Vanishing act

In Madeleine L'Engle's seminal young-adult fantasy novel The Wind in the Door, there's something that is making the stars go out.

Not just stop shining, but disappear entirely.  Here's the scene where the protagonist, Meg Murry, first witnesses it happening:

The warm rose and lavender of sunset faded, dimmed, was extinguished.  The sky was drenched with green at the horizon, muting upwards into a deep, purply blue through which stars began to appear in totally unfamiliar constellations.

Meg asked, "Where are we?"

"Never mind where.  Watch."

She stood beside him, looking at the brilliance of the stars.  Then came a sound, a violent, silent, electrical report, which made her press her hands in pain against her ears.  Across the sky, where the stars were clustered as thickly as in the Milky Way, a crack shivered, slivered, became a line of nothingness.

Within that crack, every star that had been there only a moment ago winked out of existence.

A central point in the story is that according to the laws of physics, this isn't supposed to happen.  Stars don't just vanish.  When they end their lives, they do so in an obvious and violent fashion -- even small-mass stars like the Sun swell into a red giant, and eventually undergo core collapse and blow off their outer atmospheres, creating a planetary nebula.  

The Cat's Eye Nebula [Image is in the Public Domain courtesy of NASA/JPL and the ESO]

Larger stars end their lives even more dramatically, as supernovas which lead to the formation of a neutron star or a black hole depending on how much matter is left over once the star blows up.

Well, that's what we thought always happened.

A study out of the University of Copenhagen has found that like in A Wind in the Door, sometimes stars simply... vanish.  A team of astrophysicists has found that instead of the usual progression of Main Sequence > Giant or Supergiant > BOOM! > White Dwarf, Neutron Star, or Black Hole, there are stars that undergo what the astrophysicists are (accurately if uncreatively) calling "complete collapse."  In a complete collapse, the gravitational pull is so high that even considering the power of a supernova, there's just not enough energy available for the outer atmosphere to achieve escape velocity.  So instead of exploding, it just kind of goes...

... pfft.

Unlike what Meg Murry witnessed, though, the matter that formed those stars is still there somewhere; the Law of Conservation of Matter and Energy is strictly enforced in all jurisdictions.  The star that was the focus of the study, VFTS 243, is part of a binary system -- and its companion star continued in its original orbit around their mutual center of mass without so much as a flutter, so the mass of its now-invisible partner is still there.  But the expected cataclysmic blast that usually precedes black hole formation never happened.

"We believe that the core of a star can collapse under its own weight, as happens to massive stars in the final phase of their lives," said Alejandro Vigna-Gómez, who co-authored the study.  "But instead of the contraction culminating into a bright supernova explosion that would outshine its own galaxy, expected for stars more than eight times as massive as the Sun, the collapse continues until the star becomes a black hole.  Were one to stand gazing up at a visible star going through a total collapse, it might, just at the right time, be like watching a star suddenly extinguish and disappear from the heavens.  The collapse is so complete that no explosion occurs, nothing escapes and one wouldn't see any bright supernova in the night sky.  Astronomers have actually observed the sudden disappearance of brightly shining stars in recent times.  We cannot be sure of a connection, but the results we have obtained from analyzing VFTS 243 has brought us much closer to a credible explanation."

You can see why I was immediately reminded of the scene in L'Engle's book.  And while I'm sure the answer isn't evil beings called Echthroi who are trying to extinguish all the light in the universe, the actual phenomenon is still a little on the unsettling side.

Once again showing that we are very far from understanding everything there is out there.  This sort of vanishing act has been high on the list of Things That Aren't Supposed To Happen.  It'll be interesting to see what the theorists propose with when they've had a shot at analyzing the situation, and if they can come up with some sort of factor that determines whether a massive star detonates -- or simply disappears.

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The stellar whirlpool

In today's installment of "The Universe Is A Really Weird Place," we have: a piece of our own galaxy that we didn't even know existed until now.

