of the maximum, spins within 10° of the orbit; spins within 30°; spins in random directions, from a fitting formula to numerical relativity over 4000 random mergers each. The median kicks are 113, 234, 534 km/s. Faster than 100 km/s: 62%, 85%, 96%. Faster than 300 km/s: 5%, 40%, 74%. Faster than 1000 km/s: 0%, 2%, 25%. Gas accreted before the merger is expected to drag both spins into line with the orbit, which is why a gas-rich merger keeps its black hole far more often than a gas-poor one.$ Galaxies

A black hole thrown out by its own merger

When two black holes merge, the gravitational waves they radiate carry momentum as well as energy, and unless the two are identical and spinning in line the waves leave more in one direction than the other. The remnant recoils, at anything from a few tens of kilometres a second to several thousand — and whether a galaxy keeps its central black hole comes down to how its spins were pointing in the last orbit before the merger.

Galaxies

The black holes that can be weighed are the heavy ones

A black hole's mass is measured from the motions of stars or gas only inside its sphere of influence, the region where its gravity beats the galaxy's, and that region has to be resolved. At a given galaxy, a heavier hole rules a larger sphere and can be weighed further away, in a much larger volume — so the sample of weighed holes is drawn from the top of the distribution, and the relations built from it describe the heavy end of every galaxy rather than the typical one.

Mass profiles that pinch together near the half-light radius. The enclosed mass of each of the 13 haloes that fit the same flat dispersion of 10 km/s, against radius in units of the stars' three-dimensional half-light radius, 391 parsecs. At a tenth of that radius they span a factor of 17, and at four times it a factor of 2.5; they pinch together near the half-light radius, closest at 1.47 of it, where they agree to 14 per cent. The dot is the estimate 3σ²r/G at the radius where the stars' density falls as r⁻³, 0.94 of the half-light radius; there the fitted masses lie between 0.65 and 1.03 times it. Each model trades a wrong guess about the orbits against a wrong guess about the mass, in opposite senses inside and outside.

Galaxies

The one radius where the orbits stop mattering

A velocity dispersion weighs a galaxy only if the shape of its stars' orbits is known, and it never is. Yet every model that fits a dwarf galaxy's flat dispersion profile — cored or cusped, radial orbits or tangential — agrees on the mass inside one particular radius, close to the radius that contains half the light. The degeneracy has a node, and the node is where the measurement should be quoted.

Gravity per kilometre of topography, by wavelength. The free-air gravity anomaly per kilometre of topography — the admittance — on Earth, against the wavelength of the topography, for elastic plates 5, 25, 100 km thick, with crust of density 2800 kg/m³ over mantle of 3300 and compensation at 35 km. Short wavelengths are uncompensated and give the full attraction of a slab of crust, 117 mGal per km. Long wavelengths are compensated and give nearly nothing, because the mass of the mountain is cancelled by the root beneath it. Where the curve falls between the two is set by the plate's thickness, so a measured admittance spectrum is a measurement of how strong the lithosphere was when the load was applied.

Gravitation

A mountain's gravity says what holds it up

A mountain can stand because the rock beneath it is strong, or because it floats on a deep root of light crust like an iceberg. The two leave different gravity behind them, and the difference depends on the mountain's size — so the ratio of gravity to topography, measured wavelength by wavelength, is a measurement of how stiff a planet's outer shell was when the mountain was built.

$A slow shock still heats the cluster. The energy a Plummer star cluster gains from a compressive tidal pulse, as a fraction of what the same impulse delivered instantaneously would give, against the pulse's duration times the orbital frequency at the half-mass radius. The points come from integrating 1200 stars through the pulse one by one. The lines are prescriptions applied to the same stars: an oscillator's exponential suppression and a power law, each applied star by star at the star's own orbital frequency, and the shortcut of one power-law factor for the whole cluster, evaluated at the half-mass radius. At the longest pulse drawn the cluster keeps 0.28 of the impulsive energy; the star-by-star rules give 0.24 and 0.36, bracketing it, and the half-mass shortcut gives 0.017, 17 times too little. The total is set by the outermost stars, which carry most of the impulsive energy and are always slower than the shock.$ Gravitation

A slow shock heats the halo and robs the core

The textbook treatment of a slow tidal shock multiplies the instantaneous answer by a suppression factor that falls steeply as the shock lengthens. Integrated star by star through shocks of intermediate length, a cluster behaves differently. Its total heating falls slowly, because the outer stars are always slower than any shock and carry most of the energy, and its core does not merely escape the heating: on balance its stars lose energy, which no factor that multiplies a positive number can describe.

$A fall into the Sun from a standing start. The distance of a body released at rest 1 AU from the Sun, as a fraction of its starting distance, against time as a fraction of the fall's total duration, 64.6 days: the exact radial orbit (solid) and a fall at the constant acceleration felt at the start (dashed). The exact fall begins exactly like the constant one and finishes far faster, because the pull grows as the inverse square of the shrinking distance: it reaches the Sun at 79 per cent of the time the constant pull would take. The curve is a cycloid, and the total time is a fifth of the circular orbital period at the starting distance — exactly 1/(4√2) of it — because a straight fall is half of an ellipse whose semi-major axis is half the starting distance.$ Orbits

A fall is half an orbit with no width

Stop a planet dead and it falls into the Sun, in a time that is not a quarter of its year or a half but exactly one over four times the square root of two. The fall is an ellipse squeezed to a line, it spends four-fifths of its duration in the outer half of its path, and in a uniform cloud every shell of it arrives at the centre at the same moment — which is where the free-fall time of star formation comes from.

One detection, and every density it could mean. The number density of interstellar objects implied by one detection of a given size in 8 years, against the distance from the Sun inside which a survey could have seen it, for objects arriving at 26.3 km/s, if the survey caught 100 per cent, 10 per cent, 1 per cent of those passing inside that distance. Each estimate is the count divided by the rate of passages per unit density, πq²v∞ with gravitational focusing, times the efficiency. If ʻOumuamua-sized bodies could be seen inside 0.5 AU at 10 per cent efficiency, there are about 0.05 per cubic AU; if inside 2 AU with every one caught, 7.9 × 10^−4. The inferred density is a statement about the survey as much as about the visitors.

Orbits

A census of visitors is a census of the survey

Three bodies from other stars have passed through the inner solar system in eight years of looking. Turning that count into a number of such bodies per cubic astronomical unit needs the volume in which they could have been seen, and that volume is set by the Sun's gravity, by each body's size and by how many weeks a survey had to catch it — so the first number the census gives is a measurement of the survey.

$The edge of the Sun, computed. The brightness of the Sun at 500 nanometres across its limb, as a fraction of the brightness at the centre of the disc, against height above the level where the photosphere's radial optical depth is one, from the radiative transfer along each line of sight through a grey model atmosphere. Inside the disc the brightness falls gently with limb darkening; at the edge it falls to nothing over about two hundred kilometres. The steepest point of the fall — the inflection point, which is what a solar radius conventionally means — is 335 km above the radial τ = 1 level, because a ray grazing the limb passes through 270 times more atmosphere than a vertical one and becomes opaque that much higher up, at about 336 km. The brightness falls to one per cent 555 km above the τ = 1 level and to a thousandth at 694.$ The observed sky

The Sun is three hundred kilometres larger seen edge-on

The radius of the Sun measured from images and eclipses and the radius measured from its oscillations disagree by about three hundred kilometres, and neither is wrong. A line of sight grazing the limb passes through hundreds of times more atmosphere than a vertical one and becomes opaque higher up — so the edge a telescope sees sits above the surface the waves feel, and every other definition of the edge, from the detector's threshold to the colour of the light, moves it again.

Spaceflight

A plane change borrowed from the Moon

Turning an orbit's plane by the engine costs a fixed fraction of the spacecraft's speed, which is why it is done as far from the Earth as possible. Farther still, at the Moon's distance, a spacecraft is moving so slowly that the Moon can turn its velocity through tens of degrees for nothing — but a flyby close enough to turn it hard also flings it outward, and the useful flyby is a gentle one, in a window of heights the arithmetic picks out.

Two ways out of a transfer orbit. The eccentricity against the semi-major axis of a spacecraft spiralling out from a geostationary transfer orbit — perigee 300 km up, apogee at geostationary height — under a continuous thrust of 0.2 millimetres a second squared, integrated through hundreds of revolutions, for two steering laws. Thrust always along the velocity (red) raises the orbit efficiently but leaves its shape almost unchanged, reaching the geostationary semi-major axis after 64 days still with an eccentricity of 0.59 — an orbit swinging between 17,000 and 67,000 km. A law that points the thrust to reduce a weighted distance from the target in both elements (blue) circularises as it raises, and reaches a circular geostationary orbit in 129 days.

Spaceflight

The thrust that rounds an orbit turns once a revolution

An electric engine pushes gently for months, and the obvious way to point it — along the velocity — raises an orbit as fast as possible and leaves its shape almost untouched. Starting from an elongated transfer orbit, that is the wrong job. Rounding the orbit off needs the thrust forward at apogee, backward at perigee and sideways in between, a full turn of the thrust vector every revolution, and the law that does it can be written down from the equations for how each element changes.

