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

The Name’s Not The Same

The regular Thursday night meeting of the Acme Pizza and Science Society around the big circular table at Pizza Eddie’s. Al comes in, hair afire and ready to bite the heads off tenpenny nails. “This is the last straw!” <flings down yet another astronomy magazine>. “Look at this!”

I pick up the issue. “Looks like the lead article’s about the Psyche mission to the Psyche asteroid. You got a problem with that?”

“Nah, that’s just fine, exciting even. Look at the address label.”

“Ah, I see your objection. Instead of your first name it says ‘A. I.’ like those are your initials. Are they?”

“No. Never had a middle initial until the Navy gave me ‘N‘ for ‘No middle initial‘ and I dropped that soon as I got out.”

“So where’d they get the ‘I’?”

“That’s what chafes my cheeks, Vinnie, people messing with my name. All this stuff going on these days about Artificial Intelligence which everybody calls ‘AI’ which looks too flippin’ much like Al. People have been ribbing me about it since ChatGPT hit the street. They come in here asking me for virtual coffee or wanting to know about my ALgorithms. One guy claimed I parked a driverless coffee machine back of the kitchen. But it’s not just jokes. I get calls asking for programming help with languages I never heard of. My checks have my name as Al but the bank lady gives me grief because I don’t sign them with A. I.”

“You’ve got a good point there. When someone chooses a name, that name’s important to them. I know whole families where everyone has a ‘go‑by‘ name. First class I ever taught, I opened by calling the role so I could tie names to faces. I started out calling out first names but quickly learned that most of the men and half the women went by middle names — this was in the South where that’s common but still. Anyway, I called first and middle names until I got to this one kid. He’d gone through three years of college going by ‘C-M’ until I blew his cover by asking which student was named Clyde and it was him. I don’t think he ever forgave me.”

“I know the feeling, Cathleen. None of the teachers could handle my full name. This magazine’s stupid spell‑checker musta corrected me wrong. I want a new name that doesn’t get messed up.”

“Al’s not your full name?”

“No, it’s Aloysius which I don’t like. No-one can spell it, or say it right if they see it written out. I got named after my Mom’s favorite uncle before I could vote against it. I’ve been going by Al ever since I knew better.”

“We need to figure you a new name that looks different but sounds almost the same so you’ll recognize it when we holler at you, right?”

“That’s about it, Vinnie. Whaddaya got?”

“A negative to begin with. We can rule out Hal, the killer computer in the 2001 movie. Don’t want to see our physicist here walk up for a strawberry scone and get ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sy.’ Haw!”

“How about Sal?”

Eddie waves it away. “My Uncle Salvatore’s already got that. One’s enough.”

I read off Old Reliable’s screen. “Baal was a god worshipped by some of the Old Testament enemy tribes, eventually turned into Beelzebub. That won’t do. And ‘mal‘ means ‘bad‘ in Spanish.”

Resident chemist Susan giggles. “I don’t suppose you’d be happy if I greeted you with a cheery, ‘Hey, Gal‘. Oh, wait, I’ve got a Chemistry thing for us. ‘Cal‘ is the standard abbreviation for ‘calorie,’ one of the old‑time measures of heat energy before everybody settled on the joule. What do you think of ‘Cal‘? Hot and cool and rugged enough for you?”

“Hmm… I like it. ‘Cal’s Coffee‘ even has that market‑winner k’‑kuh sound like Krispy Kreme and Captain Crunch and Crispy Critters. It’s official — from now on, Cal is my official go‑by name. Thanks, Susan.”

She grins. “First time I’ve named an adult. Hi, Cal.”
 ”Hi, Cal.”
  ”Hi, Cal.”
   ”Hi, Cal. Now about that magazine article…”

Adapted from a photo by Edward Eyer

~~ Rich Olcott

Three Feet High And Rising

“Bless you, Al, for your air conditioning and your iced coffee.”

“Hiya, Susan. Yeah, you guys do look a little warm. What’ll you have, Sy and Mr Feder?”

“Just my usual mug of mud, Al, and a strawberry scone. Put Susan’s and my orders on Mr Feder’s tab, he’s been asking us questions.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose, but in that case I get another question. Cold brew for me, Al, with ice and put a shot of vanilla in there.”

“So what’s your question?”

