Tag Archives: consciousness

The Black Hole Glow: A Journey into Hawking Radiation

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Howdy my loyal readers. I’d like to start my saying thank you for the messages I’ve received asking if there is anything else they should know about black holes, and as they are a common theme through most of my articles, I’m going to indulge you with this one, on how Stephen Hawking discovered that the darkest objects in the universe may slowly evaporate away

By any reasonable definition, black holes should be simple. They pull things in. Nothing gets out. End of story. Yet in 1974, Stephen Hawking discovered something astonishing, and that was, black holes are not completely black. Given enough time, they glow, lose mass, shrink, and may eventually disappear altogether. That prediction is now known as Hawking radiation and remains one of the most profound (you’ve heard my ear worm already) insights in the history of physics.

This was a problem nobody expected, although I’m pretty sure Stephen Hawking had an inkling. You see, Black holes emerge naturally from Einstein’s theory of General Relativity. According to the classical picture, they are regions of space where gravity becomes so powerful that nothing, not even light, can escape once it crosses the event horizon. I know, I know, this is old news to you guys, I’ve stated it several times in previous articles.

For decades, physicists assumed black holes could only grow. Matter falls in. Energy falls in. Nothing comes out. Yeah? Then along came Stephen Hawking, and he combined Einstein’s gravity with quantum mechanics and arrived at an answer nobody could have anticipated. Black holes should emit a faint thermal glow. And this implication was extraordinary. Simply put, it meant that Black Holes could die.

As humoungously massive as it is, the Universe is never truly empty, and to understand Hawking radiation, we need to start with a strange feature of quantum mechanics, and that is what appears to be empty space isn’t actually empty.

According to quantum field theory, the vacuum of space is filled with fluctuating quantum fields. That is, teeny tiny disturbances constantly occur throughout space, causing particle-like excitations to briefly appear and disappear. Something that physicists call vacuum fluctuations.

OK. This bizarre activity actually happens everywhere in the universe, and this includes some of the most extreme environments surrounding a black hole.

And this takes us to the famous story that everyone learns. And that is, the most common explanation of Hawking radiation goes something like this:

Near the event horizon, a particle and antiparticle appear as a pair. Now then, normally they would immediately annihilate each other, but if the pair forms close enough to the event horizon, gravity can separate them before they reunite. Which means, one particle escapes into space, while the other one falls back into the black hole. To a distant observer, the escaping particle looks like radiation emitted by the black hole itself.

And this is because, the particle that falls inward, effectively carries negative energy relative to faraway observers, thus reducing the black hole’s mass, so over immense stretches of time the black hole slowly evaporates.

It is an absolutely, beautiful explanation.

But, and there’s always a but, you know this by know, surely guys, there’s one problem.

This isn’t really how Hawking derived the result.

To look at the deeper truth, among physicists, this particle-pair story is considered a useful mental picture, but is not the actual mathematics (maths again, I know. Regular readers already know my issue with maths). Anyway, Hawking’s original calculation used quantum field theory in curved spacetime. And that is, the essential idea is subtle. Different observers can disagree about what counts as empty space. A vacuum for one observer may appear to contain particles to another observer. But, near a black hole’s event horizon, spacetime is distorted so severely that these differing perspectives become physically important

When Hawking compared the state of quantum fields before and after a black hole forms, he discovered that an observer far away would detect radiation emerging from the black hole. So, in other words, Hawking radiation is less about particles popping out of nowhere, and more about the deep relationship between quantum fields, spacetime, and observation itself.

One of Hawking’s greatest discoveries was that black holes possess temperature, and the temperature of a black hole is inversely proportional to its mass, so the heavier the black hole, the colder it becomes, and this leads to a surprising consequence.

A supermassive black hole containing millions or billions of solar masses is incredibly cold, and a tiny black hole is extraordinarily hot, and this relationship means, small black holes radiate far more efficiently than large ones.

Because Hawking radiation carries energy away, the black hole loses mass, and this results in the slow death of a black hole.

As it shrinks, something curious happens. The black hole gets smaller as its temperature rises, then radiation increases which causes the mass to decrease even faster, and therefore the process accelerates.