Starlight

A baseline that grows four astronomical units a year

The Earth's orbit gives a parallax a baseline of two astronomical units and never more. The Sun's own motion through the nearby stars gives one that lengthens by four a year without limit — but the stars move too, by as much, so the long baseline yields a distance only for a group whose motions average away, and for a century it was the only way to reach past a few hundred parsecs.

Stars

Brighter for its mass and fainter for its colour

Two stars of the same mass are almost the same star only if they are made of the same material. Take most of the metals out and the opacity falls, the radiation leaks out faster and the star settles brighter and much hotter — so far hotter that, at a given colour, it sits below the ordinary main sequence. The relation between mass and light has composition inside it, and every mass, age and distance read off it inherits that.

Stars

A donor that grows as it is eaten

A white dwarf that loses mass gets bigger, so a binary in which one white dwarf feeds another runs backwards — its period lengthens as the donor shrinks. Whether the pair survives first contact at all depends less on the donor than on whether the stream finds room to form a disc, and for most pairs it does not.

How far a turbulent disc bends the field it drags. The tangent of the angle by which an accretion flow bends a vertical magnetic field at the disc's surface, against the magnetic Prandtl number Pm — the ratio of the turbulent viscosity that drives the inflow to the turbulent resistivity that lets the field slip — for discs of aspect ratio 0.03, 0.05, 0.1. In a steady state the inflow drags the field in at exactly the rate it diffuses back, and that balance sets tan i = (3/2) Pm H/R. The dashed line is 30° from the vertical, the inclination a field needs before gas is flung off along it. Turbulence whose own Prandtl number is of order one bends the field by about the disc's aspect ratio, a few degrees; reaching 30° needs Pm of 13, 8, 4. The same turbulence that carries the gas in lets the field out almost as fast, because both are the same eddies.

Gravitation

A field the turbulence will not let in

A disc that accretes through its own turbulence drags its magnetic field inward, and the same eddies let the field slip back out almost as fast. A disc of ordinary thickness bends its field by a few degrees instead of the thirty a wind needs, so a turbulent disc cannot gather the flux that would let it stop being turbulent.

The observed sky

A day longer than the year

On the Earth a day and a year are far apart, so a calendar has only to count one in the other. On a world whose spin is not much faster than its orbit, the solar day runs off towards infinity: Mercury's day lasts two of its years, Venus's sun rises in the west twice a year, and a locked moon has a day set by its planet. Every calendar problem met on the Earth returns, and some of them return inverted.

$Removals a year, set almost entirely by one percentage. The number of derelicts that must be removed each year to hold a shell at 50 per cent of its critical count, against the fraction of disposals that fail, for a 650-satellite constellation at 800, 1000, 1200 km. Because a dead satellite at these heights stays up for centuries, almost every failure has to be removed by hand, and the removal rate is very nearly the failure rate: at 1200 km, 13 a year if ninety per cent of disposals succeed and 1.3 if ninety-nine do. The removal budget is therefore set by an engineering reliability rather than by the orbital environment, and a percentage point of reliability is worth a fixed number of removal missions a year for as long as the constellation flies. Five removals a year is enough for this shell only above 96.2 per cent reliability.$ Spaceflight

A removal rate set by one percentage

How many dead satellites have to be taken out of a high orbit each year is decided less by the orbit than by how often a satellite fails to dispose of itself. Above eight hundred kilometres a derelict stays for centuries, so the removal rate needed to keep a shell stable is very nearly the failure rate, and moving disposal reliability from ninety per cent to ninety-nine cuts the work tenfold.

Galaxies

A cusp a black hole would sharpen

A black hole that grows slowly at the centre of a dark-matter cusp drags the dark matter in after it, turning a density that rises as one over the radius into a spike rising as the radius to the minus seven-thirds. Whatever the cusp was, the spike comes out nearly the same — and the annihilation signal it would produce is set less by the particle than by whether the spike survived the stars around it.

Cosmology

A cluster weighed against the background behind it

Every cluster of galaxies has the same source behind it — the last-scattering surface, at a distance known to a fraction of a per cent — and bends that source's smooth gradient into a dipole of a few microkelvin. The dipole knows nothing about gas or galaxy shapes, so stacked over hundreds of clusters it is a mass scale that no hydrostatic assumption can bias.

The anisotropy each slope of escape predicts. The dipole anisotropy of cosmic rays diffusing out of a halo 4 kpc high, 3D/(cH), against energy, for diffusion slopes of ⅓, 0.5, 0.6, each normalised to the boron-to-carbon grammage at 10 GV — so all three agree at low energy and part above it. The shaded box is the range of dipole amplitudes measured between 1 and 100 TeV, a few parts in ten thousand to about a part in a thousand. At 10 TeV the three predict 0.0043, 0.014, 0.027: the slope that would let shocks inject an index of two overshoots the measurement by 27 times, and even Kolmogorov's ⅓ by 4. The normalisation of the prediction is uncertain by a factor of a few, through the arrangement of the sources and the shape of the halo; its rise with energy is not, because it is the same slope that the spectrum and the secondary ratio require.

Galaxies

One slope read twice, and the reading that disagrees

How fast cosmic rays leak out of the Galaxy depends on their energy through a single power, and that power is measured twice: in the falling ratio of boron to carbon, and in how unevenly the particles arrive across the sky. The first reading says one-third. The second, taken at face value, says the leak must be slower still — and neither leaves room for the spectrum shock acceleration predicts.

How far an electron can have come, by its energy. The distance an electron or positron can diffuse in its radiative lifetime, 2√(∫D dt), against its energy, for the diffusion coefficient fitted to the nuclei with slopes ⅓ and 0.6, and 1 eV/cm³ of field and radiation. At 100 GeV the horizon is 2.7 or 4.7 kpc; at 1 TeV, 1.24 or 2.95; at 10 TeV, 0.57 or 1.86. The marks are the distances to the nearest middle-aged pulsars and to the Galactic centre. Above a teraelectronvolt the electrons and positrons arriving at the Earth were made within about a kiloparsec — inside the Sun's own neighbourhood of the disc — and a feature in their spectrum is a feature of a handful of nearby sources, not of the Galaxy.

Galaxies

A positron that cannot have come far

A proton at a teraelectronvolt can wander the Galaxy for millions of years. An electron or a positron at the same energy radiates its energy away in a few hundred thousand, and in that time it can diffuse about a kiloparsec. So the rising fraction of positrons among high-energy cosmic rays is not a fact about the Galaxy. It is a fact about a few objects within a thousand parsecs of the Sun.

Gravitation

A few thousand clouds outrun a hundred billion stars

Encounters between stars relax the Galactic disc in a time hundreds of thousands of times the age of the universe, so in practice they do nothing. Put a fraction of the same mass into a few thousand molecular clouds and the time falls to the age of the disc — because relaxation counts the mass of each perturber, not their number. The disc's present thickness is the record of that, and of a bound on anything heavier hiding in the halo.

Gravitation

Torques that add because the orbits hold still

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

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

The observed sky

A storm weighed by a compass needle

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

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

The observed sky

A planet that borrows the wind's field

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

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

Spaceflight

A burn that cannot happen at one point

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

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

A line darker than any temperature in the gas

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

Starlight

A width that knows how bright the star is

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

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

A star tipped over at a thousand times its horizon

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

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

Stars

A soft centre the rest of the core outvotes

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

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

Galaxies

An atomic ceiling set by the dust

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

Gravitation

A black hole weighed by a wobble on the sky

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

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

Cosmology

A map of galaxies none of which was seen

A survey that lists galaxies one by one stops at the faintest it can detect, and at high redshift most of the light comes from galaxies fainter than that. Map one spectral line in summed intensity instead, pixel by pixel and frequency by frequency, and every galaxy contributes whether it is detected or not. The fluctuations of that map have two parts — clustering, which weighs the total light, and graininess, which weighs how unevenly it is shared — so one power spectrum measures two moments of a luminosity function nobody has counted.

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

Cosmology

A line from the wrong redshift lands at the wrong distance

A map of ionised carbon from redshift six is built by assuming every photon at a given frequency came from that line. Carbon monoxide from galaxies at redshift one sends photons to the same frequency, and the map places them five billion light-years too far away. Their structure arrives magnified across the sky and squashed along the line of sight — round where it really is, flattened in the map — and that distortion of shape, which no amount of brightness can hide, is how the impostor is found.

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

The observed sky

A frame fixed before its centre was found

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

A shadow 77 mm across at 144.3 m: an occulter 1.42 m wide and a 50 mm aperture inside its umbra. Side view of an eclipse made by two spacecraft, distances along the axis in metres and widths across it in metres, the vertical scale magnified about fifty times. Sunlight arrives from the left. The occulting disc, 1.42 m across, casts an umbra — the cone from which none of the Sun's disc is visible — which narrows because the Sun is not a point: its edges converge at a rate set by the Sun's angular radius, 959.6 arcseconds, and would meet 153 m behind the disc. At 144.3 m, where the coronagraph sits, the umbra is 77 mm across and the aperture 50 mm; the penumbra, from which part of the Sun is visible, extends to 2.76 m. From the aperture the occulter's edge hides the Sun out to 1.058 solar radii, so the corona is visible from just beyond the limb.