“Is sea level rising or not? I got this cousin he keeps sending me proofs it ain’t but I’m reading how NYC’s talking big bucks to build sea walls around Manhattan and everything. Sounds like a big boondoggle.” <pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smoothing it out a little> “Here’s something he’s sent me a couple times.”

“That’s bogus, Mr Feder. They don’t tell us moon phase or time of day for either photo. We can’t evaluate the claim without that information. The 28‑day lunar tidal cycle and the 24‑hour solar cycle can reinforce or cancel each other. Either picture could be a spring tide or a neap tide or anything in‑between. That’s a difference of two meters or more.”

“Sy. the meme’s own pictures belie its claim. Look close at the base of the tower. The water in the new picture covers that sloping part of the base that was completely above the surface in the old photo. A zero centimeter rise, my left foot.”

“Good point, Susan. Mind if I join the conversation from a geologist’s perspective? And yes, we have lots of independent data sources that show sea levels are rising in general.”

“Dive right in, Kareem, but I thought you were an old‑rocks guy.”

“I am, but I study old rocks to learn about the rise and fall of land masses. Sea level variation is an important part of that story. It’s way more complicated than what that photo pretends to deny.”

“Okay, I get that tides go up and down so you average ’em out over a day, right? What’s so hard?”

“Your average will be invalid two weeks later, Mr Feder, like Sy said. To suppress the the Sun’s and Moon’s cyclic variations you’d have to take data for a full year, at least, although a decade would be better.”

“I thought they went like clockwork.”

“They do, mostly, but the Earth doesn’t. There’s several kinds of wobbles, a few of which may recently have changed because Eurasia weighs less.”

“Huh?”
 ”Huh?”
  ”Huh?”

“Mm-hm, its continental interior is drying out, water fleeing the soil and going everywhere else. That’s 10% of the planet’s surface area, all in the Northern hemisphere. Redistributing so much water to the Southern hemisphere’s oceans changes the balance. The world will spin different. Besides, the sea’s not all that level.”

“Sea level’s not level?”

“Nope. Surely you’ve sloshed water in a sink or bathtub. The sea sloshes, too, counterclockwise. Galileo thought sloshing completely accounted for tides, but that was before Newton showed that the Moon’s gravity drives them. NASA used satellite data to build a fascinating video of sea height all over the world. The sea on one side of New Zealand is always about 2 meters higher than on the opposite side but the peak tide rotates. Then there’s storm surges, tsunamis, seiche resonances from coastal and seafloor terrain, gravitational irregularities, lots of local effects.”

Adapted from a video by NASA’s Scientific Visualization Studio

Susan, a chemist trained to consider conservation of mass, perks up. “Wait. Greenland and Antarctica are both melting, too. That water plus Eurasia’s has to raise sea level.”

“Not so much. Yes, the melting frees up water mass that had been locked up as land-bound ice. But on the other hand, it also counteracts sea rise’s major driver.”

“Which is?”

“Expansion of hot water. I did a quick calculation. The Mediterranean Sea averages 1500 meters deep and about 15°C in the wintertime. Suppose it all warms up to 35°C. Its sea level would rise by about 3.3 meters, that’s 10 feet! Unfortunately, not much of Greenland’s chilly outflow will get past the Straits of Gibraltar.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Not Silly-Season Stuff, Maybe

“Keep up the pace, Mr Feder, air conditioning is just up ahead.”

“Gotta stop to breathe, Moire, but I got just one more question.”

“A brief pause, then. What’s your question?”

“What’s all this about LK99 being a superconductor? Except it ain’t? Except maybe it is? What is LK99, anyway, and how do superconductors work? <puffing>”

“So many question marks for just one question. Are you done?”

“And why do news editors care?”

“There’s lots of ways we’d put superconductivity to work if it didn’t need liquid‑helium temperatures. Efficient electric power transmission, portable MRI machines, maglev trains, all kinds of advances, maybe even Star Trek tricorders.”

“Okay, I get how zero‑resistance superconductive wires would be great for power transmission, but how do all those other things have anything to do with it?”

“They depend on superconductivity’s conjoined twin, diamagnetism.”

Dia—?”

“Means ‘against.’ It’s sort of an application of Newton’s Third Law.”

“That’s the one says, ‘If you push on the Universe it pushes back,’ right?”

