Gamma radiation

The blue glow in water around a nuclear reactor is light born when a charged particle outruns light in that medium. The effect was discovered by Pavel Cherenkov in 1934, with the theory provided by Igor Tamm and Ilya Frank.

A particle with an energy of $$10^{18}$$ eV hitting Earth's atmosphere is like a tennis ball traveling at 200 km/h slamming into a wall. Astrophysicists have debated for decades where such projectiles come from. Gamma-ray bursts, brief and powerful explosions of gamma radiation, have long been suspected as accelerators.

At the center of the Milky Way, where the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A* churns gas clouds like a millstone, astronomers have caught an irregular pulse. Gamma-ray emission, the most energetic light in the universe, arrives not as a smooth wave but with a break, as if the Galaxy's heart beats with arrhythmia.

Gamma rays are the most energetic light in the Universe. But one part of them, the medium-energy range, long remained invisible: instruments couldn't catch them, leaving a gaping hole in the sky. Scientists call it the "MeV gap," named after the unit of energy these rays carry. The new camera works like a three-layer detective.

In the southern sky, behind a dense veil of dust, hides a source of gamma rays — the most energetic light in the Universe. It shines so brightly that it can be seen even through this veil, but the object itself remains invisible. Astronomers pointed the ALMA radio telescope at the neighboring gas clouds and saw a pattern that gave the invisible object away.

Dark matter is the invisible scaffolding of the universe. It's there, we know from the motion of stars and galaxies, but what this scaffolding is made of remains unknown. One guess is ultra-light particles similar to axions. They barely interact with ordinary matter, yet occasionally they do get involved.

An electron is not just a point. It is a probability cloud, smeared out in space. When such a cloud collides with a powerful laser pulse, it can emit a high-energy photon — a gamma quantum. And this photon can be not just ordinary but twisted, like a corkscrew, carrying orbital angular momentum.

The universe is like a vast invisible scaffold. We don't see it directly, but we know it's there: galaxies and clusters hold together thanks to it. This scaffold is dark matter. The most popular version says it is "cold," made of heavy, slow-moving particles.

Eight bright spots on the radio sky. They are all the same quasar HS 0810+2554, whose light passed through a gravitational lens — a massive foreground galaxy.

The mystery of antimatter in space has long puzzled astrophysicists: where do positrons come from, settling like snowflakes into our detectors? The answer might lurk in the most ubiquitous gamma-ray background. The Universe is soaked in diffuse light — the cosmic photon background (CPB).

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.

A cosmic detective story spanning a decade and a half has turned up an unexpected clue. The Fermi telescope, which scans the sky in gamma rays, has detected a steady, faint glow enveloping the entire Milky Way. It looks nothing like the light from stars or hot gas — more like a dim, all-pervasive haze.

A collision of two neutron stars is a cosmic forge where the heaviest elements of the periodic table are hammered out in seconds. In 2017, detectors picked up gravitational waves from such a merger, and telescopes saw a flash — a kilonova.

In the constellation Aquila, about 40,000 light-years away, one of the most powerful natural accelerators in the Galaxy is at work. It's the microquasar GRS 1915+105—a pair consisting of an ordinary star and a black hole.

A lighthouse sends its beam through a storm of its own mirrors: that's roughly how fast radio bursts behave when trying to leave a magnetar's vicinity. A magnetar is a neutron star with a magnetic field a quadrillion times stronger than Earth's.

Stars are born in cold clouds of cosmic dust and hydrogen. Inside these cocoons, protostars — the cores of future suns — were long thought to be just hot clumps. But it turns out many of them are powerful accelerators: they shoot out narrow jets of gas that, slamming into surrounding matter, produce invisible gamma-ray light.

Blazars are long-lasting beams from black holes at the centers of galaxies. Gamma-ray bursts are the briefest flashes from supernova explosions or neutron star mergers. The former act like eternal spotlights, the latter like camera flashes.

Light passes through a crumpled film — and comes out slightly altered. In much the same way, gravitational waves born in the early universe feel the lumpy distribution of galaxies and dark matter.

At the heart of nearly every large galaxy lives a supermassive black hole — a silent giant around which stars, gas, and other, smaller black holes orbit. From time to time, one of these objects breaks free from its orbit and begins to fall toward the central monster in a tightening spiral.

A swarm of tiny ice balls is scattered across a warm room. Some melt faster, others slower, but when only wet spots remain, they all vanish in the same way: the last drop evaporates according to the same law. This is roughly how primordial black holes behave — hypothetical objects born in the first moments after the big bang.

