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01x06 - The Man of a Trillion Worlds

Episode transcripts for the TV show, "Cosmos: Possible Worlds". Aired: March 9 – April 20, 2020.*

01x06 - The Man of a Trillion Worlds

Post by bunniefuu »

(crickets)

(owl hoot)

TYSON: John Goodricke was a

man who was permitted only the

briefest glimpse of the stars.

And yet, it could be said

that he made one of the

greatest discoveries of all.

He had been left completely

deaf by a childhood illness.

And maybe that's why

he looked so carefully.

On a clear summer night in 1784,

he went outside to see if

a particular star was still

doing something

that mystified him.

Something that no other

astronomer had ever reported before.

Goodricke couldn't

believe his own eyes.

The star, called Beta Lyrae,

changed regularly in brightness

over a very brief period of time.

Only days.

What could possibly

make a star do that?

Even more surprising,

Goodricke found that he could

predict its variations

with high accuracy.

What could cause such a

change in a star's brightness?

None of the scenarios that

came to mind explained the

evidence before him.

And then, he thought

of another possibility.

Suppose there was

something orbiting Beta Lyrae

that eclipsed the star

on a regular basis.

But what could it be?

"A world perhaps?"

How about a trillion?

(theme music plays)

♪♪

♪♪

Series brought to you by Sailor420

!!! Hope you enjoy the TV-Series !!!

TYSON: When John Goodricke's

discovery came to the attention

of the prestigious British

Royal Society in 1786,

he was immediately

made a member.

Word of this honor

never reached him,

days later he was

dead of pneumonia.

He was only 21.

It would be 150 years

before another astronomer

would solve Goodricke's mystery.

And in the process,

change our cosmos forever.

Even as a child, Gerard

Peter Kuiper could

see farther than anyone else.

He saw stars too distant

and too faint for others

to find without a telescope.

This was in the Netherlands

more than a century ago.

Back then, the son of

a poor tailor could not

hope to become an astronomer.

But the boy would

not be stopped.

Back then, astronomers thought

that the cosmos consisted of

only a handful of planets,

those of our own solar system.

The great multitude of other

stars were just barren points

of light that had never

given birth to worlds.

We on Earth could

still feel special.

Our star system,

the scientists told us,

was the rarest of all, one

blessed by worlds and moons.

Kuiper yearned to know

how our Sun and its planets

came to be.

And made his way to

the University of Leiden,

where he quickly

distinguished himself.

He was invited to join the

dynamic astronomical community

in the United States, but

Kuiper had rough edges,

he was argumentative

and easily drawn into conflict

with his colleagues.

The prospect of directing a

remote observatory far away

from the capitals of

scientific culture must have

appealed to him.

And besides, you could

see the stars better there

than just about anywhere else.

Kuiper was given an appointment

at the McDonald Observatory,

situated in a corner

of West Texas.

At the turn of the century, it

had been discovered that half

the visible stars were

really gravitational pairs.

Most binary stars

are like twins,

forming from the same

womb of gas and dust.

Others come of age separately

and become gravitationally

involved with each other

later in their development.

And the other half remain

single throughout their lives.

Kuiper chose to concentrate

on the binary stars.

He wondered if they could

shed light on the way that the

planets in our solar system

formed and came to be

gravitationally

bound to our Sun.

KUIPER: Bright ascension.

18 hours, 50 minutes.

Declination plus 33 degrees.

2175 minutes.

ASSISTANT: Mm-hmm.

TYSON: Kuiper looked

at the very same star that

had baffled John

Goodricke 150 years before,

but Kuiper was looking at it

with a much bigger telescope.

And Kuiper was armed with

an awesome power that didn't

exist in Goodricke's

time, spectroscopy.

Spectroscopy is a way

to dissect the light of any

single star to find its

particular atomic and

molecular composition.

Kuiper looked at the

spectrum of the light produced

by Beta Lyrae and saw

that, as with all stars,

there was plenty of

hydrogen and helium,

but there was also

iron sodium and silicon.

So far, no surprises there.