If the theory is correct, then the final phase could end up with an enormous burst of energy, however, what exactly happens during those final moments remains unknown.

If you got the time to watch one, don’t expect to watch one evaporate as the evaporation process is incredibly slow. A black hole with roughly the mass of our Sun would survive for approximately 10⁶⁷ years, and this is one hell of a lot of zeros, and an incredibly long time. Trillions upon trillions upon trillions of times longer than the current age of the universe. Told you it was a long time.

And what’s more, supermassive black holes live even longer! Fortunately for the universe, black hole death is not an urgent problem, and nothing to worry about. Not for a verrrrrry longtime, at least!

Before Hawking’s discovery, physicist Jacob Bekenstein, argued that black holes should possess entropy, a measure of information content (remember my last article? You did read it, didn’t you?), and Hawking’s calculations confirmed this. In fact, black holes possess staggering amounts of entropy. Even more surprisingly, that entropy scales with the surface area of the event horizon rather than the black hole’s volume!

This observation helped inspire one of the deepest concepts in modern theoretical physics, and that is the Holographic Principle (you know this, I mentioned it way back in my original Black Hole article). This principle suggests that information contained within a region of space may be fully encoded on its boundary surface. It may sound like science fiction, but it has become one of the central ideas in attempts to understand quantum gravity

There’s a problem though, and that is the Information Paradox, and that is the question that changed theoretical physics forever.

Let us suppose a black hole swallows, my laptop I’m writing this article on, books, planets, stars, people, and entire civilizations and the specific details seem to vanish behind the event horizon.

If the black hole later evaporates and only thermal Hawking radiation remains, where did the information go? And that, is what has become known as the Black Hole Information Paradox.

The paradox appears to pit two fundamental pillars of physics against one another. Again, you know this, I’ve mentioned it before. It pits General Relativity against Quantum Mechanics. And this is because quantum theory normally forbids information destruction. What’s surprising is, Hawking’s original result seemed to imply exactly that.  And that is why many physicists consider this one of the deepest unresolved problems in science.

Modern research increasingly views Hawking radiation as an entanglement phenomenon. The radiation escaping from a black hole appears linked to degrees of freedom hidden behind the event horizon, and these quantum correlations may play a crucial role in preserving information.

This current line of thinking has driven decades of research involving Quantum information theory, string theory, holography (my old, now dead, dad was a big fan of holography), and quantum gravity, as well as many other areas.

Moving on, there is another remarkable discovery that Hawking radiation appears closely related to the Unruh Effect.

The what, I hear you say? Another topic for later? Sorry, yes (picture me doing an emoji grimace in apology as I type this), the Unruh Effect predicts that an accelerating observer can perceive empty space as containing thermal radiation. And that is what one observer sees as a vacuum, another observer sees as heat. Many physicists suspect both effects arise from the same underlying physics linking horizons, acceleration, and quantum fields.

Which brings us to the puzzles of tine scales. And that is, there is another challenge lurking inside Hawking’s theory.

When researchers trace Hawking radiation backward in time, some calculations appear to involve wavelengths smaller than the Planck scale (you know what that is), where known physics may stop working completely, and this issue is called the Trans-Planckian Problem. Which suggests we may need a deeper theory of nature to fully understand what is happening near the event horizon of a black hole.

Ah, who was that at the back, another question do I hear? Have we ever seen Hawking Radiation?

Surprisingly, the answer is…

No. We haven’t.

Despite being one of the most famous predictions in science, Hawking radiation has never been directly observed from a real astronomical black hole, and that is because the effect is simply too faint. Remember how long it would take to observe it? That is how faint it is. Even paint dries at the speed of light in comparison. (It doesn’t, bit that sounded cool, didn’t it!).

However, researchers have built laboratory systems that mimic the behaviour of event horizons using optical fibre, fluid systems, and Bose-Einstein condensates, and these analogue systems have produced Hawking-like radiation and, yes there’s another and, in recent experiments, even evidence of the associated back-reaction effects predicted by theory! Cool huh?

While these are not actual black holes, they do provide valuable support for the underlying physics, which leaves us with the final mystery.