A dead star with a magnetic field billions of times stronger than Earth's is a magnetar. Its crust cracks, sending a powerful X-ray burst into space. But some of that light doesn't reach us in its usual form. In an ultra-strong field, photons can turn into gravitational waves — the trembling of space itself.

Gravitational waves are ripples in the very fabric of spacetime, akin to vibrations of a giant cosmic string. Conventional detectors like LIGO and Virgo pick up low-frequency "notes"—disturbances from mergers of massive black holes of stellar masses.

A shockwave erupts from the star's surface, and for a brief moment, a blinding flash of ultraviolet and X-rays is born. This very event, named EP260321a, was spotted by the Einstein space telescope in March 2026. The light took about 450 million years to reach Earth.

A factory laser that cuts and welds metal on production lines has been made to work as a particle accelerator for the first time. Physicists took a standard ytterbium laser, its heart is a crystal the size of a palm, and turned its flashes into a tool for accelerating electrons to nearly the speed of light.

Cosmologists staged a showdown between two kinds of cosmic explosions. Type Ia supernovae are stars that flare up with nearly identical brightness, making them reliable beacons for measuring distances across the universe.

A black hole is a cosmic pocket into which everything, even light, falls. But the pioneering work of John Wheeler, Stephen Hawking, and Roger Penrose showed: sometimes, due to the colossal spacetime curvature, the pocket turns inside out.

A giant drum has just taken a hit. Its membrane is still trembling, but besides the main boom, a fine ripple spreads across it — someone ran a finger over the taut skin. In much the same way, in the first moments after the Big Bang, spacetime vibrated not only with the "roar" of expansion but also with the tension of suddenly emerging magnetic fields.

A city at night from above: bright streetlights, glowing windows, car headlights. Astronomers see the center of our Galaxy in much the same way — only not in ordinary light but in gamma rays. And there, among the familiar lights, a strange, uniform glow emerges. It cannot be attributed to any known source. This excess is called the Galactic-center excess (GCE).

A spotlight shines ever brighter, but at some limit the bulb suddenly burns out, and no more light comes through. Astrophysicists have seen something similar in the distant blazar Markarian 421. This is an active galaxy whose jet of superheated plasma points almost straight at Earth, like the beam of a cosmic lighthouse.

In the first moments after the Big Bang, the universe was a boiling cauldron. But then, according to a new hypothesis, it suddenly cooled dramatically — far more than previously thought. In this icy world, dark matter particles, like tiny pendulums, froze and did not begin their oscillations.

A flashlight doesn't cast a uniform circle of light; it has a bright spot in the center and a blurred halo at the edges. If you switch it off quickly, the edges are the last to fade, and by how the light dies, you can guess the shape of the reflector.

The center of the Milky Way has long puzzled astronomers: around the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A* there are more gamma rays than expected.

At the very heart of the Milky Way, something is glowing, but not with starlight; with gamma rays invisible to the eye.

Radio waves from a gamma-ray burst — the cataclysmic death of a massive star whose flash briefly outshines an entire galaxy — reach Earth polarized. This means their electric field oscillates predominantly in a single plane, like a compass needle frozen in a magnetic field.

Every second, invisible projectiles from the depths of space pierce through us. These are cosmic rays — atomic nuclei accelerated to speeds nearly indistinguishable from the speed of light. Their energy is hundreds of millions of times greater than what our most powerful accelerators can achieve. Where does this monstrous force come from?

A gamma-ray burst is like a shot from a cosmic cannon. First a brief flash of light, then a fading afterglow. But inside that flash, things aren't so simple: its color and brightness don't change at the same time.

At the very heart of the Milky Way, something is continuously glowing in gamma rays. This light is special: its energy is exactly 511 thousand electronvolts. Such energy is produced when an electron meets its antimatter counterpart, a positron, and they annihilate, leaving behind a flash of light.

When a carbon ion beam enters the body, it doesn't release energy all at once but rather at the end of its path, like a runner who gives their all on the final stretch. Doctors need to know this finish point to avoid damaging healthy tissue. But how can you look inside the body without making an incision?

An atom in a light trap is like a marble in a shallow pit: it jitters but doesn't jump out. The light that holds the atom also gives it a slight push, and the stronger the pushes, the harder it is to see the atom itself.

Gamma-ray burst GRB 221009A flared so brightly that it was dubbed the 'brightest of all time.' The LHAASO observatory detected gamma rays from it with energies up to 13 TeV — thousands of times more energetic than particles in an X-ray machine.