B. Dey

In 2016, the LHCb detector at the Large Hadron Collider recorded millions of proton-proton collisions. Among the debris of these collisions, neutral B mesons were born—particles that can spontaneously transform into their antiparticles and back.

There's no tool to measure distances to faraway galaxies, but nature left a clue: after the Big Bang, sound waves created rhythmic clumps of matter. Today, this is noticeable as a slight preference for galaxies to be at a certain distance from each other — a built-in ruler.

In the LHCb detector at the Large Hadron Collider, protons collide, and for a fleeting moment, particles that don't exist in ordinary matter are born. One of them is the neutral B meson. It lives for less than a billionth of a second and decays into two other particles: the narrow resonance J/ψ and the broader ρ(770).

In a giant particle accelerator, where protons traveling at nearly the speed of light smash into a neon target, charmed baryons are born — particles that live for less than a billionth of a second.

Proton collisions at the Large Hadron Collider produce particles that live for less than a billionth of a second. One of them is the Bs meson, made of a strange quark and a bottom antiquark.

In the LHCb detector, like in a giant camera with billions of 'snapshots,' rare events are captured: how short-lived particles, B mesons, fall apart into lighter ones. One such decay, where a B meson turns into a kaon and a pair of muons, is particularly interesting. In it, as in a mirror, the difference between matter and antimatter may show up.

In proton collisions at the Large Hadron Collider, physicists have for the first time caught a particle with two charm quarks. It is called Ξcc+ (pronounced "ksi-ksi-plus") and resembles a bead with not one but two heavy nuclei.

In Chile's Atacama Desert stands a telescope that doesn't look at stars, but at the oldest light in the Universe — the cosmic microwave background. This light has been traveling to us for nearly 14 billion years, ever since the Universe became transparent. On its way, it passed through clouds of hot gas around galaxies.

If you toss a handful of sand into calm water, the ripples spread out evenly. Likewise, matter after the Big Bang should have flown out equally in all directions. But in reality, the galaxy map shows a slight ripple — here a few more, there a few less. This ripple is the imprint of those first moments, when space had not yet become perfectly smooth.

Every second, billions of decays happen inside our bodies, and nobody notices. But physicists do: they smash particles in accelerators and watch what fragments they fly into. Hidden in those fragments is the answer to why we exist at all. Right after the Universe was born, there were equal amounts of particles and antiparticles, but today all we see around us is particles.

Imagine a balance scale with identical weights, yet one pan always tips lower. In the world of elementary particles, this imbalance is called CP violation: particles and their mirror twins (antiparticles) behave slightly differently.

In the LHCb detector, where protons collide, one unusual track was found among billions of decays. The particle, named $$D_{s1}$$(2933)^+, appears for a moment and immediately decays into other particles. Its lifetime is so short that it cannot be observed directly — only through its decay products can its existence be reconstructed.

A coin landing on its edge is about as rare as a heavy B meson decaying into a light pion and an electron-positron pair. Over a decade of collider operation, only a handful of such events have accumulated, but physicists have finally managed to spot them. The decay probability is about 2.4×10⁻⁸.

At the Large Hadron Collider, protons are smashed together, and among the debris, a heavyweight particle, the lambda baryon, sometimes appears. It lives for a tiny fraction of a second before decaying into other particles.

A harbor lives by the tide schedule. Water rises and falls, and with it everything changes: the level at the dock, the composition of the sediment on the bottom, even the salinity in the far corners. A galaxy works similarly, except instead of water it has gas, and instead of the Moon, it has its own stars and neighboring clouds.