And that is perhaps that the most important thing about Hawking radiation is not the radiation itself. There is a deeper lesson, that black holes sit at the intersection of humanity’s three greatest theories, General Relativity. Quantum Field Theory, and Thermodynamics. Unfortunately, those theories do not fit together perfectly, but Hawking radiation exposes the cracks.

Hawking radiation tells us that spacetime has temperature, that gravity may be linked to information, and that entropy and geometry are somehow connected. Oh, and that our deepest theories are still incomplete.

More than fifty years after Hawking’s discovery, physicists are still trying to understand what the phenomenon is really telling us.

The black hole’s faint glow may ultimately reveal not just how black holes die, but how reality itself is built! I’ve said this before at the end of my articles, and I’m going to say it again. How amazingly awesome is that!!

Bell’s Inequalities: Spooky Action’s Reckoning

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Way, way back in 1935, Albert Einstein looked at the emerging theory of quantum mechanics and although he said a lot of things about it at the time, and a lot of things after that too, what it really boils down to is this. As I’ve mentioned in previous articles, Einstein had a teeny-tiny (did you see what I did there?) problem with quantum mechanics. To summarise, what he was basically declaring was…

“This cannot be the whole story.”

By the mid 1930’s quantum mechanics had already become hugely and enormously successful (LOL I did it again, didn’t I!). It correctly described atoms, light, and the microscopic world. Einstein, however, being Einstein, believed wholeheartedly that it contained a profound flaw. He couldn’t accept that physical properties might not exist until they had been measured.

As far as Einstein was concerned, the Moon was still there even when nobody looked at it. Which to him meant, a particle should possess a definite state before anyone measures it. If quantum mechanics suggested otherwise, then perhaps some deeper set of hidden facts and hidden variables remained awaiting discovery.

This argument seemed destined to remain philosophical for nearly thirty years, before a quiet physicist from Northern Ireland by the name of John Bell came along.

What Bell did was ask an astonishingly simple question. He didn’t ask whether Einstein or Bohr (brilliant Danish dude, one of many things he is most famous for is developing the Bohr model of the atom) were right. He asked a much more powerful question:

If Einstein’s intuition is correct, what measurable consequences would follow?

At the time this was revolutionary. In an instant, Bell had transformed a debate about the nature of reality into a scientific hypothesis that could be tested in a laboratory.

The result of which he published in 1964, which became universally known as Bell’s Theorem.

I hear one of those questions nagging at you again. You want to know what Bell’s Theorem is, don’t you?

Well, at its heart lies a family of mathematical relationships called Bell’s Inequalities.

Let’s assume for a moment, that the Universe trots along, as it does, according to good old-fashioned common-sense.

Let’s catch up with Bob and Betty again. Imagine that two particles, born together, have then been hurled in opposite directions.

One travels to Betty and the other one travels to Bob, so now two experiments are so far apart that even a light signal cannot travel between them quickly enough to coordinate their measurements.

Now you have to ask yourself, if that’s the case, how could the particles remain correlated?

And that is when the common-sense answer comes in and seems the most obvious. They must have left the source carrying matching instructions.

Like two naughty boys, who have already agreed on their response before getting told off severely for doing something stupid (middle school, my best mate Duncan and the green houses in the garden behind the Spar next door spring to mind, but that is 100% a different story and not for now). What if the particles already know how to respond to every possible measurement?

This view, however, rests on two assumptions:

Number one: Realism. That is the properties of the particles exist before measurement, and Number two: Locality. Nothing can influence something far away faster than light.

Put them together and these two ideas form what physicists call local realism (original, huh?).

Now then, to most people, like you and old me before I learnt all this stuff, local realism sounds less like a theory and more like plain old-fashioned common-sense.

And that was Bell’s perfectly set trap!

He wondered whether pre-arranged instructions could explain every possible pattern observed in entangled particles, and he imagined particles carrying complete answer sheets.

Here’s the clever bit though: Betty and Bob don’t just get asked one question each, they can each be asked one of two different questions. So each answer sheet needs a pre-written response ready for both, not just whichever one actually gets asked.

So, if Betty chooses measurement A, the particle will give a predetermined result.

And if Bob chooses measurement B, his particle will also give a predetermined result.

What’s so unreasonable about that? Sounds very reasonable to me. I hear you say.

The thing is, Bell had discovered something quite remarkable.

