A Neutral Party

“Hi, folks, sorry I’m late to the party. What are we arguing about and which side am I on?”

“Hi, Vinnie. We started out talking about neutrality and Jim proved that we’re electrically neutral otherwise we’d spray ourselves apart because of like‑charge repulsons.”

“Yeah, an’ then we got into the Standard Module picture here and how it’s weird that the electron charge exactly cancels out the quark mixture in a proton even though electrons don’t have quarks and quarks don’t have exact charges.”

Jim’s on it. “Almost, Eddie. Quarks have exact charges, but they’re exact fractions. They just add up when you mix three of them to make a particle. Two of them, sometimes. Up‑quark, up‑quark and down‑quark is two‑thirds plus two‑thirds minus one‑third equals one. That’s one proton, exactly opposing one electron’s charge.”

Vinnie’s good at mental math. “What happens when you mix one‑third plus one‑third minus two‑thirds which is zero?”

“Two downs and an up. That’s a neutron.”

“Ups, downs, electrons, protons, neutrons — except for the neutrino the first column’s pretty much atoms, right? What’s with those other boxes?”

“We only see evidence for the other purple‑box quarks in collider records or nuclear reactions. Same for the muon and tau. They’re all way too unstable to contribute much to anything that hangs around. The guys in the red and gold boxes aren’t building blocks, they’re more like glue that holds everything else together. The green‑box neutrinos at the bottom are just weird and we’ll probably be a long time figuring them out.”

“Says here that neutrinos have zero charge, and so do most of the force thingies. Is that really zero or is it just too small to measure?”

“A true Chemistry‑style question, Susan. Charges we can count but you’re right, energy exchanges in a process have to be measured. The zero charges are really zero. For example, Pauli dreamed up the neutrino as an energy‑accounting trick for a nuclear process where all the charges went to known products but there was energy left over. If they existed at all, neutrinos could carry away that energy but they had to have zero charge. A quarter‑century later we detected some and they fit all the requirements.”

Vinnie perks up. “Zero charge so they doesn’t interact with light, teeny mass per each but there’s a hyper‑gazillion of them out there which oughtta add up to a lot of mass. Could neutrinos be what dark matter is?”

“Some researchers thought that for a while but the idea hasn’t held up to inspection. The neutrinos we know about come to about 1% of dark matter’s mass. Some people think there may be a really heavy fourth kind of neutrino that would make up the difference, but it’s a long shot and there’s no firm evidence for it so far. Dark matter doesn’t interact with photons, photons interact with electric charge, quarks have electric charge. If you’ve got quarks you’re not dark matter.”

“How about neutrons floating around?”
 ”Those molecular clouds I’ve read about Aren’t they neutral? Are there neutral stars?”
  ”How about neutron stars and black holes?”
   ”What’s a neutron star?”

“All good questions. Free neutrons are a bad bet, Vinnie — unless they’re bound with protons they usually emit an electron and become a proton within an hour. Susan, electrostatic forces would overwhelm gravity so we believe stars and molecular clouds must be electrically neutral or close to it. Anyway, stars and clouds can’t be dark matter because they’ve got quarks. Eddie, what do you suppose happens when a star uses up the fuel that keeps it big?”

“Since you ask it that way, I suppose it caves in.”

“Got it in one. If the star’s too big to collapse to be a white dwarf but too small to collapse to be a black hole, it collapses to be a neutron star. Really weird objects — a star‑and‑a‑half of of mass packed into a 10‑kilometer sphere, probably spinning super‑fast and possessing a huge magnetic field. From a ‘what is dark matter?‘ perspective, though, collapsed stars of any sort are still made of quarks and can’t qualify.”

“So what is dark matter then?”

“Good question.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • Thanks to Alex, who asked a question.

Quarkery

Susan, aghast. “But I thought the Standard Model was supposed to be the Theory of Everything.”

Jim, abashed. “A lot of us wish that phrase had never been invented. Against the mass of the Universe it’s barely the theory of anything.”

Me, typecast. “That’s a heavy claim, Jim. Big Physics has put many dollars and fifty years of head time into filling out that elegant table of elementary particles. I remember the celebration when the LHC finally found the Higgs boson in 2012. I’ve read that the Higgs field is responsible for the mass of the Universe.”

“A little bit true, Sy, sort of. We think it’s responsible for about 1% of the mass of all the matter we understand. There’s another mechanism that accounts for the other 99%.”

Eddie, downcast. “I’m lost, guys. What Standard Module are you talking about?”

“Do you remember the Periodic Table of the chemical elements?”

“A little. Science class had big poster up on the wall. Had all kinds of atoms in it, right?”

