black hole wind

A vortex in a magnetic material is like a whirlpool, but instead of water, the directions of magnetization twist. An electron flying through such a vortex feels not just a magnetic field, but a curvature of space: its path bends as if it were rolling down a funnel with a narrow neck.

A disk of gas and dust spins around the young star HV Tau C, nearly edge-on to us. The James Webb Space Telescope examined its spectrum and detected the glow of hot molecular hydrogen (H₂). This revealed a wide, bipolar wind blasting from the inner regions far beyond the disk.

295 000 meters per second. Not even particles in solar coronal ejecta move that fast. But at the center of the galaxy cluster H1821+643, hot gas does exactly that. The quasar at its heart takes a breath, and its breath stirs everything around for 60 thousand light-years.

The fastest wind in the Universe travels at 0,58 times the speed of light. It covers the distance from Earth to the Moon in two seconds. This wind is not a jet stream but a broad flow of gas erupting from the center of a galaxy. Not all black holes work the same: some create such hurricanes, while others produce narrow plasma beams.

At the center of a distant galaxy, where a supermassive black hole weighing a hundred million suns spins, space is threaded with magnetic fields. They coil into tight vortices, like a drain in a sink, but instead of water, there's plasma whipped up to near-light speeds.

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.

The event horizon's edge is never calm. Quantum vacuum boils there, and particles sometimes burst out of this foam: that is how Stephen Hawking in 1974 discovered black hole radiation, forever linking gravity with quantum field theory.

A vast city lights new streetlamps every night. But then a hurricane sweeps in, rips all the fuel from the warehouses, and the lamps go out one by one. Something similar has been spotted by astronomers in a galaxy whose light has traveled 12.5 billion years to reach us.

At the center of many galaxies sits a supermassive black hole. When gas falls onto it, the gas heats up and shines brighter than an entire galaxy: this is an active galactic nucleus. Sometimes a true hurricane erupts from there: a stream of ionized gas racing at tens of percent of the speed of light.

A river flows toward a whirlpool, but a dam with a notch blocks the way. Most water piles up before the dam, but some, gaining height, leaps over it and falls straight into the funnel. So it is with gas in a galaxy: it streams toward the center but hits a ring of stars and gas, like a dam. Usually, everything stops there, swirling into a dense vortex.

The black hole MAXI J1810-222 behaves like a giant vacuum cleaner with a reverse valve: it pulls in matter, but some of it gets spat back out into space. This "backflow"—a stellar wind — had been spotted by astronomers before, but only as a blurry smudge in X-rays.

Around certain close binary stars, where a white dwarf siphons matter from its companion, astronomers have seen a glowing arc. They took it for a shock wave — the place where a fast stellar wind slams into interstellar gas. But new observations show: there's more than one arc.

At the heart of nearly every large galaxy lurks a supermassive black hole. As it devours gas, it blasts powerful outflows back into space, like a dragon that can't swallow all its prey and breathes fire. These 'winds' accelerate to thousands of kilometers per second and can sweep away the gas reservoirs from which stars are born.

At the center of galaxy VV 340a lies a supermassive black hole — an object with gravity so strong that even light cannot escape it. It emits a relativistic jet: a narrow stream of matter accelerated to near-light speeds.

A hair dryer aimed at a block of ice strips vapor and droplets from its surface, and the ice slowly melts. The wind from the center of our Galaxy works in much the same way: it picks up cold gas clouds and carries them away, heating and shredding them along the way. Astronomers decided to systematically search this flow for molecules, the coldest and densest form of gas, for the first time.

NGC 3627, a spiral beauty in the constellation Leo, harbors a trail that fits no standard scenario. A narrow band of cold gas, a molecular trail, stretches more than 8 kiloparsecs (thousands of parsecs, each about 3260 light-years) with a width of about 200 parsecs. That is like a thread as long as a football field and as thick as a pencil.

About 25,000 light-years from Earth, in the constellation Sagittarius, a dense veil wraps around the neutron star GX 13+1. It scatters X-ray photons the way fog scatters streetlight, and for a long time it hid the source's true power from astronomers.

At the center of the Milky Way, 27,000 light-years from Earth, lives the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A*. It weighs in at four million Suns. It does not flare brightly like quasars; instead, it smolders almost imperceptibly. For a long time, astronomers debated whether it blows a wind. Now we have the answer: it does.