Sciency Words: Juno (An A to Z Challenge Post)

Today’s post is a special A to Z Challenge edition of Sciency Words, an ongoing series here on Planet Pailly where we take a look at some interesting science or science related term so we can all expand our scientific vocabularies together. In today’s post, J is for:

JUNO

The current NASA mission exploring Jupiter is named Juno. That stands for Jupiter Near-polar Orbiter. Except not really. I’m pretty sure someone came up with that acronym long after the Juno mission was already named.

According to a press release from 2011, NASA named its Jupiter mission after the Roman goddess Juno (a.k.a. Hera), the wife of Jupiter (a.k.a. Zeus). Now if you’re at all familiar with Greek and Roman mythology, you know Jupiter and Juno didn’t exactly have an ideal marriage.

In that 2011 press release, NASA reminds us of one specific story in which Jupiter tried to hide his “mischief” behind a veil of clouds. Of course the whole veil of clouds routine didn’t work, and Juno saw right through her husband’s trickery.

NASA was kind of brilliant with this specific mythological reference. It’s a lot cleverer than some silly acronym.

The Juno space probe is equipped with ultraviolet and infrared cameras, which can see through the top most layers of Jupiter’s atmosphere. Even better, Juno is carrying instruments for studying Jupiter’s magnetic field, which will indirectly tell us more about the planet’s core. And Juno will be mapping the planet’s gravitational field, which will reveal how mass is distributed in the planet’s interior.

In other words…

Next time on Sciency Words: A to Z, what’s the total mass of a kilogram?

Sciency Words: I.A.U. (An A to Z Challenge Post)

Today’s post is a special A to Z Challenge edition of Sciency Words, an ongoing series here on Planet Pailly where we take a look at some interesting science or science related term so we can all expand our scientific vocabularies together. In today’s post, I is for:

I.A.U.

Yesterday I mentioned the International Commission on Stratigraphy (I.C.S.), the organization that assigns names to the geological strata of our planet. When you really get into this sciency words stuff, it seems like just about every single field of scientific research has its own international commission or union or organization like the I.C.S.

Which brings us to the International Astronomy Union or I.A.U. I’m willing to bet you already know about this organization, even if you didn’t know its name. They did something that made them very famous. Or perhaps I should call them infamous. And what did the I.A.U. do to become so infamous?

Yup. They’re the people who decided Pluto isn’t a planet.

Also, if you’ve ever wanted to name a star after your girlfriend or boyfriend or most beloved pet, the I.A.U. would like you to know that you’re not allowed to do that. Sorry. (They’re not actually sorry.)

Okay, it’s easy (and fun) to get mad at the I.A.U. over Pluto, and I know it’s disappointing to find out your thoughtful star name gift isn’t valid. I’ve known people to get pretty upset about that star name thing.

But according to the I.A.U.’s website, their goal is to establish “unambiguous astronomical nomenclature” for use in scientific literature. That means assigning official names to astronomical objects and writing official definitions for terms astronomers use, so as to avoid confusion or miscommunications in scientific discourse.

While I’m not exactly a big fan of the I.A.U., I do get where they’re coming from. Having dozens of stars named Jessica or Mary or Bobby would create a lot of confusion. And as for that matter with Pluto… we’ll come back to that later this month.

Next time on Sciency Words: A to Z, we’ll say hello to NASA’s Juno mission.

Sciency Words: Frost Line (An A to Z Challenge Post)

Today’s post is a special A to Z Challenge edition of Sciency Words, an ongoing series here on Planet Pailly where we take a look at some interesting science or science related term so we can all expand our scientific vocabularies together. In today’s post, F is for:

FROST LINE

They say it’s cold in space. That’s not quite true. First off, how do you define what temperature means in a vacuum? That’s a much harder question that you might think.

But secondly—and more importantly for today’s post—a lot depends on where you are in space, because if you happen to be anywhere near a star, I guarantee you will feel the heat.

If you read enough scientific literature about space, you’ll eventually encounter the term “frost line,” and you’ll probably be able to guess from context what it means. Objects on one side of the line are close enough to the Sun for ice to melt (or more likely, sublimate), while objects on the other side are far enough away that ice remains frozen.

In our Solar System, the frost line is usually placed somewhere in the middle of the asteroid belt.

But there’s a lot of disagreement about where specifically the frost line is, in large part because there’s a lot of disagreement about how, specifically, the term should be defined.

Some astrophysicists define the frost line based on temperature conditions in the Solar System today. Others define it based on conditions from back when the Solar System was still forming. Also, there can be different frost lines for different chemicals, because the freezing point of water is different than that of methane or nitrogen or carbon dioxide.

This is a case of how some scientific terms are more clearly and precisely defined than others. And yet despite all the ambiguity about the frost line (or lines), it is still an incredibly useful term to help describe the layout of the Solar System. Which is why, if you read enough scientific literature about space, you are bound to come across this term eventually.

Next time on Sciency Words: A to Z Challenge, where did the word gravity come from?