“Yup. Scientists spent centuries breaking down minerals and compounds to find substances that chemical methods couldn’t break down any further. Those were the chemical elements, things like iron and carbon and oxygen. The Periodic Table arranges elements so as to highlight similarities in how they’ll interact. The Standard Model carries that idea down to the sub‑subatomic level.”

“Wait, sub‑subatomic level?”

“Mm-hm. Chemists would say that ‘subatomic‘ is about electrons, protons and neutrons. Count an atom’s electrons. That and some fairly simple rules can tell you what structure types it prefers to participate in and what it reacts with. Count the protons and neutrons in its nucleus. That gives you its atomic weight and starts you on the road to figuring reaction quantities. That’s all that the chemists need to know about atoms. All due respect, Susan, but physicists want to dig deeper. That’s what the Standard Model is all about.”

“So you’re saying that the protons and neutrons are made of these … quarks and things? Is that what comes out of those collider experiments?”

“No on both, Eddie. You ever whack a light pole with a baseball bat?”

“Sure, who hasn’t?”

“The sounds that came out, do you think the pole was made of them?”

“Course not, and I never bought the Brooklyn Bridge, neither.”

“Calm down, Eddie, just making a point. Suppose before you whacked that pole you’d attached a whole string of sensitive microphones all up and down it, and then when you whacked it you recorded all the vibrations your whack set off. Do you think with the recorded frequencies and a lot of math a good audio engineer could tell you what the pole is made of and how thick the casing is?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s what’s going on with the colliders. They whack particles with other particles, record everything that comes out and use math to work out what must have happened to make that event happen. Theory together with data from a huge number of whacks let people like Heisenberg, Gell‑Mann, Ne’eman and Nishijima to the seventeen boxes in that table.”

“‘Splain those particles to me.”

“Don’t think particles, think collections of properties. The Periodic Table’s ‘iron‘ box is about having 26 electrons and combining with 24 grams of oxygen to form 80 grams of Fe2O3. In the Standard Model table, the boxes are about energy, charge, lifetime, some technical properties, and rules for which can interact with what. We’ve never seen a free‑standing quark particle and there’s good reason to think we never will. We mostly see only two‑ or three‑quark mixtures. Some of the properties, like charge, simply add together. It takes a mixture to make a particle.”

“Then how did they figure what goes into a box?”

“Theoreticians worked to find the minimum set of independent properties that could still describe observations. Different mixtures of up and down quarks, for instance, account for protons, neutrons and many mesons.”

Vinnie, at last. “Hi, folks, sorry I’m late to the party. What are we arguing about and which side am I on?”

Higgs candidate LHC event trace
Electrons (green) and muons (red) exiting the event

~~ Rich Olcott

Neutral

It’s that kind of an afternoon. Finished up one project, don’t feel much like starting another. Spring rain outside so instead of walking to Al’s for coffee I take the elevator down to Pizza Eddie’s on 2. Looks like other folks have the same feeling. “Afternoon, all. What’s the current topic of conversation?”

“Well, Sy, it started out as Star Wars versus Star Trek but then Jim said he could care less and Susan said that meant he did care and he said no, he’s ambivalent and she said that still meant he cared, and—”

“I get it, Eddie. Susan, why does ‘ambivalent‘ mean Jim cares?”

“Chemistry, Sy. ‘Valence‘ means ‘bonding‘ and ‘ambi-‘ means ‘both‘ so ‘ambi‑valent‘ means ‘bonded to both‘.”

“But Susan, ambidextrous means able to use both hands, not unable to use either hand. I want to say I don’t particularly like or dislike either one.”

“It’s like trying to decide between fire ants or hornets. You could say ‘No‑win,’ right?”

“No, that’s not it, either, Eddie. That’s ‘everybody loses.’ I’m smack in the middle.”

“Sounds like absolute neutrality. Hard to get there.”

“Don’t look at Chemistry. If I take an acid solution and add just enough base to get to neutral pH, there’s still tenth‑micromolar concentrations of acid and base in there. I guess we could call that ambivalent.”

“Neutrality’s hard for humans and chemicals, yeah, but that’s where the Universe is.”

“Why do you say that, Jim?”

“Because we’ve got proof right in front of us. Look, planets and stars and people exist as distinct objects, right? They’re not a finely-divided mist.”

“So?”

“So if the Universe were not exactly electrically neutral, then opposite charges repelling would split everything apart.”
 ”Wait, nothing would have a chance to form in the first place.”
   ”Wait, couldn’t you have lumps of like 99 positives and 100 negatives or whatever that just cancel out?”

