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When an orchestra of thousands of musicians plays in harmony, the credit goes not only to each player's talent but also to the invisible work of the conductor.

Two hundred forty-two thousand three hundred twenty-seven galaxies — like grains of sand on a beach. But astronomers turned this chaos into a map: the UMAP algorithm (a machine learning method) took from each galaxy eleven parameters — seven colors from optical to mid-infrared (that's photometry), magnitude…

In 2034, a rocket leaves a spaceport with an unusual payload: two spheres the size of a large globe, each weighing nearly a ton. No engines, no electronics. Just a mirrored surface of hundreds of corner-cube reflectors — tiny prisms that return light exactly to where it came from. This is the future space tuning fork.

The Universe is a giant concert hall, where instead of walls and balconies, invisible clouds of dark matter float. This architectural ensemble is not static: it refracts and scatters the 'music' rushing through it — gravitational waves from merging black holes.

Every night the sky above the Vera Rubin Observatory flares with ten million transient lights — astronomical transients.

In the 1930s, Fritz Zwicky first noticed that galaxies in clusters were moving too fast — something invisible was holding them. Later, Vera Rubin measured the rotation of spiral galaxies, confirming that space is permeated by dark matter.

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 stone falls into a well, and the splash reaches your ears with a delay. Something similar happens to light as it leaves Earth: its oscillations become less frequent, the beam seems to 'tire.' This is gravitational redshift — a phenomenon Einstein spoke of a century ago.

A conventional lidar is like an artist who paints a landscape but sees only gray shadows. It measures distances to each point accurately, but can't tell whether it's looking at rock, wood, or plastic. To learn the composition, you need a spectrometer — a separate device that works slowly and can't keep up with a fast scanner. The new system takes a different approach.

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.

The night sky sometimes throws up riddles that take your breath away. One of them is a ring of galaxies stretching across a third of the horizon. Astronomers have named it the “Giant Ring on the Sky”: a cluster of galaxies stretched into a thin filament and closed into a circle about 400 megaparsecs in diameter.

The FAST radio telescope in China is a giant dish half a kilometer in diameter, nestled in a natural sinkhole among mountains.

A giant magnifying glass made of gravity zoomed in on a distant galaxy, and astronomers got a peek into its chemical kitchen.

When an exoplanet briefly eclipses its star, starlight passes through its air and absorbs its chemical taste. This technique, the transit method, is the core of how the James Webb telescope works.

Light from a distant galaxy traveled to us for 13.4 billion years. The James Webb Space Telescope caught it and split it into colors. The spectrum shows a bright hydrogen line, like a fingerprint saying that galaxy GS-z13-1-LA is actively forming stars. Young hot stars inside the galaxy act like floodlights.

Some stars end their lives as white dwarfs — dense remnants the size of a planet. A small fraction of these objects have very strong magnetic fields, millions of times more powerful than a refrigerator magnet. Such stars are called magnetic white dwarfs.

In October 2022, the cosmos put on a fireworks show that every detector on Earth noticed. The explosion, named GRB 221009A, was so bright that it was called the brightest ever observed. It's a gamma-ray burst — a short but incredibly powerful flash that releases as much energy in seconds as the Sun will produce in its entire lifetime.

A dense fog, through which only occasional headlight beams pierce. So it was in the early universe: young galaxies were wrapped in clouds of neutral hydrogen, which eagerly absorbed ultraviolet light. But sometimes gaps appeared in this shroud, and ionizing radiation burst out, making the cosmos transparent.

Light from a star travels for millions of years, yet in a telescope it still appears as a point: it's just too far away. To see a star's surface, you need an instrument the size of a city. In Chile, such a giant is already under construction: ELT with a 39-meter mirror made of 798 hexagonal segments.

In the vast COSMOS field, where telescopes scrutinize thousands of distant galaxies, a special group stands out: four clumps of young galaxies spread over a patch of sky the size of several full moons. The main clump is so dense that it contains four times as many galaxies as the average across the sky.

Light from a distant star, after passing through air and telescope lenses, loses its sharpness, like looking at a streetlamp through wet glass. Astronomers call this blur the telescope's "fingerprint": each instrument has its own, and you need to know it down to the smallest detail.

Galaxies, like giant whirlpools, sometimes collide and merge. In this chaos, gas compresses, new stars flare up, and a bright radio beacon is born at the very center. Its light — not visible to the eye, but radio waves — pierces through dust and gas like a siren through fog.

The Bullet Cluster is a cosmic collision site where two vast clouds of galaxies, gas, and invisible matter slammed into each other. When light from distant stars passes near such a cluster, gravity bends its path like a lens. Astronomers study these distortions to work out where the mass is hiding.

Light from the hottest young stars usually cannot leave its galaxy: hydrogen absorbs it, like a thick curtain blocking a sunbeam. But sometimes the curtain parts, and ultraviolet photons burst into intergalactic space.

Throw pebbles along a tight row of posts: they ricochet into a dense spray. Throw at an angle, and they scatter. Gamma rays in a crystal do the same: they spawn particle cascades that spread out unless the crystal’s atomic rows are perfectly aligned. Align them within a hair’s width, and the cascade sharpens into a tight beam. A small crystal then outperforms a large one.

Brown dwarfs are heavier than planets but lighter than stars. Their atmospheres resemble a bubbling pot: clouds of scorching sand and iron droplets rise and fall.

When Edwin Hubble discovered the expansion of the universe, and Vera Rubin discovered dark matter, the framework of cosmology seemed solid.

Dark matter is the invisible scaffold of the Universe, revealing itself only through gravity. Vera Rubin, studying the rotation of galaxies, found that stars at the periphery move too fast, as if held by an unseen mass. This became compelling evidence for the existence of dark matter, yet its particles still elude direct detection.

At the heart of many galaxies lies an invisible beacon — a supermassive black hole. As it devours matter, it blasts a dazzling beam of gamma rays into space. If that beam points towards Earth, astronomers see a blazar — a bright but fickle point.

The light from a distant galaxy split into two, then three, then four, and in the center a fifth ghost appeared. That is HerS-3: a young galaxy full of dust and newborn stars, whose light passed through a gravitational lens, a massive object that bends rays like a magnifying glass bends light.