Now, here comes the twist.

Bright lines?

Where were those

bright lines coming from?

At that time, no astronomer

understood why bright lines

would appear in the

spectrum of a star.

Kuiper leapt to the

conclusion that the two stars

were so close that they

were exchanging matter,

super-hot gases that would

produce such a signature.

In trying to understand

what he had seen that night,

Kuiper discovered and

named the most interstellar

relationship in the cosmos.

Stars that are physically

locked in everlasting oneness,

bound together by

gravity and a bridge of fire

made of star stuff.

A bridge eight

million miles long,

connecting two stars,

one three times more

massive than our Sun,

the other 13

times greater still.

A contact binary star system.

Why aren't they round

like our own star?

They are so closed

to one another,

tidal forces of gravity pull

them together and stretch them

into flaming teardrops.

The Beta Lyrae system is

about 1,000 light-years from earth.

The largest telescopes of the

mid-20th century were just not

powerful enough to resolve

them as individual stars.

You needed that new

power of spectroscopy

to disentangle them.

Kuiper imagined how the

formation of the contact

binary star system

could have happened.

He deduced that they were

formed when a vast cloud of

gas and dust become so dense

that gravitational whirlpools formed.

In thinking about

these contact binaries,

Kuiper couldn't help but

wonder if any of these stellar

courtships ever

failed to catch on fire.

Kuiper asked

himself, was our world,

our Moon and all the planets

of our solar system nothing

more than a failed

binary star system?

And if that's how our

solar system was created,

had the same thing happened around

other stars throughout the cosmos?

Gerard Kuiper had

a special power,

he could see farther

than anyone else.

He was the first to envision

the universe we now live in.

Not a barren vastness

meagerly dotted by childless stars,

but one overflowing

with possible worlds,

countless planets and moons.

In 1949, Kuiper astonished

the world by declaring that

our solar system was

not so special after all,

that every other star had

its own family of worlds.

A world perhaps?

But science wasn't

ready for that universe,

it wasn't even ready to take

its first baby steps off the planet.

Why not?

Science was carved

up into little kingdoms,

the various scientific

disciplines and scientists of

one discipline didn't collaborate

with anyone from another.

But this had to change for

us to venture beyond Earth.

It all came to a head in a

feud between Kuiper and

another great scientist.

Like two stars of a

contact binary system,

they could not disengage.

But despite their

loathing for each other,

they managed to create a

new kind of science and they

pioneered the Space Age,

mentoring its greatest

visionary and voice.

♪♪

♪♪

TYSON: Sometimes, the

cosmos just barges right in

and breaks down

your door, like tonight.

What's going on here?

Our planet is passing through

the epic remnants of a comet,

a debris field

millions of miles long.

That's why it looks like

it's raining stars tonight.

But they're not stars at all,

just bits of rock and ice

burning up in Earth's atmosphere.

It's called a meteor shower.

And this one happens at

the same time every year.

Why?

Because it takes a year

for Earth to orbit the Sun and

return to that same

place where the comets

streaked by so long ago.

That's what a year is.

This could be a piece

of that comet or possibly

a fragment of an asteroid.

It came from another world,

a leftover from the

creation of our solar system.

But how to understand it?

Well, back in

Gerard Kuiper's time,

during the middle

of the 20th century,

it depended on what kind

of a scientist you were.

The geologists would bring

their hammers and break this

sucker apart and look at its

dust under a microscope to

study its crystalline structure.

It was their way of finding

out which missing piece in

this puzzle of Earth the

meteorite could provide.

The chemists were searching

for the same answers,

but they would drop it in

acid to see if it could be

transformed from one

compound into another,

torturing it to see

if it would give up

its secrets about nature.

The physicists would want

to see it at its most naked.

Stripped down to its mass,

its density, its hardness.

Its resistance to heat.

The biologist wouldn't

even stop to pick it up.

Back then, they would've

walked right by it because

they didn't think there was

any chance that a meteorite

from space had

anything to do with them.

Life could only be from

one place, right here, Earth.

And you want to know

the craziest thing?