He discovered that no matter how cleverly those answer sheets are designed, they can only produce correlations up to a certain mathematical limit. And that limit, folks, is a Bell Inequality!

The most famous version of which is the CHSH inequality, which predicts that a quantity called S cannot exceed 2 if local realism is true.

Nature, however, had other plans. That’s right, you’ve hit the nail firmly on the head. It’s those pesky quantum mechanics breaking the rules again, isn’t it!

And you’re right! Quantum theory predicts that entangled particles can produce correlations stronger than Bell’s limit. Not infinitely stronger. Just strong enough. Instead of stopping at 2, quantum mechanics allows values as high as:

or approximately 2.828. This maximum quantum value is called the Tsirelson bound (you’ll have to take my word on this as it’s way to complicated for me to explain simply), and to Bell, this meant something extraordinary. (If you really wanna know about Tsirelson’s bound, have a look at Wikipedia here).

If experiments ever exceeded the classical limit of 2, then no theory based on local hidden variables could fully describe reality. That was when the argument ceased to be philosophical, as reality itself would have to choose a side.

And so the experiments began. In the 1970s, physicists John Clauser and Stuart Freedman conducted the first significant tests. The results of which agreed with quantum mechanics. Although a 1973 Harvard experiment by Francis Pipkin and Richard Holt initially produced opposite results before later experiments, such as Fry and Thompson in 1976, strongly violated Bell’s Inequalities, aligning perfectly with quantum mechanics.

There were still many sceptics who remained unconvinced though.

“Perhaps the experiments contained flaws!” they shouted

“Perhaps the particles somehow communicated!” they screamed

“Perhaps the detectors introduced biases?” the shyer ones whispered to each other.

Then, in the early 1980s, a French physicist called Alain Aspect and his collaborators performed more sophisticated experiments in which detector settings changed while the particles were already in flight. And, you’ve guessed it, once again, Bell inequalities were violated. And this time the evidence was growing harder to dismiss.

For decades, physicists searched for loopholes, but every escape route was closed.

Maybe detector inefficiencies could explain the results? Nope!

Or it could be experimental effects mimicking quantum correlations? Nope!

Ah, could the measurement choices somehow be known in advance? Nope!

Researchers attacked each loophole one by one, and every time the loopholes were firmly closed.

More recently in 2015, multiple groups began reporting “loophole-free” Bell tests. However, these experiments simultaneously addressed the major known objections and still found violations of Bell Inequalities exactly where quantum mechanics predicted them. The verdict was becoming increasingly unavoidable with everything they tried. Simply put, Nature does not obey local realism.

So, what did Bell actually prove?

We often hear popular science accounts say that “Particles communicate faster than light.”

Bell did not prove that. Nor did he prove that information travels instantaneously. Nor did he show that relativity is wrong. What he proved was way, way subtler.

Basically, Bell was saying that the world cannot be explained by a picture in which distant objects merely carry pre-existing local instructions, and that something about our classical understanding of reality must give way.

And so, the great mystery remains.

The awkward truth of the matter is that physicists still disagree about exactly what Bell’s theorem means, with some interpretations abandoning realism, and others abandoning locality.

Other physicists have attempted to rethink the measurement altogether.

But all serious interpretations must confront Bell’s result.  The experimental facts may no longer be in doubt, but the philosophical meaning remains fiercely debated.

And that leads us to why Bell matters. While many scientific discoveries tell us how the universe behaves, Bell’s theorem is fundamentally different. It tells us how the universe cannot behave.

It places a permanent limit on any explanation that can be built from everyday intuitions about objects carrying definite properties which are interacting only through local causes.

For centuries, philosophers wondered whether reality existed independently of observation. Bell found a way to ask the question experimentally.

The answer appears to be that the microscopic world is stranger than even Einstein imagined. And perhaps the most astonishing part of all is that a debate that began around blackboards and thought experiments ended with photons, detectors, laboratory equipment, and reality itself casting the deciding vote.

Hopefully, with my explanation of Bell’s Inequalities, my previous two articles will make a bit more sense now.

It’s mind-bogglingly amazing that with all the mind-bogglingly stuff all the clever physicists and quantum dudes have learned and discovered and now understand, that we have been going around in circles with this one for nearly a century. And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons I love physics!

