electron capture

Atomic batteries powered by plutonium decay have been running pacemakers and space probes for over sixty years. But the raw material is scarce: worldwide, only a few kilograms of plutonium-238 are produced each year, barely enough for the most critical missions.

A spinning top whirls so fast that the air around it starts to rotate in unison. A black hole behaves in much the same way: if it spins, it can transfer its energy to particles that happen to be nearby. This process is called superradiance: it's like an echo in the mountains, but instead of sound, new particles are born.

The lifetime of the entangled triplet pair in the protein is about 60 picoseconds, which is eight times longer than in solution. Sunlight is like a continuous stream of balls flying at a wall.

In 1976, physicists predicted that an electron could do more than just fly past a nucleus: it could slam into it, transferring energy and making the nucleus 'shudder.' They called this effect NEEC — nuclear excitation by electron capture. But for nearly fifty years, no one has managed to observe it in an experiment.

In 2021, the LHAASO observatory registered gamma quanta with energies above a petaelectronvolt from sources like the Crab Nebula — a supernova remnant with a pulsating neutron star at its heart.

The Universe is a genius chef, and the Big Bang is its perfect recipe. Hydrogen rose fluffy, helium melted tender, but lithium-7 seems oversalted: theory predicts three times more than astronomers find in the oldest stars. This imbalance, the 'lithium problem,' has spoiled cosmologists' appetite for decades.

Neutron stars are super-dense spheres of the remnants of exploded stars. Some of them we see as pulsars — cosmic lighthouses sending out radio bursts. What's inside them long remained a mystery. Physicists assumed that hidden fields could affect their structure, but it was believed that if the field is short-range, its effect is negligible.

In diamond quantum devices, there's a tiny defect — the nitrogen-vacancy center (a nitrogen atom plus a vacancy where a carbon atom should be). It acts as a switch that spontaneously flips back and forth: it can carry an extra electron or not, and this determines whether it emits light or not.

A pool of the purest water, into which tiny, almost invisible droplets occasionally fall. Each leaves a barely perceptible ripple, and capturing it requires years of patience. That is what the hunt for solar neutrinos looks like in the DEAP-3600 detector — a huge vat of liquid argon hidden deep underground.

Light in an optical fiber runs along the core, barely escaping outside. But if you get very close, you can feel a faint trembling of the field at the surface — the evanescent wave. It is in this 'light fog' above the surface of a tiny silicon ring that physicists have caught a single rubidium atom.

A swing only gets going if you push it in rhythm. Miss the beat, and your effort is wasted. Light interacts with an atomic nucleus in much the same way: a photon is usually absorbed only when its energy exactly matches the gap between nuclear levels. But what if the photon's energy doesn't fit? The authors of a new study have found a workaround.

A laser hits a target of thin wires, and within tens of femtoseconds (billionths of a billionth of a second) knocks out a stream of protons. These protons fly into a converter made of lithium and deuterium, where neutrons are born.

A typical atom trap works like a funnel: laser light and a magnetic field slow atoms down and gather them at the center. But the funnel has a limit: it only catches atoms moving within a certain speed range.

In the basement of a laboratory in Jyväskylä, a trap holds a single atom aloft, like a magician balancing a ball on a fingertip. The tin-113 atom is unstable: sooner or later it captures one of its own electrons and becomes indium-113, emitting an elusive particle — the neutrino. How much energy is released in the process was previously known only approximately.

Inside the Sun, invisible nuclear transformations occur every second. One of them is the birth of boron-8: a beryllium-7 nucleus captures a passing proton and momentarily becomes a new element. This step kicks off a chain that ends with the emission of a neutrino — a particle capable of passing straight through Earth.

A gamma-ray spectrum looks like a picket fence: each line is the precise energy a nucleus released as a photon. But sometimes ghosts appear in that fence — faint lines shifted by the same amount from the main ones. Such a shift could mean that part of the energy went into creating a light particle we cannot yet see directly.

A neutron star is the dead core of a star that once exploded, compressed to the size of a city. If a normal star is nearby, the neutron star siphons matter from it like a vacuum cleaner. This matter falls onto the surface and forms a crust — a solid layer of neutron-rich atomic nuclei.

At CERN's antimatter factory, antiprotons are born with the energy of a bullet from a rifle. You can't just put them in a box: they instantly annihilate upon touching ordinary matter. So physicists devised a way to catch them in electromagnetic traps — invisible cages made of fields.

A tiny glass sphere floats in a laser beam like a speck of dust in sunlight. Inside it is radioactive lead, which decays from time to time. Each decay ejects charged particles, and the sphere loses or gains a tiny electric charge.

An atomic nucleus isn't always round. It can stretch out like a melon or flatten like a pumpkin. And its size depends on this shape — just as the size of a pie depends on the shape of the dough. Scientists calculated the shapes and sizes of nuclei of berkelium isotopes — a heavy element produced in reactors.

In the first minutes after the Big Bang, the Universe was like a blazing hot stove. On it, according to the 'recipe' of the standard theory, hydrogen, helium, and a bit of lithium were supposed to cook. But telescopes see only a third of the lithium that this recipe calls for.

A muon is like an electron, but about 200 times heavier. When it stops in a piece of silicon, it gets pulled into the atomic nucleus like a nail to a magnet. The nucleus gains extra energy and starts to "boil": various particles fly out — protons, deuterons, tritons, and alpha particles.

Igniting a miniature sun is a long-held dream of humanity. Typically, scientists try to confine scorching plasma (a gas of charged particles) at temperatures of hundreds of millions of degrees. But plasma tends to escape magnetic traps, and confinement comes at enormous cost.

A thin film of thorium dioxide, just 10 nanometers thick, is deposited on a steel disk. A laser pulse strikes it, but instead of the expected glow, the detector catches a stream of electrons.