“Very good, Mr Feder. In electromagnetism that’s called Lenz’ Law. Suppose you bring a magnet towards some active conductor, say a moving sheet of copper. Or maybe it’s already carrying an electric current. Either way, the magnet’s field makes charge carriers in the sheet move perpendicular to the field and to the prevailing motion. That’s an eddy current.”

“How come?”

“Because quantum and I’m not about to get into that in this heat. Emil Lenz didn’t propose a mechanism when he discovered his Law in 1834 but it works. What’s interesting is what happens next. The eddy current generates its own magnetic field that opposes your magnet’s field. There’s your push‑back and it’s called diamagnetism.”

“I see where you’re going, Moire. With a superconductor there’s zero resistance and those eddy currents get big, right?”

“In theory they could be infinite. In practice they’re exactly strong enough to cancel out any external magnetic field, up to a limit that depends on the material. A maglev train’s superconducting pads would float above its superconducting track until someone loads it too heavily.”

“What about portable MRI you said? It’s not like someone’s gonna stand on one.”

“A portable MRI would require a really strong magnet that doesn’t need plugging in. Take that superconducting sheet and bend it into a doughnut. Run your magnet through the hole a few times to start a current. That current will run forever and so will the magnetic field it generates, no additional power required. You can make the field as strong as you like, again within a limit that depends on the material.”

“Speaking of materials, what’s the limit for that LK99 stuff?”

“Ah, just in time! Ahoy, Susan! Out for a walk yourself, I see. We’re on our way to Al’s for coffee and air conditioning. Mr Feder’s got a question that’s more up your Chemistry alley than my Physics.”

“LK99, right? It’s so newsy.”

“Yeah. What is it? Does it superconduct or not?”

“Those answers have been changing by the week. Chemically, it’s basically lead phosphate but with copper ions replacing some of the lead ions.”

“They can do that?”

“Oh yes, but not as neatly as we’d like. Structurally, LK99’s an oxide framework in the apatite class — a lattice of oxygens with phosphorus ions sitting in most of the holes in the lattice, lead ions in some of the others. Natural apatite minerals also have a sprinkling of hydroxides, fluorides or chlorides, but the reported synthesis doesn’t include a source for any of those.”

“Synthesis — so the stuff is hand‑made?”

“Mm‑hm, from a series of sold‑state reactions. Those can be tricky — you grind each of your reactants to a fine powder, mix the powders, seal them in a tube and bake at high temperature for hours. The heat scrambles the lattices. The atoms can settle wherever they want, mostly. I think that’s part of the problem.”

“Like maybe they don’t?”

“Maybe. There are uncontrollable variables — grinding precision, grain size distribution, mixing details, reaction tube material, undetected but critical impurities — so many. That’s probably why other labs haven’t been able to duplicate the results. Superconductivity might be so structure‑sensitive that you have to prepare your sample j‑u‑s‑t right.”

~~ Rich Olcott

LIGO And NANOGrav

Afternoon coffee time, but Al’s place is a little noisier than usual. “Hey, Sy, come here and settle this.”

“Settle what, Al? Hi, Vinnie.”

<waves magazine> “This NANOGrav thing, they claim it’s a brand‑new kind of gravity wave. What’s that about?”

“Does it really say, ‘gravity wave‘? Let me see that. … <sigh> Press release journalism at its finest. ‘Gravity waves’ and ‘gravitational waves’ are two entirely different things.”

“I kinda remember you wrote about that, but it was so long ago I forget how they’re different.”

“Gravity waves happen in a fluid, like air or the ocean. Some disturbance, like a heat spike or an underwater landslide, pushes part of the fluid upward relative to a center of gravity. Gravity acts to pull that part down again but in the meantime the fluid’s own internal forces spread the initial up‑shift outwards. Adjacent fluid segments pull each other up and down and that’s a gravity wave. The whole process keeps going until friction dissipates the energy.”

“Gravitational waves don’t do that?”

“No, because gravitational waves temporarily modify the shape of space itself. The center doesn’t go up and down, it…” <showing a file on Old Reliable> “Here, see for yourself what happens. It’s called quadrupolar distortion. Mind you, the effects are tiny percentagewise which is why the LIGO apparatus had to be built kilometer‑scale in order to measure sub‑femtometer variations. The LIGO engineers took serious precautions to prevent gravity waves from masquerading as gravitational waves.”

