LIGO, a new kind of astronomy

Like thousands of physics geeks around the world, I was glued to the tube Thursday morning for the big LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) announcement.  As I watched the for-the-public videos (this is a good one), I was puzzled by one aspect of the LIGO setup.  The de-puzzling explanation spotlit just how different gravitational astronomy will be from what we’re used to.

There are two LIGO installations, 2500 miles apart, one near New Orleans and the other near Seattle.  Each one looks like a big L with steel-pipe arms 4 kilometers long.  By the way, both arms are evacuated to eliminate some sources of interference and a modest theoretical consideration.

LIGO3The experiment consists of shooting laser beams out along both arms, then comparing the returned beams.

Some background: Einstein conquered an apparent relativity paradox.  If Ethel on vehicle A is speeding (like, just shy of light-speed speeding) past Fred on vehicle B, Fred sees that Ethel’s yardstick appears to be shorter than his own yardstick.  Meanwhile, Ethel is quite sure that Fred’s yardstick is the shorter one.

Einstein explained that both observations are valid.  Fred and Ethel can agree with each other but only after each takes proper account of their relative motion.  “Proper account” is a calculation called the Lorenz transformation.   What Fred (for instance) should do is divide what he thinks is the length of Ethel’s yardstick by √[1-(v/c)²] to get her “proper” length.  (Her relative velocity is v, and c is the speed of light.)

Suppose Fred’s standing in the lab and Ethel’s riding a laser beam.  Here’s the puzzle: wouldn’t the same Fred/Ethel logic apply to LIGO?  Wouldn’t the same yardstick distortion affect both the interferometer apparatus and the laser beams?

Well, no, for two reasons.  First, the Lorenz effect doesn’t even apply, because the back-and-forth reflected laser beams are standing waves.  That means nothing is actually traveling.  Put another way, if Ethel rode that light wave she’d be standing as still as Fred.

The other reason is that the experiment is less about distance traveled and more about time of flight.

Suppose you’re one of a pair of photons (no, entanglement doesn’t enter into the game) that simultaneously traverse the interferometer’s beam-splitter mirror.  Your buddy goes down one arm, strikes the far-end mirror and comes back to the detector.  You take the same trip, but use the other arm.

The beam lengths are carefully adjusted so that under normal circumstances, when the two of you reach the detector you’re out of step.   You peak when your buddy troughs and vice-versa.  The waves cancel and the detector sees no light.

Now a gravitational wave passes by (red arcs in the diagram).  In general, the wave will affect the two arms differently.  In the optimal case, the wave front hits one arm broadside but cuts across the perpendicular one.  Suppose the wave is in a space-compression phase when it hits.  The broadside arm, beam AND apparatus, is shortened relative to the other one which barely sees the wave at all.

The local speed of light (miles per second) in a vacuum is constant.  Where space is compressed, the miles per second don’t change but the miles get smaller.  The light wave slows down relative to the uncompressed laboratory reference frame.  As a result, your buddy in the compressed arm takes just a leetle longer than you do to complete his trip to the detector.  Now the two of you are in-step.  The detector sees light, there is great rejoicing and Kip Thorne gets his Nobel Prize.

But the other wonderful thing is, LIGO and neutrino astronomy are humanity’s first fundamentally new ways to investigate our off-planet Universe.  Ever since Galileo trained his crude telescope on Jupiter the astronomers have been using electromagnetic radiation for that purpose – first visible light, then infra-red and radio waves.  In 1964 we added microwave astronomy to the list.  Later on we put up satellites that gave us the UV and gamma-ray skies.

The astronomers have been incredibly ingenious in wringing information out of every photon, but when you look back it’s all photons.  Gravitational astronomy offers a whole new path to new phenomena.  Who knows what we’ll see.

~~ Rich Olcott

Squeezing past Newton’s infinity

One of the most powerful moments in musical theater — Philip Quast Quastin his Les Miz role of Inspector Javert, praising the stars for the steadfastness and reverence for law that they signify for him.  The performance is well worth a listen.