The observed sky

An eclipse held in place to a millimetre

A total eclipse of the Sun works because the Moon's disc happens to match the Sun's almost exactly, and it lasts a few minutes. Two spacecraft flying 144 metres apart can make one that lasts six hours: a disc 1.4 metres across, with a coronagraph sitting in its shadow. The geometry that sets the shadow's size also sets the price. At that separation the umbra is 77 millimetres across around a 50-millimetre aperture, so the formation has to hold itself in line with the Sun to a centimetre — and to two millimetres in January, when the Sun is at its largest.

$The share of white dwarfs whose centres have begun to freeze. The fraction of a population of carbon–oxygen white dwarfs, with masses spread as a Gaussian of mean 0.62 and width 0.12 M☉, whose centres have begun to crystallise, against cooling age, overall and in three mass ranges, in the toy model of the other figures. If a field appears when freezing begins, this is the shape its incidence must take: it switches on first among the heaviest white dwarfs, half of which have begun freezing by 0.5 Gyr, and last among the typical ones near 0.6 M☉, by 2.5 Gyr. A fossil field, present from the white dwarf's birth, would show no such delay and no such ordering by mass.$ Stars

A field that waits for the core to freeze

A field inherited from the parent star would be present from a white dwarf's birth. Yet magnetic white dwarfs of ordinary mass are rare among the young and common among the old, as if their fields were switched on later. The proposed switch is the freezing of the carbon–oxygen core, which stirs the liquid above it. If that is right, the delay is set by when each mass begins to freeze, and the heaviest should go first.

$Larger and cooler, along a line of constant light. The fractional change in effective temperature against the fractional change in radius for a star whose luminosity is unchanged, and for luminosities −10% and +10%, from L = 4πR²σT⁴. Holding the luminosity, a radius 10 per cent larger needs a temperature 4.7 per cent lower: about half the radius change, with the sign reversed. The shaded box is the range reported for red dwarfs in eclipsing binaries against standard models — radii 5 to 15 per cent too large, temperatures 3 to 5 per cent too low — and it lies along the line of constant luminosity.$ Stars

Too large and too cool by just enough to keep the light

Red dwarfs in eclipsing binaries, whose radii are measured directly, come out several per cent larger than stellar models predict for their masses and a few per cent cooler. They are not brighter or fainter. The light is decided deep inside, by mass and opacity, and whatever disturbs the convecting outer layers can change only the radius and temperature through which that light leaves.

Gravitation

Ejected from a globular, merged in a nucleus

A hard binary in a star cluster hardens until something ends it: an encounter that throws it out, or its own stars touching. Which comes first is decided by one comparison — the separation at which the cluster's escape speed is exceeded against the separation at which the stars meet — and the first shrinks as the square of the cluster's velocity dispersion. In a globular cluster binaries leave while their stars are still apart; in the nucleus of a galaxy they merge first, and the heating that holds the cluster up becomes a factory of stars more massive than they should be.

Orbits

The jet that pushes a comet also turns it

The gas a comet sheds near the Sun pushes its orbit, and because the vents are not arranged symmetrically about its spin axis, it also twists the nucleus. In 2017 one small comet's day more than doubled in two months. The twist per orbit grows as the inverse square of the nucleus's radius while its supply of ice grows only as the radius, so below about a kilometre a comet is spun apart before it runs out of ice — and the shortage of small comet nuclei may be the result.

$In a mixed field the torque follows the dipole and ignores the rest. The torque of a field that is part dipole and part quadrupole, with the total surface strength fixed, as a fraction of a pure dipole's, against the fraction of the field strength in the dipole, for wind magnetisations of 300, 3,000, 30,000, using the broken power law fitted to simulated mixed-field winds. Above a dipole fraction of 0.39, 0.24, 0.15 respectively, the torque is exactly what the dipole component alone would give: the quadrupole has fallen below the dipole long before the wind reaches its Alfvén radius, and contributes nothing to the lever. Below it, the quadrupole sets a floor. A star whose surface is mostly quadrupole by strength can therefore be braked almost entirely by its small dipole — and a measurement of the total field says little about the torque unless it says how much of the field is dipolar.$ Stars

A lever set by the dipole and not the field

A star's wind carries away its spin because the magnetic field holds the gas in step with the surface out to the Alfvén radius, and the torque goes as the square of that radius. How far out the field can hold depends less on how strong it is than on how it is arranged: a quadrupole of the same surface strength holds the Sun's wind to half the distance and brakes it at a fifth of the rate. In a mixed field only the dipole reaches far enough to matter — so the field that brakes a star is the part of it that is hardest to measure.

How far inside the door a day of compression reaches. The innermost drift shell at which phase-space density has halved after a day of compression, against where the compression put the last closed drift shell, for diffusion at Kp = 4, 5, 6, 7. With the door at L = 5 and Kp = 6 the loss reaches L = 3.8; at Kp = 4 it reaches only 4.3. The diagonal is the door itself: everything above the curves and below the diagonal was emptied without ever being opened. A strong storm both brings the door in and speeds the diffusion that drains the shells behind it, and the two together carry the loss a full Earth radius or more inside the shells that were opened.

Spaceflight

A belt drained through its outer door

When a storm's solar wind squeezes the magnetopause inward, the outermost drift shells of the radiation belt are cut open and their electrons leave within minutes. The shells inside are untouched by the boundary and by the atmosphere alike, and they empty anyway: the opened region is a sink, and the same diffusion that fills the belt from outside carries electrons out to it. A day of compression drains the belt a full Earth radius inside the shells that were actually opened.

$One cluster weighed two ways, and the redshift where the two swap places. The fractional error on the mass of a single cluster of 3·10¹⁴ solar masses, on a logarithmic axis, against the cluster's redshift. Weighed by the shapes of the galaxies behind it (rising curves), the error is 50 per cent at redshift 0.3 and 750 per cent at 1.5 for a survey of today's depth, 10 galaxies per arcmin²; 26 per cent at redshift 0.3 and 187 per cent at 1.5 for a survey of the next depth, 30 galaxies per arcmin²: the galaxies far enough behind the cluster to be lensed by it run out. Weighed by the dipole it draws on the microwave background (nearly flat curves), the error is 461 per cent at 0.3 and 337 per cent at 1.5 for a map with 10 μK-arcmin of noise; 224 per cent at 0.3 and 153 per cent at 1.5 for a map with 3 μK-arcmin of noise — never good for one cluster, and almost the same at every distance, because the source is at redshift 1090. The curves cross at z = 1.22 (10 galaxies per arcmin², 10 μK-arcmin), z = 0.89 (10 galaxies per arcmin², 3 μK-arcmin), z = 1.77 (30 galaxies per arcmin², 10 μK-arcmin), z = 1.41 (30 galaxies per arcmin², 3 μK-arcmin). Below the crossing a galaxy survey weighs each cluster better; above it, only the background weighs it at all.$ Cosmology

A mass scale checked near and carried far

A cluster can be weighed by the galaxies behind it or by the microwave background behind it, and the two share no systematic error. They do not share a redshift range either: the galaxies run out at about one, the background never does, and a comparison can only be made where both still work.

$The number of lit dwarfs at a void's centre, against the date it was reionised. The number of haloes heavier than 3.2·10⁹ M☉/h that had collapsed from the matter of a 5 Mpc/h sphere by the redshift at which that sphere was reionised, on a logarithmic axis, against that redshift — for a sphere at the centre of a void with 20 per cent of the mean density today (solid) and an average sphere of the same size (dashed). If only those haloes could make stars, they are the sphere's dwarf galaxies. Reionised at 5.3: 4.3 in the void sphere, 195 in the average one; reionised at 6: 2.0 in the void sphere, 121 in the average one; reionised at 7.7: 0.22 in the void sphere, 29 in the average one. Each unit of delay in the date multiplies the void's count by 3.2 and the average sphere's by 2.1: the void's dwarfs sit further out in the tail of the distribution, and a tail is steep. A count of a few galaxies at a void centre is a statement about when that void's gas was heated, to within a fraction of a unit of redshift — provided the threshold is known.$ Cosmology

A void dated by the dwarfs that lit in time

Reionisation did not heat the universe all at once, and the centres of the large voids were among the last places it reached. A dwarf halo there could make stars only if it had grown heavy enough before its own gas was heated — so the number that did is a clock for one void, and a clock that runs faster the emptier the void.

Galaxies

Motions across the sky measure the orbits first

A dwarf galaxy's line-of-sight velocities leave the shape of its stars' orbits free, and that freedom hides whether its dark halo has a core or a cusp. Proper motions add the two components across the sky. They read the orbits' shape almost at once, with a few hundred stars — and they reach the slope of the halo only with ten thousand.