“Alright, so now we’ve almost got used to LIGO machines catching these waves from colliding black holes and such. How are NANOGrav waves different?”

“Is infrared light different from visible light?”

“The Hubble sees visible but the Webb sees infrared.”

“Figures you’d have that cold, Al. What I think Sy’s getting at is they’re both electromagnetic even though we only see one of them. You’re gonna say the same for these new gravitational waves, right, Sy?”

“Got it in one, Vinnie. There’s only one electromagnetic field in the Universe but lots of waves running through it. Visible light is about moving charge between energy levels in atoms or molecules which is how the visual proteins in our eyes pick it up. Infrared can’t excite electrons. It can only waggle molecule parts which is why we feel it as heat. Same way, there’s only one gravitational field but lots of waves running through it. The LIGO devices are tuned to pick up drastic changes like the <ahem> massive energy release from a black hole collision.”

“You said ‘tuned‘. Gravitational waves got frequencies?”

“Sure. And just like light, high frequencies reflect high‑energy processes. LIGO detects waves in the kilohertz range, thousands of peaks per second. NANOGrav’s detection range is sub‑nanohertz, where one cycle can take years to complete. Amazingly low energy.”

“How can they detect anything that slow?”

“With really good clocks and a great deal of patience. The new reports are based on fifteen years of data, half a billion seconds counted out in nanoseconds.”

“Hey, wait a minute. LIGO’s only half‑a‑dozen years old. Where’d they get the extra data from, the future?”

“Of course not. Do you remember us working out how LIGO works? The center sends out a laser pulse along two perpendicular arms, then compares the two travel times when the pulse is reflected back. Light’s distance‑per‑time is constant, right? When a passing gravitational wave squeezes space along one arm, the pulse in that arm completes its round trip faster. The two times don’t match any more and everyone gets excited.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Good. NANOGrav also uses a timing‑based strategy, but it depends on pulsars instead of lasers. Before you ask, a pulsar is a rotating neutron star that blasts a beam of electromagnetic radiation. What makes it a pulsar is that the beam points away from the rotation axis. We only catch a pulse when the beam points straight at us like a lighthouse or airport beacon. Radio and X‑ray observatories have been watching these beasts for half a century but it’s only in the past 15 years that our clocks have gotten good enough to register timing hiccups when a gravitational wave passes between us and a pulsar.”

~ Rich Olcott

Reflection, Rotation And Spacetime

“Afternoon, Al.”

“Hiya, Sy. Hey, which of these two scones d’ya like better?”

“”Mm … this oniony one, sorta. The other is too vegetable for me ‑ grass, I think, and maybe asparagus? What’s going on?”

“Experimenting, Sy, experimenting. I’m going for ‘Taste of Spring.’ The first one was spring onion, the second was fiddlehead ferns. I picked ’em myself.”

“Very seasonal, but I’m afraid neither goes well with coffee. I’ll take a caramel scone, please, plus a mug of my usual mud.”

“Aw, Sy, caramel’s a winter flavor. Here you go. Say, while you’re here, maybe you could clear up something for me?”

“I can try. What’s the something?”

“After your multiverse series I got out my astronomy magazines to read up on the Big Bang. Several of the articles said that we’ve gone through several … um, I think they said ‘epochs‘ … separated by episodes of symmetry breaking. What’s that all about?”

“It’s about a central notion in modern Physics. Name me some kinds of symmetry.”

“Mmm, there’s left‑right, of course, and the turning kind like a snowflake has. Come to think — I like listening to Bach and Vivaldi when I’m planet‑watching. I don’t know why but their stuff reminds me of geometry and feels like symmetry.”

“Would it help to know that the word comes from the Greek for ‘same measure‘? Symmetry is about transformations, like your mirror and rotation operations, that affect a system but don’t significantly change to its measurable properties. Rotate that snowflake 60° and it looks exactly the same. Both the geometric symmetries you named are two‑dimensional but the principle applies all over the place. Bach and the whole Baroque era were just saturated with symmetry. His music was so regular it even looked good on the page. Even buildings and artworks back then were planned to look balanced, as much mass and structure on the left as on the right.”

“I don’t read music, just listen to it. Why does Bach sound symmetric?”

