A Pencil In Space

<chirp, chirp> “Moire here.”

“I have a question I think you’ll find interesting, but it’s best we talk in person. Care for pizza?”

“If you’re buying.”

“Of course. Meet me at Eddie’s, twenty minutes. Bring Old Reliable.”

“Of course.”


Tall fellow, trimmed chevron mustache, erect bearing except when he’s leaning on that cane. “Moire?”

“That’s me. Good to meet you, Mr … ?”

“No names. Call me … Walt.”

We order, find a table away from the kitchen. “So, Walt, what’s this interesting question?”

“Been following this year’s Jupiter series in your blog. Read over the Kaspi paper, too, though most of that was over my head. What I did get was that his conclusions and your conclusions all come from measuring very small orbit shifts which arise from millionths of a g of force. Thing is, I don’t see where any of you take account of the Sun’s gravity. If the Sun’s pull holds Jupiter in orbit, it ought to swamp those micro-g effects. Apparently it doesn’t. Why not?”

“Well. That’s one of those simple questions that entail a complicated answer.”

“I’ve got time.”

“I’ll start with a pedantic quibble but it’ll clarify matters later on. You refer to g as force but it’s really acceleration. The one‑g acceleration at Earth’s surface means velocity changes by 980 meters/second per second of free fall. Drop a one kilogram mass, it’ll accelerate that fast. Drop a 100 kilogram mass, it’ll experience exactly the same acceleration, follow?”

“But the second mass feels 100 times the force.”

“True, but we can’t measure forces, only movement changes. Goes all the way back to Newton defining mass in terms of force and vice‑versa. Anyway, when you’re talking micro‑g orbit glitches you’re talking tiny changes in acceleration. Next step — we need the strength of the Sun’s gravitational field in Jupiter’s neighborhood.”

“Depends on the Sun’s mass and Jupiter’s mass. No, wait, just the Sun’s mass because that’s how it curves spacetime. The force depends on both masses.”

I’m impressed. “And the square of the very large distance between them.” <tapping on Old Reliable’s screen> “Says here the Sun’s field strength out there is 224 nano‑g, which is pretty small.”

“How’s that compare to what else is acting on Juno?”

<more tapping> “Jupiter’s local field strength crushes the Sun’s. At Juno’s farthest point it’s 197 micro‑g but at Juno’s closest point the field’s 22.7 million micro‑g and the craft’s doing 41 km/s during a 30-minute pass. Yeah, the Sun’s field would make small adjustments to Juno’s orbital speed, depending on where everybody is, but it’d be a very slow fluctuation and not the rapid shakes NASA measured.”

“How about side‑to‑side?”

“Good point, but now we’re getting to the structure of Juno’s orbit. Its eccentricity is 98%, a long way from circular. Picture a skinny oval pencil 8 million kilometers long, always pointed at Jupiter while going around it. It’s a polar orbit, rises above Jupiter on the approach, then falls below going away. The Sun’s effect is greatest when the orbit’s at right angles to the Sun‑Jupiter line. The solar field twists the oval away from N‑S on approach, trues it back up on retreat. That changes the angle at which Juno crosses Jupiter’s gravitational wobbles but won’t affect how it experiences the zonal harmonics.”

“Tell me about those zonal things.”

“A zone is a region, like the stripes on Jupiter, that circles a sphere at constant latitude. Technically, zonal harmonic Jn is the nth Legendre polynomial in cos(θ)—”

“Too technical.”

“Gotcha. Okay, each Jn names a shape, a set of gravitational ripples perpendicular to the polar axis. J0‘s a sphere with no ripples. Jupiter’s average field looks like that. A bigger n number means more ripples. Kaspi’s values estimate how much each Jn‘s intensity adds to or subtracts from J0‘s strength at each latitude. The Sun’s field can modify the intensity of J0 but none of the others.”

Walt grabs his cane, stands, drops a C‑note on the table. “This’ll cover the pizza and your time. Forget we had this conversation.” And he’s gone.