Back then,

the astronomers would've

walked right by it, too.

Their sights were focused

on the distance and we can't

really blame them.

What was happening

in astronomy back then?

Big ideas about things far

beyond our solar system,

Einstein's theory of relativity,

with its vision of riding a

light beam across the cosmos

and Edwin Hubble's discovery

that the universe was expanding,

that distant galaxies were

flying away from one another.

That's what raised goosebumps,

not looking at a dumb rock

lying in your own backyard.

Studying the planets, moons,

comets and meteors of our own

tiny solar system

seemed like little league.

Until Kuiper dared to

venture into territories

off-limits to astronomy.

Night after night, he

would stay up here

A virtuoso playing the

45-ton instrument like a violin.

Searching the solar

system for clues to its origin.

A mystery that he alone

recognized was insoluble

without the cooperative enterprise

of all the scientific disciplines.

But the scientists didn't

know they needed one another.

There wasn't a single

university department where

scientists of multiple disciplines

could study planetary astronomy.

So here, in the

middle of nowhere,

in a corner of West Texas,

Kuiper conducted his one-man

exploration of the solar system.

He looked at Titan,

one of Saturn's moons,

and discovered that

it had an atmosphere,

it was thick with methane.

A point of light in the sky had

suddenly become a real place.

Kuiper used the spectroscope

to probe the acrid clouds in

the upper atmosphere of Jupiter

to see what they were made of,

their chemical and

atomic structures.

And when he looked

at the red planet, Mars,

he found carbon dioxide in its

atmosphere and he wondered,

"Am I looking at my

planet's future or its past?"

But to some people, Kuiper was

doing nothing more than trespassing.

Butting into chemical

matters where an astronomer

had no business.

Harold Urey was a chemist.

Like Gerard Kuiper,

he also had to fight

his way into science.

Urey's family was

poor like Kuiper's.

So he took a job teaching

grammar school in a

mining camp in Montana.

The parents of one of

his students urged him to

find a way to get to college.

Harold Urey took that

advice all the way to a

Nobel Prize in chemistry.

By 1949, he was riding high,

a distinguished professor

at the University of Chicago.

Then, and now,

one of the world's

great capitals of science.

But when Urey read

his morning paper,

something began

to curdle inside him,

a rising resentment.

First, a pang at a fellow

scientist's heightened celebrity.

Well, that was normal.

Then he got to the part

about the origin of the planets.

He was offended that an

astronomer was making

pronouncements about the

chemical nature of the solar system.

That was his turf.

Scientists are human.

We're primates.

We carry the same evolutionary

baggage as everyone else.

Kuiper and Urey were

two alpha males who chose

scientific argument as

their weapon of combat.

And the two men fought

over a single hostage,

a young student.

When Carl Sagan was a kid,

he lived here, in a small

apartment in Brooklyn.

(ticking)

(street sounds)

In the mid-1940s,

he made this drawing,

filled with predictions,

that is now in the US

Library of Congress.

♪♪

MAN (over PA): 3, 2,

1, 0. All engine running.

Liftoff, we have a liftoff!

TYSON: In an era where life

here was in the last seconds

of its four billion

captivity on Earth,

he dreamed of going to the

planets and even to the stars.

But he didn't want to

just go in his imagination,

he wanted to really go.

He wanted to know what

those worlds were really like.

And he knew that the only way to

do that was to become a scientist.

The boy would come under the

wings of the two warring giants.

As much as they

hated each other,

he loved them both.

Together, the three of them

would tear down the walls

between the scientists.

And the boy would tear

down the tallest wall,

the one between science

and everyone else.

TYSON: Do something for me.

I need you to pretend that

we live in a time before any

spacecraft or human

had ever left Earth,

no one had ever seen

our world from space.

The most extravagant fantasies

of the greatest artists were

no match for what was coming.

This is how one of them imagined

Earth must look from space.

And then, in one

instant on a single day,

everything changed.

This is how Mother Earth

looked when she was naked,

before nearly 5,000 satellites

were in orbit around her,

before anyone had ever

counted backwards from ten.