“Eddie, when you say ‘cancel out’ you’re still talking about being absolutely neutral at the lump level. It’s like this table salt that has positive sodium ions and negative chlorides but the crystals are neutral or we’d get sparks when I pour some out like this.”
 ”Hey, don’t waste the salt. Costs money.”

“I still think it’s weird how all electrons have the same charge and it’s exactly the same as the proton charge. Protons are made of quarks, right, and electrons aren’t. So how can you take three of something and have that add up to exactly one of something different?”

“I can give you Feynman and Wheeler’s answer to part of that, Susan. The electron has an anti‑partner, the positron, which is exactly like the electron in every way except it has the opposite charge. When electron and positron meet they annihilate to produce a burst of high‑energy photons. But there’s a flip side — high‑energy photons sometimes interact to make an electron‑positron pair. Feynman and Wheeler were both jokers. They suggested that a positron could be an electron traveling backward in time. Wheeler said, ‘Maybe they’re all the same electron,’ zig‑zagging across eternity. But that doesn’t account for the quarks. A proton has two up‑quarks, each with a charge of negative 2/3 electron, and one down‑quark with a charge of positive 1/3 electron. Add ’em up — you exactly neutralize one electron. Fun, huh?”

“Fun, Jim, but I’m a chemist. On a two-pan balance I can weigh out equal quantities of molasses and rock dust but I don’t expect them to interact with any simple mathematical relationship. Why should the quark’s charge be any exact multiple or divisor of the electron’s? And why is the electron charge the size it is instead of some other number?”

“Well, there you’ve got me. The quantum chromodynamics Standard Model has been amazingly successful for quantitative predictions, but not so good for explaining things outside of its own terms. The math lays out the relationship between quark and electron charge, but doesn’t give us a physical ‘why.’ The theory has 19 ‘adjustable constants’ but no particular reason why they should have the specific values that fit the observations. Also, the theory doesn’t include gravity. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Sounds like you’re ambivalent about the theory.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Galaxies Fluffy And Faint

Cathleen’s at the coffee shop’s baked goods counter. “A lemon scone, please, Al.”

I’m next in line. “Lemon sounds good to me, too. It’s a warm day.”

The Pinwheel Galaxy, NGC 5457
Credit: ESA/Hubble

“Sure thing, Sy. Hey, got a question for you, Cathleen, you bein’ an Astronomer and all. I just saw an Astronomy news item about a fluffy galaxy and they mentioned a faint galaxy. Are they the same and why the excitement?”

“Not the same, Al. It’ll be easier to show you in pictures. Sy, may I borrow Old Reliable?”

“Sure, here.”

“Thanks. OK, Al, here’s a classic ‘grand design‘ spiral galaxy, NGC 5457, also known as The Pinwheel. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. Hey, I’ve wondered — what does ‘NGC‘ stand for, National Galaxy Collection or something?”

“Nope. The ‘G‘ doesn’t even stand for ‘Galaxy‘. It’s ‘New General Catalog‘. Anyway, here’s NGC 2775, one of our prettiest fluffies. Doesn’t look much like the Pinwheel or Andromeda, does it?”

NGC 2775
Credit: NASA / ESA / Hubble / J. Lee / PHANGS-HST Team / Judy Schmidt

“Nah, those guys got nice spiral arms that sort of grow out of the center. This one looks like there’s an inside edge to all the complicated stuff. And it’s got what, a hundred baby arms.”

“The blue dots in those ‘baby arms’ are young blue stars. They’re separated by dark lanes of dust just like the dark lanes in classic spirals. The difference is that these lanes are much closer together. The grand design spirals are popular photography subjects in your astronomy magazines, Al, but they’re only about 10% of all spirals. I’ll bet your news item was about 2775 because we’re just coming to see how mysterious this one is.”

“What’s mysterious about it?”

“That central region. It’s huge and smooth, barely any visible dust lanes and no blue dots. It’s bright in the infra‑red, which is what you’d expect from a population of old red stars. In the ultra‑violet, though, it’s practically empty — just a small dot at the center. UV is high‑energy light. It generally comes from a young star or a recent nova or a black hole’s accretion disk. The dot is probably a super-massive back hole. but its image is just a tiny fraction of the smooth region’s width. With a billion red stars in the way it’s hard to see how the black hole’s gravity field could have cleaned up all the dust that should be in there. Li’l Fluffy here is just begging for some Astrophysics PhD candidates to burn computer time trying to explain it.”

NGC 1052-DF2
Credit: NASA, ESA, and P. van Dokkum (Yale University)

“What about Li’l Faint?”

“That’s probably this one, NGC 1052-DF2. Looks a bit different, doesn’t it?

