Denny
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A star like the Sun will end its days, as we have seen, as a
red giant and then a white
dwarf. A collapsing star twice as massive as the Sun will become a
supernova and then a neutron
star. But a more massive star, left, after its supernova phase, with,
say, five times the Sun’s mass,
has an even more remarkable fate reserved for it - its gravity will
turn it into a black hole.
Suppose we had a magic gravity machine - a device with which we could
control the Earth’s
gravity, perhaps by turning a dial. Initially the dial is set at 1 g*
and everything behaves as we
have grown up to expect. The animals and plants on Earth and the
structures of our buildings are
all evolved or designed for 1 g. If the gravity were much less, there
might be tall, spindly shapes
that would not be tumbled or crushed by their own weight. If the
gravity were much more, plants
and animals and architecture would have to be short and squat and
sturdy in order not to collapse.
But even in a fairly strong gravity field, light would travel in a
straight line, as it does, of course,
in everyday life.
* 1 g is the acceleration experienced by falling objects on
the Earth, almost 10 meters per second every
second. A falling rock will reach a speed of 10 meters per second
after one second of fall, 20 meters per second after
two seconds, and so on until it strikes the ground or is slowed by
friction with the air. On a world where the
gravitational acceleration was much greater, falling bodies would
increase their speed by correspondingly greater
amounts. On a world with 10 g acceleration, a rock would travel 10 x
10 m/sec or almost 100 m/sec after the first
second, 200 m/sec after the next second, and so on. A slight stumble
could be fatal. The acceleration due to gravity
should always be written with a lowercase g, to distinguish it from
the Newtonian gravitational constant, G, which is
a measure of the strength of gravity everywhere in the universe, not
merely on whatever world or sun we are
discussing. (The Newtonian relationship of the two quantities is F =
mg = GMm/r2 2
;
g = GM/r , where F is the
gravitational force, M is the mass of the planet or star, m is the
mass of the falling object, and r is the distance from
the falling object to the center of the planet or star.)
Consider a possibly typical group of Earth beings, Alice and
her friends from Alice in
Wonderland at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. As we lower the gravity,
things weigh less. Near 0 g
the slightest motion sends our friends floating and tumbling up in the
air. Spilled tea - or any
other liquid - forms throbbing spherical globs in the air: the surface
tension of the liquid
overwhelms gravity. Balls of tea are everywhere. If now we dial 1 g
again, we make a rain of tea.
When we increase the gravity a little - from 1 g to, say, 3 or 4 g’s -
everyone becomes
immobilized: even moving a paw requires enormous effort. As a kindness
we remove our friends
from the domain of the gravity machine before we dial higher gravities
still. The beam from a
lantern travels in a perfectly straight line (as nearly as we can see)
at a few g’s, as it does at 0 g.
At 1000 g’s, the beam is still straight, but trees have become
squashed and flattened; at 100,000
g’s, rocks are crushed by their own weight. Eventually, nothing at all
survives except, through a
special dispensation, the Cheshire cat. When the gravity approaches a
billion g’s, something still
more strange happens. The beam of light, which has until now been
heading straight up into the
sky, is beginning to bend. Under extremely strong gravitational
accelerations, even light is
affected. If we increase the gravity still more, the light is pulled
back to the ground near us. Now
the cosmic Cheshire cat has vanished; only its gravitational grin
remains.
When the gravity is sufficiently high, nothing, not even
light, can get out. Such a place is
called a black hole. Enigmatically indifferent to its surroundings, it
is a kind of cosmic Cheshire
cat. When the density and gravity become sufficiently high, the black
hole winks out and
disappears from our universe. That is why it is called black: no light
can escape from it. On the
inside, because the light is trapped down there, things may be
attractively well-lit. Even if a black
hole is invisible from the outside, its gravitational presence can be
palpable. If, on an interstellar
voyage, you are not paying attention, you can find yourself drawn into
it irrevocably, your body
stretched unpleasantly into a long, thin thread. But the matter
accreting into a disk surrounding