Galaxies

One profile for a galaxy that has two

The worry about the compact galaxies of ten billion years ago was that their growth since might be partly a faint envelope the sky hides. Modelled, the envelope does hide — but not mainly under the sky. A single profile fitted to a core with an envelope reports a compromise at any depth, too large for a tight envelope and too small for a wide one, and the growth it measures is an understatement.

$How long a chaotic orbit stays away, with and without islands. The fraction of recurrence times to a small square in the chaotic sea of the standard map that exceed a given number of iterations, on logarithmic axes, counted along one orbit of 6·10⁷ iterations at K = 1.5 and K = 7 (772,165 recurrences, mean 78; 548,043 recurrences, mean 109). Dashed: exponentials with the same means. At K = 7, where the islands have all but vanished, the recurrences are exponential: the orbit forgets where it was in a few iterations. At K = 1.5 they part from the exponential after a few hundred iterations and fall instead as a power of time, with exponent 1.17 between a thousand and a hundred thousand iterations; the step at the left is the share of visits that simply stay in the square for a second iteration. A recurrence a thousand times longer than the mean is found once in 257,388 recurrences, where an exponential would give one in e to the thousand. Each mean is the area of the chaotic sea divided by the area of the square — 110 when the sea fills the torus, 78 at K = 1.5, where the islands take 29 per cent of it. The islands shorten the average absence and lengthen its tail.$ Gravitation

A chaotic orbit clings to the edge of order

In a chaotic sea with no islands, an orbit forgets where it was within a few steps, and the time it stays away from any region falls off exponentially. Put islands of regular motion in the sea and the long absences multiply by factors of millions: the orbit reaches an island's edge, is caught in the hierarchy of smaller islands round it, and behaves as if it were regular for thousands of steps. The tail becomes a power law, and a rare few absences carry a large share of the orbit's whole history.

Dark companions' masses with and without a gap, as an astrometric survey would see them. The distribution of the masses of dark companions in a sample found by their stars' astrometric orbits, per unit of the logarithm of mass, for two hypotheses: neutron stars near 1.35 solar masses and black holes near 8 in equal numbers with nothing between 2 and 5 (solid), or the same with the gap filled at the density the black holes have at 5 (dashed; 16 per cent of the sample in it). Each is drawn as measured with mass errors of 10 per cent (blue) and 30 per cent (orange). With 10 per cent errors the empty gap stays empty: 0.2 per cent of the sample lands between 2.5 and 4.5 solar masses, against 10 per cent if it is filled. With 30 per cent errors the edges spill in — 4.3 per cent against 12 per cent — and the gap becomes a shallow dip that a modest sample cannot distinguish from a filled one.

Gravitation

A gap that counting can test and impostors can fill

The black holes in X-ray binaries leave a gap between the heaviest neutron stars and about five solar masses, and nobody knows whether it is real or an artefact of how those masses are measured. Astrometric orbits give masses that need no light curve, and with errors of ten per cent a few dozen of them would settle it. The difficulty is not the counting. It is that pairs of white dwarfs and neutron stars, dark and close, can weigh exactly what a gap object would.

Orbits

A kick that writes over the record of the pulses

A star that becomes a white dwarf loses half its mass in pulses, and a companion far enough away feels each pulse as a sudden jolt to its orbit's shape. The wide binaries of white dwarfs should therefore carry the pulses' record in their eccentricities. They would, except that the white dwarf itself is born moving at a few tenths of a kilometre a second, and a kick that small writes more eccentricity than all the pulses together.

The age a handful of craters allows. The probability of each age for a 100 square-kilometre surface on Mars, given a count of 0, 3, 10, 30, 100 craters 50 metres across or larger, per unit of the logarithm of age, with a uniform prior on age. No craters: younger than 45 Myr at 95 per cent, and nothing more; 3: 55 Myr, from 31 Myr to 88 Myr; 10: 158 Myr, from 116 Myr to 212 Myr; 30: 457 Myr, from 382 Myr to 547 Myr; 100: 1,502 Myr, from 1,359 Myr to 1,660 Myr. Each tenfold increase in the count narrows the range by about the square root of ten, from a factor of 2.8 with three craters to 1.22 with a hundred. The counting error is only part of the story: the chronology converting a crater density into an age is uncertain by a factor of about 1.6 on Mars before any crater is counted.

Orbits

A young surface dated by a handful of holes

The surfaces that decide whether a planet is still geologically alive — the freshest lava on Mars, the smoothest ice on Europa — are the ones with fewest craters to count. Their ages are Poisson estimates from a few dozen holes, they cannot be younger than the area and crater size allow, and a fraction of a per cent of older ground in the counting area can double them. What survives best is not when a surface formed but which of two surfaces formed first.

The observed sky

A twinkle that knows the high air and not the low

Lucky imaging keeps the frames in which a reference star is sharp, and that choice happens to favour moments when the high turbulence was quiet, which is why it reaches further across the field than it should. A star's twinkling reports the high layer directly. Choosing frames by the twinkle alone gives a field that is equally sharp everywhere and sharp nowhere, because the twinkle cannot see the air at the ground. Choosing by both buys a little more field for a little less centre, and only where the high air comes and goes.

Starlight

A calibration chosen by the measurement it calibrates

A standard candle is calibrated on stars with good parallaxes, and "good" is decided by the parallax itself — so the calibrators are the stars whose errors happened to push them nearer. Correcting each star's distance afterwards does not repair it, because the correction needs a picture of where the sample's stars really lie, and that picture depends on the luminosity being calibrated. What works is to choose nothing, keep every star with the negative parallaxes included, and fit the candle by predicting the parallaxes rather than inverting them.

The same ruler, and a wave that arrives early. The acoustic oscillation in the galaxy power spectrum — the ratio to a smooth spectrum, minus one — against wavenumber, for no free-streaming species and for three neutrinos, with the sound horizon held at 99.0 h⁻¹ Mpc in both so that only the phase differs. The two agree on the largest scales and separate as the wavenumber grows: by 0.3 h/Mpc the wave with neutrinos runs 0.21 radians ahead, so its crests sit at smaller wavenumber — near 0.2 h/Mpc by 2.2 thousandths of an h/Mpc. The amplitude 0.05 and the damping of the feature by bulk flows over 7 h⁻¹ Mpc are illustrative; the phase is computed.

Cosmology

A wave pulled ahead by particles that outran it

The neutrinos of the early universe moved at the speed of light while the sound wave that became the acoustic feature moved at little more than half of it, and their gravity dragged the wave forward. The drag survives as a phase in the galaxy power spectrum, a shift that no change in the ruler's length can copy, so galaxy surveys can count the species that streamed freely without asking the microwave background.

The trough a smooth fit leaves behind. A trough 150 mK deep, centred at 75 MHz and 15 MHz wide at half depth (dashed), and what remains of it after the same foreground fit that removes the sky, with 3, 5, 7 terms. The fit cannot tell which part of the spectrum is sky and which is signal, so it absorbs whatever part of the trough looks smooth: what remains is 197, 62, 71 mK deep at its lowest, narrower than the injected trough and flanked by bumps above zero that were never in the sky. Measured jointly with the foreground, the trough is worth, in signal-to-noise, a trough 48, 29, 15 per cent as deep with no foreground to remove. What a global experiment measures is not the trough but its projection onto whatever the foreground fit leaves free.

Cosmology

A depth that belongs to the fit as much as the sky

The trough the first stars should have cast is found by subtracting a smooth function from a sky ten thousand times brighter, and a smooth function flexible enough to remove that sky also removes most of any trough as wide as the models predict. What a global 21-centimetre experiment reports is not the trough but the part of it the fit could not imitate, and that part depends on how many terms the fit was given.

Exoplanets

A shoreline measured in light already spent

In the solar system one line of slope four, in the plane of escape velocity against sunlight, separates every world with air from every world without. Drawn against the light a planet receives today it puts the temperate planets of a small red dwarf safely on the side with air. Drawn against the stripping light their star has already spent, it moves them an order of magnitude toward the airless side — and leaves most of them inside a band that the line's unknown height cannot resolve.

$A second peak, seen through three precisions. The distribution of measured core fractions for a population in which 90 per cent of planets sit at their stars' prediction (0.32, with an intrinsic scatter of 0.03) and 10 per cent at 0.65 (scatter 0.08), each planet compared with its own star, observed with measurement errors of 0.04, 0.08, 0.15 in core fraction. At 0.04 the dense group is a separate hump; at 0.08 it is a shoulder; at 0.15 it has become a long upper tail on a single peak, indistinguishable by eye from a population that is simply broad. The current measurements sit between the second and third curves.$ Exoplanets

A second peak the errors have to let through

Whether the densest small planets are a population of their own or the far edge of the ordinary one is not a question about any single planet. It is a question about the shape of a histogram seen through measurement errors as wide as the gap it is looking for, and the number of planets it needs rises fifteen-fold for every factor of three in lost precision — which puts the answer a few dozen planets beyond the samples that first suggested it.