“Don’t mention it.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • Thanks to Will, who asked the question.

Screaming Out Of Space

Cal (formerly known as Al) comes over to our table in his coffee shop. “Lessee if I got this right. Cathleen is smug twice. First time because the new results from Juno‘s data say her hunch is right that Jupiter’s atmosphere moves like cylinders inside each other. Nearly cylinders, anyhow. Second smug because Sy used the Juno data to draw a math picture he says shows the Great Red Spot but I’m lookin’ at it and I don’t see how your wiggle‑waggles show a Spot. That’s a weird map, so why’re you smug about it, Cathleen?”

“The map’s weird because it’s abstract and way different from the maps you’re used to. It’s also weird because of how the data was collected. Sy, you tell him about the arcs.”

“Okay. Umm… Cal, the maps you’re familiar with are two‑dimensional. City maps show you north‑south and east‑west, that’s one dimension for each direction pair. Maps for bigger‑scale territories use latitude for north‑south and longitude for east‑west but the principle’s the same. The Kaspi group’s calculations from Juno‘s orbit data give us a recipe for only a one‑dimensional map. They show how Jupiter’s gravity varies by latitude, nothing about longitude. We could plot that as a rectangle, latitude along the x‑axis, relative strength along the y‑axis. I thought I’d learn more by wrapping the x‑axis around the planet so we could look for correlations with Jupiter’s geography. I found something and that’s why Cathleen’s smug. Me, too.”

“Why latitude but nothing about longitude?”

“Because of the way Juno‘s orbit works. The spacecraft’s not hovering over the planet or even circling it like the ISS circles Earth. NASA wanted to minimize Juno‘s exposure to Jupiter’s intense magnetic and radiation fields. The craft spends most of its 53‑day orbit at extreme distance, up to millions of kilometers out. When it approaches, it screams in at about 41 kilometers per second, that’s 91 700 mph, on a mostly north‑to‑south vector so it sees all latitudes from a few thousand kilometers above the cloud‑tops. Close approach lasts only about three hours, for the whole planet, and then the thing is on its way out again. During that three hours, the planet rotates about 120° underneath Juno so we don’t have a straight vertical N‑S pass down the planet’s face. Gathering useful longitude data’s going to take a lot more orbits.”

“So you’re sayin’ Juno felt gravity glitches at all different angles going pole to pole, but only some of the angles going round and round.”

“Exactly.”

“So now explain the wiggle‑waggles.”

“They represent parts‑per‑million variations in the field pulling Juno towards Jupiter at each latitude. Where the craft is over a more massive region it’s pulled a bit inwards and Sy’s map shows that as a green bump. Over a lighter region Juno‘s free to move outward a little and the map shows a pink dip. Kaspi and company interpret the heaviness just north of the equator to be a dense inward flow of gas all around the planet. Maybe it is. Sy and I think the pink droplet south of the equator could reflect the Great Red Spot lowering the average mass at its latitude. Maybe it is. As always, we need more data, okay? Now I’ve got questions for you, Sy.”

“Shoot.”

“You built your map by multiplying each Jn‑shape by its Kaspi gravitational intensity then adding the multiplied shapes together. But you only used Jn‑shapes with integer names. Is there a J½?”

“Some mathematicians play with fractional J‑thingies but I’ve not followed that topic.”

“Understandable. Next question — the J‘s look so much like sine waves. Why not just use sine‑shapes?”

“I used Jn‑shapes because that’s how Kaspi’s group stated their results. They had no choice in the matter. Jn‑shapes naturally appear in spherical system math. The nice thing about Jn‑shapes is that n provides a sort of wavelength scale. For instance, J35 divides Jupiter’s pole‑to‑pole arc into 36 segments each as wide as Earth’s diameter. Here’s a plot of intensity against n.”

Adapted from Kaspi, Figure 2a

“Left to right, red light to blue.”

“Exactly.”

