Galaxies Sing In A Low Register

Jeremy gets a far‑away look. ”It’s gotta be freakin’ noisy inside the Sun.” just as our resident astronomer steps into Cal’s Coffee.

“Wouldn’t bet that, Jeremy. Depends on where you are in the Sun and on how you define noise.”

Vinnie booms, quietly. ”We just defined it, Cathleen. Atoms or molecules bumping each other in compression waves. Oh, wait, that’s ‘sound,’ you said ‘noise.’ Is that different?”

Susan slurps the last of her chocolate latte. ”Depends on your mood, I guess. All noise is sound, but some sound can be signal. Some people don’t like my slurping so for them it’s noise but Cal hears it as an order for another which makes him happy.”

“Comin’ up, Susan. Hey, Cathleen, maybe you can slap down Sy. He said spiral galaxies have something to do with sound which don’t make sense. Set him straight, okay?”

“Sy, have you all settled that sound isn’t limited to what humans hear?”

“Sure. Everybody’s agreed that infrasound and ultrasound are sound, and that Bishop Berkeley’s fallen tree made a sound even though nobody heard it. That’s probably what got Jeremy thinking about sound inside the Sun.” Jeremy nods.

“Then Vinnie’s definition is too limited and Sy’s statement is correct. Probably.”

That gets a reaction from everyone, though mine is a smile. ”Let ’em have it, Cathleen.”

“Okay. Let’s take Jeremy’s idea first and then we’ll get to galaxies.” <fetches her tablet from her purse and a display on her tablet> “Here’s a diagram of the Sun I did for class. If you restrict ‘sound‘ to mean only coherent waves borne by atoms and molecules, there’s no sound in the innermost three zones. The only motion, if Sy grants I can call it that, is photons and subnuclear particles randomly swapping between adjacent nuclei that are basically locked into position by the pressure. Not much actual atomic motion until you’re up in the Convection Zone where rising turbulence is the whole game. Even there most of the particles are ions and electrons rather than neutral atoms. Loud? You might say so but it’d be a continuous random crackle‑buzz, not anything your ears would recognize. Sound waves as such don’t happen until you reach the atmospheric layers. Up there, oh yes, Jeremy, it’s loud.”

Geologist Kareem is a quiet guy, normally just sits and listens to our chatter, but Cathleen’s edging onto his turf. ”How about seismic waves? If there’s a big flare or CME up top, won’t that send vibrations all the way through?”

“Good point, Kareem. Yes, the Sun has p and s waves just like Earth does, but they travel no deeper than the Convection Zone. A different variety we may not have, g waves, would involve the core. Unfortunately, theory says g waves are so weak that the Convection Zone’s chaos swamps them. Anyway, the Sun’s s, p and g waves wouldn’t contribute to what Jeremy would hear because their frequencies are measured in hours or days. Can I get to galaxies now?”

“Please do.”

“Thanks.” <another display on her tablet> “Here’s a classic spiral galaxy. Gorgeous, huh? The obvious question is, is it winding in or spraying out? The evidence says ‘No‘ to both. The stars are neither pulled into a whirlpool nor flung out from a central star‑spawner. By and large, the stars or clusters of them are in perfectly good Newtonian orbits around the galactic center of gravity. So why are they collected into those arms? Here’s a clue — most of the blue stars are in the arms.”

“What’s special about blue stars?”

“In general, blue stars are large, hot and young. Our Sun is yellow, about halfway through a 10‑million‑year lifetime. The blue guys burn through their fuel and go nova in a tenth of that time. Blue stars out there tell us that the arms serve as stellar nurseries. It’s not stars gathering into arms, it’s galaxy‑wide rotating waves of gas birthing stars there. There’s argument about whether the wave rotation is intrinsic or whether there’s feedback as each wave is pulled along by star formation at the leading edge and pushed by novae at the trailing edge. Sy’s point, though, is that an arm‑dwelling old red star would experience the spinning gas density pattern as a basso profundo sound wave with a frequency even lower than the million‑year range. Right, Sy?”