“I’ll say. It’s practically transparent. Is it a thing at all or just a smudge on the lens?”

“Not a smudge. We’ve got multiple images in different wavelength ranges from multiple observatories, and there’s another similar object, NGC 1052-DF4, in the same galaxy group. We even have measurements from individual stars and clusters in there. The discovery paper claimed that DF2 is so spread out because it lacks the dark matter whose gravity compacts most galaxies. That led to controversy, of course.”

“Is there anything in Science that doesn’t? What’s this argument?”

“It hinges on distance, Sy. The object is about as wide as the Milky Way but we see only 1% as many stars. Does their mass exert enough gravitational force to hold the structure together? There’s a fairly good relationship between a galaxy’s mass and its intrinsic brightness — more stars means more emitting surface and more mass. We know how quickly apparent brightness drops with distance. From other data the authors estimated DF2 is 65 lightyears away and from its apparent brightness they back‑calculated its mass to be just about what you’d expect from its stars alone. No dark matter required to prevent fly‑aways. Another group using a different technique estimated 42 lightyears. That suggested a correspondingly smaller luminous mass and therefore a significant amount of dark matter in the picture. Sort of. They’re still arguing.”

“But why does it exist at all?”

“That’s another question.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • Thanks to Oriole for suggesting this topic.

Big Bang│Gnab Gib?

Anne’s an experienced adventurer, but almost exploding the Earth when she tried transporting herself into an anti‑Universe was a jolt. It takes her a while to calm down. Fortunately, I’m there to help. <long soothing pause> “Sy, I promise that’s one direction I’ll never ‘push’ to go again.”

“No reason to go there and big reasons not to. <long friendly pause> Hmm. You’ve told me that when you use your superpower to go somewhere, you can feel whether there’d be a wall or something in the way. That’s how you know to get to a safer location before you ‘push.’ Didn’t you get that feeling before you went to meet anti‑Anne?”

“No, it felt just like just any other ‘push.’ Why?”

“I’m curious. Could you feel for just a second in the direction opposite to anti‑Anne? For Heaven sake don’t go there! Just look, OK?”

“All right … <shiver> Now, that’s weird. There’s nothing there, except there’s not even a there there, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do, and you’ve just given us one more clue to where you almost went. Whoa, no more shivering, you’re back here safe where there’s normal matter and real locations, OK? <another soothing pause> That’s better. So, I was assuming a binary situation, an anti‑Universe obeying a Charge‑Parity‑Time symmetry that’s exactly the reverse of ours. The math allows only the two possibilities. You observed ‘no there there’ when you tried for a third option. That’s support for the assumption.”

“How could we have even two Universes?”

“It goes back to the high‑energy turmoil at the Big Bang’s singularity. Symmetry says the chaos in the singularity should have generated as many anti‑atoms, umm, as many positrons and anti‑protons, as their normal equivalents.”

“Positrons?”

“Anti‑electrons. Long story. The big puzzle is, where did those anti‑guys go? One proposal that’s been floating around is that while normal matter and our normal CPT symmetry expanded from the singularity to make our Universe, the anti‑matter and reversed symmetry expanded in some kind of opposite direction to make the anti‑Universe. You may have found that direction. Here, I’ll do a quick sketch on Old Reliable.”

“Looks like some of the banged‑up painted‑up battle shields I saw a thousand years ago.”

“It does, a little. Over on the top left is our normal‑matter Universe with galaxies and all, expanding out of the singularity at time zero. Time runs vertically upward from that point. I can’t draw three spatial dimensions so just one expanding sideways will have to do, OK?”

“No problem, I do x‑y‑z‑t thinking all the time when I use my superpower.”

“Of course you do. Well, coming down out of the singularity into minus‑time we’ve got the anti‑Universe. I’ve reversed the color scheme because why not, although I expect their colors would look exactly like ours because we know that photons are their own anti‑particles and should behave the same in both Universes.”

“They do. Anti‑Anne looked just like me, white satin and all.”

“Excellent, another clue. Anyway, see how minus‑time increases in the negative direction as the anti‑Universe expands just like plus‑time increases positively for us?”

“Mmm, yeah, but we only call them minus and plus because we’re standing outside of both of them. Looking from the inside, I’d say time in each increases towards expansion.”

“Good insight, you’re way ahead of me. That’s what I’ve drawn on the right side of the sketch. The two are perfectly equivalent except for CPT and anti‑CPT. Time direction, x‑y‑z space directions, even spin orientation, can all be made parallel between the two. However, the charges are reversed. Anti‑Anne’s atoms have positrons where we have electrons, negative anti‑protons where we have positive protons. When anti‑matter meets matter, there’s massive energy release from equivalent charged particles neutralizing each other.”