Galaxies

A disc weighed by how far its stars climb

The rotation curve cannot say how much of a galaxy's speed belongs to its disc, because any split between disc and halo fits it equally well. The stars' motions perpendicular to the disc can, with no halo in the argument at all — and when that was done for thirty face-on spirals the discs came out light. But the vertical weighing needs the disc's thickness, which a face-on galaxy hides, and it needs the dispersion of the stars that hold the disc up, which the light measured may not belong to.

A year that asks for more than a day on some days. The observing time requested per day through the year, with each target's request spread evenly over the days it can be seen, for the same programme filling 90 per cent of the year. The telescope supplies one day per day (dashed). On 104 days the visible targets ask for more than that, peaking at 1.6 days per day when the Galactic centre is in its window; on the rest there is slack. The annual total fits; the seasons do not.

The observed sky

A schedule written by where the Sun is

A space telescope that must keep the Sun at a fixed range of angles sees each part of the sky in windows set by the date, and the sky its users want is not spread evenly. A schedule can fill around a crowded window as long as the crowd fits inside it, by sending everything else to other dates. Once the demand for one region exceeds the share of the year that region is visible, no choice of proposals elsewhere can recover the excess — the limit is each window, not the total.

Four satellites, and which four. Two sets of four navigation satellites seen on the sky from below, zenith at the centre and the horizon at the rim, with circles at 30° and 60° elevation. Left: one overhead and three low and spread around the horizon. Right: four bunched in one part of the sky. Each set fixes a position, and the error it leaves is the range error multiplied by the dilution of precision — 2.0 for the spread set, 62.0 for the bunched one. The same four range measurements, made with the same precision, give positions 31 times more uncertain when the satellites are bunched.

Spaceflight

Four satellites in view, and which four

A satellite navigation receiver needs four satellites to fix its position, and a constellation is designed to keep at least four above every place. Four is the count, not the answer. The same four ranges, measured equally well, give a position thirty times worse when the satellites are bunched in one part of the sky than when they are spread around it, and the constellations carry their extra satellites to pay for the moments when the geometry, not the count, fails.

Too slow to shatter. The kinetic energy a projectile brings per gram of a 2,000 kg satellite, against the impact speed on logarithmic axes, for projectiles of 1, 10, 100 kg. Above 40 joules per gram (dashed) the standard breakup model counts the collision as catastrophic — the whole target is shattered; below it, only a crater is made. The speeds needed are 12.6, 4.0, 1.3 km/s respectively. In the geostationary ring, where nothing crosses faster than about 0.8 km/s (shaded), only a projectile of hundreds of kilograms — another satellite — can shatter a satellite; in low orbit, at ten kilometres a second, a kilogram can.

Spaceflight

A ring where nothing leaves and little shatters

Every argument about orbital debris in low orbit ends in the atmosphere, which pulls fragments down in years or centuries. The geostationary ring has no atmosphere, so its removal term is exactly zero and anything left there stays for millions of years. It is saved by a second fact of the same geometry. Everything in the ring moves at nearly the same speed in nearly the same direction, so collisions there are slow, and a slow collision usually leaves a crater where a fast one leaves a cloud.

Stars

A limit written for free electrons

The Eddington limit says a star cannot shine brighter than the point where its light pushes its own gas away, and the push is calculated for free electrons scattering light. In a magnetic field of a hundred trillion gauss an electron is not free. It is bound to the field, it can barely respond to light polarised across it, and the limit calculated for it is the wrong number by a factor of hundreds — which is one of two ways a neutron star can shine five hundred times brighter than it is supposed to.

$The carbon a star makes, and the carbon it needs. For a 30 solar-mass star born with no carbon, two quantities against its central temperature, on logarithmic scales: the carbon fraction its core needs for the CNO cycle to carry its luminosity (falling steeply, because a hotter core needs less catalyst), and the carbon the triple-alpha process makes in the hundred thousand years the core takes to contract (rising even more steeply). They meet at 108 million kelvin and a carbon fraction of 1.7 × 10⁻¹⁰: 1.7 parts in ten billion by mass, made by the star itself, are enough to switch on the cycle that runs every massive star of the present day. The contraction stops there.$ Stars

A star that has to make its own catalyst

Every massive star now forming burns hydrogen through a cycle of reactions that carbon, nitrogen and oxygen catalyse, and the first stars had none of those elements. A massive star made of hydrogen and helium alone contracts and heats until its core reaches a hundred million kelvin, where helium begins to fuse into carbon; a few atoms of carbon in ten billion are enough to start the cycle, and the star settles there — three times hotter at its centre than any star of the same mass today, and smaller, and bluer.

Arms drawn into a disc that has none. Left: 1400 gas clouds spread uniformly over a disc between 3 and 13 kpc from the Galactic centre (cross), seen from above with the Sun (ring) 8.2 kpc out; the two thin curves mark where a two-armed spiral density wave of pitch 12° has its arms. The clouds have no arms in their positions, only in their motions: each streams by 10 km/s in a pattern locked to the arms. Right: the same clouds placed at their kinematic distances, read from their velocities with a circular rotation curve and on the correct side of every tangent point. The streaming has moved them by up to a few kiloparsecs, along lines of sight, and into bands. Lines of sight within 12° of the Galactic centre and 18° of the anticentre, where the velocities carry no distance, are left out. Counted in square kiloparsecs between 4 and 12 kpc, the densest fifth of the map holds 30 per cent of the clouds in reality and 45 per cent in the kinematic map.

Galaxies

A spiral drawn by velocities alone

A map of the Milky Way's gas is built by turning each cloud's velocity into a distance with a circular rotation curve. Gas in a spiral arm does not move on circles: it streams by ten or fifteen kilometres a second in a pattern locked to the arms, so the distance errors are locked to the arms too. Read that way, a disc with no arms in it at all comes out of the calculation with arms.

How deep a hole the Hubble tension needs, and how deep holes are. The typical departure of the matter density from the mean, averaged over a sphere — one standard deviation, σ, from the linear power spectrum with σ₈ = 0.81 — against the sphere's radius, both on logarithmic axes. It falls from 0.55 at 20 Mpc to 0.022 at 300 Mpc. A local expansion rate 8.3 per cent above the global one, the size of the Hubble tension, needs the sphere the supernovae sample to be underdense by 0.47 (dashed), with a growth rate of 0.53. Across the radii the supernovae span (shaded, 100–600 Mpc) that is 4 to 67 standard deviations.

Cosmology

A hole too deep for the sky to have made

If the Milky Way sat inside a vast underdense region, everything around it would be expanding faster than the universe as a whole, and the locally measured Hubble constant would come out high — which is what Cepheids and supernovae find. The idea needs no new physics. It needs a void about half empty across the six hundred megaparsecs the supernovae sample, and the same cosmology that predicts the microwave background prices such a void at dozens of standard deviations.

$An envelope worn down by a young star's ultraviolet. The mass of a primordial hydrogen envelope, as a fraction of the planet's mass, against age, for an Earth-mass planet in the middle of the eventual habitable zone of a 0.1 M☉ star, starting with 0.1%, 0.3%, 1%, 3% of its mass in hydrogen. The star contracts toward the main sequence and stays saturated in X-rays for 1.5 Gyr; the envelope inflates the planet, so it intercepts more of that light and loses mass faster than a bare rock would. The shaded span is the 75 Myr during which the planet receives more light than the runaway-greenhouse limit, when any exposed ocean would be steam. 0.1% is gone at 463 Myr; 0.3% is gone at 1.5 Gyr; 1% outlasts 5 Gyr; 3% outlasts 5 Gyr. An envelope that outlasts the shaded span has shielded the ocean through the whole of the runaway; one that also outlasts the planet's present age has left it a small gas-rich planet rather than a rocky one.$ Exoplanets

An envelope spent so an ocean could stay

A planet in the eventual habitable zone of a small red dwarf spends its first tens of millions of years too close to a star that is still contracting and still bright, with its ocean boiled into steam and the steam being split and lost. A wisp of hydrogen left over from the nebula — a few hundredths of a per cent of the planet's mass — would change that, because the star's ultraviolet would spend itself removing the hydrogen first. The envelope that shields the ocean and the envelope that never leaves bracket a range a factor of twenty wide, and the amounts a rocky planet is expected to capture fall inside it.

$A rare crossing reached in stages. Multilevel splitting on a kicked rotor (the standard map at K = 10), aimed at the event |p| > 450 within 400 iterations. 16 members are run until each reaches the first level or runs out of time; those that reach it are copied back up to 16, each copy restarted from its parent's crossing point with its angle nudged by a thousandth of a radian, and run on toward the next. The levels (dashed) are not fixed values of |p| but curves that rise as time runs out, so a member counts as closer to the event only if it has the time left to finish. 4 levels; the fractions passing them are 0.13, 0.06, 0.63, 0.88, and their product, 0.0043, is the estimate. Each stage is a common event; the rare one is never waited for.$ Gravitation

A rare event reached by cloning the near misses

Counting how often an ensemble of integrations goes unstable works for an event of one in a hundred and becomes hopeless for one in a million, because a ten per cent answer needs a hundred events and so a hundred million futures. Splitting gets there by a different route: wait for the members that come closest, copy them, and run the copies on. Each stage measures a common event and the rare one is a product of common ones — provided the copies forget their parents and the stages know how much time is left.