“As always, Cathleen.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • More thanks to Alex.

Screams And Thunders

Coffee time. I step into Cal’s shop and he’s all over me. ”Sy, have you heard about the the NASA sonification project?”

Susan puts down her mocha latte. “I didn’t like some of what they’ve released. Sounds too much like people screaming.”

Jeremy looks up from the textbook he’s reading. ”In space, no-one can hear you scream.”

Vinnie rumbles from his usual table by the door. “Any of these got anything to do with the Cosmic Hum?”

“They have nothing to do with each other, except they do. Spiral galaxies, too.”

“Huh?”
 ”Huh?”
  ”Huh?”
   ”Huh?”

“A mug of my usual, Cal, please, and a strawberry scone.”

“Sure, Sy, here ya go, but you can’t say something like that around here without you tellin’ us how come.”

“Does the name Bishop Berkeley ring a bell with anyone?”

Vinnie’s on it. ”That the ‘If a tree falls in the forest…‘ guy, right? Claimed there’s no sound unless somebody’s there to hear it?”

“And by extension, no sound outside human hearing range.”

“But bats and them use sound we can’t hear.”
 ”So do elephants and whales.”

“Well there you go. So are we agreed that he was wrong?”

“Not quite, Mr Moire. His definition of ‘sound‘ was different from one you’d like. He was a philosopher theorizing about perception, but you’re a physicist. You two don’t even define reality the same way.”

Vinnie’s rumble. ”Good shot, Jeremy. Sound is waves. Sy and me, we talked about them a lot. One molecule bangs into the next one and so on. The molecules don’t move forward, mostly, but the banging does. Sy showed me a video once. So yeah, people listening or not, that tree made a sound. There’s molecules up in space, so there’s sound up there, too, right, Sy?”

“Mmm, depends on where you are. And what sounds you’re equipped to listen for. The mechanism still works, things advancing a wave by bouncing off each other, but the wave’s length has to be longer than the average distance between the things.” <drawing Old Reliable, pulling up display> “Here’s that video Vinnie saw. I’ve marked two of the particles. You see them moving back and forth over about a wavelength. Suppose a much shorter wave comes along.”

“Umm… Each one would get a forward kick before they got back into position. They wouldn’t oscillate, they’d just keep moving in that direction. No sound wave, just a whoosh.”

“Right, Jeremy. Each out‑of‑sync interaction converts some of the wave’s oscillating energy into one‑way motion. The wave doesn’t get energy back. A dozen wavelengths along, no more wave. So the average distance between particles, we call it the mean free path, sets limits to the length and frequency of a viable wave. Our ears would say it filters out the treble.”

“Space ain’t quite empty so it still has a few atoms to bump together. What kinds of limits do we get out there?”

“Well, there’s degrees of empty. Interplanetary space has more atoms per cubic meter than interstellar which is more crowded than intergalactic. Nebulae and molecular clouds can be even less empty. Huge range, but in general we’re talking wavelengths longer than a million kilometers. Frequencies measured in months or years — low even for your voice, Vinnie.”

Jeremy gets a look on his face. ”One of my girlfriends is a soprano. We tested her in the audio lab and she could hit a note just under two kilohertz, that’s two thousand cycles per second. My top screech was below half that. I could scream in space, but I guess not low enough to be heard.”

“Yeah, keep that spacesuit helmet closed and be sure your radio intercom’s working.”

“Wait, what about screaming over the radio?”

“Radio operates with electromagnetic waves, not bumping atoms. Mean free path limits don’t apply. Radio’s frequency range is around a hundred megahertz, screeching’s no problem. Your broadcast equipment’s response range would set your limits.”

“Sy, those screamy sounds I objected to — you say they can’t have traveled across space as sound waves. Was that a radio transmission?”