Sciency Words: Earth (An A to Z Challenge Post)

Today’s post is a special A to Z Challenge edition of Sciency Words, an ongoing series here on Planet Pailly where we take a look at some interesting science or science related term so we can all expand our scientific vocabularies together. In today’s post, E is for:

EARTH

What planet do you live on? What is its name? Officially?

If you’re a regular reader of science fiction, you may have seen your home planet referred to by several “official” names: Terra, Gaia, Telluria, or perhaps Sol III.

But in real life, the International Astronomy Union (I.A.U.) is the only organization that gets to decide what planets and other objects in space are officially named. We’ll be hearing a lot about the I.A.U. as this Sciency Words: A to Z challenge continues.

And according to the I.A.U., our planet is officially and unambiguously named Earth. Except when it’s not. The I.A.U. makes the concession that Earth’s name is different in different languages, though they do insist that it should always be treated as a proper noun.

That may seem like common sense. It would be extremely culturally insensitive to force the English name for our planet on every other culture in the world. But in fact the I.A.U. seems to be making a special exception for Earth (and also for the Sun, the Moon, and the Solar System) by allowing other languages to use other names.

For example, they want you to call Mars Mars regardless of what language you speak, at least for the purposes of scientific discourse. Saturn should always be called Saturn, and Pluto should always be called Pluto—and don’t you dare call Pluto a planet!—according to the I.A.U.

As I said, we’ll be hearing a lot about the I.A.U. as the month progresses.

Next time on Sciency Words: A to Z Challenge, we’ll leave Earth (or whatever it’s called) behind and visit a frostier region of the Solar System.

Sciency Words: Centaur (An A to Z Challenge Post)

Today’s post is a special A to Z Challenge edition of Sciency Words, an ongoing series here on Planet Pailly where we take a look at some interesting science or science related term so we can all expand our scientific vocabularies together. In today’s post, C is for:

CENTAUR

As I mentioned in my first Sciency Words: A to Z Challenge post, some scientific terms are kind of dumb. This isn’t one of them. I actually think this one’s pretty clever. There’s a class of large objects in the Solar System that astronomers have decided to call centaurs.

Eh… no. These objects have nothing to do with horses, but they are sort of half one thing and half another! When they were first discovered, astronomers were confused because centaurs appeared to have the characteristics of both asteroids and comets.

I first learned about centaurs in this article from Discovery News. It’s now believed that centaurs originally came from the Kuiper belt—a sort of second asteroid belt that lies beyond the orbit of Neptune. Basically, they came from Pluto’s neighborhood.

Due to gravitational interactions with the gas giants, these objects were pulled inward. The now have highly unstable orbits crossing between the orbits of Neptune and Jupiter. Eventually, further gravitational interactions may hurl a centaur into the inner Solar System, putting it within melting distance of the Sun and transforming it into a full-fledged comet.

Originally, the International Astronomy Union wanted to name all the centaurs after actual centaurs from Greek mythology. But they quickly ran out of names. Now the official naming theme includes all mythical hybrids and/or shape-shifters. Examples include Typhon (half man, half dragon), Ceto (half woman, half sea monster) and Narcissus (a man who transformed into a flower).

Next time on Sciency Words: A to Z Challenge, we’ll find out why dimetrodon is not a dinosaur.

Looking for Life in All the Wrong Places

It’s been over a month since my trip to KIC 8462852, better known as Tabby’s Star. And yes, my trip was totally for real. I was actually there and saw the alien megastructure for myself. You can trust me on this.

Anyway… I did a lot of research and reading to prepare for my trip, and I noticed a common theme in almost all the papers and articles I read: whatever’s happening to Tabby’s Star, it was very easy for us Earthlings to miss. In fact, it almost was missed.

Tabetha Boyajian herself (for whom Tabby’s Star is named) initially dismissed the star’s anomalous light curve as faulty data. And that could have been the end of it, no further investigation required.

It’s almost dumb luck (plus the persistence of a few citizen scientists) that Boyajian and others ended up taking a second look at that “faulty” data and realized it wasn’t a problem with the telescope, that something legitimately weird was going on.

Enrico Fermi Still Whats to Know: Where Is Everybody?

I’m bringing this up because I think it has interesting implications for the Fermi Paradox. Circa 1950, physicist Enrico Fermi argued that advanced space faring civilizations should be out there somewhere, and furthermore Fermi said we should have seen them or heard from them by now. So where is everybody?

Now I don’t want to oversell my point here, because there are a lot of possible answers to Fermi’s question. Maybe we really are alone in the universe, or maybe intelligent life is less common than Fermi assumed. Or maybe intergalactic law forbids making contact with primitive worlds like Earth.

But it’s also possible—in my opinion, very possible—that evidence of alien civilizations is there, but we’ve just missed it. Maybe we haven’t been looking in the right places, or maybe we haven’t been looking for the right things. Tabby’s Star is a perfect example. I don’t know if aliens are responsible for what’s happening to Tabby’s Star… wait, I mean I do know, because I was there and saw the aliens. No really, I did.

