Space Physics physics.space-ph

The Paraná River behaves like a seismograph that records not the shaking of the ground but the pulse of the Sun. A century of daily water-level measurements at the gauging station in the city of Corrientes, 900 kilometers from the river's mouth, shows that when the Sun has many sunspots, the river floods more. This connection is neither accidental nor weak.

A qubit, the heart of a quantum computer, is like a soap bubble: the slightest puff and it bursts. On Earth, gravity pulls bubbles down, creating vibrations, and the thermal hustle of atoms adds jitter. Entropy, the measure of this chaos, destroys quantum information.

The solar wind isn't a calm stream but a bubbling soup of charged particles. Diving close to the Sun, the Parker probe picked up two types of stirring waves. Left-handed ones, like a whisk in a chef's hand, whip up the material when the temperature differs along and across the flow.

Betelgeuse is a giant star ready to explode as a supernova. But it may not be alone: a small companion star, Sivarkha, circles in a tight orbit. Every 2000 days, it plunges through Betelgeuse’s outer layers, like a boat cutting through water, leaving waves of superheated gas.

In a hot gas of charged particles — plasma — chaotic electric fields work like a sieve. A slow particle gets surrounded by a cloud of opposite charges, which cancels the external field. A fast one sheds this armor and gets accelerated.

Lunar dust looks like gray sand, but there's not a breath of air in it. Oxygen is there — tightly bound in the rocks, like sugar in caramel. To get it out, you need to break chemical bonds, and scientists are looking for the simplest way. In the lab, they took artificial lunar soil made from samples from the Apollo missions and China's Chang'e.

You can't catch X-rays from stars with an ordinary mirror: they pass through glass like light through a window pane. To reflect them, you need a mirror almost parallel to the beam: then the X-rays skim along the surface like a flat stone skipping on water, only slightly changing direction.

A solar flare is like a shot from a giant cannon: it blasts a stream of charged particles into space. When that stream reaches Earth, the planet's magnetic field usually deflects it, but in polar regions, particles penetrate the atmosphere.

On March 30, 2022, two spacecraft — BepiColombo and STEREO-A — simultaneously felt a shockwave from the Sun. The first was at 0.6 times the Earth-Sun distance, the second at exactly one such distance.

The Parker Solar Probe and Solar Orbiter spacecraft fly close to the Sun and measure the solar wind — the stream of charged particles that constantly blows from our star.

In a cloud where massive stars are being born, there is a hot, dense core. Like a crowded kitchen where the heat of the stove makes smells evaporate, here the warmth from young stars evaporates molecules from the surface of cosmic dust grains.

Two aging spacecraft, launched back in 1977, are flying through interstellar space — the region where the Sun's influence fades. The Sun doesn't just shine; it continuously blows a stream of charged particles that forms a giant bubble around our system — the heliosphere.

The Sun regularly produces explosions that hurl huge clouds of charged particles into space. Such a cloud travels toward Earth and can knock out satellites, disrupt radio communications, and even leave cities without electricity.

Every second, invisible particles from space, cosmic rays, strike Earth's atmosphere. Colliding with air molecules, they produce showers of secondary particles, among which muons are especially abundant. A muon is a heavy cousin of the electron that lives only a couple of microseconds but still manages to reach the ground.

The Sun sometimes hurls vast clouds of charged particles into space. Usually, the fastest ones, with the highest energy, arrive at the probe first, like sprinters on a long-distance track.

October 10, 2024. The Sun hurled a cloud of magnetized plasma toward Earth, and four spacecraft, stationed at a single point between the Sun and Earth, simultaneously recorded how that cloud churned. The distance between the outermost probes was just 80 Earth radii, about half a million kilometers.

The Sun constantly emits a stream of charged particles — the solar wind. Among them are many electrons, some of which fly back toward the Sun. But observations show that fewer electrons return than expected.

Plasma isn't just hot gas; it's a mix of charged particles that constantly move and generate magnetic fields. When plasma churns, these fields intertwine like spaghetti in a boiling pot. Scientists simulated what happens when the churning subsides and turbulence decays.

In plasma where some atoms remain neutral, magnetic field lines can rearrange at different speeds. This is like two rubber bands that are initially stuck together, then suddenly snap apart and contract, releasing energy.

In the 1940s, long before modern sensors, instruments on Earth were already catching particles from space. When a powerful flare erupted on the Sun, it ejected a stream of charged particles — solar energetic particles.

