black hole formation mechanism

A homogeneous, spherical cloud of cosmic dust begins to contract under its own gravity. At some point, by classical laws, it should collapse into a point of infinite density — a singularity.

A black hole is not just an abyss. It is a seething cauldron whose temperature rises as it evaporates. The authors of the study found that when the heat reaches a critical threshold, the hole seems to boil. It emits superheavy particles — the very ones that exist on a scale where any theory of gravity collapses.

In the galaxy NGC 1052 DF2, stars move at only 8 kilometers per second, as if there were no invisible mass around. For comparison: in our Milky Way, outlying stars accelerate to 200 kilometers per second, held by a massive dark matter halo.

A branch falls into a whirlpool. It gets spun and broken, but sometimes a powerful fountain of water bursts from the center. Similarly, a black hole tears apart a passing star, and occasionally a blinding plasma jet, a jet, shoots into space.

A star runs out of fuel and rapidly collapses under its own gravity. According to classical ideas, it collapses into a point of infinite density — a singularity. But what if nature abhors infinities? In models of regular black holes, instead of a singularity, a dense core of unknown matter forms at the center.

The death of a massive star is not just the flash of a supernova, but also the birth of a black hole.

A black hole is like a spinning drop of viscous liquid. Normally, such a drop tends to stay whole: splitting would reduce its surface area, which contradicts the law of non-decrease of entropy (a measure of disorder, like a broken cup doesn't glue itself back together).

The hot broth of the early universe cooled unevenly. At some point, bubbles of a new phase began to pop within it, like steam bubbles in boiling water. But these bubbles weren't made of steam; they were made of a new state of matter in which particles of the dark sector clumped into larger lumps. That's how dark matter could have been born.

A black hole is like a whirlpool in the ocean: anything that falls in disappears forever. But if the whirlpool spins and carries a slight electric charge, and invisible axion particles (dark matter candidates) are buzzing around it, its surface stops being smooth.

Drop a stone into a pond, and ripples spread outward. Something similar happens inside compact clumps of dark matter when they encounter a special medium — a scalar field. This field, which pervades everything around us, can spontaneously intensify in the depths of such objects, much like ripples on water growing ever taller and more pronounced.

Two ocean liners sail at night without lights. One was built in a shipyard from steel plates, the other seems to have grown by itself from foam and waves. By ear they are almost indistinguishable, but an experienced hydroacoustician will catch the difference in the hum of the propellers and the contours of the hull.

Two black holes fly toward each other and collide head-on. In the familiar picture, their horizons (the surfaces from which not even light can escape) stretch toward each other like water droplets and merge into one smooth shape. But calculations show otherwise: before merging, a sharp beak, a cusp, extends from each horizon.

Drop a pebble into still water — ripples spread at once. Now strike a large church bell: first you hear a sharp clang, and only then a low hum swells. A black hole after a collision behaves more like a bell than a pond.

In the mid-20th century, astronomer Vera Rubin discovered that stars on the outskirts of galaxies were moving too fast — held by an invisible mass. Thus the mystery of dark matter was born. It doesn’t emit light but reveals itself through gravity. The big question: why is there exactly as much as we see?

The universe can behave like a spring: compressing to microscopic sizes and then expanding again. In this cycle of contraction and bounce, black holes and dark matter are born.

In 2014, astronomers spotted a massive yellow star in the Andromeda galaxy. By 2022, it had vanished without a trace — without the usual blinding explosion of a supernova. It was as if someone simply switched off the light.

The universe exists in a state of false vacuum, like water behind a dam. Behind it lies the true vacuum — an abyss with different laws. Normally, water can only seep through the pores in a thin trickle (a quantum effect), barely changing the level.

At the center of galaxy NGC 1600, 200 million light-years away, astronomers spotted a dense cluster of stars. It looked like a bright knot against the diffuse glow, and that was unexpected.

The James Webb Space Telescope has spotted a scattering of compact objects in the early universe, nicknamed 'little red dots.' They are too red and too dim to be ordinary quasars, and astrophysicists are scratching their heads over what powers them.