“There’s another kind of symmetry, called a ‘translation‘ don’t ask why, where the transformation moves something along a line within some larger structure. That paper napkin dispenser, for instance. It’s got a stack of napkins that all look alike. I pull one off, napkins move up one unit but the stack doesn’t look any different.”

“Except I gotta refill it when it runs low, but I get your drift. You’re saying Bach takes a phrase and repeats it over and over and that sounds like translational symmetry along the music’s timeline.”

“Yup, maybe up or down a few tones, maybe a different register or instrument. The repeats are the thing. Play his Third Brandenberg Concerto next time you’re at your telescope, you’ll see what I mean.”

“Symmetry’s not just math then.”

“Like I said, it’s everywhere. You’ve seen diagrams of DNA’s spiral staircase. It combines translation with rotation symmetry, does about 10 translation steps per turn, over and over. The Universe has a symmetry you don’t see at all. No‑one did until Lorentz and Poincaré revised Heaviside’s version of Maxwell’s electromagnetism equations for Minkowski space. Einstein, Hilbert and Grossman used that work to give us and the Universe a new symmetry.”

“Einstein didn’t do the math?”

“The crew I just named were world‑class in math, he wasn’t. Einstein’s strengths were his physical intuition and his ability to pick problems his math buddies would find interesting. Look, Newton’s Universe depends on absolute space and time. The distance between two objects at a given time is always the same, no matter who’s measuring it or how fast anyone is moving. All observers measure the same duration between two incidents regardless. Follow me?”

“Makes sense. That’s how things work hereabouts, anyway.”

“That’s how they work everywhere until you get to high speeds or high gravity. Lorentz proved that the distances and durations you measure depend on your velocity relative to what you’re measuring. Extreme cases lead to inconsistent numbers. Newton’s absolute space and time are pliable. To Einstein such instability was an abomination. Physics needs a firm foundation, a symmetry between all observers to support consistent measurements throughout the Universe. Einstein’s Relativity Theory rescued Physics with symmetrical mathematical transformations that enforce consistency.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Metrological Extremes

Al’s coffee shop smells festive. “Hiya, Sy. Can I interest you in a peppermint latte this morning?”

Adapted from a YouTube video contributed by NPL(UK)

“You know me better than that, Al. My usual black mud, please. Hmm… What flavor’s hiding under the chocolate frosting on the scone rack?”

“Strawberry.”

“In that case I’ll take two. Your latest artwork behind the cash register is more a scroll than a poster.”

“You noticed. Yeah, it’s very cool but I don’t understand a couple things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like what’s NPL, for starters, but mostly what the poster’s even about. I get that it’s science-y and my Physics and Astronomy customers chuckle at it, but…”

“Well, for starters, NPL is the United Kingdom’s National Physical Laboratory. In USA terms they’re a little bit like a mixture of NIST and what used to be Bell Labs with a side order of DARPA. They were early supporters of high‑precision instrumentation, computer and network tech, lots of cutting‑edge stuff until they were privatized and the company that mostly bought them lost a whole lot of money. Now they’re back to a government plus academy structure but they’re still a going concern, one of the major drivers behind the SI conventions.”

“You wrote about that a while ago, din’tcha?”

“Did a whole series that started with revising the official mass standard and wound up at the full set of Système International basic and derived units. Pretty boring until you realize that precise measurement has been crucial to practically all manufacturing since the introduction of mass production. And it’s important to use a consistent set of units. One of NASA’s worst black eyes was the Mars Climate Orbiter failure when one team used Imperial feet‑and‑pounds units and everyone else was on the metric system.”

“I gotta use both sets. Most of my baking supplies come in pounds, but the coffee beans and some of the flavorings come in kilograms. I gotta use my computer to resize a recipe.”

“That’s the thing with the metric system. It’s all about powers of ten. No dividing by 12 or is it 16 or even 5280 to get to a different size range — just move the decimal and you’re done. I don’t know why people have so much trouble with it.”

“It’s something new, Sy.”

“Yeah, but it’s not been new since the 1800s. It’s a long time since doctors prescribed by the scruple or minim. All there’s been for generations is milligrams and microliters. Gas prices being what they are these days I’m surprised the oil companies haven’t been pushing to sell by the liter — price per unit volume would drop by nearly a quarter.”