Javert’s certitude came from Newton’s sublimely reliable mechanics — the notion that every star’s and planet’s motion is controlled by a single law, F~(1/r2).  The law says that the attractive force between any pair of bodies is inversely proportional to the square of the distance between their centers.  But as Javert’s steel-clad resolve hid a fatal spark of mercy towards Jean Valjean, so Newton’s clockworks hold catastrophe at their axles.

Newton’s gravity law has a problem.  As the distance approaches zero, the predicted force approaches infinity.  The law demands that nearby objects accelerate relentlessly at each other to collide with infinite force, after which their combined mass attracts other objects.  In time, everything must collapse in a reverse of The Big Bang.

Victor Hugo wrote Les Misérables about 180 years after Newton published his Principia.  A decade before Hugo’s book, Professeur Édouard Roche (pronounced rōsh) solved at least part of Newton’s problem.

Roche realized that Newton had made an important but crucial simplification.  Early in the Principia, he’d proven that for many purposes you can treat an entire object as though all of its mass were concentrated at a single point (the “center of mass”).  But in real gravity problems every particle of one object exerts an attraction for every particle of the other.

That distinction makes no difference when the two objects are far apart.  However, when they’re close together there are actually two opposing forces in play:

  • gravity, which preferentially affects the closest particles, and
  • tension, which maintains the integrity of each structure.
contact_binary_1
Binary star pair demonstrating Roche lobes, image courtesy of Cronodon.com

Roche noted that the gravity fields of any pair of objects must overlap.  There will always be a point on the line between them where a particle will be tugged equally in either direction.  If two bodies are close and one or both are fluid (gases and plasmas are fluid in this sense), the tension force is a weak competitor.  The partner with the less intense gravity field will lose material across that bridge to the other partner. Binary star systems often evolve by draining rather than collision.

Now suppose both bodies are solid.  Tension’s game is much stronger.  Nonetheless, as they approach each other gravity will eventually start ripping chunks off of one or both objects.  The only question is the size of the chunks — friable materials like ices will probably yield small flakes, as opposed to larger lumps made from silicates and other rocky materials.  Roche described the final stage of the process, where the less-massive body shatters completely.  The famous rings of Saturn and the less famous rings of Neptune, Uranus and Jupiter all appear to have been formed by this mechanism.

Roche was even able to calculate how close the bodies need to be for that final stage to occur. The threshold, now called the Roche Limit, depends on the size and mass of each body. You can get more detail here.

Klingon3And then there’s spaghettification.  That’s a non-relativistic tidal phenomenon that occurs near an extremely dense body like a neutron star or a black hole.  Because these objects pack an enormous amount of mass into a very small volume, the force of gravity at a close-in point is significantly greater than the force just a little bit further out. Any object, say a Klingon Warbird that ignored peril markings on a space map (Klingons view warnings as personal challenges), would find itself stretched like a noodle between high gravity on the side near the black hole and lower gravity on the opposite side.  (In this cartoon, notice how the stretching doesn’t care which way the pin-wheeling ship is pointed.)

Nature abhors singularities.  Where a mathematical model like Newton’s gravity law predicts an infinity, Nature generally says, “You forgot something.”  Newton assumed that objects collide as coherent units.  Real bodies drain, crumble, or deform to slide together.  Look to the apparent singularities to find new physics.

~~ Rich Olcott

Bilayer membranes - Earth-standard and reversed

The basis for life on Titan — maybe

When the Huygens probe flashed us those images of lakes on Saturn’s moon Titan, people chattered that maybe there’s life in those hydrocarbon “waters.”

Huygens descending on Titan (image courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech)
Huygens descending on Titan (image courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech)

If there is life there, we might not even recognize it as such. Not just because of the frigid temperatures and other reasons laid out in en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_on_Titan, but for a couple of reasons having to do with the physical chemistry of solvents.

Water is a polar solvent, good at dissolving salts and other substances in which centers of positive and negative charge are in different parts of the molecule. Conversely, water molecules interact so strongly with each other that interspersed hydrocarbons and other non-polar molecules are forced away and out of solution. Hence the existence of oil slicks … and cell membranes.