The Speed of Light: The Universe’s Ultimate Limit

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Due to another recent sleepless night thanks to my mind working in overdrive, I found myself contemplating the speed of light, and the more I contemplated it, the more it wouldn’t let me go back to sleep, and the stranger it seemed.

It’s one of those things you hear about your whole life. School, documentaries, random science articles, the closing song to Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, so much so you sort of take it for granted. Light goes very fast. End of story, right?

Er, no. The more I started thinking about it, the more I realised it’s not just about how fast light travels.

It’s something much deeper than that.

So, what actually is the speed of light?

At its most basic level, it’s just a number, but not just any number. It is a number that quietly governs everything in the universe, how fast signals travel, how time flows, how gravity behaves, and even how reality itself is stitched together.

That number is the speed of light, usually written as c.

It’s not just the speed at which sunlight reaches your face or lasers shoot across a room. It goes far deeper than that. It is, in many ways, the fundamental rhythm of reality.

The speed of light in a vacuum is: c = 299,792,458 metres per second.

That’s about 300,000 kilometres per second, or if you prefer it in imperial, 186,000 miles per second, fast enough to go around the Earth more than seven times in a single second.

But here’s the interesting part: this number isn’t just measured, it’s defined. Since 1983, the metre itself has been based on how far light travels in a fraction of a second.

So, in a strange way, we’re not just measuring light, we’re using it to define reality.

Another thing that’s easy to miss is that c isn’t really about light on its own. It’s the speed of all electromagnetic radiation, from radio waves to gamma rays, and even appears in the laws governing phenomena like gravitational waves.

Nothing in the universe can go faster than light. Not matter, not energy, and not information. That’s what gives the universe its speed limit. Why? I hear you ask. And the answer, my friends, is because anything with mass accelerating toward c will require more and more energy. To actually reach it would require infinite energy, which is impossible.

The speed of light is therefore not just fast, it is absolute.

This is where Einstein comes in. Back in 1905 he made a radical leap. He proposed that the speed of light is the same for all observers, no matter how fast they themselves are moving.

That seemingly simple idea shattered classical physics to smithereens (I might be being a bit over dramatic there) and led to the theory of special relativity, and with it came strange and beautiful consequences: time slows down for objects moving near light speed, and length shrinks in the direction of motion. Mass and energy turned out to be two sides of the same coin too, which gives us the most famous equation of all:

In that one brilliant moment, the speed of light became more than just a velocity. It became a statement about how we see the universe itself: because light travels at a fixed speed, we never see the universe as it is, only as it was.

So, if you look at the Sun you are seeing it from 8 minutes in the past, the moon is from 1.3 seconds ago, any nearby stars you gaze at are years ago, and if you were to look at distant galaxies, they are from millions or billions of years ago. Amazing, isn’t it? Every time you look into the night sky, you are literally looking into history.

Let’s take a closer look at light, fields, and the deep structure of physics.

In the 19th century, James Clerk Maxwell showed us that light is actually an electromagnetic wave, and its speed comes from the properties of empty space itself, which in itself is a bit mind bending!

Then, in modern quantum physics, we go a step further. Reality, as far as we can tell, is made of fields. Particles are just ripples in those fields, and the speed of light is the maximum speed those ripples can travel. In this view, c is not just about light, it is the speed of all cause-and-effect in the universe.

And this ties into black holes as well (as I was rambling about in my last post). If you make gravity strong enough, you eventually reach a point where the escape velocity equals the speed of light and that’s the event horizon. Beyond that, nothing gets out, not because something is pulling it back in like a cosmic vacuum cleaner, but because spacetime itself is warped in such a way that every possible path leads inward.

What’s that? Another question I hear? Can we go faster than light? No, we can’t, not with the laws of physics as we understand them now. Modern physics is very strict on this; nothing can move through space faster than light.

But the universe does have a trick up its sleeve. Space itself can expand faster than light. Distant galaxies are being carried away faster than light so that some are forever beyond our reach. Crucially, this doesn’t break relativity, because nothing is actually moving through space faster than light, space itself is stretching.

Which leads us to another question: if we could travel faster than light, why would doing so break reality?