~ Rich Olcott

Zoning Out over Jupiter

I’m nursing my usual mug of eye‑opener in Cal’s Coffee Shop when astronomer Cathleen and chemist Susan chatter in. “Morning, ladies. Cathleen, prepare to be even more smug.”

“Ooo, what should I be smug about?”

Your Jupiter suggestion. Grab some coffee and a couple of chairs.” <screen‑tapping on Old Reliable> “Ready? First step — purple and violet. You’ll never see violet or purple light coming from a standard video screen.”

“He’s going spectrum‑y on us, right, Cathleen?”

“More like anti‑spectrum‑y, Susan. Purple light doesn’t exist in the spectrum. We only perceive that color when we see red mixed with blue like that second band on Sy’s display. Violet light is a thing in nature, we can see it in flowers and dyes and rainbows beyond blue. Standard screens can’t show violet because their LEDs just emit red, blue and green wavelengths. Old Reliable uses mixtures of those three to fake all its colors. Where are you going with this, Sy?””

“Deeper into Physics. Cast your eyes upon the squiggles to the right. The one in the middle represents the lightwave coming from purple‑in‑the‑middle. The waveform’s jaggedy, but if you compare peaks and troughs you can see its shape is the sum of the red and blue shapes. I scaled the graphs up from 700 nanometers for red and 450 for blue.”

“Straightforward spectroscopy, Sy, Fourier analysis of a complicated linear waveform. Some astronomers make their living using that principle. So do audio engineers and lots of other people.”

“Patience, Cathleen, I’m going beyond linear. Fourier’s work applies to variation along a line. Legendre and Poisson extended the analysis to—”

“Aah, spherical harmonics! I remember them from Physical Chemistry class. They’re what gives shapes to atoms. They’ve got electron shells arranged around the nucleus. Electron charge stays as close to the nucleus as quantum will let it. Atoms absorb light energy by moving charge away from there. If the atom’s in a magnetic field or near other atoms that gives it a z-axis direction then the shells split into wavey lumps going to the poles and different directions and that’s your p-, d– and f-orbitals. Bigger shells have more room and they make weird forms but only the transition metals care about that.”

The angular portion of the lowest-energy spherical harmonics
Credit: Inigo.quilez, under CCA SA 3.0 license

“Considering you left out all the math, Susan, that’s a reasonable summary. I prefer to think of spherical harmonics as combinations of wave shapes at right angles. Imagine a spherical blob of water floating in space. If you tap it on top, waves ripple down to the bottom and back up again and maybe back down again. Those are zonal waves. A zonal harmonic averages over all E‑W longitudes at each N‑S latitude. Or you could stroke the blob on the side and set up a sectorial wave pattern that averages latitudes.”

“How about center‑out radial waves?”

“Susan’s shells do that job. My point was going to be that what sine waves do for characterizing linear things like sound and light, spherical harmonics do for central‑force systems. We describe charge in atoms, yes, but also sound coming from an explosion, heat circulating in a star, gravity shaping a planet. Specifically, Jupiter. Kaspi’s paper you gave me, Cathleen, I read it all the way to the Results table at the tail end. That was the rabbit‑hole.”

“Oh? What’s in the table?”

“Jupiter’s zonal harmonics — J‑names in the first column, J‑intensities in the second. Jn‘s shape resembles a sine wave and has n zeroes. Jupiter’s never‑zero central field is J0. Jn increases or decreases J0‘s strength wherever it’s non‑zero. For Jupiter that’s mostly by parts per million. What’s cool is the pattern you see when you total the dominating Jeven contributions.”

Data from Kaspi, et al.

Cathleen’s squinting in thought. “Hmm… green zone A would be excess gravity from Jupiter’s equatorial bulge. B‘s excess is right where Kaspi proposed the heavy downflow. Ah‑HAH! C‘s pink deficit zone’s right on top of the Great Red Spot’s buoyant updraft. Perfect! Okay, I’m smug.”

~ Rich Olcott

Revising The Model

Cathleen’s perched at a table in Cal’s Coffee Shop, sipping a latte and looking smug. “Hi, Sy.”