In 2017, a stone fell from the sky in the Indian village of Mukhundpura. It was a rare carbonaceous meteorite — a chunk of ancient cosmic material that preserves traces of the birth of the solar system. Locals quickly gathered the fragments, and they ended up in a laboratory.

The Sun is not a calm sphere. Waves constantly ripple through its interior, like a bell after being struck. These oscillations reach the surface and reveal what's happening on the far, invisible side. Astronomers have long been able to 'listen' to this ringing and find large sunspot groups there.

Ahead of the bow shock that Earth creates in the solar wind, giant bubbles of rarefied gas sometimes appear. Inside them, particle density drops by factors, and electric fields start to tremble like a plucked string.

Titan, Saturn's largest moon, is wrapped in a thick orange haze. It's made of hydrocarbons and other organic molecules that are born when sunlight breaks apart methane and nitrogen in the upper atmosphere.

For eight consecutive years, two different methods of measuring the temperature of the solar corona have given different answers. One instrument, a radio telescope in Nancay, sees 600 thousand degrees. The other approach, calculating from how the gas is distributed with height, requires 1.5 million.

Above Jupiter's poles, auroras blaze as electrons are accelerated by electric fields and slam into the upper atmosphere, making the gas glow. But not all electrons head downward. Some, it turns out, get a kick in the opposite direction — away from the planet, into deep space.

Galileo, legend has it, dropped balls from the Tower of Pisa to prove that heavy and light objects fall equally. This law formed the foundation of Einstein's theory of gravity. Today, scientists have turned an entire space station into such a tower.

Around distant icy bodies the size of a city, circling beyond Neptune, rings of dust and ice have been found. Small moons often whirl nearby. Mathematical analysis shows that a moon's gravity rocks the ring like a swing, making it tilt.

On old photographic plates from the 1950s, astronomers found hundreds of thousands of brief flashes. Brightness measurements confirmed they weren't defects but real events linked to solar activity.

A radio signal travels from Mars to Earth, but on the way it has to push through the invisible "wind" of charged particles blowing from the Sun. This wind, like ripples on water, slightly distorts radio waves.

The solar wind isn't a smooth flow: it's gusty. Inside it, protons and helium nuclei don't all travel at the same speed; they spread out like droplets in a hose stream. Usually, this spread is described by a simple bell-shaped curve.

The Moon isn't just hanging in the sky: it leaves behind a long tail of disturbed solar wind. The stream of charged particles from the Sun flows around the rocky sphere, and behind it forms a zone where particles are almost absent. But this emptiness is not simple: electric fields arise in it that push apart the remaining electrons and ions.

Three satellites will drift apart in the heliocentric void, forming a triangle with sides of three million kilometers.

Enceladus is a tiny moon of Saturn, covered in a thick crust of ice. Beneath it sloshes a salty ocean, and deep down, a hot, porous core may be at work, like a sponge soaked with water and heat. But how do you see through tens of kilometers of ice? No need to drill: you can use an electromagnetic "echo." A person with a metal detector walks along a beach.

The birth of the universe resembles not an explosion, but a traffic jam. At first, a tiny fraction of a second after the Big Bang, space expanded sluggishly, like cars stuck in gridlock. Then came a sharp surge — accelerated expansion, which cosmologists call inflation.

If you stick two identical thermometers into a pot of hot water, they'll both read the same, and we relax, thinking the temperature is measured correctly. But in a rarefied gas heated to millions of degrees, this trick stops working.

The aurora borealis is like a distant theater: the show may be on, but whether the audience sees it depends on the curtain. Here, the curtain is clouds and moonlight. Earlier forecasts tried to predict both the occurrence of auroras and viewing conditions at once, mixing everything together.

A pebble the size of a grape enters the atmosphere almost tangentially and skims across the sky without falling. That's exactly what happened to a meteoroid weighing about 45 grams. It came in at such a shallow angle that it traveled 164 kilometers at an altitude of 92 kilometers — where the air is a million times thinner than at the surface.

In the quiet of a laboratory, a graphite flake hovers above a magnetic grid. This is not just a demo of diamagnetism's magic — it's listening to the Universe. Like a spider casting its web to catch vibrations from an invisible world, this flake has become a gravitational web.

The Sun is a boiling cauldron of hydrogen and helium, where scorching gas is caught in magnetic snares. When invisible ropes reconnect, energy comparable to billions of thermonuclear explosions is released. Where does it go?