“Wait. Gravity. Wouldn’t anti‑matter particles repel each other? Your picture has galaxies and they couldn’t grow up with everything backwards.”

“Nope, you’re carrying this model too far. The only thing that’s reversed is charge. Masses work the same in each symmetry. Gravity pays attention to mass, not charge, and it’s always a force of attraction.”

“Anyway, not going back there.”

“Good.”

~~ Rich Olcott

The Edges of The Universe

<chirp, chirp> “Moire here.”

“Um, Uncle Sy?”

“Hi, Teena! I didn’t know you knew my phone number. It’s past your bedtime. How are you? Is everything OK?”

“I’m fine. Mommie dialed you for me. I had a question she said you could answer better than her and that would be my bedtime story.”

“Your Mommie’s a very smart person in several ways. What’s your question?”

“Where’s the edge of the Universe?”

“Whoa! Where’d that question come from?”

“Well, I was lying on my bed and I thought, the edge of me is my skin and the edge of my room is the walls and the edge of our block is the street but I don’t know what any of the bigger edges are so I asked Mommie and she said to ask you. She’s writing something.”

“Of course she is. One answer is you’re smack on an edge, but some people think that’s a wrong answer so let’s talk about all the edges, OK?”

“On an edge??!? I’m in the middle of my bed.”

“Hey, I heard you sit up. Lie back down, this is supposed to be a bedtime story so we’re supposed to be calm, OK? All right, now. Once upon a time —”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now hush and let me start. Once upon a time, people thought that the sky was a solid bowl or maybe a curtain that came down all the way to meet the Earth just over the horizon, and that was the edge of the Universe. But then people started traveling and they realized that the horizon moved when they did.”

“Like rainbows.”

“Exactly like rainbows. Eventually they’d traveled everywhere they could walk. As they went they made maps. According to the maps, the world they knew about was surrounded by ocean so the edge of the Universe was the ocean.”

“Except for Moana’s people that crossed the ocean.”

“Right, but even they only went from island to island. Their version of a map was as flat as the paper maps the European and Chinese explorers used.”

“But the world is really round like my world ball.”

“Yes, it is. It took humans a long time to accept that, because it meant their world couldn’t be all there is. A round world would have to float in space. Think about this — what’s the edge of our world?”

“Umm … the air?”

“Very good, sweetie. Way up, 60 miles high, the air gets so thin that we call that height the Edge of Space.”

“That’s the inside edge of space. Where’s the outside edge of space?”

“It’s moved outward as our astronomers have gotten better at looking far away. For a long time they thought that the outermost stars in our Milky Way galaxy marked the edge of the Universe. Then an astronomer named Edwin Hubble—”

“Oh, like the Hubble Space Telescope that made the pretty pictures in my ‘Stronomy book!”

“Mm-hm, the Hubble was named for him because he did such important work. Anyway, he showed that what people thought were stardust clouds inside the Milky Way were actually other galaxies like ours but far, far away. With the Hubble and other telescopes we’ve pushed out our known Universe to … I don’t even know the name of such a big number.”

“So that’s the edge?”

“We don’t think so, but we don’t know. Maybe space and galaxies go on forever, maybe galaxies peter out but space goes on, maybe something weird. But there’s a special ‘direction’ that we think does have an edge, maybe two.”

<yawn> “What’s that?”

“Time. One edge was the Big Bang, fourteen billion years ago. We’re pretty sure of that one. The scientists and philosophers argue about whether there’s another edge.”

“Wouldn’t jus’ be f’rever?”

“Mr Einstein thought it would. In fact, he thought that the future is as solidly real as the past is and we’re just watching from the windows of a train rolling along the time tracks.”

“Don’ like that, wanna do diffren’ things.”

“Me, too, sweetie. I prefer the idea that the future doesn’t exist yet; we’re on the front edge of time, building as we go. Dream about that, OK?”

“Okayyyyyy

~~ Rich Olcott

Avoiding A Big Bang

<fffshwwPOP!!> … <thump!> “Ow!”

That white satin dress, that molten‑silver voice. “Anne? Is that you? Are you OK?”

“Yeah, Sy, it’s me. I’m all right … I think.”

“What happened? Where’ve you been all year? Or considering it’s you I should ask, when’ve you been?”

“You know the line between history and archaeology?”

“Whether or not there was writing?”

“Sort of. Anyway, I’ve crossed it dozens of times. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen. The professionals sure wouldn’t.”

“Wait, does the dress go with you? White satin wasn’t a thing centuries ago.”

“Oh, it changes like camouflage when I travel. That’s one reason I like this era — white satin’s so much nicer than muddy homespun or deerskins, mmm?”