(counting down

FROM TEN IN RUSSIAN)

(counting down

FROM TEN IN RUSSIAN)

TYSON: On October 4, 1957,

the Soviet Union became

the first nation to dip its

toe into the shallows

of the cosmic ocean.

It launched Sputnik 1,

a simple radio transmitter that

circled Earth every 96 minutes.

All over the planet,

people came outside to find

this new light in the

sky, a man-made moon.

Nothing could stop

us from achieving our

most daring dreams.

Think of it, something we made

was a new light in the night sky.

Something like a star.

As this was happening,

the boy was

becoming a scientist,

and this new knowledge

moved him as nothing before had.

All he could think was that

he wanted to share it with

everyone on Earth,

but that kind of thing was

frowned upon by scientists,

they saw themselves as

being members of an elite club.

In 1950, when Carl Sagan

was just a high school student,

he wrote a paper that earned

him an invitation to work in

the lab of H.J. Muller,

who had won the Nobel Prize

for his discovery that radiation

causes mutations in genes.

By the time Carl got to

the University of Chicago,

he was beginning to

make a name for himself,

and Harold Urey

chose to mentor him.

Urey, the chemist,

was now doing the thing that

he had resented Kuiper for,

trespassing on the turf of

another scientific discipline.

This time it was biology.

Urey and his team wanted

to know how life could have

originated from lifeless matter.

Working with

another student of his,

Stanley Miller, Urey designed

an experiment to simulate the

chemical conditions of the

atmosphere on the early Earth.

They wanted to see whether

those basic chemicals could

have led to amino acids,

the building blocks of life.

Could lightning have provided the

spark that awakened matter into life?

"And if it could

happen here on Earth,

"where else could it have

happened?" Carl wondered.

When he wrote a paper

speculating on that possibility,

Urey responded harshly.

He scolded his apprentice for

venturing beyond his expertise.

But still, Carl loved Urey

because he knew that this

toughness would make

him a better scientist.

In the summer, Carl

traveled to the enemy camp,

to McDonald Observatory,

to observe Mars

with Gerard Kuiper,

the only planetary

astronomer on Earth.

That year, Mars was in a

favorable opposition to Earth.

The two worlds would be the

closest they'd been in 30 years.

But the weather

didn't cooperate,

not in Texas, but on Mars.

A global windblown dust

storm there prevented Kuiper

and Sagan from

seeing anything new.

Instead, they spent those

summer nights talking

of many things.

The older man taught

the young scientist the

most efficient ways to

test his bold new ideas.

They fantasized about what

those possible worlds circling

other stars might be like.

These two fearless scientific

imaginations ventured

throughout the

galaxy all that summer.

The gates to the wonderworld

were swinging open for Carl.

And all of this was

happening as we were reaching

beyond the planet

for the very first time.

(sputnik radio signal)

Soviet Union's Sputnik

scared the hell out of

the United States.

The Cold w*r was a contest

between dueling ideologies

about property and freedom.

When the Russians

got there first,

it seemed to reflect

badly on our world view.

And if they could send an

object into orbit above our heads,

we could no longer

protect our skies.

Suddenly, there was

a new delivery system

for nuclear weapons.

Nowhere on Earth could

be safeguarded against

espionage or attack.

We needed a space

program of our own.

The National Aeronautics

and Space Administration was

founded a year

after Sputnik in 1958.

Science was at last ready

to see Earth as Kuiper

had been seeing it

for years, as a planet.

What a concept.

It may seem obvious to us

now, but in a time of fanatical,

fight to the death nationalism,

it was a thunderbolt.

But Kuiper's feud

with Urey still raged,

even as they both took

leadership roles in the

fledgling space program.

Carl continued ferrying

between their warring labs.

The enmity between the two

men was emotionally so corrosive

that he said at the time he,

"Felt like the child of

divorced parents and he was

the only bridge

left between them."

Urey fought for NASA

to go to the Moon.

Among his reasons was

a desire to know, at last,

how the solar system formed.