“Hi, yourself. Did somebody you don’t like get a well‑deserved comeuppance?”

“Nothing that juicy. Just an old hunch that’s gotten some strong new supporting evidence. I love it when that happens.”

“So what’s the hunch and what’s the evidence?”

“You’ve already heard the hunch.” <dialing up an image on her phone> “Remember this sketch?”

“Hmmm, yeah, you and Vinnie were debating Jupiter’s atmosphere. Its massive airflows could self‑organize as an oniony nest of concentric spherical shells, or maybe concentric cylinders like that picture on your phone. Later on Vinnie thought up a more dynamic option — cylindrical shells encasing sets of smaller tornados like roller bearings. You shot that one down, right?”

“Mostly. I did admit something like that might work at the poles. Anyway, I’ve liked the concentric cylinders model for quite a while. This paper I just read says I’m almost but not quite right. Kaspi and company’s data says the cylinders are cone sections, not cylinders, and they’re not north‑south symmetrical.” <dialing up another image> “It’s like this except I’ve exaggerated the angles.”

“Doesn’t look all that different to me. Congratulations on the near‑win. What’s the new model based on? Did Juno drop another probe into the atmosphere?”

“Nope. Remote sensing, down as far as 3000 kilometers.”

“I thought Jupiter’s cloud decks blocked infrared.”

“Another nope. Not infrared sensing, gravity.”

“Didn’t know Juno carried a gravimeter.”

“It doesn’t, that’d be way too heavy and complex. Juno itself was the remote sensor. Whenever NASA’s Deep Space Network captured a data transmission from Juno, they also recorded the incoming radio signal’s precise frequency. Juno‘s sending frequency is a known quantity. Red‑shifts and blue‑shifts as received told us Juno‘s then‑current velocity relative to Earth. The shifts are in the parts‑per‑million range, tiny, but each speed‑up or slow‑down carries information about Jupiter’s gravitational field at that point in Juno‘s orbit. Given velocity data for enough points along enough orbits, you can build a gravity atlas. This paper reports what the researchers got from orbits 1 through 37.”

“Cute idea. They’ve built the atlas, I suppose, but what can gravity say about your wind cylinders?”

“Winds in Jupiter’s atmosphere are driven by heat rising from the core. Put a balloon 3000 kilometers down. Heated air inside the balloon expands. That has two effects. One, the balloon is less dense than its surroundings so it rises. Two, the work of expanding against outside pressure drains thermal energy and cools the balloon’s air molecules. The process continues until the balloon gets up to where its temperature and pressure match what’s outside, right?”

“Which is probably going to be well above 3000 kilometers. Hmm… if you’ve got lots of balloons doing that, as they fly upward they leave a vacuum sort of. Excess balloons up top will be pulled downward to fill the void.”

“Now organize all those balloons in a couple of columns, one going up and one down. Will they have equal mass?”

“Interesting. No, they won’t. The rising column rises because it’s less dense than its surroundings and the falling column falls because it’s more dense. More mass per unit volume in the falling column so that’s heavier.”

“Eighteenth Century Physics. Planetary rotation forces columns of each kind to merge into a nest of separate cones. Rising‑column warm cones support Jupiter’s white ammonia‑ice zones. Falling‑column cool cones disclose red‑brown belts. The gravity field is stronger above the dense falling regions, weaker over the light rising ones. Juno responded to gravity’s wobbles; the researchers built their models to fit Juno‘s wobbles. The best models aren’t quite concentric cylinders, because the cones tilt poleward. This graphic tells the story. The rectangle shows a 3000‑kilometer vertical section. The between-shell boundaries are effective — the paper specifically says that mass transport inward from the outermost shell is insignificant.”

“You said the data’s asymmetric?”

“Yep. The strongest part of the gravitational signal came from flow angling down and equator‑ward, 21°N to 13°N.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe the Great Red Spot down south drives everything northward. We don’t know.”

~ Rich Olcott