“I see ‘milli’ and ‘micro’ ornaments on one of those Christmas trees. Is that what they’re about?”

“That’s the ‘divide by a thousand’ tree. You already know ‘milli’ as the first cut‑down from grams or whatever the unit is. Divide by another thousand, you’ve got ‘micro’, which is one millionth or 10‑6. You’ve seen the ‘nano’ prefix by now — it’s 10‑9 and I like the nano‑nine connection. The ornaments on that tree display the prefixes for smaller and smaller subdivisions. The gold ones near the bottom are new this year. ‘Quecto’ is 10‑30, which would take you 30 digits if you wrote the number out.”

“So I guess the other tree is ‘multiply by a thousand.‘ Yup, there’s the ‘kilo’ for a thousand grams. Someone once told me I get about ten thousand beans in a kilogram bag.”

“Ten beans to a gram, then. That makes each bean a tenth of a gram or 100 milligrams. See how easy? Try figuring that in ounces.”

“Nice. Hey, I recognize ‘mega’ next to … a million. Counting’s hard without the commas in there.”

“Some people use spaces. You probably remember ‘giga’ and ‘tera’ from gigabytes and terabytes, you being a computer user.”

“Gigabucks, too. I read the news, you know. Politicians and CEOs play in the billions. But who needs numbers as big as ‘quetta’? That’s what, 1030?”

“Scientists and computer storage managers, mostly. Jupiter’s just shy of two quettagrams, and civilization’s on the path to generating a ronnabyte of data.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Cause, Effect And Time

We’re still at Vinnie’s table by the door of Al’s coffee shop. “Long as we’re talking about black holes, Sy, I read in one of my astronomy magazines that an Event Horizon traps information the same way it traps light. I understand how gravity makes escape velocity for photons go beyond lightspeed, but how does that trap information?”

“Well, to start with, Al, you understand wrong. The whole idea of escape velocity applies to massive objects like rockets that feel the force of gravity. Going up they trade kinetic energy for potential energy; given enough kinetic energy they escape. Photons have zero mass — the only way gravity influences them is by bending the spacetime they fly through.”

“Does the bending also affect information or is that something else?”

Minkowski’s spacetime diagram…

“Fair question, but it’ll take some background to answer it. Good thing I’ve got Old Reliable and my graphics files along. Let’s start with this one. Vinnie’s seen a lot of spacetime graphs like this, Al, but I don’t think you have. Time runs upward, distance runs sideward, okay? Naming a specific time and location specifies an event, just like a calendar entry. Draw a line between two events; the slope is the speed you have to go to get from one to the other.”

“Just the distance, you’re not worrying about direction?”

“Good question. You’re thinking space is 3D and this picture shows only one space dimension. Einstein’s spacetime equations take account of all four dimensions mixing together, which is one reason they’re so hard to solve except in special cases. For where we’re going, distance will be enough, okay?”

“Not gonna argue.”

… compartmentalized by Einstein’s speed limit …

“Now we roll in Einstein’s speed limit. Relativity says that nothing can go faster than light. On a Minkowski diagram like this we draw the lightspeed slope at a 45″ angle. Any physical motion has a slope more vertical than that.”

“Huh?”

“See, Al, you’re going one second per second along time, right? If you’re not making much progress distance‑wise, you don’t do much on Sy’s sideways axis. You move mostly up.”

“Exactly, Vinnie. The bottom and top sections are called ‘timelike‘ because, well, they’re mostly like time.”

“Are the other two sections spacelike?”

“Absolutely. You can’t get from ‘Here & Now‘ to the ‘Too far to see‘ event without going faster than light. Einstein said that’s a no‑no. Suppose that event’s a nova, ‘Now‘ but far away. Astronomers will have to just wait until the nova’s light reaches them at ‘Here‘ but at a later ‘Now.’ Okay, Vinnie, here’s a graphic you haven’t seen yet.”

… and re-interpreted in terms of causality.

“Looks pretty much the same, except for that arrow. What’s cause and effect got to do with time?”

“I don’t want to get into the metaphysical weeds here. There’s a gazillion theories about time — the Universe is expanding and that drives time; entropy always increases and that drives time; time is an emergent property of the underlying structure of the Universe, whatever that means. From an atomic, molecular, mechanical physics point of view, time is the result of causes driving effects. Causes always come first. Your finger bleeds after you cut it, not before. Cause‑effect runs along the time axis. Einstein showed us that cause‑effect can’t travel any faster than lightspeed.”