“Mm‑hmmm. I suppose that’s why the dress didn’t get messed up when you erupted here. What led to that, anyway?”

“I don’t know. It probably had something to do with me experimenting with my ‘pushing’ superpower, going for a direction I hadn’t tried before. I’ve always known that front‑and‑back ‘pushing’ moves me forward or backward in time. You helped me understand that a ‘push’ to the side shifts me between alternate Universes at different probability levels. ‘Pushing’ up or down changes my size. Well, this morning I figured out a different direction to ‘push’ and that was weird.”

“You’ve described all three normal directions of space, so a new one would have to be weird.”

“I know what that direction feels like even if I can’t describe it. What was weird is what happened when I tried ‘pushing’ there. Things came into focus a little slowly. That may be what saved me. What I saw in front of me was … me. Dress, hair, everything, reflected left‑to‑right like looking in a mirror but our movements were a little different. Things were sharpening up and suddenly this sheet of fire flared between us and it blew me … here, to your office. What was all that about, Sy?”

“A couple of questions first. That sheet of fire — did it have a color or was it pure white?”

“Not white, more of a bright blue-violet.”

“And did it start like <snap> or were there preliminary sparkles?”

“Umm .. yes, there were sparkles! In fact I was already ‘pushing’ away when the bad flare‑up started. How did you know?”

“Just following a train of thought. I’m hypothesizing here, but I think you just barely escaped blowing the Earth apart.”

“WHAAATT!!?!”

“It all goes back to the Big Bang and our belief that physical phenomena have fundamental symmetries. Back in the Universe’s first few skillionths of a second the energy density was so high that the electromagnetic and nuclear forces were symmetry‑related. Any twitch in the chaotic unified force field was equally likely to become a proton or an anti‑proton, matter or anti‑matter. So why is anti‑matter so rare in our Universe?”

“Maybe the matter atoms just wiped out all the anti‑matter.”

“Uh‑uh. By symmetry, there should have been exactly as much of each sort. If the wipe‑out had happened there wouldn’t have been enough matter left over to make a single galaxy, much less billions of them. But here we are. Explaining that is one of the biggest challenges in cosmology.”

“You say ‘symmetry‘ like that’s a sacred principle.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘sacred‘ but the most accurate physical theory we know of is based on the product of Charge, Parity and Time symmetries being constant in our Universe. If you take a normal atom and somehow reverse both its charge and spin to get an anti‑matter atom, the symmetries say that the reversed atom must travel backward in time. From an outsider’s perspective it’d be like the original atom and the anti‑atom rush together, annihilate each other and release the enormous amount of energy that accomplished the reversal. Anne, I think you almost ‘pushed’ yourself into an anti‑Universe with a reversed CPT symmetry.”

“Those blue-violet flashes…”

“…were atoms from the air you carried with you, colliding with anti‑atoms in your anti‑twin’s air. Good thing those micro‑collisions released enough energy to get you back here before…”

“…I touched anti‑Anne or even breathed! <shiver> That would have been…”

“…BLOOEY!”

“This is nicer, mmm?”

~~ Rich Olcott

Free Energy, or Not

From: Richard Feder <rmfeder@fortleenj.com>
To: Sy Moire <sy@moirestudies.com>
Subj: Questions

What’s this about “free energy”? Is that energy that’s free to move around anywhere? Or maybe the vacuum energy that this guy said is in the vacuum of space that will transform the earth into a wonderful world of everything for free for everybody forever once we figure out how to handle the force fields and pull energy out of them?


From: Sy Moire <sy@moirestudies.com>
To: Richard Feder <rmfeder@fortleenj.com>

Subj: Re: Questions

Well, Mr Feder, as usual you have a lot of questions all rolled up together. I’ll try to take one at a time.

It’s clear you already know that to make something happen you need energy. Not a very substantial definition, but then energy is an abstract thing it took humanity a couple of hundred years to get our minds around and we’re still learning.

Physics has several more formal definitions for “energy,” all clustered around the ability to exert force to move something and/or heat something up. The “and/or” is the kicker, because it turns out you can’t do just the moving. As one statement of the Second Law of Thermodynamics puts it, “There are no perfectly efficient processes.”

For example, when your car’s engine burns a few drops of gasoline in the cylinder, the liquid becomes a 22000‑times larger volume of hot gas that pushes the piston down in its power stroke to move the car forward. In the process, though, the engine heats up (wasted energy), gases exiting the cylinder are much hotter than air temperature (more wasted energy) and there’s friction‑generated heat all through the drive train (even more waste). Improving the drive train’s lubrication can reduce friction, but there’s no way to stop energy loss into heated-up combustion product molecules.