And the answer to that question is this: if faster-than-light communication were possible, something extraordinary, and dangerous, would happen. Cause and effect could reverse, which in some reference frames means a message would arrive before it was sent, creating a paradox where an effect precedes its cause.

And this is why physicists think of c not as the speed of light, but as the speed of causality.

Still with me? Good, I’m going to get a bit more technical here and bung in an equation, I try to avoid equations as much as possible as they can be baffling to understand (apart from the one above, obviously), it’s only as I have got older and more learned (hark at me!!) that I am better able to get my head around them.

Anyway, the speed of light also appears in one of physics’ most mysterious numbers, The fine-structure constant:

It basically shows us how strongly electromagnetism works, and it depends on the speed of light, along with quantum mechanics and electric charge and other quantumy stuff. Anyway, together these constants define how atoms hold together, how chemistry works, and ultimately how anything exists at all, but that is for another blog post, so you’ll just have to take my word for it for now.

All this brings us to the one final mystery which nobody really has an answer to. Why this number? Why does the speed of light have this exact value? We know how to measure it. We can use it. We know it shapes spacetime itself. But why that value?

At the deepest level, where quantum mechanics meets gravity, we still don’t know. Remember, I’m just an amateur here and I definitely have no idea. However, some theories suggest spacetime may emerge from something deeper, and that c might emerge with it.

Putting all this into perspective (and adding some cool bullet points), the speed of light is:

  • The maximum speed of information
  • The structure of spacetime
  • The limit of cause and effect
  • A link between energy, mass, space, and time

It is not just a property of light. It is a property of reality itself. How’s that for a statement?

But wait, it gets even better as perhaps the strangest thing of all is that every single moment, everything in the universe is obeying that limit.

Whether we notice it or not, the future is only ever unfolding as fast as light allows.

Black Holes: What the Hell are they Really?

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As is often the case, I’ve had a lot of things on my mind recently, mainly work stuff as there’s been a lot of uncertainty around mine, and my mate Chris who I work with, roles. All sorted now, well, sort of, I’ll tell you about it another time, if you’re lucky.

Anyway, when things start to overwhelm me, I tend to start ruminating on random stuff I know, or have learnt, that has stuck with me. Today, for no particular reason, other than I’ve been getting quite sciency recently, it has been black holes, and as I seem to have my writing mojo back, I thought to myself, why not put these thoughts to paper and bang out an article for my blog. I know I only have a handful of readers (friends and family who humour me by showing an interest), but I find it quite therapeutic. 

So, Black Holes, what the hell are they really? They’re one of those things that you hear about your whole life, mostly in passing, science programmes, random articles, the odd bit on the news, songs by Muse etc., and you sort of think you know what they are as in they’re a big gravity thing and nothing escapes from them, right?

That’s all very true, but the more I started properly looking into them, the more I realised that I didn’t really understand them at all. Or maybe a better way of putting it is, I understood the idea of them, but not what they actually are. And that’s where things start to get a bit weird.

So, what actually is a black hole?

At the most basic level, a black hole is just a place in space where gravity has become so strong that nothing can escape it. Not even light, just as I said above, but that alone is already slightly weird, because light, as we all know, is the fastest thing there is. If light can’t escape, then whatever’s going on there must be pretty extreme.

The reason this happens is actually quite simple in principle. If you take a massive object, like a star, and compress all that mass into a ridiculously small space that it fits within a critical radius, the gravitational pull increases. Keep compressing it, and eventually you reach a point where the escape velocity (the speed you’d need to get away from it) is higher than the speed of light, and at that point, you’ve got yourself a black hole.

Simple enough, in theory.

But it’s not really gravity in the way we think, and this is where it starts to shift a bit as black holes aren’t just strong gravity in the usual sense, they’re more like a distortion in spacetime itself. And although that sounds like one of those throwaway science phrases, it’s actually the key to everything.

As Einstein pointed out in his theory of relativity, space and time aren’t actually separate things, they’re part of the same fabric. Spacetime. And massive objects bend that fabric. That is they bend spacetime. The Earth bends it a bit, the Sun bends it a lot more, and a black hole basically folds it in on itself like someone’s tried to fold up a fitted sheet and given up halfway through (to this day, and despite my wife showing me numerous times, I still can’t fold a fitted sheet).