Kuiper predicted what it

would be like when we got there.

That when we stepped down on

the lunar surface for the first time,

it would feel like

walking on crunchy snow.

The Moon is a silent world

because it has no atmosphere

to carry sound waves.

But Neil Armstrong later said

that he felt Kuiper's crunchy

snow when he stepped

down onto the surface for the

very first time.

Some of the things the

wanderers left behind.

Thanks to Urey and Kuiper,

Carl Sagan was part

of this great adventure.

He was living his most

extravagant childhood fantasies.

He briefed the Apollo

astronauts before they left

for the Moon.

And he was there when

scientists first met to

evaluate the information

gained from the dawn

of space exploration.

For the first time ever,

the biologist, the geologist,

the astronomers,

the physicists, the

chemists were all talking

to one another.

Actually, mostly shouting.

The young Carl Sagan

stood up at one of their

joint scientific

meetings and said,

"Hey, guys, we're the first generation

of scientists to receive these riches.

We're in this together."

He set a tone for planetary

science that still holds today.

He edited the first modern

interdisciplinary journal for

researchers studying

the world of the cosmos,

Icarus, which

continues to this day.

And he did something else.

He started a lifelong campaign

to bring the revelations of

science to everyone, and

he was one of a handful of

scientists who made the

search for possible worlds,

for extra-terrestrial life and

for intelligence respectable

scientific pursuits.

We've only been hunting for

new worlds for a few decades,

but we've already discovered

many thousands of them.

We think some of them

are hospitable to life and at

least a dozen of

them are earth-like.

What will they be like?

Come with me.

TYSON: Carl Sagan

wanted to liberate a scientific

imagination from the single

example of life that we know,

Earth life.

He envisioned what the

life of another very different

world would be like.

Sagan collaborated with fellow

astrophysicist Ed Salpeter in

the design of plausible

ecological systems for life in

the roiling clouds of Jupiter.

The challenge was to

imagine such life-forms without

violating the laws of

physics, chemistry or biology.

Is life so tenacious that it could even

make a home in this storm of hydrogen,

helium, water,

ammonia and methane?

There's no accessible

solid surface.

It's just this thick cloudy

atmosphere in which organic

molecules are falling

like manna from heaven,

like the products of

Harold Urey and Stanley

Miller's laboratory

experiment on life's origin.

However, this environment

poses a problem for life.

The atmosphere is turbulent

and deep down it's very hot.

An organism must be careful

that it's not carried downward

to the hell below.

One way to make a living

under these conditions is to

reproduce before

you sink and get fried.

Your only hope is that

convection will carry some of

your offspring to the

higher and cooler layers

of the atmosphere.

Such organisms

could be very small.

Sagan and Salpeter

call them "sinkers."

But you could

also be a "floater,"

a vast hydrogen blimp pumping helium

and heavier gases out of your interior and

retaining only the

lightest gas, hydrogen.

Sagan and Salpeter reasoned

that like a hot air balloon

you'd stay buoyant by

keeping your interior warm using

energy acquired

from the foods you eat.

A floater must eat organic

molecules or make its own food

from sunlight and air,

as plants do on Earth.

The bigger a floater is,

the more efficient it will be,

up to a point.

Floaters would be immense,

several kilometers across,

enormously larger than the

greatest whale that ever was,

beings the size of cities.

The floaters may propel

themselves through the

planetary atmosphere

with gusts of gas,

like a ramjet or a rocket.

Sagan and Salpeter imagined

them arranged in great lazy

herds for as far as

the eye could see.

The patterns on their skin

are adaptive camouflage,

implying that they

have problems, too,

because there's at least one other

ecological niche in such an environment

Hunters.

Hunters are fast, maneuverable.

Hunters eat the floaters,

both for their organic

molecules and for their

store of pure hydrogen.

There cannot be very many hunters

because if they consume all the floaters,

the hunters

themselves will parish.

When scientists of the

21st century tested Sagan's

imaginary life-forms

against what they knew of life,

they realized that the

concept of a habitable zone

had to be expanded.