Every kind of life on Earth, or at least everything that a biologist would be willing to call life, is composed of units whose integrity depends upon hydrocarbon moieties (molecules that contain significant amounts of hydrocarbon structure) being forced together in escape from a polar environment.

For bacteria and multi-cellular life forms, the boundary between interior and exterior is the cell membrane (see diagram), two layers of two-tailed molecules laid tail-to-tail with their non polar (black) hydrocarbon chains sandwiched between negative (red) polar groups that face out of and into the polar (red and blue) cell. Bilayer membranes - Earth-standard and reversedFurthermore, our cellular life also depends upon a whole collection of two-layer membranes that isolate different metabolic functions within the cell — respiration over here, protein construction over there, and so forth.

By some definitions we have smaller kinds of life, too: viruses and phages. Many viruses (e.g., herpes) have a non-polar fatty coating. Others make do with proteins to hide their DNA.  However, biochemistry tells us that these structural proteins are almost certainly held together in large part by patches of non-polar regions with precisely matching shapes.

However, Titan’s surface is dominated by a hydrocarbon solvent, a liquid mix of methane and ethane, that behaves very differently from water. Critically, hydrocarbon solvents do not dissolve water and other polar materials. The amino acids from which we build our proteins, the nucleic acids from which we build our RNA and DNA, even the carbohydrate groups from which plants build sugars and cellulose — all are essentially insoluble in hydrocarbons.

If lightning or some other process were to generate some nucleic acids in a Titan lake (as in the Miller-Urey experiment, see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miller_experiment), those molecules would immediately aggregate and fall as a sludgy solid onto the lake floor. There’d be no opportunity for those small molecules to interact with each other, much less find some amino acids to tie together to produce a protein. Life as we know it could not begin.

Well, how about a non-polar kind of life? The properties of hydrocarbon solvents permit two possibilities, both of which are very strange from an Earth-life perspective.

The easier one to visualize turns that double-layered cell membrane inside out. A Titanic cell membrane could be a sandwich with a layer of polar stuff between two non-polar layers. Given that structure, the cell’s internal non-polar metabolic processes could operate in isolation from the non-polar outside, just as our cell membranes isolate our watery internal cellular metabolism from our watery outside. A reversed cell membrane on a Titanic cell would wrap around some very interesting biochemistry.

But things could be even stranger. All hydrocarbons can intermix in all proportions with all hydrocarbons. That’s why petroleum crude is such a complex mix, and why different crudes break out differently at the refinery.  Any non-polar molecule can slide in between any other hydrocarbon molecules with very little effort.  On Titan, then, non-polar materials can diffuse freely throughout those ethane seas.

Moreover, liquid hydrocarbons have very low surface tension compared to water.  At the surface of a pool or droplet of water, those H2O molecules cling to each other so tightly that another object must exert force to get between them and into the bulk liquid.  The threshold force, measured by the surface tension, is so high for water that pond skaters and similar bugs can live their lives on a pond rather than in it.  In contrast, surface tension for a liquid hydrocarbon is only one-third that of water.

What’s important here is that surface tension is the force that works to minimize the surface to-volume ratio of a blob of liquid.  The form with the smallest possible ratio is a sphere.  Sure enough, small droplets of water are spherical.  Hydrocarbon fluids, with their much lower surface tension, tend to accept looser forms.  Water on a tarry surface beads up; oil on a wet surface spreads out.  Scientists think that water’s powerful sphere forming propensity was crucial in creating proto-cells during Earth-life’s early stages.

Suppose that Titan’s hydrocarbon life doesn’t depend on nearly-spherical cells.  Maybe Titan life has no cell boundary as we know it. Titan’s “biology” could be one titanic (in both senses) “cell” with different metabolic processes isolated by geography rather than by membranes the way Earth life does it.

Maybe the lakes closest to Titan’s equator generate long-chain hydrocarbons.  Maybe another set of lakes links those molecules to form complex benzenes and graphenes that catalyze reactions in still other lakes.

Maybe Titan’s rivers and streams carry information the way our nerve cells do.

Maybe Titan thinks.

I wonder what Titan thought of the Huygens probe.

~~ Rich Olcott