Two hundred years of effort haven’t uncovered a usable loophole in the Second Law. However, we have been able to quantify it. Especially for practically important chemical reactions, like burning gasoline, scientists can calculate how much energy the reaction product molecules will retain as heat. The energy available to do work is what’s left.

For historical reasons, the “available to do work” part is called “free energy.” Not free like running about like ball lightning, but free in the sense of not being bound up in jiggling heated‑up molecules.

Vacuum energy is just the opposite of free — it’s bound up in the structure of space itself. We’ve known for a century that atoms waggle back and forth within their molecules. Those vibrations give rise to the infrared spectra we use for remote temperature sensing and for studying planetary atmospheres. One of the basic results of quantum mechanics is that there’s a minimum amount of motion, called zero‑point vibration, that would persist even if the molecule were frozen to absolute zero temperature.

There are other kinds of zero‑point motion. We know of two phenomena, the Casimir effect and the Lamb shift, that can be explained by assuming that the electric field and other force fields “vibrate” at the ultramicroscopic scale even in the absence of matter. Not vibrations like going up and down, but like getting more and less intense. It’s possible that the same “vibrations” spark radioactive decay and some kinds of light emission.

Visualize space being marked off with a mesh of cubes. In each cube one or more fields more‑or‑less periodically intensify and then relax. The variation strength and timing are unpredictable. Neighboring squares may or may not sync up and that’s unpredictable, too.

The activity is all governed by yet another Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle trade‑off. The stronger the intensification, the less certain we can be about when or where the next one will happen.

What we can say is that whether you look at a large volume of space (even an atom is ultramicroscopicly huge) or a long period of time (a second might as well be a millennium), on the average the intensity is zero. All our energy‑using techniques involve channeling energy from a high‑potential source to a low‑potential sink. Vacuum energy sources are everywhere but so are the sinks and they all flit around. Catching lightning in a jar was easy by comparison.

Regards,
Sy Moire.

~~ Rich Olcott

Question Time

Cathleen unmutes her mic. “Before we wrap up this online Crazy Theories contest with voting for the virtual Ceremonial Broom, I’ve got a few questions here in the chat box. The first question is for Kareem. ‘How about negative evidence for a pre-mammal civilization? Played-out mines, things like that.‘ Kareem, over to you.”

“Thanks. Good question but you’re thinking way too short a time period. Sixty‑six million years is plenty of time to erode the mountain a mine was burrowing into and take the mining apparatus with it.

“Here’s a different kind of negative evidence I did consider. We’re extracting coal now that had been laid down in the Carboniferous Era 300 million years ago. At first, I thought I’d proved no dinosaurs were smart enough to dig up coal because it’s still around where we can mine it. But on second thought I realized that sixty-six million years is enough time for geological upthrust and folding to expose coal seams that would have been too deeply buried for mining dinosaurs to get at. So like the Silurian Hypothesis authors said, no conclusions can be drawn.”

“Nice response, Kareem. Jim, this one’s for you. ‘You said our observable universe is 93 billion lightyears across, but I’ve heard over and over that the Universe is 14 billion years old. Did our observable universe expand faster than the speed of light?‘”

“That’s a deep space question, pun intended. The answer goes to what we mean when we say that the Hubble Flow expands the Universe. Like good Newtonian physicists, we’re used to thinking of space as an enormous sheet of graph paper. We visualize statements like, ‘distant galaxies are fleeing away from us‘ as us sitting at one spot on the graph paper and those other galaxies moving like fireworks across an unchanging grid.

“But that’s not the proper post-Einstein way to look at the situation. What’s going on is that we’re at our spot on the graph paper and each distant galaxy is at its spot, but the Hubble Flow stretches the graph paper. Suppose some star at the edge of our observable universe sent out a photon 13.7 billion years ago. That photon has been headed towards us at a steady 300000 kilometers per second ever since and it finally reached an Earth telescope last night. But in the meantime, the graph paper stretched underneath the photon until space between us and its home galaxy widened by a factor of 3.4.

“By the way, it’s a factor of 3.4 instead of 6.8 because the 93 billion lightyear distance is the diameter of our observable universe sphere, and the photon’s 13.7 billion lightyear trip is that sphere’s radius.

“Mmm, one more point — The Hubble Flow rate depends on distance and it’s really slow on the human‑life timescale. The current value of the Hubble Constant says that a point that’s 3×1019 kilometers away from us is receding at about 70 kilometers per second. To put that in perspective, Hubble Flow is stretching the Moon away from us by 3000 atom‑widths per year, or about 1/1300 the rate at which the Moon is receding because of tidal friction.”