It's called the "Cepheus Spur" after the constellation Cepheus, in which (from the Earth perspective) the structure seems to reside.  It's a spiral of stars lying above the galactic plane, and at the moment, astronomers don't know how it got there.   "Possibly these are oscillations of the galactic disk resulting from the convulsive evolution of the galaxy," said co-discoverer Michelangelo Pantaleoni González, of the Spanish Astrobiology Center.  "Perhaps they are the echoes of collisions with other galaxies billions of years ago, or maybe it’s something else."

The befuddlement of the experts is indicative that this structure has some seriously odd characteristics.  One of the strangest is that it seems to be mostly composed of type-OB blue supergiant stars, which are amongst the rarest star types known; from observations of the Milky Way, only one star in a million is a type-OB blue supergiant.

That's even taking into account the fact that the ones we know about are visible from a long way off.  They have masses between twenty and fifty times that of the Sun, and luminosities on the order of a hundred thousand times higher.  One familiar example is Rigel, in Orion, which is the brightest star in the constellation despite being 860 light years away.

The constellation Orion, with Rigel at the lower right [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Rogelio Bernal Andreo, Orion Head to Toe, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Their rarity isn't just because it's unusual to have such a huge clump of matter form; they're also exceedingly short-lived.  Because of their mass, they burn through their hydrogen fuel quickly, which makes them the hottest stars -- with surface temperatures of between 10,000 and 50,000 K (the Sun's surface is on the order of 5770 K).  It's estimated that a typical type-OB blue supergiant goes from formation to supernova in something between a few hundred thousand and thirty million years; again, by contrast, the Sun is estimated at 4.6 billion years in age, and is only about halfway through its life.

So to have a swirl of these rare and short-lived stars whirling above the plane of the galaxy is a significant puzzle.

"When we discovered the spur, there was no explosive revelation, but something inside me was transformed.  That’s what draws you in and gives meaning to so much effort," said Pantaleoni González.  "We were in front of [astrophysicist] Jesús [Apellániz]’s computer when he began to inspect this density of dots on the map. I ran to make a special diagram to see if it was consistent with the idea that there was a structure there, and it appeared."

The presence of these stars outside of the galactic plane has yet to be explained, and it's still unknown if the Cepheus Spur really is composed primarily of rare type-OB blue supergiants, or if we're overestimating their frequency because they're so luminous.  It could be that there are a lot of other, dimmer stars in the Spur that we're not seeing because of its distance (estimated at an average of 100,000 light years).  In any case, what seems certain is that this discovery will keep the astrophysicists working for a long while -- and illustrates that once again, the universe is full of surprises.

Which is one of the reasons that science is so endlessly fascinating.

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When people think of mass extinctions, the one that usually comes to mind first is the Cretaceous-Tertiary Extinction of 66 million years ago, the one that wiped out all the non-avian dinosaurs and a good many species of other types.  It certainly was massive -- current estimates are that it killed between fifty and sixty percent of the species alive at the time -- but it was far from the biggest.

The largest mass extinction ever took place 251 million years ago, and it destroyed over ninety percent of life on Earth, taking out whole taxa and changing the direction of evolution permanently.  But what could cause a disaster on this scale?

In When Life Nearly Died: The Greatest Mass Extinction of All Time, University of Bristol paleontologist Michael Benton describes an event so catastrophic that it beggars the imagination.  Following researchers to outcrops of rock from the time of the extinction, he looks at what was lost -- trilobites, horn corals, sea scorpions, and blastoids (a starfish relative) vanished completely, but no group was without losses.  Even terrestrial vertebrates, who made it through the bottleneck and proceeded to kind of take over, had losses on the order of seventy percent.

He goes through the possible causes for the extinction, along with the evidence for each, along the way painting a terrifying picture of a world that very nearly became uninhabited.  It's a grim but fascinating story, and Benton's expertise and clarity of writing makes it a brilliant read.

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