“Maybe, Susan. From what I’ve read, we’ve picked up beaucoodles of radio sources, all different types and all over the sky. Each broadcasts a spectrum of different radio frequencies. Some of them are constant radiators, some vary at different rates. You may have heard a recording of a kilohertz variable source.”

<shudder> “All nasty treble, no bass or harmony.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • Thanks to Alex, who raised several questions.

A Spherical Bandstand

“Whoa, Sy, something’s not right. Your zonal harmonics — I can see how latitudes go from pole to pole and that’s all there are. Your sectorial harmonic longitudes start over when they get to 360°, fine. But this chart you showed us says that the radius basically disappears crazy close to zero. The radius should keep going forever, just like x, y and z do.”

“Ah, I see the confusion, Susan. The coordinate system and the harmonic systems and the waves are three different things, um, groups of things. You can think of a coordinate system as a multilevel stage where chords of harmonic musicians can interact to play a composition of wave signals. The spherical system has latitude and longitude levels for the brass and woodwind players, plus one in back for the linear percussion section. Whichever direction the brass and woodwinds point, that’s where the signals go out, but it’s the percussion that determines how far they get. Sure, radius lines extend to infinity but except for R0 radial harmonics damp out pretty quickly.”

“Signals… Like Kaski’s team interpreted Juno‘s orbital twitches as a signal about Jupiter’s gravitational unevenness. Good thing Juno got close enough to be inside the active range for those radial harmonics. How’d they figure that?”

“They probably didn’t, Cathleen, because radial harmonics don’t fit easily into real situations. First problem is scale — what units do you measure r in? There’s an easy answer if the system you’re working with is a solid ball, not so easy if it’s blurry like a protein blob or galaxy cluster.”

“What makes a ball easy?”

“Its rigid surface that doesn’t move so it’s always a node. Useful radial harmonics must have a node there, another node at zero and an integer number of nodes between. Better yet, with the ball’s radius as a natural length unit the r coordinate runs linearly between zero at the center and 1.0 at the surface. Simplifies computation and analysis. In contrast, blurries usually don’t have convenient natural radial units so we scrabble around for derived metrics like optical depth or mixing length. If we’re forced into doing that, though, we probably have worse challenges.”

“Like what?”

“Most real-world spherical systems aren’t the same all the way through. Jupiter, for instance, has separate layers of stratosphere, troposphere, several chemically distinct cloud‑phases, down to helium raining on layers of hydrogen in liquid, maybe slushy or even solid form. Each layer has its own suite of physical properties that put kinks into a radial harmonic’s smooth curve. Same problem with the Sun.”

“How about my atoms? The whole Periodic Table is based on atoms having a shell structure. What about the energy level diagrams for atomic spectra? They show shells.”

“Well, they do and they don’t, Susan. Around the turn of the last Century, Lyman, Balmer, Paschen, Brackett and Pfund—”

“Sounds like a law firm.”

“<ironically> Ha, ha. No, they were experimental physicists who gave the theoreticians an important puzzle. Over a 40‑year period first Balmer and then the others, one series at a time, measured the wavelengths of dozens of lines in hydrogen’s spectrum. ’Okay, smarties, explain those!‘ So the theoreticians invented quantum mechanics. The first shot did a pretty good job for hydrogen. It explained the lines as transitions between discrete states with different energy levels. It then explained the energy levels in terms of charge being concentrated at different distances from the nucleus. That’s where the shell idea came from. Unfortunately, the theory ran into problems for atoms with more than one electron.”

“Give us a second… Ah, I get why. If one electron avoids a node, another one dives in there and that radius isn’t a node any more.”

“Got it in one, Cathleen. Although I prefer to think of electrons as charge clouds rather than particles. Anyhow, when an atom has multiple charge concentrations their behavior is correlated. That opens the door to a flood of transitions between states that simply aren’t options for a single‑electron system. That’s why the visible spectrum of helium, with just one additional electron, has three times more lines than hydrogen does.”

“So do we walk away from spherical harmonics for atoms?”