“Nice calculation, Jim. Our final question is for Amanda. ‘Could I get to one of the other quantum tracks if I dove into a black hole and went through the singularity?‘”

“I wouldn’t want to try that but let’s think about it. Near the structure’s center gravitational intensity compresses mass-energy beyond the point that the words ‘particle’ and ‘quantum’ have meaning. All you’ve got is fields fluctuating wildly in every direction of spacetime. No sign posts, no way to navigate, you wouldn’t be able to choose an exit quantum track. But you wouldn’t be able to exit anyway because in that region the arrow of time points inward. Not a sci‑fi story with a happy ending.”

“<whew> Alright, folks, time to vote. Who presented the craziest theory? All those in favor of Kareem, click on your ‘hand’ icon. … OK. Now those voting for Jim? … OK. Now those voting for Amanda? … How ’bout that, it’s a tie. I guess for each of you there’s a parallel universe where you won the virtual Ceremonial Broom. Congratulations to all and thanks for such an interesting evening. Good night, everyone.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Too Many Schrödingers

Cathleen takes back control of the conference software. “Thanks, Jim. OK, the final contestant in our online Crazy Theories contest is the winner of our last face-to-face event where she told us why Spock and horseshoe crabs both have green blood. You’re up, Amanda.”

“Thanks, and hello out there. I can’t believe Jim and I are both talking about parallel universes. It’s almost like we’re thinking in parallel, right?”

<Jim’s mic is muted so he makes gagging motions>

“We need some prep work before I can talk about the Multiverse. I’m gonna start with this heat map of North America at a particular time. Hot in the Texas panhandle, cool in British Columbia, no surprise. You can do a lot with a heat map — pick a latitude and longitude, it tells you the relative temperature. Do some arithmetic on the all numbers and you can get average temperature, highs and lows, front strength in degrees per mile, lots of stuff like that.

“You build this kind of map by doing a lot of individual measurements. If you’re lucky you can summarize those measurements with a function, a compact mathematical expression that does the same job — pick a latitude and longitude, it tells you the value. Three nice things about functions — they take up a lot less space than a map, you can use straightforward mathematical operations on them so getting statistics is less work than with a map, and you can form superpositions by adding functions together.”

Cathleen interrupts. “Amanda, there’s a question in the chat box. ‘Can you give an example of superposition?’

“Sure. You can superpose simple sine‑wave functions to describe chords for sound waves or blended colors for light waves, for instance.

“Now when we get to really small‑scale thingies, we need quantum calculations. The question is, what do quantum calculations tell us? That’s been argued about for a hundred years because the values they generate are iffy superpositions. Twenty percent of this, eighty percent of that. Everybody’s heard of that poor cat in Schrödinger’s box.

“Many researchers say the quantum values are relative probabilities for observing different results in an experiment — but most of them carefully avoid worrying about why the answers aren’t always the same. Einstein wanted to know what Bohr was averaging over to get his averages. Bohr said it doesn’t matter, the percentages are the only things we can know about the system and it’s useless to speculate further.

“Hugh Everett thought bigger. He suggested that the correct quantum function for an observation should include experiment and experimenter. He took that a step further by showing that a proper quantum function would need to include anyone watching the experimenter and so on. In fact, he proposed, maybe there’s just one quantum function for the entire Universe. That would have some interesting implications.

“Remember Schrödinger’s catbox with two possible experimental results? Everett would say that his universal quantum function contains a superposition of two component sub-functions — happy Schrödinger with a live kitty and sad Schrödinger with a disposal problem. Each Schrödinger would be quite certain that he’d seen the definite result of a purely random operation. Two Schrödingers in parallel universes going forward.

“But in fact there’d be way more than two. When Schrödinger’s eye absorbs a photon, or maybe doesn’t, that generates another pair of universes. So do the quantum events that occur as his nerve cells fire, or don’t. Each Schrödinger moves into the future embedded in a dense bundle of parallel universes.”

Cathleen interrupts. “Another question. ‘What about conservation of mass?‘”

“Good question, whoever asked that. Everett doesn’t address that explicitly in his thesis, but I think he assumed the usual superposition math. That always includes a fix‑up step so that the sum of all the pieces adds up to unity. Half a Schrödinger mass on one track and half on the other. Even as each of them splits again and again and again the total is still only one Schrödinger‑mass. There’s other interpretation — each Schrödinger’s universe would be independent of the others so there’s no summing‑up to generate a conservation‑of‑mass problem. Your choice.

“Everett traded quantum weirdness for a weird Universe. Not much of a trade-off, I think.”

~~ Rich Olcott