It moved into the cloud

tops of gas giants and

the subsurface

oceans of ice worlds,

and places we've yet to imagine.

Of all those worlds,

of all those stars,

one must have been first.

Come with me to the

oldest world we know.

TYSON: We're in

a globular cluster,

a densely packed ball of

a million stars, called M4,

on the outskirts of

the Milky Way galaxy.

When pulsars, rapidly

rotating neutron stars,

were first discovered,

scientists wondered if they

were a sign of intelligent

life because of the regularity

of their radio signals.

Once upon a time, this

star was a blue supergiant,

but after a few million

years, it ran out of fuel,

went supernova, then collapsed

into this ball of neutrons,

no larger than a small town.

It's nearby companion,

a white dwarf star,

another burnt-out

stellar corpse,

orbits only a few

million miles away.

That's not why we've come here.

We've come in search of the

oldest known planet in the cosmos.

The cosmos was

young when this star,

a white dwarf, was born,

12.7 billion years ago.

The star was single then,

long before it was captured

by the pulsar that

gave birth to a world.

That world is out

here somewhere,

taking 100 Earth years to

orbit these two shrunken stars.

The fact that it exists bodes

well for those who dream of

virtually infinite

possible worlds.

If it formed less than a billion

years after the cosmos itself,

then stars started

fostering planets soon after

the beginning of time.

Nurturing worlds

is what stars do.

And what will the fate of

this oldest of planets be?

Sorry to say, it's a lonely one.

Sometime in the

next billion years,

the two stars will be

gravitationally ambushed by a third.

A red dwarf star will come

barreling into their vicinity.

It's gravity will send this

ancient world careening out of

its system and into the

lonely dark between the stars.

A rogue planet doomed to

wander a never-ending oblivion.

But there are also homes

away from home that call to us,

illuminated in warmth

not by one star,

but three.

I want to take

you to Gliese 667,

a triple-star system

with six worlds,

three of them enough like earth to

hold the promise of life as we know it.

Stars A and B are both a

little smaller than our Sun.

This pair of orange

dwarfs orbit each other.

Star C orbits them

both, it's a red dwarf.

They're the most common

kind of star in the galaxy.

As many as 80% of all

the stars in the cosmos may

be red dwarfs.

They consume their

hydrogen fuel slowly,

so they last longer.

More massive

stars, like blue giants,

maintain such high pressures

that they burn out quickly.

This outermost world of

the Gliese 667 system is

four times the size of

earth, but it's too far from

its stars to have liquid

water on its surface.

That doesn't mean it's lifeless.

We don't yet know enough

about life to say what

might be going on

beneath its frozen shell.

We haven't yet reached

the habitable zone of

this star system.

Getting closer,

but not there yet,

this even larger

world is impressive,

but still just outside that

region considered to be

hospitable to life and to the

human scientific imagination.

Now, this is more like it.

The kind of atmosphere

that promises life is here.

♪♪

♪♪

(animal call)

(waves and wind)

(distant animal calls)

(waves and wind)

This isn't the stuff

of distant worlds,

this little guy is

one of our own.

All the other life-forms we've just

seen were actually homegrown,

right here on Earth.

We haven't even begun

to get to know all the

living things on

this tiny world.

Think of all the possibilities,

the different kinds of

life there must have been,

and are, and will

be in the cosmos.

Thanks to Gerard Kuiper,

Harold Urey and so

many other scientists,

we now know that it takes just a

few million years for stars to evolve,

and planets and moons to

coalesce out of gas and dust.

In other words, a solar system.

It's a long period of gestation,

but far from rare.

In our own galaxy, it happens

about once every month.

In the observable universe,

which we now think

contains as many as

a trillion galaxies,

containing some

200 million trillion stars,

a cosmos of 200

million trillion stars,

1,000 solar systems may be

forming every single second.

That's 1,000 new solar

systems right there.

1,000 new solar systems.

1,000 new solar systems.

1,000 new solar systems.

1,000 new solar systems.

1,000 new solar systems.

1,000 new solar systems.

(finger snap)

(finger snap)