“That’s a new one. How’d he figure that?”

“Objects move objects to make things happen. They can’t move faster than lightspeed because of the relativity factor.”

“What if the objects are already touching?”

“Your hand and that cup are both made of atoms and it’s really their electric fields that touch. Shifting fields are limited by lightspeed, too.”

“So you’re saying that cause-effect is timelike.”

“Got it in one. Einstein would say causality is not only timelike, but exactly along the time axis. That’s one big reason he was so uncomfortable about action at a distance — a cause ‘Here‘ having an effect ‘There‘ with zero time elapsed would be a horizontal line, pure spacelike, on Minkowski’s graph. Einstein invented the principle of entanglement as a counterexample, thinking it impossible. He’d probably be shocked and distressed to see that today we have experimental proof of entanglement.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Holes in A Hole?

Mid-afternoon coffee break time so I head over to Al’s coffee shop. Vinnie’s at his usual table by the door, fiddling with some spilled coffee on the table top. I notice he’s pulled some of it into a ring around a central blob. He looks at it for a moment. His mental gears whirl then he looks up at me. “Hey Sy! Can you have a black hole inside another black hole?”

“That’s an interesting question. Quick answer is, ‘No.’ Longer answer is, ‘Sort of, maybe, but not the way you’re thinking.’ You good with that, Vinnie?”

“You know me better than that, Sy. Pull up a chair and give.”

I wave at Al, who brings me a mug of my usual black mud. “Thanks, Al. You heard Vinnie’s question?”

“Everyone on campus did, Sy. Why the wishy-washy?”

“Depends on your definition of black hole.”

Sky-watcher Al is quick with a response. “It’s a star that collapsed denser than a neutron star.”

Vinne knows me and black holes better than that. “It’s someplace where gravity’s so strong that nothing can get out, not even light.”

“Both right, as far as they go, but neither goes deep enough for Vinnie’s question.”

“You got a better one, I suppose?”

“I do, Vinnie. My definitition is that a black hole is a region of spacetime with such intense gravitation that it wraps an Event Horizon around itself. Al’s collapsed star is one way to create one, but that probably doesn’t account for the Event Horizons around supermassive black holes lurking in galactic cores. Your ‘nothing escapes‘ doesn’t say anything about conditions inside.”

“Thought we couldn’t know what happens inside.”

“Mostly correct, which is why your question is as problematical as you knew it was. Best I can do is lay out possibilities, okay? First possibility is that the outer black hole forms around a pre-existing inner one.”

“Can they do that?”

“In principle. What makes a black hole is having enough mass gathered in close proximity. Suppose you have a black hole floating our there in space, call it Fred, and a neutron star comes sidling by. If the two bodies approach closely enough, the total amount of mass could be large enough to generate a second Event Horizon shell enclosing both of them. How long that’d last is another matter.”

“The outer shell’d go away?”

“No chance of that. Once the shell’s created, the mass is in there and the star is doomed … unless the star’s closest approach matches Fred’s ISCO. That’s Innermost Stable Circular Orbit, about three times Fred’s Event Horizon’s half-diameter if Fred’s not rotating. Then the two bodies might go into orbit around their common center of gravity.”

“How’s rotation come into this?”

“If the mass is spinning, then you’ve got a Kerr black hole, frame-dragging and an ISCO each along and against the spin direction. Oh, wait, I forgot about tidal effects.”

“Like spaghettification, right.”

“Like that but it could be worse. Depending on how tightly neutronium holds itself together, which we don’t know, that close approach might be inside the Roche limit. Fred’s gravity gradient might simply shred the star to grow the black hole’s accretion disk.”

“Grim. You said there’s other possibilities?”

“Sorta like the first one, but suppose the total mass comes from two existing black holes, like the collision that LIGO picked up accidentally back in 2014. Suppose each one is aimed just outside the other’s ISCO. Roche fragmentation wouldn’t happen, I think, because each body’s contents are protected inside its own personal Event Horizon. Uhh … darn, that scheme won’t work and neither will the other one.”

“Why not?”
 ”Why not?”