Gravitation

A relaxation that stops before it is finished

A cold, collapsing system of stars reaches virial equilibrium in a few crossing times without any star meeting another, because the potential changing in time reshuffles their energies. Lynden-Bell's theory predicted the state it should reach — the most probable one. Computed exactly, in a slab of self-gravitating sheets where every force is known, the collapse reaches equilibrium and not that state: the fluctuations that drive the mixing are what the mixing destroys, and they die before the job is done, leaving a profile and an ordering of energies that remember how the collapse began.

Starlight

Where a shrinking star stops boiling at its centre

A young star descends the Hertzsprung–Russell diagram at almost fixed temperature, convective from centre to surface, until something at its centre changes and it turns sharply left toward the main sequence. The something is the opacity. As the star shrinks its centre grows hotter and denser, the Kramers opacity there falls, and radiation becomes able to carry the luminosity without the steep gradient that drives convection. A Sun-like star crosses that line at about twice its present radius, two million years old; a star of a third of the Sun's mass never crosses it at all.

One brightness, a mass for every age. Luminosity against age for young objects of 0.01, 0.02, 0.05, 0.08, 0.2, 0.5 solar masses contracting at nearly fixed surface temperature, logarithmic; the dashed line is one observed luminosity, 0.012 of the Sun's. Every object fades as it contracts, as the age to the power −2/3, so the same luminosity belongs to a different mass at every age: 38 Jupiter masses at 1 Myr, 52 Jupiter masses at 2 Myr, 80 Jupiter masses at 5 Myr, 111 Jupiter masses at 10 Myr. A factor of ten in assumed age is a factor of 2.9 in inferred mass. The boundary between stars and brown dwarfs, 0.075 solar masses, is crossed by an error in the age alone.

Stars

A turnover whose position is an age

The mass function of a young cluster is measured by counting its objects by brightness and converting each brightness into a mass. Below the hydrogen-burning limit nothing holds a brown dwarf's brightness steady: it fades as it contracts, so the conversion needs the cluster's age, and an age wrong by a factor of two moves every mass by about forty per cent. The shape of the substellar mass function survives the error; its position on the mass axis and the ratio of brown dwarfs to stars do not — and comparing those between clusters is how the universality of star formation is tested.

An arrival held without a burn, and released. A body approaching a planet from a heliocentric orbit just outside the planet's, drawn in the planet's rotating frame (the Sun far to the left, the planet's orbital motion upward), in units in which the Hill radius is 0.69. It drifts in along the shear of the differential rotation, passes through the neck at the Lagrange point L2 into the region the planet controls, loops round the planet 3.3 times and leaves through a neck again. No burn is drawn: the capture and the release are both the Sun's tide working against the planet's pull. For Mars one unit of distance is 1.56 million km and an orbit round the planet near the Hill radius takes about a year.

Spaceflight

An arrival the Sun hands over

A spacecraft that reaches a planet with no speed to spare can be captured with no burn at all, passing through the neck between the planet's gravity and the Sun's into a loose, looping orbit. The capture is temporary and chaotic — a few revolutions, and arrivals a few hundred kilometres apart end differently — but while it lasts the spacecraft is already bound, and the burn that keeps it is taken from there.

Cosmology

A null that removes a model and not its family

The plateau potentials that survive every measurement of inflation predict a tensor-to-scalar ratio a few thousandths high, and the next polarisation experiments are designed to reach it. A null result there would exclude Starobinsky's model. It would not exclude the family it belongs to: the α-attractors stretch one shape by one parameter, their tilt stays where the measurement put it, and their ratio slides down as α does, without a floor.

An electroweak field decays toward one line, and helicity decides where it meets it. The comoving strength of a magnetic field against its coherence length, both on logarithmic scales. A field made at the electroweak transition, at 100 GeV, starts on a hundredth of the Hubble length then (1 AU today) with a tenth of the radiation's energy density (1 × 10⁻⁶ G), and decays as its turbulence is processed until the largest eddy is the one an Alfvén wave can cross by recombination — the straight line, 10⁻⁸ G at 1 Mpc. With no net helicity it falls as λ^−5/2 and stops at 0.038 pc and 4 × 10⁻¹⁶ G. Maximally helical, it falls only as λ^−½ and stops at 4.7 kpc and 5 × 10⁻¹¹ G. The shaded floor is what the missing gamma-ray halos exclude: a field coherent over more than a megaparsec must exceed 9 × 10⁻¹⁷ G, and the bound rises as the inverse square root of the coherence length below the leptons' cooling length of 0.6 Mpc. The non-helical field ends 3.0 decades below it; the helical one 4.6 decades above it. Above 10⁻⁹ G at a megaparsec the microwave background excludes the field.

Cosmology

A twist that decides where the field ends

A magnetic field made in the first trillionth of a second starts strong and absurdly small, and its turbulence spends the next three hundred thousand years trading strength for size. How far it gets depends on one conserved quantity — how twisted its field lines are — and for a field made at the electroweak transition, that twist is the difference between failing the void bound by three decades and clearing it by five.

Exoplanets

An envelope that boils down before the starlight strips it

The usual story of how small planets lose their hydrogen starts with the star's ultraviolet light and runs for a hundred million years. It skips the first million. When the gas disc that fed a young planet disappears, an envelope that was swollen and held in by the disc's pressure is suddenly exposed, and it pours off as a wind powered by ordinary heat — until it has shrunk to the size at which the same number near thirty that governs every escaping atmosphere shuts the flow off.

Galaxies

A molecule that forms too slowly to wait for

The atomic hydrogen in a galaxy's disc turns molecular wherever a cloud is thick enough to shield itself from starlight, and stars form where it does. That is an equilibrium statement, and equilibrium takes time. Molecular hydrogen forms on dust grains, so in gas with a tenth of the Sun's metals it forms ten times more slowly — slowly enough that a cloud can finish collapsing before most of its hydrogen has become molecular, and form its stars from atoms.

Gravitation

A population that cannot share the cluster's temperature

Encounters between stars push a cluster toward equal kinetic energies, so heavy bodies slow down and sink. Spitzer showed in 1969 that past a certain point they cannot slow down enough: the heavy population falls away from the rest and becomes a cluster of its own. Stellar black holes are past that point by a factor of ten, in every globular cluster that kept them — and the subsystem they form, not the stars' binaries, is what holds most clusters' cores open until the black holes have been spent.

Precession cycles grow as the inverse of the lowest frequency heard. The number of times the orbital plane precesses between a detector's lowest frequency and the last stable orbit, against that lowest frequency, both on logarithmic scales, for pairs of 36 + 29 solar masses, 10 + 8 solar masses, 8 + 1.4 solar masses with spins tilted into the orbital plane. The count grows as the inverse of the lowest frequency — the slopes are −1.07, −1.02, −1.01. Above 20 Hz, the limit of the ground-based detectors that have heard every merger so far, the heaviest pair precesses 0.9 times, the middle 4.4 and the lightest 6.2. Above 5 Hz the counts are 4.9, 18.7, 25.5; above 1 Hz, 26, 95, 129.

Gravitation

Precessions bought one hertz at a time

A merging pair of black holes whose spins are tilted makes its orbital plane wobble, and the wobble is the only part of the signal that separates one hole's spin from the other's. How many wobbles a detector records is a simple formula: two plus three halves of the mass ratio, divided by the total mass and by the lowest frequency the detector can hear. The detectors that have heard every merger so far stop at twenty hertz, where a typical heavy pair wobbles less than once.

The observed sky

A glow counted in square metres of sunlit metal

Satellites too faint to see one at a time still reflect sunlight, and spread across the sky they add a glow that no mask removes. Its brightness does not depend on how far away the satellites are, only on how much sunlit area is in orbit and whether the Earth's shadow has reached it. A hundred thousand satellites as bright as today's add a few per cent to the darkest sky — and the estimate that the sky is already a tenth brighter rests on an area of debris nobody has measured.

$Where to stage, if the first stage is coming home. The payload a two-stage rocket puts into low orbit, as a share of its lift-off mass, against how much of the 9.4 km/s it needs is supplied by the first stage, with exhaust speeds of 3 and 3.4 km/s and structural fractions of 0.05 and 0.06. Thrown away, the first stage is best asked for 4.1 km/s and the rocket carries 3.5%. Landed downrange — 0.02 more of its mass in legs and fins, and propellant kept for an entry and a landing burn — the best split moves down to 3.1 km/s and the payload falls to 3.0%. Flown back to the launch site, which first cancels the stage's downrange speed, it moves to 2.5 km/s and 2.7%. A recoverable first stage is asked to do less, and the upper stage does the rest.$ Spaceflight

A booster that flies home pays with the stage above it

A first stage that lands carries legs, fins and the propellant to bring itself back, all of which the rocket equation charges at the exponential rate it charges everything else. Recovered from a rocket designed to be thrown away, it costs a fifth of the payload. Recovered from a rocket designed around it, the toll falls by a third — because the best place to separate a stage that is coming home is earlier and slower, and the stage above it does the rest.