So, what is the event horizon, this so called point of no return? I hear you say

Well, the event horizon isn’t a physical surface. You won’t bump into it like a wall. It’s just a boundary in space, once you cross it, there is literally no path back out. Not because something is blocking you, but because all possible directions you could move through spacetime point further inward, cones of light tilt inward so that all future paths lead deeper in. It quite literally is the point of no return.

And what’s really strange is what it looks like from the outside. If you were watching someone fall into a black hole, they’d appear to slow down as they got closer to the event horizon, they would become slower and slower, until to the eyes of the observer, they appear to freeze there before slowly fading away, so you never actually see them going all the way in, but from their point of view, they just fall straight through.

That disconnect between what’s actually happening and what you see is where things start to feel a bit off and one of those questions that always seems to come up is, what happens if I were to fall in to one? and the honest answer is:

It depends.

I know that answer is a bit of a cop out, but if it’s a smaller black hole, you’re in a lot of trouble very quickly. The difference in gravitational pull between your feet and your head becomes so extreme that you get stretched out into a thin strand. This is what people in physics circles call spaghettification, which sounds almost funny until you think about it.

For a really massive black hole though, like the one at the centre of our galaxy (and the one in the song by Muse), it’s a bit less dramatic at first. You could actually cross the event horizon without noticing anything particularly unusual in that moment. It’s only later, the deeper in you go, that it becomes unavoidable and you’re on a one way trip.

Either way, you’re not coming back.

At the centre of a black hole is something called the singularity. In theory, this is a point where all the mass is crushed down into an infinitely small space, with infinite density, but here’s the thing, infinite in physics usually means we don’t actually know what’s going on. Physics dudes don’t like anything to be infinite as it mucks up all the other stuff we know about the universe. It’s basically our equations throwing their hands up and saying, this doesn’t make sense anymore.

So, the singularity might not actually exist in that exact form. It’s more likely that something else is happening there, something we just don’t yet have the tools or the physics to describe properly, and that’s where black holes start to become really cool.

For one thing, they’re not actually completely black, which surprised me the most when I first came across it, and black holes can actually lose energy.

There’s this process called Hawking radiation (yes, that cool dude who wrote that brilliant book, if you haven’t read it, you should), where tiny quantum effects near the edge of a black hole allow particles to escape. It’s often explained in terms of virtual particle pairs forming near the event horizon, with one falling in and the other escaping. It’s incredibly weak, but over very, very long periods of time, it means the black hole slowly shrinks and would eventually disappear entirely. Which is a strange idea in itself, something that swallows everything, but can also slowly evaporate.

Still with me? Good, as now we get to the bit we really don’t understand and where it all ties together.

Black holes are basically where two major parts of physics collide:

General relativity (which describes gravity and large-scale things) and Quantum mechanics (which describes teeny tiny things).

Both of these work extremely well on their own, but inside a black hole they don’t agree, which leads to some big problems, one of the biggest being, what happens to information?

If something falls into a black hole, all the information about it should still exist in some form as physics says information can’t just be destroyed, but black holes seem to do exactly that, either the information isn’t actually lost (and we don’t understand how it’s preserved), or our understanding of physics is incomplete. And if we’re being honest, it’s probably the latter, there’s something missing from our understanding of physics.

The part I keep coming back to is, as all this stuffs wanders through my noggin, is why does any of this matter? And it matters because black holes aren’t just weird objects sitting out there doing their own thing. They actually seem to play a huge role in how the universe works.

Most galaxies have a supermassive black hole at their centre which influences how stars form, how galaxies evolve, and possibly even how structure forms on a cosmic scale, but more than that, they’re one of the few places where we can really test the limits of our theories. They’re not just interesting in their own right, they actually do something, we just haven’t figured out exactly what that is yet.

In the end, I don’t think black holes are really about “things that suck stuff in,” even though that’s how they’re often described. They’re more like boundaries. Points where our current understanding of reality runs out and something deeper takes over. And the more you look into them, the more you start to feel like we’re still only scratching the surface.

Which, if nothing else, makes them worth thinking about properly.