Umm… anyway… even if there weren’t an alien megastructure, the story of Tabby’s Star should tell us something about how easy it is for us to overlook what’s happening right in front of our eyes—or what’s happening right in front of our telescopes.

Sciency Words: The Fermi Paradox

Today’s post is part of a special series here on Planet Pailly called Sciency Words. Each week, we take a closer look at an interesting science or science-related term to help us expand our scientific vocabularies together. Today’s term is:

THE FERMI PARADOX

Enrico Fermi was an Italian physicist, one of the many great scientists who immigrated to the United States right before the outbreak of World War II. He is most noted for creating the first nuclear reactor and the role he played in the development of the atomic bomb.

But that’s not what we’re going to talk about today. Today we’re talking about something Fermi said half-jokingly over lunch.

Where Is Everybody?

Based on some historical detective work, we can say this probably happened in the summer of 1950. Fermi was visiting the Los Alamos National Laboratory. He and a few colleagues were having a lunchtime conversation about flying saucers. Apparently there had been an amusing cartoon about little green men in a recent edition of the New Yorker.

The conversation got serious (sort of) when Fermi suddenly asked: “but where is everybody?” Everyone at the table laughed, but Fermi’s question and the not-entirely-serious discussion that followed would become the basis of what we now call the Fermi paradox.

As a matter of statistics and probability, it seems like advanced alien civilizations should be out there somewhere. There are over 100 billion stars in our galaxy. Many (if not most) of these stars have planets orbiting them. Some of these planets must surely support life, and in at least a few cases intelligent life—life capable of developing interstellar travel.

Even without faster-than-light technology, one or more of these space-faring civilizations could conceivably spread across the whole galaxy in just a few million years. The galaxy is far, far older than that. There’s been plenty of time for the aliens to do it. So where is everybody? Shouldn’t we have heard from somebody by now?

Or so Fermi argued over his club sandwich (or whatever he was eating) in a half-serious conversation about flying saucers. Of course there are plenty of objections to Fermi’s line of reasoning here, but I’m not going to weigh in on that. Not today. I’m saving my opinion for Monday’s post.

Sciency Words: Magnetar

Today’s post is part of a special series here on Planet Pailly called Sciency Words. Each week, we take a closer look at an interesting science or science-related term to help us expand our scientific vocabularies together. Today’s term is:

MAGNETAR

Space has a lot of cool ways to kill you. This one’s especially nifty! Magnetars are neutron stars with intensely powerful magnetic fields. Like, absurdly powerful magnetic fields.

Fly your spaceship near a magentar, and that overpowered magnetic field will start pulling the electrons off your atoms. This will kill you. It’ll destroy your spaceship too. Without those electrons, chemical bonds don’t work. Your molecules will unravel, and you and your ship will just disintegrate.

Even from a distance, magnetars are a menace. In 2004, a strong burst of gamma radiation washed over Earth, compressing our planet’s magnetic field and partially ionizing our atmosphere. That gamma radiation came from a magnetar on the other side of the galaxy.

If a magnetar could do that to us from so far away, just think what it must have done to any alien civilizations that happened to live closer. I can’t help but imagine there’s a vast dead zone on the other side of the galaxy, with magnetar SGR 1806-20 right in the middle.

The good news is that magnetars don’t last long. Their magnetic fields decay rapidly, so these raging monsters turn into regular neutron stars within a few thousand years. Also, while their outbursts of gamma rays and X-rays can affect our planet, there aren’t any magnetars close enough to Earth to really threaten us.

Oh wait. Yes there are. Sort of.

Sneezing in Space

So in case you were wondering: yes, astronauts do sometimes sneeze in their spacesuits. And no, there’s nothing they can do about it when it happens. The sneeze just splatters on the helmet’s faceplate.

I believe I first read about this in one of those Time Magazine specials I reviewed last year (click here or here).

The thing I really want to know is how the force of the sneeze affects the astronaut’s motion, especially when the astronaut is not wearing a helmet. For example, what happens when an astronaut is floating freely aboard the I.S.S. or some other spacecraft and suddenly sneezes?

I’d imagine the force of the sneeze could have some amusing propulsive effects in microgravity.

TRAPPIST-1: A Sky Full of Planets

Okay, one more post about TRAPPIST-1 and its seven planets, and then I promise I’ll move on to another topic. But this is something that’s just too awesome for me to skip.

You know that goofy trope you sometimes see in Sci-Fi movies or comic books? The one where the hero is standing on the surface of some alien planet and there are a whole bunch of other planets in the sky? Like, not just a moon or two, but a ton of huge planets looming over the horizon.

Well, apparently if you stood on the surface of one of the planets in the TRAPPIST-1 system, you’d be able to look up and see the other planets in the sky. Not just as tiny points of light but as large orbs.

The planets of TRAPPIST-1 are packed extremely close together, it seems. Several articles I’ve read, such as this one from Spaceflight 101, suggest that weather patterns and surface features would be visible to the naked eye.

I’m guessing the view would not be quite as epic as what I drew for the illustration above, but still… it would be stunning to see it. Just remember to bring proper radiation gear. TRAPPIST-1 is still a flare star.