A running the measurement cannot yet tell from zero. The running of the spectral tilt, dnₛ/d ln k, against the tilt itself. The ellipses are the microwave-background measurement, nₛ = 0.9649 ± 0.0042 and a running of −0.0045 ± 0.0067, at one and two standard deviations. The three curves are what slow-roll inflation predicts once the tilt is fixed: a running of −(1 − nₛ)²/β, with β = 2 for the plateaus and every α-attractor (and for φ²), 4/3 for the steepest power law still drawn and 4 for a cubic hilltop. At the measured tilt they give −0.0009 to −0.0003, all within a band thinner than a line at this scale, 11 times smaller than the measurement's error.

Cosmology

A drift in the tilt that is the tilt squared

The primordial spectrum's tilt has been measured to half a per cent. Whether the tilt itself changes with scale has not, and slow-roll inflation says why it will be hard: the running is fixed by the tilt, at about six ten-thousandths, ten times below the present error. The one measurement that reaches far enough along the spectrum to feel it — the μ-distortion of the microwave background's colour — would need a precision no planned instrument has.

Exoplanets

A peak that should move with the star

Round Sun-like stars, giant planets are commonest at about three astronomical units, close to where water first froze in the disc. If the snow line put them there, the peak should sit closer in round smaller stars — three times closer round a star of a third of the Sun's mass. Every hypothesis agrees about the Sun, which is why the Sun-like stars cannot test them; and one of them makes a Jupiter at the peak wobble its star by the same angle whatever the star's mass.

Galaxies

A flare rate a hole cannot afford for long

Tidal disruption flares are found in galaxies that stopped forming stars within the last billion years far more often than those galaxies' numbers allow — by factors estimated between thirty and two hundred. Each proposed cause can be priced. A dense cluster from the burst would need ten times the hole's mass of new stars inside a parsec; a triaxial nucleus would give twenty times too much; and any excess of a hundred, kept for the length of the phase, would feed a million-solar-mass hole several times its own mass.

Oceans that a changing G would have boiled. The Earth's surface temperature in a crude climate — equilibrium temperature for a fixed albedo, scaled as the received flux to the quarter power, plus a fixed greenhouse warming of 33 K — against time before the present, if the Sun's luminosity goes as G⁷ and the Earth's orbit as 1/G, so the flux goes as G⁹, on top of the Sun's own brightening. With Dirac's G ∝ 1/t and an age of 13.8 Gyr, the oceans boil 1.9 Gyr ago; with G falling by 10⁻¹¹ of itself a year, the surface is 292 K at 3.8 Gyr. Rocks of that age were laid down in water. Constant G gives the faint young Sun's cooling, 270 K in this climate — a separate problem, which the real atmosphere solved.

Gravitation

A constant bounded by the oceans

In 1937 Dirac proposed that the gravitational constant falls as the universe ages. Eleven years later Teller pointed out what that would have done to the Earth: a star's luminosity depends on G to about the seventh power, the Earth's orbit shrinks as G grows, and the sunlight reaching the Earth goes as the ninth power. Run backwards, Dirac's G boils the oceans less than two billion years ago. The rocks were laid down in water, so G cannot have changed that fast — the first bound on a changing constant came from geology.

Where the tide's energy goes, and what the deep ocean needs. Power in terawatts. The Moon and Sun do work on the oceans at about 3.7 TW, measured from the slowing of the Earth's spin and the Moon's recession and, since the 1990s, located by satellite altimetry: about 2.6 TW is lost in shallow seas, about 1 TW in the deep ocean where the tide flows over ridges and seamounts and makes internal waves, and about 0.1 TW in the solid Earth. The open bar is what Munk and Wunsch estimated the deep ocean needs to keep its stratification against the upwelling of cold water, about 2 TW; the winds supply part of it, the tides — on these estimates — about half.

Gravitation

The tide that holds up the deep ocean

Cold water sinks near the poles and fills the deep ocean, and something has to stir heat back down into it or the whole ocean below the surface would become one cold pool. The stirring costs about two terawatts. The winds supply some of it. The rest comes from the Moon: about a terawatt of the tide's energy is lost not on continental shelves but in the deep ocean, where the tide flowing over ridges and seamounts makes waves on the ocean's internal layers that break far below the surface.

Captures counted over the Sun's life, cluster and field together. The cumulative number of ʻOumuamua-sized bodies Jupiter has captured since the Sun formed, against time, for birth clusters of 300, 1000, 3000 stars per cubic parsec whose bodies were captured at 4.3 a year per unit density for 3·10⁷ years, followed by today's visitors at 7.2 × 10⁻⁴ a year (dotted). The cluster's 3·10⁷ years supply 99.5%, 99.9%, 100.0% of all the captures the Sun has made: 7.2·10⁸, 2.4·10⁹, 7.2·10⁹ bodies, against 3.3·10⁶ from four and a half billion years of fast strangers. Almost everything Jupiter has ever captured, it captured from its siblings.

Orbits

What Jupiter kept of the Sun's siblings

The Sun was born among a few thousand other stars, and while their planets formed they flung out small bodies at a few kilometres a second — exactly the speeds at which Jupiter can capture a passing body. Counted honestly, the birth cluster supplied almost every capture Jupiter has ever made: billions of bodies in thirty million years, against a few million in the four and a half billion since. And billions is still a hundred-thousandth of the Sun's own comets. Whatever the siblings gave the Sun, Jupiter was not how it arrived.

$One impact, three ways to fade. The fractional luminosity of the dust from a giant impact at 1 AU against time since the impact, for 0.01 Earth masses of debris whose largest pieces are centimetre spherules condensed from the vapour, kilometre fragments, or hundred-kilometre fragments, each grinding down as a collisional cascade. The condensate is bright at once and gone within 286 years; the fragments keep the dust above the dashed detection threshold of 0.0001 for 8 thousand years and 9.3 million years. One impact carries two clocks: a flash measured in years and a glow measured in millennia.$ Orbits

Two clocks in the dust of one collision

A collision between two young planets fills the inner system with dust that shines in the infrared far above anything a steady belt could sustain. The dust carries two clocks. The spherules that condense from the vapour grind themselves away within a few centuries, so a fresh impact flashes and fades on a timescale an astronomer can watch. The fragments last thousands to millions of years, and how long depends on the size of the largest pieces — not on how much was thrown out. The share of young stars that glow counts impacts times fragment size; only the flashes count impacts.

How far a change of attitude moves a satellite before the encounter. The along-track shift a 5-kg satellite achieves by switching from 0.01 to 0.1 m² of frontal area when warned of a conjunction, against the warning time, at 400, 500, 600 km, between solar minimum (lower edge) and maximum (upper edge), logarithmic. The shift grows as the square of the time. In a day it is 26.1 to 156 km at 400 km; 3.9 to 39 km at 500 km; 0.6 to 10 km at 600 km. The dashed line is the 556 m needed to bring a 300-m position uncertainty's collision risk below one in ten thousand.

Spaceflight

A dodge made of air

A small satellite with no thruster can still move along its orbit by turning broadside to the thin air, and the question is whether that is enough to get out of the way of debris. Below six hundred kilometres the answer, measured in distance, is easily yes: a day's warning buys kilometres when a few hundred metres would do. Measured in predictability it is no. The density of the air is forecast to about thirty per cent, so the dodge goes somewhere nobody, including the satellite's own operator, can say in advance to the precision the dodge was meant to achieve.

The flow round the Local Group, shell by shell. Radial velocity against distance from the Local Group's centre today, for spherical shells of matter in a standard expanding background with the cosmological constant, round a group whose mass inside the zero-velocity surface is 1×10¹² M☉, 2×10¹² M☉, 4×10¹² M☉. Inside the zero-velocity radius — 0.79 Mpc, 1.00 Mpc, 1.26 Mpc — the shells are falling in; outside it they recede, slowly at first and then at the Hubble rate (dashed, 67.7 km/s per Mpc). At 1.5 Mpc the three groups give 75, 57, 30 km/s against 102 for an undisturbed flow; by 5 Mpc the curves differ by 10 km/s and have nearly rejoined the line. The group's pull is written into the first two or three megaparsecs of the flow, and only there.

Cosmology

A flow too quiet for the lumps it runs between

The galaxies within ten megaparsecs of the Milky Way recede almost exactly as the Hubble law says, scattering about it by a few tens of kilometres a second. The matter they move through is lumpy at the factor-of-several level, and elsewhere galaxies move relative to their neighbours at three hundred. The quiet is a measurement, it limits what the group's own pull can be read from, and it says something about the place rather than about the law.