“Because the diameter of an Event Horizon is proportional to the enclosed mass. The outer horizon’s diameter for the case with two black holes would be exactly the sum of the diameters of the embedded holes. If they’re at ISCO distances apart they’re can’t be close enough to form the outer horizon. For the same reason, I don’t think a neutron star could get close enough, either.”

“No hole in a hole, huh?”

“I’m afraid not.”

~~ Rich Olcott

  • Thanks to Alex and Xander, who asked the question.

A Match Game

<chirp chirp> “Lab C-324, Susan Kim speaking.”

<hoarsely> “Hi Susan, it’s Sy. Fair warning. The at‑home test I just ran says I’ve got Covid. I’ve had all four shots but it looks like some new variant dodged in anyway. We had coffee together at Al’s yesterday so I wanted to warn you. Better stock up on cough medicine and such.”

“Ooh. Thanks, Sy, sorry to hear that. If it’s any consolation, you’re not alone. About half the lab’s empty today because of Covid. I’m just waiting for this last extraction to complete and then I’m outta here myself. There’s chicken soup going in the slow‑cooker at home.”

“Ah, yes, a Jewish mother’s universal remedy.”

“Korean mothers, too, Sy, except we use more garlic. Chicken soup’s a standard all over the world — soothing, easy on the stomach and loaded with protein.”

“While you’re in wait mode, maybe you could explain something to me.”

“I can try. What is it?”

“How do these tests work? I swabbed my nose, swirled the yuck with the liquid in the little vial and put three drops into the ‘sample port‘ window. In the next few minutes fluid crept across the display window next to the port and I saw dark bars at the T and C markers. What’s that all about?”

“Miracles of modern immunochemistry, Sy, stuff we wouldn’t have been able to execute fifty years ago. What do you know about antibodies?”

“Not much. I’ve read a little about immunology but I always get the antibodies confused with the antigens and then my understanding goes south.”

“Ignore the ‘anti‘ parts — an antigen is usually a part of something from outside that generates an immune response. As part of the response, cells in your body build antibodies, targeted proteins that stick to specific antigens. Each unique antibody is produced by just a few of your cells. When you’re under a disease attack, your antibodies that match the attacker’s antigens lock onto the attacker to signal your defender cells what needs chewing up. About half‑a‑dozen Nobel Prizes went to researchers who figured out how to get a lab‑grown cell to react to a given antigen and then how to clone enough copies of that cell to make industrial quantities of the corresponding antibody. You follow?”

“So far, so good.”

“One more layer of detail. All antibodies are medium-sized proteins with the same structure like a letter Y. There’s a unique targeting bit at the end of each upper arm. An antigen can be anything — a fragment of protein or carbohydrate, a fatty acid, even some minerals.”

“Wait. If a protein can be an antigen, does that mean that an antibody can be an antigen, too?”

“Indeed, that’s the key for your test kit’s operation. The case holds a strip of porous plastic like filter paper that’s been treated with two narrow colorless stripes and a dot. The T stripe contains immobilized antibody for some fragment of the virus. The C stripe contains immobilized antibody antibody.”

“Hold on — an antibody that targets another antibody like maybe the bottom of the Y?”

“Exactly. That’s the control indicator. The dot holds virus antibodies that can move and they’re linked to tiny particles of gold. Each gold particle is way too small to see, but a bunch of them gathered together looks red‑brown. Okay, you put a few drops of yuckified liquid on top of the dot and the mixture migrates along the porous material. You tell me what happens.”

“Wait, what’s in that liquid?”

“It’s standard pH-buffered saline, keeps the proteins healthy.”

“Hmm. Alright, the dot’s gold‑labeled virus antibody grabs virus in my yuck and swims downstream. The T stripe’s virus antibody snags the virus‑antigen combination particles and I see red‑brown there. Or not, if there’s no virus. Meanwhile, the creeping liquid sweeps other gold‑labeled antibodies, virus‑bound or not, until they hit the C stripe and turn it red‑brown if things are working right. Uhhh, how much gold are we talking about?”

“Colloidal gold particles are typically balls maybe 50 nanometers across. Stripe area’s about 1 mm2, times 50 nanometers, density 19.32 kg/m3, gold’s $55 per gram today … about 5 microcents worth.”

~~ Rich Olcott