Katherine E. Whitaker

A distant red object usually means one thing: we're seeing a dust veil over a scorching disk falling into a black hole. But when the James Webb split its light into shades, a shadow appeared inside — just like steam from boiling water intercepts rays.

In the first few hundred million years after the Big Bang, the cosmos was like a noisy teen club: galaxies flared up, collided, and churned out stars by the hundreds.

The first two billion years after the Big Bang were an era when the universe resembled a boiling construction pit. Dark matter clumped the gas together, igniting the first stars. It seemed there simply wasn't enough time to assemble massive elliptical galaxies—'dormant' stellar metropolises — from this raw material.

The JWST spectrograph caught a barely perceptible dip in the spectrum of a distant galaxy — two lines, like shadows cast by cold gas. These are the sodium lines, the very yellow light of streetlamps. Here, at the edge of the visible Universe, they betray the slow exhalation of a galaxy returning matter to space.