Galaxies

A halo weighed by counting its oldest clusters

The globular clusters round a galaxy add up to about four parts in a hundred thousand of the mass of its dark-matter halo — in a dwarf, in the Milky Way, in a giant elliptical and in a cluster of galaxies, across five decades of halo mass. The galaxy's own stars follow no such rule. So a count of a few dozen old star clusters weighs a halo that its stars cannot, and the strangest thing about the rule may be that it is less strange than it looks.

How much thicker the cable must be at the top. The ratio of an Earth elevator cable's cross-section at synchronous orbit to its cross-section at the ground, as a power of ten, against the specific strength of its material, for safety factors of 1 and 2. The taper is exp(ΔΦ/(σ/ρ)) with ΔΦ = 48.4 MJ/kg, the same exponential as the rocket equation. With a safety factor of 2: high-strength steel (0.25 MJ/kg) beyond 10³⁰; Kevlar (2.5 MJ/kg) about 6.7×10¹⁶; carbon fibre (3.6 MJ/kg) about 4.8×10¹¹; Zylon (3.8 MJ/kg) about 1.2×10¹¹; nanotube yarn, today (4 MJ/kg) about 3.3×10¹⁰; ideal nanotube (50 MJ/kg) about 7. Only a material with tens of megajoules per kilogram — near the ideal strength of a carbon–carbon bond, ten times anything yet made in bulk — gives a cable that is not absurd.

Spaceflight

A cable with a rocket equation of its own

A cable hanging from synchronous orbit to the equator would let a climber reach orbit on electricity, with no rocket at all. But the cable has to hold its own weight, and a cable that holds its own weight at constant stress must thicken exponentially with the potential it spans. The exponent is the same 48 megajoules per kilogram a rocket must supply, divided by the material's strength per unit mass. The rocket equation has not been escaped; it has moved from the propellant to the rope.

Stars

A lifetime that stops getting shorter

A star twice the Sun's mass lives a fifth as long, ten times the mass a few hundredths. Extrapolate the steep law that says so to the most massive stars known, a hundred and fifty or two hundred suns, and they should burn out in a few tens of thousands of years. They do not: every star above about sixty solar masses lives between two and a half and three million years, whatever its mass. Radiation pressure caps how bright a star can be per unit of its mass, and once luminosity and fuel both grow in proportion to mass, the mass cancels out of the lifetime.

A clump that does not grow until the radiation is outweighed. The amplitude of a dark-matter overdensity inside the horizon against the scale factor in units of its value at matter–radiation equality, both logarithmic, from y = 10⁻⁴ to today near y = 3400. The solution of the growth equation, δ = 1 + 3y/2, stays flat until equality and then rises in proportion to the scale factor; matter domination alone would have grown it in proportion to the scale factor from the start. Over the whole range the true growth is 5.1e+3 against 3.4e+7 — radiation withheld a factor of 6666, which is the interval from y = 10⁻⁴ to about y = 0.67.

Cosmology

A clump that waits for the radiation to thin

Dark matter feels no pressure from light, so nothing should have stopped it clumping in the radiation era. Almost nothing did stop it, and yet a clump inside the horizon at that time barely grows. The radiation does not push on it. It only makes the universe expand too fast for the clump's own gravity to keep up — and the length of that wait is the bend in the spectrum of every structure in the sky.

The static universe is a saddle in the plane of size and speed. Every history of a closed universe of dust and an exactly balancing cosmological constant, as curves of constant energy in the plane of size against rate of change of size, in units of the static radius and 1/√(4πGρ). The two thick curves cross at the static point: they are the histories that approach it for an infinite time or leave it after an infinite time. Above them a universe expands from a big bang through forever or contracts from forever; to the left it rises from a big bang and falls back; to the right it contracts, bounces, and expands. No history other than the point itself stays near it.

Cosmology

A balance that is a saddle

In 1917 Einstein added a constant to his equations to hold the universe still, and the constant does exactly that: there is one size at which the attraction of matter and the repulsion of the constant cancel. Eddington showed in 1930 that the balance is a pencil on its point. A thousandth out and it is gone in seven units of its own free-fall time. The instability is not a flaw of that one model. It is why the real universe could cross the same balance without stopping.

The middle of a cluster cools faster than the universe ages. The time the gas of a cool-core cluster, of central electron density 0.05 per cubic centimetre, would take to radiate its heat at constant pressure, against radius, both logarithmic. Inside 76 kiloparsecs it is less than 7.7 billion years, the time since a redshift of about one when the cluster's core is thought to have settled, and at 10 kiloparsecs it is 0.8 billion years. Beyond a few hundred kiloparsecs it is longer than the age of the universe, and the gas is simply hot.

Galaxies

A cooling flow that never arrives

The gas at the centre of a rich cluster radiates its heat in under a billion years, so it should be sinking inward and turning into stars at hundreds of solar masses a year. For two decades that was the accepted picture and it was treated as a measurement. Then X-ray spectra looked for the gas on its way down and found that it stops at a third of the temperature it began with, while the galaxy in the middle forms stars a hundred times too slowly. Something pays the radiative bill, and bubbles of the right size are visible in the X-ray images.

The same added mass, a different size. A galaxy's half-light radius against its mass, relative to its starting values and both on doubling axes, as it grows by repeated dry mergers with companions of mass ratio 1:1, 1:3, 1:10, 1:30, each companion's squared dispersion scaling as the square root of its mass. Equal mergers keep radius proportional to mass; small mergers approach the limit of radius as mass squared. To reach twice the mass, 1:1 gives ×2.0, 1:10 gives ×3.6. The straight dashed line is the mass-squared limit.

Galaxies

A galaxy that grows faster by eating small

Two equal elliptical galaxies merge and the result has twice the mass and twice the size. A galaxy that takes in the same mass as thirty small companions ends up nearly four times the size. The difference is one line of the virial theorem, in which companions bring mass without much energy, and it may answer a puzzle thrown up by the first deep infrared surveys: the most massive galaxies at redshift two are a fifth of the size of anything like them today.

A valley of limits, and how much of it each experiment holds. The strength α a Yukawa term could have, against its range, with both axes logarithmic and everything above the curve excluded at about 95% confidence. The curve is a rounded envelope of published limits: laboratory torsion balances below a metre, tower and mine gravimetry to a few kilometres, the orbits of geodetic satellites near 10⁷ metres, lunar laser ranging near 4×10⁸ metres at a few parts in 10¹¹, and planetary ranging beyond. It does not rule out a term at ranges under about ten micrometres or above about 10¹³ metres; the limits are weakest where no pair of masses of the right size can be arranged.

Gravitation

A force that can hide at any one distance

The inverse-square law is tested by comparing the strength of gravity at two distances, and every instrument that does so is sensitive over about one decade of range. A Yukawa force with a range outside that decade is invisible to it: much shorter and it never reaches, much longer and it only rescales the constant. So testing the law is not one experiment made more precise but a chain of unrelated ones, from torsion pendulums to the orbits of planets, and the chain has weak links exactly where no pair of masses of the right size can be arranged.

The Moon is late by anything from a quarter of an hour to well over an hour. Minutes between one moonrise and the next at latitude 52° N, against the Moon's longitude along its orbit, with the node at 0°. The daily delay is 10 minutes at longitude 354° and 84 at 222°. The mean of 50 minutes everyone quotes is true only as an average. A full Moon stands opposite the Sun, so it passes the shallow point near the September equinox, and the crescent passes it in spring.

The observed sky

A full Moon that stops rising later

The Moon rises about fifty minutes later each day. That number is an average that hardly any night obeys. At fifty-two degrees north, in late September, the full Moon rises only ten or twenty minutes later for several nights running, so that a bright Moon stands in the evening sky for most of a week, just when harvest once needed it. Nothing about the Moon changes. It is the angle at which its path meets the horizon, and that angle goes through its lowest value at one point of the ecliptic, which the autumn's full Moon happens to occupy.

$A reservoir so large that it does not notice. The fractional increase in the heat of the Sun's convective envelope if a fraction 0.001, 0.003, 0.01 of the surface is held under spots, against time. The envelope holds about 7×10⁴⁵ erg, 58 thousand years of the Sun's light. Spots covering 0.3% of the surface for an eleven-year cycle add 4.2e-7 of that, a temperature change of 0.4 parts per million at most, spread over the whole envelope. So the blocked heat simply remains in the star, and the surface flux shows the deficit. It levels off only after the envelope's thermal time, when the star has adjusted.$ Stars

A spot whose missing heat goes nowhere

A sunspot blocks most of the energy trying to come up beneath it, and a large group visibly dims the whole Sun by a thousandth. Energy is conserved, so the blocked flux ought to come out somewhere else, and for a century observers looked for the bright ring around every spot. There is none to speak of. The heat has gone into the rest of the convection zone, spread so fast and so widely that the surface cannot notice, and it will stay there for longer than human history. For the time being the Sun simply is fainter, without any contradiction.

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