“Oh, no, Susan, your familiar latitude and longitude harmonics fit well into the quantum framework. These days, though, we mostly use combinations of radial fade‑aways like my Sn00 example.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Jupiter And The Atoms

“Okay, Sy, what’s your third solution?”

“Solution to what, Susan?”

These harmonic thingies. They’re about angles so it makes sense to chart them in polar or spherical coordinates, but when they take on negative values the radius goes the wrong way. You said one solution was to chart the negatives in a different color. That’s confusing, though. Another solution is to square all the values to get everything into positive territory. That’s okay for chemists like me because the peaks and nodes we care about stay in the same places. What’s the third option?”

“One that gets to why these ‘harmonic thingies’ are interesting at all. When Juno‘s orbiting Jupiter, does it feel each of Kaspi’s Jn shapes individually?”

“No, of course not, she just reacts to how they all add togethherrr … Oh! So you’re saying we can handle negative values from one harmonic by adding it to another one that’s more positive and plotting the combination.”

<pointing to paper napkin> “Bingo! Remember this linear plot of J2 where I colored its negative section pink?” <pointing to display on Old Reliable> “When you multiply J2 by C0 you get S220. I added that to four helpings of Sn00 to get this combination.”

“Ah, that negative region in S220‘s middle shaves back the equator on Sn00‘s sphere while the positive part adds bumps top and bottom.” <Susan gives me the side‑eye> “Why’d you pick that 4‑to‑1 ratio, and what’s with those n subscripts instead of numbers?”

“Getting a little ahead of myself. For the moment let’s concentrate on Juno‘s experience with Jupiter’s gravity. One reason I chose that ratio was that it’s pretty easy to see in the picture. In real cases the physical system determines the ratios. Kaspi’s team derived their ratios experimentally. They used math to fit a model to Juno‘s very slightly wobbly orbit. Their model of Jupiter’s gravity field started from the spherical J0 shape. They tweaked that by adding different ratios of J2 through J40, adjusting the ratios until the model’s total gravity field predicted an orbit that matched the real‑world one. J2‘s share was about 15 parts per thousand but most of the rest contributed less than a part per million. Jupiter probably uses multiple mass blobs to make the J2 shape. The point is, the planet’s really a mess but we can analyze the mess in terms of the harmonics.”

“So that’s how you drew what Cal called your wiggle-waggles — you followed Kaski’s Jn recipe and then added some constant to push the polar plot out far enough that the negatives didn’t poke out the wrong side. That constant — what value did you use and why that one?”

“That’s exactly what I did do, Cathleen. Frankly, I don’t even remember what constant I added, just something that was big enough to make the negatives behave nicely, not so large that the peaks vanished by comparison. Calibrating accurately to Jupiter’s J0 would shrink the peaks down to parts‑per‑thousand invisibility. After all, I was more concerned with peak position than peak size.”

“Now we’re back to your 4‑to‑1 ratio. Was that arbitrary, too?”

“No, it wasn’t, Susan. Would it have been closer to Chemistry if I’d labeled that figure as 1s22s22p1?”

“Two electrons in the 1s‑shell, two in the 2s‑shell plus one 2p electron … that’s a boron atom? But you’re showing only one radial shell, not two separate ones.”

“True, but that’s to make another point. There isn’t an electron in the 1s shell, or even a pair of them nicely staying on opposite sides. The atom’s charge, all five electrons‑worth of it, is smeared out as a wave pattern across the entire structure. The Sn00 pattern captures everything that’s spherical. The S220 pattern gets what’s left.”

“But what about the radial nodes? Isn’t that the difference between 1s and 2s, that 2s has a node?”

“Oh there are nodes, alright, but they don’t have much effect. Each radial harmonic is the product of two factors — a polynomial and an exponential. The exponential part squeezes the polynomial so hard that adjacent peaks and valleys are barely bumps and dents.”

“So Jupiter and atoms use the same math, huh?”

“So does the Sun.”

~~ Rich Olcott